FIRE
Smoke 2
By Annie
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, no, never; no money collected.
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
Off she went again. Only home, this time, leaving me in the middle of a dark street, rebuffed. What a word, rebuffed by Buffy.
I thought I would feel better after I smashed a chair to pieces in my crypt, but as I just wanted to fall on a huge splinter and die permanently, that apparently didn't do the trick.
Bloody bitch. Can't ever make up her mind what she wants. Expects every sodding one of us to just deal with it. I'm bloody well sick and tired of dealing.
Typical - get a guy all hot and bothered and then take off.
Should she be insulted that my dick got hard when she was leaning all over me like that? It wasn't like I could have stopped it. She didn't need to get mad. If mad was what she was. I was pretty mad, I could tell you that, as I kicked the splintered remains of the chair around.
I went to look for the broom, but grabbed my bourbon instead, yanking open the door and glaring out into the night and the ubiquitous mist, all but daring a demon or three to rise up and confront the angry Big Bad.
No takers, then. Fine. I'd just beat myself up a bit more, finish the job the Slayer always starts. And quits.
I slammed the door closed again and stood in the middle of the floor, seething. No one had ever been able to make me as angry as Buffy could. Or as hungry for her. Even now, the hunger burned maliciously, taking on Angel's sarcasm, his own conviction that I could never have what he had with her.
The bourbon probably wouldn't drown the fire, but I drank deeply anyway.
I was only halfway through the bottle when the knock came. Someone was knocking on the crypt door. Actually knocking. What the bloody fuck?
I was pissed; I wasn't even halfway drunk yet, and here was some trickster or other bugging me. At 1 in the morning.
"Can't I even get a decent night's drink in peace around here?" I was roaring as I pulled the door open, prepared to simply throw whomever it was across the cemetery to the nearest open grave. Buffy was there, apparently having changed her mind about going home to bed.
"Slayer," I practically snarled at her. "Come to finish me off then? I'll take care of it myself. Go back home to bed!"
I was closing the door in her face when it came back at me and knocked me to the floor. Points for not spilling a drop from the bottle, though.
"I'm going to have to talk to Willow about an uninvite spell for you." I told her.
"I knew you'd be holed up here drinking," she remarked, glancing around at the mess of the chair in the far corner. "Love what you've done with the place, Spike."
I got up and walked more than a few paces away from her. "What do you want, Slayer? I don't want to patrol anymore tonight. And my offer to walk you home has expired. See ya."
"I came to talk, and try to explain."
"Explain what, exactly?" I asked her, taking another swig from the bottle, offering it to her then, just to see the look on her face. I would have liked to have seen the look on mine when she grabbed it from my hand, took a quick drink, and handed it back.
"I'm having a hard time here, so.."
I tried to look shocked. "Well, your Slayerness, I am so bleedin' sorry you're having a hard time. I'll just, oh, I don't know, rearrange my entire life around you, how's that? Oh, wait, already did that. Maybe a little walk in the morning sun, help you clear your head. and ignite mine."
"Spike, please" she tried to go on, and I could see she was in earnest, but I was tired of the seesaw that had been my life the last few months.
"Please what? Please combust and get out of your life for good? Please crawl on the floor like a dog and beg for you to want me? Don't think so. Done with all that."
"Just listen," she asked quietly.
"I'll listen, and then you'll leave me to my bottle, deal?"
She didn't answer that particular question, just stood and looked at me for a few uncomfortable seconds.
"I'm not sure where to start. I know it seems like I don't know what I want, but that's not it. I always know what I want. I just don't like that I want it. Do you see?"
I nodded briefly, unsure where she was going with this, and thinking it couldn't be any good for old Spike anyway. I was already thinking of packing.
"Anyway, I've been thinking a lot. I went to see Angel, and that wasn't nearly as hard for either one of us as I thought it would be. We know, truly know, we can never be together, and all that is behind us. He has his life and I have mine. Again," she said with a tiny smile.
"So, like I said, I've been thinking, weighing things in my mind, like you."
