Friends (Or More)
By Sweetprincipale
Part XI
Sociology class came and went. So did they, back to his crypt, fingers twining as they scurried through the grass, hiding under his duster together, even though Buffy didn't need to fear the sun. Laughing between kisses, they stumbled inside and didn't even bother with the chair in the upper level. Spike stalked to the trap door, kicked up the rug, and kicked off the stone slab.
Their eyes met as he stood on one side of the door and she slowly joined him.
Buffy's stomach tensed in a combination of arousal and nerves. I want to be with him. Feel him inside. I'm a Slayer, I'm not supposed to be nervous!
"You're eighteen. You're allowed to be nervous. I'm… old. And I'm nervous." Some part of him was still that shy virgin who'd only made love with Dru and who'd suffered all sorts of humiliation and abuse at the hands of Angelus. Funny how their pasts were fairly similar. She'd been a shy virgin once, and Angelus had put her through all sorts of horrific tortures as well, just the emotional sort. As the more experienced and more evil partner, he didn't want to ruin anything for Buffy. She deserved the best.
"Nervous?" Buffy squeaked. Clearly nervous-sounding much?
"Oh. Not that there's anything to have nerves about," Spike hastily amended, kicking himself for projecting his own fears. Off to a grand start, aren't you?
Buffy licked her lips. "Right. Right. Just dry runs. Showing how much we want, l-love each other." Her mind fumbled through lustful thoughts and hindering fears. Shouldn't say the L-word. Felt like I would burst if I didn't.
Yeah, and look how that feeling turned out before.
She'd wanted to show Angel how much she loved him before he left. She wanted to show Parker how over the past she was, how brave she was being. Today, this weird, almost supernatural push to confess her love to Spike had taken hold.
Hasty moves seemed to backfire.
"Wanna hear my idea?" Spike whispered, stepping closer, coming to join her.
"Mmhmm." She breathed out, breathed him in, the scent of his skin, smoky and sweet, a nip of metal and whisky in the mix.
"We don't make love today, jus' 'cause there might be something strange in the air. Don't want to find out that by consummatin' with the woman I love I accidentally turn her into a frog or something."
Buffy giggled. "I wonder if you'd be a pale, blonde, undead frog?"
"Let's not find out," he growled playfully.
"So, what do we do instead?" Buffy asked, feeling his hardness jut into her backside.
Spike shrugged. "Snuggle up and kiss. I don't care if some blokes would say that doesn't sound exciting, that was 'cause for mothers to faint back in my day! 'Specially if the couple was alone, in the gentleman's private quarters."
"How come when you use big words and go all 'proper gentleman' it's hot and when Giles does it, I have to fight the urge for a nap?" Buffy pondered, very much relieved by his suggestion.
"'Cause you think I'm sexy and he's not," Spike declared easily.
She couldn't really argue.
Knowing that they were not going to indulge themselves completely in pleasures of the flesh added another layer for Spike. The tease, the pursuit, the wooing… he liked that. Didn't want to rush her. Wanted her to give herself as a gift at just the right time.
The urge to unwrap that gift was making him stiff and strained. He wondered if that would scare his Slayer off.
"Oh. Ohh," Buffy's surprised noise turned into a longing one as she pressed into his arms. Her hands went tracing down his chest, landing on his slim hips. She watched him smile through a hiss of pleasure—or was it pain?
Spike should not be so sexy all the time. Everything his mouth did made her knees go wobbly today.
Says sweet things. Kisses. Whatever the hell that look just was when I— ooh. Got it. Pleasurable pain. Poor baby. Buffy ran her hand lightly over the bulge against her middle and watched him make another exquisite grimace. "I don't want that to hurt."
"It doesn't." Spike moved her hand, capturing it and kissing it. "Don't think on it, Luv."
"But I want to think on it…" Buffy bit her bottom lip as she looked up at him with wide green eyes.
Curse her soft little voice and that perfect mouth and those curious, pleading eyes. Spike let out a groan. "Thought we didn't want to rush?" he reminded her with a last-ditch effort to be noble.
"Don't want to rush. Wanna go slow. Slow, sexy snuggles." Buffy rested her chin on his chest, still studying his handsome face, all lines and angles. Do people ever just spend time loving one another, touching each other? Won't the guy want more? Or less? When she and Angel had tried that, post-cursed-no-soul-thing, he acted like it was torture. Maybe Spike would feel the same? "Maybe that's not a good idea," Buffy backed out of his arms as the trapdoor ladder loomed.
"I promise not to bite." Well, unless she wants me to…
"Other guys didn't like this part." Buffy prepared to launch into a litany of reasons why she was acting this way.
He cut her off, "I'm not other guys. And they're idiots. That's on them, not on you."
She squinted her eyes at him suddenly, as if peering at a cryptic equation. Her eyes widened. Problem solved. "Yep. I love you."
"I love— ooh." Spike lost his powers of speech.
