CLOSER TO HEAVEN
By: Passion4Spike
Chapter 3: Closer to Heaven
Chapter Summary:
Buffy and Spike take each other closer to heaven.
WARNING: This is the NC-17 part of the program. NSFW. It's also quite long because I couldn't find any good place to break it up.
Buffy jumped at the sound of heavy, fast footfalls on the porch and the door bursting open.
"I just need to get my math homework. Be right down," Dawn called back over her shoulder as she rushed through the front door.
"No dawdling. Dawdling causes tardiness. Tardiness, I've been led to believe, is a mortal sin in the eyes of the school gods. In Sunnydale, you don't want to tempt fate and see if they take that literally," Xander called after her, stopping in the foyer.
Buffy lifted up off Spike's chest, clutching the warm blanket against the cool air streaming in the open door. She blinked owlishly, trying to clear the fog from her brain and remember where she was. She rubbed her eyes, which were caked with dried tears, and turned to look over her shoulder, toward the sound.
"Buffster! You're back! Everything go okay with the formerly dangerous, now only annoying, evil undead?" Xander asked brightly as he stepped into the living room.
"Umm…" she began, just as Spike raised up, his smirking face coming into Xander's view behind the Slayer.
"Was an absolutely brilliant night," Spike answered for her, his voice dripping with lascivious inuendo.
Xander stopped dead, his face shifting almost comically between surprised shock and utter disgust, as his mind leapfrogged to conclusions that made his stomach turn. "I – you – he— What…" he stammered, waving a hand at the pair on the couch.
Buffy looked from Xander to Spike and back again, the bottom of her stomach falling away in a 'whoosh' of panic. Spike's strong hand closed around her arm, steadying her as if she had tripped, keeping her from falling into that panic.
"Yeah, I … we … handled the problem," she stuttered, trying to remember how to breathe.
Xander's brows shot up. "Clearly you've handled a lot more than 'the problem.' Looks like you're handling another mass-murdering demon as we speak," he chastised angrily.
Spike snorted. "Oh, like your demon squeeze hasn't killed or maimed ten times as many—"
"Not. The. Point," Xander argued, interrupting him.
"I think it bloody well is the point," Spike shot back, pressing Buffy down toward the other end of the couch as he pulled his body out from under her.
"Leave Anya out of this," Xander insisted, taking a step forward as Spike got to his feet.
"Right, then. It's alright for you to 'handle' whoever you please. Seem to recall hearing that the only women you've ever handled were soulless demons … that ring any bells in your lack-brain?"
"Technically, Faith and Cordy both have souls," Buffy interjected, as she tried to untangle from the quilt while the two men closed in on each other.
Xander didn't respond to Buffy or seem to register that Spike was still fully clothed as he took another step forward. "Anya is not soulless!"
Spike barked out a laugh. "Isn't she? So, yer telling me she's a mass-murderer with a soul? Do ya reckon that's somethin' to brag about, then?" he asked, one brow arched, his hands going to his hips.
"I … no! She…! It's … she …" Xander stammered, clearly flustered. "Why don't you just butt-out and keep your filthy hands off Buffy! She needs friends now, not some lovelorn, horny creature-of-the-night taking advantage!"
Buffy finally got herself disentangled from the cover and stood up, interspersing herself between the two men. She held her hands out and pressed them on Xander's chest, facing the brunette, stopping his advance toward Spike. "It wasn't like that. He … helped me," she explained.
"Buffy! It's Spike!" Xander reminded her, spitting the name as if it was bitter poison on his tongue. "He doesn't do anything unless there's something in it for him. And we all know what he wants – Slayer nookie."
Buffy felt her face flush with anger and embarrassment all at once. If anything, she'd been the one after nookie, Spike had only followed her lead. He'd not pushed her or pressured her or done anything but what she'd asked the entire time.
Before Buffy could reply, however, Dawn came down the stairs. "If that's true, then why did he stay after she died? Why did he patrol with you guys? Why did he watch out for me? Help me with my homework? Watch hours and hours of chick flicks? Paint my nails? Make sure I was eating and going to school, make sure I didn't run away, make sure I didn't kill myself!?"
"Kill yoursel— what …?" Xander gasped in shock, but Dawn just keep talking over him.
"What the hell do you think he got out of that, Xander Harris!?" the girl demanded, reaching the bottom of the stairs. "While you were all planning and scheming behind our backs to bring Buffy back, Spike was actually here! Actually talking to me! Actually saving me! Actually…" Dawn's voice broke as she got to Spike's side, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her against him, beneath his protective wing.
"'S alright, Nibblet. Can't expect him t' understand," Spike assured her as the three of them now stood together facing Xander, a united front.
"Xan, I …" Buffy began. You let your friends drive you apart? Of course. More advice from the mysterious waitress in the closed diner. The one who clearly knew much too much about Buffy for any of it to be random.
Buffy took a deep breath and steeled herself before continuing. "Thank you for letting Dawn stay over, but maybe you should go now. I'll get her to school."
Xander stood there, looking from one to the other of them, shaking his head in dismay. "I really don't get you, Buff. You could have …" He waved his hands out, as if encompassing the entire world. "…anyone, but you choose this?" His hard gaze landed on Spike, his head still shaking.
Buffy swallowed and straightened her back, noting that Xander didn't use a pronoun to describe Spike. Demons didn't rate pronouns, did they? They weren't people. Except for Anya, she supposed. "I know you don't understand. I didn't understand your attraction to Anya at first … or Cordelia ever. We don't have to understand each other's choices, Xander, we just have to respect them."
Xander snorted, his glower shifting from Spike to Buffy and then back to Spike. "I'll respect him when hell freezes over."
"Then respect me. I think you owe me at least that, don't you?" Buffy insisted, brushing past him and going over to the still-open door, holding it for him. "You better get to work. You'll be late."
Xander shot Spike another death glare, still shaking his head, but turned and walked toward the door. "Please think about what you're doing, Buffy. He may be leashed, but he's still a monster," he said as he passed her.
Buffy laughed mirthlessly. "Aren't we all?"
Buffy sighed as she swung the door closed as soon as Xander was through it. When she turned around, Dawn was right there, pulling Buffy into a hug. "Do you mean it? Are you and Spike … together?" the girl asked hopefully.
Buffy looked at Spike past Dawn's shoulder, wrapping her arms around her tall little sister. "We're … ummm … it's complicated," Buffy replied. "But …" The Slayer sighed. "I honestly don't know, Dawnie. He's … we're …"
"He loves you, Buffy," Dawn insisted, pulling back to look at her. Her expression was so hopeful, so pleading, it gave Buffy pause.
Hot tears welled in Buffy's eyes and she nodded. "I know," she whispered. "We're gonna …"
"Have pie," Spike filled in, walking over to where the two Summers girls were by the door.