Now I had had enough, and didn't want to hear any final rebuffs, this can't work out, been nice knowing ya', sod off.
"Weighing things in your mind?" I broke in. "Things like me? Trusty old Spike, good for killing demons and babysitting and selling information. And here I am, living the life of Riley in the Hellmouth, well, except for the shagging the Slayer part. Got a penthouse apartment for all my troubles. Can't eat, can't sleep, all I can do anymore is drink to put out this fire, this fire in my gut and in my brain. I haven't had a moment's peace since I first saw this bloody place, and now I've been weighed, measured and found wanting, is that it?"
"No, Spike," she hastened to assure me, knowing I was expecting something she hadn't intended to say. She put her hand on my arm, and the other one reached out and took the bourbon from me.
"I'm the one I found wanting," she told me. "It's me. I know I've got a lot of stuff to deal with, and this process to go through, and I'm trying really hard to go through it, but I'm tired of feeling like I'm never happy. And it's not just the whole being dragged back from heaven thing. There was a time, not too long ago, when I thought I didn't even have the capacity to love anymore. But when I went to see Angel, all I could think about was how it was going to make you feel. It took me three days to even tell you about it, I know you noticed that. And it's not because I didn't care. I did care. The whole time I was there, I cared. But not about how Angel felt."
"And I'm supposed to be happy?' I scoffed.
"I want you to be. I want everyone to stop hurting around me, I'm tired of it."
"So what now? I roll over and be the happy dog, let the Slayer scratch my stomach until something better comes along?"
Her hand came up then to slap me, but I was fast. I hadn't had nearly enough bourbon to slow my reflexes. My own hand came up angrily to stop hers, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor as the damn chip fired, both hands to my head, writhing in agony.
"Just stake me already," I gasped, "And put me out of my fucking misery!"
The bottle smashed on the floor as she dropped it in her haste to help me. "Damn it, Spike," she railed. "If I really wanted to stake you, you would have been a dusty memory long ago." She sat by me and pulled my head into her lap, her hands caressing my scalp gently. It hurt so badly, but I couldn't bear to make her stop touching me. I am so pathetic; love's bitch, I told them once before, and it's always been true.
The pain faded in a minute or so, but I didn't let her know. I wanted the sensation of her hands on me a while longer.
"Smashed the bloody bourbon, didn't you, Slayer?" I finally asked her quietly.
"I wanted your undivided attention," she explained, her hands beginning to give out more of a neck rub now than a scalp massage. I'd had my eyes closed the whole time I had been resting in her lap, and I was afraid to open them, lest the moment be ended.
"You have always had my undivided attention." I informed her, knowing it was entirely true. Even when I was obsessed with killing her, it was still an all-consuming habit.
"Is this all right?" she asked. "I'm not making it worse, or hurting you, am I?"
"Burn me to the ground, Love. I'll die happy," I replied.
Her hands stopped their soft caress then, and I felt movement. Now I'd done it, she was getting up. I was wrong, because the next thing I felt was her warm, full lips softly against mine, and then my eyes did fly open.
She tasted like my bourbon the first surprising second, and then she tasted like pure, hot desire. Don't know what that tastes like, but this had to be it. I licked her lips gently as my arms went up around her, pulling her down even further. She shifted until she was laying against me there on the floor, her arms around me now, pulling me in closer, all the while kissing me hungrily, tongue exploring my mouth while I tasted her the same way.
"Feel better now?" she whispered into my mouth, her hand caressing down my side, stopping at my hip to slide just close enough to my cock to turn my insides viciously. It was already hard, and needed attention. I did feel better, and thought I should show her.
"Little bit better," I replied, breaking the kiss to stand suddenly, pulling her up with me. The nearest thing was the wall, and I pushed her up against it, crushing my mouth to hers once more, tongue reaching as far as it could. She moaned into my mouth and I thought I would go berserk. I put my hands on her sides, thumbs rolling over her breasts, and her nipples were erect and demanding. She had her hands on the side of my face, holding me to her mouth, trying to devour me, it seemed, and I was quite willing to let her do it.
