Mortal Allies Series
Episode 5
War and Roses
By: Passion4Spike
Chapter 22: Jardin Aux Souvenirs
Chapter Notes:
So, when I first started thinking about this part of this series, the scene Holi117 and I talked about first was their date, which will start in this chapter. Basically, I have written an entire story to get to THIS ONE PART, which I've been dreaming of for SOOOO LONG. It will last for about two and a half chapters. I hope you enjoy it!
Thanks, as always, to MissLuci for making this chapter both hotter and sweeter with her suggestions and ideas. All mistakes are mine because of fiddling.
Thanks again to PaganBaby for making me not one, but TWO banners. I've put the second banner up at the beginning of the page in case you missed it. I also used some of PB's AMAZING manips in the storyboards. (if you are reading on fanfic dot net, you can see the pictures and banners referenced on A03)
And, finally, thanks to all of you for reading and commenting/liking the chapters. I can't say how much it all means to me!
-X-
The warm water felt divine as it sluiced down Buffy's body, like silken fingers feathering over her sensitive skin. She could hardly believe, after the hours making love with Spike, that she could still feel this hyped up, this tingly, this horny. She ran her hands through her long hair, her eyes closed, letting herself get lost in the sensation of the water teasing her nipples, tickling her stomach, and soothing the unfamiliar ache in muscles that had been overused during the last few hours, and would continue to be overused during the rest of this weekend, and beyond, if things went according to plan.
Calling this a 'shower stall' was like describing Spike-the-dog as a 'puppy'; while true, it didn't convey the full scope of the situation. The shower was huge—large enough for a whole basketball team to fit with room to spare. One wall was clear glass, the other three were solid slabs of granite in rich, earthen tones of brown, gold, and beige, with deep green veins running through it. On one end there was a sturdy granite seat running the width of the enclosure which held the hotel's complimentary soaps, shampoos, and washcloths. Three of the walls and the ceiling were peppered with nozzles and jets—both hand-held and fixed—enough to douse that whole basketball team all at once, head to toe. They were controlled by a panel of buttons on one wall. Buffy had played with them when she'd first come in, getting a face full of warm water that left her spluttering and laughing, before she figured them out.
While she waited for Spike to join her, Buffy was using just one of the many shower options, the one in the ceiling, a fancy one that felt like a soft, warm rain falling over her. Spike had taken the room service tray to the hall for the house elves (or whoever) to pick up, and was making sure the 'do not disturb' sign was still firmly in place on the door. She didn't have to wait long for her vampire to appear, though she didn't turn or open her eyes as he stepped up behind her.
"Someone's a cheeky little minx," he growled in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her slick, wet body.
"Who could that be?" she asked innocently, a wry grin spreading over her lips as he pulled her back against him.
"Goldilocks didn't eat her porridge," he informed her as his hands began to roam over her silky skin. He caressed her flat stomach before curving over her firm breasts, teasing her nipples to hard peaks, then sliding one hand back down to cup her sex.
"Maybe it wasn't 'just right'," she suggested, reaching back between their bodies to grip his cock.
"Maybe my shower virgin needs a sodding lesson in doing as she's told," he countered gruffly, thrusting his cock against her hot, tight grip as he nibbled her neck, the water tugging at his curls. "Not feeling properly respected, here, pet."
Buffy released her grip on his dick and turned in his embrace. Her green eyes sparkled as she met his hungry gaze. "Whatever could I do to make it up to you?" she asked coyly.
Spike tilted his head, his teeth closing on his full bottom lip. "Reckon you on your knees might be a good start."
The Slayer's smile was devilish as she slowly lowered to her knees, never breaking eye contact with him, as if that was exactly what she'd had in mind all along. Spike watched through the spray of water as Buffy licked a line of sparks up his hard shaft, her tongue sliding along his wet dick like silk. It was all he could do to keep from slamming his cock down her throat when she opened her pretty pink lips and took him inside her hot, eager mouth. He moaned as she began to move up and down, swirling her tongue over his aching glans, and taking him deeper with every stroke. Spike slid his hands through her wet hair, keeping it out of her face, as she sucked and licked and fucked him on her knees. He felt the demon pressing forward—the Slayer on her knees in front of him too much for him to resist—and soon her green eyes were staring into the golden depths of the demon as she sucked his dick.
"Fuck, woman... know how bloody sexy you are there on your knees? Your skin glistening, your mouth around my prick, those eyes of yours looking at me like nowhere you'd rather be."
Buffy hummed around his prick as she changed to quick, shallow strokes just taking in the first couple of inches. She stroked his balls with one hand as the other gripped his hip, controlling the tempo and the depth, teasing him with her tongue, sucking and releasing, tightening her lips, then raking over his sensitive flesh with her teeth. She may be the one on her knees, but that didn't mean she didn't have the power. Power over the man and power over the demon. The power to make him curse and gasp, moan and growl. The power to make him beg her for more; the power to give it to him.
"Christ, Buffy... fuck me good, suck me off... need it harder, please pet. God, wanna fill you up... wanna fuck your tight, hot throat. So bloody sexy... please..."
