A/N; This is a companion fic to Tintomara, but it can (and probably should) be read as a standalone. In chapter two of Tintomara I reveal what happened between Buffy and Spike the night before the battle against the first. This is the same thing, only longer and a lot more graphic. It's rated M for a reason people, so just be warned.
Oh, and I've never published any smut before (although I've written some in the past), so reviews would probably boast my self esteem a bit. Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar on top? (And how pathetic am I now, really?)
Enjoy!
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She was standing on the front porch, staring out in the night and trying not to think. At all. She wished her brain had an on-off button. That would've been neat. If she could just turn off her head for a moment, she wouldn't have to think about all this stuff. She could just take a break from all the badness that currently was her life.
The fight was tomorrow. They were at war against the first evil. And that was just one of the things that was driving her insane at the moment.
The potentials were going to die. Hopefully not all of them, but she knew there would be losses. And there had already been too many burials.
The betrayal came to mind. How her friends and her own sister had declared her incapable of leading them and run her out of the house. She had said that she was fine, and mostly she was already over it, but somewhere inside her it still hurt.
That was something she would have to deal with. Afterwards. Everything was put forwards in time, because she simply didn't have time to deal with it right now. "Later" was a word she had come to live by.
And then there were Spike.
The little cardboard box in the storage room of her mind labelled "Spike" also had a freakin' big red stamp on it reading LATER in capital letters.
She was so tired of that word.
This clearly wasn't working. All the effort she had put on not thinking had just led to the one thing she had tried to push to the back of her mind for the better part of two years. She didn't want to deal with this. Not now. All these thoughts and emotions swirling around inside of her was making her nauseous.
He loved her. She knew he did. He'd come for her when all the others had turned their backs at her. He told her she was the one. That she was one hell of a woman. She didn't doubt him. She never had. It was herself she didn't trust.
No. she wasn't going to think that way. Suddenly the fog in front of her eyes had cleared somewhat. The edge of her vision was still blurry, but she could see the larger picture.
She was done with later!
With a sudden strike of confidence in herself that she hadn't felt in several years, she turned around and made her way back inside her house, down to the basement.
He was sitting on the cot, studying the medallion Angel had given her, but as soon as she made her way down the steps he rose to meet her.
And that's when her confidence disappeared.
Damn! She'd had a whole speech prepared in her head. She was going to tell him how grateful she was. How much he meant for this fight, for their cause. How much he meant to her.
How much she loved him.
But as she looked him in the eyes, the words fled. She stared into those deep blue pools and just fell mute. She had never been good with words. So she acted instead.
She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. Then she leaned forward until her lips was barely a breath away from his, and stopped. She wanted a sign, permission from him. She wanted to know that he wanted this to.
He clearly did, as he took charge from there on. He kissed her softly, as if he thought she was going to break. His hand hung limply by his sides. He didn't touch her, but she could feel the shiver that ran trough him when their lips met. She started trembling.
He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, but he didn't say a word. He was savouring the moment, afraid that if he said anything to acknowledge her presence or what just had occurred, she would simply disappear. He'd had this dream too many times before to really trust his senses. But when he felt her head shift and her lips started a soft trail of kisses from his cheekbone to the shell of his ear, and felt her hands travelling down his abdomen and work their way under his shirt, his eyes snapped open. When he heard her soft whispered plea just by his ear, he seriously started to doubt his sanity. It wasn't what she said, but how she said it. Two simple words turned the world upside down for him, because she couldn't mean what he thought she meant. What he desperately wanted it to mean. Could it?
"Spike... please..."
Still afraid that this simply was a mirage, a play on his mind, he closed his eyes again and swallowed hard. When he opened them again he'd made a decision. There was a very real possibility that he would be gone by the day after tomorrow. He was almost convinced that he wouldn't make it out of this battle. If he only had this night left, then so be it. Carpe Diem and all that rot. Death, glory and sod all else, right?
He kissed her for real then, with all the pent up passion and frustration he'd felt since he'd come back from Africa. And she gave as good as she got. They stumbled towards the small cot, but as he laid her down on the mattress he started do doubt if this really was a good idea. Was he taking this too far? Was this something she would regret, or resent him for if they continued?
