“Why am I closing my eyes?”
“Can’t you just do what I ask for once, Slayer? Come on, what can it hurt?”
Buffy’s almost-shut eyes flew wide open and she stared at him, her mouth making small movements until she got her voice.
“I cannot believe you actually asked me that,” she said, shaking her head. “Vampire asks Slayer, who lives on a hellmouth, ‘What can it hurt’? if she shuts her eyes. Seriously?”
“Point, pet. But still... you know where we are, I’m only asking you to close your eyes for a few minutes while I....” He sighed. “It’s a surprise, love. For you. Just for the holiday. Indulge me, please?”
Her lower lip came out and she was preparing her refusal when she sniffed the air. “Do I smell chocolate?”
“Might. Won’t find out if you don’t shut those pretty eyes, though.” His voice dropped to the register she couldn’t resist as he coaxed her with a gentle hand over her eyelids.
“Oooookay.... but only for a—”
“Shush,” he murmured. “Just wait right here... and don’t peek.”
Buffy settled herself against the headboard of the bed, resolutely squeezing her eyes closed and using her other senses to try to figure out what Spike was doing. He was back quickly, the mattress dipping under his weight.
“Open your mouth, love,” he said, brushing his lips over hers. “Got something I want to put in it.”
“Oh, Spike, that’s just disgus—mmph!” Her lips closed around the chocolate covered strawberry he’d just placed in her mouth and she moaned in appreciation. Swallowing, she smiled her pleasure and opened her mouth again.
“Greedy little bint, aren’t you?” he said, popping another morsel in her mouth. “I like that in a woman.”
“You like anything in a woman,” she said, licking her lips and opening her mouth again.
“Not true, love.” He put another strawberry in her mouth, leaning in and licking a rivulet of warm chocolate off her lower lip. “I’m right choosy about my woman.” He rubbed another strawberry over her lips, pulling it away when she tried to bite it and substituting his own chocolate-coated tongue. She giggled and sucked the chocolate off, sidetracking them both until Spike accidentally got too close to the fondue pot holding the chocolate.
Buffy opened her eyes at his cry of pain, tensing and staring around the room. “What? What’s wrong? Do I have to kill it?”
“Nothing’s wrong, love. Just got too distracted for a bit there and burned my arse.” He glared at the offending pot before moving it back to its heater on a small table beside the bed.
“Poor baby,” she giggled. “If it was anywhere else, I’d offer to kiss it better, but....”
“’s alright, Slayer. Know you’re not going to kiss my arse, don’t I? Although, if you wanted to give it a sympathetic rub....”
Buffy reached around behind him to stroke his ass, distracting them both again for several minutes. Only when she accidentally ran her hand over the minor burn did he flinch and remind them of what they were supposed to be doing.
“I’ll live. Let’s finish up these strawberries, yeah?” He took another berry off the plate and dipped it in the chocolate before offering it to her. Buffy wrapped her lips around it, taking his fingertips into her mouth at the same time and sucking on them until he growled. She grinned and let him pull his fingers out with a loud pop.
Before he could follow up on the look in his eyes, she reached around him for another strawberry, dipped it and offered it to him. He took it from her, taking his time getting all the chocolate off her fingers. They finished up the strawberries taking turns feeding each other, their breathing getting faster with each berry.
“We’re out of strawberries,” Buffy whispered in his ear as she felt around behind him, trying to find one on the plate.
“But we’re not out of chocolate.”
“We’re not, are we? Whatever should we do with it?” Buffy’s eyes were hooded as she ran her hand down his bare chest and settled back against the pillows with a slow smile.
“Oh, I think you know what we’re going to with it, Slayer,” he purred, bringing the pot to the bed again. He dipped his finger into the warm chocolate and scooped out a big glob. “Question is, where am I gonna do it?”
Buffy and Spike lay sprawled on the bed, the empty chocolate pot sat, forgotten, on the floor beside them.
“I need a shower... or a bath... or something.”
“Why? Did I miss a spot?” There was no real curiosity in Spike’s voice, only a lazy satisfaction. He turned his head to look at her. “Gotta say, love, I think it’s a good look for you.”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re all sticky too, mister. What are we going to do about this, huh? I have to get home and help with Christmas dinner – to which you’ve been invited, remember?”
“Like I’d forget that,” he said, his voice and gaze suddenly alert and focused. “Still can’t believe you’re going to parade me in front of the Scoobies.”
“I’m just inviting you to dinner. It’s not like you aren’t there a lot anyway. Nobody will think it’s weird.”
“Oh.” His happy expression faded. “I reckon I ought to give you your gift now then?”
“This wasn’t it?” Buffy tried to tease him out of the obvious disappointment her words caused.
“You know it wasn’t. This was as much Happy Christmas to Spike as it was to Buffy.”
She rolled over on top of him, making a face as their two sticky bodies touched. “I think you should bring me a present on Christmas Day, just like everybody else.”
“Could cause a Scoobie meltdown,” he warned, even as his expression brightened.
“Got to happen sooner or later, doesn’t it? Might as well be Christmas when everyone’s in a good mood.”
“Good will toward men... er vampires.”
“Exactly!” She pulled away, wincing when her skin appeared to be stuck. “Be there at five.”
“With bells on, Slayer.”
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