I pressed her to the wall with my weight centered right at her groin, and she moaned again when she felt my cock against her own heat. I moaned, too, at the burning there. I was aching to get myself out of the constricting jeans and feel her hot skin on mine. The thought had my mind reeling, and I leaned my face into her neck, like I had wanted to do earlier when we danced. I licked the warmth of her throat tentatively, and she reached down and put her hands on the back of my jeans, trying to pull me in even closer. I nibbled on her neck and she gasped my name. I ran my hands up under her shirt and bra to caress her breasts, amazed at the hot, firm feel of them. She started pulling her legs up along mine. I didn't need any further urging at this point, I was about out of my mind from the fire in me. I could feel it, burning up from my cock to my brain and wiping out any thought other than to be inside her. I ran my hands down from her breasts to her jeans, opening them quickly and pushing them and her panties down until she could step out of them. She reached down and opened my zipper, reaching in for my cock, groaning at the hardness there. I pulled away from her the briefest second so I could see her hand on my shaft. I don't think it had ever been so hard and she was stroking it lovingly. But not for long. Her legs started to crawl up mine again and I picked her up higher, as they wrapped around my waist. I pulled her hips toward me and held her with the tip of my cock just touching her. I waited, watching the fire in her eyes, and then she pulled my head to hers, kissing again, and that was all I could take. I pulled her down onto me, almost pushed over the edge by the gasp she made into my mouth.
I stopped then, with her impaled on my cock, her wet heat inside burning me as the muscles moved and caressed. Her breathing was deep and ragged, and mine would have been the same had I needed to breathe. I ate her mouth and tongue, there against the wall, wrapped up in each other. Her hips were moving on my cock, and it felt like it was getting even bigger in response. I had to move then, had to fuck her and I started slowly, barely moving, but her own movements were urging me on, demanding more. "Hard," she gasped into my mouth. "Spike, hard." She breathed against my lips.
So I fucked her hard, pounded into her until I could feel the muscles clenching around me and she threw her head back crying out wordlessly, bringing me right over the edge, the fire exploding in my gut and my head until my ears were ringing.
We leaned against the stone weakly. I was holding her up but that wouldn't last long. I could feel that my cock was still hard inside her, still wanting more from her. She could feel it, too, and moved almost imperceptibly, making my insides roil with renewed hot desire.
"Buffy," I said softly, seeking her lips once more, kissing more gently now, feeling the hunger flaring up. She lowered her legs from around me, and pushed me in the direction of my slab, which was thankfully covered with blankets. I pulled her down with me, claiming her mouth once again. She was trying to pull off her clothes, and I was more than willing to help, wanting to look at her. She helped me with my shirt and jeans, flinging them behind her carelessly, and then climbing on top of me, pulling at my shoulders until I sat up, with her sitting on me. She nibbled on my neck and I moaned in delight, hands cupping her breasts. I leaned down to take each nipple into my mouth in turn, hungrily, and she clutched at my hair and pulled me closer. My cock had become huge again, and she moved onto it gently, putting her arms around my head, trapping me there at her breasts. I sucked and nibbled while she moved, her breath coming faster and faster while she pushed herself to ecstasy with my cock buried in her. I felt her coming again, and poured myself into her, leaving her breasts to meet her lips again, to kiss while I filled her, moaning into her mouth, hands tangled in her hair to pull her closer.
We sat there, quietly, and then I lay back down, gazing at the beauty before me, Buffy, eyes burning, cheeks and skin flushed with pleasure.
"Buffy" I started to say something, don't know what, just something, but she leaned down and put a finger to my lips, which I kissed gently and then nibbled playfully.
"This is what I wanted," she told me quietly. "I just wouldn't admit it to myself. Now I have."
"And where do we go from here?" I asked, reaching to her face to push a waft of silken hair from her cheek.
"To sleep," she smiled at me. "We go to sleep."
I smiled as she leaned her head on my chest, holding her tightly to me, feeling the welcome warmth on my skin. I kissed the top of her head gently and closed my eyes, anticipating the morning.