Keeping her eyes locked on the glittering gold of the demon's, Buffy suddenly slammed down on his prick, burying her nose in his dark curls and shoving his aching glans deep into her throat. She swallowed frantically, fighting the gag reflex, as reflexive tears gathered in her eyes. Then she was fucking him in earnest, sucking and licking and bobbing her head in a frantic, feral rhythm, her knees sliding on the slippery tile. Her nails scratched over his balls, teased his taint, and even slid temptingly over the tight bud of his ass before she squeezed one firm cheek and pulled him impossibly closer to her hot, eager mouth.
"FUCK, YES!" he howled, the words echoing off the hard surfaces and bouncing back on them. He didn't even try to hold back as he felt the explosion erupt in his belly. His balls tightened and his cock swelled as wave after wave of cum surged into her hungry depths.
Buffy sucked and licked and swallowed him down as if she were starving. Her fingers dug into his hip as she continued to slam his cock down her throat, fucking him deep and hard until the need for air outweighed her need for his spunk. She pulled back but not off, gasping around his spewing prick as he continued to fill her mouth with his jizz.
"Fuck-fuck-fuck-Buffy-FUCK!" Spike cursed in rapture as he watched his beautiful Slayer on her knees devouring him, giving and taking in equal measure. It was too much and not enough all at once. A feral growl rent the air as he wrenched her hand from his hip and pulled his cock from her greedy mouth, freeing himself from her control.
He yanked her up to her feet and kissed her voraciously and Buffy returned the demon's passion with just as much fervor. His fangs nicked her tender flesh and Slayer blood mingled with his spunk on her lips, which, for a moment, only drove the demon wilder. He growled dangerously, the kiss turning brutal, as he devoured the drops of crimson bliss from her swollen lips.
Then a chill raced down his spine. No means no. No blood. Never offered him her blood... well, not while he'd been lucid, at any rate.
Spike yanked his mouth from hers, stepping back, his yellow eyes aflame with lust—for blood and sex—but tinged with fear.
Buffy's tongue slid over the twin slices in her lower lip, her chest heaving, her eyes wide.
"Sorry, pet... I..."
"Knees, vampire," she ordered, closing the distance he'd created between them, and pushing down on his shoulders. "Time for you to learn your lesson."
Spike could feel the waves of her Slayer power rolling off her as he dropped to his knees at her feet. He fought back his vampire visage, but just as he got it reigned in, Buffy grabbed his chin and lifted it so he was looking up at her through the thick drizzle of warm water. "I said I want the vampire on his knees... bring him back. Demon needs to learn how to play nice. My blood. My rules."
In barely a blink, sparkling amber eyes glared up at her from beneath a wrinkled brow. Buffy thought he was trying to look defiant and angry, but beneath it she could see worry and regret. While she thrilled at the prospect of 'punishing' her misbehaving vampire as he'd 'punished' her, the fear in his eyes wasn't make-believe or role playing; it was real and it needed to go.
Her gaze softened and she traced her fingers over the ridges of the monster. "I know you can control the demon, Spike," she said softly. "I've seen it. I trust you. I love you—all of you."
She bent down and kissed his upturned mouth tenderly. Spike reached up and cupped the back of her head, threading his fingers through her flowing, wet hair, holding her in place. He deepened the kiss, carefully keeping his fangs from her lovely lips, though the taste of her blood was still strong, making his cock swell, and his hunger for her flare.
Spike released the hold he had on her hair as the kiss broke. Still on his knees, the demon gazed up at her, awestruck, all trace of the regret and fear gone from his expressive eyes.
"Which doesn't mean I'm not going to punish you," she informed him, her lips curving into a deliciously evil grin. She lifted her foot and pressed it against his chest, thinking this would be sexier with red stiletto heels on, but showers and Louboutins were unmixy (as were Louboutins and her salary... Would the Council buy her Louboutins as part of her clothing allowance?)
Buffy shook her head to clear her sidetracked thoughts and pressed hard against his chest with her bare foot, knocking him over and out of her way. She then strode past him to the granite bench—which, again, would've looked better in heels—twisting her hips temptingly as she passed.
She took a seat on the stone ledge like she was sitting on a throne, adjusted one of the jets to her liking. "Show me what that tongue can do, demon-mine... and if you draw even a drop of blood, there will be consequences." She had no idea what those might be, but she'd think of something.
Buffy leaned back, spreading her legs. Her shoulders settled against the cool stone as the water caressed and warmed her front, sliding down from her collarbone, over her breasts, her stomach, and trickling enticingly between her thighs. Her vampire crawled to her on hands and knees until he was between her lovely thighs. With one hand on each of her knees he opened her wider, exposing her sweet pussy to his deadly fangs and yellow, cat-like eyes.
"I'm yours," he rumbled, touching a kiss on the tender flesh inside her left knee. "Your demon to command. Your servant. Your slave. Your minion. Your vassal. Your thrall. Your liege." He whispered between kisses that he trailed up her firm, golden thigh. "You are my goddess. My master. My queen. My home. My muse. My sun. My moon. My life. My breath," he continued, feathering more kisses upon the tender flesh of her other thigh.
Buffy shivered, despite the warm water, both from his words and the anticipation he was building in her. Her pussy throbbed in want of him, in need of him. Of his touch. Of his mouth on her and his fingers sliding inside her.
"Show me... Be a good vampire and make me cum... make me scream," she breathed, hoping it sounded queenly and demanding, not girly and pleading.
Spike grinned at her, his fangs glinting, water running down his face from the overhead shower. "As my mistress demands," he vowed, pulling Buffy to the very edge of the seat, and diving into her hot, slick chalice.
