Chapter Seven
Buffy came down the last few steps, the train of her gown trailing behind her. "Spike?"
William nodded cautiously. "Old nickname," he said. "Buffy?"
"Old name."
"She said you christened her Perdita," Angel said.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time." His eyes were still on Buffy. "Who are you?"
Her eyes were steady, her voice calm. "I'm the Slayer."
He shook his head. "I didn't - I mean I thought I - the way you - but I never - you're really the Slayer?"
She nodded.
"Bloody hell."
Cordelia appeared with a bottle and a shot glass, which she filled and handed wordlessly to William. He emptied it and held it out for more.
"Can I talk to you?"
Buffy nodded and turned back up the stairs. William glanced at Angel and Darla, who leered suggestively, and Doyle and Cordelia, who just rolled their eyes, and followed her.
She took him to a beautiful bedroom, shut the door, and leaned against it, her eyes closed.
"Buffy?"
She looked at him.
"Are you alright?"
She sighed. "William-" she began, and then stopped. "Spike?"
"William is fine. Will will do."
She gave him a small smile. "See, at least you can choose. In the last three days I've had three new names. If I go to another town, what will I be there?"
"Some people would love to have no name."
"People like you, you mean? People like me?"
He watched her carefully. "Your strength, your skill, your attitude. I should have known... I realised this morning, when you - why did you take my clothes?"
"Couldn't ride so well in mine. And I didn't want to be accused of stealing Willow's."
He stared. "You wouldn't steal hers, but you'd nick mine?"
"Yours were probably stolen anyway."
"The hell they were!" He calmed himself. "Look, it doesn't matter. I was worried about you."
"You knew I was the Slayer, and you were worried about me?"
"Well, I didn't know then. I only suspected... I didn't know for sure until Darla brought me here."
"Ah, yes."
He raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Darla."
"Darla?"
"Stop repeating what I say." Buffy crossed the room, rubbing at her temples. "How do you know Angel and Darla?"
"Old friends. They seem to know you."
"Angel does. I think Darla came on the scene after me."
William's eyebrows went up again. "On what scene? Were you and Angel-?"
"So he tells me."
"Bloody hell!" William pulled at the tailcoat he was still wearing - it was very wet around the collar where his coat had let drips in. In fact, all his clothes were wet, his feet were frozen, all he really wanted was a hot bath. And maybe a hot Buffy, too.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm soaked, love. Don't want me to catch a chill, do you?"
She shrugged.
"Hey, what did I do to you?"
She dropped her eyes.
"If this is about maidenly virtues-"
"It's not," she said. "But it could have been."
William was confused. He carried on undressing, because that was still pertinent, but he wasn't sure what to say. Instead he put his head out of the door, grabbed the nearest servant, and requested a hot bath. Then he came back in, and Buffy was still standing there, chewing her lip.
"You didn't know I wasn't a virgin," she said. "You were taking advantage of me."
"Excuse me," William chucked his shirt on the pile of wet clothing, "I seem to remember you doing a fair bit of taking yourself."
Her cheeks turned pink.
"Oh, now that's precious," William said. "Now she's blushing."
"Damn right I am! I can't believe I let you-"
"Let me?" William stared at her. "Most of the time you were making me."
Buffy tried hard not to stare at his naked torso. She'd had the image fastened securely behind her eyeballs ever since she'd first seen it. Now it was making thought rather... hard...
He sat down on the bed and pulled off his boots. At least she hadn't stolen them - the whelp's shoes would never have fit. And if he'd worn shoes, he'd have to have worn stockings, and William really wasn't big on stockings.
"Why did you run?" he asked.
She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "I... I don't know. I couldn't stay."
William looked up and pinned his gaze on her. "Are you ashamed?"
Silence, then she said in a tiny whisper, "Yes."
He got up, strode over, grabbed her by the shoulders. "You're ashamed of me?"
"No," she shook her head, "not of you. Of me."
"Why?"
