Chapter 15

’i can't do the talk like they talking on the tv
and i can't do a love song like the way its meant to be
i can't do everything but i'd do anything for you
i can't do anything except be in love with you’
- “romeo and juliet” by dire straits

Spike let her sink to her feet by the foot of her bed. The room was cold as usual, the bed still the way she had left it this morning. With huge eyes, she looked up at him, fumbling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

“Second thoughts?” he asked, taking her hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“I thought you weren’t asking any questions,” Buffy tried to make her quip sound perky but failed miserably. She knew that he would see right through her, so her shoulders sagged in defeat. “I imagined what it would be like if you ever came back. I thought about what we would say, what we would do.” She hesitated for a second, lowering her eyes. “It was never like this. So I guess I’m just a little scared, is all.” She looked back up again but shied away instantly when she saw the compassionate look on his face. Covering her tear-brimmed eyes with one hand, she turned away from him. “God, this is so stupid. I asked for this and now I’m bailing out on you. I’m sorry.” Her shoulders twitched with a quiet sob.

Spike stepped up behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” If he was disappointed, it didn’t show in his voice.

“No, I… I want this… you. It’s just… I thought it would be easier. It was easier back then.”

“Well, we both have changed quite a bit.” He ran his hands down her arms, then wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “We’re going to take this nice and slow.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair, taking in her scent. “We have all the time in the world.”

“No, we don’t.” Buffy’s voice didn’t sound as sad as her words were meant to be. She leaned back into him, letting him kiss that spot behind her ear that made her mewl like a kitten.

“I don’t care.” He kissed the spot again. “I’m trying to seduce you here, so we’ll take that time.”

He brushed her hair away, trailing a series of kisses down the side of her neck. With the other hand, he slightly tugged at her shirt. When his fingers brushed the bare skin of her belly, she sucked in a breath, standing on tiptoes, pressing against him.

A low chuckle rumbled against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “I haven’t even started yet.”

“I know,” Buffy all but whimpered. “It’s just been so long since someone touched me like this.”

Gently, he pushed her around to face him. Slowly, she opened her eyes. “There has been no one else?” He sounded almost surprised.

“Not since the Immortal,” she confirmed quietly.

“We’re pathetic, aren’t we?”

“Pretty much.” Her hands started to roam over his chest. “There was something about seducing me? Can we go on with that? ‘Cause that felt really good.”

As an answer, Spike gave her a soft kiss on the lips, brushing her fingers through her hair. His hands trailed down her spine, coming to rest in the small of her back. He pulled her against him; his fingers slipped underneath her shirt, carressing her skin. As the kiss deepened, his hands explored her back, eliciting a whimper here and there.

Buffy’s fingers found the bottom button of his shirt, fumbling a little with it before she got it open. Her nails gently grazed the skin of his belly, softly tickling his sides.

A panted moan escaped him, urging Buffy on to unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.

He winced when her fingers brushed against the tender flesh of his wound. It had healed already but the scar was still pink and raw.

She broke the kiss, and looked up at him. He had his eyes closed, and his nostrils flared a little. Her hands moved up his arms, his biceps twitching under the touch. She leaned into him, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck and collarbone. He drew in an unsteady breath when her lips encountered the wound.

A mixture of pain and pleasure made his senses tingle, and he had to steady himself against her. “You’re killing me,” he murmured into her hair.

Spike pushed her away from him, reached for the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head. Then, he knelt down on one knee, pulling down the zippers of her boots. It was still a mystery to him how she could walk let alone fight in high heels. Her socks went next before he ran his hands up her legs to the fly of her jeans.

When he glanced up at her, she was watching his every move with an almost fascinated curiosity. Gently, he peeled her out of her pants. As he rose, his fingers trailed a path up her calves, her thighs, over her hips, to her waist.

A tremor went through her body, and she let out a moan, bracing herself against his chest. It was only a light touch but was almost enough to send her over the edge already.

Spike looked down her body, drinking in the sight of her. Now that she was only clad in a set of lacy black underwear. It almost seemed that this was one of the last shreds of femininity she had always kept for herself. No matter how many layers of slime and grime she was covered in, what she wore underneath was always sexy and delicate.

Years ago, she had never let him look at her like this, had never let herself be open for him. Things had definitely changed between them.

Buffy reached behind her back to unhook the clasp of her bra but let him brush the straps off her shoulders. His fingers trailed down her arms, caressing her skin, her muscles twitching under his touch.

Her eyes flickered shut when his fingertips traced the underside of her breasts. She drew in a deep breath, her head rolling forward as her nipples hardened.

Again, he leaned into her, drawing her into a long, sensual kiss. Letting his hands travel down her sides, his fingers hooked into the lacy nothing of her panties.

Her hands closed over his before he could free her off the last piece of clothing, looking up at him. He let his hands sink, taking half a step back. With an almost amused look on his face, he watched her as she wriggled out of her panties.

When she saw his look, a crimson blush crept on her face and she covered her breasts with her arms, lowered her head. A wave of insecurity washed over her.

It had been ten years. Ten years that had turned her from a college student into the head of an army, ten years that hadn’t passed her by without leaving marks of her body. Suddenly, she seemed to be all too aware of them.