"Oh, god..." she panted when his tongue swirled around her clit, his fingers holding her folds open, exposing her pink pussy to his ravenous mouth, his sharp fangs grazing her swollen flesh with the barest whisper, teasing, taunting, yet per her command, never drawing a drop of blood. Again and again he circled her tingling bundle of nerves, driving all vestiges of the mistress from her and leaving only the whimpering woman, desperate for release. Her hips curled up toward his torturous lips, silently begging him for more, as her hands clamped over his head and pulled him against her mound.
"Fuck me... fuck me now... make me cum," she ground out, pretty sure she'd managed to find a flicker of the demanding goddess voice based on the growl Spike rumbled against her sensitive skin, which sent campfire sparks billow up through her body.
"Tease those pretty tits for me, my queen," he begged, his voice a gravely rasp.
Buffy did as she was bid, cupping her breasts, kneading and teasing, then circling her wet nipples with her fingertips. Her back arched into the sensation as she plucked and twisted her hard nipples, creating more scorching fires, burning in her core.
Certain that her tits were being properly seen to, Spike's lips closed over her clit. He sucked down hard just as he slid two fingers into her yearning cunt. Buffy's hips jerked against him, and an expletive of overwhelming pleasure burst from her lips as he began fucking her in earnest, slamming his fingers into her tight channel while letting his pinky slide over her puckered hole.
"Oh god, oh, Spike, oh fuck... oh... oh... fuck-fuck-yes-shit-fuck-Spike! Yes, yes! More! Harder! Fuck! Yessssssss!"
Buffy shuddered against him as the fires inside her exploded into a blinding bonfire. She was launched into heaven, Spike fucking her higher and higher with every jerk of her hips. Then she suddenly froze in a rictus of pleasure, a silent scream on her lips, her breasts pressed into her own hands, her pussy spasming around his driving fingers.
"My goddess... my queen... fucking hell, love you, fucking love you," Spike vowed against her hot, slick pussy, his fingers finally stilled as he licked and sucked her cream from her swollen petals.
Buffy finally remembered how to breathe, a sharp inhale seeming to start her heart beating again as well. She melted back against the cool stone, sure that the only thing keeping her from sliding off the bench like a flattened cartoon character was Spike kneeling before her, drinking her down as if taking communion at her feet. As long as communion consisted of her cum, which he was ardently licking and sucking from her before the shower could wash it away.
"So beautiful, my heavenly Slayer, my perfect love. Taste so good... fuck, Buffy... could stay on my knees and live on your cum... never need anything else."
She smiled dreamily down at him, watching him worship between her quivering thighs. She ran her hands through his wet curls, then caressed his face, trailing her fingertips over his ridged brow. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed into her touch, like a big cat.
"Oh, Spike, my sweet demon," she whispered, leaning down and feathering her lips over his brow ridge reverently. Angel never wanted her to see his demon, always kept it pushed back, or turned away from her. But not Spike. He trusted her with all his sides. He trusted her with his secrets, with his truths, no matter how dark or painful they may be.
And she trusted him.
Buffy trailed her kisses across the corner of one closed eye, over his sharp cheekbone, the hollow of his cheek, and then to his beautiful mouth. She pressed her lips to his and slipped her tongue into the cool cavern, purposely slicing it across one razor-sharp fang.
Spike gasped as her hot, sparkling blood burst onto his tongue. He tried to pull back, but she held his face tight between her palms, letting her heat, her love, her life-force flow into him. After the shocked moment passed, Spike's lips crashed into hers, his tongue swirling hungrily around hers, accepting the gift with a growling purr vibrating his chest.
The Slayer moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck as danger signals and pleasure centers both lit up like a forest of Christmas trees. Her skin prickled with goose flesh, and tingling shivers of lust raced wildly up and down her body. "Spike—" she gasped against him. "Love you so—"
It was all she could get out before their tongues were lashing against each other again, their lips devouring the other. A snarling moan made the air vibrate and the puddles at their feet dance as he gripped her ass and stood, bringing her with him.
Buffy's legs automatically wrapped around his slim waist and clamped down tightly to keep from sliding off his slick body. Her back hit one of the cool, smooth granite walls, pressing a few of the buttons that controlled the numerous shower heads and nozzles. Soon they were engulfed in a monsoon of warm, pulsating spray. Buffy could feel Spike's hunger—for her blood, for her body, and for her love—and a feeling of fiery power ignited into a fierce firestorm deep inside her. She felt like she was flying, floating, soaring, lifted into the clouds, high on Spike's growling, desperate thirst. It was an aphrodisiac, being desired so fervently, as if she'd needed one. "Want you inside me... now, now, Spike, now," she demanded against his wet lips, reaching between them with one hand to find his cock and guide his length to her throbbing opening.
And then he was pressing inside her, opening her tight channel, filling her burning core as the rain fell, and the jets pulsated steadily against their joined bodies.
They both pulled back from the kiss, their eyes meeting—green on gold—within the warm monsoon, as he sheathed himself inside the bliss of her. Spike's fangs glistened as he licked a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, her blood, freely given. "Buffy, luv, I..." he began reverently.
Buffy touched a finger to his lips, hushing him. "My blood. My rules," she repeated. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Did you like it?"
