full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
 
Running from the Inevitable by The Enemy of Reality
 
Chapter sixteen
 
<<     >>
 
A/N: Uni is kicking my ass, hence the later-than-usual update. My brain feels like a wrung out sponge. *SIGH*

Lovely betas: All4Spike and BloodyHell.

 

Chapter 16


Buffy’s fingers twitched around the towels that would soon be caressing the smooth expanse of Spike’s back. The fact his skin was covered in slashes should be enough to divert her thoughts to a less lusty variety and away from those eyes and lips and the… other stuff. The stuff she most certainly hadn’t even glimpsed.


“Come on, pet. I won’t bite.”


She hated the cute little nicknames he used. She really did. Especially because they made her stomach flutter like mad.


Only when she was few inches away from the mattress did her brain finally catch up on the room’s furnishings. Or lack of them, in this case.


“Spike?”


“Yeah?” he purred into the pillow.


“Why is there only one bed in this room?”


He gazed at her, all apologetic smile and sincere gaze. Like it would keep her from getting pissed? He wished, the sneaky vampire.


“I only have so much cash on me and we’ll need it to get to Sunnyhell, won’t we? Especially since you won’t let me steal. This room came cheaper. That’s it. No ulterior motive.”


“B-but… one bed!” Her cheeks turned red at the mere thought of sleeping in the same bed as Spike. Separated by nothing but the sheer will of distancing herself from his glorious nakedness and magnetic lips.


“What? Worried you won’t be able to keep your mitts to yourself?”


That was outrageous. And completely true if she was being honest with herself. Just that knowledge alone, and the thought of Spike finding out just how inept she was when it came to matters of sex, scared her witless.


He would laugh. And that would hurt more than anything.


“You know what? You can take care of your back yourself!” She was about to storm off and sulk about his ability to make her uncomfortable when he rolled onto his side and grasped her wrist.


“Wait, Buffy. I didn’t mean to upset you. You know my mouth has tendency to run ahead of my brain.” He let her go when she stopped struggling to get away and looked at her earnestly. “This bed is big enough for both of us and I’ll keep to my side. But if you really want me to, I’ll sleep on the floor.”


How could she act all bratty if he was suddenly the voice of reason and gentlemanly behaviour? Her shoulders slumped.


“No. It’s fine. Sorry I spazzed out. It’s been a long day.”


“That it has.” He fell back on his belly, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. “Will you do my back, please? I’ll massage your feet later. Quid pro quo and all that.”


She had no idea what that last sentence meant but a foot massage sounded heavenly.


“Deal… I guess.”


Spike chuckled and closed his eyes as she climbed on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.


She then proceeded to gently clean the skin around the slashes with the damp towel. It was difficult to reach over to clean the dried trickled blood on the other side of his ribs without toppling on top of him so Buffy did the most practical thing she could think of.


She straddled his thighs.


“Is this okay?”


“Yeah,” he drawled in a low, content voice.


Her hands hovered just above his bare buttocks and she had to swallow down the urge to squeeze the tight muscles. Instead she pressed the towel against his back and resumed the task that was less grope-y Buffy.


Still, she couldn’t help but brush the velvet of his skin with her fingertips every now and then.


“I’m not hurting you, am I?”


“No, love. You’d make a mighty good nurse. All you need is a tight little uniform.”


She smiled despite herself. “Pig.”


“Always,” he replied with a grin.


Buffy had to admit that sitting astride Spike was quite a comfortable place to be. After she cleaned the blood off, she was reluctant to leave her position so she idly traced his skin with the second towel. Just because it was clean, and it would be better to be sure there were no blood traces left. That was all.


Spike groaned and slightly wriggled under her, which she took as a sign of impatience. Now she felt guilty for prolonging the moment.


“I’m done. You’re all squeaky clean now.”


Spike said something, but his voice was muffled by the pillow. Considering he probably said something inappropriate that would make her flee to the bathroom with her cheeks flaming, she was better off not knowing.


She tossed the towels to the floor then pressed her hands in the dip of his lower back to keep her balance as she rose to her knees. And if the heels of her hands grazed the top of his buttocks? Well, that was just a coincidence. Nothing more.


With a sigh, Buffy fell on the mattress next to him. “You owe me a massage.”


Spike turned his face to look at her with heavy lidded eyes. “Just give me a sec here and I’ll be right at your disposal.”


Oh boy did she like that idea. A lot.


She pouted. “But I want it now.”


Spike squeezed his eyes shut for second to seemingly regain control. Of what, she wasn’t sure.


“You’re making it very hard for me. Literally.”


“Huh?”


A brief chuckle whooshed past his lips as he levelled her with a gaze that left her squirming.


“Buffy, you just had your hot little hands all over my body, bloody straddling me no less. A man can’t help but react.”


Oh.


Oh!


“W-well… I didn’t mean to! And it’s not like I actually touched you anywhere… you know… exciting.”


Spike smirked. “Gonna grab me a robe. You better close those peepers of yours unless you want to get an eyeful.”