By Annie
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, no, never; no money collected.
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
Off she went again. Only home, this time, leaving me in the middle of a dark street, rebuffed. What a word, rebuffed by Buffy.
I thought I would feel better after I smashed a chair to pieces in my crypt, but as I just wanted to fall on a huge splinter and die permanently, that apparently didn't do the trick.
Bloody bitch. Can't ever make up her mind what she wants. Expects every sodding one of us to just deal with it. I'm bloody well sick and tired of dealing.
Typical - get a guy all hot and bothered and then take off.
Should she be insulted that my dick got hard when she was leaning all over me like that? It wasn't like I could have stopped it. She didn't need to get mad. If mad was what she was. I was pretty mad, I could tell you that, as I kicked the splintered remains of the chair around.
I went to look for the broom, but grabbed my bourbon instead, yanking open the door and glaring out into the night and the ubiquitous mist, all but daring a demon or three to rise up and confront the angry Big Bad.
No takers, then. Fine. I'd just beat myself up a bit more, finish the job the Slayer always starts. And quits.
I slammed the door closed again and stood in the middle of the floor, seething. No one had ever been able to make me as angry as Buffy could. Or as hungry for her. Even now, the hunger burned maliciously, taking on Angel's sarcasm, his own conviction that I could never have what he had with her.
The bourbon probably wouldn't drown the fire, but I drank deeply anyway.
I was only halfway through the bottle when the knock came. Someone was knocking on the crypt door. Actually knocking. What the bloody fuck?
I was pissed; I wasn't even halfway drunk yet, and here was some trickster or other bugging me. At 1 in the morning.
"Can't I even get a decent night's drink in peace around here?" I was roaring as I pulled the door open, prepared to simply throw whomever it was across the cemetery to the nearest open grave. Buffy was there, apparently having changed her mind about going home to bed.
"Slayer," I practically snarled at her. "Come to finish me off then? I'll take care of it myself. Go back home to bed!"
I was closing the door in her face when it came back at me and knocked me to the floor. Points for not spilling a drop from the bottle, though.
"I'm going to have to talk to Willow about an uninvite spell for you." I told her.
"I knew you'd be holed up here drinking," she remarked, glancing around at the mess of the chair in the far corner. "Love what you've done with the place, Spike."
I got up and walked more than a few paces away from her. "What do you want, Slayer? I don't want to patrol anymore tonight. And my offer to walk you home has expired. See ya."
"I came to talk, and try to explain."
"Explain what, exactly?" I asked her, taking another swig from the bottle, offering it to her then, just to see the look on her face. I would have liked to have seen the look on mine when she grabbed it from my hand, took a quick drink, and handed it back.
"I'm having a hard time here, so.."
I tried to look shocked. "Well, your Slayerness, I am so bleedin' sorry you're having a hard time. I'll just, oh, I don't know, rearrange my entire life around you, how's that? Oh, wait, already did that. Maybe a little walk in the morning sun, help you clear your head. and ignite mine."
"Spike, please" she tried to go on, and I could see she was in earnest, but I was tired of the seesaw that had been my life the last few months.
"Please what? Please combust and get out of your life for good? Please crawl on the floor like a dog and beg for you to want me? Don't think so. Done with all that."
"Just listen," she asked quietly.
"I'll listen, and then you'll leave me to my bottle, deal?"
She didn't answer that particular question, just stood and looked at me for a few uncomfortable seconds.
"I'm not sure where to start. I know it seems like I don't know what I want, but that's not it. I always know what I want. I just don't like that I want it. Do you see?"
I nodded briefly, unsure where she was going with this, and thinking it couldn't be any good for old Spike anyway. I was already thinking of packing.
"Anyway, I've been thinking a lot. I went to see Angel, and that wasn't nearly as hard for either one of us as I thought it would be. We know, truly know, we can never be together, and all that is behind us. He has his life and I have mine. Again," she said with a tiny smile.
"So, like I said, I've been thinking, weighing things in my mind, like you."
