CHAPTER 32 - A GOOD DEAL
"Make love to me. William," she said, addressing the man.
"Buffy!" the name escaped his lips like a strangled cry, as he pulled her forcefully closer to him, so that she was now sitting on his lap, legs opened wide. He could feel the heat from her, as they ground against each other in mutual desire, mutual intensity.
Everytime he touched her, it was as if he hadn't touched her for a year, years, forever. Actually, that feeling could be aptly applied to last night, but it had always been like that, and he suspected, were he was to live with her one hundred years, one hundred, hundred years, that it would still, always be like that. He could never imagine wanting her any less, not being thrilled with the touch of her skin, her lips on him, her small, strong hands on his body, her heat seeking him out, the sound of his name on her lips, the sound of her moans as her passion mounted, as he...
Clinging to him with one hand, she put her hand down between them, trying to set him free.
Suddenly, he raised up his knees and holding onto her tightly, stood up; her legs still over his.
At the sudden upward movement, Buffy, gasped, as she tightened her legs around him as he rose.
She looked at him with eyes that carried the memories of the first time she'd wrapped her legs around him, initiating the consummation of the affair that nearly killed both of them; to the unbelievable sweetness that been able to blunt, if not wash away, past hurts, past guilts, past angers.
He put his hands underneath her legs to help her with balance as he carried her to the bedroom. Tonight would not be about her mounting him against a wall.
He turned around at the edge of the bed and sat down, so that he legs now had contact with the mattress. He lay down and she came with him, on top of him.
Her mouth sought his out, as she straightened out the length of her body, to match it to his. She leaned up slightly on one arm to help give him access to the buttons of her pajamas, switching arms, so he could pull it off altogether. They were now bare breasts to bare chest.
"Spike," she sighed, as that half of her body made contact with his.
Running his hand down her back, he came in contact with the elastic of her pajama bottoms and slipped his hand under it, firmly taking hold of her bottom as he pulled her down further onto him.
Buffy raised up slightly on both arms, as she arched her back. His mouth left hers, as his other hand and his mouth sought out her breast. Gently at first, he suckled her nipple into his mouth as his hand found her other breast. His tongue twirled on her nipple as he pulled it more strongly into his mouth; she groaned as she lost herself in the delicious sensation of his expert touch.
Before Spike, she'd never had much of any reaction to someone either touching or sucking at her breast. She'd figured it was just for the man's pleasure, mostly, and was willing to go along with it, for that sake. Neither good nor bad, it had been a sexually neutral experience.
But with Spike, she'd discovered that his slightest touch at her breast gave way to an immediate sexual response between her legs, as if he were there already. It was an amazing feeling. All connected - lips, ears, neck, brain, breast, stomach...all crying out for him, for him to be inside her.
He sucked her breast hard now, as the heat between them ignited like gasoline on a fire. She rubbed against him, increasing the friction. He was so achingly hard for her, he could barely stand it; her heat, her warmth, her touch; all made him practically delirious every time they came together.
He was a fool for her love, but he didn't care. Not a bit.
Suddenly, he felt her hand undoing his pants, and then he was free; into her waiting hand, as she got up on her knees and began to pull his pants down toward his knees, then off, altogether. She sat on her knees by his feet, as her small hands ran themselves up the outsides of his legs, under his knees, up the sides of his hips. He looked at her as she did so, like a goddess discovering the topography of her long, lost kingdom.
Her hands then moved to the inside of his legs, starting with his ankles, as she slowly moved upwards. As much as he wanted to keep watching her, Spike closed his eyes, helpless, in response to the sensation. She worked her hands upward to his inner thigh. Ever so slightly her hands touched his s*****m. He groaned as he hardened even further.
She smiled to herself, knowing the effect she was having. She scooted upwards on his legs, rubbing herself through the pajamas, as she did so. Her hands now were on his stomach, directly above and on either side of his cock. She dallied with him like this for another couple of moments, before finally putting her hands on him.
"Buffy," he moaned aloud, as she finally touched him.
