Strip Snap by Lilachigh

The story so far: Season Six - Buffy is having a secret affair with Spike. At her 21st birthday party she tells him she wants to be a normal girl and Spike has arranged to take her on a midnight picnic to celebrate.

Chp 2 Normal Girls

Drops of water cascaded like silver rain from the tips of the oars as Spike rowed them out across the moonlit lake. Buffy lay back on a pile of cushions in the stern of the boat, trailing her hand in the water. 'Where did you learn to row?" she murmured, watching in lazy delight the pull of the muscles in his arms and shoulders under his black tee shirt.

Spike smiled at her, his teeth a white gleam in the darkness. "Oh you learn all sorts of things when you've been around as long as I have, pet. But rowing - well, I learnt how to punt when I was a student at Cambridge - at the university. But that's far harder than it looks! If you're not clever you can end up clinging to the bloody pole in the middle of the river while your lady love floats away down stream in the boat! So I stuck to rowing!"

Buffy smiled. She liked the way Spike could make jokes about himself. Angel had never mentioned the man he'd been before he became a vampire. She knew he'd been called Liam and lived in Ireland, but little else.

She stretched out her legs, watching the white feathers on the hem of her dress flicker in the breeze. Her bare feet reached Spike's legs. She realised he'd kicked off his boots when he got in the boat and she rubbed her toes against his as they pushed against the wooden slats.

"Minx!" Spike growled. "If I catch a crab with the oars, you can swim for the shore, missy."

Buffy tossed her head. "Don't tell me that a few little toes can put you off your stroke?"

Spike hissed and she watched in glee as the material round his groin suddenly stretched. "You've never complained about my stroke before," he said, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden seat.

"Well, they say practice makes perfect!" Buffy wondered where on earth flirty Buffy had come from. What was it about Spike that made her so relaxed? Why didn't it matter what she said to him? She realised that she never had to think before she spoke. When she'd been with Riley, she'd always sort of edited her words before they left her mouth, worried that she might upset him in some way, behave in some way that would offend or bother him. With Spike she could say or do what she liked.

But was that how normal girls behaved? Buffy bit her lip. She wasn't a normal girl, but she wanted to be. She dreamt of a normal life, even though she knew she'd never have one. Surely normal girls tried to be as nice as they could be for their boyfriends. Being the Slayer shouldn't give her any right to be a flirt or a bitch. If anything, she should surely make more of an effort to be normal?

But with Spike - things were complicated, different. And tonight - she took a deep breath and relaxed - she wouldn't worry about it. Tonight was Spike's idea of normal, carved out of a dream, a fantasy and she was going to enjoy it - whatever happened.

As he rowed, Spike watched the emotions chasing each other across her face. He knew her so well, guessed what was going on in her busy mind. He loved the way she fought with herself. The flirting, the giggling, all so natural to his Slayer, then the worry that she shouldn't do any of that, then the slight shrug of her shoulders, the way her creamy breasts heaved as she took a deep breath and decided that she would do what she wanted, for tonight, anyway.

Spike frowned. He'd wanted this evening to be normal for her, but in his heart of hearts he knew it wasn't. How would he know how to give a girl a normal evening? He'd been around for too many years, seen too much, done too much. He was a vampire without a soul and the girl he loved was the Slayer. So not much normal there, he thought dryly. He dug the oars in savagely and the little boat jerked forward through the water, shattering the golden ribbon of moonlight that lay across the black water.

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked at last, dreamily gazing out into the darkness.

"Late supper," Spike replied, his bad mood instantly vanishing at the sight of her relaxed face.

"Spike, even you can't conjure up a restaurant in the middle of a lake."

The vampire glanced over his shoulder, pulled hard with one oar and swung the boat round a little. Buffy realised that the darkness she'd been looking at was, in fact, the darkness of a thickly wooded island. There was the softest shimmer of light where the sandy beach edged down to the water. With one more thrust, Spike drove the boat up onto the beach, leapt out and pulled it higher up, out of the wavelets. He swung Buffy into his arms and carried her through the sand and up into the shelter of the tree line. When he put her down she could feel soft grass cool under her feet. She shivered slightly in the night breeze and heard leaves rustling around her.