"I behaved - I behaved like a whore. For all I know I could be a whore."
"You're not," he released her.
"And how do you know? Let me guess - you suddenly remember me, too?"
"I do remember you," William said, "I remember last night and I'll never forget it. You were nothing like a whore."
"Known a few, have you?"
"Yeah."
Fear flashed in her eyes, and he gave a small, mocking laugh. "Don't worry, I don't have anything."
A knock on the door signalled the first few buckets of water and the tub, and both William and Buffy stood back as it was all set up. Cordelia brought in towels and fresh clothes, which made William sneer slightly, knowing they'd be Angel's and far too big for him.
And then the servants were gone, and it was just Buffy, and a semi-naked William. And then he took his breeches off, and he wasn't just semi-naked any more.
He got into the bath and closed his eyes in bliss. Heat and cleanliness. So basic, so wonderful. So wonderful they really ought to be shared.
"Care to join me?"
God, yes, Buffy thought, but she shook her head rapidly. She leapt at the sideboard and grabbed the decanter there, drinking straight from it and slamming it back down with a thud. "No. I should, uh," she trailed off as he opened his eyes and looked at her, his face inviting.
"Sure?"
"I took a bath yesterday."
"It's not going to kill you."
Buffy swallowed. Damn, he looked fine. But she didn't need to distract herself with him. She needed to go and talk to Angel and find out as much about herself as she could, and then she needed to go and find that schoolteacher and-
"It's good for what ails you," William said, eyes half-shut, sleepy, seductive.
"I-"
"I'll scrub your back," he offered, and a small laugh escaped Buffy.
"Is that all you'll scrub?"
His eyes opened fully. "What else did you have in mind?"
Buffy couldn't possibly tell him. She honestly couldn't, because she didn't know the names for most of the places she wanted him to touch her. Her face got hot. All of her was getting hot. Probably she should take some clothes off. This dress of Darla's was awfully restricting. Too small.
"You all right there, pet?" William cocked his head at her. "You look a little," his eyes trailed down over her delightfully heaving bosom, "flushed."
"I'm too hot," Buffy mumbled, sure it was the alcohol flooding her veins with heat, and not him.
He crooked a finger at her, and she went over to the bathtub. William beckoned her even closer, and she knelt down and put her ear to him as he whispered, "Maybe you should get out of that frock. Lot of heavy fabric there to make you all warm."
"I, er," Buffy could feel the heat from his bath-warmed body seeping out to her. Through the herbs in the water she could see his hard chest, tight, flat stomach, and then the darker curls between his legs. She willed her eyes not to look any further.
They disobeyed.
"You want me to help you with that?" William offered, and Buffy thought, I was just about to ask you the same thing.
His hand reached out and trailed down the red and black stomacher.
"This is an amazing dress," he murmured.
"It's, uh, Darla's..."
"Hmm. Well, if it's someone else's, then really you ought to be very careful about keeping it nice and clean, and dry..."
Buffy wholeheartedly agreed. William had already undone a couple of the catches on the front of her bodice, and she helped him unfasten a few more. Then a few more. Then she pushed the dress off her body, stepped out of it and flung it on the bed.
"There," she said, "perfectly safe."
William looked up at her shoulders, bared by the deep red corset, her arms, soft breasts, bare throat enhanced by a jewelled choker, and thought to himself that the dress might be safe, but she wasn't.
He held out his hand, and she came back, back to her knees by the bath, and when he curved his arm around the back of her soft neck and pulled her to him, she kissed him readily. Such a sweet, soft mouth. Slight taste of brandy. Tart and delicious.
Buffy's hand was on his shoulder, his chest, caressing the damp skin. And then it slid down under the hot water. And then William's sleepy eyes flew open and Buffy's mouth slipped down to his neck and her teeth gently nipped his skin while her fingers closed around his hard length and stroked it.