"Fuck, yes. Ambrosia... manna from sodding heaven, you are," he breathed. "No one like you, Buffy. One blazing drop from you'd bring fucking armies to their knees."
She glowed, a pleased smile curving her lips. "I just want to bring you to your knees," she purred. "Now break my shower-sex cherry. Show me what my blood does to you. If you're very good, you might get more."
The rumbling growl that issued from her vampire lover sent delicious tingles skittering over Buffy's burning flesh. In the next moment, Spike pulled his hips back and plunged his cock into her, hard and deep, driving a gasp of pleasure directly up from her cunt and out her pretty, pink lips.
A moment later they found a rhythm. Buffy levered herself up and down as Spike thrust into her, slamming her back against the cool granite with bruising force. Words poured from his lips as he fucked her, mercilessly tearing her shower-cherry to ribbons with his unrelenting lust.
"Buffy, fuck... so tight, so fucking hot... Christ! Yes! Like that... fuck me... squeeze me like that!" he growled against her tender neck as she gasped and mewled her pleasure. "Never get enough o' you... how hard you make me! Ask me if I like your fucking blood? Can't you feel it? Feel what you do to me? How much I need you? God, need you, want you, fucking love you! Fuck! Yes! Take it ... take my fucking cock... Take it all, Slayer! Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!"
Buffy threw her head back against the wall and let the warm water rain down on her face as she clung to Spike, matching his thrusts with equal ferocity. The silky water droplets ran down her body like grazing fingers, tantalizing every inch of her skin, as her vampire pounded into her, sending shockwaves dancing through every cell of her body. "Yes, yes, yes, Spike, yes—" she panted breathlessly with every stroke, every slam of his cock into her.
"Cum for me, baby... cum for Spike... cum, Buffy... fuck, so hot, so bloody... fuck!"
"More... more... harder..." she ground out, digging her nails into his shoulders as she met his violent thrusts with equal power and unbridled hunger.
Spike snarled, burying his face against her shoulder, driving harder, pounding her pussy, banging his pubic bone against her clit. He heard the granite behind her crack just as Buffy's tight cunt began to spasm madly around his plunging cock, tightening in a perfect vise of pleasure.
"FUUCCK!" he howled into the pulsing, falling water just as Buffy screamed an incoherent stream of obscenities and unraveled in his arms.
With a last, desperate, frantic jerk of his hips, Spike let go, emptying his balls into her undulating depths as her hot, slick cum exploded over his dick, engulfing him in her burning bliss. Their combined cries of release shook the walls and the floor, widening the fissures that had begun in the granite, and sending them spiderwebbing out in all directions from behind Buffy.
Spike's trembling knees gave way and the lovers slid down through the crisscrossing streams of pulsating water to the cool tile, both panting madly. Buffy cupped his cheeks with her hands and showered his demon face with burning kisses, which were too soon washed away in the stream of the showers engulfing them. Spike withdrew his fangs as he caught her chin between his fingers and directed her mouth to his, reveling in the taste of her passion, her love... her trust.
She could taste the tangy copper of blood on his tongue—her blood. It made Buffy shiver and moan against him, made her cunt throb as another wave of bliss rolled over her. That should not make her feel like this—like a horny, wanton goddess—but it did. She pulled back to look into his blue eyes, running her fingers through his wet curls to keep them back as the water sluiced down over his handsome face. The look in his eyes stole what little breath she'd managed to regain—adoring, loving, perhaps even worshipful.
"You're bloody magnificent," he rasped, his voice a deep well of barely contained emotion. He trailed a finger over her forehead, pushing back the drizzle of her hair that ran into her beautiful face.
"And you're on your knees," she pointed out, her green eyes sparkling with shameless delight.
Spike looked around, as if just noticing he had sunk to his knees, that his Slayer, still impaled on his prick, sat on his thighs, her legs still around his waist. "Your liege," he rasped.
Buffy bit down on a grin. "Was it... good... really? My blood. I mean... I know you've had other—"
Spike touched his lips to hers, a chaste, sweet kiss to stop the insecurities from seeing the light of day. "Like nothing I've ever felt... tasted. So much power you have, pet—so much bloody ... heat. Can't fucking describe it. Can't believe you did that. Means... fuck, pet, means so much. Can't tell you, luv... don't have the words for... bloody hell," he finished, shaking his head in awe. The smile returned to her lips, lighting his world with a radiant brilliance that tingled his skin like sunlight, and made his heart swell, pressing against his ribs, overflowing.
"Not even a limerick?" she teased, her eyes reflecting his devotion and his love like a mirror.
He smiled softly, tracing the lines of her face, down across her jaw to her dewy, swollen lips.
"There once was a Slayer who loved me,
"Dunno why, she's so high above me,
"Gave me her blood,
"Made m' heart flood,
"With a bottomless love that might drown me."
Buffy shook her head, her gaze softening as she cupped his cheek. "Not above you," she whispered. "You're the strongest person I know, Spike. I... I don't know how you..." Her head shook again, and she leaned in to kiss him. "You're incredible."
"Cos of you, pet. Your goodness, your strength, your love."
Another shake of the Slayer's head. "No—you fought the darkness long before you met me. There's always been good inside you." She touched his chest, just over his bulging, unbeating heart. "You just needed a chance to show it, to let it out."
Spike bit down on his lip, considering her. "You're the key... trusted me, you did, showed me what I... what I was missing. Made me want to be better, for you."