"Stay still, Slayer," Spike whispered and left her standing in the dark.

For a second she stood swaying until her eyes got used to the black and she began to see vague images. Then there was the flick of a lighter and there was Spike, sprawled in front of her on a rug, lighting two squat blood red candles in deep bronze dishes. The flames leapt up, casting flickering shadows across his face. Buffy felt something dark and primitive stir within her. She stepped forward and sank down next to him, watching, fascinated as he pulled a wicker picnic hamper out from under a bush behind him.

"We didn't have champagne at your birthday party, Goldilocks," he said. "Thought that was a pity. Every girl should have champagne on her 21st birthday."

"Do I get to drink it out of a silver goblet?" Buffy whispered as he twisted the foil top with brutally strong fingers and the cork gave way without a fight, the same way she always did when those same fingers pried apart the most private parts of her body, slid in and out, rubbing, petting, goading her over and over again into a shuddering, shaking, screaming...

Spike grinned at her. "Sorry, pet, plastic tumblers were all I could get at short notice."

He poured the bubbles out and pressed the cold tumbler into her hand. His gaze never left her face as he raised his own drink. She'd never seen him with this expression before - so blatantly happy, so intensely passionate. It scared her. She, the Slayer who was frightened of nothing and no one usually, was frightened that she could cause a man - even a dead one - this sort of pleasure. No man had ever looked at her like this before. With love, perhaps, affection, tenderness. But never this all consuming desire. It didn't make sense. She was the girl men left, not the girl who caused this blizzard of violent feelings.

"A toast, sweetheart. Happy birthday, Buffy Summers. May all your dreams come true."

She stared back at him, her lips made the shape of Thank You, but no sound came from her mouth. She drank deeply, gasping as the dry bubbles hit the back of her throat. Oh God, the way he was looking at her. Why wouldn't he look away? She couldn't breathe any more. She was going to pant, she was damp between her thighs as if - She could feel herself begin to tremble, her hand was shaking. The champagne slopped over the edge of the tumbler and splashed across her throat. Spike growled and leant forward so fast she didn't have time to breathe. His tongue licked up the trickle as it slid down between her breasts and Buffy moaned deep inside her head at the sensations he was giving her.

He pushed her back onto the rug as one of the candles guttered sharply in a gust of wind and went out. He pushed her dress slowly up her legs, inch by inch, his tongue following his fingers. The white thong she was wearing stood no chance. The lace broke and was tossed aside. She moaned in anticipation, whining softly when his fingers just played with the curls.

She spread her legs wider, inviting him, demanding, begging, insisting - "Spike, please, please, don't stop, please - Oooooh"

She shrieked as icy cold champagne was poured over her and as her hips rose sharply off the rug, a mouth and tongue dived into the bubbles, licking and sucking and drinking.

Then, without warning, his fingers joined in and the internal pressures were building and building and oh god please don't let him stop, please don't stop, oh god waves and waves of red hot pleasure that were too much, too much, too much and he sent her screaming her release into the darkness as the last candle was blown out by a gust of wind and above them, lightning flashed and the heavens opened.

As the rain slashed down, Spike rolled on top of Buffy, sheltering her a little, but within seconds they were both soaked through, her beautiful white dress lying a few yards away, a sodden mass. She didn't even notice - all she wanted was him. She tore at his jeans - her hands as strong as his, tearing at the zip until it broke and she could yank them down to where he could kick them off. Now she had his body all to herself. She ran her hands over him, listening to the moans that were coming from her throat being joined by the sounds he was making. Water cascaded off them but all she wanted, needed, was to have him inside her. She was made to take him. There was a part of her that only he could touch and she had to have it - now!