She stroked him for a few minutes, playing with all parts of him, then bent over and took him into her mouth.
Suddenly, Spike opened his eyes, almost startled, "You don't have to do that, luv," he said to her.
She removed her mouth, "I know, want to," she said, resuming.
He lifted her gently off of him, "No, you don't have to, luv," he said, a little more insistently this time.
It dawned on her why he was making it an issue. Not only had it been a game with them last year, one that she'd always, determinedly won, but also, perhaps, somewhere in the Victorian part of William's brain, he didn't think it nice; that is, for him to be receiving pleasure, while she wasn't.
Before Spike, she'd never had sex that was anything other than front to front. No putting mouths in strange places, no other positions. The fact that she'd liked it, and with him - soulless Spike, last year, had made her think that it truly was a perverse sort of sexual pleasure only reserved for the truly degraded. But now she knew better. When you loved someone you didn't mind using your mouth, wanted to taste the person all over, nothing dirty or degrading about it.
She slid her body back on top of his and kissed him gently at first, then harder. She put her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Spike, I know I don't have to, but I want to."
He turned to kiss her hard and she responded, but again broke off the kiss to whisper again into his ear, "Don't you want to know why?" she asked, seductively, throwing him off.
"Why, that luv? " Spike said, playing along, aroused by her voice.
She raised up and looked him in the eyes, seriously, without pretense or playfulness. Kissing him softly, she whispered into his ear, "I want to, because I'm in love with you, Spike." Again, she rose to face him, to look at what she knew would be his amazed, earnest eyes; "In love with you!" she spoke the words softly, but distinctly.
"In love?"
She nodded, taking his face into her hands, smiling, "IN love. Me with you; Buffy with Spike," then added, giggling, "Elizabeth with William."
"Now that we have that out of the way, will you please allow me to show you just how much?" she asked, lips pouty.
He just nodded, dumbly, blind-struck by her words, her openness...
As she rose back up to do what she aimed to do, he quickly added, "But, only if you let me show you how much I love you, too. After."
"Deal," she said, smiling, before her mouth got too busy to answer.
"Oh, Buffy! God, don't stop," Spike gasped as she brought him closer and closer to orgasm. His hands held her head, guided her, but didn't make her go down any further than was comfortable. She'd felt her own excitement increasing as he switched to stroking her back, in rhythm to what he was feeling, rubbed her breasts, any bit of skin available as he was driven closer and closer to release.
She expertly kept him on the brink for a while longer, until she herself was so excited by his reaction, that she couldn't do anything other than what his body was silently begging of her mouth to finish.
She sucked him harder, up and down her mouth went, caressing his b***s, until she felt him go even harder, as his hands pulled at her hair, moved her head. Then just as he was about to come, he tried to pull her up. He didn't want her to have to...
She resisted, not wanting to let him go, wanting to show him she could be there for his end, too.
"Buffy!" he called, as he came.
"Oh God, Buffy," he said, moments later, as he pulled her back atop him, "you're so good to me!"
He then flipped her over, so that he was now on top of her.
"So good to me, pet, so sweet," he said, between kissing her lips, her nose, her eyelids, her ears, her neck...
"Spike," she sighed.
"Spike's gonna take care of his girl, his Buffy, his love," he mumbled, "right now, pet, don't you worry."
"Not worried," she mumbled back, "happy."
He licked her neck and felt her shiver. He could feel the blood pulsing under he skin. Soft, delicate skin. Feel the salt and sweat of her. He grazed her neck with blunt teeth as she groaned in excitement to his body over hers, the weight of him pressing her down, his once again hardness, pressing against her, seeking her out.
He rolled her onto her stomach and got on top her back. He lay on top of her, kissing her neck as she moaned in pleasure at the feel of him from behind. He arched up to his knees, his mouth kissing the back of her neck, down her back, her spine as he rubbed his hands down her back. He slid further down her legs as he kissed the soft curves of her behind.
Buffy was moaning into the pillow as she rubbed against the mattress.
