Riley was right.
Sometimes it was nice just to drive.
The car radio filled the silence between them. It was the one-sided kind of silence where half the party was sitting in awkward muteness while the other half was enjoying the shared calm, and Buffy was struggling to find any words to fill the void as Riley relaxed in peaceful obliviousness.
The wedding had gone well. There had been a lot of high collars and sweeping skirts.
But apparently being the best man meant Riley was allowed to bow out of the costumed opulence and just wear a suit, leaving Buffy feeling out of place beside him in her lilac satin dress with the square low-cut neckline she'd managed to score from a vintage clothes shop downtown. He could've told her that.
And not to get really complain, but her feet were completely unblistered, not one blister, not a single stepped-on toe.
Since they'd been sitting down the entire reception.
"Oh, I can't dance," Riley had said, wincing when she enquired whether he'd be the one leading, or her. "Just the swaying side-to-side variety."
She'd blinked. A little stunned.
"Oh," she'd offered meekly, her thoughts jolting through a reevaluation of his initial invitation.
He'd said there'd be dinner, drinks, and dancing. Joked that it'd be the 'full ballroom operation'...
He'd never said they'd be doing all three.
Still blinking, Buffy had watched Riley's eyes widen, reading panic surge across his face as her "Oh" landed home.
"Uh, but I can…um…" he started, not quite offering to spin her on the dance floor, but certainly making it apparent he would offer, as long as the offer was definitely going to be rejected. "I can…" he said again, gallantly waiting for her to interrupt him.
"No! No, that's okay!" Buffy sputtered, backpedaling from the grimace she'd caused on her date's face. "I… I prefer intimate conversation anyway," she added coyly, deftly hopping over the pit of disappointment in her stomach, offering a consoling smile as he smiled back in relief.
It would have been the truth if she hadn't spent three nights being twirled in Spike's arms. If she hadn't been expecting the same. More, even. She'd expected that electric spark between them as Riley's hand flattened at her back and his fingers closed over hers. If she had that with Spike, there should've been fireworks with Riley. There should've been soaring high notes in the music as he dipped her low.
After the effort she'd put in, she felt a little owed some whirlwind romance.
A little voice in her head had snarked, haven't you been fully whirled already? and she tried to shush it. Regardless of the U-turn in expectations, she would have enjoyed intimate conversation. Would've made a point to enjoy it.
If there had been any intimate conversation in the first place.
After two hours of polite small talk and a rather long lecture about Professor Walsh and her covert Initiative curriculum, Buffy was extremely relieved when the evening began to naturally unwind and he escorted her back to the car, feeling like she'd spent the evening only ever finishing half a sentence.
She let streetlights race in yellow stripes over her as the silence stretched between them. In the silence—now that she had a moment to think, to really dwell—her mind played back over Riley's impromptu speech about giving them a shot. How insistent he'd been. How he hadn't taken "No" for an answer. How he hadn't been interested in her opinion on the matter.
And she'd had good reasons for that 'no'. Super good ones. Infallible.
But he'd been charming, and tall, and smart but with a hint of bashfulness, and… and…
And compared to those cool blue eyes still setting her on fire, there was nothing but a flatline.
That was it.
The end.
Her expectations had crash-landed and now they were out for the count to the point where not even tall and smart with a hint of bashful charm could revive them. This evening—the height of what should've been so much something—had been so much nothing. It should have been fun but it was just… empty.
She should have felt swept off her feet.
They could have at least swayed.
She firmly fought against thinking about the last time her breath had caught in her throat as an enraptured gaze drank her in. About the last time her heart had beat so fast it felt like it was a hummingbird.
And about the 'whom' that had caused it.
…She guessed she just didn't have any more feet left to sweep.
Riley's car pulled up at Revello Drive, and Buffy sighed.
It was nowhere near as late as it should be.
Darn well 'early' even. She could head inside, and shower, and even do part of her Psych 101 assignment before 'late' would even make an appearance. That would absolutely be the sensible thing to do.
Except…
Except after all the work she'd put in, she should get at least one blister for her troubles… Right? And seriously, she'd bought a dress and everything, and it hadn't even been twirled in yet…
I bet it twirls really well…
She turned, smiling tightly and somehow Riley took that as a cue to lean in. She stopped him with her hand flat on his chest. Might as well rip the bandaid off now.
"Um…" she started confidently and then cleared her throat as he sat back in his seat with a confused look. "Uh," she repeated. "Okay… So… We need to talk," she finished and managed not to flinch at the cliche.