Now I had had enough, and didn't want to hear any final rebuffs, this can't work out, been nice knowing ya', sod off.
"Weighing things in your mind?" I broke in. "Things like me? Trusty old Spike, good for killing demons and babysitting and selling information. And here I am, living the life of Riley in the Hellmouth, well, except for the shagging the Slayer part. Got a penthouse apartment for all my troubles. Can't eat, can't sleep, all I can do anymore is drink to put out this fire, this fire in my gut and in my brain. I haven't had a moment's peace since I first saw this bloody place, and now I've been weighed, measured and found wanting, is that it?"
"No, Spike," she hastened to assure me, knowing I was expecting something she hadn't intended to say. She put her hand on my arm, and the other one reached out and took the bourbon from me.
"I'm the one I found wanting," she told me. "It's me. I know I've got a lot of stuff to deal with, and this process to go through, and I'm trying really hard to go through it, but I'm tired of feeling like I'm never happy. And it's not just the whole being dragged back from heaven thing. There was a time, not too long ago, when I thought I didn't even have the capacity to love anymore. But when I went to see Angel, all I could think about was how it was going to make you feel. It took me three days to even tell you about it, I know you noticed that. And it's not because I didn't care. I did care. The whole time I was there, I cared. But not about how Angel felt."
"And I'm supposed to be happy?' I scoffed.
"I want you to be. I want everyone to stop hurting around me, I'm tired of it."
"So what now? I roll over and be the happy dog, let the Slayer scratch my stomach until something better comes along?"
Her hand came up then to slap me, but I was fast. I hadn't had nearly enough bourbon to slow my reflexes. My own hand came up angrily to stop hers, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor as the damn chip fired, both hands to my head, writhing in agony.
"Just stake me already," I gasped, "And put me out of my fucking misery!"
The bottle smashed on the floor as she dropped it in her haste to help me. "Damn it, Spike," she railed. "If I really wanted to stake you, you would have been a dusty memory long ago." She sat by me and pulled my head into her lap, her hands caressing my scalp gently. It hurt so badly, but I couldn't bear to make her stop touching me. I am so pathetic; love's bitch, I told them once before, and it's always been true.
The pain faded in a minute or so, but I didn't let her know. I wanted the sensation of her hands on me a while longer.
"Smashed the bloody bourbon, didn't you, Slayer?" I finally asked her quietly.
"I wanted your undivided attention," she explained, her hands beginning to give out more of a neck rub now than a scalp massage. I'd had my eyes closed the whole time I had been resting in her lap, and I was afraid to open them, lest the moment be ended.
"You have always had my undivided attention." I informed her, knowing it was entirely true. Even when I was obsessed with killing her, it was still an all-consuming habit.
"Is this all right?" she asked. "I'm not making it worse, or hurting you, am I?"
"Burn me to the ground, Love. I'll die happy," I replied.
Her hands stopped their soft caress then, and I felt movement. Now I'd done it, she was getting up. I was wrong, because the next thing I felt was her warm, full lips softly against mine, and then my eyes did fly open.
She tasted like my bourbon the first surprising second, and then she tasted like pure, hot desire. Don't know what that tastes like, but this had to be it. I licked her lips gently as my arms went up around her, pulling her down even further. She shifted until she was laying against me there on the floor, her arms around me now, pulling me in closer, all the while kissing me hungrily, tongue exploring my mouth while I tasted her the same way.
"Feel better now?" she whispered into my mouth, her hand caressing down my side, stopping at my hip to slide just close enough to my cock to turn my insides viciously. It was already hard, and needed attention. I did feel better, and thought I should show her.
"Little bit better," I replied, breaking the kiss to stand suddenly, pulling her up with me. The nearest thing was the wall, and I pushed her up against it, crushing my mouth to hers once more, tongue reaching as far as it could. She moaned into my mouth and I thought I would go berserk. I put my hands on her sides, thumbs rolling over her breasts, and her nipples were erect and demanding. She had her hands on the side of my face, holding me to her mouth, trying to devour me, it seemed, and I was quite willing to let her do it.