Spike brushed a strand of hair from her face, tilting her head up. With the other hand, he gently pushed her arms away. “Don’t hide from me.” he murmured soothingly into her ear as softly nipped at her lips. “You’re my beautiful, beautiful girl.”

Buffy let out a little snort. “Girl? I’m not in my twenties. I’m a thirty something now.”

He sighed almost unnerved. “I’m a one hundred and forty something. Talk about complexes.”

Her hands darted up to touch his abs. “How old were you?” she asked, letting her fingers graze his skin. “When you were turned?”

For a second, he looked away from her, licking his lips. The shadow of the memory clouded his features before he focused on her again. “Twenty-nine,” he replied almost sadly. “It was a few weeks before my thirtieth birthday.”

This time, it was Buffy’s turn to smirk. “You always get to stay twenty-nine? Lucky you. That’s what every woman dreams about.”

“Can we skip the nostalgia and get on with the sexy part?” He nudged her a little impatiently. “I’m trying to think gruesome thoughts but with you being naked, it’s just not working.”

“Let’s get even, then.” Her fingers trailed down his belly to the buckle of his jeans. Intently, he watched her hands as she undid his belt. She struggled a little with the top button before she got it open.

His mouth dropped open in a silent moan when her tiny hand slipped beneath the fly of his jeans. His brow furrowed and he desperately tried to keep his eyes open but they flickered shut when a wave of unbound pleasure washed over him.

“Oh my god.” His words were hushed, breathless. “You really shouldn’t be doing this.”

As an answer, she pressed a hard kiss on his lips, nudging towards the bed. Withdrawing her hands from his jeans, she gently pushed him down on the bed. His eyes never left hers when she knelt down in front of him and started to unlace his boots.

Even if his injured foot hurt when she pulled off his boot, he didn’t let it show. Or he didn’t feel it. There were things more important than that right now.

After a little logistic struggle, she pulled him to his feet again, undoing the rest of his fly, pulling his jeans down his legs.

If somebody had told Buffy ten years ago, that she would be standing here, simply enjoying the feeling of his naked body against hers, she probably would have punched that somebody in the nose. All he did was run his hands up her arms, drawing her nearer, and her breath was already becoming shorter, shallower.

He snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her against him, letting her feel his desire for her. Their kiss was slow, deep, and passionate. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoes, pressing up against him.

With a swift motion, Spike lifted her off her feet. He leaned with one knee on the bed, and let her slide onto the soft mattress. She let go off his neck, her arms falling over her head.

For a brief second, their eyes met when he broke the kiss. Then, he started licking and kissing a slow trail down her neck. His tongue found her pulse and remained there for a moment, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the soft spot.

He let the kisses trail down between her breasts, his fingers following the curves of her body, down her arms, tickling her armpits a little, until they found the soft swell of her breasts.

Buffy let out a whimper when his fingers grazed her nipples. She bowed her back, pressing into his touch. She felt him grin in satisfaction against her belly.

Gently, he nudged her legs apart with his hips, moving even deeper down her body. Her breath hitched in her throat when he found the warmth of her center. He peppered her sensitive flesh with open mouthed kisses, gentle licks and soft touches.

She had always loved it when he had gone down on her. It had been the one moment when she had let herself go. A little at least. Whenever they had had sex, she had been the one in control. She had set the rules, the boundaries. But in these tiny moments, she had given him the control, let herself be just another regular woman.

And now after almost ten years of abstinence, she was in that spot again. It didn’t take him long to take her over the edge. Her hands clawed at the already rumpled bed sheets, her toes curled and her back arched even more. She let out a strangled little cry that almost sounded like his name. She heard the blood rushing in her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the sensations that rushed through her.

When she came down from her high, Spike was trailing tiny kisses down over her thigh and back up over her groin, her pelvic bone. She reached out a hand to touch his face, drawing his attention to her.

“Come here,” she whispered softly, her index finger underneath his chin.

With the graceful elegance of a cat, he crawled up her body, his muscles shifting beneath his skin. His eyes had darkened considerably, deep black replacing the usual blue.

When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his tongue. The thought of that made her hand travel on its own accord until her fingers closed around him. He almost bit down on her bottom lip at the sensation of her little hand stroking him. Leaning his weight on his good arm, his other hand closed around hers.

“You really shouldn’t be doing this.” His voice was hoarse, heavy with need and desire.

Buffy grinned a saucy little grin. “You didn’t use to complain when I did this.”

Once more, their eyes met. “I’m not complaining.” He swallowed hard, finally stilling her motions. “Still. I might have superpowers but there is only so much a vampire can withstand.”

She chuckled almost triumphantly. Again, she pulled him down into a kiss. When she broke for air, her face was serious, the lightness of the previous moment evaporated. “Can we take this slow?” She knew that he would understand what she meant. He always had a talent for listening to her, more specifically to the things that she didn’t say.

Spike looked at her for a long moment. Then, he snaked one arm around her waist, rolled onto his back and pulled her into his lap. She came to rest on his thighs when he sat up to face her. With one hand, he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Take all the time you need.” He accentuated his words with little kisses when his voice started to shake. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not ever again.”