"I'll always trust you. All of you," she vowed. "I trust you with my blood, with my body, with my heart."
Spike kissed her with a soft sigh. "Love you so much, Buffy."
"I love you," she returned gently. Then she furrowed her brow and said, "But I'm not so sure about that poem. Are you allowed to use the same word three times to make it rhyme? That seems extra cheaty to me."
Her vampire poet chuckled. "Not cheating if yer making it up off the top of your head, which is floating in the clouds, bloodless and empty, cos a certain Slayer's sent all the blood down south o' the border."
"That's my favorite place for all your blood," she informed him, squeezing her inner muscles around his prick.
Spike moaned in pleasure, and his head fell back, his eyes landing on the cracked wall above her. "Might want t' find a different venue, luv. Not sure how much more this room can take. Lucky we didn't break any pipes..."
Buffy followed his gaze, looking up and behind her to see the cracked stone. Her eyes went wide as she looked back at him. "Did we do that? Will... will we have to pay for it?"
Spike chuckled. "Shoddy workmanship, if ya ask me. Should sue 'em for putting us in danger... 'least get a free night or two."
His girl laughed and the glowing effervescence inside him tumbled down like a waterfall of golden, bubbling champagne to fill all the empty shadows where his soul used to be. He'd never get enough of her—not of her body, her mind, her heart, and not of her saucy, sultry blood which still tingled on his tongue.
"C'mon, pet... best get your sweet arse cleaned up 'fore the whole bloody thing collapses," he suggested. "Think m' legs are working again," he declared as he began sliding back, slipping from beneath her.
"Not sure mine are," Buffy confessed, though she managed reluctantly to get up, using the cracked wall for support, so he could also stand.
"Feel any different now? With your sex-in-a-shower cherry properly popped?" he asked as he reached for the shampoo.
Buffy grinned. "I hope all my popping cherries are as amazing as this one," she admitted as he turned her around and began lathering the shampoo in her long hair.
"Noted... all popped cherries should be accompanied by structural damage. Remind me not t' pop any in my sodding house."
She laughed as he dug his fingers into her scalp, scrubbing and massaging deliciously.
"Can we lose some o' these bloody geysers?"
"Just push the buttons... But not the—"
"Bloody hell!" he spluttered as a jet of water hit him full in the face.
"—top one... it squirts you in the face."
"Did that on purpose, you did!" he accused.
Buffy giggled, watching him pushing buttons and guarding his face at the same time.
"Gonna pay for that, Slayer," he threatened.
She ran her tongue over her saucy smile. "Promises, promises."
-X-
Every eye was on the handsome couple as they walked, arm-in-arm, through the hotel lobby. Guests and staff alike stopped to watch them move, almost float, across the marble floor. The only clue that their feet were touching the ground was the sound of Buffy's stiletto heels clicking on the hard surface. It couldn't have been the first time they'd seen people in formal evening wear, but something about these two blondes drew all eyes. The man was dressed in a black tux, complete with bow tie and a white shirt with black buttons. The woman was in a strapless, black satin cocktail dress that hugged all her slender curves, accentuating her bust with a sweetheart neckline. The hem of the silky dress fell just below her knee, but the slit up the outside of her right leg showed off several inches of strong, tanned thigh with every graceful step.
They looked like they were made for each other. When they smiled at each other, the entire room seemed to glow that much brighter, and when he leaned in to whisper into her ear, everyone leaned toward them, entranced, wanting to hear what had made the beautiful woman blush so.
"Drawing every eye, you are. So beautiful, Buffy," Spike breathed against her ear, making Buffy shiver and flush. She ducked her head, letting the tresses which were left free of her updo fall over her pleased, but bashful, smile.
"I think they're looking at you," she returned in a whisper, glancing up at his sparkling eyes. God, he was beautiful and handsome and breathtaking and head-turning and just 'oh-my-god-he's-mine' in a tux. Who knew Spike could clean up so well? Was there any look he couldn't do better than any other man on the planet? James Bond had nothing on him in the tux-wearing department, and Billy Idol didn't touch his 80s punk look. And though Buffy had never seen any porn, she was pretty sure there wasn't a single 'Rod Longstaff' or 'Woody Johnson' who could hold a light to a naked, turned-on Spike.
Her sexy man smirked as the doorman opened the doors for them. "Actually, seems we've made a bit of a name for ourselves," Spike told her as the doorman at the curb opened the back door of a long, black limo for them. "The 'Screaming Sweethearts'."
"What?" Buffy blurted out, her eyes going wide as Spike helped her into the limo.
He smirked, following her in, his blue eyes dancing mischievously in the fairy lights that lined the ceiling of the large sedan. "Apparently, our voices carry."
"Oh my god." Buffy cringed, covering her face as the door closed behind Spike and the limo pulled away from the curb. "That's so... embarrassing."
"They're only jealous, luv. Wish they were us. Wish their lover made them scream and howl and cum like us."
Buffy was shaking her head, her face still covered, mortified.
Spike pulled her hands away from her flaming face. "Been telling you you're a goddess. Believe me now? Best get used to the adoration, pet."
Buffy snorted but was still shaking her head. "That is so..." She was going to say 'embarrassing' again, and it was, but it was also so... empowering and emboldening and probably a few other 'em' words that she couldn't think of but would be in the OED. Maybe she should start carrying a copy around with her.
