~~~







"This is so—yes. Yes. Ohhh. Ohhh, Spike." She arched, wuffed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, rubbing against his wet mouth, which suddenly wasn't there. "What? Don't stop!"


When she checked he was staring at her, hair-pulled, lip-swollen, a little spacey, hands still gripping her doubled knees.


Something was happening in him, that was clear. As she watched, his eyes went filmy, he winced and turned his head.


She sat up—he was kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed. His shoulders and chest were marked where she'd scratched him earlier during a thrashing rolling fuck, but otherwise he was a starved kind of pale.


"Spike? What is it?"


He seized her too fast, so their heads clacked, his mouth grinding against hers so her teeth cut the inside of her lip. His face was streaked with her juices, and with tears she could feel sliding into their fused mouths. Her first instinct, the old instinct, was to shove him away—quit that!—but she took hold of him instead, detaching him gently. He gasped, his forehead rolling against hers, and kissed her again, too needy to be held off.


"Don't cry," she whispered. "Oh Spike. Don't. We're having such a nice afternoon." The last afternoon, the last motel room, before Sunnydale.


"You don't love me."


She didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but it wasn't this.


She started to speak, but he cut her off. "All this I'm tryin' to show you—give you—an' it's still not enough, is it? Can never comfort you, can never be your home, not like you're mine. An' now I'm supposed to just take you back there .... And there's nothing else for it. I know there isn't. You have to go back an' face them, an' I have to go with you. But it's a bloody shame and a waste, to go out like that. That's all."


She knew what he meant—he was certain they'd be slain, or worse, that he'd be dust and she'd be subject to some spell of Willow's meant to fix her. The very thing they'd run away from in the first place.


He wouldn't meet her eyes. He wept, and he was like a little child who knew he had to part from his mother, who had no power to keep her from going. She'd seen him cry before, seen him plunged in self-pity, but Buffy had never seen him quite like this, so distraught, almost unhinged.


Tugging him up onto the bed, she wrapped her arms around him. His body was cool and bony against hers. He shuddered over and over, even as she tried to ease him, stroking his whip-tense back.


"And if I did love you? Would that make what's going to happen in Sunnydale different?"


He lifted his face to hers. "Love's what makes you strong, yeah?"


She was confused, but the urging in his eyes, the sorrow, broke the meaning upon her. His distress wasn't all for himself, but for her—he was sorry for her because she couldn't return his love, and that meant she was going into her next struggle unarmed. All alone.


Spike lowered his eyes. "Sorry. Should've kept this to myself. Puts you on the spot. You don't an' that's as it should be, an' what do I know about what'll happen back there. Maybe they'll see reason and bobs yer uncle." He started to move back to his previous position on his knees, but she caught and stopped him.


"You do comfort me, and strengthen me, and you are so good to me, and I'm not made of stone." Her throat went tight, and her vision swam so he disappeared, everything disappeared, and the idea that they might both soon cease to be, that she wouldn't have time to be his friend and his mistress, choked her. A cry tore from her throat, like a beast escaping through the flesh.


When she could see again he was holding her, rocking her a little, her head tucked beneath his chin.


"Well well, there's you an' me having our little tantrums, grizzling like a couple of brats."


"I never want to leave you," she said, whispering into his breastbone. "I can't imagine anymore being without you."


"That so?"


"I swear it is. I swear. I know it's not enough, but I swear it's true."


"Needn't swear. A simple yes will do."


"Yes." She looked up into his face. He was grave and calm now, taking her in with an acceptance in his blue gaze that moved her. "And to prove it, I'll heed your advice. I'm not going to risk you by just going back there in broad daylight."


"It's the risk to you I can't stand."


She pressed a kiss to his brow. "I know. But you're right, it's too uncertain, and maybe I'm overconfident. We'll figure out a better way."


She waited for his nod, realizing with a mounting comprehension that she needed for him to agree. Needed him to trust her.


"Got something in mind?"


"Maybe. Let me sleep on it, and then I'll tell you."


He was still regarding her with that deep pensive look, but the trust she wanted was there. He smoothed her hair back with both hands, softly, like she was an animal he was petting. With a sigh she let her head fall onto his shoulder.


Spike said, "Sleep? You goin' to sleep now?"


"No." She let her hands travel down his body. "Not right this second." His cock rose to meet her fingers, and she smiled as she caressed it.


He smiled back. "Ah, that's pretty. An' it's pretty what you do to him."


She rolled the foreskin with her thumb, watching as the head pinkened and gave off a tear of fluid. "My hands aren't warm."


"They're all my delight, warm or not. As is all of you, and your cunny in particular. Lie back an' I'll finish my feast on it." He slipped off the side of the bed, and pulled her again towards the edge.


"Okay, but I want to kiss you first. Like that, that's good." She captured him with her legs and scooched close. "I never get to be taller than you except like this." She tipped his head back, to press her mouth to his face, making a slow circuit of hairline, brow, eyes and cheeks and nose, and finally the lips, going deeper and deeper. Spike's hands worked through her hair, stroking and tugging, harder as his excitement grew. She eased back a little, sticking her tongue out to trace the line of his mouth with the tip. "I think I could make you come just by kissing you."


"You could. You will."


"Would you like that?"


"I like everything you do to me. But you're distractin' me from my purpose. Show me your quim." He knelt back, evading her squeezing knees, prodding them open. "Wide. That's it."


She was already so wrought up that she shook when he touched her clit. He held his tongue there for a motionless moment, pressing her knees open with gentle insistance. She'd meant to remain sitting up, but her body moved on its own; she fell back, hips surging, rubbing herself against his mouth. She came hard, and Spike laughed into her open flesh, merciless, teasing her up again even as she writhed and gasped. Her hands dug into his scalp, and she rode up against his face, frantic, her own head thrown back. She heard herself moaning, heard the headboard clack against the wall over and over.


He was still with her when she'd spent three times, his ministrations languid now, his mouth covering her throbbing clit, letting her recover.


She got up on her elbows, with a feeling that this was where she'd come in. "You're too far away now. Come here."


He crawled up to meet her. Catching his face in her hands, she kissed his slimey mouth, tasting herself, sucking his tongue. His cock prodded her belly, then slipped inside, entering big and slow and heavy as he seated himself in the saddle of her thighs.


"That's good," she said, whispering into his mouth.


"Yeah it is. Like being on you like this, like it more when your sweet legs go round me like this." He lifted one knee up over his arm, up to his shoulder. He bounced gently, slow and teasing, filling her up. "Sweet girl."


"Your sweet girl."


"Are you?"


"Yes. I'm your girl now."


"Now that you're gettin' seen to? Or now an' later an' tomorrow?"


She could see that he wished he'd held his tongue, that the question embarrassed him.


"Now and later and tomorrow, and not a secret. Not to Dawn, or to ... anyone."


"They'll believe I turned you no matter what we say."


"Spike, I don't care." Maybe I wish you had. She hugged him tighter, her hands star-fished on the sharp bones of his back. "You helped me make the best of it, and that's ... that's all I care about."