Mortal Allies Series

Episode 5

War and Roses

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 23: Sublime

Chapter Notes:

Food porn. Short but sweet.

This is one of the very first scenes I ever envisioned for this story. Holi117 and I bantered back and forth about it a good while as we were bouncing ideas around for Buffy's birthday. Basically, I wrote a whole story just to write this one scene. Hope you like!

Thanks so much to MissLuci for sharing her beta skills with me. All mistakes which remain are mine. And THANK YOU for reading and sticking with this SLOOOOW BURN story.

-x-

Buffy poked at the... things with one of the too many forks, unsure if she was poking at them with the correct fork. "Are they... alive?"

"'Course not," Spike assured her, holding one of the shells with the tongs and stabbing into the opening with a fork... not the same type of fork Buffy was brandishing. She put hers back into the formation of silverware where she'd gotten it.

"Why are they green?"

"It's the seasoning or whatnot," he explained as he twisted and pulled the meat out.

Buffy made a face as the dark, almost black, meat came free of the shell. He held it up toward her mouth like an offering.

"Why are they... slimy looking?"

"That's butter."

The Slayer bravely opened her mouth and Spike deftly slid the escargot onto her tongue. Buffy chewed... and chewed some more... and a bit more. Despite the weird chewiness, it tasted mostly of butter and garlic and something green that she couldn't identify.

Spike was watching her, clearly waiting for her reaction. She wiped a bit of butter from the corner of her mouth and nodded. "Very... um, masticate-able," she observed. "But the butter total helps with the devouring.

"So, show me again how you slay them," she requested, looking at the myriad of shiny silver utensils around her plate and picking up the correct fork and the tong thingy. She watched Spike show her how to extricate another of the buttery black snails from its shell and pop it into his mouth, then she gave it a try.

"Might want t' just hold it on the plate t' start," he suggested, but Buffy scoffed. If Spike could pick it up, then she could pick it up and dig the little morsel of garlicy innards out.

Her first try resulted in the snail slipping out of the tongs, plopping back onto the plate, and splattering butter in a wide arc over the white tablecloth. She could feel Spike's eyes on her, feel his smirk about to burst out, as she tried again. The second time she applied Slayer strength to keep from dropping it, and the shell cracked and then shattered into a million little pieces, which were embedded into the meat.

"Stupid shelly snails," she muttered, releasing what remained and letting it plop back into the butter.

Spike chuckled and showed her again, taking up a snail with the tongs and digging the meat out with the fork. "Not too tight, not too loose, Goldilocks..." He lowered his voice to something sinfully dark and added, "Same pressure you use when you squeeze my cock—just bloody right."

Buffy's teeth dug into her lip as a warm flush rushed up her neck and heated her face.

He held it up towards her mouth. "For my gilded goddess," he purred, curling his tongue over his teeth.

Buffy leaned in, jaws open, and waited.

"God, your mouth is so fucking perfect," he declared as he slid the escargot between her pretty pink lips. Those lips closed over the fork, and he slowly pulled it free, letting out a little moan in the process. "So bloody sexy. Fuck, Buffy, never thought I'd be jealous of a bleedin' snail."

She was trying not to smile and chew at the same time, and held her napkin up to cover her mouth, just in case. She finally swallowed and let a giggle escape. "I'll swallow you later," she promised, a mischievous glint in her sparkling green eyes.

Spike groaned longingly. "Trying t' kill me here, you are," he accused.

She grinned at him as she did a couple of practice squeezes with the tongs before trying again. She clamped them around another of the delicacies and picked it up. Her tongue poked out between her lips in concentration as she held it just right—not too tight, not too loose. Then, confident it wasn't going to squirm away or get smooshed, she used the correct fork to twist and pull the 'too little food for so much work' out of the shell.

She bounced in her seat when it came free, dangling and dripping butter from the end of the fork, and looked up at Spike with pleased, glittering eyes. "I did it!"