"Pie?" Dawn questioned, turning so she could see them both. "Is that code for 'sex'? I'm not five, ya know!"
"No!" Buffy insisted, perhaps a little too vehemently. "It's code for pie, ala mode … cherry, apple, maybe blueberry."
Dawn's face scrunched up even more. "Ooo-kay," she drawled. "Where will you be having this ice cream covered pie? Cos if it's in the bed…"
"On dates," Buffy clarified quickly. "We're … dating."
Dawn's face cleared, and she beamed at Buffy. "Dating is good. I can support pie with dating."
"You'll probably be the only one," Buffy pointed out with a sigh as she lifted Spike's duster off the rack. "Can I borrow this again?" she asked him.
Spike was still reeling from Buffy's pronouncement that they were dating. Did one date constitute 'dating'? No, there would need to be more, surely. At least two. More dates … more Buffy … more Buffy kisses. Bloody hell! How many soddin' miracles did he owe the PTB now? How much interest did they charge?
"Spike?" Buffy interrupted his racing thoughts, holding the duster up.
His brow furrowed, trying to focus. He shrugged. "Sure, pet."
"Get your stuff, Dawn. You're gonna be late," Buffy said, slipping the duster on over her PJs.
"You are not taking me to school in fluffy sheep pajamas and furry pink slippers!" Dawn insisted. "If anyone sees you, I'll die!"
Buffy gave her a saccharine smile. "Then my transformation to a mother will be complete. Let's go." Buffy grabbed her purse and keys and opened the door, ushering her whining sister out. She stopped and looked back at Spike. "Will you stay? I won't be long."
Spike gave her a smile and a nod. "Reckon you'll have to kick me out to get rid of me," he assured her. "Anyway, sun's up. Stuck here, aren't I?"
Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. "As if that ever stopped you," she muttered as she followed Dawn out to the Jeep.
** X-X-X-X-X **
Spike paced the floor in bare feet while Buffy was gone. Sometime during the couple of hours on the couch he'd kicked his boots off and hadn't bothered putting them back on. This wasn't the first time he'd paced this house. He knew it by heart. How many steps were in each room, how many on the carpet, on the tile, on the wood. Where the floor creaked, where the crack was in the tile in front of the sink. Where they'd covered up the grape juice stain on the carpet with the footstool. Of course, then it had been Dawn he'd been worried about. He'd spent hours pacing the floor as she slept above, listening for her to call out in her sleep, for her sobs after she woke from the nightmare, so he could go to her, comfort her.
Now it was different.
The phone hadn't stopped ringing nearly the whole time Buffy'd been gone. He didn't answer it. He let it go to the machine. Apparently, the whelp had spread the word about him being here with Buffy this morning. Willow, Giles, even Anya and Tara had called and left messages, sometimes more than once, each one more urgent, insisting Buffy call back before she did anything she'd regret. The only one who hadn't called yet was Angel. He was expecting that at any moment, though.
Spike sighed. Her friends were gonna bugger this up. Why couldn't they keep their big, fat, ugly noses out of it? She needed help. Help they weren't giving her. Help he was sure he could give if she'd just give him a chance, and not let them talk her out of… pie.
He considered ripping the phone out of the wall, erasing the messages, smashing the machine. None of that would really help in the end, though, would it? They'd just come over, descend on the house like a swarm of feral locusts. And this buggering chip kept him from doing sod-all about them! He sighed. It wasn't like he could hurt them anyway, was it? Buffy wouldn't want that.
"Balls," Spike growled, making another loop around the first floor, through the kitchen to the dining room and back to the foyer. Just then, he heard the Jeep pull into the drive. Well, here it was, then. He dropped down onto the couch and waited for her to toss him out, sending him back to the cold solitude of his crypt. His miracles had run out.
"Hey," Buffy greeted him when she came in, stopping to remove his duster and hang it up by the door.
"Hey, yerself," Spike replied, trying not to sound too annoyed or distraught. "Manage t' kill the bit, then?"
Buffy snorted a soft laugh and came into the living room. "No, unfortunately I couldn't find any good reason to get out of the Jeep, and none of her friends came close enough to see me. I guess that particular rite of passage will have to wait for another day."
She plopped down onto the sofa next to him, curling her legs up under her as she leaned toward him. Spike wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close, wondering if this would be the last time he'd feel her against him, feel her warmth, her softness.
"How many?" she asked, trying to count the number of blinks on the answering machine.
Spike snorted derisively. "Stopped countin' at ten," he admitted.
Just then, the phone began ringing again. Spike closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Here it was then. Who would it be? Giles? Willow? Xander? Angel? His money was on Angel, and then that would be it. Buffy would send him packing. Would Spike forever be in the enormous git's shadow, watching the women he loved leave him whenever Angel crooked his little finger?
Buffy pulled away, slipping from beneath his arm, and stood up. She walked over to the phone and turned the ringer off, then turned the volume down on the answering machine.
Spike watched her, not sure what to make of that. At his confused look, she shrugged. "This way they can just keep leaving messages and hopefully won't feel the need to actually show up," she explained. She detoured back to the front door and locked it before re-joining him on the couch.
"Ya … aren't gonna answer it?" he asked tentatively.
"Nope," Buffy assured him as she resumed her original position, tucked up beneath his arm, and rested her head against his shoulder. "Willow and Tara will be okay with it after I talk to them. Willow feels so guilty, she'll do anything to try and wipe the slate clean. Giles …" Buffy shrugged. "On the plus side you never kidnapped and tortured him, or killed his girlfriend, so… I think he'll deal. Anya honestly doesn't care, but she'll be on Xander's side, of course. I'll talk to him some more. I've got an ace up my sleeve with him that I've never played. It should at least shut him up."
Spike's brows rose higher and higher as she spoke. Clearly, she'd been expecting this. She'd already thought it through and had … chosen him? "What about Angel?"
Buffy shook her head in confusion, turning her face up to look at Spike. "What about Angel?"
"I … he … won't be pleased," Spike stuttered.
"Last time I checked, Angel wasn't my keeper," she pointed out.
Spike arched a brow at her and Buffy sighed. "I saw him after… when I got back. It was him being all lecture-y and pissed that I hadn't called him to help with Glory, and me being all harsh and pissed because I couldn't call him to help with Glory. And I couldn't even tell him why I couldn't tell him. We fought. It wasn't pretty.
"Angelus is always inside him, just waiting to get out. I couldn't trust him to know what Dawn is, what her blood can do. I'm not naïve enough to think that I'm the only one who could break the curse." Buffy sighed again and shook her head. "Angelus tried to send the world into a hell dimension with Acathla. I wasn't about to hand him another dimension-opening Key in the form of my sister.
"Angel is my past, Spike. Not just for that reason; there have been other things, too. He can be … displeased all he wants, as long as he does it in L.A."
