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Strip Snap by Lilachigh
 
Chp 13 One Little Word
 
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Strip Snap by Lilachigh

Chp 13 One little word


He was back! The man she loved - even as she thought those words she banished them from her mind - Spike was back! He rolled over so she was underneath him. “Buffy! My God, Buffy!” he groaned.

Two bodies joined, the heat, the sweat, the cascading, pulsating sensation urging her upwards and onwards, Spike’s face above hers, roaring his pleasure as his climax hit him and his hips bucked and jerked, his cock growing bigger and bigger and sending her into a new frenzy.

As she returned to reality, she found the side of her face pressed against the carpet, Spike’s weight crushing her. But it felt so good. She was sorry about William. He’d been fun, but this was Spike, this was -

“That was very odd, Miss Summers. I felt - well, almost disembodied for a while.”

Buffy sat up and stared in dismay at the vampire whose head was pillowed on her thigh. There was no mistaking the soft blue gaze, the slight blurring of the features.William was back. “Spike - you were Spike again!” she whispered.

William frowned. He looked puzzled, but she realised that he hadn’t denied what she’d just said. “At that last - er - during my - er - ”

“Climax!” Buffy snapped.

“Thank you, I’m afraid my vocabulary for erotica is not as extensive as it perhaps should be - during my final climax, I had the distinct impression that I was two people. Very strange indeed.”

Wearily, Buffy scrambled to her feet. She knew he was right. Spike had been there, just for a few seconds. Just as she now knew he had been when they made love - no, she wouldn’t say that - when they had sex in the bathroom, earlier that evening.

Now William was back, looking at her with that tender expression that tore her heart in two and danced on the pieces. She didn’t want to get attached to this vampire; it was the other one she loved.

There was that word again! She turned without another word and limped upstairs, hoping that any noise they’d made hadn’t been heard by the rest of the household.
She needed to lie down quietly and try and get her thoughts in some sort of order. The love word kept flashing into her brain. Did she love him? It was such a huge emotion for such a little word to describe.

She’d loved Angel. Surely he had been and still was the love of her life. Not Spike. He’d been her direst enemy until he got chipped and even then -

Buffy threw herself across her bed and pillowed her head on her arms. She knew what usually happened when she tried to think about her feelings. She mentally ran away and hid. She brushed them all under the carpet and did a sort or Scarlett O’Hara act. Oh I’ll think about them tomorrow - tomorrow is another day.

She would do anything to avoid looking closely at how she felt about people. It was as if pretending that emotions didn’t exist, would somehow make hers go away. But it never happened, of course.

The patchwork quilt of her bedcover danced in front of her eyes. She ran her fingers lovingly over the shapes. Her Mom had made this. Buffy could remember her sitting with it spread over her knees in the evenings, sewing, exclaiming when the needle pricked her finger, laughing when some of the squares looked more like oblongs or triangles.

All the patches were from Buffy’s old clothes. Here was a piece of black velvet - that reminded her of Angel, a washed out, sad looking lemon with nasty orange flowers - Parker, a red, white and blue striped square - Riley. All gone. And holding them apart and yet linking them together, small bright blue diamonds, as blue as a certain vampire’s eyes.

She smiled suddenly. Her mother had liked Spike. For the first time Buffy lay there, fists tightly clenched, and faced up to the truth. Yes, she’d loved Angel when she was what - sixteen, seventeen. Lots of people fell in love at that age and it was always glorious, dreadful, heartbreakingly romantic. Plus a vampire, so, hey, added bite.

But now, she had to admit that love had gone. All that was left were the faded colours of what had been a rainbow of excitement. Some good memories, some terrible ones. And, at the end of the day, he’d left her.

Oh, he’d been full of very good reasons why he had to go, but none of them had rung true to her. If he’d loved her, truly loved her, he would have stayed, tried to find a way of making it work, delved into magics, dimensions, anything to find a way. Oh Angel had loved her, she was certain of that. But he’d loved the despair of forbidden love even more.

But Spike. She had fought against it, declared it impossible, ignored and rubbished her feelings. But now there was no denying it. When she wasn’t with him, she didn’t have the usual heartache that you felt when a boyfriend wasn’t around, no, she had a griping stomach ache, an emptiness that made her feel hollow and lonely and alone.

And when he was there - she found herself smiling. Heart, body and mind. All three were his. And as she admitted it, she felt an enormous peace flood through her. She had broken through a wall of denial that had caused her so much pain; now she was on the other side and the feeling of relief was marvellous.

Buffy sat up, rolled off the bed, smoothed the quilt straight and crossed to the window. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the eastern sky with pale apricot and lavender. Another beautiful day. But where did she go from here? Spike was trapped inside William’s body, that much seemed obvious. But how did she get him out? And what would happen to William if she did discover a way of doing so?

By eleven o’clock, she was no further forward in knowing what to do. Willow, Xander, Anya and Dawn were seated round the table in the Magic Box , piles of research books in front of them, trawling for anything that might help them reverse what the Tazkasha acid had caused.

William was supposed to be helping, but Buffy noticed he was reading very slowly, peering over the top of his volume at her, his eyes sparkling with pure devilment.

