Chapter 35 - Tastes
“So, about the blood.”
“Yeah, love?” He paused expectantly.
“I thought maybe once a week and see how it goes? I need time to replenish or whatever, but it shouldn’t take as long as normal people. And I was thinking Saturday nights, after patrol. It took a whole day last time for the mark to fade. I can avoid people on Sunday day easily enough until patrol at night. So what do you think?” she finished nervously at Spike, who had so far not changed his expression.
“Sounds fine. Since we missed our last Saturday, what say we catch up now?”
Buffy sighed. “Fine. I guess I can avoid Mom tonight. I don’t have anything to do tomorrow, I suppose.”
“Where is Joyce?”
“Setting up at the gallery, going over things, whatever you do when you take up a new management position. So, where do you want to do this?”
“How ’bout the couch?”
Spike followed her into the living room, sat down, and patted his knees. Buffy sat sideways on the right side of his lap, and he reached out to brush her hair behind her ear. She must have flinched, because he said, “Buffy. Relax.”
“Yeah, easy for you to say. You’re not about to bite you.”
Spike ran his fingers through her hair. “It won’t really hurt.”
“What, you’re going to sink your teeth into me and it’s not going to hurt? Yeah, last time was a shining example of that.”
“I might’ve gotten carried away a bit. It’s been a while since I had Slayer—and that lick in the alley doesn’t count.”
“Since you had Slayer?” she asked incredulously. Hello, Buffy buffet.
“And you didn’t seem to be takin’ the situation seriously.”
“You mean you bit me hard on purpose?” she demanded.
“Maybe. A little. But I won’t, now.”
He pulled her closer and leaned in. “Trust me,” he whispered against her skin.
She had little choice but to do so, and she knew that she did or she wouldn’t be letting him do this at all.
Spike pulled her to him, angling her and readjusting her position slightly. He turned his head and began nuzzling and sucking at the right side of her neck. She tensed again, but made herself relax, even as she felt his teeth shift against her throat.
They paused and then entered slowly, like razors piercing the skin. It stung, hurt some—but it felt like someone biting her, not like someone trying to rip her throat out. Not that he had tried to rip her throat out last time, but he had definitely been more forceful.
So concentrated was she on the feel of the teeth, Buffy didn’t notice the pull until after a few moments. As if realizing it for the first time, it dawned on her that he wasn’t only biting her, he was sucking. Her blood was being slowly drawn; she could feel it draining from her veins and flowing out, her heart pumping to compensate the loss.
Spike’s left arm was wrapped around her, securing her tightly to him. His right supported them as he slowly leaned, suspending Buffy as he bent down. A moment later and she felt the cushion of the couch beneath her back. Spike was twisted over her, his mouth still attached to her neck.
After a moment more, he released his bite, but changed nothing else about his position. Buffy felt his human lips on her skin again, catching the last that spilled out. Spike ran his tongue over the spot several times, before he dropped his head onto the cushion as well. She felt his breath against her neck, and suddenly their position reminded her of nothing so much as the time after they had been together.
His left arm was still trapped beneath her, but his right, no longer supporting them, moved up her arm, her neck, and finally his hand came to rest on her face. It was warm, she realized. Her blood, hot inside him. He had been in her, had pulled her out of her, and now she was in him. The connection was surreal and slightly chilling, suddenly seeming more intimate than anything else they had done.
Spike slowly sat up. Buffy started to do likewise, but a hand against her collarbone and a shake of his head decided her against it. He half leaned against the couch, right arm draping over the back, while his other hand lingered by her face, absently fingering flyaway wisps of hair.
“You took more than last time,” she finally said.
“Yeah. But it didn’t hurt?”
Buffy sighed, closing her eyes. “If I had any sense— I mean, I really should worry about you draining me or something.”
“Yeah, well,” she heard him say in a bored tone.
“I know I’m going to die someday. What with the Slaying and all.”
“And here I thought the point of this was to avoid that. What are you gettin’ at?”
“I don’t know. I guess if you do lose control or something, don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s no big deal. I’m going to die anyway, but I wouldn’t mind so much if it was you.”
Spike jerked suddenly, grabbing her chin roughly and causing her to open her eyes. “Don’t you ever say that again,” he ordered. “Ever.”
His grip on her was bordering on painful, his eyes dark with anger.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Spike released his hold on her and leaned back, straightening up.
“Do you want me to? Is that what this is really about?”
“No! I swear, I didn’t think of it till just now. It’s the blood going to my head, or the lack thereof. I wasn’t thinking.”
“And I’m not gonna lose control. Or I would’ve drained you the first time.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s all right, love.” His eyes narrowed slightly at her, like he had just thought of something. But he didn’t speak.
“Do you have anywhere to be right now?” she asked after a moment.
“Can we just sit like this for a minute?”
His hand went back to playing with her hair. “Sure, pet.”
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