Passion4Spike put the angst wand away for this chapter and just waved her porn wand over it instead. Enjoy!

Service Unit

Chapter Twenty One – Talking

"Oh… mmmm… that feels good." Buffy opened her eyes about half way and looked down at the fuzzy brown head that was between her thighs. Spike's eyes were closed and he had an intense look of concentration… or maybe pain… on his face as his tongue flicked lightly against her then buried itself deep.

Her eyes suddenly slammed all the way open. She sat up and took Spike's head gently in her hands, pushing him back away from her to sit on his feet so she could look him over. His lips and chin were wet and shiny with her juices, his arms were behind his back… again… and his sweat pants were still pushed down to his knees, but what drew her shocked gaze was his penis. It was hard again… or was it still hard? She could see clear fluid leaking from the tip, the whole thing was a darkish red, and his balls were drawn up tight against his body. Had he come? She thought back as best she could, pushing aside the haze of lust that was trying to cloud her thoughts, but no, she didn't think he had.

He'd given her two amazing orgasms, the second one so intense that she'd passed out from it, and then he'd apparently just sat there, unsatisfied. Then he'd started tonguing her again before she'd even come back from la-la land… she was already close to another mind blowing orgasm… and he hadn't even come once. And, considering the look on his face, which she now took to be pain instead of concentration, it was hurting him.

"Spike?" He lifted his eyes to hers for the barest instant then re-focused his gaze on her crotch and licked some of her juice off his lip. "Did you… uh… did you come?" He shook his head. "Oh. Why not? I mean… uh… did you want to?" He glanced up at her then shook his head again and Buffy frowned. She reached out and lifted his face to hers using her fingertips under his chin. "It's okay if you do, you know. I told you, you're not a slave. You're allowed to come… to feel good."

She dropped her hand and his brow furrowed as he once again focused on her crotch. He looked down at his cock then back to her crotch then lifted his gaze, giving her the pouty face. "You want to have sex again?" He nodded and lifted himself up to his knees, grimacing as he did, then started to shuffle toward her. Buffy laid her hand in the center of his chest, halting his forward progress, then jerked it back like it had been scalded when he looked down at it and frowned. "Oh… No, Spike, I wasn't commanding you not to ejaculate, I swear. You can. In fact…" She used her fingertips under his chin again and looked into his eyes. "I want you to. I feel like complete crap that you gave me two amazing orgasms and you didn't even get one. Remember what I said yesterday? I want to make you feel good, too."

She scooted back then lifted one leg and swung it over his head so she could stand up next to him. She stripped her sweatshirt off and pulled her hair out of its scrunchy then reached down and grasped his left hand, saying quietly as she twined their fingers together, "My turn to make you feel good, Spike." She turned away from him and took a step, tugging on his hand, "Come on."

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He rose to his feet, that red hot poker still lodged in his abdomen, and followed her over to the corner of the living room, taking mincing steps because the sweat pants she'd apparently forgotten about were now pooled around his ankles. When she reached the straight-backed chair she'd been aiming for – an armless, well-cushioned model – she turned around and nodded over her shoulder. "I'm going to do all the work this time, so go ahead and sit down."

He minced around her then turned and sat on the chair, sinking a little into the soft cushion as he looked up at her. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to be doing any of the work. That was his job! And it wasn't supposed to matter if he got off! He was supposed to get her off! As many times and in as many ways as he could manage! Didn't she understand? Didn't she know how wrong this was? Didn't she know that if he didn't show her how useful he could be that… that…

His thoughts were shattered as Buffy straddled him and began slowly sinking down onto his throbbing erection. His eyes rolled back in his head as her heat enveloped him, inch by tantalizing inch. Her tight channel was so hot he thought she would surely ignite his undead flesh and reduce him to a pile of dust. Perhaps the only thing preventing that was the slick wetness that coated his sensitive flesh in her sweet Slayer juices. He wanted to immediately be buried to the hilt in her and also wanted her to never stop the slow, deliciously torturous decent… either option would be the closest he'd ever get to heaven.

