Title: OPEN MOUTH, INSERT FOOT (1/1) by Bonnie
Author: Bonnie
Email: bondav40@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Spike attempts to spend a platonic evening with Buffy
Disclaimer: Based on characters not created by me.
Buffy stood before her mirror combing out her shower-damp hair and staring listlessly at her reflection. She knew she needed to shake herself out of this depression which had enveloped her since the "resurrection", but couldn't find the strength to change her attitude. Today she felt especially beat down after a long day at Doublemeat Palace ("Double juicy beef and double helping of smiles!") with the beginnings of a cold stuffing up her head and the joy of starting her period. Bed! Sleep! Nothing sounded better. She put down the comb, turned on her little TV so she could hear the latest horrors of the world (how uplifting) and went to turn back her covers and drop into bed.
A tapping on her window drew her attention and the sight of a certain blond vamp peering in held it there. She stared open-mouthed for a second thinking, "Great, just what I needed to deal with on a crappy day like this!" then marched over and threw open the window.
"Spike, what in the hell are you doing out there?"
He was standing on the bit of roof overhanging the porch and was just able to reach the bottom of her window. His fingers were dug into the sill as he tried to keep his balance and maintain his usual smirk.
"Hey, luv, miss me?"
"Not so much or I'd be at your place instead of having you peeping-Tom outside my window."
"Come on. It's been almost a week. Don't tell me you're not in the market for a good shag."
"No, actually, I'm not. Bye." She started to shut the window, but Spike had already reached a hand inside and it banged down on his fingers.
"Ow! Bloody hell! Watch what you're doing."
"Shhh. You'll wake Dawn." Buffy lifted the window a little and began prying at his fingers, but he took advantage of the opening and began to haul his head and shoulders up through the casement. "Out, Spike. Out!" Buffy demanded, pushing at his head.
"Stop it. Who's making all the noise now? Just let me in. I want to talk to you. I'll be good, I promise."
With an exasperated sigh, Buffy gave up and stood back while the black clad vamp pulled himself through the window and toppled into a heap on the floor. He quickly leaped to his feet, trying to look nonchalant and cool, whipping out a cigarette which she promptly pulled from his lips and tossed toward the wastebasket.
"Okay, you're in. What? What is so important you had to come and harass me at home. I'm tired. I'm sick. And I don't want to put up with any of your bullshit tonight so spit it out and be gone."
Buffy plopped cross-legged on the bed, frowning at him as usual. She was adorable in her T-shirt and baggy sweats, Spike thought, and if he looked hard he could see her nipples through the T-shirt material. He sighed. It made the trip worth it. Would be nice to see one of her dazzling but infrequent smiles turned toward him though.
"Right. Well, I just thought you might like to know that….there's this new thing…." Crap! Why hadn't he thought of a cover story before he came? Planning ahead was never Spike's long suit. "That is, I've seen signs of a…"
"Time's up." Buffy snapped. "This is one of your lame attempts to get me into bed with you, and I just don't have the patience tonight. Out."
"Buffy, give me a break here." Spike gave up the pretense. "I just wanted to see you for a little while. See where that leads."
"It's leading nowhere. No hot and heavy sex for Buffy. I'm on my period and I have a cold. I need sleep."
"Can we just hang out?" he asked, pleadingly. "I'll be very quiet and very good. We can just watch some telly, then I'll leave."
She considered his endearing pout and well-muscled body and felt herself relenting despite her better judgement. It would be kind of nice to be with someone to take the lonely edge off the night, even if it was Spike.
"Whatever," she said, scooting toward the head of the bed and tossing the covers over her legs then picking up the remote. "But no talking. I don't want to work that hard. We'll just watch part of a movie, then you go."
A saucy grin spread across his face as Spike threw off his coat, tore off his shoes, and bounced onto the bed next to her. He leaned against the extra pillow, then began to burrow beneath the covers.
"No. You stay on top," she commanded. He shrugged and stretched out his lanky frame on the bed beside her which was really a pain, she realized, as it weighed down the blanket on that side. Watching her flip through channels 'til it landed on "Terms of Endearment", Spike ventured to rest his hand on her thigh. She let it stay there.
They watched the movie in silence for a few minutes, Buffy tugging in annoyance at the covers now and then. Finally, she exploded. "Oh, all right! Get under." Spike needed no further invitation, but plunged happily in next to her, pushing himself just as close as he could for the full length of their bodies. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder and let his other hand rest against her stomach. She felt him kiss her hair and, in spite of herself, relaxed in contentment. This wasn't so bad after all.
