"For fuck's sake." Spike cursed, slamming his fist against the crypt wall. He downed his drink, dropping the glass carelessly back onto the stone sarcophagus.
He wanted to know why she did this to him, why she was so teasing, so mocking. He loved her in all her glory but he hated her, too, deep down. The way she treated him was...
Like somethin' she scraped off her shoe. Spike told himself bitterly.
He glanced at his abandoned glass, then just gulped down the liquid straight from the bottle.
She deserves her sodding perfect Slayer ass whipped. He thought, then wished he hadn't. He remembered how perfect she was, how amazing, she was like liquid, cool and smooth, with fluid movements, a dark goddess...
He punched the wall again, as a displacement activity. He wished that this wouldn't happen, but it did, every night after patrolling he would slam the crypt door behind him, her cocky quips echoing in his ears. Then he would sit and tease himself like this, knowing it was wrong, knowing that she hated him...He stood up, throwing the bottle onto the floor-the glass shattered. He pulled on his coat again and left the crypt, the door banging behind him.
Buffy was quiet at dinner. She played with a few forkfuls of salad, then left the table, saying that she felt sick.
Patrolling that night had been especially bad. Spike had told her, again, three little words, and yet again she had thrown it back in his face. The look of pain that had flashed across his features before he had left was haunting her.
She shut and locked the bathroom door behind her, and ran a shower.
Does Spike shower? She had wondered. He has to. It's like every time I see him he smells of soap...
He did. He had that perfection, that grace, that way that he murmured not-so-sweet-nothings straight into her ear, his unnecessary breath tickling her skin.
She shuddered, unable to stop the first prickles of desire creeping up her spine. She undressed quickly and stepped underneath the warm water. She let the water beat down on her shoulders heavily, sighing with relief, before getting lost in her thoughts again. She pictured Spike in the shower, the hot water giving his cool skin the illusion of warmth, his shoulders, his stomach, his... She stopped thinking forcibly, grabbing the shower gel.
Spike arrived at her house. He knew it was a risk to knock at the door, so he checked her window...
Locked.
Annoyed, he looked around to find another way to gain entrance.
There wasn't one. He sighed, braced himself, and walked confidently to the front door, telling himself that he didn't care what Red or the Nibblet said, he was getting in the house to see Buffy if it was the last thing he did.
Before he'd even raised his fist to knock, Dawn threw the door open.
"Come in, Spike. She's in her room." She said, grinning at him and moving to let him pass. He walked up the stairs, watched by Dawn, who smiled widely from the bottom of the stairs.
Buffy heard the door open, she heard Dawn talking, and the door closed.
Probably that charity group again. She thought. She turned the water off reluctantly and stepped out of the shower with a towel around her head. Rummaging in the washing basket for her pajamas, she found her pathetic loveheart pajama bottoms and a pink camisole, which was thankfully clean. She studied her reflection critically as she rubbed cream into tonights bruises on her upper arm, and she left the bathroom.
"Spike." Buffy said, shocked, as she spotted the vampire on the landing. She waited for him to go through his customary "Well well well, what do we have here?" routine, but he was temporarily speechless. "I was...uh...having a shower." She said apologetically, gesturing at her clothes.
"Buffy." He managed to croak, then coughed. "It's okay." He added.
More than okay. He thought, and cursed himself inwardly.
"Nibblet let me in. Said you'd be in your room, so I just..."
"It's fine, she didn't know I was..." Buffy said. Spike moved closer to her, and her resolve wavered. "I'm sorry, Spike."
"S'kay, luv." Spike said, locking her gaze with his, he ran a finger down her bare arm. She brought her hand up to his face, and kissed him gently, her desire for him larger that her self restraint. He returned the kiss, and she pressed herself against him as she explored his mouth with her tongue. She felt him growl, and his erection pressed into her, causing her to moan. Her hand wandered across Spike's stomach, slowly moving downwards.
Spike trapped her hand and broke away. Buffy complained at this loss of touch, but let him lead her into her room.
"Fuck." Spike murmured before they collapsed onto her bed. He slipped his hand into her pajama bottoms and traced her entrance, pushing a finger into her. She moaned, and before she knew it her pajamas were on the floor. He pushed his finger into her until she was writhing and moaning beneath him, about to reach a climax. She flipped him over before he could finish, tugging at his clothes, wanting to feel his skin on hers, all the time never stopping kissing him. He flipped her over again, tugging at her nipples until they were erect. She moaned, trying to pull him into her, wanting to feel him inside her. He wanted to keep this moment, but his desire stopped him, and he entered her with swift strokes. They climaxed together and rolled off the bed, panting.
Buffy couldn't feel her legs. She ached, but it felt amazing.
"Fuck." Spike said again, "Buffy, you are fuckin' fantastic." He paused. "I love you."
"I love you too." She whispered into his chest. "I've never felt so...It's like I'll never feel like that again."
Spike raised an eyebrow and kissed her again, passionately.
He certainly didn't feel that way...
(Okay, so I said I didn't write sex. But who cares! I hope you all get that last bit...Oh, never mind. I'm sorry if you found this gross and badly written, but I enjoyed writing it!
Squish
Cat
