AUTHOR'S NOTE: OK, the following is a bit of a throwback to my University days as a Peer Health Educator. If the notion of contraception offends your sense of romance, skip ahead to the first break. (But consider how unromantic the alternatives can be -- besides unplanned pregnancy, there are some pretty nasty diseases out there!)
Twelve: GOOD THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES
In the bright sunshine of morning, they poured out their hearts to one another and shared a kiss that fortified their love. Side by side they lay and together they were full; full almost to the point of overflowing. Looking deeply into each other's eyes -- his azure, her olive -- the smouldering flame began to spread from heart to head, to flesh, to soul. They ached for each other desperate to bind their love with the joining of their bodies.
Both were hesitant; the previous night had been emotionally as well as physically taxing on each of them. Neither wanted to rush, to pressure, or to hurt the other.
In the end, it was Buffy whose hunger would not be contained; perhaps because she hadn't had the time Spike had had learning to control his lust for her. "Spike, I want you. I need you." Then came the words he'd longed for: "Make love to me."
She'd never before referred to their encounters in that way -- she'd hardly referred to them at all except in the negative after the fact. This wouldn't be a long hard shag. They would make love: two beings expressing their devotion to each other through the pleasures of the flesh. Tender. Sensual. Slow.
Get it together, man. Don't get ahead of yourself. He had to remind himself that these were no longer the impulsive days of his unlife. Nope, this was the sport of 'safer sex' and he was a fully functional member of the team. As such, he needed to be equipped. "Yes luv. I want you. I want to be with you. I just need..."
In his eyes she could see the importance of this move. Buffy understood what he was telling her and, with a tingle in her belly, she let him go. "Hurry back," she cooed.
He returned moments later, a plastic shopping bag tucked under his arm and his face redder than she'd ever thought possible.
How weird is that? A guy who's been around as long as he has so embarrassed about birth control. Buffy giggled quietly to herself.
As he approached, he emptied the bag's contents onto the bed: close to a dozen small boxes of various types of condoms. Reluctant to meet her gaze, he explained, "I. ah. didn't know which to get." He cleared his throat uneasily.
"Oh Spike!" Buffy jumped up on the bed and threw here arms around him. With tears in her eyes, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the gesture. Instead she decided to say the only thing that came to her mind, "I love you!"
Just as the flush of his embarrassment was yielding to that of arousal, Spike felt Buffy stiffen.
She broke free of the embrace. "Shit!"
"Again with the short snogs?! What is it now, Summers?" Spike threw his arms up and glared at her in frustration.
Squinting at the clock by the bed, she muttered "What time is it?" then she began to rummage for clothes --- smiling at the over-sized T-shirt in which, she concluded, Spike had dressed her the night before. "I've gotta go to work! Be back about five." And she was out the door.
"Bloody fickle bird," Spike grumbled under his breath.
------- o -------
Buffy's morning had been very physical: teaching her kickboxing then spinning classes at the gym, which helped abate her sexual tension. After her lunch break, however, she had only private client training sessions, which left her largely observing other's weight training form. Her mind constantly ran to where her body yearned to be: back in her room and with the gleaming blue eyes and bare chiselled chest of the half-naked man she'd left there.
------- o -------
The sun was low in the horizon by the time Buffy arrived home. She was keen to shower and change so that she could pick up where she and Spike had left off --- and then need to shower again. Though I would so not complain if he threw me down in the foyer and ravaged me when I walk in the door, she thought hopefully.
Reaching to open the door, Buffy discovered it locked. "Huh? When does anyone ever bother to lock this door?" She ran the bell then started to rummage through her gym bag for keys. After she'd unlatched the deadbolt, she stepped inside and set down her bag by the door. "Hello? Spike? Dawn?" she called loudly then trailed off bleakly, "Anybody?" No response.
She went to the kitchen feeling hungry, alone, and frustrated: a dangerous combination. I need some double fudge brownie icecream.
On the fridge she found a note:
Buffy.
I'm at Janice's. Her mom's teaching us to make tamales.
Back by 10.
~ Dawn ~
"OK. So that's one down. Where are you, Spike?" she asked the air as she pulled out the icecream. Feeling sorry for herself and annoyed with Spike, she whimpered, "You would have to pick a night we've got the house to ourselves to disappear." With a sigh, she decided she needed the shower more than chocolatey comfort, so she put the icecream away --- though not before briefly considering eating said icecream in the shower.
After grabbing her gym bag from the front door, Buffy trudged up the stairs. When she reached the bathroom door, she tossed the bag down the hall to where it tumbled to a stop on the floor outside her bedroom door. Turning to go into the bathroom, she proceeded to pull off her top. In an amazing display of multitasking, with the top half off, Buffy flipped the light switch with her free hand as the other arm worked its way out of the shirt.
Buffy hadn't noticed that the lights didn't go on until she had the top fully off. "What the-"
The bathroom had been cleared of toiletries and towels, brushes and blow-dryers. In their place, were dozens of tealight candles and small clusters of wildflowers. On the edge of the tub was her robe and a fluffy bath sheet (both freshly laundered --- Spike does do laundry) plus a bottle of lavender bubble bath. Next to the bath was small table that had been brought up from the living room. On it were some elegant canapés nestled on a tiny silver tray, a slightly chilled bottle of sparkling water and a single water goblet.
