The road goes ever on
He's the light in her fridge, (10/10) by dutchbuffy2305
Pairing: Faith/Spike
Rating: R
Author's note: Sequel to His voice is like a Mars-bar
Author's website:
Feedback: Yes, please, to dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk
It's kinda weird, but they haven't fucked yet since Dawn left. Hardly an hour has gone by without them touching, but it's been all kissing and holding hands. Faith knows she's the one holding it off, but she's feeling almost shy and very horny by now. The very idea of fucking gains an importance it hasn't had for some time. When they get home from patrol, having blissfully shed the gang on the way home, she decides there is gonna be no more waiting. Spike wouldn't be Spike, however, if he wasn't already there waiting for her.
He grabs her hand and kisses the palm, which makes Faith feel special, like a lady.
"You're my girl," he says.
Faith wishes very hard that it's true, or that she can make it come true. "Are you my guy? Only for me?" she asks, although she hadn't planned to beg for it.
"Only yours. I'll make you feel it," Spike says, like guys do.
She lets him push her to the couch and sits down. He holds her hands over her head, which is fine by her, it's sort of fitting that he's doing all the work for a bit. She'll play along until she thinks of something better. No part of his body is touching her, just his big hand easily holding her two smaller ones imprisoned. He smiles at her, contemplating her face so intently, his blue eyes dark in the dimly lit room that she's creaming her pants and arches off the couch, aching to touch him.
"Uh-huh," Spike shakes his head. "Not yet. Gotta look at you first."
He skims a finger over both her eyebrows, from her nose to her temple, and then back to travel down the bridge of her nose. Faith half closes her eyes in bliss. His knuckles slide over her cheeks, just barely touching the down on her skin. He blows a soft breath over her lips and as she opens her mouth to capture his, he backs away an inch or so and brushes his soft lips against her mouth. Faith relaxes and stops trying to get at his tongue. She's rewarded with a tantalizing finger flicking the base of her thumb and a real kiss, his tongue slipping in so slowly, dipping in so gently over her own it's almost torture.
"You're beautiful, looking so good I could eat you…"
Faith's breath hitches as a terrible idea is born, blooming like a desert flower after the first meager drop of rain. She opens her eyes and he's looking down on her like a cat licking his chops and she moans, she want to be his canary. He narrows his eyes for a second and he breathes in. She's so focused upon him that the slightest of his movements sets off a shiver deep in her belly.
"Keep your hands like that," Spike says, and Faith does.
He slides her T-shirt over her head slowly, making it a caress. Faith is already floating on wavelets of pleasure rippling away from his fingers. Spike bends over her breast, that she can't help thrusting up in his face and closes his mouth over her right nipple through her bra. Hot shoots of pleasure flower from her breast to her pussy and she opens her legs. Spike presses them firmly back together with his knees and that is good too.
Spike sucks harder on her nipple and she can't stop wriggling and arching her hips towards his, succeeds in humping the bulge in his jeans. Spike breathes in harshly, she loves hearing him breathe and loose control like that, but he bats away her hands as she tries to undo his fly buttons. He opens up her own pants with slow teasing fingers, smiling evilly at her writhing and moaning. He slides her pants halfway down her thighs, so that her legs are bound, and bites down hard in the crease of her hip. It's so hot that Faith almost faints with straining her hip in the direction of his mouth, but he holds her down easily with one hand. The other one fondles his cock through his jeans, something Faith wants to be doing. At last he relents and gets off her jeans, and his own.
"What do you want?" she says, lying there splayed open before him, everything in full view, hot and throbbing and waiting for him. She's his cream dish, she's waiting for the lapping to start.
"Everything," he says starkly.
"So do I."
She wriggles out of his slackening grasp and walks to the kitchen. Her breast jiggle with every step, they feel heavy and taut with desire, the lips of her pussy swollen with heat, brushing against her thighs as she walks. She comes back with the steak knife. Spike frowns when he sees it.
"Don't want you to cut yourself, baby," he says.
"I won't," Faith answers and lays the blade flat against his smooth white neck. The flesh cringes and puckers into goose bumps. "I'm gonna mark you."
His cock slaps against his belly. She pushes him on his knees in front of the couch and sits down in before him, wrapping her legs around him. She slides him in with her hand, and he falls forward with a groan, clenching his abs hard, his face against her neck, which is just where she wants him.
"Okay, honey," she says softly, very sure what she's gonna do now.
