Author's note: Huge thanks to Lis, Dawn and Mabel for being the best betas in the world! And thank you readers so much for your amazing reviews, it's what makes writing this worthwhile!!! :)




Lovely banner by Vette! :)


Chapter 18


Buffy padded down the stairs, eyes still bleary from sleep and hair mussed from where Spike’s fingers had ran through it. She’d woken to find him absent. For a moment the feeling of loneliness, the lack of his presence overwhelmed her, reminding her of a time long gone when she was a little girl who couldn’t find her parents in the middle of the street. Alone amongst the infinite sea of a faceless crowd.


A sliver of light sneaked in through the gap between the curtains, flickering across the side of Buffy’s face as she walked through the living room filled with what the latest in home entertainment systems. She bypassed a comfy looking red couch and strode across a beige plush carpet as she circled the room.


A grunt came from somewhere below, followed by a thud and a curse. Buffy followed the muffled noise and spotted the ajar door, luring her to push it open and peer in. A long flight of stairs led down to a basement. A single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, the only source of light. Bleached hair and a naked upper torso drew her attention, and Buffy sneaked in, careful of disturbing him.


Spike was currently engaged in a furious fight with a punching bag, concentrating so hard he didn’t see her come in. Buffy sat on the top of stairs and gazed at him. The muscles of his bare back were rippling under his skin as he pounded the bag, muttered curses and took short, shuddering breaths.


A powerful roundhouse kick and the punching bag flew off its hinges, rolling harmlessly on the floor and away from Spike after he kicked it again for good measure.


“I think it’s pretty much dead,” Buffy said.


Spike almost jumped out of his skin and turned to face her.


“Buffy. Didn’t realize you were here. You should have said something.” He smiled awkwardly and rubbed at the nape of his neck.


“I didn’t want to interrupt you. You seemed quite engaged in the fight with the evil punching bag.”


She also enjoyed watching him in his element, graceful even when angry and frustrated. But that was something she’d keep to herself.


“Are you teasing me?” Spike lifted his eyebrow and walked up the stairs to sit next to her.


“Maybe.” Buffy glanced over at him and her hand automatically reached out to brush a stray lock of hair that had tumbled to his forehead during his workout. Spike closed his eyes and covered her hand with his, sparks of longing zapping along his nerves when their skin made contact. Then she turned her palm and intertwined her fingers with his.


Spike relished the feeling of simple physical connection as her hands warmed his skin. He never realized that something as fundamental as this could feel so good. Whatever she was willing to give, he’d take it.


“This is nice,” Buffy said as she glanced around the basement, taking in the workout equipment that reminded her of the training sessions she’d had with Merrick.


“Mmhmm,” Spike mumbled as he leaned into her and nuzzled her neck.


“The basement,” Buffy elaborated when she noticed with some amusement that the furnishings were the last thing on his mind.


He squinted up and said, “Oh. You weren’t talking about-” He gently squeezed her fingers. “this being nice.”


“I thought that went without saying.” Buffy blushed under Spike’s now burning gaze, the pleasant moment blending into something else. Something scary and exquisite. The air around them thickened with unspoken emotions when he went back to her throat and pressed his lips to her skin in a feather like kiss. Spike kissed her again, gauging Buffy’s reaction when he sneaked out his tongue and dragged it upwards, teasing the area behind her ear, nibbling then sucking her earlobe into his mouth when she tilted her head to the side to give him access.


Her grip on his fingers tightened.


“You can always come here. We could… spar.” Spike brought up the subject he’d thought about many times during her coma. He wanted her to get that piece of herself back, the knowledge she didn’t have to be helpless, that she could be the Slayer, able to protect herself. He needed to wake up that dormant part in her, to give her something back. Most important of all, he had to touch her.


“I’m not sure… I can,” Buffy said in a breathy voice when Spike sucked at the spot beneath her jaw.


