Chapter Four

The walk back to Buffy’s apartment building went much faster than her stroll to the park had, even with the now handholding couple stopping occasionally to admire a particularly pretty sight. Spike advised her to take her time enjoying the snow, as he was fairly sure it would all be gone by the morning.

“It’s really too warm here most of the time for decent snow,” he grumbled. “Not like it was in my day, when we had ice-covered ponds to skate on and…”

Buffy’s giggles interrupted him. “You know you sound like an old man, don’t you?” she snickered. “…in my day…”

“Was my day. love. No sense in pretending it wasn’t.”

Before she could decide if she wanted to continue to tease him about his age, they were at the entrance to her building and looking up at the main door. Buffy turned to face him, tugging gently.

“Come on,” she said. “My feet are freezing.”

“Right. Up you go then.” He followed her into the lobby, nodding his head at the concierge who was watching with wide eyes as his American tenant led Santa Claus into a waiting elevator.

“Merry Christmas!” Buffy caroled, waving as the doors closed.

When she turned back to Spike, it was to find that he had pulled the beard and mustache off and dropped them to the floor. Without speaking, he pulled her into his padded chest and stomach and continued the kiss that her giggles had interrupted earlier. With no distracting hair in her mouth, Buffy was able to lose herself in the lips that she’d wondered if she would ever know again. Eager lips and tongues battled to devour the other’s familiar and yet so long denied taste.

Frustration over not being able to get around the padded belly of the Santa Suit finally overcame their enjoyment of the kiss and they broke it off to stare at each other with matching grins on their faces. The instant the doors opened, Buffy darted out, glancing back in surprise when the vampire wasn’t at her side. Instead, he had stooped to pick up the discarded facial hair from the floor of the elevator. Buffy raised astonished eyebrows at him.

“What? I have to return this stuff – all of it.”

Shaking her head, she turned towards her door mumbling, “William the bloody is afraid of a costume shop manager…”

“I had to leave a deposit,” he offered in weak defense.

“Says the vampire who must have spent well over a thousand dollars on Christmas presents for me!”

She inserted her key in the lock and opened the door, turning to look over her shoulder.

“Come in, Spike,” she said, her voice suddenly husky with need.

As soon as he had entered and the door was closed and locked, Buffy put her hands on the buckle of the large black belt surrounding his ample middle. With single-minded determination, she began unbuckling and unbuttoning the big suit, pushing aside the thick padding, until she had burrowed her way down to the muscular chest and flat stomach that haunted her dreams. With a happy sigh, she paused and rested her hands against his pale skin.

While Buffy had been working out how to get Spike out of the heavy layers of red flannel, his own hands had been occupied unzipping her coat and shoving it off her shoulders to hang on her upper arms.

“Do you know how this coat would look really amazing, pet?” he asked, gasping when she slid her hands around his back and pressed her face against his bare chest.

“Mmmph?” she replied, kissing every bit of bare skin that she could reach. With the pants to the suit still on, Spike still had a fairly substantial amount of padding between his lower body and the woman currently licking his hardened nipples, and he groaned at his inability to feel her body against his.

He leaned towards her, whispering into her ear and causing her to shiver, “Just the way it is now, but with you naked inside it. That’s how I pictured you when I picked it out…”

The idea of lying naked on the soft coat while the crooning vampire admired her body was all it took to have moisture pooling between Buffy’s legs. With a wicked grin, she backed away from him and dropped the coat to the floor. While he watched in gleeful appreciation, she pulled her sweater over her head, giving him a good look at the taut skin of her stomach and the expensive scraps of lace barely covering her breasts.

Shaking her finger at him when he reached a hand towards her chest, she backed up another step and unfastened her wool slacks, allowing them to drop to her feet, covering her boots and leaving her standing in a pool of black fabric and matching bra and panties.

Steady growls were coming from the vampire as he forced himself to stand by while she unfastened the bra and tossed it over her shoulder. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and began to slide them down her legs, dropping her head so as to be able to see what she was doing when she got to her feet and slid everything, including her boots, completely off. Before she stood up, she turned around, allowing Spike a good view of her firm rear while she picked up the discarded coat and draped it around her neck and shoulders. The fur from the hood nestled next to the back of her neck, the coat itself was hanging from her elbows leaving her bare shoulders and body fully exposed.

“Was this what you had in mind?” She posed, blushing in spite of herself at the ravenous look on his face.

“You’re a bloody vision,” he managed to gasp. Without waiting for a response, he picked her up and laid her gently on the nearby dining room table. Stepping back, he shrugged out of the top part of his Santa suit, pausing to admire the view before him, then leaning in and placing her legs over his bare shoulders. He smiled when he saw her shudder with anticipation, running his mouth down one inner thigh, across her neatly-trimmed mound, and up the other thigh to her knee. He sucked briefly on the soft skin behind her knee, then dropped his head to the place he’d never thought to be again.

At the first touch of his tongue, she arched into his mouth, her cry of “Spike!” giving him all the proof he needed of her joy in having him back. He kissed and licked, plunging his tongue in and out of her until she was whimpering with need and pushing her hips off the table in an attempt to get closer to his mouth. Giving in to her unspoken pleas, he fastened his mouth on her swollen nub and began to suck. Within seconds, she was crying out and clenching his head between powerful thighs.

He raised his head to look at her, the Santa hat somewhat askew, but still perched upon his head. The proud grin on his face faded as he saw the tears running down her cheeks.

“Buffy? Love?” Uncertainty colored his voice and shook her out of her post-orgasm emotion.

“Come here,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears.

Trying to obey as best he could while still wearing the bottom half of the padded suit, he got onto the table and moved up her body until he was close enough to put his forehead against hers. They remained like that for long minutes, the vampire holding himself up on his arms while his head dipped to stay in contact with hers.