Spike considered, it was amazing how far he could get if he just kept his mouth shut.
As the movie rolled toward its inevitable, four-hanky conclusion, Buffy had almost drifted off to sleep, snuggling farther down til she rested on her lover's chest. She was roused from her doze by a curious shaking beneath her head. She sat up, bleary-eyed, and was amazed to see tears streaming down Spike's face. "What…? Are you crying at this movie!!!!" Buffy began to smile, then giggle helplessly. "The Big Bad crying at a chick flick? That's too good."
"Are you totally heartless, girl? What is the matter with you! She's dying and saying goodbye to her kids an' all and you laugh!! You're just sick, that's what."
Buffy wiped tears of laughter from her face and leaned in to lay a long, soft kiss on Spike's lips. She sat back and brushed away his tears with her fingertips. "You amaze me sometimes," she murmured.
"You amaze me all the time," he rejoined. He pulled her back to him tightly and gave her a hard, demanding kiss, as his hands roamed freely over her body. She responded and matched him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, until she felt the sexual frenzy start to overcome them as it had several times already. She broke the kiss and pushed a hand against his chest.
"Spike. I told you 'no'. Nothing is going to happen here. I'm not in the mood."
"I could get you in the mood."
"And even if I was," she continued, ignoring him, "I'm on my period, so forget about it."
"You forget, pet, I'm a vampire. I like blood."
She whacked him hard on the chest. "Ewww! That is so nasty. Get! Get out!"
"What? It's true. Blood is blood. It's all good."
"I am not hearing this, you sick bastard." She continued to pummel and kick at him to forcibly remove him from the bed, and he considered again, how much further he got when he kept his mouth shut.
"Sorry! I'm sorry." He tried to win his way back into her good graces. "I didn't know that was in poor taste. I'm socially inept, what can I say. Look, let me make it up to you. No more talking. No more kissing. Let me just give you a good massage. Penance."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "I knew it was a mistake letting you in. You exhaust me and I need to rest before this cold gets any worse."
Spike dropped to his knees beside the bed with folded hands. "Please," he begged. "let me do this for you. A full body massage, no sex attached. I promise."
Feeling the ache in her calves from standing up at work all day (and how come it was somehow more tiring than fighting 3 or 4 vamps?), Buffy spoke against her better judgment. "Oh, what the hell. Go for it." She flopped face down on the bed and waited with more anticipation than she wanted to admit for him to begin.
He tossed the covers back and straddled her body, but feeling "little Spike" already beginning to rise, he reconsidered and moved to sit beside her. He softly stroked her hair for a moment, then plunged his hands into the golden curls and began to gently massage her scalp. Buffy felt the tension ease out of her as he worked her temples… behind her ears…. down the tendons in the back of her neck…. and to the tight muscles across her shoulders. The pressing and kneading brought forth a moan of pleasure. She hadn't realized how uptight the daily pressures of work had made her.
Spike smiled at her response and continued to move his hands from her shoulders to her upper arms, then onto her back. "You know this works better naked," he informed her. "Better muscle contact."
"That's all right, you just keep your clothes on," she shot back, but with a shimmer of laughter in her voice.
"All right. It's up to you. I'm just saying." he shrugged, moving farther down her body to the mid and lower back area. He couldn't resist sneaking his hands up under her T-shirt at this point, and the feel of her warm skin stoked the coals of his desire. "Maintain, Spike. Maintain." he mentally ordered himself.
Buffy felt her own blood pressure rise at the sensation of his cool hands on her slightly fevered skin, but he quickly passed on from her back to her buttocks, which were well-padded by sweatpants. "Perhaps a nude massage would've been better," she thought idly. She lay, practically melting in enjoyment, as he worked the rest of the muscle groups down her legs. Slowly, methodically and tirelessly, he rubbed every inch of her down to her sweetly naked little feet.
As he manipulated each toe and used his thumbs to massage the pads of her foot, Buffy felt like crying in ecstasy. Suddenly, he grasped her left foot and ran a fingernail up the arch sending a wave of giggles through her. He gave the other foot the same tickling treatment as she writhed on the bed and pulled her foot away. "Stop it! This is supposed to be relaxing," she protested, shooting a dirty look at him over her shoulder.
He smiled mischievously and, grabbing both her legs, flipped her over on her back.