She puts her heels against the couch and her hands on his shoulders, loosely dangling the knife in her right. She gets good leverage like that and she wriggles until his cock hits just the right spot and works them both up until she's on the brink and Spike is closing and opening his hands rhythmically on her arms. The smell of her own arousal is overpowering in her nose, shellfish and raw beef. She brings up the knife and slices through the skin, near but not on the big artery, she hopes. Spike moans between clenched teeth but doesn't come. He sucks the big tendon on her side of her neck hard, shuddering against her.
"Do it, Spike, bite me," Faith says. "I want you to."
Spike shakes his head against her sweaty skin, no. She thought he'd say that and brings down her lips on the superficial cut she made in his skin and sucks hard. Images slam into her at roaring speed, black red roses black old woman dark girl Angel girl dark girl blond girl Buffy Anya Buffy Faith Buffy Dawn, making her gasp with the pain of knowing, running blood spouting tearing devouring black red blood spatters fucking drinking draining killing red blood fuck her, she springs, brings down the prey, her teeth break the skin, she's sucking the life blood out, she's Spike, she's not, she's Faith again. Spike's chest goes up and down like a bellows and she hears the creaking tearing sound of his vampire face, which he almost never shows her. She lifts her wet face for a moment to say, "Come on, take it. fucking do it! Show me I'm yours."
He bites, convulsing in orgasm immediately after and so does Faith. It hurts, but as she thought, the blood and the pain and the bite transport her to a whole different plane of orgasm, which goes on an on, knife sharp and thin like a scream.
She must have blacked out, because when she opens her eyes she's lying in bed, on her back, feeling lightheaded and strange. It can't have been long though, because she still feels the all-over tingle of a recent coming and now that she thinks of it she quivers in another little spasm. Spike is bent over her, his mouth bloody, his eyes glazed with lust and something like pain. His face may be uncertain, but his cock is dark purple and straining against his belly.
Faith hauls up her rubbery knees with her arms; they don't seem to want to work on their own. "Fuck me, baby. I need you."
Spike is beyond words, she guesses, and he places a thick pillow under her hips and pushes in silently. Her hands feel numb and clumsy, but she lifts them up and fingers the oozing bite wound in her neck. It really happened. He must have taken a lot, because she's feeling woozy and overheated. She holds up her hand to look at the blood. Spike moans in agony and turns his head away. His muscles are rock hard and quivering in his legs and belly, like cables under the skin in his neck and shoulders, he's looking like he's about to explode. His face works and he shakes his head, fighting against he vampire mask that threatens to slip down his face at every thrust into her slippery pussy.
Faith's heart flutters and hastens on, arousal and fear mingling until her skin feels too tight like a sausage, if she's pricked she'll burst, and oh god, she does. Spike's eyes roll up in his head and he half sinks down her, carefully on her unmarked side, but then he stiffens again and continues to pump on blindly.
His eyes look through at her and he growls deep in his throat. His teeth grind against each other and she's so getting off on this. She's weak, she can't defend herself, if he loses it he could drain her dry, this is what she wants, to be all his. She doesn't really want to die, or be a vamp, even if she could be with him for eternity, but it's the danger of it all, it's the hottest thing she's ever done, dancing on the edge of the blade until her feet are bloody.
She closes her eyes as another orgasm burns through her. Her pussy is in exquisite agony, his cock velvet sandpaper rubbing bare nerves, and she's shaking and shuddering like a broken wind-up toy. Won't be long before she blacks out again.
She puts her hand on his chest, accidentally brushing his nipple and Spike's head whips back and he roars like a lion in full game face. She spasm helplessly against him, his rock hard cock driving on down.
"Spike," she says, and her voice is small and strained.
"Faith," he answers.
That's good, he still knows it's her. His eyes come back from wherever they were and look at her, his eyes screwed up with the effort of not letting go. His head comes down slowly, warily, a predator bending his head to the pool to drink, and he laps with his unexpectedly rough tongue at her neck in one long, slow stroke. Faith twangs like a releasing catapult and loses herself again for a few moments. When she she's back they're bucking against each other, groaning rhythmically. His teeth are not in her throat, they're clenched shut against her cheek, and she's both relieved and sorry.
It's getting to be too much, too good. She knows she could go on coming, but she's really sore now. She pushes against Spike's chest and he looks confused, and after a long pause manages to wrench out of her and rolls sideways on the bed, his back turned to her. He doubles up, groaning, and lies there shivering.
Faith carefully puts her hand on his shoulder blade. "Spike. What do you need?"
"Something I don't want," he says in a muffled voice.