He studied her face for answers. What he saw there calmed hit fears, because in her eyes he saw no fear, sadness or doubt; only lust and something else his battered heart didn't dare to believe could be something more than the tentative friendship they had settled in since his chip had malfunctioned. She had initiated this. She wanted this as much as he did. He caved in. After all, he'd never been able to deny her anything.
The desire had hit him with full force, as it always did when it came to her. But he'd never felt this nervous or insecure before, not even during their first time together. His hands actually shook. He blamed it on the soddin' soul.
He placed butterfly kisses on her forehead and her eyelids. If they were going to do this, they would do it right. For once, Buffy didn't seem to mind that he wanted to take it slow. In fact, she seemed to welcome it. She sighed with content, and began to caress his naked back under his T-shirt with gentle hands. One of them found its way to the nape of his neck, and she started winding her fingers in the short, bleached locks she found there. He shuddered again, this time with pleasure.
He let his cheek stroke against hers, and then he buried his face against her neck and took a deep breath. She smelled divine. A mixture of vanilla and roses, no doubt from the shampoo and shower gel she favoured. And underneath that, he felt the scent that was unique for her, and her alone. Pure Buffy.
Spikes hand started to caress her body, reacquainting themselves with her curves. It had been so long! They both felt the desire urging them on, but none of them wanted to hurry this. They would take their time.
He wound his arms around her and pressed her body against his. She hugged him back, desperately. Neither of them said anything. One couldn't find the words, the other was afraid to scare her away if he opened his mouth. So he kissed her instead.
It started out slow and gentle, but they soon fell back in their old pattern of hurried, desperate and urging kisses. Their hands were not idle. Spikes hand found their way in under her green jacket and black tank top. Her hands were busy caressing his abs under his black T-shirt.
They shifted on the cot so that they sat opposite one another instead. Buffys nimble fingers started to lift his T-shirt over his head, and he took of her jacket at the same time and threw it at the floor, then he quickly did the same with the tank top. Then he leaned back, and just looked at her.
She sat before him, half naked, her perfect breasts directly in his line of vision, begging him to touch them, to taste them. She had foregone wearing a bra today. He swallowed hard.
She swallowed hard. Spike without a shirt on was always a sight to behold, but now it had been so long since she saw it last, at least in these circumstances. He was absolutely perfect, his rock hard abs and chest looking like they'd been carved from a single block of marble. His lean frame made his muscles stand out more, made them more noticeable, unlike the more bulky men she had been with before him. They paled in her mind, compared to him.
Spike had finally woken up from his reverie, and his hands started their trail over her body again, this time zoning in on her breasts. His thumbs flicked her hardened nipples, his hands massaged and squeezed the soft mounds gently. She laid her hands on his biceps and kissed him again.
He broke the kiss and trailed his lips down her face and neck, towards his goal. When he closed his mouth around her left nipple, sucking lightly and massaging it with his tongue, she threw her head back and moaned. He abandoned her left breast in favour of the right, giving it the same treatment. Buffys fingers dug in his biceps, her nails leaving crescent shaped marks there.
He slowly pushed her back so that she was laying down again. His never resting lips left her breast despite her moaning complaint, and worked their way upwards towards her neck again. Her fingers left his arms and travelled towards his belt instead, fumbling with the belt buckle for a few seconds before it snapped open. She popped the button of his jeans open and slowly pulled the zipper down.
When he felt her starting to work on his jeans, he followed her example and started to take of her trousers as well. Just when he was about to drag them down her legs he had to stop, draw in a hissing breath and squeeze his eyes shut. Her sinful little hand had managed to wheedle its way inside his jeans and started stroking his cock, oh so slowly. It was sweet torture after such a long time.
He grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her hand away from there, at the same time kissing her to muffle her mewling complaints. He quickly got back on track, and pulled her trousers and her panties down er legs before she had a chance to complain. Then she helped him get rid of his own tight, black jeans.
Now they were both completely naked, Spike laying on top of her. They never stopped kissing. In an act of revenge at her bold move inside his jeans before, his cool hand travelled down her abdomen towards the soft curls he knew he would find in the apex of her thighs. She was sopping wet, and so hot it felt like he scorched his fingers. He softly trailed a finger up and down her opening and circled her clit, but didn't touch it. He was slowly driving her insane with need.