The man thinks of everything --- but don't expect me to believe you made these yourself, Spike, she thought eyeing the savoury treats. "Spike?" She stuck her head out into the hall. "Spike?" she called louder as she walked toward the master bedroom. The door was ajar and the room dark, as she noticed on her way back down the hall was Dawn's. "Where the hell is he?"
When she went to check her own room (also dark), she found a note on the door:
Welcome home, my Love.
Enjoy a relaxing bath. Back soon.
Spike.
Buffy couldn't help giggling like a schoolgirl. "Sure," she squealed gleefully. "For once, Spike. I'll do what you say without an argument."
------- o -------
She'd been soaking and nibbling about twenty minutes when there was a soft tap on the bathroom door.
"Need someone to scrub your back?" His voice, so low and sultry it sent Buffy's heart racing.
"Yes... please," she murmured.
Spike entered wearing a pair of black chinos (rather than his regular jeans), black leather belt, and black dress shirt (instead of a T), with several buttons neglected, revealing his fair skin beneath.
Buffy shuddered at the sight of him in the glow of the candles --- then again when he touched her, scrubbing her back with a rough loofa brush. It was becoming too much for her: the steam from the tub, the sight and scent of her love, the sensation of his touch. Buffy couldn't be alone in the warm bubbly bath with him fully dressed outside of it. She tried to encourage him in with her, but he resisted. Frustrated, she began to get out.
As she did, he held the towel for her then helped her into her robe and tied it up in the front. Just when Buffy figured this was going to be an agonizingly slow seduction (Whimper-whimper), Spike swept her up in his arms and headed to her bedroom.
Nudging the door open, he placed her on the bed in freshly laundered sheets.
Could he be any more domestic? If I'd known he had such a laundry fetish, I'd have invited him to stay earlier!
The room smelled of the night air (from the open window), vanilla (from more candles) and fabric softener. Romantic instrumental music played on the portable stereo.
"Spike, this is incredible," Buffy exclaimed. "You're incredible!"
"Wanted tonight to be special for you," he said with uncharacteristic shyness. "Just being here with you makes it so special for me."
The things he says!
"Com'ere you," she ordered with a sly twinkle in her eye and lips curling up on one side.
"Don't have to tell me twice." He met her with an intensely passionate embrace.
Moaning softly, her mouth opened allowing his warm tongue to dart in and out, teasing her own --- encouraging it to join his game.
Still warm and damp from the bath, Buffy felt herself becoming warmer and damper as the tingle in her abdomen sent ripples throughout her body. Her hands fumbled as she tried to undo the buttons of Spike's silk shirt --- Is this real silk? Or is it just rayon? What do I care? Just get it off! Fortunately there weren't many buttons fastened to begin, so she managed to remove the shirt without breaking the kiss or ripping the damn thing to shreds. Now with the garment removed, she began to make her way down to his chest, tasting the salty sweetness of his taut skin on her tongue. The slight hint of his cologne mingled with his own musk created what for Buffy was an intoxicating bouquet.
With Buffy's hot little hands and moist rough tongue exploring his torso, Spike was feeling the effects of his arousal. "Buffy. What you do to me." The effect of her presence and her actions was undeniable and clearly reflected in the ever-increasing swell in his trousers. As Buffy removed his belt, Spike busied her mouth with his --- allowing him not only to taste her full lips and curious tongue, but also to unlash the tie of Buffy's terry robe. Easing away from her as he opened the robe, he was awestruck by the vision before him: against the stark white of the thick fabric and in the glow of candlelight, Buffy's bronzed skin radiated. "You're beautiful."
A surge of modesty overcame Buffy when she heard his words and saw the enamoured yet lusty look in his eyes. She pulled up one leg, crossing it coquettishly over the other.
"No luv. I want to see all of you. Taste all of you," he soothed. Gently he straightened the leg then coaxed her knees apart settling his hips between them. Poised there he could feel the heat radiating between them.
Eager to feast on the banquet of pleasure before him, Spike began to sample Buffy's body with his tongue. Across her jaw. Down the side of her throat. Pausing to gnaw at the base of her neck where once he'd have preferred to bare his demon fangs. Down to pepper her shimmering breasts with soft kisses.
She moaned and arched into him, displaying both her pleasure and want of more.
With hands and mouth, he began to explore... searching... waiting for her cue...
She gasped. "Yes, Spike. Right there." Her breathy voice hushed but demanding.
Both Buffy and Spike enjoyed the sensation as their arousal heightened in waves.
"Spike, please. I need you. Now... please."
Anticipation burned. Screamed in their heads for more.
He eased back from her just long enough to slip off his remaining clothes. Though only seconds, the time apart seemed to both of them like an eternity without his touch of her body.
He returned to her, now at her side, facing her with a shy smile. "Buffy," he said in a ragged whisper, "I need you too, luv." Between two fingers, he held to her view a small plastic packet.
With a coy grin and knowing gleam in her eyes, she took the packet from him and tore it open. Shifting her angle and attentions, Buffy grasped his shaft firmly with her free hand. With the other, she pinched the condom's tip, brought it to him, and slowly unfurled it down his full length.
"Buffy!" he cried out, reaching for her --- wanting to share with her; to join their bodies as one; to make love to her.
She returned her mouth to his for a series of delicate kisses before straddling his waist. Steadying herself over him, she raked her fingernails up the ripples of his abs to rest her hands on the taut muscles of his chest. As she descended, together they released harmonious groans of pleasure at the sensation.
Their eyes met and it was as if that moment united not only their bodies but their very souls.