And after they finished talking—she decided—she'd see if she couldn't just get one twirl out of the dress before it was relegated to the back of her closet.
Just one more dance. Before she put it all away.
xXx
"Antonio!" Camilla's wide eyes sparkled, her hair windswept from the storm buffeting the stained glass windows as heads turned in the church pews. The Count stalled halfway in his reluctant vows, a look of aching love mingled with relief breaking across his face. "Mi amor," she whispered, but her voice carried regardless. "We are meant to be together—"
Spike's attention dropped from the TV roped to Giles' bathroom cabinet at the sound of the front door closing ever so gently.
He waited, recognizing the slightly unsure footsteps crossing the living room. The clink of keys being picked up had his gut tensing, heart rising into his throat. He had been all but certain she wouldn't be back, all but sure last night had been his final shot and after the moment had been severed between them, that would be it. Back to barely suppressed disdain and likely a ramp-up in name-dropping of the true love of the week, whatever his name was.
He'd been an emotional pendulum swinging between short-tempered bitterness and an incomprehensible ache he was refusing to recognize as anything other than lust, but it was working its way up from the pit of his stomach and settling uncomfortably in his chest.
Thankfully, there'd been no witnesses to the mood swings, the only evidence of them being the multitude of cigarette butts filling Giles' Kiss The Librarian mug, his last smoke left burning down in his hand…
And then there she was in the doorway, staring down at him with a strangely shy expression on her face.
Spike swallowed and forced his bravado back into place.
"Hello, Bambi," he said, taking in a drag of his cigarette, letting his eyes drift over her form, a smile tugging at his lips. "Don't you look nice?"
Buffy sucked in a cheek, holding back a smirk and ever so slightly failing.
"Ballroom-y?" she asked.
He ground out his cigarette.
"Downright opulent."
"Where's Giles?" she asked, taking a seat on the lip of the tub.
"Not here," he answered with an unconcerned shrug. "Think this is his third date this week."
"Ew," Buffy muttered, and Spike chuckled.
"So…" He pushed down with his feet against the base of the bath to slide out of his slouch. "Throw a lot of rice, did you? Step on a lot of feet?"
"Nope," Buffy answered, staring at her lap. "We didn't really get to do the whole… round-and-round-in-a-ballroom part."
Spike tilted his head, trying to meet her eyes.
"Oh?"
Buffy let out a sourly amused huff and met his gaze. "Riley can't dance. We sat it out."
Spike felt the clench in his throat before it raised itself to his teeth, disbelief rolling over him and out of him, encompassed by a slow breathless huff of air out of his dead lungs.
She smirked as he rolled his eyes, letting them close on a low groan.
He shook his head. And laughed.
"Bloody hell…"
"I know," Buffy said.
"What a waste," he sighed. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Should be a crime," he said, "having a pretty girl all dressed up and not taking her for a spin."
She glared at the double meaning dancing around his words, but there was something underneath it. Some lingering look of curiosity that she was trying to hide.
"Does seem kind of wasteful," she agreed poutily. Cautiously tiptoeing into what she likely considered forbidden territory and waiting for the alarm bells to sound.
Spike held her gaze. Trying to give nothing away. Trying not to notice the way his chest fluttered as though his dead heart had skipped a beat.
But he was never very good at ignoring those sorts of feelings.
He stretched a bit closer to her with a clink of his shackles.
"Well," he started, sounding so nonchalant he was sure it overshot the mark entirely. "Since your dance card's all empty and what not…?"
He caught the jump of her pulse at her neck. Was sure he'd just witnessed her own heart taking a leap, even as her response was carefully neutral.
She unlocked the shackles.
Out in the living room she waited as he started the music on the CD player, letting the disc play on from its last stopped place. Soft guitar strumming accompanied by the low bass like a heartbeat made his skin prickle as she watched him.
"These
Arms
Of
Mine…" the track warbled. "They are lonely,
Lonely and feeling blue…"
Spike snapped his fingers at her.
"Hand."
Buffy smirked and slid her palm over his.
"These arms of mine, they are yearning,
Yearning from wanting you…"
He pulled her close, and she obligingly slotted in against him.
She moved with him seamlessly, following his lead perfectly, not a step out of place.
"And if you…"
She tugged against his hand.
"You're dragging me around."
"Would let them hold you…"
There was a daring look in her eyes and Spike bit down on his tongue to stop the disbelieving chuckle bubbling out of him.
God, she'll be the death of me…
"Leading," he argued on cue as she seamlessly turned with him.
