Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter is most definitely NC-17—for those who have been waiting patiently, here is the smut…enjoy!



Buffy cornered Tara and Anya in the shop before closing time.

“You guys did this—you need to figure out what’s up with this spell.”

“Has it had some…unforeseen side effects, Buffy?” Tara asked, curious about the effects the spell had on Buffy and Spike. Buffy pulled her to the side, and lowered her voice.

“You mean, between me and Spike? Other than the extreme emotionalism, the incredible impulses to expound on our love, and the tearing feeling when we’re apart? No, none that I know of. Tara, something funky is going down in the city. Every one of us has been in a blue mood, and the angst has been pretty thick around here lately. Don’t you think that this needs to be investigated?”

Anya watched them closely, then spoke loudly. “I hope that this hasn’t interfered with your and Spike’s orgasms too, Buffy. I know they mean a lot to you.”

Both girls turned to Anya, stunned. “What? What are you talking about, Anya?” Buffy asked.

“You and Spike. I’m very perceptive, you know. I know that you have been dating, and having many fantastic orgasms. I hope that when you got caught in the backlash, it didn’t affect you both like it did me and Xander.”

“Anya, how did you know?” Tara whispered.

“Oh, anyone with eyes can tell. Except the rest of our little gang. They’re blind to most everything about you, Buffy, except for the Slayer gig.”

“And you know so much because….” Buffy said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Hello, ex-demon here. I have some powers left. Like sensing when couples are having trouble. Not to mention, you two are the talk of the demon community, the Slayer and the vampire that fights his own kind. All kinds of gossip, if you only know the right people.”

“How long have you known, Anya?”

“Oh, since you worked in the shop. I guess you played poker with him that evening….”

“He played poker. I got drunk.”

Anya leaned forward, bracing her chin on her hands. “Please, do tell. Details, please.”

“I am so not telling you mine and Spike’s bedroom secrets.”

“Is he well-endowed? Does he make you have many multiple orgasms? I have heard about vampire’s unbelievable stamina, is it true?”

“Tara, make her stop. I am not answering those questions, or any others, Anya.” She started to the door of the shop, ignoring the girl’s pout, and paused before leaving. “Get started on the researchy bit—if you don’t have me some answers soon, I’m going to have to tell Xander and Willow what you two got us into.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy went back to the crypt, depression written clearly across her features, in the set of her shoulders. Spike looked across the crypt at her, worry furrowing his brow, and she waved him away. “Don’t look at me, don’t touch me, don’t make it any worse than what it already is. If a woman can get blue balls, I’ve got them. I can’t stop thinking about sex. I’m almost as bad as a man.”

“Huh? What are you talking about, pet? As bad as a man?”

“Men think of sex once every five seconds. I’ve managed to stretch it to seven. My p—my body it throbbing so hard I can barely walk. The pressure from my jeans is driving me insane, I feel like I just want to hump the nearest—anything. I have washed up and changed my panties four times already today. And it’s not even four o’clock yet. How am I gonna make it four more days?”

Spike looked down at his dejected Slayer, an evil grin splitting his face. “There are ways to take care of that, pet. Ways that won’t get us a little shock.”

She looked up at him confused. “We only get a jolt if we touch each other. I’ve not been jolted when I’ve touched myself.”

“You’ve been masturbating?” She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t resorted to that yet.”

“No? What about riding the seam of those jeans, pet? Think that’s not self abuse?”

She blushed, unaware that he’d noticed that. “I notice everything you do, pet,” he said, reading her mind.

“So, what are you thinking? We…masturbate in front of each other?”

“That’s the idea, pet. You want a go?”

Her breath quickened, and heart pounded, the thought of his perfect body, nude and glistening, his hand stroking the cause of some of her greatest pleasures…. She shivered and licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. “I—I don’t want to get shocked again, honey. It hurts.”

“I know, pet. Hurt me too. This…didn’t hurt when I did it, after you left. If we did it together…it might…well, I don’t think that it would hurt. And it would relieve some tension…which would be good for both of us.”