“You can,” he murmured into her neck, between the gentle sucks. “Whenever you want. I’m here.” His free hand threaded through her hair. The blood under her skin rushed and pulsed beneath his lips, calling to him like a Siren’s song. “God, Buffy. You taste so good.”


Spike’s hand fell from her hair to her knee, the desperate need to touch her overwhelming his judgment as he dragged it further up her thigh.


“Spike… don’t,” Buffy whispered shakily, the avidity for his touch warring with the images of her prison time rushing through her mind. “N-no.”


Buffy’s fingers tightened painfully on his, almost to the point of breaking his bones and Spike snapped out of the haze, finally noting Buffy’s words, the paleness of her cheeks, and her shallow breathing that was no longer from enjoying his touch. Letting go of her as he jumped away, Spike cursed himself for being such a wanker, horrified that he made her feel that way after he’d told her he didn’t expect anything for her. Why couldn’t he stop pushing?


“God, I didn’t mean-” he said.


“Spike-” Her eyes glassy with unshed tears, Spike mistook her reaction for one of fear, fear of him.


“Please, don’t cry. I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’ve just… you smelled so good, and blood didn’t exactly rush into my brain, and… God, forgive me,” he rushed out, and then ran out of there like the hellhounds were at his heels.


“It’s not your fault,” Buffy said to an empty space.


******


Knock! Knock!


Spike glanced up from where he was sprawled on his bed, brooding and wallowing. It had to be Buffy, unless he’d forgotten a poker night with Clem, but he postponed it after Buffy woke up from the coma. It had to be her. But why would she even approach him after what he’d done? After he proved that he really was nothing but a monster that couldn’t keep promises and his own libido in check?


The doorknob turned after a slight hesitation and he sat up when Buffy stepped in, dressed in a simple cream-coloured sundress that fell to her knees, a mug in her hand. Her hair was long, curled around the edges as it framed her breasts. She was a vision.


“I brought you food,” she stated and lifted the mug in demonstration. Spike only stared.


“I noticed the stale blood on your nightstand the other day and I thought… I thought you were probably hungry.” She crossed the distance and put it down, hovering above him, fidgeting and nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.


“Why?” Spike asked, his voice confused, disbelieving.


“You don’t seem to be eating so well so I-“


“No. I meant… don’t you hate me? You should. Look at what I did! After I promised to not demand anything from you.” He hung his head. “I’m a bloody monster. Who do I kid by thinking I could be more for you?”


“You’re not a monster… not to me. If you were, you wouldn’t have been taking care of me the way you did-”


“Yeah, and the minute you’re awake, I bloody well almost-” He glanced away from her. “I promised you.”


“It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong… I liked the neck… stuff. It’s just… it’s hard to overcome the memories sometimes, but it has nothing to do with you.” She sat down next to him and sighed. “I’m being selfish.”


“Wha-” Spike stared at her in confusion.


“I am. I need you to touch me, but when it gets too… you know… I freeze. And it’s not fair to you. You stopped the moment you felt something was wrong, so please don’t blame yourself.”


“Buffy… I’m no saint. As much as it pains me to say this… I don’t want to stop. You’re in my blood. I need to have you, to taste you… in all ways.”


“And I want you to… so much.” She bowed her head. “Would I be a horrible person if I asked you to kiss me? To… touch me? I mean after-” Buffy couldn’t look at him, not when her offer was burning out the air in the room, the flames of anticipation licking up her insides.


“I can live with that,” Spike said and bit his lower lip, his sensual gaze piercing her even without meeting his eyes. “If it gets to be too much for you… don’t be afraid to shove me away. You’re still the Slayer… Don’t ever forget it.”


Buffy glanced at him just in time to catch his descending lips, her eyelids drooping shut as the first brush of his heady taste hit her senses. The possessive yet gentle stroke of his tongue against hers, the caress of his fingers at the nape of her neck, the slide of his skin tickling hers making Buffy forget. Making her crave the forbidden point of ecstasy.


