A/N: What the hell happened in the last chapter, you ask. Well, Spike went to take a shower! What more do you need to remember?! *g*

Beta'd by lovely All4Spike and BloodyHell.


Chapter 8


She was bored. If anyone thought lounging around in a cheap hotel room sounded like fun, they were deeply mistaken. And while Spike was still in the shower, singing as loud and as obnoxiously as possible, she had to find amusement elsewhere. Fifteen minutes of being alone and she was ready to climb the walls.


“Oh, a cheesy picture,” she commented and poked at the picture frame to right the lopsided side.


Never really knowing her strength, Buffy pushed it too hard and the frame crashed to the floor with a glass shattering impact. She stared at it with her eyes wide, index finger still up in the air.


“Oops.”


As if agreeing with her, a bit of plaster fluttered to the floor as well.


“Can’t I leave you for a few minutes without you resorting to vandalism?” Spike’s voice carried to her ears. How come she’d never noticed the shower turning off? Sneaky vampire.


She turned on her heel, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to.”


“With that piece of crap, you did the world a favour.”


She was about to say something when the image of Spike finally registered in her brain.


Mmmm…


His lips were moving and there was sound coming out but the only thing she could focus on were the tiny droplets of water clinging to his skin, shivering before finally succumbing to gravity and gliding down the velvet of Spike’s bare skin.


To better appreciate the sight, Buffy tilted her head to the side and her gaze slid from the graceful arch of his neck to feast on his muscular chest. It was rising and falling as he took in breaths he didn’t need. Greedy for more, her gaze traveled to the slightly concave flesh of his equally muscular abdomen which tensed slightly under her inspection.


Somewhere in the back of her mind, the alarms were going off, but she couldn’t get her brain to work enough to do something about it. Couldn’t tear her eyes off. At that moment, it seemed imperative to appreciate the half naked male masterpiece in front of her. Surely even her mother would commend her on taking interest in art. And Spike’s big beautiful hands attached to the wiry strong arms were art enough in her opinion.


Oh, happy trail.


She felt very happy just looking at it indeed. And the way his tight black jeans were unbuttoned at the top and rode really low on his narrow hips? She needed a glass of water to chase away the sudden dryness in her mouth. She really, really, shouldn’t be looking at him like this. It had to be wrong. If only her traitorous eyes, which had traveled back up to his face, listened to her brain.


Somehow she’d inched her way closer to him.


If she lifted her hand, she could touch him. Caress the smoothness of his pale skin. The silence was disrupted only by the swishing sound of the air conditioner swinging around above their heads. It must have been uncomfortable for him to stay so wet in the cool room. Maybe she should help him out. Lick those droplets of water off his skin.


You’d know about being wet, wouldn’t you? her subconscious whispered mockingly.


Yuh huh, was her only coherent response.


He stared into her eyes, dark and intense, hypnotising her with a promise of the sweetest sin. The most forbidden ecstasy. His nostrils flared right before one of his hands tangled in the mussed hair at the nape of her neck to pull her close. The contact made the breath escape her throat in a sharp exhale, made her chest burn.


Dazed, her fingers trailed up his stomach to finally rest on his chest. What a nice chest it was. Firm, moist, the scent of his freshly showered skin invading her nose in the headiest way. She could almost taste the burn between them, just enough electricity crackling everywhere they touched each other to run a small power plant.


His fingers tightened in her hair to tug her closer before his lips crashed into hers. The breath got caught in her throat before she exhaled a drawn out moan into his demanding lips. God but he was talented. Using just enough pressure to make the blood in her veins boil and teasing her swollen lips with the tip of his tongue but never quite giving her what she needed. Teasing her.


Not one to be outdone, Buffy suckled on his lower lip until his body tensed against hers and she bit him slightly, knowing it would make him hot. Somehow, making Spike plead for her touch seemed imperative at the moment. And plead he did. Breathless little whimpers, the length of his body pressed against hers in a desperate need to be closer. To melt into her.


Her fingernails raked down his naked back, leaving red welts in their wake. She wanted to mark him. To possess him. To make him hers. She’d never desired anyone as much as she did Spike right at this moment. She craved everything. His body on hers, skin sliding against skin, those rumbling sounds within his chest as he deepened the kiss.


His hands dropped to her hips, gripping tightly as she touched the tip of her tongue to his, massaging it and chasing it back into his mouth with a thirst she’d never before experienced. Every slant of his lips was igniting fire within her core.


She was going to burn up.


“Slayer!” Spike called, successfully tearing her out of the daydream.


Her eyes went impossibly wide upon the realization she had been daydreaming. And that it was, in fact, a fantasy. “W-what?”


Such a good question too. What the hell had she been doing?


“Bloody hell, I’ve been yelling at you for at least a minute straight.”


Oh God, I was thinking of making out with Spike. With Spike! What is wrong with me?


“I…” Work brain, work! “Umm… what w-were you saying?”


“Just that we should rest up while the sun’s up. And possibly get you some clothes that aren’t bloodied up. The scent is driving me insane.”


Every step he took to get closer had her barely repressed urge to run skyrocket to unbearable levels. He was peering at her face now as though he could see whatever was wrong with her tattooed on her forehead.


“G-good. Yes. Clothes are of the… best.”


