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If I Hurt You, Will You Still Love Me? by slaymesoftly
 
Part IV
 
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(This chapter hasn't been seen by any eyes but mine yet, and I keep finding typos. So, if you see something, give me a shout, yeah?)




Part IV

When Buffy returned with several days’ supply of blood, she found the couch empty and the sound of running water coming from upstairs. Growling to herself about “stupid vampires” and “macho males”, she quickly shoved the blood into the refrigerator and ran up the stairs, pausing outside the bathroom door and biting her lip for a second.

Eventually, she knocked, waiting for Spike’s “I’m naked. Don’t come in if you’re not the Slayer,” before pushing the door open to glare at him.

“Which part of ‘don’t move off the couch until I get home’ confused you?” she said, running her eyes quickly over his body and wincing at the multi-colored bruises covering his rib cage and stomach. “You might have fallen and re-broken something,” she scolded to cover her own dismay at more visible evidence of what she’d done to him.

He had no trouble recognizing the feigned anger for what it really was and he responded gently. “I’m fine, Slayer. Between Glinda’s magic potions and your blood, I’m much better than I look. Those are just left over bruises. The bones have knit already and nothing hurt so bad that I couldn’t get myself up the stairs and out of those bloody clothes.” He gestured to the blood-encrusted jeans and tee shirt on the floor and ducked back behind the curtain to continue his shower.

With an exasperated huff that sounded more like her mother than Buffy might have liked, she bent down and picked the dirty clothing up, throwing it in a basket with the shirts that she’d rinsed out the night before.

“As soon as you’re finished with the hot water, I’ll throw all this stuff in the washer and see if I can make them wearable again.” She stood in the doorway, not sure what she wanted to do or say next, finally settling on, “I’ll get you some towels and something to wear,” before closing the door behind her and searching through her closet for an old pair of sweats that Riley had left behind. Without knocking this time, she opened the bathroom door and walked in to find that Spike had just turned off the water and was preparing to step out of the tub.

“Here,” she said quickly, turning her eyes away from the way the water droplets emphasized his chiseled body. Her heart rate went up, as did her body temperature, and she cursed the effect he always had on her. A flickered glance at his face told her that he’d picked up on her reaction to his naked body, and she watched in disbelief as he began to swell in response.

“You’re incorrigible,” she muttered, handing him a large towel and avoiding his laughing eyes. “Dry off and get some pants on.”

“’s your fault,” he pouted. “I can’t help it if my tight little body makes you smell…interesting.”

“You’re a pig, Spike,” she said automatically. “Get dressed. I’m going to get these disgusting clothes washed.”

She turned her back on his laughing “Oink, oink, Slayer” and took the basket of blood-covered clothes downstairs. With a wicked grin, she put them all into the same load and added enough bleach to take the remaining blood stains out of her white blouse.

“Let’s see how he likes walking out of here wearing pink and gray,” she giggled as she pushed the buttons on the machine and heard it begin to fill.

When she got back upstairs, she found a very sulky vampire sitting bare-chested on the couch and flicking through the TV channels. He gave her a lethal glare and then turned his attention back to the screen.

“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, hands on hips, all promises to be more patient with him forgotten.

In answer, he stood up and clutched with one hand the much too large sweat pants that Buffy belatedly realized probably still smelled somewhat like Riley. He let go of the waistband and let them begin to slide down his narrow hips, only grabbing them again at the last second before they could slide off his ass and onto the floor.

This is all you could find?”

“Well, it’s not like there have ever been any men living in this house, you know,” she snapped back. “You’re just lucky that Riley changed his clothes here a couple of times and left those behind.”

“Oh,” his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Lucky me. I get to spend the day wearin’ a reminder that one of your exes got naked here.”