"Deserved," Spike filled in for her. He curled his tongue against his teeth and gave her a heated leer, letting his burning blue eyes roam over her body, lingering at the dip between her breasts and then at the slit up the side of her thigh. "Did I mention how sexy you are in that fancy frock?"
She bit down on the pleased smile, though she was still caught between embarrassment and empowerment. "A time or ten," she replied, glancing up at him. "You look quite yummy too."
Spike grinned and met her glittering green gaze. "You said that when I was starkers, as well."
Buffy laughed lightly and reached over to caress his thigh through the thin fabric of his tux. "Well, I can't help it if you're a tasty treat, no matter how you're wrapped... or unwrapped."
"Care to have an appetizer 'fore we get to the restaurant?" Spike offered with a wag of his brows, guiding her hand up to his cock, which wasn't quite straining at the zipper yet, but would be soon.
Buffy's eyes darted to the partition between them and the driver. "Here? Now?" she whispered worriedly, though she licked her lips and let her eyes fall to his crotch. "What if he can see... o-or hear?"
Spike chuckled. "What if he can... that turn you on, luv? Bloody well turns me on... bet it'd turn him on too."
Before Buffy could reply, a voice came over some hidden speakers announcing that they were already at their destination, "Grégoire's." She wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved, but she went for relieved as the door was opened by a sharp-dressed man.
Spike touched an intercom button and told the driver where and when to pick them up—at the Orpheum Theatre after the show. Then he was sliding out and extending a hand to Buffy to help her from the limo, which she'd barely gotten a chance to enjoy. Maybe they could get the guy to drive around a while after the show... perhaps go over the bridge or down along the wharfs. By then it would be time for dessert... Buffy's tummy did a little flip flop thinking about what sort of dessert there might be as she slipped easily from the car, one hand in Spike's, and the other holding her sparkly clutch, which held everything a girl really needed—lipstick, a compact, and a stake.
As the limo pulled away, Spike extended the crook of his arm for her. Buffy settled her hand around his elbow and looked around. They really weren't far from the hotel, along the waterfront at the Embarcadero. However, the outside of the restaurant looked like they may have been transported to a small village in France, if not for all the tourists passing along the sidewalk wearing 'I left my heart in San Francisco' t-shirts. The exterior walls seemed to be made of old, uneven stone with wood timbers supporting an overhanging canopy. Hanging baskets overflowing with red impatiens added a splash of color to the façade. The name, Grégoire's, was stenciled in fancy gold script on the worn, wooden door, which the doorman was holding open for them.
The aromas coming from inside were mouthwatering, and Buffy's stomach growled at the scent. Spike chuckled and she elbowed him discreetly before preceding him into the romantically lit interior. Inside was much like the outside—an authentic bistro relocated from a small village in France and plopped down in California. There were candles on every table, and flickering sconces on the walls; just enough light to see what you were eating, but low enough to set a mood of romance and l' amour. Adding to that mood, there was soft music playing in the background, and everyone seemed to be speaking in low, intimate voices to their tablemates.
Buffy could see quite a few couples and small groups waiting for tables in a seating area off to one side of the entrance, and then she remembered even more people standing around outside. Her grumbling stomach sank. They shouldn't make things smell so wonderful and then make you wait. That was just evil.
"Monsieur et mademoiselle," the hostess greeted them in a passable French accent, though Buffy thought she looked more like a California girl—delicate features with almond-shaped dark eyes, and an olive complexion—the French braid in her long, dark hair notwithstanding. "Do you have a reservation?" she continued, still with the French accent. Buffy would've given points for effort—the accent sounded authentic to her—but she was too hungry to be charitable, and decided it was just cheesy and lame.
"Westfield," Spike provided, coming up behind Buffy.
"Ah, yes, sir, very good," the girl, whose nametag said, Émilie, but Buffy figured really was Emily, said. "Table for two on le pont. Right this way, s'il vous plait," she invited, as she picked up two menus, and began walking into the seating area.
Buffy's brows went up. She shot a glance behind her at the people waiting, and received a few glares back. Well, it wasn't her fault that her boyfriend was amazing, being all think-aheady and reservations-making.
Spike gallantly offered her his arm as they followed the hostess through the crowded restaurant. Eyes again tracked them, or at least gave the handsome couple a long glance. Buffy couldn't suppress her smile as she tucked herself close to Spike's side, feeling all floaty and glorious and utterly in love.
Émilie led them through the restaurant and out a set of, what else, French doors, onto a wide deck that was right on San Francisco Bay and overlooked the Bay Bridge. The sun had recently dipped beneath the horizon and the sky beyond the bridge was a peachy-pink, fading into a washed out blue high above. Where was that famous San Francisco fog? Buffy should ask someone about that... later.
The lights of the bridge were on, and it sparkled over the dark water in the distance. On the deck were several intimate tables, each with pristine white tablecloths, candles, and strategically placed topiaries, which gave each table the sense of being completely secluded, while still affording them a view of the water and bridge. Off to one side, Buffy saw where the music that she'd heard inside was coming from—there was a small chamber orchestra with two women singing accompaniment. Their voices were lovely, as was the music, slow and full of romance; it made Buffy want to dance with Spike, to sway and melt into him, though she didn't see a dance floor.