“O-okay.” She licked her lips again, suddenly nervous at the ideas the suggestion was putting in her head. “What do we do then, Spike?”

Bollix. He didn’t know…on the spur of the moment, he sat a chair in front of his comfortable chair, several feet between them. He took his overshirt off, draping it over the seat, and stripped his tee shirt, muscles rippling in the dim light in the room.

She caught her breath in her throat, and her hand stroked against her nipple through the thin material of her shirt and camisole. He saw her move, watched her touching herself, and growled deep in his throat. “That would feel better, I’m sure, if you were undressed, love.” She moved her hands slowly to her buttons, and started unbuttoning them at a maddening pace.

She was hypnotic as she moved, her fingers fumbling with buttons long familiar to her, finally giving up and ripping the shirt open, buttons flying like bullets through the crypt. He barely registered one as it whinged by his ear, he was so intent on the vision before him. Her nipples, already erect, showed clearly through the thin camisole she wore, dusky pink and straining the fabric.

She removed her outer shirt and pulled the camisole over her head, anxious to feel skin on skin, even if it was her own. She cupped her breasts in both her hands, nipples brushing her palms, and she moaned as he stood there before her, hips jutting and shoulders slouched, staring right back at her.

She moaned at the sight and the sensation, and he moved toward her. She put her hand out in front of her, warding him off. “No. No shocky. Can’t take it, not now.”

He backed away shakily, then sat down on the hard chair, jeans straining at the bulge growing inside them. He ran shaky hands through his hair, and said, “Buffy, I don’t think that I can—“

“You damn well can. I am. It feels better than…God, Spike, I need to come. So bad….” Words escaped her as she trailed her hand over her skin, back and forth across her stomach, up over one breast, then across to pinch the nipple of the other breast.

Spike forgot the familiar in and out of breathing. He forgot to think. His mind was centered on the sight in front of him, and all else was gone. He watched her tiny hands tracing patterns over her most sensitive spots, then looked up to her face and saw the shy smile ghosting her mouth. “Come on, Big Bad, you gonna strip down for me? Do your sexy dance?”

“Don’t have a sexy dance.”

“You may be the big bad, but I know you have a sexy dance. Everyone has a sexy dance.”

He yanked his pants open, and his cock burst out of his fly. “Don’t need a sexy dance.”

She pouted. “Okay, so hold back, that’s okay. You can do your sexy dance for me tomorrow. Just, please…touch yourself. Touch that beautiful cock for me.”

He gripped himself, ran his hand over the length of him. She licked her lips again, mouth suddenly dry, and watched him pump himself mindlessly for a moment, then he sat on the edge of the chair, leaning back to relax and enjoy the show.

She skimmed her hands down her stomach, and slid her fingertips into the waistband of her low cut jeans. He could hear her nails rasping over her flesh, the crisp sound of curls disturbed by her movements. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he remembered her taste. She had the most delicate flavor, like fine wine on his tongue. He watched her and ran his tongue over his teeth, realizing that though he couldn’t taste her, he could still smell the tantalizing perfume that was Buffy aroused.

His hand glided over his skin, the head taking on a pearly pink hue as blood rushed to fill it, harden it to mythical proportions. Buffy licked her lips, remembering its velvety goodness against her mouth, how lusciously cool it felt between her lips, soothing her throat, and her mouth watered, needing it.

She pouted. “This is making it worse. All I want is to do nasty, horribly dirty things with my vampire.”

“Really, you don’t say? We needed a spell like this, then. And speak for yourself. I like what we’re doing. I think you like it too. Otherwise, would you be flooding your knickers with your juices there?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked up at him defiantly. “And you’re hard because…?”

“Because I can smell you and taste you on my tongue—you’re half-naked in front of me, and you know how I love your body, every inch—and I bloody well love you, you silly bint!” He stroked himself harder as he spoke, his fist moving almost faster than she could see.