Lightning cracked in the darkness and for a second she could see his face - eyes bright and feverish, tongue licking his lips, then he was moving again and she linked her ankles together behind his back and heard him grunt as he sank even deeper inside her where it was hot and silky and wet, wet, oh god, the rain was slicking off them but the fluids coming from her were hot, boiling.

'What - do - you - want - me - to - do - Slayer!' he pounded out with each thrust.

"I need, I need," the breath left her as his pace quickened and he changed his angle slightly to hit against that place inside her that only he could find.

She was keening now, a high kitten noise that grew and grew as he destroyed all the barriers she'd ever erected against giving in to love. She could feel the surge as he grew larger and harder and then everything went black and red as her orgasm hit her, not once but over and over again as her screams sent him wild and he roared into the night as his climax shook his body so hard she found it difficult to hold him.

She was shuddering when she came back to the real world. The rain on her bare skin was so cold. The only warm things she could feel were Spike's lips pressed to her breast. Which was ridiculous. How could he feel warmer than her? He was dead. A terrific crash of thunder made her jump and Spike shook his head like a dog, drops of water flying in all directions. His eyes focused with difficulty and he glanced down at her. "You're freezing, pet," he said with concern and with a swift movement he was on his feet and pulling her naked form up with him. "Got to get you indoors and warm."

"W..w..here. H...h..how?"

Spike grabbed his duster from where it was lying in the mud and wrapped it round her. Then he picked her up, strode across the grass and pushed through the heavy undergrowth.

'W...w...where we going?" Buffy gasped.

"Indoors!"

"Spike - I can walk. You don't have to carry me!" she protested, struggling to get down.

"Slayer, you might not have noticed, but neither of us have much on in the way of clothes! The thorns in these bloody bushes will cut you to shreds. Be grateful my skin is thicker than yours! And stop wriggling or else..."

"Or else what?"

He looked down at her briefly and grinned. He had water dripping from his hair but his smile was as wicked as ever. "You, Slayer, are turning into a right flirt tonight. If that's what one glass of champagne does for you, remind me to give you more!"

She lay back in his arms, the duster keeping off most of the rain as he half ran through the undergrowth. It was pitch black, except for the streaks of lightning and she knew she wouldn't have been able to see more than half a yard in front of her.

Then, suddenly, they were out of the wind, under a shelter of some kind. In the next lightning bolt, Buffy saw the gleam of a swimming pool and a small timber framed building. Spike let her slide from his arms and she huddled inside his coat, shivering.

"We need to get inside," Spike said.

"How? It's all locked up and - "'

The tinkle of breaking glass answered her as Spike used a rock to smash one of the little window panes in the door, reached in, swearing as the sharp edge cut his arm and unbolted the door.

"You've done that before," Buffy muttered, but all her thoughts of taking the moral high ground and refusing to go inside vanished as the thunder peeled overhead and another shaft of lightning cracked down nearby. She fled through the door and tried the light switch, but there was no power. Spike's slim pale shape brushed past her and she began to laugh. "You're really not dressed for breaking and entering! And we're dripping all over their nice polished wood floor."

Spike muttered something very rude under his breath and threw open a closet. "Here - Miss Flirty - put this on and dry your hair. I'm not going to be the one to face the Little Bit if you go down with pneumonia!"

He flung a thick towelling robe at her and she slid out of his duster and into the soft enveloping folds with a groan of relief. There were towels, too, to rub her hair and by the time she was half way dry, Spike had lit the fire already laid in the grate.

In the light of the flames, Buffy glanced round the little room. "What is this place?"

"Reckon it's a sort of cabin pool room. Film star who owns this place likes to party when he's here. But that isn't very often. The big house is all shut up. I checked that out when I was having a look at the lake earlier."

Buffy curled up on the rug in front of the fire. She was drier now and warmer. Her muscles still jellyfied from what Spike had been doing to her when the storm broke. Her memories warmed her even further and she felt her cheeks flame.