She's so glad he doesn't really want to kill her, she knew that, she trusts him. She uncoils him gently and takes him in her mouth. He feels hot, from her blood she thinks with pride, even if it wasn't a wise move, and she tries to get him off quickly, working him as fast as she can leaning on her spaghetti arms. It doesn't seem to help yet. He comes, and relaxes for seconds, but then is up and panting for it again. She sucks and jerks him off until she drops, far from pleasure by now, and at last she collapses beside him.
Before she falls asleep she opens one heavy eye to check on him. He's lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, breathing evenly. He still radiates warmth.
She wakes early, when it's still dark. Spike is lying against her, limp, his fingers loosely curled in her hair. She stirs, and he opens his eyes lazily.
"Bloody hell, Faith."
His mouth is the only thing that moves. He looks tired and satisfied, and Faith's cheeks fall in a smile, slack from happiness. She still tingles all over and her muscles ache. It was good. It could have gone wrong completely, but it was so good, the risk is what made it good. She broke him a little bit, but he heals right back up, and now she knows he'll go this far for her. She made it happen.
The next time she wakes up she looks straight into Spike's eyes, which are their daylight blue. He's lying on one elbow, smiling at her. He tucks a strand of hair out of her face and Faith rubs her face against his hand. The bed's a mess, sheets streaked with blood and come, and so is Spike's face and neck. There is no blood on her breasts, so guess who licked it off?
Spike slides his knee between her legs against her ass and hauls her up to him. Her breasts snuggle into his hand. Faith strokes his face, too full of feeling to speak.
"Good morning, love. How are you feeling?"
Now that he mentions it, crap. She's sore all over, and very thirsty, with an awful taste in her mouth. She butts her feverish forehead again his, she doesn't want to leave the bed now. How are they? Has something changed after what they did? She touches the crusted wound on her neck, and then Spike's thin red stripe of a scar.
"Was it good for you?" she asks hesitantly.
Spike's smile is crooked, and he runs an absent hand up and down her thigh, making her shiver with the beginnings of arousal.
"It was brilliant, sweetheart. Risky, that, playing with vamps and knives. Don't try it again. Having a soul means bugger all to a vamp once he's got his teeth in your neck."
He bites his lip and kisses her, his hands noticeable warm still around her as cheeks. Faith is not sure what he means. He didn't kill her, she knew he wouldn't. She wants to ask more but he presses her face down in the pillows and starts to massage away the knots and aches she feels everywhere. He always knows how she feels, and she always has to guess about him. He'll have to tell her. She opens her mouth to speak, but he whispers against her neck, "Love you".
It's a good thing that her face is invisible, because, you know, crying makes you ugly and he said she was beautiful. He turns her muscles into sweetest pudding with his skillful kneading, and when he pushes up her butt, knowing thumbs in her pussy and ass, she's ready for him. He holds her close from behind, as tight as you should hold someone you love, and licks her wound again, which makes her more certain she did the right thing last night. This must be love.
*
Business seems back to normal. Spring has arrived everywhere but in Cleveland, and the demons keep on coming. So there Faith is, as usual, slogging through a snowy Eternal Gloaming, tailing a coupla guys her radar tells her are demons. She and Spike are lagging behind, on the pretext of overseeing the others, but it's more a case of keeping Kennedy and him apart. Kennedy, Clem and Morgan are sneaking up on the targets, who have become the focus of the latest batch of the research & gossip soup Morgan and Clem have cooked up. From the back they don't much look like demons. The shorter one is dressed in Salvation Arm's finest, style circa 1984, the other one in gleaming too big sports duds. It's only when his tail comes out and scratches his butt that it's obvious he's not some homeboy dealing drugs in a really isolated spot.
"So how come you didn't get me the season ticket for the Browns, man?" the shorter demon whines. "You promised, you owe me." He dives into his giant crackling bag of snacks and stuffs some in his mouth.
"I know, I know," the taller one says and scratches furiously. "But, you know, Harry, Betty had to have braces and then Wade needed glasses, so I just don't have it right now. You gotta give me time."
His hands scrabble in the bag for a handful of chips. His tail whips spirals over his head and then dips down to his butt again. Faith is kind of glad he doesn't eat with his tail, because, ew.
"Yeah, you think I don't know about Luanne's egg sac implants, huh?" Harry grouches. "Trying to pass as human, on my money? It ain't fucking fair, dude!"
They sound so ordinary, so human. Can they really just go kill these guys? Faith signals Kennedy and looks at Spike.
Spike lifts his hands. "What?" he whispers.
Faith motions him closer. "We don't need to kill these guys. They're just…people."
Spike bends over and retrieves a fallen chip. "Oh yeah?" he says and holds it close to Faith's face for inspection.