Spike laughed warmly, his eyes pouring out his love for her. "My star pupil."

"Your only pupil," she asserted, offering the tidbit to her lover, feeding him as he'd fed her. She watched Spike open his mouth, poke out his wickedly dexterous tongue, and slowly, sensuously suck the bit of meat in like he was making love to it. She squirmed in her chair, fires dancing in her belly as her heart began to hammer against her ribs.

She cleared her throat and rasped, "I'm starting to understand snail-envy."

He wagged his brows at her and licked his sumptuous lips. "Your turn later, pet."

-X-

Despite feeling good about her victory over the snails, Buffy was still starving. They were tiny and she only got two of them, since she'd made crushed shell mush of one and shared the others with Spike—which, totally worth that visually erotic experience, but still. She was starting to wish she'd eaten her porridge at breakfast... a breakfast that seemed like days ago now.

By the time their waiter, Tomás, a tall, athletic, Mediterranean-looking dude with his long, dark hair up in a man-bun, brought the next course, Buffy was possibly hungrier than when she'd walked in—the two little snails doing little more than whetting her appetite. Which, she guessed was the point of appetizers? But she was so not in need of any appetite whetting. All her appetites were plenty whet, in fact they were positively soaked.

The shiny, silver cover was removed from the next platter with a flourish as Tomás announced, "Caviar and Crème Fraîche Tartlets. Bon appétit!" before backing away.

Buffy leaned in and looked at the small pastries that were filled with something black and something white... they looked like yin-yang thingies. "I thought yin-yang was Japanese, not French," she commented to Spike, who picked one up and held it up to her.

"Chinese," he corrected.

"Why is a French place serving Chinese food? Don't they have enough French food to make a meal?"

Spike sighed lovingly. "It's not Chinese food, yin-yang is a Chinese symbol. This is French food."

She frowned, suspiciously eyeing what he was holding out to her. "What is it exactly?"

"Just what the poofter said, Caviar and Crème Fraîche Tartlets."

"That's helpful in a way that is not," she pointed out, but she opened her mouth for him to place the small yin-yang, not-Chinese food onto her tongue.

"The dark bit is the caviar," he explained, "Also called roe."

"Sillnohepful," she slurred around the food, holding a hand up in front of her mouth and trying to keep her lips closed.

He laughed. "Roe... fish eggs."

Buffy's face scrunched up adorably and her chewing slowed down.

"It's a delicacy," he assured her as he took one of the small, filled tarts for himself. "And the other white bit is like soured cream... only more pretentious."

She finished chewing and swallowed, then ran her tongue around her mouth searching for any stray fish eggs. She wasn't sure how to feel about those. She ate chicken eggs, and she ate fish sticks, but somehow it seemed less normal to eat fish eggs. They weren't even fried or anything.

She eyed the little yin-yang concoctions suspiciously. It tasted okay—a bit salty and tangy, smooth and creamy, and the thin shell they were in was crunchy—and she was still starving, so she took another. Did French people always eat such tiny food? Weren't there any big foods in France? Like... a steak, or how about the fish that laid these itty-bitty eggs? That might be a bit more nourishing for a horny Slayer who'd been sexing her vampire boyfriend all day and was looking forward to more of the same later.

-X-

The next time Tomás showed up, Buffy's hopes rose, because he had two covered dishes instead of just one. This must be the real food! Finally.

Always the showman, Tomás set the platters down and removed the silver covers with a dramatic sweep of his arms, announcing, "Salade paysanne. Bon appétit!" before bowing and disappearing behind the topiary.

Buffy looked at the small plate of rabbit food. Rabbit food? Spike had ordered her rabbit food?!

"Peasant salad," Spike interpreted, picking up a smallish fork from the outside of the line of silver, and digging into his. "Traditional, it is. T' cleanse the palate or whatnot."