Buffy’s fists clenched, but before she could explode at his petty jealousy, she remembered how she’d responded to his praise of Tara. I don’t suppose I’d be too thrilled if he asked me to wear one of Dru’s old dresses., she sighed mentally. Taking a deep breath and deliberately calming herself, she took a different tack. She ran her eyes from his still colorful chest, down his flat stomach and allowed them to linger just above the waistband where she could see a line of soft hair leading into the baggy pants. She licked her lips and obviously ogled his body as she purred, “Doesn’t really remind me much of him. They look a whole lot better on you…”

With one of his mercurial changes of mood, he responded immediately to her overt flirting with his own suggestion.

“Would look even better off me, pet,” he said with a sly grin, allowing them to slip even more. “Wanna see?”

Remembering how she had reacted to the sight of his naked body already, she gulped and pointed around the room. “Windows? Door? Unlocked back door? Daylight? Dawn? Willow? Really not a good idea!”

“Drapes are drawn,” he drawled. “Nibblet’s at school, Red is gone for the day, doors have locks…” He grinned at her and let go of the pants. They slid down a few more inches, then stopped, snagged by the firm object sticking out in the front of them. Buffy’s giggle at the way his own body had spoiled his dramatic gesture brought a laughing growl from the vampire as he impatiently pushed the pants off the protuberance and let them fall to his feet. He stepped out of them and smiled as Buffy moved closer in spite of herself.

“You’re injured,” she whispered, running her hands lightly over his discolored chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not gonna happen, love. I told you, the bones are already knit. Anyway, I like a bit of pain with my pleasure, you know that.”

He dipped his head to kiss her and she had to admit that his mouth felt just as it always had. If his still slightly swollen lip made kissing painful, there was no sign of it as he reminded her why he had been so easily able to take her away from the sadness and responsibilities of her life. With a little moan, she surrendered to the sensations he was creating, pressing against him and trapping his cock between their bodies.

It wasn’t until his hands had unfastened her jeans and were pushing them off her hips that she remembered where they were. She forced herself to break the kiss and pull away from him, making sure to slide one hand down his arm to grasp his hand reassuringly. Giving a little tug, she turned toward the stairs saying, “Why don’t we take this somewhere more comfortable…and private?”

“Right behind you, love,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck as he urged her toward the staircase.

Buffy watched surreptitiously as he climbed to the second floor, but saw no sign that he was lying about being fairly well healed. His stride was fluid and strong as he took the stairs two at a time, passing her and waiting impatiently at the top.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’, Slayer,” he growled, pulling her against his naked body. “I told you I’m fine, and I meant it. Quit worrying about hurting me.”

“As if!” she sniffed, pulling away and marching past him into her bedroom.

As if I’m not going to remember hurting you like this for the rest of my life.

“Hey.” His voice came from right behind her and she jumped in spite of herself. “What’s wrong? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to…”

“That’s not it,” she said, turning around and sliding her arms around his waist. She rested her head on his chest for a second, then stepped back. “I just don’t like feeling guilty, and I think I’m going to be feeling that way for a long time.”

“Buffy,” he started, determined to get her to see that he wasn’t angry at her. “I don’t—“ He stopped and thought a minute, then broke out into a grin. He nodded and said, “You’re right, Slayer. You were a very bad girl and I think you need to make it up to me. You can start now.”

He walked to the bed, turned around and dropped onto the mattress, bouncing a little before lying back and spreading his arms.

“Let’s have it, Slayer. Start making it up to me.”

She glared for a minute, then laughed and joined him on the bed.

“Make it up to you, huh? I guess I could start by kissing it all better.”

True to her word, she began to kiss every bruise and cut she could find, covering his face with soft, open-mouth kisses, and working her way down his torso, stopping to kiss and lick every discolored or scraped spot she could find. When she began licking his ribs, Spike couldn’t contain himself anymore and he doubled over, laughing as she deliberately tickled him with her tongue.

“Cut that out, Slayer! You’re supposed to be making me feel better – not taking advantage of my affliction.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish,” she said, nibbling on the taut skin over his abdomen. She ignored his laughing snarls and threats to rip her head off her shoulders, continuing to nibble and lick her way around his body, making sure that she hit every ticklish spot that she could find. When he was giggling uncontrollably between snarls, he finally grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her up in the air. He held her there, at arm’s length so that she couldn’t reach his ribs with her hands, and tried to regain his dignity.