It's a human ear, baked crisp and brown, with a clear bite taken out of it. Faith gets it. She nods to Kennedy and the little team runs after the still squabbling, eating pair with their axes ready.
The demons don't put up as much of a struggle as Faith hoped. The guys could get in a rut that way, if they don't get enough of a challenge on a regular basis. They hide the bodies in their usual tomb. You'd expect it to be pretty full by now, but there must be some kind of demon clean up squad, or just plain scavengers, because there is always room for their disposals.
The successful trio trudge back to Spike and Faith. Faith's boots are leaking. She musta paid twenty dollar for the fuckers, and only five months service. Spike is still holding up the ear, studying it intently, sniffs it, and then decisively moves it to his mouth and takes a bite. Faith hurtles towards him and knocks the remainder out of his hand.
"Are you out of your mind? Spit it out!"
Spike obeys, laughing. Faith does not find it funny. "Dude, how can you do that? You're supposed to be reformed, and it's just plain fucking gross even if the owner is already dead!"
"Yeah, well, when the owner was still happily clinging to his mother root in the moist earth he must have hated the idea of being eaten. It's potato, Faith. Sorry."
Faith is still pissed. "Sorry? I'll make you sorry! We just let them kill two perfectly harmless beings!"
"Hell, no! They were dealers, sweetheart. Corrupting demon youth with their magic powders. We did the demon community a service. And besides, we can't keep second guessing Clem and Kennedy, Faith. They gotta know we trust them to do their job."
Spike is right. Kennedy is a Slayer in her own right, and should long have had a territory of her own. Clem's an ancient demon, and Morgan has twice the brains Spike and Faith have between them. They don't need her supervision.
*
The next night they're all eating their pre-patrol pizza. Faith gets up to get some more Coke, but when she's in the kitchen she still feels cooped up so she sneaks outside to join Spike who's smoking on the porch. The gang inside shows no break in the fun without them. The sky is the usual Cleveland whitish gray, already turning vaguely purple in the west.
Spike looks up from his moody stare and Faith holds up her finger. "Listen. What's that sound?"
A million little tinkles and poppings sound all around her. The air feels soft and yielding against her face, even though it isn't as nice and sunny as yesterday.
Spike molds his body against her back and fastens his hands across her belly. "It's spring," his voice pours chocolate down her neck. "The ice is melting."
A gang of big fat birds streak on by overhead, on their way to the lake. They make the ugliest, most un-bird like sounds Faith has ever heard.
From inside the house irregular snatches of soft talk and occasional laughter can be heard.
"They sound happy, don't they?" Spike says.
"Yeah."
They do. Faith is proud of them. They slayed pretty good last night, and the sleuthing out of the Willy/Clem consortium, even if it turned out not to be completely correct, was awesome. And now it's just about perfect, she and Spike standing out here quietly by themselves, not really listening to the others and letting the sounds be white noise. When it gets dark in half an hour or so, they'll go slay again. It would be nice to patrol again with just Spike. Well, why not? Kennedy can handle herself.
The unspoken question whether they themselves are happy still hangs unanswered in the air.
"Spike? Let's go patrol alone tonight?" Faith says. "It's been too long."
"Brilliant idea, love. Why wait?" Spike says without moving an inch, and sliding his hands down her pants.
"Coz the sun ain't down yet?" Faith says, and leans back more heavily on Spike. He's got her.
They just stand there, seeing the sunset color the melting remnants of snow a brief pink before the whole cloudy sky turns lilac and the street lights in the distance wink on. Time glides by without noticing and she only comes out of her dreamy content when it's completely dark.
"Let's go."
They walk hand in hand to the bike and Spike rides in front, Faith snuggling closely against his black leather back.
"Happy Hunting Grounds or Twilight Rest?"
"The longest ride," Faith says.
Spike turns his head to show white teeth at her. The bike starts up with a cough and they skid on the gravel for a moment before they enter the black even flow of the road. The world starts sliding by faster and faster, a blur of malls and factories and parking lots, decorated with festive stripes of fluorescent lettering that is smeared into illegibility by their passing.
In a few moments they will have to turn off for Twilight Rest, but Faith doesn't want the world to slow down and come into focus. It's just perfect the way it is right now, she and her man sitting motionless on the bike while everything else passes them by.
"Spike? Let's just ride on? I wanna go somewhere warm, and just us."
The view stutters but then speeds up its flow past them.
"We're already heading south, baby, we'll just go on then. What about the others?" Spike asks.
"They'll be okay by themselves, without us hanging over their little shoulders. I just wanna be with you, okay?"
Spike writes a loopy poem of happiness on the road and they hurtle on into the black maw of the night.
FINIS