The hostess stopped at a table for two, placing the menus on their respective places, across from each other. Spike held the chair out for Buffy and helped her slide in before taking his own.
"Your waiter tonight will be Tomás. May I interest you in some wine with your meal tonight?" she asked, presenting Spike with a wine list.
Spike took it and opened it as he asked in a slightly more refined accent than usual, "Do you have a champagne you would recommend?"
"We have a 1993 Roederer Cristal which is quite exceptional," Émilie offered, pointing to it on the list in Spike's hand.
Spike nodded and handed the wine list back to her. "We'll have that," he agreed, still in the softer accent.
"Very good, monsieur. I will send the sommelier out immediately." The girl gave a small bow and retreated, leaving Buffy and Spike alone.
"Champagne?" Buffy questioned.
He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. She intertwined her fingers with his and met his adoring gaze in the flickering light of the candle.
"'Course, pet. Celebrating, aren't we? It's your day... your National Hot Chocolate Day celebration."
Buffy chewed her lip nervously. "I'm not sure I like champagne," she admitted.
"Have you ever had champagne?"
"A couple of times."
Spike arched a brow at her. "Thought you weren't of drinking age for another coupl'a years. Just when did you have champagne, you juvenile delinquent?"
Buffy smiled. "Mom and Dad would let me have some on New Year's Eve... just a little, you know, but it was..." She scrunched up her face. "Weirdly non-refreshing... and kind of lemony?"
He laughed. "And just where did yer mum get this bubbly delight?"
She shrugged. "The grocery store?"
"Well, give this a go, eh? Might enjoy it more than the $4.99 special from the Safeway."
The Slayer nodded and looked out at the horizon and the fading sunset. She stood up as if drawn by an outside force, and walked the few feet to the railing along the water. Spike was behind her in a moment, both of them standing in their formalwear watching the last of the color drain from the sky over the lapping waves.
"It's beautiful," she breathed, leaning back into him as he wrapped his arms around her.
"You're beautiful," he corrected as his body began to sway to the old, familiar music that drifted lazily through the cool evening air. "Dance with me?"
Buffy sighed dreamily and turned in his arms. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her as they began to float with the melody and the dulcet voices of the singers. It didn't matter that there wasn't an actual dance floor. The world was a dance floor when you were in love.
"What is this song? It sounds familiar," she murmured against his chest.
"'Jardin Aux Souvenirs'... 'Garden of Memories,'" Spike replied. "But the tune is to 'Moon River'."
"It's beautiful."
"A love song, but a bit sad... also hopeful, I reckon," Spike explained. "But yeah, almost as beautiful as you."
Buffy felt that glow of love inside her brighten that much more as she leaned into his strong, hard body, relishing his arms around her.
[ Baby et Lulu | Jardin Aux Souvenirs (Moon River) | French music duet can be found on YouTube ]
Au jardin de mes souvenirs
J'ai vu l'amour fleurir un jour
J'ai vu tes yeux
Noyés de bleu
Verser dans mes rêves
Tout l'or du bon Dieu.
Above them, the sky darkened from the lightest shade of periwinkle to indigo as the sunlight faded completely. A few of the brightest stars broke through the lights of the city, twinkling gently above the lovers. They held each other tenderly, moving as one, lost in each other and in the silvery smooth voices of the singers.
Sur ton cœur j'ai penché mon cœur
Et j'ai cueilli la fleur d'aimer
La rose dans mes mais se punisse
Je l'ai vue pleurer des larmes de rosée quand tu m'as quitté
"Is this song about us?" Buffy asked.
Spike shook his head. "Hope not... never want you to cry, never want t' see your love die."
She pressed her body tighter to his, holding him in a fierce embrace. "I might cry sometimes, but my love will never die. I love you so much... all my tomorrows are yours." She turned her face up to his, needing to see the belief in his eyes. "You know that, right?"
He touched a soft kiss to her lips as they turned in a tight circle on their own personal dance floor beneath the night sky. "I know, pet... and my love's yours... eternally yours."
Buffy gave him a warm, loving smile and kissed him back, a lingering, decadent kiss made the moon blush, and the stars glow brighter.
Au jardin de mes souvenirs
Hier j'ai vu mourir l'amour
Pourtant si demain tu voulais
Mon rêve, enchanté, pourrait recommencer au soleil demain
As the music ended, someone nearby cleared their throat and they broke apart, turning to see the sommelier waiting at their table with the champagne. Buffy ducked her head, embarrassed, but Spike just chuckled as he guided her with his hand in the small of her back, over to their table.
Spike again held her chair for her, letting his fingers graze along her bare back, just above the bodice of her dress, as he slid it in for her. A shiver ran down her spine from the subtle contact and left tingling sparks floating through her. Her eyes were glued to her sexy man, who looked extra-yummy in a tuxedo, as he resumed his seat across from her. She'd never undressed anyone wearing a tuxedo before; that would be a new 'cherry' to be popped later, another first in what she thought might be a lifetime of firsts with him.
How many firsts could there be in one lifetime? Hundreds, thousands, millions? She was sure that her vampire could find ways to make sure there were gazillions of them. Smiling at the thought, Buffy watched Spike and the sommelier go through a series of steps with the champagne. It began with showing Spike the unopened bottle, then popping the cork (but not sending it flying like they did on TV), placing the cork on the table in front of Spike, pouring Spike a small taste of the bubbly, and having him taste it and finally approve it. It seemed like a lot of work for a little bit of sparkling wine, but finally, their fluted, crystal glasses were bubbling away in the flickering candlelight.