She gave him a tight smile and lifted her champagne flute to her lips to cover her disappointment. At least the bubbly was yummy. She emptied the glass and set it down, then chose the same fork he had, and began picking through the weird green stuff to find the little bits of non-green stuff hidden within. I thought I was a goddess, not a peasant. Pretty sure goddesses don't eat rabbit food. They eat... well, something goddess-y, like the hearts of their enemies. Don't the French have a fancy name for the 'the hearts of your enemies'? They could serve it sliced into thin pieces on tiny little crackers and make it last for days.

"Good, pet?" Spike asked nonchalantly. His salad was almost gone, she noticed.

"Very... salad-y." She managed to find some chunks of Roquefort cheese, walnuts, a tiny, boiled potato, and some bits of boiled egg hidden in the greenery. She even ate some of the greenery, which, once again, was tinged with garlic.

"I thought garlic was like, badness for vampires," she observed. "You seem all up with garlic."

He laughed. "That's bloody Drac—just doesn't care for it, he doesn't, so had that sap Stoker put it in the book as if that was some law o' nature."

"Oh. Good to know," she said, stabbing some of the green stuff onto her fork and swirling it around in the garlicy dressing. She thought about all the cloves of garlic she'd hung up in her room when Angelus was on the loose. She wondered if garlic bothered him... funny, she didn't even know. Well, not really that funny, and even less surprising.

She looked up at Spike and gave him a radiant, loving smile. She was just being grumpy Buffy because she was hungry Buffy. She was with the vampire who loved her, whom she loved, the one who would tell her anything she wanted to know, the one who planned all these wonderful surprises for her. The handsome, amazing vampire who'd made love to her all day, who'd called her a goddess, and pledged eternity to her.

They were in a romantic setting with the Bay Bridge sparkling like diamonds above the rippling waves of dark water, which reflected the light like a blanket of stars laid out beneath it. There were certainly worse places to be and worse things to be doing and worse people to be doing them with. Surely, the real food would arrive soon, and all would be right with the world.

"I love you," she announced out of the blue.

Spike's head canted to the side adorably as he returned her smile. "Love you too, Sunshine."

-X-

"Crème Vichyssoise Glacée. Bon appétit!" the waiter announced as he swept the covers off the next dish.

Buffy sighed. Soup. It was soup. Where was the actual food? Did they have actual food in France? She picked up a spoon, scooped up a bit, blew on it, and tasted it. It was cold soup. Cold potato soup. It was February! Who served cold soup in February?

She looked at Spike, who seemed to be enjoying his. "I think they forgot to microwave mine," she suggested. "Is yours okay?"

"Suppose t' be cold, pet. It's Vichyssoise. See, they cook it all up, then chill it t' let all the flavors and textures combine good and proper—it's better the second day. Then it's served near room temperature so your palate can discern and experience all the sublime nuances and subtleties of the ingredients... leeks, onion, garlic, potatoes, and what all."

She frowned. "Did you eat Julia Child or something?"

Spike ducked his head and rubbed hand across the back of his neck. "Might'a had a bit of time to kill in Paris in the fifties," he admitted. "Hung about with a bloke who worked for Michelin. Went to all the best restaurants, we did."

"Well, you would have to go to a lot of French restaurants for the Michelin Man to get hefty enough to look like a bunch of tires for their ads. French food is oddly... small."

He grinned at her like she was the most adorable person he'd ever laid eyes on. "Wrong Michelin, pet. This is the Michelin what does those restaurant reviews, make those guides, and give out stars. He was a mystery diner. Guess I picked up a few things faffing about with him."

"Oh. Right." Buffy's brows furrowed as she wondered, "Where was Dru?"

Spike rolled his eyes and swirled his spoon through the thick soup. "Off with the pixies... dunno, really. Didn't want t' know. Knew she'd come fetch me when she needed her William."