When he pulled her down to snuggle against him, he kept a careful hand on each arm until her relaxed posture told him that she was through tormenting him.

“You are an evil woman,” he growled softly, brushing his lips over hers and nipping at the tongue she stuck out at him.

“And you are a pathetic excuse for a vampire. Who ever heard of a ticklish demon?”

“How many vampires have you taken the time to tickle before you staked them?” he countered. “There might be hundreds of us, you just never took the time to find out.”

“No,” she said softly, reaching up to take his lower lip in her teeth. “I pretty much think you’re one of a kind…”

“’bout bloody time you noticed that,” he murmured back.

“I noticed it a long time ago,” she admitted. “It’s just taken me awhile to appreciate it.”

“Speaking of appreciating – weren’t you supposed to be making it up to me for your little fit of temper?”

He slid her shirt off her shoulders and pushed on her still-unfastened jeans until she kicked them off. Then he leaned back and once again spread his arms out, smiling expectantly. Buffy gave him a short glare, then nodded and smirked.

“You’re right. I am. I think the first thing I need to do is cover you up and make you comfy in my bed. Then I’ll bring you some more blood, warmed just the way you like it, and then I’ll….”

She broke off in a burst of giggles when the disappointed vampire sat up and threatened to eviscerate her on the spot.

“I don’t think you’re really sorry, Slayer,” he grumbled, falling back onto the pillow and shutting his eyes; thereby missing completely the devastated expression on her face. When she didn’t respond, except to begin to edge her way off the bed, he opened one eye, realizing as he did so that he could smell tears.

“Bloody hell, love…Buffy…please, pet. Come here, I didn’t mean that. Don’t, love….shhhh…no, sweetheart…I never meant…” He pulled her back onto the bed with him and began crooning to her while he held her tense body against his and cursed himself for a fool. “I’m a git – the worst wanker that ever walked. I’m sorry, love. Please, sweetheart, don’t cry. Never meant to make you cry…”

With a shudder, she gained control of herself and sat up, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I AM sorry. I just don’t know how to make you believe me…”

“I believe you! Was just being a git and makin’ a joke that wasn’t funny. Couldn’t not believe you, love; not with all the care I’m getting - sharing your blood, washing my clothes, fussing over my worthless body like you have. Not to mention, hearing you tell me you’re sorry – words I never expected to hear from your cute little mouth. Can’t stand your tears, Buffy; and I don’t ever want to be responsible for them.”

“Then don’t ever let me do anything like that to you again,” she said firmly. “Promise me?”

“I promise, sweetheart. If you ever go off on me like that again, I promise you will meet the old me. Just remember, you asked for it.”

“The old you, huh?” she said, blinking innocently. “That would be the one I foiled every step of the way?”

“That, Slayer,” he growled, pulling her down and pinning her to the bed, “would be the one that would have had his third slayer if Joyce hadn’t brained me with that axe. You remember him? The one that had you down?”

“He’s got me down now,” she whispered, “and yet, funnily enough, I don’t feel afraid…”

He shook his head. “Killin’ you is the last thing on my mind just now.”

His hips pressed her down into the mattress while he dropped his head to meet her eager lips. Buffy’s legs came up around his waist, and her arms went around his back, holding him to her and forgetting completely about his sore ribs. He slid into her, smiling at her happy moan and breaking the kiss to whisper into her ear.

Rather than shutting him up, as had been her custom, she basked in the flowery endearments that flowed so easily from his mouth. For the first time, she found herself wishing she wasn’t so inhibited about expressing herself when it came to love and lovemaking.

“Oh, oh, Spike!” just really doesn’t cut it compared to “My perfect love, my gorgeous girl, my precious…..” Oh, god. Oh, yes, Spike, like that…nobody can make my body sing like you--

With a gasp, she realized that the words she wished she could say were actually there, she just wasn’t allowing them out of her mouth. Taking a deep breath for courage, she whispered, “I love it when you do that. When you talk to me and tell me how much you love me.”