"Oh, how grateful I will be…"
Buffy raised an unimpressed eyebrow that didn't hold a single atom of sincerity. "Dragging."
"These arms of mine, they are burning,
Burning from wanting you…"
"Gentleman always leads, luv," Spike answered, his hand flattening at her back, the shiver up her spine registering in his fingertips and echoing in his heart.
"Are you sure that's you, Spike?" she parried, still swaying so nicely along with him, but he couldn't help the lecherous grin overtaking his mouth. "I don't think you count," she added quietly.
The goad was too much of a gift, but he didn't hesitate, the hand at her back pressing her forward until her body was flush with his.
"These arms of mine, they are wanting,
Wanting to hold you."
"Need confirmation, pet?" he retorted like he knew he was expected to, and this time her hackles didn't raise at all, no furious glower. Just a delicious look of hunger that he'd only ever seen when she'd been on the cusp of snapping his neck. And a handful of times just before he'd kissed her. "Promise you'll find me so gentlemanly."
"And if you would let them hold you,
Oh, how grateful I will be…"
Her cheeks burned that same furious shade of cherry red, but there was no "hard pass" this time, and Spike grinned.
"You're blushing."
"Come on, come on, baby,"
Just be my…
Buffy shook her head slowly, clearly hypnotized.
"Just be my lover, oh,
I need me somebody,
somebody to treat me right,
I need your arms,
loving arms to hold me tight.."
"I'm not blushing."
He grinned, tilting his head affectionately as she smiled back.
"Still fighting it?" he whispered.
She didn't reply for what felt like ages. Until the song wound to its end and the last track on the CD started.
"Nights in white satin,
Never reaching the end…"
"No," she said just as quietly. "I'm not fighting it."
"Letters I've written,
Never meaning to send…"
She fit against him perfectly, moving with him and Spike swallowed a sigh.
I'm done for…
"Beauty I'd always missed,
With these eyes before…"
He drew her closer. Flattened their bodies until there was no more space between them. Buffy's pupils dilated so wide he might have been able to see himself in them, shimmering emerald pools his reflection was drowning in.
"Just what the truth is,
I can't say anymore…"
He didn't hesitate. He knew the song and the words that were lining up to fill the air, and he'd rather be kissing her at that moment than looking into her eyes since she'd likely read the emotion in them clear as day.
As soon as his lips were on hers, Buffy was kissing him back like she'd been starved for it all day. Like she'd been waiting for it all her life.
"'Cause I love you,
Yes, I love you,
Oh, how I love you!"
She pulled him closer. Kept pulling but he was already walking her backward, her hands linking at his neck as he pushed her by the hips. Her back hit the bookcase and something cracked this time.
"You're so destructive," she whispered against his lips.
"Maybe you just bring out the best in me."
She tasted so sweet, the flavor of her filling his mouth with each kiss partnered with heavy breathing and lingering little sighs that had his spine tingling. She was starting to gasp, needing air he supposed, so he dipped to her neck, grazing his lips across her jugular, and then his teeth. She didn't even flinch.
"Tell me again how it doesn't mean anything," he said as she leaned back and wrapped her legs around him, the hemline of her dress rising dangerously high.
"…Just what you want to be…
You will be in the end…"
"It doesn't mean anything," she repeated, shivering violently as his teeth scraped the neckline of her dress off her shoulder.
His hands under her thighs let her take the weight off her arms, purring into her mouth as she locked her fingers at the back of his neck.
"I love how bad you lie, pet."
"And I love you,
Yes, I love you!...
xXx
Oh, how I love you!..."
Buffy moaned as her feet hooked behind Spike's hips, the evening's bland taste finally forgotten as Spike's teeth dragged her lips between his.
It was an impending disaster.
People could get hurt, (Riley definitely already had, if that injured look in his eyes as he'd driven away was any indication, her "no" finally accepted).
But she just didn't care. Not with how insistently he kissed. Not with how firmly he pinned her against the bookcase. Not with how hard he gripped her thighs. She could feel the dig of his nails in her skin. Could feel the fever burning between them, his skin warming against hers.
Besides, disasters were like her thing. Her calling. Totally her wheelhouse. She could handle a bit more. It was worth the gamble if that flame unfurling in the pit of her stomach was any judge.
"Oh, how I love you…"
Her fingers twitched of their own accord, flush against the back of his neck, then cupping his jaw, trailing down his throat to the collar of his shirt.