He gasped when her hips settled against his and the head of his cock pressed against her smooth, firm cervix. Her supple walls molded to his length and girth as if made for him and him alone. He could feel her muscles working, feel every small ridge and bump inside her, feel her slick heat coating him completely, smell her arousal and the sweat beading on her skin, hear her pulse pounding in her veins. All of it was overwhelming his senses and was nearly his undoing. He began flexing his stomach muscles to ramp up the pain in his abdomen – because his brain wasn't working at peak capacity just now and he was unable to pull up any punishment memories – but he was still swimming in an ocean of pleasure as she lifted off him and sank back down just as slowly as she had the first time, granting both his wishes of being buried deep inside her and having her perpetually sliding down his cock, taking him gently into her silken depths. His eyes rolled so far back in his head that he could almost see his brain. Bloody fucking hell.

Buffy gripped the back of the chair and leaned close, her hot breasts rubbing against his cool chest as she captured his mouth in a deep kiss. Her nipples were taught and eager and he was sure his skin would be branded with their travels when she pulled back. The idea of her marking him with her body sent a shiver of desire down his spine. He would gladly wear any mark she left on him if she would simply never stop doing what she was doing right this moment.

Her tongue delved into his mouth and tangled with his in a silent dance. Their lips sucked and devoured, tasting, teasing… their teeth nibbling and nipping at each other. He'd nearly forgotten what it was like to have a woman kiss him with such passion, such ardor. He'd forgotten how it felt to have a soft, pliable tongue exploring his mouth, to have sweet lips to taste.

His eyes popped open when Buffy suddenly pulled back from the kiss, a small squeal slipping from her lips as her hand came up to touch her mouth. She pulled her fingers away and Spike though he would die in that moment… wished he would die. Blood. On her lips and on her fingers. He'd bitten her… he'd hurt his owner. He swallowed hard, his eyes growing wide with fear and self-loathing. She'd been nothing but nice to him… gentle, patient… and he'd hurt her! Bit her! What the fucking hell was wrong with him!?

Before he could berate himself any further, her lips were on his again; her hands holding his face ardently, kissing him even more eagerly than she had a moment before. He could taste her blood… oh, God, could he taste her blood. Warm and powerful… the blood of a Slayer. It was only a few drops, but it seemed to coat his tongue and infuse his blood with fire. His body seemed to respond of its own will to her feverish kiss, returning it just as eagerly, the worry and fear swept aside by her passion.

Buffy began to rock her hips against him, moving faster now, more urgently. She moved faster and faster as she slid her hands down from his face, over his shoulders, then down his arms to grasp his hands, lifting them up and settling them on her ass. Her hands found the back of the chair again and she used it to brace herself as she continued to ride him, gasping and moaning her pleasure against his lips.

He was going to come… there was no way to prevent it… not when her channel was clenching around him like it was, and not when her lips were on his neck, her teeth nipping at his skin… and surely not when she moaned into his ear, "Come, Spike, please, baby… come with me. Need to feel you burst inside me, fill me up. Please, Spike, come… come with me."

Fireworks exploded behind his eyes as he thrust hard up into her, his fingers tightening on her firm, little rump, the pain in his abdomen completely forgotten. She threw her head back and screamed, her hair tumbling around her shoulders like spun gold, her channel milking him in pulsating waves. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. She was heaven… and she'd taken him inside. He couldn't have stopped his eruption then for all the gold in King Solomon's mines… training or no training… and he had no desire to try.

With a silent gasp of rapturous bliss, he exploded, shooting jet after jet of his seed deep into her as his orgasm lit every cell in his body on fire. His body jerked and his hips thrust into her desperately as his spunk boiled up from his balls in volley after volley of ecstasy, filling her tight channel with his cool essence. His gaze met hers for the briefest of moments before his eyes rolled back in his head once more and the world fell away in a swirl of golden tresses and green eyes.

He woke to Buffy nibbling on his neck as she rubbed her hands up and down his arms, which had fallen to his sides and were just hanging there feeling mostly numb. His cock was still buried inside her and he twitched with pleasurable aftershocks when she flexed her muscles around him. She sat back and he twitched again at the change in angle, his eyes drifting closed with the pleasure.

When he opened them, Buffy was smiling at him. "Everything's changed now, Spike. It's just us… you and me. Not owner and slave… Buffy and Spike. I wanted to make you feel good, so… how'd I do? Do you feel good?"