Falling down and hitting the sheets, the silk smooth and cool stoking the fire within through the thin layer of her dress. Spike’s tongue teasing the gap of her swollen lips as she tried not to pass out, sneaking out her own to meet him halfway, wrapping her lips around his tongue and sucking it into her mouth. He was all around her, his scent making her dizzy with need, the feel of his weight on top of her grounding her and allowing her to fly at the same time. They were one, no beginning and no ending, nothing but a guiltless pleasure that made the real world disappear as time stopped to matter.


“God, Buffy.” Spike raked his lips down the arched column of her throat as she struggled to gulp in air. Her fingers found themselves tangled in his hair, mumbled pleas of something beyond the raw need whispering past her quivering lips.


“I-” Buffy breathed out, struggling to speak past her panting. Spike instantly stilled his ministrations and gazed up at her, his raspy voice making her tingle. “Yeah?”


“I… need-” She locked her eyes with him, willing him to believe her. “-you.”


A heartbeat- or it could have been thousand of them- passed before his eyes filled with such a deep blazing passion, Buffy felt it mirrored within her. He kissed her deep and unhurried, tasting the very essence of her soul as he tentatively put his hand on her ribcage, dragging it upward until he brushed against the underside of her breast. Buffy’s sharp inhale prompted him to smother her neck with open mouthed kisses, murmuring into her skin as he went. “Gonna make you feel so good, luv. Will you let me?”


Was there a question? Did he expect her to form a coherent thought when she was swamped by a tide of pleasure? She was not going to let the memories steal this from her again, not when they had already taken so much from her. Would she let him? Buffy couldn’t do anything but nod and let him take over. Make her feel the way she’d never felt before. Loved.


His hands were cool and gentle, gliding over her bare thighs, bunching the dress up to her waist as he lay still clothed on top of her, fitting together like puzzle pieces. There was nothing she could compare this feeling of belonging to. Spike caressed her, moving slowly down her body, his eyes full of mischief and lust as he gazed up at her, never glancing away.


Her chest heaved, the blood rushing loudly in her ears, the anticipation almost unbearable as Spike kissed his way down her body. He was still looking at her, hesitant now, expecting her to withdraw and run away. But she didn’t. She was scared, not because he was too close, but because despite everything she’d been through, she’d never been touched this way before. No man had ever been interested in making her feel loved and wanted. Spike’s lips were getting closer and closer to the place no man had ever been inside.


This was something she’d been terrified of had she stayed enslaved longer, that Lukas would decide her true virginity didn’t have such a high price after all, enable just another faceless cruel man to rip away the last thing she had of her innocence. The first time was supposed to be with someone she loved and trusted, not made a trophy for someone determined to break her and leave her bleeding.


Spike had somehow managed to slip off her panties without her noticing, his eyes closed as he inhaled her scent. Buffy blushed, feeling embarrassed to be under such intimate scrutiny. Afraid to see if there was something wrong with her, but he just growled and suddenly she couldn’t think anymore, because his lips were on her body, tasting and probing. Buffy needed to ground herself lest she was dreaming and the feel of his tongue sliding inside her was just a hallucination. His hair was soft under his fingers, his eyes gazing into hers not allowing her to drown in the past, forcing her to stay here with him and feel everything he was doing to her.


The fire within her was impossible to bear, too hot, her skin too tight as he wrapped his lips around her most sensitive bundle of her nerves and suckled, his tongue flickering her sanity away. The sensations were too strong, too real, and she could never have enough. Buffy needed more… she simply needed.


The tightness in her belly went higher and higher until its release rushed through her, sweeping her away just as Spike slipped a finger inside her, both of their eyes widening when he encountered the barrier.


They went deathly still, her chest still heaving in the wake of her climax.


Spike didn’t know.


TBC


Author's note: I have to know what you think... it makes my fingers type so much faster! *winks*