"God, Perdi-" her head flew up. "Buffy," William corrected himself. "Buffy. The Slayer. My delicious, delightful Slayer. Buffy," his hand tangled in the sweat-dampened tendrils at the back of her neck, and he pulled her back to kiss him. His other hand moved up to caress the silk of the corset, feel the hard lines of whalebone underneath, then the softness of her breast above. She was breathing so hard she was nearly falling out of the corset.
He just helped her a little.
He rolled her hard nipple between his fingers and she let out a soft gasp against his mouth. He leaned over and took the little pink bud between his teeth, and she hissed with pleasure, moving her hand faster under the water. William groaned and sucked hard on her nipple, and she held him to her, stroking, pumping, harder, faster.
"Oh, God," William gasped, and his whole body jerked, "Buffy-"
She lifted his head and kissed him again as his whole body softened and he almost slid down under the water.
"That's the way to drown a man," she observed, smiling coyly, and William looked up at her. Flushed and glistening, her hair in glorious disarray, one tight, deep pink nipple peeping out from over the top of that wicked corset. Her lips swollen and red.
William stood up suddenly, the water sloshing wildly, and Buffy skidded backwards away from it. Dripping all over the floor and all over her, he pulled her to her feet, moulded her body against his, and kissed her hard and deep. She protested at first - he was completely soaking her - but it didn't last long, and before the kiss was broken Buffy found herself on her back on the bed.
"Stupid dress," she shoved it to the floor, and William laughed. He ran his hands up her legs, under her petticoats, cupped her bare bottom and stroked her thighs. She quivered under him and he laid a kiss on the soft flesh of her exposed breast.
His hand slipped around to finger the curls between her legs.
"My turn," he whispered, and Buffy flinched with pleasure as his finger slid between her wet folds. He stroked her gently, licking at her nipple, and she closed her eyes.
Then his head left her breast and his tongue darted out and licked her thigh, and Buffy found herself shaking with expectation.
When his tongue plunged inside her she let out a cry. "Oh, God that's good," and William smiled against her soft, slippery flesh. If she thought that was good, then he'd love to hear what she had to say next.
He moved his tongue up to her hard, swollen clitoris and flicked it gently. She moaned, and he was disappointed. Just a moan? He wanted words. He wanted praise. He wanted superlatives.
Gently, expertly, he began to make love to that little bundle of nerve endings, while Buffy writhed and heaved beneath him. Restricted by the corset, she was sucking in sharp breaths, little gasps of pleasure, letting out small whimpers.
Not good enough.
William frowned, and brought his hand back into play.
He slipped one finger inside her, then rapidly another, and was rewarded with a surprised, "Oh!"
Better, he thought. Now, where is it...?
He knew he'd found that sweet spot inside her when she let out a long, low moan. "Oh, God, William. That's-" her voice suddenly rose to a squeak, "that's so good!"
And? William thought, circling her clitoris with his tongue.
"That's - you're making me - oh my God!"
Her hands moved down to his head, clenched his skull through his hair, held him to her.
"Don't stop. Don't ever stop, William, Spike, Will - that's it!" she shrieked as he drove another finger inside her, curving them all towards her front, stroking her from the inside. "You're going to - make me - William - I can't - so good - harder - harder - that's - oh, yes! Oh, God, God, God - Will!"
Damn right, William thought as her salty wetness flooded his mouth. It's me down here, not Him.
He licked her a bit more, like an animal cleaning his mate, then lifted his head and looked at her. Her breasts rose and fell wildly. Her head was back, her hair spilled all over the pillows. Her eyes were closed.
"You still awake there?"
A small smile touched her bitten lips. "Not even sure if I'm still alive."
He grinned and moved back up her body, licking her nipple. She twitched and moaned softly. "Still alive," he said
"Oh. Good."
William grinned. "Did you enjoy that?" he asked politely, settling beside her.
Wordlessly, she nodded, her eyes opening and filling with gratitude. "That was amazing."
There was his superlative praise. William stretched like a cat, feeling smug.