"You sure, pet?" Spike asked softly, looking down at her, his hungry heart once again surging with hope.
Buffy turned her face so she could look into his eyes as she snuggled against his side. "I have a new motto: Carpe Pie. No one else seems to know the magic of pie, where the pie is or how to bake it just right. You gave me perfect pie … heavenly pie. I should've eaten it last night, but from now on, I'm pie-girl."
Spike pursed his lips to keep from grinning like a love-sick schoolboy. "Don't forget the ala mode bit," he reminded her.
Buffy grinned up at him, her hand sliding slowly up the length of his thigh. "Golden crust smeared with thick, creamy goodness? All melty and sweet, hot and cold, hard and soft, mingling into a blur of heaven on Earth? How could I forget that?"
Spike swallowed as blood began to race away from his brain. "Are we still talkin' about pie?"
Buffy's smile widened as she lifted up, swung one leg over his and settled onto his lap. "No," she whispered against his lips, taking his face between her hands. "Kiss me," she murmured, her breath a warm caress against his lips.
Spike closed the short distance, nipping gently at her flesh, his teeth tugging softly at her bottom lip, his tongue tracing over the bow of her mouth. She returned the teasing gestures, their lips meeting and parting, tongues darting out, tasting the other, teeth nibbling against soft flesh.
Spike's hands roamed down her body, found the hem of her pajama top, and slid beneath. He was met with warm, soft flesh. Her stomach quivered beneath this touch as he caressed her, working up along the curve of her waist. She moaned as his hands found the round swell of her breasts and his thumbs circled her nipples, bringing them to hard, eager nubbins in an instant.
"Too many clothes," Buffy murmured against his mouth as she reluctantly pulled back and stood up. With all the blood suddenly settled below his belt, Spike's eyes were glazed over, but he took the hand she offered him and stood.
He watched as if outside himself as she led him up the stairs. Was this one of his dreams? Dreams where he was alone with Buffy didn't usually involve so many clothes … especially not flannel PJs covered in fluffy sheep. Usually didn't have to walk up the stairs, either, just … *poof* and they were in the bed. He licked his lips – they tasted of Buffy and … coffee? That wasn't normal dream-fodder either.
"Ignore the boy band posters. I really need to redecorate…" she excused as she led him into her room. "I guess I've been too busy being dead and broke and all."
Spike looked around. He'd seen it before. The Bot had stayed in here in those dark days during. It all looked different now, though, with Buffy standing here in the midst of it. It was her room. Her posters. Her dresser. Her stuffed pig. Her bed. Her life.
Her life. As in alive. As in not lost. Not dead. Not gone forever. Alive. Here. With him.
His gaze finally landed back on her. She was watching him, biting her bottom lip shyly, her hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of her pajama top.
"Is it … okay?" she asked tentatively.
Spike swallowed and nodded. "Perfect," he assured her, closing the short distance between them with a single step. "I love you, Buffy," he breathed, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek gently.
She looked down, breaking eye contact with him, her hands curling into knots in front of her. "I don't know what to say when you say that. I know … I know what you want to hear, but it's not … I can't…"
"Shhh," he breathed, touching his thumb to her lips to quiet her. "Don't have to say anything, luv. Just hear it, believe it, let it soak in. One day your heart will know what to say." One day she'll tell you.
She looked back up and their eyes locked. "Will 'I want you' work for now? O-Or … maybe 'I need you'?"
"Is there a difference in those?" he wondered, his gaze softening as he studied her.
"Yeah. 'Need' is like … oxygen or water or … coffee," she explained. "'Want' is like chocolate o-or some kickin' boots on clearance at the mall." She stopped a moment and shook her head slightly. "No, that's 'need' too … Ummm…" A small smile hovered at the corner of her mouth and she shrugged.
A slow smirk curved Spike's lips, his eyes glittering again with avarice. "I'm happy bein' needed or wanted, Buffy," he assured her. One day she'll tell you. Spike knew he was putting a lot of trust in cryptic words from a waitress. Hope. Whoever she was, whatever she was, she had given Spike this. Hope.
"A-re you sure? I-I'm sorry I can't…" she continued, growing completely serious again.
"Never been more sure of anything," he breathed. His hands reached for the buttons on the front of her shirt, but Buffy stopped him with a small shake of her head, her hands covering his. She reached down and clasped the hem of the top and pulled it up over her head without undoing any of the buttons, dropping it on the floor at their feet.
Spike's eyes feasted on her, drinking her in, sliding over gentle curves and soft skin. Buffy felt her body flush in his wake, as if he'd physically touched her with the heat of his gaze. She was very sure no one in the history of Buffy had ever looked at her like that before. Like he'd die of thirst if he couldn't touch her; like he'd drown if he did.
His hand reached out, tremulous, as if she were made of the most delicate porcelain and would shatter with the least pressure. His fingers skimmed over the thudding artery on the side of her neck, feeling her fiery blood as it surged through her. Life. His demon called out for it. A sip. A taste. A drop.
No. Not invited. Perhaps one day. Not this day.
Spike's fingers trailed lower, across her collarbone. Smooth skin. Trembling flesh. Beauty beyond his wildest imaginings. His palm cupped one breast. Delicate. Like a flower. Supple and warm beneath his touch. Gooseflesh rose, racing over her skin, a shiver of anticipation tingling down her spine, settling deep in her belly.
Spike bent and captured the bud with his full lips, encircling the rosy peak with his tongue. Damp. Cool. Molten fire. Buffy moaned, her back arching slightly, pressing against his mouth, his lips, encouraging more exploration. Her hands found their way to his shoulders as he continued to worship her flesh with tender touches, silken kisses, utter adoration.
Buffy had never felt anything so completely amorous, so loving, and yet so intense. How someone so strong, so inherently violent and zealous could touch her with such exquisite delicacy she had no idea.
"So beautiful you are, Buffy," he breathed against her damp nipple, and another surge of desire blazed across her skin, like ethereal wisps of ecstasy engulfing her in their embrace.
She cleared her throat, shifting slightly. "Your turn," she whispered, reaching out for the buttons of his overshirt. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unbuttoned it, moving slowly down from his chest over his flat abdomen. When the shirt hung free, she slid her hands back up his cotton-clad torso, beneath the shirt and then down his arms, letting it flutter silently to the floor.
Spike's own body thrummed with the tension, the visceral need building like a volcano within him, as he watched her. If he'd had a heartbeat, it would've been exploding through his chest right then. He could imagine how it would feel pounding against his ribs like a bass drum – she made him feel alive again.