"Raise up on your hands and knees, luv," he said to her.
As she did, he turned over, so that he was on his back, his face underneath her.
He spread her legs and eased her onto his waiting mouth.
She moaned as his tongue hit that most sensitive, throbbing area. As she moved herself against his mouth his thumbs rubbed on either side of her opening, pulling the skin, making her feel sensations inside her walls. Finally he put his fingers inside her. He could feel her juices running down his fingers onto his face as his tongue worked it's magic.
"Oh, Spike, God, oh, God," Buffy moaned as she rubbed back and forth against him, his sensual mouth. When she felt his fingers enter her, well... it had been a good thing he'd pulled her toward the middle of the bed or she would have been hitting the headboard each time she lurched forward.
He loved the way Buffy tasted, juices flowing, swollen, red, wanting him, "So pretty," he mumbled, "all that sweet honey dripping down," he said between licks.
God! His voice! She thought she was going to lose it right then. He knew how he affected her, talking sweet to her with that lovely voice of his right when she was almost out of her mind, taking her to another level of desire.
Juices flowing, he could feel her nearing its peak on his tongue. Right before she came she always gave off an almost imperceptible tangy, almost electrical sort of charge. Like having his tongue on a 9-volt battery.*
"Come for me, Buffy," he murmured, "give it to me, give yourself to me. You're mine, all mine!"
"Spike!" she nearly screamed as within seconds of his last words she came; explosively. And then, seconds later, as he continued licking her, she came again, and again, a third time.
Fearing she was going to hurt herself, he finally let go, as he eased himself out from under her, as she collapsed onto her side.
"You alright, pet?" he asked her, at her side, once again.
All she could do was nod.
"Never had a multiple before?"
Buffy shook her head, staring at him, "I only thought that was a myth," she whispered, "didn't really know..."
He kissed her, "Wanna know a secret, luv?" he asked, "I didn't know either, never gave one before," he said with a grin.
She grinned back.
"Better use those sparingly, Mr. Worthington," she said, laughing a little.
"I promise," he said, seriously, holding her close.
She closed her eyes for what she thought was a moment, but fell asleep, deeply, in Spike's arms.
Spike was tired, but he couldn't sleep, didn't want to miss one moment of this experience, of Buffy. God, he couldn't believe she was here, with him, here. It really was like Sunnydale was another world, a separate world that took, and took, and took, but never gave.
Bugger.
He quietly eased her out of his arms so he could do his duty to her. He picked up the cell phone, connected it to the modem, and placed a pillow over the whole thing, as to not disturb Buffy when it dialed up, and called home. Seeing that everything was alright, he hung up, ignoring Willow's IM, with a curt, "Later," and looking at an email that Wood had sent her, telling her that he'd enjoyed dinner, blah, blah. He deleted it, then felt guilty, "Better 'fess up in the morning," he thought, not giving Wood any more thought. He knew where he stood now, where he fit in, fit in with her. Where he always was supposed to; he wasn't worried anymore.
He disconnected, and once again, brought Buffy back into his arms. Still asleep, she nestled back into his tender embrace.
He bent over and kissed the top of her head. Buffy, his Buffy. He looked up at the ceiling, at the heavens. Why couldn't they've always had this? He asked, but knew the answer. "Because, you poof, you were beneath her, still are. History of killing and mayhem doesn't usually wind up with boy getting girl. Especially, not as good as this one is," he reminded himself, none-too-kindly.
But she's here now, forgiven you for all of it, let you move on, gave you a reason to hold on when there was no other...
"Buffy, I love you so," he said softly to her, as she slept on, in a safe, dreamless slumber.
An hour later, Buffy woke up. Before she could open her eyes, she felt him, knew he was there, not only because she was in his arms, but could feel his consciousness, knew he was awake.
She opened her eyes to find his blue ones looking at her, "Didn't sleep?"
He shook his head, "Just watching you sleep pet," he smiled at her.
"Oh, also, called home, everything's fine," he said, briefly.