Buffy's heart ached for him... her sweet, loving vampire. He didn't deserve what he'd been through, but if he'd not been through it, would he be the vampire, the man, he was today? She took a breath and let it go, deciding to not open any of his old wounds. She kept her voice light and teasing as she said, "So, you have had friends before. I thought I was your first."

Spike cleared his throat, his eyes glancing up at her then quickly away. "Friend, yeah, well... wasn't anything too, uh... serious." He met her gaze again, his eyes liquid pools of lapis in the low light. "Not like you. No one ever like you, Buffy."

Her brows drew together a moment, sensing something from the hesitant words, the tone, the furtive darting of his eyes, but then she gave him a loving smile. "No one like you for me either," she replied, reaching out to touch his arm.

He returned her smile and tilted his chin at her soup. "Best eat up 'fore it gets warm," he suggested. "See if ya can taste all the flavors."

She nodded and pulled her hand back, turning her attention to the creamy soup. "So, I'm looking for something limey?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Sublime," he corrected. "That which is glorious in nature, as distinguished from the merely beautiful... like you, pet."

-X-

Buffy had to admit that the soup was good. Everything had been good in its own way, and experiencing all the new things with Spike just made it all the more wonderful. The only problem was, every tiny bite of fish eggs, and hard-earned snails, and cold, if yummy, soup, just seemed to make her hungrier. They'd been here an hour and all these tiny tastes did nothing but tease her with the promise of actual food. She didn't want to be a Debbie-Downer or a Hungry-Harriet, but she was starting to worry that she wouldn't be able to hear the musical later over the grumbling of her stomach.

When the tall waiter with the aquiline nose and penetrating green eyes returned for the fourth, fifth (?) time, Buffy prayed for something that would quell her Slayer appetite. No ostrich necks, chicken lips, whale eyeballs, pickled seahorse testicles, or penguin entrails. She wanted some food. Like real food! Didn't French people eat real food?

Buffy braced herself for the grand reveal, which Tomás clearly loved to do with much flair and gusto. She glanced across the table at Spike, who was watching her, a small smile curving his so-kissable lips. That smile was badness. This was gonna be another microscopic tidbit that needed special tools and possibly stealth and cunning to get a tiny bite of. Gah! How was she gonna have any strength left later to devour those lips-of-Spike if she didn't get some...

"La viande hachée fromage et pommes frites! Bon appétit!" Tomás announced grandly, pulling the silver covers from the plates.

Buffy blinked, then her eyes went wide. Her stomach growled loud enough for the next table to hear. Her mouth watered. Her nose rejoiced in the heavenly aroma. It was... it was... a cheeseburger, with fries! A fucking thick hamburger on a crusty French bun topped with melty cheese and... some green stuff and some other stuff, but nothing looked like eyeballs or chicken lips. The burger and fries filled the plate to overflowing, some of the pommes frites even tumbled off onto the table when the cover was removed. It. Was. Huge. Ginormous. Slayer-sized.

She looked up at Spike who had that smirky smile on his lips, his blue eyes absolutely danced in the flickering candlelight.

"Know which fork t' use on that one, pet?" he asked teasingly as Tomás placed a turntable of small ramekins filled with dipping sauces in the center of the table.

Buffy grinned at him and picked up a fry with her fingers and dipped into what appeared to be ketchup, holding it up for his inspection. "Is this how they do it in gay Pa-ree?"

Spike chuckled. "Bloody right," he agreed, mimicking her, but dipping his fry into something that smelled spicy. He held it up toward her and she extended hers out to him. They both chomped off the ends of the proffered fried potatoes at once.

"Oh god! Hot! Hot!" Buffy exclaimed, waving a hand in front of her open mouth as her eyes began to water. Luckily, their grandiose waiter returned with two huge chocolate shakes. Buffy grabbed hers from him and filled her mouth with the thick, cold sweetness, letting it soothe the burn from whatever Spike had fed her.