"There is one problem, though," he said, and she looked startled.
"What?"
He took her hand and slid it down his stomach. Buffy looked down and saw how hard he was.
"Oh," she said. "Well, I suppose something must be done about that."
"I suppose so," he agreed. "What do you have in mind?"
Buffy looked back up at him, her eyes met his, and she smiled so wickedly William was almost afraid.
Almost.
Angel winced as something crashed against the floor above his head. "They better not be breaking my furniture," he grumbled.
"Why?" Cordelia said as she poured some wine in his glass. "You do it all the time."
"Yes, but-" he caught Darla's eye, and she was grinning. "It's still not the nicest of thoughts."
"What? Big bad Spike ravishing your tiny precious Buffy?" Darla said. "You need to stop being so jealous, my love."
"She's right," Cordelia said. "It's been years since you had Buffy."
"She's not yours any more."
"I know that," Angel said, irritated. "I just still don't like to think of her being - he's so - you know, he's just not gentle and-"
"He can be," Darla said, her eyes misting slightly. Cordelia looked very amused. Angel looked shocked.
"You - and William?"
"Who do you think called him Spike?"
"I thought that was an army nickname."
"Well, that's how it started," Darla purred.
Angel drained his wine. "I think I need another drink," he said.
William lay on his side, watching the girl beside him sleep, her hands up by her face, her curvy little backside pressed up against him. He had one arm wrapped around her, marvelling at the tight, flat muscles in her stomach. He should have guessed it from that. What kind of girl had muscles like that? Certainly not any of the ones he'd ever been with. There were soft girls, and plump girls, and skinny girls, and downright bony girls - like shagging a skeleton. Ugh. And then there was Buffy. His Lost One. Strong and hard and soft and beautiful.
He ran his hand over her hip and she snuggled against him, wriggling that luscious bottom, and Will sucked in a breath. Maybe that had been less of a good idea. Tight little Slayer bottom plus sensitive erectile flesh equaled wake-up time. For both of them.
He gently brushed the soft hair away from her neck and pressed his lips softly against the skin there. Another little wriggle, and a sigh this time, too. How awake was she?
He let his hand trail down from her neck to her breast and lazily stroke one soft pink nipple. Not soft for long though: it hardened deliciously under his fingers. And it wasn't the only thing getting harder. William shifted against her, nestling his growing erection in the hollow between her legs and buttocks, and ran his finger in a circle around her nipple. Probably the gentlemanly thing to do would be to roll away and take care of this by himself, but William had never really enjoyed being much of a gentleman.
He gently licked her earlobe and Buffy sighed again, her fingers clenching the pillow by her face. Encouraged, William nibbled her ear.
Buffy frowned lightly and wriggled her legs together. Will grinned. He could feel how hot she was getting down there. Hot and damp. Delicious.
He had one hand on one of her nipples, the other trapped under her head, and he was therefore terribly surprised to see another hand one Buffy's other breast.
Her own hand.
Oh God, this was nearly too much.
Much as the prospect excited him, William couldn't let himself slip inside her without her being fully awake. If she wasn't awake she couldn't consent, and if she couldn't consent then it was pretty much rape in William's book. And he didn't do rape. He'd never had to force a woman to do anything, and the thought of it made him dreadfully angry. And very sad.
So he whispered, "Buffy," in her ear, before he got carried away and woke her up slightly more unpleasantly. He brought his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. "Buffy... love..."
This time she made a little moan, and it sounded to Will's lust-addled brain like, "Spike..."
He nibbled her neck. She grabbed his hand and pushed it back down to her breast. William complied happily, stroking and kneading the soft flesh, the hard, taut nipple, feeling growing wetness seeping between her legs. She wasn't asleep any more. And she damn well wanted him.
Her own hand slipped down to part her thighs, touch her own flesh, and William had to close his eyes or he'd come right there and then. But then her fingers moved further back, brushing his hard throbbing-
"Oh God," he muttered, and rubbed himself against her. Buffy lifted her upper leg, parting her folds for him, inviting him in.