Their walk through the underground passages from Buffy’s basement to the shop had been uneventful - if you didn’t count the number of times William had wrapped his arms round her in the dark and forced her to stop so he could kiss her.

“We’ll be late,” she muttered at last, giving in without a struggle, revelling in the chill of his smooth skin against her breasts as he pushed her T-shirt up and snapped the fastener of her bra without loosing a beat of his tongue against hers.

‘Oh Miss Summers, I’m sure they’ll wait for us,” he murmured at last. “Whatever magic your friend Willow is going to do, she can’t start without me, now can she. And if I am going to disappear, then surely it’s only fair you let me do this - ” he bent his head and licked her nipples , the tip of his tongue finding the very sensitive tip of one, a rough finger rubbing the other until it stung, the pain lancing down to between her thighs.

Buffy could smell her own arousal, heard the guttural groans coming from her throat as she threw her head back against the rock wall of the dark passageway. How did he know how much she loved him doing that. Oh God, her legs were turning to jelly again. She clung to him.

“Please - please - ” she moaned feverishly, knowing she was out of control, but aware that she needed this time of release, that her whole life had been spent making decisions, being strong, being the one who took charge. Here in this dark tunnel, with this man, she could be a willing victim, the one who begged, the one who - William’s fingers thrust between her legs and she yelped in delight, then moaned again crossly as he took them away.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t linger, perhaps we should go to this shop you mentioned straight away, Miss Summers,” he whispered in her ear, listening to her panting, rejoicing in her wriggling in his arms, her desperate desire to rub her nipples against his chest.

“Nooo! Don’t you dare, William. I’ll kill you, I’ll, oh please, please, just - ”

“Say it! Tell me what you want”

“No. Just do it.”

“Tell me - ” A fingertip brushed her clit and she screamed against the soft skin of his neck. She felt him vamp out, then he was on his knees, his mouth, oh, god, his tongue was inside her, icy cold against the burning button that needed release. She clenched her hands in the blond curls and tried to press his face closer.

“Make love to me. Make me come. Oh please, make me come.”

She felt the smile on his mouth, then his hands were pushing her legs wide apart and his clever tongue began to lick harder, swifter, deeper and in the dark, all she was aware of was coming and coming, screaming silently into the still air.

Buffy looked up from the volume she was studying to find William grinning at her again. She scowled at him, stood up and walked across to a far shelf to return the book. He followed her, leaning across to reach down a heavy volume from the top shelf.

“Stop making faces at me!” she hissed.

“Why Miss Summers, are you ashamed of our actions?” William said mockingly. “What is there of which to be ashamed? I thought you and this - Spike - were lovers. As you and I are.”

“Well, yes, we are,” Buffy said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure none of the others could hear them. “But my friends - well, they wouldn’t understand. They don’t know - ”

“That you love Spike. That you love me?” William was frowning suddenly, the soft gentian blue eyes hardening into icy chips. “So you are ashamed of our actions - or is the truth that you are ashamed of me?”

“Yes - no, of course not - look, William, you can’t possibly understand. It’s very complicated.”

William leant back against the book shelves and looked at her, his face serious, all laughter gone. “Love is complicated? I thought it a very straight forward emotion, Miss Summers. You say you love Spike and yet you will not admit this to your friends and family. Is that true?”

“Well, yes, but you see - ”

The vampire stood upright and turned away from her. “Then I feel extremely sorry for this Spike,” he said quietly and with a few long strides, left her and returned to the others with his books.

“Xander, stop jiggling the table,” Anya demanded. “You’re making all the papers slide off this end. It’s all wibbly-wobbly.”

“Xander can never read without moving his feet,” Dawn commented dryly, turning a page and averting her eyes from the picture. She knew Buffy only let her do research if she stuck to the text.

“I get cramp in my toes,” Xander complained. “They may be manly and perfectly formed - and not hairy like some people’s I could mention but won’t! - but they still get cramp when they have to be inactive for hour upon hour.”

A couple of minutes silence followed, then, “Xander! The papers are still falling off the table!”

“It isn’t all me,” Xander said, his voice muffled from his head being upside down. “The legs of the table aren’t even. There’s a book stuck under one of them. Hang on a minute - there!”

With a thud, he appeared, scarlet faced, waving a small red leather covered book in the air. “Xander saves the day - again! No more wibble wobble - no more - ”

“Hey, listen to this!” Willow had taken the book from his hand and was reading the page it had fallen open at. “Buffy - William - everyone - listen. This is a very old book. One of the oldest I’ve ever seen here in the Magic Shop. I think this might be what we are looking for.”

Five pairs of eyes turned in her direction as she began to read…

“A demon’s fire changes all,
The old returns.
Love alone can break the thrall,
Passion burns.
Past and present merged must be,
By love, desire and need times three.“

There was a long silence. Willow looked up, biting her bottom lip, her brown eyes huge. “Buffy - I - I don’t know what else this can mean except that - ” she stopped.

“Oh, really,” Anya broke in brightly. “It’s quite clear. Buffy has got to make love to William. And want to. Three times!”



to be continued.





 
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