When the overshirt fell away, he reached up and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, lifting it off over his head to reveal the hard muscles and rigid lines of a marble statue come to life. Buffy's hands reached out, needing to touch the smooth flesh as he'd done hers. Her fingers danced over the hills and valleys of muscle, the six-pack abs, the bulge of pectoral, the hard line of his collar bone, the round ball of deltoid. His skin was so perfect, so smooth and soft, but the muscles beneath were solid, like Michelangelo's masterpiece which he'd clearly been created from.
Spike's arms moved beneath her palms, the biceps tightening and relaxing as he unfastened his belt, letting it fall open, dangling from the loops of his jeans. Buffy's bottom lip was once again captured by her teeth as she focused her attention lower. Her hands took over from his, finding the button of his jeans and undoing it deftly, before going to the straining zipper.
Buffy ran her hand down the length of the bulge, atop the dark denim, drawing a low moan from Spike. If his body was made of marble, then his cock had to be made from titanium. She felt the flames of her own desire building, growing hotter and higher by the moment. How would he feel inside her? Thrusting. Driving into her. She wouldn't have to hold back with him; could lose herself in the feeling. God, she wanted to know how that would feel. To just let go. She wanted to feel him moving against her. Stretching her to his girth, filling her with his length.
"Ummm …" Buffy began, swallowing nervously. "I don't want to … errr … catch anything vital in the teeth," she explained. "I'm guessing there are no boxers between that zipper and … vitalness."
Spike smirked and made an adjustment through the denim before sliding the zipper down with practiced ease. "Can catch any part of me with your teeth, pet. Won't hear me complain."
Buffy tried to think of something witty to respond, but her full and undivided attention was drawn to his cock, now released from the straining denim. Her hand wrapped around his shaft, just beneath the bulbous head, and Spike moaned again, his eyelids fluttering closed.
Her hand was so warm. So strong. Wrapped around him like a dream come true. But his dreams hadn't done her touch justice. His hips quivered, wanting to thrust against her, as she drew her hand down his generous length, and then back up in a mercilessly slow stroke.
"Buffy … bloody hell," he breathed, his voice dripping with desire.
"You're … wow … I mean … wow," Buffy stammered, her eyes finally flicking back up to his when she felt his gaze upon her.
A smirk stretched the sinfully sensuous curve of his mouth, his blue eyes glittering with smugness.
"Don't get cocky," she chastised sternly, but a smile played on her lips.
Spike arched a brow. "Too late for that, pet," he replied, curling his tongue against his teeth salaciously.
Buffy laughed nervously. "I guess that's true," she agreed, releasing his cock and sliding her hands down his slim hips, taking the denim down with them.
Spike stepped out of the last of his clothes, leaving the jeans in a rumpled heap on the floor. "Your turn," he said, mimicking her words as his hands settled on her hips and slid beneath the soft fabric of her pajamas. He felt the lace of panties beneath, and made sure to snag them, as well, on his way down, his hands gliding over the flare of her hips and down her smooth, shapely legs.
The aroma of her desire hit him like a freight train as he knelt before her, the fluffy sheep flannel joining his jeans on the carpet. She stepped out of them, sending that intoxicating scent fluttering through the cool air, spinning Spike's head with the power of it.
"Need to taste you," he whispered, kneeling in front of her, nuzzling against the small triangle of neat, dark curls at her center. His tongue darted out, dipping into the chalice of her passion, tasting the essence of her desire. Heaven. His heaven. Could he bring her with him? Closer to heaven right here, right now? He could try.
"Need or want?" Buffy breathed back as shivers of anticipation trembled through her, her hands gripping his strong shoulders to steady herself.
"Both," Spike murmured against her hot skin, as he touched kisses over her mound, then along her hip, moving slowly up, over the flat of her stomach, the round curve of one breast. His hands followed the line of fire fueled by his kisses, soft touches that left tingling sparks in their wake all along her body.
Buffy was pretty sure her heart would explode out of her chest at any moment, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps, her pulse thudding in her ears as her blood began to boil. There suddenly seemed to be a decided lack of oxygen in the room. Was Spike breathing? He needed to stop with the unneeded breathing and leave some air for her.
When he'd stood all the way back up and his lips found hers again, he swept her up into his arms, strong and sure. The kiss broke only when he set her down on the soft bed, determined to devour her, to fill that need within him, to find his heaven, but even more determined to lift her back to hers.
Buffy slid back on the bed, her gaze never leaving the vampire who was drinking her in with his eyes. He moved like a big cat, a predator, graceful and deadly, but the adoration in his gaze made her shiver with desire, not fear.
"So beautiful, Buffy," he breathed as he slipped between her luscious thighs, draping her legs over his shoulders. "Gonna taste you now, luv."
Buffy lifted up onto her elbows, watching his tongue dart out and slip between her damp folds. When the firm tip of his tongue touched down on her clit, she jerked against him and her eyelids fluttered closed.
"God, yes … Spike, so good," she murmured, getting lost in the feelings he stirred in her, in the swirl of tingling butterflies that peppered her insides. "More … like that, yes … God … yes."
"Like this?" he asked, changing to softer licks and sucks against her clit.
"Oh … yes …"
"Or this?" he wondered, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue, teasing her, barely touching.
"Yes … Spike … like that…" she cried.
"Or this …" he continued, sucking her clit between his lips and worrying it gently with his teeth.
"Jesus! Yessssssssssssssssss!" was the enthusiastic response as her hips jerked against his mouth, her body on the verge of complete and utter detonation.
"Tell me if there's anything you don't fancy," he teased, grinning against her as he continued tasting, sucking and licking, sending tremors of pleasure shooting out like lightning bolts down her legs. Buffy's muscles twitched and jerked out of her control as he made love to her with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, then his fingers.
Buffy's juices flowed like slick, warm nirvana onto Spike's tongue, coating him with the very essence of her. Her passion. Her strength. Her desires. Her wants and needs. He drank her down, never having tasted anything so powerful, so perfect, so close to heaven before. Slayer. Woman. Ally. And now lover. She was everything he'd dreamed of and more. Vocal. Passionate. Eager. Fervid.
Her body responded to his every touch, every murmur of adoration. Teasing her drew demands for more. His most zealous attentions had his name pouring from her lips like liquid fire. She was magnificent. Her passion only fueled the flames of his love, overwhelming him with just how much his own heart could expand to contain it.
Buffy began to float in the pleasure he was pouring over her, her eyes blinking open to watch him devour her, his face covered in her juices, lapping at her hot skin, ravenous, starving. And then another too-intense flood of pleasure would wash over her as he discovered another spot that sent her reeling, and her eyes would have to close again as she drifted away beneath his ministrations.
Spike's tongue knew no mercy, and she asked for none. No one had ever given her so much pleasure for so long, leaving his own needs unmet. He lavished her with bliss, touching places that no other lover had ever dared, teaching her things about her body that she'd never known. She stiffened when he began toying with her ass, teasing her with his tongue.