Grateful, desperate, he slid up inside her. God, she felt good. All hot and tight, slick and soft. Her little bottom nestled against his stomach and William's hand trailed to her hip, holding her back against him as he started to thrust slowly in and out of her.
It wasn't fast and hard and frantic like it had been before. Will was still pretty sleepy and he wasn't a hundred percent sure whether Buffy knew what she was doing, or if she thought she was dreaming. He was reasonably sure she was mostly awake.
Reasonably.
She was so soft and warm against him. Her hips moved in time with his, her hand at first over his, on her hip, and then moving further up, touching her own breast. Tentatively at first, then with more confidence, pinching and stroking the nipple. Will watched, enthralled, and then realised that her other hand was still down there, between her legs, stroking her own slick flesh.
It was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. And he'd been to Paris.
His hand slid down from her hip to cover her own wet fingers, stroking with her, and after a while her hand fell away, conceding to his own, much more skilled fingers. She reached back and gripped his hip, his buttock, pushing him deeper into her.
He knew he was hitting that sweet spot inside her, knew it even without her quickening breaths and bucking hips. He gently pinched her clitoris and she let out a silent gasp, tightening around him.
He did it again. Her fingers dug into his buttock.
He did it again. Her hand clenched her own breast.
This time Will syncronised his efforts, pinching and thrusting at the same time, his teeth inadvertently sinking into her shoulder. He was rewarded with a sucked in breath, so sharp it was nearly a shriek, and her muscles convulsing around him.
Relaxing his grip on her, he contritely licked the place he'd bitten her and rocked her harder, still thrusting inside her. He was getting closer, faster, no longer sleepy and gentle. She still held him to her, still tight around him, and it didn't take long for him to fall over the edge, spurting into her, hot and hard.
They lay still for a few moments, both breathing hard, and it occurred to William that neither of them had said a word since he slipped inside her. In fact, apart from those few tentative enquiries, they hadn't spoken at all.
Her eyes were still closed.
"Buffy," he said softly, and she sighed and wriggled against him again.
"That's the nicest wake-up call I can ever remember," she mumbled sleepily.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Will laughed softly, bringing his arm up to hold her by the waist again, pulling her against him, soft and warm and delightful.
"As it was intended."
"Mmm," he nuzzled her neck.
"Will," she broke the embrace, pulling away from him, cold air rushing in to take her place, "what time is it?"
He shrugged lazily, stretching out like a cat. "Dunno, love." He glanced at the long windows, where he could see the glow of the moon. The lamps they'd lit earlier had all burned down low by now, filling the room with a soft, seductive light. "Probably pretty late. We both slept for a while."
Buffy listened. "I think everyone's gone to sleep."
"Probably," he agreed, watching her as she ran her fingers through her somewhat tangled hair. She should always have her hair like that, he decided. Loose and tousled, to frame her slightly flushed face, bitten lips, drowsy eyes. She got up and went over to the windows, glancing at the moon before she pulled the curtains to, stretching out those clever little muscles of hers, the velvet of the drapes brushing the velvet of her skin, her lean thighs, her soft breasts, her curvy little rear...
God, she was making him hard again.
"Come back to bed, love," he held out an arm, and she looked back at him, lithe and tempting in the moonlight.
"What will they think?" she whispered, pulling the last curtain closed.
"Who?"
"Angel, and Darla. We just... We ran up here, hours ago, and now-"
Will laughed. "I really don't think they'll be too fussed, love," he said, and Buffy remembered Cordelia saying how Angel and Darla usually hardly got out of bed. Her cheeks flushed. "You look... so beautiful," William added in a low, husky voice, and Buffy felt her hard nipples tighten just a little bit more.
She ran back to the bed and fastened her lips to his. "You too," she mumbled against his mouth, and her hands were already exploring his beautiful body.