"Oh great, here we go," she thought, gearing up for an onslaught of kisses, but he only continued his ministrations to the tops of her feet…up her ankles…over her shins… and on to her thighs. She watched his sharp- featured face concentrating on the task, dark brows drawn slightly together, dark lashes falling against pale cheeks. He was so intent on the massage (pelvis, stomach, ribcage, breasts!) that she could observe him freely, unwatched. She loved the way his blond hair was tousled when he didn't gel it to death. His bone structure was impeccable (as were his pecs!, and abs, and everything below) and it gave her a thrill every time he clenched his jaw.
Buffy was growing warm from her musings and, incidentally, from his hands moving up her body. His fingers were moving delicately just below her collarbone now, circling out toward her shoulders, and pulling all tension along with them. She closed her eyes, and sighed deeply, letting her mind flutter away in fragments of bliss. Now he had reached her neck, and deftly reached around it to massage again her tendons, while stroking her throat with his thumbs.
Spike watched with pleasure the results of his handiwork. His beloved's lips were slightly parted and she breathed deeply. Every muscle in her face seemed relaxed as he gently moved his fingers from jawbone, to cheeks, to temples, and forehead, like little feathering kisses. Her eyes flickered open and she gazed at him sleepily. Green eyes locked with blue ones that were so desire-filled they almost burnt a hole right through her. The moment was crackling with tension, but Spike allowed his gaze to drop first.
He had already shown her he could screw her so hard and deep it left her aching for more. Tonight was about earning her trust, proving he could be gentle and considerate as well. He smoothed her hair again in slow, soothing strokes, and sat quietly refusing to meet her eyes.
"He's going to kiss me," Buffy thought. "He's got to kiss me right now or I'm going to combust. Hurry up and kiss me, damn it."
Spike leaned over her, and she held her breath and tilted her face toward him, closing her eyes. She felt the gentle, cool brush of his lips on her forehead, then the weight of him removed from the bed next to her. The rustle of sheets and blankets being tossed over her and tucked in around her were the only sound in the room. She felt his hand on her hair one last time, then…"Night, Slayer. I love you. I truly do," in his deep, masculine rumble.
She felt bereft as he left her and slipped out the window into the night.
Spike jumped lightly off the porch roof and strode through the fresh, clean midnight air whistling. His "little Spike" was still hot as a poker in his pants, but all in all it had been a pretty good night. A very good night. God, she was sweet. And, he considered again, it was amazing how well things could go when he kept his mouth shut!
End
Author: Bonnie
Email: bondav40@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Spike attempts to spend a platonic evening with Buffy
Disclaimer: Based on characters not created by me.
Buffy stood before her mirror combing out her shower-damp hair and staring listlessly at her reflection. She knew she needed to shake herself out of this depression which had enveloped her since the "resurrection", but couldn't find the strength to change her attitude. Today she felt especially beat down after a long day at Doublemeat Palace ("Double juicy beef and double helping of smiles!") with the beginnings of a cold stuffing up her head and the joy of starting her period. Bed! Sleep! Nothing sounded better. She put down the comb, turned on her little TV so she could hear the latest horrors of the world (how uplifting) and went to turn back her covers and drop into bed.
A tapping on her window drew her attention and the sight of a certain blond vamp peering in held it there. She stared open-mouthed for a second thinking, "Great, just what I needed to deal with on a crappy day like this!" then marched over and threw open the window.
"Spike, what in the hell are you doing out there?"
He was standing on the bit of roof overhanging the porch and was just able to reach the bottom of her window. His fingers were dug into the sill as he tried to keep his balance and maintain his usual smirk.
"Hey, luv, miss me?"
"Not so much or I'd be at your place instead of having you peeping-Tom outside my window."
"Come on. It's been almost a week. Don't tell me you're not in the market for a good shag."
"No, actually, I'm not. Bye." She started to shut the window, but Spike had already reached a hand inside and it banged down on his fingers.
"Ow! Bloody hell! Watch what you're doing."
"Shhh. You'll wake Dawn." Buffy lifted the window a little and began prying at his fingers, but he took advantage of the opening and began to haul his head and shoulders up through the casement. "Out, Spike. Out!" Buffy demanded, pushing at his head.
"Stop it. Who's making all the noise now? Just let me in. I want to talk to you. I'll be good, I promise."
With an exasperated sigh, Buffy gave up and stood back while the black clad vamp pulled himself through the window and toppled into a heap on the floor. He quickly leaped to his feet, trying to look nonchalant and cool, whipping out a cigarette which she promptly pulled from his lips and tossed toward the wastebasket.
"Okay, you're in. What? What is so important you had to come and harass me at home. I'm tired. I'm sick. And I don't want to put up with any of your bullshit tonight so spit it out and be gone."