She mewled, and arched her back. Her fingers dug in the sheets, and when his lips found her breast again, she almost screamed. She did scream when his fingers finally found her clit, first pinching it gently and then he started massaging it with the pad of his thumb. He smiled around her nipple.
When she came down from her high and gathered her senses, she felt the need to retaliate. In one swift movement she managed to turn them around, so that she was straddling him. Before he could say anything, she bent down and kissed him. Then she followed his example and trailed her lips down his neck, down his body. She stopped by his nipples, circling each of them a couple of times with her tongue, but unlike him she didn't stop there. The ventured further south, until she finally found what she was looking for. His cock was already rock hard and stood to attention, and her mouth watered in anticipation.
She flatted her tongue against the base of his cock, and slowly drew it upwards towards the tip. When she got there, she circled it twice, before closing her lips over it and started to suckle.
Spike panted, squeezed his eyes shut yet again and ground his teeth in his attempt not to go of like a bloody rocket all too soon. The fingers of his left hand wound themselves in her hair, whilst the others dug in the sheets on the mattress as hers had done before. Then he nearly lost it completely, when she suddenly took him as far in her mouth as she possibly could, and her head started bobbing up and down. What she couldn't fit in her mouth, she worked over with her hand, rapidly driving him insane.
He couldn't take it any more. Two seconds before he shot his load in her heavenly mouth, he grabbed her head and made her stop her ministrations. She pouted, but stopped when he dragged her up his body and gave her a mindnumbingly kiss. Then he repeated the move she had done before, and swiftly turned them over so that he was on top of her. He felt the tip of his cock prodding her moist opening.
Her hands grabbed his face, and she looked him deep in his eyes. She felt it was now or never,. If she was going to tell him she loved him, she was going to do it now. But when she opened her mouth, she was silenced by her lips crashing down on hers, desperately.
He saw her open her mouth to say something, and he panicked. Was she going to tell him that she'd changed her mind? That this was all a mistake? He couldn't risk it, so he shut her up the only way he could. He kissed her, desperately.
Buffy gave in, and kissed him back. She lifted her hips, making the very tip of his penis enter her. He broke the kiss, and hissed through his teeth. He looked her in hey sparkling hazel eyes, seeking permission. When he saw her smile, he gave in, as he knew he would. He truly was her willing slave.
He entered her swiftly, her wet, scorching heat enveloping him and her thight sheet squeezing him into oblivion. She cried out when she felt him finally inside her, his wide girth stretching her to he limits, almost splitting her in half. He felt just as good as she remembered. Heavenly.
She felt just as good as he remembered. Heavenly. He was completely still inside her for a few moments, just savouring the feeling of being inside her again, with her again. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on not cumming to soon.
She pressed her hips against his, imploring him to move. Slowly, he began thrusting deep inside her, hitting her just right on every stroke. Soon she was panting, moaning and mewling, and the soft noises she emitted drove him on, urged him to go faster, thrust deeper, harder.
He pistoned in and out of her, faster, harder on every stroke. Her moaning began to turn into cries of ecstasy, and when he felt like he couldn't take much more, he wheedled his hand in between them and pressed her clit with the pad of his thumb, circling it faster and faster, until he could feel her turn rigid in his arms and the contractions inside of her nearly strangled his cock. When he felt her orgasm begin to subside, he let go of his tenuous hold of himself, and with a roar he emptied himself in her depths.
He collapsed on top of her, panting needlessly in her ear, trying to get a hold of himself again. He felt her breathing hard beneath him, and he could hear her heartbeat rapidly thudding in her chest, calming slowly. When he pushed himself up on his arms to prevent himself from crushing her under his weight, she protested by putting her arms around him, drawing him down towards her again and hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, and buried his face in her hair.
They laid like that for a while, until Spike pulled his softening cock out of her, and moved to lay behind her. He laid his arm over her waist, drawing her flush against him, spooning her. All he heard from her was a content sigh, and then he could hear her breaths evening out as sleep claimed her. He smiled against her hair, then took a deep breath and savoured their mingled scent. He quickly followed her in slumber. None of them had slept that well in weeks.
***
By the next evening, she was in tears, and he was gone.
Until 19 days later.