So what? Maybe she did. She was eighteen and curiosity was an unfortunate side effect of her hormones. And she had never seen an excited man up close and personal.


Still when Spike rose, she let out a cowardly squeak and closed her eyes. Not before she caught the barest of glimpses though. The sight was so totally unimpressive she wanted to yawn. Or so she told herself as she tried to slow down her breath and pressed her heated cheeks against the cool sheets in order to calm down.


Does he have a license for that thing?


She jerked slightly when she felt the mattress depress few moments later.


“Now about that massage,” Spike said teasingly.


Buffy opened her eyes to see Spike wear a robe identical to her own plus a wicked grin on his face. Obviously, he felt very smug about his ability to fluster her. She’d show him flustered!


Not exactly confident in her feminine wiles, Buffy tried it on for size as she rolled on her back. Arching her back to stick her breasts out, she stretched her arms above her head and lifted one dainty foot before resting it on Spike’s thigh. From the glazed look on his face, it seemed as though she wasn’t completely useless.


He shook himself out of his stupor and slowly caressed her ankle. As soon as his fingertips brushed her skin, she drew in a sharp breath. Now she wasn’t so sure who would be teasing whom and if she wouldn’t be the one to end up utterly frustrated.


With professional intent, Spike skillfully wrapped his fingers around her foot and massaged out the ache. Being ticklish, she half expected to burst out laughing as soon as he touched her but found herself melting under his ministrations instead. She could feel the stress of walking for hours slipping away with every stroke.


Her eyes never left his face and she could feel a strange kind of intensity building around them as he returned her gaze. He switched her foot for the other, repeating the same motions that left her mellow and sighing in contented bliss.


“How come you’re so good at this?” she whispered, unwilling to break the spell around them.


Spike shrugged. “Not many things I’m not good at.”


“Cocky.”


“Experienced,” he countered and pressed some spot that shot electricity right into her core.


She bit her lip, letting the feelings wash over her.


Spike’s fingers unhurriedly shifted higher as he kneaded her calf, his knuckles grazing the back of her knee. Good thing she had the sense to shave her legs in the shower.


He looked at her, asking for permission. “Is this fine?”


She nodded, unsure if her voice would work at the moment.


Spike dropped his gaze but she could feel his eyes burn with desire as he caressed her skin almost lovingly. She would never have thought him to be capable of such tenderness. Not before. But the way he touched her, seemingly taking as much pleasure in it as she did, she couldn’t help but admit that nobody had ever made her feel so cherished. Cherished and incredibly turned on.


As she did a little hip shimmy to alleviate the tension, she was past caring that her robe had slipped down her thighs and she was without a doubt flashing Spike her panties.


His nostrils flared as he shifted his attention to her other leg.


Buffy moaned at his ministrations, succumbing to the mix of relaxation and arousal his capable hands had stirred up. Her fingers clenched and unclenched around the sheets when his massaging turned into caressing. She wanted him. Craved him. So when his hands spread her legs enough for him to settle between them, she didn’t object.


Instead she let him stroke her outer thighs and tightened her legs around his waist to pull him closer. Spike needed no further invitation and his eyes rolled up in their sockets when she pulled him down and ground her pelvis into his. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from her own, a whisper of his cool breath tickling her skin.


That was when someone knocked on the door.


Buffy’s eyes widened and she quickly released him and wriggled from under him. “Who is it?”


Spike stared at the door uncomprehendingly for a moment before he regained his senses. Oh yeah, now he remembered. Being the wanker that he was, he had ordered some Chinese.


“I ordered food while you were in the shower.”


Reluctantly, Spike climbed off the bed, grabbed a few bills and went to open the door. He could kick himself now, and especially the delivery boy who was standing there with a bored but polite look on his face as they exchanged the goods.


But the time Spike closed the door and turned on his heel, Buffy was sitting up and tugging the robe to cover her thighs. Apparently, whatever spell had woven around them had been broken and now she once again clung to her silly morals.


Bloody hell, all he wanted to do was dive right on top of her and taste her skin from head to toe, stopping in between to drink her in. She probably wouldn’t appreciate it.


“Oh, I love Chinese!” She grabbed the bag from his hands and pilfered through he contents with child like glee. “Thanks.”


Well, he could suffer a case of blue balls as long as Buffy was happy. Which she was, considering the smile on her face as she wolfed down the kung pao chicken.


“Mmm… Yummy.” She glanced up at him guiltily and offered him the box. “You want some?”


Spike sat on the bed opposite her and smiled. “You eat it. I’ll get some spring rolls.”


She wrinkled her nose and continued eating.


He’d have thought the whole thing had been conjured by his sleep deprived mind if it weren’t for Buffy’s red tinged cheeks and the smell of her arousal still lingering in the air.


His mouth watered and he shot her a heated glance before he bit into the roll, his tongue flicking out to lick a crumb off his upper lip.


Buffy let out a quiet whimper.


TBC
 

A/N: Be kind to me and review? Scientists said it lessens (my) stress level. ;)

 

 
<<     >>