"Thank you for not forgetting; in the midst of all this," she smiled, slightly blushing.
"Wouldn't do that, pet, much as I might want to," he said, smiling back at her in a way that let her know he knew exactly what she meant, "made a promise to a lady."
Her arms went around him, and she kissed him softly at first, as she pulled him over on top of him.
He kissed her back, softly at first, then harder, as her mouth was more insistent for his. He felt her legs go around his calves, interlocking with his legs, as she drew him closer and closer to her body.
Without much adieu this time, he put his hand down between them, adjusted himself for the ready and in seconds, he was inside her once again. Swimming, drowning, it made no difference.
He looked at her, as she looked at him, her eyes reflecting back his feelings, instead of turning away from them. And he knew then. Knew it was this essence, between lovers, that poets tried to put into words, singers into songs, and writers into words.
Of course, it all came up short. It was the inexplicable, the unexplainable, the sacredness of love; that elusive metaphor that inspired those who create, to create, those that love, to love even more.
Spike was happy for once, to be in the latter category.
Buffy looked up at Spike, sharp lines of his face softened by the glow of candles, hair mussed up and natural, blue eyes looking back into her green ones as she rocked to the rhythm of their lovemaking.
They continued to look at each other, silently; no words necessary anymore, as their bodies moved in unison, until, no longer able to hold each other's glance, eyes snapped shut as they crashed together, in wave after wave of mutual pleasure and release.
Afterward, he lay on top her, her arms holding him protectively in a post-loving embrace. As much as he hated to move, some minutes later, Spike rolled off of Buffy, but she clung on, still connected, until they were both side to side, entwined, her leg over his thigh, him still inside her, as she nestled down into his chest and shut her eyes. And they slept, occasionally, half waking to kiss, to resume lovemaking, until falling back to sleep, still within each others embraces.
*Note: I do a little plagiarizing in this story, but don't worry, it's only from my own first story, called SEEING YOU. It's a description that I find most delicious, in fact...oh, but mr. spikealicious says it's perfectly okay to quote him, again. ?... nevermind.
"Make love to me. William," she said, addressing the man.
"Buffy!" the name escaped his lips like a strangled cry, as he pulled her forcefully closer to him, so that she was now sitting on his lap, legs opened wide. He could feel the heat from her, as they ground against each other in mutual desire, mutual intensity.
Everytime he touched her, it was as if he hadn't touched her for a year, years, forever. Actually, that feeling could be aptly applied to last night, but it had always been like that, and he suspected, were he was to live with her one hundred years, one hundred, hundred years, that it would still, always be like that. He could never imagine wanting her any less, not being thrilled with the touch of her skin, her lips on him, her small, strong hands on his body, her heat seeking him out, the sound of his name on her lips, the sound of her moans as her passion mounted, as he...
Clinging to him with one hand, she put her hand down between them, trying to set him free.
Suddenly, he raised up his knees and holding onto her tightly, stood up; her legs still over his.
At the sudden upward movement, Buffy, gasped, as she tightened her legs around him as he rose.
She looked at him with eyes that carried the memories of the first time she'd wrapped her legs around him, initiating the consummation of the affair that nearly killed both of them; to the unbelievable sweetness that been able to blunt, if not wash away, past hurts, past guilts, past angers.
He put his hands underneath her legs to help her with balance as he carried her to the bedroom. Tonight would not be about her mounting him against a wall.
He turned around at the edge of the bed and sat down, so that he legs now had contact with the mattress. He lay down and she came with him, on top of him.
Her mouth sought his out, as she straightened out the length of her body, to match it to his. She leaned up slightly on one arm to help give him access to the buttons of her pajamas, switching arms, so he could pull it off altogether. They were now bare breasts to bare chest.
"Spike," she sighed, as that half of her body made contact with his.
Running his hand down her back, he came in contact with the elastic of her pajama bottoms and slipped his hand under it, firmly taking hold of her bottom as he pulled her down further onto him.