Why was she acting like this? Nice normal girls didn't have mad passionate sex in the pouring rain. They didn't roll stark naked around in the grass and scream. She tried to remember sleeping with Riley. It was difficult, like trying to recall a dream when you're just waking from a deep sleep. Even when magic had been around, their love making had been - well, luke warm compared to what she'd just done with Spike. But that, surely, was normal. Riley was a normal guy. He knew how a nice girl should act. He hadn't seemed disappointed by her performance. Buffy found herself trying not to laugh. She was imagining Riley's face if she'd done to him what she'd just done to Spike.

Was she very bad? Had she come back from the dead with her moral and physical compass wrong? She tried to picture herself explaining to Willow what she did with Spike, how he made her feel and couldn't. Okay, Willow and Tara - no, she wouldn't even let herself imagine what they did. Xander and Anya, euhhh, no. But whatever it was, she was sure they had boundaries, limits they didn't exceed. She no longer knew what her limits were. And, she faced the answer with an honesty that surprised her, with Spike she didn't think she had any limits.

She yawned. It was no good. There was no solution to be found tonight. She could quite happily have gone to sleep, but that was not possible, of course. They would have to leave as soon as the storm passed, find their clothes and get back across the lake to their car.

Spike had found a short, midnight blue robe. His hair had dried in a riot of tiny curls and Buffy watched as he fed the fire with little sticks, as gravely intent as a small boy. That was one of the other things she lov - liked so much about Spike. He wasn't always talking. He didn't brood like Mr Dark and Broody, but he could let her be, let her think, without always having to chat. "Didn't anyone ever tell you you shouldn't play with fire?" she asked.

Spike shot her a quick grin. "Many times, pet. But then, I've always been bad, always liked to take chances."

"I don't believe you were bad at all when you were young," she said and he looked up, startled.

"What put that ridiculous idea into your head?"

"Oh, things you've mentioned over the years."

He shook his head, frowning. "Don't go getting wrong notions about me, Slayer. I've done too many things you wouldn't want to hear about and if you did, well, maybe you wouldn't be too happy about being here with me tonight."

"I didn't say you weren't bad now - although, hey chip! - but when you were my age. "

Spike stared at the fire. William at twenty-one. He could picture him so clearly, even still remember the unquenchable desire to feel, to love, to experience - something different! Was it possible that he could explain to Buffy who he'd been, the man he'd been before that night Drusilla had decided to make herself a kill mate? Would she understand? Was it worth taking the chance?

The fire blazed up and the flames were reflected in Spike's eyes. Buffy watched. He seemed about to speak, his gaze wasn't on her now, but a long way and time away. She waited. There was a steady hissing as some rain came down the chimney and died on the burning logs. Spike suddenly sniffed and his gaze came jolting back to the present. A deep growl broke from his lips. For a second he went into game face, then forced it away. "Blood, Slayer! I can smell blood."

Buffy wiggled her foot at him. "It's mine. I think I cut my toe on some of that glass when we were breaking in."

"Stupid bint! Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's just a little cut, Spike. It'll heal. Look!"

Spike took her foot and raised it to his mouth. She leant back on her elbows and watched, fascinated as he tenderly, delicately, licked at the cut She shivered at his cool touch, then went hot as she saw he was gazing straight up her leg to where the robe had fallen open across her thighs.

A log cracked and sparks shot up the chimney. Buffy crawled over the floor into his arms, tasting her own blood on his lips as they possessed hers with the arrogance of a warrior with his mate.

She gasped as his hands pulled at the belt holding her robe together ."Again?"

"Oh, yes, pet," he muttered thickly, and tangled his hands deep into the damp blond hair that spilled across her shoulders. 'We haven't even begun yet."

"I thought we were having a normal date," she whispered, feverishly pushing off his robe to get at his smooth skin with her teeth and nails. Geez, he was growing again, so big, so hard. Every time she knew she wouldn't be able to take him in and every time, oh ...

And as his body swooped down on hers she heard him say, "For us, this is normal!"

to be continued