He froze for a second, raising his head to blink at her. “You do? Since when? This is about the time that you usually tell me to ‘shut up, Spike’.”

“I…I know. But I don’t want to be that girl anymore. The one who throws your love back at you. And, besides…” She stared up at him anxiously. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” While they talked, his hips were continuing a slow, steady motion that was causing them both to breath a little faster even while they struggled to have a conversation.

“I don’t say…things…because I can’t. I’m just not good with the words like you are. And, I’m too…too…”

“Too afraid to be vulnerable?”

“I was going to say ‘inhibited,’ but, I guess that’s true, too. If I say that I like what you do to me, or that I … it makes it true.”

“Is that such a bad thing, love? Already know you like the things I can do to you, don’t I? Your body says what your lips won’t – it tells me that you like them. And when it’s really talking to me…” He paused and dipped his head to kiss her again, waiting until her arms tightened around him before he pulled his lips away and whispered, “when it’s really talking to me, it tells me that you love me.”

“Stupid secret-telling body,” she muttered, arching into him and grabbing the flesh on his neck with her teeth. She sucked on the skin over his throat, losing herself in the building sensations in her lower body to such an extent that she barely noticed the growls coming from the suddenly frantic vampire. Her cry of release was muffled in his neck as she trembled and shook under him.

With a snarled “Buffy!” he found his own release, his hips still moving long after he was spent as he struggled to control his demon. Buffy slowly became aware of the difference in his voice and opened her eyes to see amber pupils staring down at her. Unafraid and clearly able to see the warmth and love behind the demon’s mien, she smiled at him and stroked his wrinkled forehead.

“Hi there,” she whispered, running a finger down his cheek and touching an exposed fang.

“I’m sorry, love,” he tried to move away, ducking his head and turning it to the side.

“It’s okay. If my body can tell you secrets, I guess it’s okay if yours does.”

“Not that much of a secret, is it? That I’m a monster?”

“This monster loves me.” She spoke firmly, turning his face back to meet her gaze.

“That he does, Slayer. Loves you with all he has and is.” He shook himself back to his handsome human features and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Doesn’t mean you should have to be reminded of it at such a vulnerable moment.”

“I know what brought him out,” she said, nuzzling the mark she’d made on his neck. “I didn’t do it on purpose, but I know why you changed. If I was another vamp, I would have drawn blood, wouldn’t I?”

“Probably would have, pet.” He rolled off, ignoring her small whimper of protest and quickly pulling her with him so that he was holding her tightly against his body. She slid one leg over his thigh and snuggled into his side.

“And it made you want to bite me,” she continued the conversation, kissing his chest when she felt him stiffen against her. “It’s okay. I don’t mind that you wanted to.” She looked up at him with a stern face, but her eyes twinkled. “Of course, if you actually did it….”

He chuckled, his chest vibrating under her as he replied, “Not feelin’ all that suicidal right now, love. Not even the demon is stupid enough to bite the Slayer – or the woman he loves.”

“Just so we’re clear – those are the same person, right?”

“You know,” he said, squeezing her tightly,” for a beautiful, strong, amazing woman, you are one bloody insecure bint. You know that?”

“I know,” she sighed. “I’m working on it. You know, when all the men that you’ve tried to please end up leaving you, it’s hard to believe that the one you’ve never been very nice to is going to stay…”

“The problem was never you, love. It was your taste in men. Which has improved tremendously, I might add.”

Buffy giggled and ran her hand down his torso. “I was including Giles and my dad in that group, you know.”

“My comment still stands. Wankers, all of them.” He turned so as to be facing her and gazed at her earnestly. “I will never leave you, Buffy. Even if you kick me to the curb someday, you’ll have my heart. Never doubt it. I’m yours forever.”

“Forever works for me,” she whispered. “I can do forever.”

Or as close to forever as a slayer gets – which could be next week.

The End
 
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