Buffy raised up slightly on both arms, as she arched her back. His mouth left hers, as his other hand and his mouth sought out her breast. Gently at first, he suckled her nipple into his mouth as his hand found her other breast. His tongue twirled on her nipple as he pulled it more strongly into his mouth; she groaned as she lost herself in the delicious sensation of his expert touch.
Before Spike, she'd never had much of any reaction to someone either touching or sucking at her breast. She'd figured it was just for the man's pleasure, mostly, and was willing to go along with it, for that sake. Neither good nor bad, it had been a sexually neutral experience.
But with Spike, she'd discovered that his slightest touch at her breast gave way to an immediate sexual response between her legs, as if he were there already. It was an amazing feeling. All connected - lips, ears, neck, brain, breast, stomach...all crying out for him, for him to be inside her.
He sucked her breast hard now, as the heat between them ignited like gasoline on a fire. She rubbed against him, increasing the friction. He was so achingly hard for her, he could barely stand it; her heat, her warmth, her touch; all made him practically delirious every time they came together.
He was a fool for her love, but he didn't care. Not a bit.
Suddenly, he felt her hand undoing his pants, and then he was free; into her waiting hand, as she got up on her knees and began to pull his pants down toward his knees, then off, altogether. She sat on her knees by his feet, as her small hands ran themselves up the outsides of his legs, under his knees, up the sides of his hips. He looked at her as she did so, like a goddess discovering the topography of her long, lost kingdom.
Her hands then moved to the inside of his legs, starting with his ankles, as she slowly moved upwards. As much as he wanted to keep watching her, Spike closed his eyes, helpless, in response to the sensation. She worked her hands upward to his inner thigh. Ever so slightly her hands touched his s*****m. He groaned as he hardened even further.
She smiled to herself, knowing the effect she was having. She scooted upwards on his legs, rubbing herself through the pajamas, as she did so. Her hands now were on his stomach, directly above and on either side of his cock. She dallied with him like this for another couple of moments, before finally putting her hands on him.
"Buffy," he moaned aloud, as she finally touched him.
She stroked him for a few minutes, playing with all parts of him, then bent over and took him into her mouth.
Suddenly, Spike opened his eyes, almost startled, "You don't have to do that, luv," he said to her.
She removed her mouth, "I know, want to," she said, resuming.
He lifted her gently off of him, "No, you don't have to, luv," he said, a little more insistently this time.
It dawned on her why he was making it an issue. Not only had it been a game with them last year, one that she'd always, determinedly won, but also, perhaps, somewhere in the Victorian part of William's brain, he didn't think it nice; that is, for him to be receiving pleasure, while she wasn't.
Before Spike, she'd never had sex that was anything other than front to front. No putting mouths in strange places, no other positions. The fact that she'd liked it, and with him - soulless Spike, last year, had made her think that it truly was a perverse sort of sexual pleasure only reserved for the truly degraded. But now she knew better. When you loved someone you didn't mind using your mouth, wanted to taste the person all over, nothing dirty or degrading about it.
She slid her body back on top of his and kissed him gently at first, then harder. She put her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Spike, I know I don't have to, but I want to."
He turned to kiss her hard and she responded, but again broke off the kiss to whisper again into his ear, "Don't you want to know why?" she asked, seductively, throwing him off.
"Why, that luv? " Spike said, playing along, aroused by her voice.
She raised up and looked him in the eyes, seriously, without pretense or playfulness. Kissing him softly, she whispered into his ear, "I want to, because I'm in love with you, Spike." Again, she rose to face him, to look at what she knew would be his amazed, earnest eyes; "In love with you!" she spoke the words softly, but distinctly.
"In love?"
She nodded, taking his face into her hands, smiling, "IN love. Me with you; Buffy with Spike," then added, giggling, "Elizabeth with William."
"Now that we have that out of the way, will you please allow me to show you just how much?" she asked, lips pouty.
He just nodded, dumbly, blind-struck by her words, her openness...
As she rose back up to do what she aimed to do, he quickly added, "But, only if you let me show you how much I love you, too. After."