The Slayer had just undone the button on his jeans.
"This is different than the first time I brought you down here," Buffy slid down the ladder after Spike and found herself instantly whisked up in his arms. It's a fairytale moment. I thought Angel was my fairytale, all the big fated-love stuff. No happy ending. I think I'd rather have a rocky ride in the beginning and end up somewhere good instead of vice versa.
"Yeah, that first time you had to carry me. Now, I can carry you." He whirled her, amazed that something so strong could feel so light. His pretty puzzle. Creature of night, made of sunlight. Sworn enemy, true friend. Slayer scent that made his fangs itch, and the natural smell of her skin that made all of him ache. "Love to carry you. Touch you…" Fuck, whatever was affecting him was only getting stronger the more she was around him, the more she breathed against him, holding him tight. Marks me, owns me. Unconsciously, he nuzzled his head into her neck and sighed deeply, comforted.
Buffy ran her fingers through his hair, cradling his head to her. Sexy-times aren't supposed to be so sweet and soft, are they? Her body was confused, but only for a moment. This is Spike. It's supposed to feel just like it feels. "You swept me off my feet. Now what?" She pressed her lips to his ear.
"Well, in fairytales, the prince— What?"
"Nothing. I like fairytales. I miss them," Buffy confessed with a tiny smile. He thinks like me.
"The prince sweeps the princess off to the castle and the book closes. Never get to see what the prince does once he gets her alone."
"Half of the time, the princess never laid eyes on this guy before some random dance." Buffy pointed out as Spike sat on the edge of the bed. She nestled her hips into his lap and felt the hard bulge again, and watched his face spasm in pleasure.
"So, they ought to go slow."
"Mmhm." Her voice was coming out high and breathless, but the nerves were fading, replaced by excitement. Slow. Her fingers traced his chest as they reclined together. His fingers danced across her ribs, up to her breast and down to her waist, playing her skillfully, drawing sounds from her that she'd never made. Raw, longing, sounds. Frankly—horny sounds.
Spike bit her shoulder softly, fangs firmly away. Not fair. Sweet, innocent-ish Slayers shouldn't make sounds that would make a monk drop his drawers.
"Oooh. Hungry?" Buffy suddenly asked.
"No." Well, yes. "Not hungry like that," Spike denied.
"You said it felt good, during…"
He was going to ruin his trousers and it was all her fault. "The things you say… the sounds you make… no one pushes all my buttons the way you do, Luv."
"No one made me feel the way you do. Like it's safe to be myself, no worries." Buffy stretched, her arching back pushing her breasts forward. Spike's hand slid up her shirt, pushing it over her bra. He clamped his mouth down gently over the lacey cup and tongued her nipple through the fabric, suckling her breast until she gasped and her pussy bucked and jumped.
Spike smelled a hot rush of wetness. "Sweet Slayer." So ready for me. Yet, not ready for me. We have to stop before we cross that line. Just to prove that I make promises and keep 'em. That she can trust me.
But still. "Buffy?"
"Hm?" her voice was vague and foggy, eyes dilated in pleasure.
"I'd never do anything you didn't like, sweetheart."
"I know."
"Mind if we get more comfortable? Feelin' a bit confined over here."
"Only if you let me kiss it better," Buffy giggled in the same love-drunk voice.
"What?" Spike blinked and stopped his pursuit of his denim prison.
"Oh. I said that out loud?" Buffy blushed.
He chuckled. "You're cute."
"I meant it. I think. It's all smushed in there. I— I—" Buffy's explanation died away as her hand met his and pushed the zipper down to reveal a bulging length, hard and pale, swollen at the tip. There was an angry red line where the metal teeth of the zipper had pressed him.
She blinked suddenly, some unbidden image coming to her mind. Drusilla had been hurting him for "fun." Their games included claws and blades. She wondered suddenly, protectively, how badly hurt he'd been the night they first reconnected. Was this piece of him spared? She had a feeling Spike wouldn't want to think of those old worries and pains now. Only make him think good thoughts. Happy ending thoughts. "Let me kiss it?"
Spike's jaw popped open. "Kiss my—?"
"Is that not okay?" Buffy suddenly looked mortified.
"No! That's the best sort of gift one lover can give to another. 'Lip service' doesn't bring the giver physical pleasure." Well, it was a turn on, so it could, but sensory wise… "It's an act of the heart and mind."
"That's deep." She hadn't expected this to be deep. It was instinctive. Well, instincts run deep.
"Had a lot of time with selfish people," he mumbled with a shrug. He'd thought it was good, what he and Dru had, at least when they were alone. That was the problem. They were never really alone. Dru had too many voices in her head to find herself, to find "unselfish" after Darla and Angelus molded her so painfully. Not that Dru didn't perform such acts of love— it was all about tormenting him, driving him to the edge, or wanting him to demand it. A cross between Darla's methods and Angelus's brutality. He shuddered.