They both knew about the heavy burden that came with his words. It was something that Buffy had pushed into the far corner of her memory a long time ago. But they also knew that they had to bring it up at some point. It was part of their history. The darkest point but probably also the most important one.

He had to say those words, for her and for himself. Even though he had already brought her off just now, his mouth at her most intimate region, this was different.

They had never talked about it afterwards, not directly afterwards (the fact that he had left town right afterwards notwithstanding) and not when he had returned to Sunnydale either. Although it had loomed overhead in every passing minute, they had avoided the topic with their usual stupidity.

Buffy had thought that what had happened between them in those last few days in Sunnydale had been enough to finally convince him, that she had forgiven (if not forgotten) it. She should have known that he needed reassurance. Even though he’d never admit it, when it came to this he was as insecure as a little boy. And that had nothing to do with the soul.

She took his hand in his, slowly guiding it between their bodies. Words weren’t actually necessary but she knew that he needed to hear them. “I want you to touch me,” she breathed against his mouth, gently nipping at his bottom lip.

She sucked in a breath when his fingers gently parted her, teasing her. He guided himself to her entrance, and ever so slowly she let her herself sink down on him. Her eyes threatened to flicker shut at the sensation, but he brought her attention back to him when one of his fingers grazed her most sensitive spot.

“Don’t close your eyes.” He tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “Look at me.”

Buffy’s eyes felt entirely too heavy but she forced them open again. Her mouth opened in a wordless moan as he eased her through the slight sting of pain.

A hushed “oh my god” escaped her mouth when she had taken him all the way in. Her body quivered a little, and she fought hard not to give into the sensation again so soon.

“Are you okay?” he asked, slightly concerned. She could only nod for an answer. “Are you with me?”

The last rational remnant of her mind knew what he was referring to, that one night in Sunnydale. He had asked her the same thing when they had been in her kitchen after the night in the abandoned house. All of his insecurity about their relationship had been evident on his face, the fear of having regained her trust and loosing it again, the fear of loosing that last bit of hope.

Their eyes met for a long moment, and Buffy’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, she breathed, running a hand over his face, reassuring him that she wasn’t a dream. “Yes. I’m here. I’m with you.”

An eternity ticked by in which they just sat in silence. Ever so slowly, she started to move in his lap, lifting her weight, then sinking down again. She leaned her forehead against his, her eyes never leaving his.

She wanted to draw this out, make it last as long as possible but the feel of him inside her, and the touch of his fingers was more than she could bear.

Her head rolled back, the long tresses of her hair falling down her back. His name blended into a strangled little cry that escaped her throat when she came for the second time.

Spike’s lips found her throat, gently nipping at the soft flesh. Her pulse was throbbing against his tongue, her body shuddering in his embrace. He looked at her again, drinking in the sight of her.

She was beautiful.

Her skin seemed to glow with a fine sheen of sweat as she leaned back into his arms. Her mouth parted in a silent gasp, and she drew in a shaky breath.

He had slept with her countless times, he had made her come in numerous ways but she had never looked this beautiful to him. She was there, she was with him. She came for him, with his name on her lips.

“I love you,” Spike said almost matter-of-factly. He wanted to say something more but words failed him.

The world around them seemed to disappear. She became his world, his life, his soul, his sun. She was everything.

The sensation of her body around him, the raw power of his emotions took him over the edge. And her along with him again.

She was clinging to him as though her life depended on it. At a leisurely pace, she moved against him, riding on the waves of her pleasure. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she pressed up against him, her heart thumping wildly inside her chest.

“Love you,” Buffy murmured against his neck, gently kissing him. “I love you, too.”

Neither of them knew how long they sat like this, him buried inside her, holding her in a tight embrace. Whenever she took a breath that was a little too deep, a shudder went through her body, making her cling to him even more.

After what seemed like hours, Spike wanted to pull back from her to lie back down but she held on to him.

“Don’t,” she whispered, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Can we… I want to feel you… inside.” And still, even after all these years, she felt uncomfortable making such a request.

Spike smiled at her, warm and gentle. “Just getting a little more comfortable.” When a tiny frown marred her brow, he added in a playful tone, “That’s what you’ getting for dating old men.”

She matched his tone. “And I don’t even get to inherit anything.”

He pulled her flush against him, making her yelp in delight. He linked one of his legs around the back of her calf, before he turned to one side, laying her down beside him.

“That better?” A smirk tugged at his lips, and she nodded for an answer. He brushed the hair from her forehead, pressing a soft kiss to her skin.

Buffy looked at him for a long while, studying his features as he studied hers.

They had been in a similar position a decade ago, only less intimate. Or well, differently intimate. If she wasn’t aware that it had been a long process, she would have said that she had fallen for him that very moment. But no, she had known on various occasions. When he had asked her for help in the old woman’s basement; when she had freed him from the cave; in the night after her date with Robin Wood; and many, many more times. Those little looks, little gestures (some of which Andrew had burned on that DVD) that had proven his feelings more than the words she had refused to believe for such a long time.

Suddenly, out of the blue, she said, “I’m cookies.”

***