"Deal," she said, smiling, before her mouth got too busy to answer.
"Oh, Buffy! God, don't stop," Spike gasped as she brought him closer and closer to orgasm. His hands held her head, guided her, but didn't make her go down any further than was comfortable. She'd felt her own excitement increasing as he switched to stroking her back, in rhythm to what he was feeling, rubbed her breasts, any bit of skin available as he was driven closer and closer to release.
She expertly kept him on the brink for a while longer, until she herself was so excited by his reaction, that she couldn't do anything other than what his body was silently begging of her mouth to finish.
She sucked him harder, up and down her mouth went, caressing his b***s, until she felt him go even harder, as his hands pulled at her hair, moved her head. Then just as he was about to come, he tried to pull her up. He didn't want her to have to...
She resisted, not wanting to let him go, wanting to show him she could be there for his end, too.
"Buffy!" he called, as he came.
"Oh God, Buffy," he said, moments later, as he pulled her back atop him, "you're so good to me!"
He then flipped her over, so that he was now on top of her.
"So good to me, pet, so sweet," he said, between kissing her lips, her nose, her eyelids, her ears, her neck...
"Spike," she sighed.
"Spike's gonna take care of his girl, his Buffy, his love," he mumbled, "right now, pet, don't you worry."
"Not worried," she mumbled back, "happy."
He licked her neck and felt her shiver. He could feel the blood pulsing under he skin. Soft, delicate skin. Feel the salt and sweat of her. He grazed her neck with blunt teeth as she groaned in excitement to his body over hers, the weight of him pressing her down, his once again hardness, pressing against her, seeking her out.
He rolled her onto her stomach and got on top her back. He lay on top of her, kissing her neck as she moaned in pleasure at the feel of him from behind. He arched up to his knees, his mouth kissing the back of her neck, down her back, her spine as he rubbed his hands down her back. He slid further down her legs as he kissed the soft curves of her behind.
Buffy was moaning into the pillow as she rubbed against the mattress.
"Raise up on your hands and knees, luv," he said to her.
As she did, he turned over, so that he was on his back, his face underneath her.
He spread her legs and eased her onto his waiting mouth.
She moaned as his tongue hit that most sensitive, throbbing area. As she moved herself against his mouth his thumbs rubbed on either side of her opening, pulling the skin, making her feel sensations inside her walls. Finally he put his fingers inside her. He could feel her juices running down his fingers onto his face as his tongue worked it's magic.
"Oh, Spike, God, oh, God," Buffy moaned as she rubbed back and forth against him, his sensual mouth. When she felt his fingers enter her, well... it had been a good thing he'd pulled her toward the middle of the bed or she would have been hitting the headboard each time she lurched forward.
He loved the way Buffy tasted, juices flowing, swollen, red, wanting him, "So pretty," he mumbled, "all that sweet honey dripping down," he said between licks.
God! His voice! She thought she was going to lose it right then. He knew how he affected her, talking sweet to her with that lovely voice of his right when she was almost out of her mind, taking her to another level of desire.
Juices flowing, he could feel her nearing its peak on his tongue. Right before she came she always gave off an almost imperceptible tangy, almost electrical sort of charge. Like having his tongue on a 9-volt battery.*
"Come for me, Buffy," he murmured, "give it to me, give yourself to me. You're mine, all mine!"
"Spike!" she nearly screamed as within seconds of his last words she came; explosively. And then, seconds later, as he continued licking her, she came again, and again, a third time.
Fearing she was going to hurt herself, he finally let go, as he eased himself out from under her, as she collapsed onto her side.
"You alright, pet?" he asked her, at her side, once again.
All she could do was nod.
"Never had a multiple before?"
Buffy shook her head, staring at him, "I only thought that was a myth," she whispered, "didn't really know..."
He kissed her, "Wanna know a secret, luv?" he asked, "I didn't know either, never gave one before," he said with a grin.
She grinned back.
"Better use those sparingly, Mr. Worthington," she said, laughing a little.