I pressed her to the wall with my weight centered right at her groin, and she moaned again when she felt my cock against her own heat. I moaned, too, at the burning there. I was aching to get myself out of the constricting jeans and feel her hot skin on mine. The thought had my mind reeling, and I leaned my face into her neck, like I had wanted to do earlier when we danced. I licked the warmth of her throat tentatively, and she reached down and put her hands on the back of my jeans, trying to pull me in even closer. I nibbled on her neck and she gasped my name. I ran my hands up under her shirt and bra to caress her breasts, amazed at the hot, firm feel of them. She started pulling her legs up along mine. I didn't need any further urging at this point, I was about out of my mind from the fire in me. I could feel it, burning up from my cock to my brain and wiping out any thought other than to be inside her. I ran my hands down from her breasts to her jeans, opening them quickly and pushing them and her panties down until she could step out of them. She reached down and opened my zipper, reaching in for my cock, groaning at the hardness there. I pulled away from her the briefest second so I could see her hand on my shaft. I don't think it had ever been so hard and she was stroking it lovingly. But not for long. Her legs started to crawl up mine again and I picked her up higher, as they wrapped around my waist. I pulled her hips toward me and held her with the tip of my cock just touching her. I waited, watching the fire in her eyes, and then she pulled my head to hers, kissing again, and that was all I could take. I pulled her down onto me, almost pushed over the edge by the gasp she made into my mouth.
I stopped then, with her impaled on my cock, her wet heat inside burning me as the muscles moved and caressed. Her breathing was deep and ragged, and mine would have been the same had I needed to breathe. I ate her mouth and tongue, there against the wall, wrapped up in each other. Her hips were moving on my cock, and it felt like it was getting even bigger in response. I had to move then, had to fuck her and I started slowly, barely moving, but her own movements were urging me on, demanding more. "Hard," she gasped into my mouth. "Spike, hard." She breathed against my lips.
So I fucked her hard, pounded into her until I could feel the muscles clenching around me and she threw her head back crying out wordlessly, bringing me right over the edge, the fire exploding in my gut and my head until my ears were ringing.
We leaned against the stone weakly. I was holding her up but that wouldn't last long. I could feel that my cock was still hard inside her, still wanting more from her. She could feel it, too, and moved almost imperceptibly, making my insides roil with renewed hot desire.
"Buffy," I said softly, seeking her lips once more, kissing more gently now, feeling the hunger flaring up. She lowered her legs from around me, and pushed me in the direction of my slab, which was thankfully covered with blankets. I pulled her down with me, claiming her mouth once again. She was trying to pull off her clothes, and I was more than willing to help, wanting to look at her. She helped me with my shirt and jeans, flinging them behind her carelessly, and then climbing on top of me, pulling at my shoulders until I sat up, with her sitting on me. She nibbled on my neck and I moaned in delight, hands cupping her breasts. I leaned down to take each nipple into my mouth in turn, hungrily, and she clutched at my hair and pulled me closer. My cock had become huge again, and she moved onto it gently, putting her arms around my head, trapping me there at her breasts. I sucked and nibbled while she moved, her breath coming faster and faster while she pushed herself to ecstasy with my cock buried in her. I felt her coming again, and poured myself into her, leaving her breasts to meet her lips again, to kiss while I filled her, moaning into her mouth, hands tangled in her hair to pull her closer.
We sat there, quietly, and then I lay back down, gazing at the beauty before me, Buffy, eyes burning, cheeks and skin flushed with pleasure.
"Buffy" I started to say something, don't know what, just something, but she leaned down and put a finger to my lips, which I kissed gently and then nibbled playfully.
"This is what I wanted," she told me quietly. "I just wouldn't admit it to myself. Now I have."
"And where do we go from here?" I asked, reaching to her face to push a waft of silken hair from her cheek.
"To sleep," she smiled at me. "We go to sleep."
I smiled as she leaned her head on my chest, holding her tightly to me, feeling the welcome warmth on my skin. I kissed the top of her head gently and closed my eyes, anticipating the morning.