He nodded dreamily, his head still floating through puffy, white clouds of rapture, and Buffy's smile widened into a grin. "Then I'd call that 'mission accomplished!' I don't know about you, but mission accomplishing always makes me hungry. I'm freaking starving!"

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He shook his head when she asked if he wanted blood… she still needed more time before she could safely give him any, especially considering her recent exertions… and she carefully climbed off him, causing both of them to shudder with another aftershock of pleasure as he slid out of her. She gripped the back of the chair as she swayed slightly then bent down and kissed him until she was breathless before gathering up her clothes and walking unsteadily… sort of limping, really… into the kitchen. She called out to him that she was going to make herself something to eat and that he could get dressed when he felt up to moving.

He sat there, his entire body either tingling or numb, as he listened to her move around in the kitchen. After several minutes, when he felt like his legs would hold him when he stood up, he did so, pulling his sweat pants up as he did. He breathed through the sharp pain from his abdomen as he pulled the string and tied it in a knot. Then he walked over to his shirt as he tried to remember the last time he'd come that hard. He bent down and picked up the shirt as he shook his head. I don't think I ever have come that hard.

Buffy suddenly called out, "My legs are kind of starting to work right again. I'll be out in a few minutes."

He looked over at the kitchen doorway and his face melted into a proud, somewhat smug smile. I've apparently still got it. He pulled the shirt over his head then pressed a hand to his low belly as another bolt of pain flared there. A bolt of shock followed the bolt of pain when he realized what he'd just done. He looked down at his hand. It was still pressed against his belly… and he hadn't had to fight Uposs to do it. He'd gotten up, walked across the room, picked up his shirt, put it on, and was standing there touching his stomach… all without any input from Uposs. In fact, Uposs was being suspiciously silent.

He dropped his hand from his belly as he closed his eyes and called on his demon… and there… way in the back of his mind, he felt something. It was quite a bit stronger than it had been the previous few times he'd tried – he could actually tell that it was his demon now – but it still wasn't strong enough to come all the way forward. It gave him hope, though, that his demon wasn't gone for good, and if he kept at it, he'd be able to call it back.

He opened his eyes, worried about what had happened to Uposs… not that he'd be unhappy if the twat had just decided to bugger off, but that was highly unlikely, considering how deeply its roots were sunken into his psyche. One stunningly amazing orgasm wasn't going to be enough to eradicate that pest, he knew that… but its absence was… disconcerting. He felt a little… rudderless… discombobulated… without its constant reminders of what the rules were – what he should and shouldn't be doing – but at the same time he felt… more put together. He was feeling… more like Spike.

Buffy stepped into the living room carrying a plate in one hand that was piled high with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a cut-up pear, and a pile of corn chips. She carried a glass of milk in her other hand as she made her way over to the small loveseat and sat down. She nodded at the place next to her and said, "Please come and sit down, Spike."

He walked over to her and sat down as she set her glass of milk on the table at her end of the loveseat. She turned to face him, tucking one leg underneath her, and let her knee brush his as she balanced her plate on her thigh. "Okay. Uh… I'm kind of surprised that my brain is even working at the moment… and thank you for that – it was wow… but I had something to tell you before we got… distracted… and telling you probably would have made the uh… distraction… go a little smoother… not that it wasn't amazing the way it was, but… oh crap. See? Brain not fully operational yet. Okay, I'll just stop babbling and tell you." She reached out and gripped his left hand. "You can talk, Spike. I made your trainer take that stone out of your throat."

Spike blinked at her and his right hand twitched where he'd laid it on his thigh. He started to raise it and Buffy nodded towards his neck. "Go ahead, Spike. It's your body and you can touch it if you want to."

He continued to lift his right hand and pressed his fingertips against his Adam's apple, being careful to keep them from touching his silken collar – because Uposs suddenly popped up like a blasted Jack-in-the-Box and reminded him that it wasn't allowed, the bloody tosser – then he swallowed and looked over at Buffy.

She asked quietly, "What's wrong? You can tell me."

He slid his fingers lightly over his throat as the memory of his voice being taken played through his mind, then he mouthed the words, "Didn't hurt."