When the sommelier placed the bottle in an ice bucket next to the table and retreated, Spike raised this glass to her. "Happy National Hot Chocolate Day, luv. Here's to many more..."
Buffy's smile was glowing as she touched her glass to his with a melodic 'tink', and took a sip of the golden wine. It tickled her nose as the small bubbles burst against her tongue in a crisp deluge of nectar that made her taste buds tingle and dance. Her eyes went wide as she looked back over at Spike. "Wow... like, very wow!" she proclaimed, taking another, larger sip.
Spike watched her, his eyes awash in adoration, his head tilted to the side, just so, a soft smile curving his lips. "Better than yer mum's?"
She chuckled and nodded. "Just a tiny bit," she admitted, taking another sip.
"Reckon you're starting to get peckish, eh?" he asked, picking up his menu.
"If that means starving, then, yes, muchly." She looked down at her menu, only then noticing it was all in French with no English subtitles. "Um..." Buffy looked up at him uncertainly. "I-I took a whole year of French and the only words on this menu I can understand are 'menu' and 'fromage'."
"Trust me t' order for ya?" he asked, looking up and meeting her uncertain eyes.
Buffy closed her menu and nodded, dropping her gaze, and looking chagrined. "You must think I'm like... a bumpkin from Bumpkins-ville," she whispered.
"Buffy, luv," Spike said gently, reaching across the table to take her hand. "Don't think that at all. Think you're strong and beautiful and sexy as fuck..."
She sniffed back her insecurity that was threatening to come out as tears, and looked up at him. "But I don't know any of this stuff... this champagne stuff and French food stuff o-or tuxedo stuff. I'm like the un-knower of stuff. I'm the Scarecrow… all stuffed full of straw."
He shook his head, still holding her hand across the table. "Nothing could be further from the truth. Saw your SAT scores, didn't I? Seen you take on all sorts of challenges and come out the winner every time. Put that berk Travers in his place, didn't ya? Got your salary and what all from the wankers. Lot's o' brilliant stuff in that pretty noggin of yours."
"But that's all... Slayer stuff and... and school stuff. Not worldly life stuff," she argued, looking up at him, her green eyes worried.
Spike squeezed her hand reassuringly. "What's wrong with that? Just means I get t' introduce you to new things... which I'm right fond o' doing. Like back in the room."
That brought a smile to her lips and a blush to her face. "Are you sure you won't get tired of me not being all... savvy with the knowing of things?"
Spike shook his head, leaning in closer and lifting their clasped hands to his lips. "Never, luv," he assured her, touching a kiss to the back of her hand. "If we live forever, I'll never tire o' watching your eyes light up when I show you something new. I learn new things from you every day, ya know?"
"You are such a liar," she accused, rolling her eyes. "Name one thing you've learned from me."
Without a moment's thought he answered, "What it feels like to be loved."
Buffy shook her head in confusion a moment before he went on, "My mum and dad loved me... but... I mean loved by a lover, by an amazing woman. Never felt like this before, Buffy. Never had anyone look at me like you do, touch me like you do. Never had anyone give of herself... not like you."
Buffy felt tears well in her eyes, and she wished she'd put some tissues in her clutch. She pulled her hand from Spike's so she could unfurl the cloth napkin to dab at her eyes. "I... I'm sorry I'm the first to..."
"Don't be, luv. I'm happy for it. Wouldn't change it. Not a minute," he assured her, picking up his glass of champagne again. "To an eternity teaching each other about love, life, and fromage," he toasted, his voice rough with emotion.
She gave him a shy smile, adding, "To a lifetime of firsts," as she touched her glass to his.
Spike gave her a sensuous leer across the table. "So many cherries to pop, so little time..." he rumbled before drinking.
Buffy giggled into her bubbly, nearly spilling it. She dabbed at her lips before saying, "I thought we had eternity."
Spike nodded, his blue eyes dancing in the candlelight. "An eternity with you'll not be enough for me to pour all my love into you, Buffy. Love you so bloody much."
She felt that familiar surge of warmth overflow her heart with his words, and a smile stretched her face. "I love you all with the muchly, too."
-X-
Chapter End Notes:
More of their night to come!
The picture of the restaurant looking over the bridge is 'The Waterfront Restaurant' on the Embarcadero. Grégoire's is fictitious. (If you are reading on fanfic dot net, you can find the pictures and banners that are referenced on A03 )
Manip of Buffy and Spike in black dress and tux by PaganBaby. Manip of Buffy and Spike in the shower also by PaganBaby. See more of her manips on Tumblr under PaganBaby McSmutty
Baby et Lulu | Jardin Aux Souvenirs (Moon River) | French music duet is on Youtube
I'm not sure how great the translation is of the lyrics to Au Jardin Aux Souvenirs, but here is what I've got:
In the garden of my memories
I saw love bloom one day
I saw your eyes
Drowned in blue
Pour into my dreams
With riches greater than that of heaven.
On your heart I bent my heart
And I picked the May flower
The rose in my hands broke
I saw her cry
Tears of dew in the garden of my memories
Yesterday I saw love die
Yet if tomorrow you wanted
My enchanted dream
Could start over
In the May sun.