"Don't like it, pet?" he asked before flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin again, licking a line of cool heat from her taint to her puckered hole and back again.
"I … I … ummm … you don't … have to …" she stammered uncomfortably even as beads of white-hot pleasure fired through her veins, growing by the second.
"Wasn't the question, was it?" he prodded. "Just feel … don't think," he suggested as he added a finger to the attentions he was giving her. "How does it feel?"
Buffy swallowed, nervous but intrigued, watching him. "I … ummm… a little scary?"
He looked up her body and met her eyes. "Trust me?"
Trust him, he won't let you down… but you need to drop your walls, take the first step and let him in.
Buffy bit her bottom lip, not sure this was exactly what the waitress had meant, but then nodded once realizing that, yes, she did trust him.
Spike's gaze softened at her nod, his dead heart seeming to come alive just a bit more inside his chest. He dipped his mouth down, lowering his gaze, as his tongue began teasing her taint again.
"Tell me how it feels," he urged again as his slick finger slid gently inside her puckered hole, not far, just enough to draw a breathless gasp from her lips. He began turning it this way then that within the tight ring of muscles, igniting fires that Buffy had never realized existed before.
"Jesus … Spike …" Her words devolved into an incoherent stream of strangled moans, but her body answered for her. She began to quake and shudder with the forbidden, decadent pleasure of it. She felt like she was flying apart and then slamming back together, shattering and reforming over and over, burning in the lambent flames of bliss.
Spike growled against her clit – deep and rumbling – sending vibrations of complete and utter ecstasy washing over her like ripples in a pond. Wave after wave rolled through her, over her, lifting her higher and higher upon their powerful wings. Her spirit reached up toward the dancing stars above, so close now at the peak of the wave, her fingers grazing through the sparkling guardians of heaven.
In that moment there was nothing else. Nothing but this. Nothing but feeling. Nothing but pleasure. Nothing but heaven. And then she was plummeting, falling from the crest of the wave, an astral freefall through the tapestry of time and space, through warm sunshine and sultry nights, through silken kisses and whispered vows. Falling back into the arms of the man, yes, man, who loved her. Who would do anything for her. Who took her closer to heaven.
Buffy came back to herself gasping for breath with the power of her orgasm, her skin damp, shining in the soft daylight drifting in her window. She looked down to find Spike looking up at her, his lips glistening with her juices, his eyes bluer than she'd ever seen them. She felt like she could fall into those eyes, drown in the sea of adoration that swam in them. In that moment she wanted more than anything to be able to return that look, to give him the love he so freely gave to her.
Her eyes welled with tears …knowing he may never see that look reflecting back at him. She came back wrong; it just wasn't inside her anymore. It may never be inside her. After all he'd done for her, for Dawn, even for her friends, now that she actually wanted to, she just wasn't capable of giving him even that crumb.
But she did want to. She at least wanted to be able to choose. She felt trapped in the dark, unable to truly feel, but there had been sparks. Moments where she could touch those feelings again in the glowing stars. Spike had given her those moments, had given her some hope that she could find her way back – and he'd promised to help her. Or kill her. How deep must his love be?
"Shhhh… Buffy, pet …" he cooed, sliding up her body and taking her in his arms. "Didn't mean … bloody hell, never got that reaction before."
Buffy let out a half-laugh, half-sob and wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her. Her anchor. He was the only one strong enough. "It's not you, it's me," she rasped.
Spike snorted and pulled back to look at her. "Know that, don't I? Cos I'm bloody incredible," he teased before kissing the salty dampness from her lashes. "Sorry, luv … I…" he began, but honestly didn't know what he was supposed to apologize for; he didn't know what he'd done wrong.
"Shhh," Buffy stopped him, touching her lips to his, a chaste, delicate kiss. She tasted herself on his skin, his mouth covered with her warm, salty cum, and deepened the kiss. She thrust her tongue between his lips, tasting herself there mingled with the complex flavors of Spike. The familiar tobacco. The tingle of whiskey. The coppery tang of blood. The burn of something spicy. The hint of something sweet. How could there be so many nuances there? The answer was obvious, it was Spike, after all.
Spike. The vampire who was loyal to a fault. Who would not give up no matter what. Who drove her demons away, at least for a while. Who took her closer to heaven than she dared hope. The vampire, the man, who loved her.
You can laugh, and love. Live. Truly live. Spike loves you. Trust him, he won't let you down… but you need to drop your walls, take the first step and let him in.
Well, even if her heart was still locked in the dark, unable to open for him, her body was more than ready and willing. "Make love to me, Spike."
Spike pulled back from the kiss, his eyes so filled with love that Buffy thought she could feel it spark a tiny light in the pit of her own battered and scorched soul. How could he convey so much without words, with just a look? How could a look be so tangible, be something that you wanted to wrap up in, drown in, and never come out of?
"I want you," she whispered. It was what she had to give him. She hoped it was enough.
"I want you," he replied, his voice a rich rumble of desire. Spike lifted up onto his hands, shifting his hips between her thighs. Buffy wrapped her legs around him, reaching between them to guide his hardness into her.
Their eyes locked and held, neither one daring even to blink in that moment. Everything in the world seemed to stop. There was no sound beyond their ragged breathing. There was no scent but that of their desire. There was nothing else in the world but them. This moment. This feeling. This surrender to each other.
Spike pressed forward, his hardness slowly spreading her tight corona of sensitive flesh open as he slipped the head of his cock inside her. He stopped there, barely within her pulsing walls, and took in a very much needed breath. Paradise. Nirvana. Seventh Heaven. How many names were there for this feeling? There was only one that came to his mind, however, "Buffy…"
"Spike," she rasped back. As he slid slowly deeper, filling her, those butterflies inside her turned to lightning bugs and showered her with hot, brilliant sparks of pleasure and ever-building desire. There was only one first time with someone. She hadn't had many of those in her short life, but none had been like this. So very loving. So tender. So full of devotion. It literally took her breath away, the ability to breathe somehow forgotten for several moments as she let herself get lost in his eyes, in the feeling of their connection, in the love he was pouring over her.
When his hips met hers, his cock buried within her hot, supple channel to the hilt, Spike lowered down onto his elbows above her and kissed her deeply. Buffy's hands slid up and down his sides, hips to shoulders, fluttering over hills and valleys of muscle, touching him as tenderly as he had her. Her body tingled from head to toe with little sparks of electricity, quivering her muscles and dancing across her skin.
She wanted him to move against her, to thrust and grind, she wanted to feel the length and girth of him filling her over and over, but at the same time she didn't want him to ever move again.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her lips before trailing kisses along her jaw to her ear. He kissed and suckled at her neck, and made her squirm with need. Her pussy pulsed and throbbed around his cock with every touch of cool lips to hot skin, and all she could do was moan with the pleasure of it.