Buffy plopped cross-legged on the bed, frowning at him as usual. She was adorable in her T-shirt and baggy sweats, Spike thought, and if he looked hard he could see her nipples through the T-shirt material. He sighed. It made the trip worth it. Would be nice to see one of her dazzling but infrequent smiles turned toward him though.
"Right. Well, I just thought you might like to know that….there's this new thing…." Crap! Why hadn't he thought of a cover story before he came? Planning ahead was never Spike's long suit. "That is, I've seen signs of a…"
"Time's up." Buffy snapped. "This is one of your lame attempts to get me into bed with you, and I just don't have the patience tonight. Out."
"Buffy, give me a break here." Spike gave up the pretense. "I just wanted to see you for a little while. See where that leads."
"It's leading nowhere. No hot and heavy sex for Buffy. I'm on my period and I have a cold. I need sleep."
"Can we just hang out?" he asked, pleadingly. "I'll be very quiet and very good. We can just watch some telly, then I'll leave."
She considered his endearing pout and well-muscled body and felt herself relenting despite her better judgement. It would be kind of nice to be with someone to take the lonely edge off the night, even if it was Spike.
"Whatever," she said, scooting toward the head of the bed and tossing the covers over her legs then picking up the remote. "But no talking. I don't want to work that hard. We'll just watch part of a movie, then you go."
A saucy grin spread across his face as Spike threw off his coat, tore off his shoes, and bounced onto the bed next to her. He leaned against the extra pillow, then began to burrow beneath the covers.
"No. You stay on top," she commanded. He shrugged and stretched out his lanky frame on the bed beside her which was really a pain, she realized, as it weighed down the blanket on that side. Watching her flip through channels 'til it landed on "Terms of Endearment", Spike ventured to rest his hand on her thigh. She let it stay there.
They watched the movie in silence for a few minutes, Buffy tugging in annoyance at the covers now and then. Finally, she exploded. "Oh, all right! Get under." Spike needed no further invitation, but plunged happily in next to her, pushing himself just as close as he could for the full length of their bodies. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder and let his other hand rest against her stomach. She felt him kiss her hair and, in spite of herself, relaxed in contentment. This wasn't so bad after all.
Spike considered, it was amazing how far he could get if he just kept his mouth shut.
As the movie rolled toward its inevitable, four-hanky conclusion, Buffy had almost drifted off to sleep, snuggling farther down til she rested on her lover's chest. She was roused from her doze by a curious shaking beneath her head. She sat up, bleary-eyed, and was amazed to see tears streaming down Spike's face. "What…? Are you crying at this movie!!!!" Buffy began to smile, then giggle helplessly. "The Big Bad crying at a chick flick? That's too good."
"Are you totally heartless, girl? What is the matter with you! She's dying and saying goodbye to her kids an' all and you laugh!! You're just sick, that's what."
Buffy wiped tears of laughter from her face and leaned in to lay a long, soft kiss on Spike's lips. She sat back and brushed away his tears with her fingertips. "You amaze me sometimes," she murmured.
"You amaze me all the time," he rejoined. He pulled her back to him tightly and gave her a hard, demanding kiss, as his hands roamed freely over her body. She responded and matched him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, until she felt the sexual frenzy start to overcome them as it had several times already. She broke the kiss and pushed a hand against his chest.
"Spike. I told you 'no'. Nothing is going to happen here. I'm not in the mood."
"I could get you in the mood."
"And even if I was," she continued, ignoring him, "I'm on my period, so forget about it."
"You forget, pet, I'm a vampire. I like blood."
She whacked him hard on the chest. "Ewww! That is so nasty. Get! Get out!"
"What? It's true. Blood is blood. It's all good."
"I am not hearing this, you sick bastard." She continued to pummel and kick at him to forcibly remove him from the bed, and he considered again, how much further he got when he kept his mouth shut.
"Sorry! I'm sorry." He tried to win his way back into her good graces. "I didn't know that was in poor taste. I'm socially inept, what can I say. Look, let me make it up to you. No more talking. No more kissing. Let me just give you a good massage. Penance."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "I knew it was a mistake letting you in. You exhaust me and I need to rest before this cold gets any worse."
Spike dropped to his knees beside the bed with folded hands. "Please," he begged. "let me do this for you. A full body massage, no sex attached. I promise."
