Since so many bad things happen on Buffy’s birthday, last year she declared ‘no more birthdays’, thus forcing Spike to find some creative ways to celebrate the day of her birth. This is his solution. Buffy Birthday Eve.
Colbie Calliat, Magic: http://youtu.be/KifeOPZJJSs
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
Spike Manip in Tux by Darkwaif: http://www.darkwaif.lunarpages.com/lj/darkwaif/ljwarning.html
|Rating / Warnings:||
NC17. Content is only suitable for mature adults. Contains explicit language, sex, adult themes, and other adult situations that some people may find objectionable. If you are under the age of 17 or find any of these themes objectionable – GO AWAY.
Monday night – Tuesday morning, January 17th – 18th, 2011:
Buffy furrowed her brow as she turned in a circle in the dark. She couldn’t see anything, not just because it was dark, but because there didn’t seem to be anything to see. Not only that, there was nothing to hear or feel or smell; it was like she was inside a big black hole of utter nothingness. It actually made her eyes hurt and her ears ring as they strained for some sliver of input, some small noise or a flicker of light. It reminded her of the place where Spike’s trials had taken place in the Wish-World except she didn’t even have the brightly lit floor under her, just infinite darkness in every direction. She’d just fallen asleep a little while ago, so surely this must just be a dream … right? She hadn’t died in her sleep … had she? Oh, that would be so her luck, to survive battles with every big bad in the world, to finally have enough money to actually look forward to going to the mall again, only to die in her sleep.
“You aren’t dressed, luv,” Spike’s deep voice boomed in the silence and Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around to face him.
“Spike! Jesus H. Christ! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a Slayer! It could get you dusted!” Buffy chastised him as she tried to hide her panic and calm her racing heart.
“Not bloody likely,” he smirked at her. “You never could dust me even when you hated me.”
Buffy rolled her eyes and folded her arms tightly across her chest. She was also surprised that she could actually see him in the pitch blackness – that fact alone told her a lot. “Is this your dream? Where the hell are we? Inside a Kazimir Malevich painting?”
Spike’s brows shot up. “Learned more than you let on in that Art Appreciation class, eh?” he questioned with a small smile.
Buffy rolled her eyes again. “That one just stuck with me. I could paint like that. ‘Black Square on a White Field’ … seriously? That’s called a wall! I’ve done many masterpieces in my day if that’s all it takes!”
Spike’s laugh rumbled out and seemed to be swallowed by the nothingness, just barely making it to Buffy’s ears before being smothered.
“Well, that’s a bloody brilliant guess, luv, but no,” Spike told her, waving his hand and changing the black around them to red, then orange, then purple and back to black. “It’s an empty canvas, waiting for us to paint it. What color do you fancy?”
Buffy smiled and dropped her arms as she took a step closer to him. “Blue.”
Spike bit his bottom lip and waved his arm, turning the black to a very light powder blue. “Like this?”
He waved his arm again and made it a midnight blue, almost as dark as the black that had been there before. “This?”
“Noooo … lighter.”
“You’re bloody hard to please,” he contended.
“And you’re being pigheaded. You know what color blue I want.”
“What color is that, pet?”
“Well…” Buffy began, narrowing her gaze and studying his eyes intently. “I’d say it’s a combination of cerulean and cobalt blue, with a little touch of cornflower blue in the center and deep water blue on the edges with maybe a little…”
Spike held up his hands, stopping her. “What’d you do, put a bloody color wheel up t’ my eyes when I was sleeping, Slayer?”
Buffy laughed and slapped his chest playfully. “No, silly! I took a picture to the paint store to get them to match it. But I had to choose one color, they couldn’t make one that would streak and blend like that.”
Spike waved his hand and they were surrounded by swirls of different shades of blue, with light cornflower blending into cerulean and cobalt and those blending into a dark midnight blue on the edges. “Guess that makes me more handy than the berks at ‘ome Depot.”
Buffy turned around in a slow circle, her grin widening as she went all the way around. She was glowing by the time she got back to where she started, facing her husband. “Handy and randy – that’s you in a nutshell,” she teased him. “So, now that we’re swimming in an ocean of your eyes, what should do we do next?”
“I thought perhaps you’d dance with me, Elizabeth,” Spike replied, his voice slipping easily back to the more formal accent of his youth.
He snapped his fingers and suddenly classical music began playing from somewhere unknown, stars sparkled brightly in the swirling blue ocean that surrounded them, giving the illusion of being immersed in the van Gogh painting ‘The Starry Night’. A white marble dance floor, surrounded by large vases of fragrant, long-stemmed white roses mixed with gardenias appeared around them. Interspersed between the vases of flowers were tall candelabras, each with twelve tall, white tapered candles burning in them. The whole room glowed softly in the candle and star light and the perfume from the flowers wafted over them on a soft spring breeze. To top it all off, Buffy and Spike were both dressed to the nines, ready for a glamorous formal ball.
Spike gave her a little bow and held his hand out for her to take it. Buffy just looked at him for several long moments. The military’s definition of ‘shock and awe’ paled in comparison to Spike’s. In an instant, Buffy was most definitely shocked and awed. Spike was dressed in a tux. He had a pristine white jacket over a midnight black vest, a high collared white shirt, a crisp black bowtie and black trousers. He might’ve just stepped off the pages of GQ or returned from party with royalty in Monaco or a 007 movie set. Spike cocked a brow at Buffy and waited as she took him in, her eyes raking down his body slowly. Even his shoes were spit-polished and the shiny patent leather gleamed in the starlight.