What did she want? This. That. The other thing. Everything all at once.
"You," she finally gasped.
"You got me, pet," he assured her. "Actually not sure I could get away if I wanted to. Which, luckily, I don't." He demonstrated by trying to pull his hips back, but her legs were wrapped around him tight enough to prevent him from moving.
"Oops! Sorry," she squeaked, an embarrassed flush adding even more heat to her face as she loosened her hold on him.
Spike grinned down at her. "Don't be. Nowhere else in the world I'd rather be held prisoner," he admitted.
She bit her bottom lip adorably. "I guess I'm out of practice."
"No worries, luv. We can reacquaint ourselves with the art of making love together, eh?"
"I've been dead. What's your excuse?" she wondered, her tone teasing.
Spike's expression sobered. "The only woman I want was dead."
"Spike …" she sighed, cupping his face gently with her hands. She hadn't meant to ruin anything. Hadn't meant to take that smile from his lips, or that light from his eyes. "I'm here now. Remind me how this dance goes."
She pulled his face down and kissed him again, and his hips began to move against her, a gentle, swaying slow-dance to a dreamy tempo. Her body responded in kind, her hips tilting and lifting to meet his, pulling back, pressing forward with him, meeting in the middle. Breathy sighs and soft moans mingled with whispered adorations as they glided together and apart, taking and giving in equal measure.
"Love you, Buffy. So bloody much. You've no idea … feel so good, pet. Bloody hell… so perfect, so warm and soft and … Jesus, Buffy … never dreamed … not like this."
"Never anyone like you, Spike. Don't know how … how … so tender … so strong. Come with me … heaven, Spike. Touch the stars … with me."
Buffy felt like a feather and Spike was the air lifting her higher and higher on a gentle breeze. Up into the sky, as blue as his eyes. Up into the clouds, as soft as his touch. Floating. Weightless. Drifting. Carefree. Warm breezes and sunshine.
They swayed, their bodies rocking together, pulling apart. A slow waltz sprinkled with kisses and soft touches. They made love. Delicately. Seductively. Two becoming one. A symphony of passion, an elegant ballet. There was no rush to their movements as they reveled in each other, drowning in the other's eyes and getting drunk on kisses.
Buffy pressed on his shoulder, shifting her hips to the side, and they rolled together until she settled atop him. Buffy's hands roamed over his exquisite musculature, getting lost in how his chest heaved with unneeded breath as he watched her, his eyes unable to look away from the angel atop him. Her hips rolled to the beat of the same gentle dance, sliding over his glistening cock, her juices hot and slick as they slipped down, coating his groin, his balls, soaking into the sheets beneath.
Spike's hands settled on her hips a moment but then began to move, his fingers dancing up, tracing the inward curve of her waist, then the swell of her breasts. His hands cupped the swaying flesh, hot and heavy in his palms, teasing her nipples with gentle strokes of his thumbs. Each time he grazed her sensitive flesh he could feel her channel tighten around his cock, as if the two distant parts of her were directly connected to one another. If he'd asked Buffy, she would've told him they were.
She leaned forward into his touch, changing the angle of their bodies, and gasped softly as his cock hit new and interesting places inside her, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure.
"So bloody beautiful," Spike murmured, teasing her nipples, sending tingling flashes of fire spreading over her skin, coursing through her blood. "Could watch you like this for hours … days. Buffy … never knew how beautiful you were until now."
Her eyes blinked open, looking down at him. It was almost like she'd never seen him before this moment. His eyes – yes, she knew them, but had they always been this intense? Like pools of sapphire that beckoned her to drown in their depths? His mouth, usually smirking and smug, was so soft now, his lips so full, begging to be kissed. His stark cheekbones highlighted by that solid jaw. A jaw that could, and had, stood many a punch from Slayers and demons alike, but that now simply needed to have kisses showered over it.
Buffy leaned down further, her hands pressing against his hard chest. Her silken hair fell like a veil around their faces as she began touching warm, soft kisses to his skin, beginning with his scarred brow. She continued to rain kisses over his face, each one a drop of molten lava against his cool skin. From the scar on his brow, down one sharp cheekbone, to the tip of his nose, his full lips, his strong chin, along his jaw to his ear. Spike moaned and squirmed beneath her as she found a spot behind his ear that sent jagged bolts of pleasure racing through his blood, which had mostly settled in the pit of his stomach and lower.
Buffy smiled at the reaction, making mental notes of all the places that made him moan or curse or buck his hips. His cock slipped from her tight channel as she slid further down his body with her kisses. They both sighed, missing the connection immediately, but both enjoying her exploration of his body too much to stop. Buffy's soft tresses trailed along his skin like liquid sunshine, across his neck, his collarbone, as she peppered him with kisses. Her tongue darted out to tease one small, round nipple. Were they as sensitive as hers?
"Bloody fuck…"
Apparently so.
Buffy stayed there for a while as Spike's hands began moving over her hot skin again, up her back, over her hips, across her abdomen. His cock swelled between them as she kissed heat over his hard chest, teasing and nibbling softly at his nipples, her hair flowing over his skin, golden strands of silk. His groans and curses and sighs of her name filled the air, combining with her own moans of pleasure, weaving together in a tapestry of pleasure floating all around them. Buffy slid down his body, exploring every inch of soft, smooth alabaster, kissing and licking her way over his perfect abs, giving each bulge and dip of muscle its due. Her tongue slipped into his belly button and Spike jerked, his stomach quivering, trying to pull away from her.
"Ticklish, are we?" Buffy teased, exploring that tidbit just a little more as he wriggled beneath her.
"Don't be daft," he insisted, though his body belied his words by trying to hide his bellybutton behind his spine. "Vampires aren't bloody ticklish!"
"You are," she laughed, trailing her hair over the sensitive spot as his curses become more adamant and less sultry.
God it felt good to laugh. It caught her completely off guard. She looked up and met his eyes. Buffy expected to see annoyance for teasing him, but instead she saw awe in their blue depths and crinkles at the corners from the smile curving his sumptuous mouth.
"Even more beautiful when you laugh, luv," he whispered, reaching a hand out to cup her cheek. "So bloody beautiful."
She laid her hand over his and leaned into his touch. "Does that mean I get to keep tickling you?" she taunted, a sinister grin curving her mouth.
Spike's smile turned feral and he trailed his hand down from her cheek to cup her breast. "If that's how ya want to while away the hours, then I'll not stop ya. I'm your willin' slave. But I reckon you could find some more pleasurable uses for this hot, tight little body."
Buffy bit her bottom lip and let her eyes wander down from his face, over his chest and abs again. "You could be right," she breathed, wrapping her hand around his shaft. "This bit seems like it could be incredibly useful, though I'm not sure I'd use the term 'little' to describe it."