I want this, she thought to herself, dragging her nails across his collarbone and down the dip of his chest, causing a low growl from Spike's throat and a meaningful roll of his hips. Don't want just getting-the-job-done. Don't want bare minimum and overly gentle. Want someone who makes it feel like I'm burning—
"Buffy," Spike moaned, burying his face in her neck, and suddenly the words in her head were given free rein over her mouth.
"I want you." Her fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, trembling slightly from need. "Spike, I want you."
"You have me," he answered, giving her barely enough space to breathe, barely enough space for her to think, to focus on anything but the way her hands were working their way down his front to the buckle of his belt. Her head swam. Three evenings of heated words and close contact had her shaking in his arms now, her thighs starting to tremble against his hips.
"I have you?" she whispered, swallowing around nothing as his lips brushed the pulse point at her neck, a nod grazing her cheek.
"Got right under my skin," he purred. "Know I did for you too, honey. What's the point in denying it?"
He made room for her hand as she pressed down the zipper, breathing shallowly, hypnotized and kiss-drunk, while she worked her hand under the denim until hard flesh met her fingers.
"I'm not denying it."
Maybe I will…
Maybe I will later…
Maybe I won't.
"Nights in white satin,
Never reaching the end…"
Her hand wrapped around him and Spike groaned long and low, pressing himself into her, rolling his hips in time with the squeezing rhythm she instinctively started.
"Buffy…" His fingers kneaded deeper into her muscles in encouragement, and as the head of his cock grazed her core, across the lace Buffy had taken a gamble on beneath her dress, he let out a tight moan. She felt the glass of the bookcase at her back once more as he pressed closer, and adjusted his grip on her to tilt her hips towards him.
And then she was sinking down onto him, her underwear brushed aside and her hands clinging to his shirt. His eyes snapped to hers, the breath halting in his throat for what felt like forever. Seemingly endless minutes of muscles shivering, lungs straining, the pair of them stuck in a slow-motion moment.
And then Spike crashed into her, kissing her so hard it crushed her lip against her teeth, a warning jolt from his chip causing a snarl against her mouth but it didn't lessen the intensity of his kiss.
"Would you hate me if I told you how much I've thought of you like this?" He savaged her neck with his mouth, tongue, and teeth bringing her out in a fever. "So wet. So tight." Another kiss and his tongue swiped over her bottom lip, still stinging from his kiss. He groaned and swelled further inside her. "Little bit of blood in your mouth. Bloody hell, I could die."
"Don't joke," she begged before his cock hit a spot inside her that had her keening, muscles winding to piano-wire tensions, and without warning, he did it again.
She gasped, her calves tightening in a bruising grip, and he groaned as she sank her nails into his shoulders. "Always knew you'd be all claws."
Buffy could have screamed, one hand in Spike's hair—fraying what little gel was keeping his locks in their helmet—the other digging her fingernails into his arm through his shirt, clinging onto sanity as Spike rocked into her.
Feels so good, she thought deliriously. Don't think I'll be able to stop…
"We don't have to, do we?" Spike's eyes were on her and Buffy realized she'd spoken those words out loud, her heart tripping painfully in shock and apprehension. "We could keep dancing, Slayer. Couldn't we?"
"Beauty I'd always missed,
With these eyes before…"
Buffy swallowed. There really was so much beauty in him. So much pleading, so much greed for her, and she knew her face held the same expression.
She nodded frantically, and kissed him so deeply she thought she'd really faint this time, that flickering flame burning in her gut catching light as he kissed back, his hands curling underneath her, howling along with her as she broke against him.
"'Cause I love you," the song crooned over their panting, her arms winding tighter around him to keep him close.
Maybe it was an impending disaster.
Maybe people could get hurt.
But right now it seemed worth the risk.
"Yes, I love you.
Oh, how I love you…"
Author Note
I am so ashamed it's taken me so long to finish this birthday fic for Claire! Happy half-birthday, queen! I hope it's everything you wanted and more!
So much gratitude to the betas who have helped on this work and have truly made such a difference to my writing—I really can't say thank you enough—and to the lovely people who leave kudos and comments thank you all so so much!
Please do spend some time on Spotify checking out the tracklist, they're some of my favourites (my mother owned Giles' Love In The Sixties compilation, these are the songs of my childhood!)
(Sixties) Love to you all
See you on the next one!
Geliot
Tracklist
Unchained Melody - The Righteous Brothers
Silence is Golden - The Tremeloes
Needles and Pins - The Searches
With A Girl Like You - The Troggs
Just Like A Woman - Manfred Mann
These Arms of Mine - Otis Redding
Nights in White Satin - The Moody Blues