Must look away from his…. Oh no, no, no. I cannot be lusting after the pest! It must be the leftover drug influence. It must be!


Meanwhile Spike watched the Slayer turn as red as the blood he’d poured on his pancakes two weeks ago. Her elevated heartbeat jack hammered so loudly it in his ears he almost couldn’t hear his own thoughts. She wasn’t getting sick, was she? He wasn’t hauling her arse back to hospital again.


He was not!


“Are you feeling alright, Slayer? You’re turning an interesting shade of purple.”


She jumped up and put on the fakest smile he’d ever seen.


“Peachy! With the… you know… keenness and all.”


“I thought the concussion was all cleared up. Should we go back to the hospital to have them check you out?”


There went his resolution again.


Buffy paced around the room with the scratchy motel blanket trailing behind her. And she was avoiding eye contact. Women were the most puzzling creatures. And he counted all the demon species as well.


“No! No hospital. It’s just… I think maybe the drugs haven’t fizzled out completely yet. Feel kinda wonky.”


He frowned. “You seemed alright before I went to shower.”


“Oh my God.” She sat down on the bed and put her face in her hands, mumbling something unintelligible.


Feeling awkward, Spike fidgeted in the same spot while he contemplated the bug that had flown up the Slayer’s skirts. Now that he focused, he couldn’t smell any sickness on her. Not like he could when she had concussion. It had to be something else then.


He sniffed the air, stopped in his tracks, and repeated the process again.


Well, well…


Did the Slayer get her knickers all in a twist by staring at him? Now that he thought about it, all the signs pointed towards yes. The glazed over eyes glued to his half naked form before he snapped his fingers in front of her face, the parted lips, the frantic heartbeat. He couldn’t really blame her. After all, he knew how hot he looked without his tee on.


The grin that appeared on his face was positively evil.


“Slayer,” he murmured huskily.


“What?” she squeaked out without looking at him.


“You know… I don’t think this air condition is top notch. I’m all… hot. Aren’t you?” He smirked.


“Bathroom!” She leaped to her feet. “Need to go.”


Yeah, most likely to take a cold shower.


Sure enough, few seconds later he could hear the water running. Immensely proud of finding a new way to torture the Slayer, Spike sprawled back on his bed with a satisfied grin.


*******


Buffy climbed out of the shower stall, her morose mood clinging to her even after the water washed away the wrong lusty feelings. To sometimes engage in a very innocent dream she could pretend was just her subconscious being wacky was one thing. But this? This was wrong. On the scale from one to ten, this climbed so far up the ladder it passed the dreaded ten with a wave and a crude middle finger straight to the ten’s imaginary face.


With a groan, Buffy wrapped a towel around her and tucked the end behind the top hem. Her clothes -- or should she say Spike’s shirt -- looked pretty much disgusting at this point. There was blood splattered on it from where she hit the windshield. And her underwear? In a dire need of a wash.


Buffy felt icky.


Really icky.


She stepped closer to the mirror and wiped the steam off the surface with a weary hand. Equally weary face stared back at her as she ran her fingers thorough her hair in a fruitless effort to untangle the strands. Then she turned the water on to fill the sink and dumped both the shirt and the panties in. Nothing better than to do than wash her clothes the old fashioned way.


Yay.


She rubbed the bar of unscented soap all over the soaked fabric and proceeded to wring them in the water that slowly caught a pinkish hue. After she managed to get some of the grime off, she pulled out the plug and watched it drain away before filling the sink again and repeating the process. Not that she was all that meticulous or knew what the hell she was doing, but it beat getting back into the bedroom and facing the object of her very misguided fantasy.


Maybe she could spend the night here in the bathroom. Who needed a comforter anyway? She could just camp out in the tub. That sounded reasonable enough. Right?


Knock. Knock.


Buffy stilled her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she was really quiet, he’d think she gave him a slip. Except there weren’t any windows. Oh, crap.



“Slayer!”


She took in a calming breath and yelled back, “What do you want?”


“You didn’t slip and crack your head in there, did you?”


“No! Would you just leave me alone?”


There was silence on the other side for a few seconds before Spike replied, “Alright then. No need to get touchy all of a sudden. Just got worried is all.”


She heard him stomp away from the door. She got her mind back on the menial task, desperately trying to force her thoughts away from him. Why did he always have to complicate her life? And why was she letting him? What was it about him that always stilled her hand every time she was about to deal the final blow? He was evil. Evil vampire equaled getting impaled by Mr. Pointy.


And why hadn’t he killed her yet?


What scared her even more than the unexplainable -- and completely evil -- pull between them was how easily she could trust him. So effortlessly she often even didn’t realize she was doing it. Like falling asleep next to him in the car or in the same room. And she was still fervently repressing the brief flashes of memories from her time at hospital. There was something… did she really ask -- no, demand -- him to hold her? And why did he comply? Why not take his damn coat and swagger off after his precious Drusilla?


A headache started to pound in her temples.


Buffy’s tumultuous thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door crashing open.


Ah, not now!


Immediately, she pushed all her doubts away, unlocked the door and jumped into the bedroom to face the threat. She just hoped the Amazons hadn’t fully infiltrated their room yet.


TBC


A/N: Do you hate me for teasing you with fake kissage? ;)