"Try to say it out loud. You can."

He nodded slightly and swallowed again. He lowered his hand from his throat then screwed up his face in concentration and took a breath. His throat muscles worked and his mouth opened, but no sound emanated from it. He frowned and took another breath then tried again. This time he made a small croaking noise that sounded like someone had squeezed a frog.

His eyes widened and he looked over at Buffy. She smiled and said, "See? You can make noise. Try again."

He swallowed hard then took a deep breath and opened his mouth, straining like the noise was something he was trying to give birth to. The half-grunt, half-wheeze sound he managed was louder than the frog-squeezing noise and he took another breath then started coughing, a smile forming even as his eyes watered. When the coughing had subsided, he very deliberately cleared his throat then blinked several times and looked at Buffy again.

She smiled and he cleared his throat again then grimaced as he swallowed. Buffy let go of his hand and turned to set her plate on the table behind her before she bounced up off the loveseat. "I'll be right back." She went into the kitchen and Spike listened to her move around. He heard water running then the rattle of a tea kettle being placed on the stove. After the thumps of a couple of cupboard doors closing there was a few minutes of silence that was broken only by the sound of tearing paper. The silence was ended by the shrill whistle from the kettle then the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing.

Spike started to reacquaint himself with the mechanics of formulating human speech while he waited – breathing, proper positioning of tongue and lips, activating his voice box at the right moment – as he tried to get his mouth and throat to behave as they were meant to after so long being nothing but a receptacle for demon cocks. He didn't speak loudly, but he did speak, and his voice sounded like his throat was packed full of pea gravel as he named the items that surrounded him in the living room. "Couch, table…" a pause to cough, "chair, telly…" more coughing then two clearings of his throat, "phone, clock…" a long bout of coughing that had him gasping for air, "rug, door." He coughed some more and cleared his throat several times before lifting his hand to massage his neck with his fingertips. His throat hurt like he'd been screaming at full volume for three days… yes, he knew what that felt like, too… and all he'd done was say a handful of words.

He coughed again, grimaced in pain, then cleared his throat and swallowed, looking up as Buffy walked back into the living room. She was carrying a tray that had two steaming mugs, a small pitcher of milk, a plastic bear-shaped bottle of honey, and a pile of sugar packets sitting on it. She set the tray on the table on his end of the loveseat then nodded at the mugs. "It's from a tea bag, sorry, but I still haven't figured out how to make 'proper' English tea. Giles keeps trying to explain it to me and I keep getting it wrong, but if you add enough milk and sugar, it tastes okay. And the honey should help your throat."

She picked up the plastic bear and squirted a sizeable dollop of honey into the larger mug. She lifted the little pitcher of milk and asked, "Do you want milk?" He shook his head and she set the little pitcher back down then pointed at the sugar. "Sugar?" He shook his head again and she stirred the honey into the tea then picked up the mug and handed it to him.

He took careful sips, mindful of the temperature, and felt the heat and honey start to soothe his sore throat. She sat down beside him after doctoring her own mug of tea with milk and sugar and they sat in silence as they drank their tea and Buffy ate her food and drank her milk.

When the mugs were empty and once again sitting on the tray, Buffy resumed her earlier position facing him on the loveseat then smiled and said, "Okay… you were saying?"

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Spike looked a little scared, so Buffy nodded at him in encouragement and he swallowed then took another breath. She nearly started weeping when his voice, raspy and hoarse from disuse and all the coughing, sounded from his throat, "It didn't hurt."

She reached out and grasped his hand, holding it tightly in hers. "That's because I threatened that sadistic little creep with severe bodily damage if he hurt you, and once I thought about what he had to do to remove the stone, I figured out why you hadn't started talking. Installing the stone hurt a lot, didn't it?" Spike nodded. "So since it didn't hurt when it was removed, you didn't think you could talk because there wasn't any pain in your throat."

Spike nodded again and she could see a sheen of tears glimmering in his eyes. He blinked quickly and looked down, breathing slowly for a few minutes while she stroked her thumb over his knuckles. Then he seemed to gather himself and raised his eyes to hers, saying the most beautiful… well, the second most beautiful words Buffy had ever heard, "Thank you… Buffy."