"I promise," he said, seriously, holding her close.
She closed her eyes for what she thought was a moment, but fell asleep, deeply, in Spike's arms.
Spike was tired, but he couldn't sleep, didn't want to miss one moment of this experience, of Buffy. God, he couldn't believe she was here, with him, here. It really was like Sunnydale was another world, a separate world that took, and took, and took, but never gave.
Bugger.
He quietly eased her out of his arms so he could do his duty to her. He picked up the cell phone, connected it to the modem, and placed a pillow over the whole thing, as to not disturb Buffy when it dialed up, and called home. Seeing that everything was alright, he hung up, ignoring Willow's IM, with a curt, "Later," and looking at an email that Wood had sent her, telling her that he'd enjoyed dinner, blah, blah. He deleted it, then felt guilty, "Better 'fess up in the morning," he thought, not giving Wood any more thought. He knew where he stood now, where he fit in, fit in with her. Where he always was supposed to; he wasn't worried anymore.
He disconnected, and once again, brought Buffy back into his arms. Still asleep, she nestled back into his tender embrace.
He bent over and kissed the top of her head. Buffy, his Buffy. He looked up at the ceiling, at the heavens. Why couldn't they've always had this? He asked, but knew the answer. "Because, you poof, you were beneath her, still are. History of killing and mayhem doesn't usually wind up with boy getting girl. Especially, not as good as this one is," he reminded himself, none-too-kindly.
But she's here now, forgiven you for all of it, let you move on, gave you a reason to hold on when there was no other...
"Buffy, I love you so," he said softly to her, as she slept on, in a safe, dreamless slumber.
An hour later, Buffy woke up. Before she could open her eyes, she felt him, knew he was there, not only because she was in his arms, but could feel his consciousness, knew he was awake.
She opened her eyes to find his blue ones looking at her, "Didn't sleep?"
He shook his head, "Just watching you sleep pet," he smiled at her.
"Oh, also, called home, everything's fine," he said, briefly.
"Thank you for not forgetting; in the midst of all this," she smiled, slightly blushing.
"Wouldn't do that, pet, much as I might want to," he said, smiling back at her in a way that let her know he knew exactly what she meant, "made a promise to a lady."
Her arms went around him, and she kissed him softly at first, as she pulled him over on top of him.
He kissed her back, softly at first, then harder, as her mouth was more insistent for his. He felt her legs go around his calves, interlocking with his legs, as she drew him closer and closer to her body.
Without much adieu this time, he put his hand down between them, adjusted himself for the ready and in seconds, he was inside her once again. Swimming, drowning, it made no difference.
He looked at her, as she looked at him, her eyes reflecting back his feelings, instead of turning away from them. And he knew then. Knew it was this essence, between lovers, that poets tried to put into words, singers into songs, and writers into words.
Of course, it all came up short. It was the inexplicable, the unexplainable, the sacredness of love; that elusive metaphor that inspired those who create, to create, those that love, to love even more.
Spike was happy for once, to be in the latter category.
Buffy looked up at Spike, sharp lines of his face softened by the glow of candles, hair mussed up and natural, blue eyes looking back into her green ones as she rocked to the rhythm of their lovemaking.
They continued to look at each other, silently; no words necessary anymore, as their bodies moved in unison, until, no longer able to hold each other's glance, eyes snapped shut as they crashed together, in wave after wave of mutual pleasure and release.
Afterward, he lay on top her, her arms holding him protectively in a post-loving embrace. As much as he hated to move, some minutes later, Spike rolled off of Buffy, but she clung on, still connected, until they were both side to side, entwined, her leg over his thigh, him still inside her, as she nestled down into his chest and shut her eyes. And they slept, occasionally, half waking to kiss, to resume lovemaking, until falling back to sleep, still within each others embraces.
*Note: I do a little plagiarizing in this story, but don't worry, it's only from my own first story, called SEEING YOU. It's a description that I find most delicious, in fact...oh, but mr. spikealicious says it's perfectly okay to quote him, again. ?... nevermind.