“I love you, Spike,” she said, her voice still an emotion-choked whisper.

“Love you so much, Buffy,” he rumbled. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed those little sounds you make when you come for me.”

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed making them,” she managed to say with a shaky grin. “Don’t you ever leave me again.”

With a relieved laugh, he dropped down beside her, catching himself before he rolled off the table. He kept one arm across her stomach as he dropped kisses on her bare shoulders. She turned to face him, smiling as her hands went to the suspenders that were holding up the pants.

“I think I want the rest of my prezzie,” she purred, sliding the suspenders off his arms and pushing on the waistband of the suit. “How do I unwrap it?”

Spike was busy kicking off his boots while Buffy’s hands pushed the loose pants down until she could see his swollen cock lying tightly against his abdomen.

“Ah, there it is!” she giggled, wrapping her fingers around it and smiling at the way he pushed into her hand.

“I think you’re doin’ fine, pet,” he groaned, struggling to kick the pants the rest of the way off without interrupting her squeezing and stroking. “Think you’ve pretty much got me as unwrapped as it gets.”

Finally free of the heavy pants and boots, he sighed with relief and relaxed into the welcome sensations being created by Buffy’s hand. His low growls and occasional gasps of surprise accompanied her stream-of conscious commentary.

“Which feels best, I wonder?” she murmured, switching from stroking him the way she knew he liked, to squeezing him until he groaned. “When I do this?” She pulled hard on his cock until she could see the precum oozing from the tip. “Or when I do this?” She squeezed him with both hands, smiling when he snarled and his hips came off the table. “Or, could it be when I do this?” With a wicked gleam in her eye, she ducked her head and licked the under side of his cock while she cupped his balls and rolled them gently in her hand.

His incoherent muttering came to a halt when she put her mouth around him and began sucking. He allowed himself to enjoy the sensations for a few minutes, but quickly realized that he had been deprived for too long not to succumb to the pressure building in his balls. With a whimper, he touched her head and urged her to look up at him.

“It’s gonna be over too quickly, if you keep that up, sweetheart,” he gasped. “Not sayin’ don’t ever do it, but I want to be in you the first time…”

She nodded her understanding and agreement and within seconds, he was poised above her, the white tip of his Santa hat still bobbing above his head as he gently touched his cock to her entrance. He slid it up and down, spreading the moisture he found there and teasing them both until she impatiently wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him down onto her body.

“Now,” she gasped. “I want you inside me now.”

“Bossy little bint,” he muttered, doing as she asked.

“You know you love it.”

“I do,” he agreed as he sank into her warmth and lost himself in the sheer pleasure of feeling her surrounding him again.

Matching sighs of completion and relief marked their responses to his complete penetration.

“I missed you,” she whispered, squeezing him until he gasped and trembled within her. “Missed you so much…missed this.”

“Never stopped missing you. Buffy. Never stopped lovin’ you. Not for one second.” His hips began to rock against hers as he continued to murmur in her ear. “Never want to leave here – want to be in you forever.”

“I might have to check my calendar,” she gasped, “but, I’m pretty sure ‘forever’ works for me.”

The ability to speak coherently having abandoned them both, their bodies took over and began to move against each other, their motions becoming more urgent and more powerful as they built towards the inevitable conclusion. With another wailing “Spike!”, she shattered around him, clenching him tightly with her arms and legs. As soon as he felt her shuddering against him, he thrust himself into her so hard that his roar of release was lost in the sound of the table breaking under the combined force of two supernaturally strong people.

There was no sound at first, except their ragged breathing as they struggled to recover from the strenuous reunion. When Buffy’s breathing was approaching normal, she relaxed the death grip that she had on his body and rolled her eyes to one side.

“We broke my table.”

“Was worth it. I’ll buy you a new one – a stronger one,” he mumbled in her ear, nuzzling her neck as he did so.

“We messed up my new coat, too.” Her voice contained more of a complaint. “It’s all full of Buffy juice and Spike stuff.”

“It’s washable,” he chuckled. “And if it wasn’t, I’d buy you two or three more – just we could make love on it again.”

“Or,” she said, reluctantly allowing him to shift his weight off her body, “we could take this to my bed which has way fewer pointy wooden objects for me to worry about you rolling onto.”

He glanced around at the broken pieces of her table and nodded.

“Got to agree with that, pet. Your bed it is.”

He followed her example and rose gracefully to his feet, preparing to follow her into the bedroom. The Santa hat was somehow still perched on his head, and he started to remove it. Buffy’s hand on his stopped him.

“Keep the hat, Santa,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “You owe me a whole lot more prezzies. Six years’ worth of them, by my calculations.”

“You know the real Santa’s half-demon, don’t you, Slayer?” he muttered, following her down the hall. “Are you sure you want to pretend that’s who you’re shagging?”

She stopped and turned to face him, suddenly serious.

“I’m not planning to pretend you’re anybody but who you are,” she said. “I’ve done all the pretending I want to in the last few years. I want the real thing in my bed – the man I love.”

“The man who loves you,” he corrected gently, pulling her into a loose embrace. “Don’t need a Santa hat for that, pet. It’s as true now as it’s ever been. More, maybe.”

“Are we going to fight about this?” she grumbled. “Who loves who the most?’

“Bloody hell, I hope so!” His eyes glazed over, remembering how many of their arguments and fights years ago had ended in violent, spectacular sex. “But not tonight,” he amended when he saw her face. He stroked her hair with his free hand and pulled her closer to his naked body. “Not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” she echoed, giving a little squeal of approval when he swept her up and began striding towards the bedroom. “Tonight it’s Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Buffy.” He sank down onto her bed, still holding her in his arms. “I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, Spike. I love you, too.”

The End…Christmas Schmoop for all