Spike's smug grin returned, his tongue curling against his teeth. "At your service, pet," he offered, his eyes slipping closed as she began to stroke his length, still glistening with her juices and warm from being inside her heated depths.
"Mmmm …" she hummed, slipping down between his legs. "I think this needs further investigation."
Buffy settled between his legs and set to exploring with her hands, her lips, her tongue. She trailed her tongue up from the base of his shaft to the head, leaving a hot, wet line of saliva in her wake. She tasted herself on his flesh and it sent a shiver of licentious excitement racing through her. She traced her tongue back down his hard column, savoring the flavor, remembering how it felt to have him inside her. How he filled her, touching every yearning part of her womanhood. She hadn't lied when she'd said no other man had been like him, and that included not only the fierce tenderness, but this magnificent specimen of manhood. And she wanted to get to know every decadent inch.
Buffy dropped her mouth lower, touching kisses to his scrotum. His cock twitched with each kiss and lick and nip of teeth against the soft skin of his ball sac. She loved watching that, feeling that. She felt powerful. She felt sexy. She felt free.
Free. Like when they were racing the stars in the desert. She didn't have to hide anything here. She didn't have to hold back or pretend. If she wanted to stop now, and just be held, she knew Spike would do that. If she wanted to stay right here and explore everything about his body for the rest of the day, he'd be fine with that, too. If she wanted him to make love to her over and over, he would. If she wanted him to fuck her, he would. If she cried, he'd kiss her tears away. If she laughed, he'd laugh with her. If she wanted to sleep, he'd hold her. If she wanted to scream, he'd scream with her.
Free: Not under the control or in the power of another; able to act or do as one wishes.
How long had it been since she'd felt free? Since long before she died. Perhaps even since before she'd been Called. She wasn't really free; not like she'd been in heaven. She was still the Slayer, or the Slayer once again. The world outside these walls still needed her to fight, to give, to keep it safe. But right here in this room, behind these doors, with this man, she could be Buffy. And whatever she was, whatever she wanted, whatever she said, would be okay.
Did Spike somehow know that? She couldn't remember him calling her 'Slayer' even once since they'd come up here. Buffy. She was Buffy. And right here, with Spike, she was free.
She sucked first one, then the other of his balls into her mouth, lolling them around within the wet heat with her tongue. He cursed and gasped and moaned. His cock jumped and hardened just that much more. She would've asked him if he liked that, but she was sure she already knew the answer – plus, her mouth was full of his balls.
Buffy took her time, kissing and sucking, licking and nibbling on Spike. She discovered if she bit down gently on the soft flesh of his inside thighs that his legs would twitch and jump a lot like hers did when he did that to her. She discovered that he was keen on having his taint licked and his ass teased with her fingers and tongue. She discovered if she slipped a finger inside him like he'd done her, his body shuddered uncontrollably, and his cock pulsed and jerked as if it had a mind of its own. She discovered that he liked how her hair felt wrapped around his cock, and how it felt trailing over his abdomen … pretty much, he liked her hair, wherever it was touching him. She even discovered a few more ticklish spots, behind his knees and the bottoms of his feet.
"You're bloody killing me, woman," he complained more than once, reaching for her, urging her back atop him, but she resisted all such pleas … for a while.
When she returned her teasing little mouth to his cock, Spike groaned in frustrated pleasure. Her tongue traced around the base of his glans, drawing rough moans from Spike's throat. When she nibbled her way up over the taught frenulum band, Spike cursed and his hips jerked up of their own free will.
"Like that?" she asked sweetly, before touching her tongue back down on that magical spot.
"Bloody fuck, Buffy … Jesus … yes … fuck," he gasped, his hands curled into the sheets on either side of him, holding on for dear life, as he'd been for the better part of half an hour.
"How about this?" she wondered, licking up and dabbing her tongue into the pearl of precum that glistened atop his glans.
"Fuck … yes," he ground out, using all his willpower not to reach down and guide her teasing little mouth down over him. Now that her mouth was back on his cock, he didn't want to jeopardize that, perhaps have her start all over with her tantalizing torment.
"Mmmm," she hummed, swallowing the tangy liquid as she began nipping and licking her way around the bulbous glans, making his cock twitch and jump wildly. "And this?"
"Yes!" he agreed, as his hands tightened on the sheets and the sound of ripping percale joined her hums of pleasure.
"Tell me if there's anything you don't like," she teased, slipping the end of his cock into her mouth and lavishing the head with her tongue. Her hands weren't idle, either, one cupping his heavy balls, the other stroking up and down the length of his shaft.
"Fuck … killin' me! Jesus …" Spike complained yet again, gritting his teeth to keep from thrusting deep and hard into her hot little mouth.
Buffy moaned around his cock, her tongue once again finding that super-sensitive spot on the underside and flicking it gently. It was all Spike could do to keep from spurting into her mouth right then.
"If you keep that up, gonna have a mouth full o' spunk, luv," he warned her as his hips began to move with each stroke of her hand up and down his shaft.
"Mmmmmm…" she hummed around him, dropping her mouth down further, taking as much of his column of steel into her hot, wet mouth as she could. She began to pump him in earnest, her mouth dropping down hard as her hand stroked up, meeting in the middle.
"Fuck, woman … I bloody warned –" he gasped as his control slipped from his tenuous grasp. He thrust up, his hips shuddering out of his control as his balls tightened, drawing up against his body. She could feel the spasms of his orgasm beginning and pumped him harder, swallowing wildly as the head of his cock hit the back of her throat.
A deep, rumbling growl of release and pleasure boiled up from deep in his belly as Spike's cum erupted from his balls, surging through his cock in pulse after pulse of pure bliss. Buffy kept pumping him, urging every drop from his body, sucking and licking and swallowing as fast as she could, not wanting to lose even a little.
"Buffy, holy fuck, woman … bloody buggering fuck!" he snarled as the world exploded behind his closed lids, leaving only the vision of the beautiful woman sucking him off dancing across his vision. Taking him. Demanding everything from him. Her hot mouth and tongue felt like heaven wrapped in sin, her hand like the devil herself had hold of him, squeezing and stroking with wild abandon. It was bloody incredible.
His dreams, once again, had not done her justice. He'd never imagined how strong everything about her would be, from her hot little cunt to her tongue to her lips, even her hands seemed somehow stronger, hotter than ever before. Holy fuck. He wanted nothing but more. More of her. All of her. And to give her all of him, in return. His heart was hers. His mind as well. Now, his body. Completely, utterly under her command.
When Spike's eyes finally blinked open, Buffy was grinning down at him, dabbing his spunk from the corners of her mouth. He nearly spewed another load right then, watching her.
"So, I guess you liked that?" she asked, running her tongue over her lips to gather up any stray drops.
Spike shook his head, unable to speak.
"No? You didn't like it?" she asked, her brows drawing together in confusion.