Feeling the ache in her calves from standing up at work all day (and how come it was somehow more tiring than fighting 3 or 4 vamps?), Buffy spoke against her better judgment. "Oh, what the hell. Go for it." She flopped face down on the bed and waited with more anticipation than she wanted to admit for him to begin.
He tossed the covers back and straddled her body, but feeling "little Spike" already beginning to rise, he reconsidered and moved to sit beside her. He softly stroked her hair for a moment, then plunged his hands into the golden curls and began to gently massage her scalp. Buffy felt the tension ease out of her as he worked her temples… behind her ears…. down the tendons in the back of her neck…. and to the tight muscles across her shoulders. The pressing and kneading brought forth a moan of pleasure. She hadn't realized how uptight the daily pressures of work had made her.
Spike smiled at her response and continued to move his hands from her shoulders to her upper arms, then onto her back. "You know this works better naked," he informed her. "Better muscle contact."
"That's all right, you just keep your clothes on," she shot back, but with a shimmer of laughter in her voice.
"All right. It's up to you. I'm just saying." he shrugged, moving farther down her body to the mid and lower back area. He couldn't resist sneaking his hands up under her T-shirt at this point, and the feel of her warm skin stoked the coals of his desire. "Maintain, Spike. Maintain." he mentally ordered himself.
Buffy felt her own blood pressure rise at the sensation of his cool hands on her slightly fevered skin, but he quickly passed on from her back to her buttocks, which were well-padded by sweatpants. "Perhaps a nude massage would've been better," she thought idly. She lay, practically melting in enjoyment, as he worked the rest of the muscle groups down her legs. Slowly, methodically and tirelessly, he rubbed every inch of her down to her sweetly naked little feet.
As he manipulated each toe and used his thumbs to massage the pads of her foot, Buffy felt like crying in ecstasy. Suddenly, he grasped her left foot and ran a fingernail up the arch sending a wave of giggles through her. He gave the other foot the same tickling treatment as she writhed on the bed and pulled her foot away. "Stop it! This is supposed to be relaxing," she protested, shooting a dirty look at him over her shoulder.
He smiled mischievously and, grabbing both her legs, flipped her over on her back.
"Oh great, here we go," she thought, gearing up for an onslaught of kisses, but he only continued his ministrations to the tops of her feet…up her ankles…over her shins… and on to her thighs. She watched his sharp- featured face concentrating on the task, dark brows drawn slightly together, dark lashes falling against pale cheeks. He was so intent on the massage (pelvis, stomach, ribcage, breasts!) that she could observe him freely, unwatched. She loved the way his blond hair was tousled when he didn't gel it to death. His bone structure was impeccable (as were his pecs!, and abs, and everything below) and it gave her a thrill every time he clenched his jaw.
Buffy was growing warm from her musings and, incidentally, from his hands moving up her body. His fingers were moving delicately just below her collarbone now, circling out toward her shoulders, and pulling all tension along with them. She closed her eyes, and sighed deeply, letting her mind flutter away in fragments of bliss. Now he had reached her neck, and deftly reached around it to massage again her tendons, while stroking her throat with his thumbs.
Spike watched with pleasure the results of his handiwork. His beloved's lips were slightly parted and she breathed deeply. Every muscle in her face seemed relaxed as he gently moved his fingers from jawbone, to cheeks, to temples, and forehead, like little feathering kisses. Her eyes flickered open and she gazed at him sleepily. Green eyes locked with blue ones that were so desire-filled they almost burnt a hole right through her. The moment was crackling with tension, but Spike allowed his gaze to drop first.
He had already shown her he could screw her so hard and deep it left her aching for more. Tonight was about earning her trust, proving he could be gentle and considerate as well. He smoothed her hair again in slow, soothing strokes, and sat quietly refusing to meet her eyes.
"He's going to kiss me," Buffy thought. "He's got to kiss me right now or I'm going to combust. Hurry up and kiss me, damn it."
Spike leaned over her, and she held her breath and tilted her face toward him, closing her eyes. She felt the gentle, cool brush of his lips on her forehead, then the weight of him removed from the bed next to her. The rustle of sheets and blankets being tossed over her and tucked in around her were the only sound in the room. She felt his hand on her hair one last time, then…"Night, Slayer. I love you. I truly do," in his deep, masculine rumble.
She felt bereft as he left her and slipped out the window into the night.
Spike jumped lightly off the porch roof and strode through the fresh, clean midnight air whistling. His "little Spike" was still hot as a poker in his pants, but all in all it had been a pretty good night. A very good night. God, she was sweet. And, he considered again, it was amazing how well things could go when he kept his mouth shut!
End