Her hot-n-spicy boyfriend was laughing at her as he double-dipped the rest of his fry into the hot sauce and tried it. "Not that spicy," he declared, even as Buffy's eyes continued to water.

"I'll stick to the ketchup," she croaked out, dabbing at her eyes, and taking another drink of the shake—which was clearly homemade with actual ice cream and chocolate sauce and rich extra-creamy cream. She dipped a fry into the shake and mmmm'd as she devoured it—sweet and salty, just like her boyfriend.

Spike's cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling. His girl was sodding adorable, and bloody predictable. No wonder her chowhound of a mutt loved cheeseburgers—like Slayer, like Guardian.

"What?" she asked when she'd swallowed. "Do I have some on my face?"

He shook his head. "Just thinking how much I love you, pet."

Buffy grinned. "You know, every time you feed me cheeseburgers, my clogging arteries make my heart go pitter-patter just for you."

He laughed again. "Well, I reckon I'll just have t' keep that up, won't I?"

"Totally... for like, ever," she agreed, turning her attention to the burger. "Is there anything weird on here? What's this green stuff?"

"Watercress... think of it as fancy lettuce," Spike explained.

"And this other stuff?"

"Sweet onions, sauteed with apples."

Buffy frowned. "Apples on a cheeseburger?"

"Brings out the flavor o' the camembert. Trust me, luv."

She bit down on a grin as she picked up the burger with both hands. "I always trust you, baby."

The Slayer opened her mouth as wide as she could, the crusty bun and thick burger nearly too much for her to bite into, but with supernatural effort, she managed. Her eyes closed as she began to chew, all the flavors of the fresh bread, the perfectly cooked meat, the garlicy sauce, the sauteed apples and onions, and the camembert cheese combining into a near-orgasmic experience. She moaned around the mouthful of food, deciding that even the watercress added a little something to the perfection of the burger. She savored it, rolling it all around on her tongue as she chewed, unable to stop the low moan of pleasure that bubbled up.

"Oh my god," she slurred around the last of the food before swallowing. "This is the best thing I've ever had in my mouth."

When she opened her eyes, Spike was looking at her doubtfully, his brow arched in a challenge. "Should I leave you two alone? Parts o' me are feeling underappreciated here, pet."

Buffy laughed and set the burger down, then began licking the yummy juice from her fingers. "Well, maybe not the best thing ever... just the best thing in the last hour," she amended coyly.

"That so?" he asked in a low timbre, reaching for her wrist and pulling her hand to his mouth. He took up where she'd left off, his tongue seeming prehensile as it wrapped around her digits, sliding up to her fingertips, one by one, his blue eyes heated and staring directly into hers.

Buffy's heart took off at a gallop, pounding against her ribs and sending her boiling blood surging through her tingling body. She watched him slowly take one finger into his mouth, then another, and another, swirling his tongue over them very much like she'd done his cock earlier.

"Y-Yeah," she answered breathlessly. She ran her tongue over her parted lips, batted her lashes, and lowered her voice. "I hope to have the very best thing again later tonight."

Spike slowly pulled her fingers from between his luscious lips, then touched a soft kiss to each of her fingertips in turn before releasing her. "And what would that be, then?" he rumbled, his blazing blue eyes still locked on hers.

In reply, Buffy's bare foot pressed against his crotch under the table, her toes wrapping around the head of his cock as her heel nudged his balls. Spike's eyes fluttered closed, and a low moan vibrated the air between them as she began to slide her foot up and down the hardening length of his dick.

"My boyfriend's cock. It's served at room temperature so my palate can discern and experience all the yummy nuances and subtleties of the flavors of his cum," she explained breathily. "It's salty and spicy and a little bit coppery. And the texture is smooth and creamy... it just slides right over my tongue. It's utterly sublime."

Spike could only moan his agreement.

-X-

Chapter End Notes:

Hope you enjoyed this food porn section of the night. More of their date to come!