He shook his head again and tried to say something, but it came out as a squeak.
"Don't tell me I sucked your brain out through your dick," she joked, biting her lip as she waited.
Spike nodded then, making her laugh again, which made the love inside him expand just that much more. "Didn't like it," he finally rasped out. "Incredible that was … you're … Bloody hell, Buffy. Never touched heaven before … 'til you."
"Yeah?" she prodded, clearly fishing, her eyes dancing with satisfaction. "I didn't … hurt you, did I?"
Spike shook his head, reaching for her, wanting to feel her body against his again. She went, willingly. Sliding flesh against flesh, supple curves against sharp lines, heat against coolness. Their lips met, arms wrapped around each other, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Spike savored the taste of himself on her skin, swirling his tongue over her soft lips, dipping into the depths of her mouth. The spicy, coppery tang of his cum mingling with the flavor of Buffy was a heady combination. It was one he'd dreamed of but had given up on actually experiencing. He wasted no time getting drunk on the sharp, sweet flavor and 100 Proof burn of the devilish, heavenly blend.
"Need to be inside you, luv. Need more … all of you," he panted against her mouth as he turned them back over, raining kisses over her face the whole time.
"Now? Again? So soon?" she questioned, but then she felt his hard, yearning cock against her thigh and her question was answered for her.
"Been waiting for this a long time, Buffy … waiting for you," he replied, touching more kisses across her neck as he lined his body up with hers.
"You've been saving up? Like a Christmas Club Account?" she teased, capturing his face between her palms and stopping the frantic peppering of love he was raining down on her. "Is that actually possible?"
Their gazes met, and he saw it. He bloody well saw it. Joy. Happiness. Life. Love? Maybe not. Not yet, but there was a flicker of light there, hiding in the emerald depths of her eyes. He kissed her then. Slowly. Deeply. Thoroughly. It was there. His heart exploded with rapture. He'd touched it. It could grow. She was here. With him. All of her. He could feel it.
"Want you," Buffy murmured against his lips as their mouths slowly parted.
"Want you so bloody much," Spike rasped back, lifting up onto his hands as her legs wrapped around his hips again.
"Show me … show me how much," she whispered as she reached between them and guided him to her, both of their bodies shivering with anticipation and desire. Spike pressed forward, pinning his cock against her slick opening, and their eyes met and held again.
Buffy bit her bottom lip, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her entire body beginning to quiver with raw, feral need. "Show me," she breathed, digging her heels into his ass, urging him on.
Spike's gaze turned sultry, a small flash of gold ripping through the blue, and Buffy grinned up at him. "Show. Me," she demanded, her own eyes sparkling with mischief and passion.
With a grunt of effort and a growl of satisfaction, Spike thrust into her in one brutal stroke. Buffy cried out in pleasure, her body arching against him, taking him.
"Yes! Yes! More!" she demanded, clinging to his shoulders.
Another rumbling growl filled the entire house and he was driving into her madly, thrusting at a bruising pace. The earlier slow dance was replaced by the wild beat of heavy metal, and they both lost themselves in the dance. Wild and free they rose and fell, slamming together and parting time and again. Preternatural strength and passion taking over, driving them into a frenzy of lust and primal need.
Buffy's hips jerked up to meet Spike's, taking everything he was giving and returning it ten-fold. There were no soft sighs now, they became desperate cries, whispered adorations became raucous demands, tender touches became crushing possession. The feather floating in the clouds became a rocket ship which left the atmosphere behind, traveling along the moonbeams, heading straight for the sparkling stars.
"Spike, yes! Harder … God, yes! More! Like that!" Buffy demanded, her nails digging into the hard flesh of his back as she clung to him.
Spike growled with painful pleasure as she broke the skin, and drove against her, plunging his cock balls-deep into her tight, throbbing channel, time and time again. Her cunt clung to him, her inner-muscles closing around his shaft like a vise; pulling out became an effort. The effort was worth it as he thrust back in with powerful jerks of his hips, opening her supple walls to him once again.
"Fuck, Buffy … fucking hell … so bloody hot … Jesus … never … anyone … like … you," he gasped out, punctuating each word with a feverish drive of his cock into her.
His pubic bone slammed down onto her clit with every savage thrust, sending white-hot bursts of plutonium spiraling out from her core in all directions. Each hiss of indrawn breath, each grunt of effort, each growl rumbling over her skin took her higher, up into the darkness above the world, up where only angels dared to tread.
"Spike! Please! More … So good! Harder! Fuck! Yes! Yes … God … fuck … Yesssssssssssssssss! Cumming! Fuck! Yessssssssssssssss!" she screamed as the rocket ship exploded in a shower of sparks and sent her hurtling through a blissful ocean of euphoria. She landed among the stars, their sparkling light caressing her, lighting the darkness inside, reminding her of what might be. What could be. What it was to feel alive. Not heaven, but closer.
Spike's hips jerked, his column of steel thrusting into her wildly, intent on taking her higher and higher, her screams of orgasmic pleasure at once driving him on and unraveling his control once again.
"Cum, Buffy … cum for me … cum hard … Fuck … Jesus, Buffy … FUCK!" he ground out as her body spasmed and shuddered beneath him, her screams dying, leaving her lips still parted in silent rapture.
Buffy's arms and legs tightened around him of their own accord, pulling him against her with uncontrolled Slayer strength. He plunged his cock into her with one last, fierce thrust as the final thread of his control evaporated like mist in the sunrise.
"FUCK! YES!" he exclaimed as shards of ecstasy crashed through his body, his balls contracting, pulsing with their sweet release, shooting volley after volley of cum into her welcoming depths.
Her body milked him, squeezing and releasing, throbbing around his cock, demanding every drop of pleasure from him. He gave it freely, lost in all the sensations she was pouring over him. Her skin heated him all the way to his marrow. Her strong muscles held him to her soft curves tight enough to break him. Her thudding heart and singing blood called desperately to his barely-controlled demon, who was demanding his own rapture. Her silent scream of bliss frozen on her beautiful lips confirmed that she'd found it. She'd found what he'd already seen in her eyes.
"Love you. Love you, Buffy, so bloody much," Spike panted against her as her limbs finally began to relax, allowing him to draw in enough breath to speak.
She touched hot, wet kisses against his face, still holding him with arms and legs. "Don't move, just stay here. So good, Spike … God … you make me feel so good … so alive."
"Stay forever, luv," he whispered against her ear as they melted together in each other's arms.
Not heaven, but closer. So much closer.
**END NOTES**
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story! Please stop in and let me know, I'd seriously love to hear from you! More to come.
Thanks to Holi117 for sharing her time and talent with me by betaing this story. Any mistakes here are mine because I just can't stop fiddling!
Thanks to pfeifferpack for the lovely, inspiring banner!