“Oh, Spike—I had no idea. I didn’t know you liked my tits so much.” She cupped her breasts like an offering, and looked at them critically. “Which one do you like better? The right or the left?”

“They’re both bleedin’ perfect, Buffy.”

“I think I like the left one better.” She bent her head, and swirled her tongue around her left nipple. He let his breath out in a huff, amazed at the minx. She twisted her right nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and smiled up at him. “Don’t you wish you could touch them, Spike?”

“Yes—ugh, Buffy, yes. Beautiful breasts. Luscious nibblets.” He closed his eyes for a moment, memory undoing him.

“Oh, no, Spike. You started this game, you finish it.” She waited until he opened his eyes, and unzipped her jeans, hooking her fingers in them and dragging them off her rounded ass. “Now, what about here? What do you like about my—what is it you call it? My quim. My pussy. My cunny. Do you like it, Spike? Do you crave it?” She parted her knees, and saw her curls, then her hand covered it protectively and she said, “Will you always treat it right, Spike? Will you always love it, touch it, taste it, fuck it?”

“Oh, fuck, Buffy, until I’m dust. You’re beautiful, pet.”

She dipped a finger into her glistening slit and brought it to her mouth. “Hmm—wish you could taste me.” She sucked the finger into his mouth, and he growled, his hand still flying. She licked her finger clean, then reached down to spread the outer labia, exposing the sweetness inside. Her whole quim open to his view, he memorized every fold, every detail as he drank his fill with his eyes.

She started stroking herself, one finger traveling from clit to vagina and back again, slicking herself up with her essence. He was gasping for breath while she stroked her clit, eyes wide open and watching him, and then she started talking and his world began to spin.

“Oh, Spike, don’t you wish you were doing this for me? Touching me. Making me moan your name. Making me beg you to fuck me. It feels good, baby, when you fuck me. Make me beg for more. Beg to come.”

He was close, she could tell. She also knew that he was holding back, waiting for her. She thought of the possibility of getting caught, and that sent a shrill shock of pleasure through her—the thought of the gang finding her here, masturbating in front of Spike. She frantically plunged three fingers inside her, bending them to reach that sweet spot that Spike had found, and twisted her clit between her fingers with the other hand. Throwing her head back, she panted, “Spike…lover…need to come…come…with…me….”

“With you, love.” He watched her eyes glaze as her breathing turned to shrieking, her words unintelligible but their meaning clear—he had heard them many times before. He tightened his fist, and his cock began to spasm in his hand, jetting creamy fluid across the floor between them.

Buffy lay spread-eagle in the chair, too exhausted to dress herself. She had ruined her shirt, and was going to have to raid Spike’s closet for something to wear anyway. Spike sat watching her, and she finally mustered the strength to roll her eyes toward him. “What?”

“Just—you know, pet, you’re bloody amazing. You always surprise me, do you know that?”

“Thanks—I think.” She stood, and pulled up her jeans.

“So, why are you going commando now, pet? Not something I thought you would fancy.”

“Just trying to save on detergent. I—got all my panties wet. See, that’s another reason to get rid of this stupid spell! Laundry and…and…having to wank off in front of each other.”

She heard a rumbling noise begin across the room, and looked up to find Spike—laughing. His nose crinkled, his eyes merrily bright, he was laughing at her frustration! Stupid vampire, she thought. “And what is so funny?”

“Well, if you’d just give up the darn things, then you’d save money for them anyway, because I always seem to tear them off of you.”

She sat back down, and pulled her camisole on. “I know. I just like the frillies. I like feeling like a girl.”

He stood and tucked himself away, then sauntered over to her. “I do too. Like you feeling like a girl, that is.” He bent down to kiss the side of her neck, which was safe, they’d discovered, as long as they weren’t pressed together. “Love you, pet.”

“I hope those girls have made some headway with the research, because I’m to the point of talking them into eloping.”

Spike looked down at her, an idea forming in his head. “That could be our answer, pet. Eloping.”

“Who, us?”

“No. Xander and Anya.”