"Shhh. No sad thoughts. You… make me happy. I wanna make you happy," Buffy whispered cupping his tight jaw, stroking the dark furrows from his brow.
"Didn't mean to get in my head," Spike shrugged. Safe with her. Safe to retreat inside, because there are no nasty surprises waiting on the outside. No howling madness. Not Dru's fault. He thought of her with fading fondness, as if she'd been gone for a surprisingly long time. "They say Slayer blood has healing power."
Buffy nodded, twisting her head to the side, lifting her blonde hair further from her neck.
The gesture awed him and sent the darkness fleeing. "I was just thinkin'... you healed my broken and scraped up bits, but I think you did more than that. Think you mended a lot of the painful bits up here." he tapped his temple gently. "Down here." Fingers traced over his heart. "Well… now that I say it aloud… don't think it's jus' the blood. Think it's all of you."
All of me. All of him. Buffy fell into a kiss-saturated haze, rocking against him as clothes slid off, mind a free, relaxed blank.
Yeah. This has to be a spell. There's no pain. No guilt. Feel safe. Happy. Loved.
It's Spike.
Well, duh, only he could make me feel this good.
I felt this way before today. I just wouldn't have told him for a really long time, in case that made everything go kablooie. Maybe whatever's going on isn't like a "bewitching spell." Maybe it's a "Don't waste time spell."
Or again… maybe it's just because it's Spike. Everything seems different.
His kisses were proving her point. Angel kissed her mouth, her neck, her shoulders. Parker was the same. Spike kissed everywhere.
Everywhere.
Breasts.
Belly.
Hip.
Knees.
Calves.
Ankles.
"You have such delicate little ankles," he stopped to mutter admiringly, stroking them with feather light touches. "How do they manage to put demon scum through brick walls with one kick?"
She moaned an answer as his tongue flitted over her inner thigh.
Whoa. What's happening? "Wait," Buffy rolled onto her side, nearly kneeing him in the nose.
He waited, easing down next to her, hands in her hair. "Not yet?"
"Not yet," Buffy whispered, kissing his lips softly. She skimmed her hand over his side. So pretty. All creamy muscle and marbling veins. With a sigh, she let her lips go on a tour, a happy meandering series of nibbles and licks finding their way to—
"Hang on! You just said not yet!" Spike gasped as her lips made contact with a certain spot.
"I know. Because you go first. Because I said it first."
"But—"
"And I'm the Slayer. And I win?"
Well. He didn't like to argue with his friend.
Her head bobbed down.
His much more than a friend.
But you promised. "Slayer. Buffy. This—oh, bloody hell…"
"What?"
"This isn't a very dry dry run," he pointed out, almost whimpering as she kissed a sensitive spot just below his navel.
"Things have been wet around you for days," she confessed carelessly. "We said kisses and cuddles. I'm kissing." She kissed another sensitive spot. "I'm cuddling." Her cheek burrowed into the sparse hairs surrounding his stiffness.
"You're tempting me. I wanted to make sure everything went slow, and there you are, revving—fuck—the engine." Spike moaned as her palm wrapped around him and pumped, the engine revved indeed.
"You were doing the same thing to my engine,' Buffy pointed out with a smirk.
"Yeah, but I promise, I was going to be… gentlemanly about it." A single kiss. On her sweet little slit, or her curls. And just a tiny little swipe with his tongue. His cock leapt against her hand, betraying him. "I was going to try my best," he sighed. "Around you, none of my plans seem to go— to go to plan."
She laughed. "But I like the new plans we make together. Hmm." She shifted up, her breasts nestling his length between them.
Spike stared down, clamped his jaw shut, and resolutely looked at the ceiling. The sight of the Slayer's glorious breasts, a honeyed peach, wrapped snugly around his pale cock— Think of England. Think of boring things. Hats. Downing Street. Inland Revenue.
"Wanna hear my plan?"
"Absolutely," he replied in a strangled voice.
"Dry runs can get a little… damp. And soon, maybe after a few more days… or like, tomorrow, we can see if we want to do more? Both of us?" Buffy hastily pressed on, over whatever Spike was trying to say. "I'm not nervous anymore, I just like to take things one step at a time. Like being friends. Then more than friends. Sweethearts." Her voice was fading as he reached down and rubbed his fingers against her cheek, a look of awe in his eyes. "Lovers."
Spike nodded. "Best thing you can have, I think. To have one person be your friend and your lover one and the same."
Buffy sighed contentedly as she slid back down. She couldn't say that about either of her other "boyfriends." In fact, they didn't fit the bill, one of them was all boy and no friend and one was neither, an older man with demons, guilt, and a love for brooding and self-torment. Spike? Older, but plenty boyish. And friend? Yes, and then some. "I think this is going to be good," Buffy slid her mouth slowly around him.
Spike groaned softly as pleasure overwhelmed him. "You're right."
To be continued…
Two Chapters to Go! Thank you for hanging in there.