Buffy lifted her eyes back to his then looked down at her own ensemble. She had on a rich, royal blue, strapless, floor length dress with sparkling diamonds on the bodice. The bright jewels ran down in a jagged, diagonal line between her breasts and ended in a large starburst which stretched from the flat of her stomach around her left side. The bodice was shimmering silk and hugged her body tightly, but the skirt was made of light, wispy layers of chiffon that fell in delicate ruffled tiers to the floor. The diaphanous layers of the dress curled around her legs and swirled like the wind when she moved – it made her feel like a princess or Cinderella dressed for the ball. Spike wasn’t your typical Fairy Godmother, that much was certain, but this wasn’t bad. The front of the skirt had a thigh-high slit that revealed her golden legs to her partner, and don’t think he didn’t notice. On her feet were strappy heels covered in more diamonds … hey, it’s a dream, they might as well be diamonds, right? Who dreams of rhinestones?
Spike bit his bottom lip as he watched her expression morph from surprise to amazement and waited for her to take his hand. He’d wanted to take her dancing for real for her birthday – somewhere fancy and special – maybe to LA or even New York, but she’d declined – vehemently. “No more birthday’s”, she’d reminded him sternly. Her tone and the set of her jaw told him that arguing would be fruitless. Just because she refused to acknowledge the day, didn’t mean it wouldn’t come; it didn’t mean it wasn’t her birthday and it didn’t stop bad things from happening on that day. But … that’s what she wanted, so, of course, Spike grudgingly agreed. That did not, however, mean he couldn’t take her dancing in their dreams.
Finally, Buffy looked back up at him with wide eyes full of wonder and excitement. “My God, Spike! This is … beautiful!” she exclaimed gleefully, waving her arms out to encompass her dress and totally ignoring his extended hand. “And you’re totally …” Buffy paused a moment, looking for just the right word, “… debonair.”
“You are ravishing,” Spike whispered breathlessly as he let his eyes wander down her body then back up again to her eyes. He leaned forward so his mouth was close enough to her ear that she could feel his cool breath on her skin and he trailed a finger lightly down her arm from her bare shoulder to her elbow. “And that’s just what I intend to do to you … later.”
A flush of heat tingled over Buffy’s chest, up her neck and tinged her cheeks with a rosy blush. She reached out to put a hand behind his neck and hold him there, to pull his lips to hers, but he moved back faster than she expected.
Spike smiled at her thwarted attempt to catch him and extended his hand towards her again. “May I have this dance, milady?”
Buffy gave him a devilish look – a mixture of frustration over him moving away
and excitement to see what he was going to do next. She finally decided to just
go with the adventure; there would be time for ravishing later. She gave him a
small curtsy and took his hand. “It would be my honor, kind sir,” she replied,
affecting her best overly dignified, upper-crust Oxford accent.
Spike suppressed a small smile at her attempt to sound like someone other than who she was as he settled his hands lightly on her body and began to move around the large dance floor in a slow waltz. Buffy followed his movements with ease, her skirt flowing and twirling around her legs with each whirling step as the Blue Danube played from an unseen orchestra.
Buffy couldn’t wipe the goofy smile from her face as they glided over the glimmering marble of the dance floor. The little flecks of mica in it reflected the blue from above and gave it an otherworldly feel … like they were dancing across the face of the moon. The whole ballroom … if you could call it a ‘room’, sparkled with the twinkling light from the stars that were not only above them, but surrounding them, as well. The flickering candles around the edges of the floor cast the whole area in a warm, golden light and the air was full of the sweet scent of gardenias and roses, the music was lilting, and the company was magical.
“Are you happy, luv?” Spike asked as they moved across the floor in perfect step to the ‘one, two, three’ time of the music.
“No, I’m horribly unhappy,” Buffy replied, forcing her lips into a pouty frown.
Spike stopped dancing abruptly, making Buffy stumble and nearly fall. She held onto him tighter to catch her balance. “What’d you do that for?”
“You don’t like the dance? We could change it,” he offered, snapping his fingers. Suddenly the music changed to Bobby Day singing ‘Rockin’ Robin’ and their fancy clothes were replaced with something from a James Dean movie; white t-shirt and black jeans, black boots, and slicked-back hair for Spike and a poodle skirt, saddle shoes, and a bouffant ‘do for Buffy.
“No…” Buffy moaned. Before she could say more, Spike snapped his fingers again and Chubby Checker singing ‘The Twist’ blared from the invisible speakers and their clothes changed again. Buffy into a white mini-skirt, a blue sweater top that left her midriff bare, and white go-go boots and Spike into a peasant shirt and bellbottom jeans.
“Spike! Stop! I was only kidding!” Buffy lamented, grabbing his hands before he could snap is fingers again and Saturday Night Fever started playing.
“Oh. You are … you were?”
“Yes, silly! What’s not to be happy about? I’m in a beautiful lunar ballroom surrounded by more roses than probably actually exist on earth and I was waltzing with the most handsome man in the room,” Buffy teased him, reaching up to lay a hand gently on the side of his face. “Spike – if I’m with you, I’m happy … Well, assuming we aren’t being tortured or, you know … held prisoner or getting beat up or anything like that.
“I love you…” she continued, getting lost in the depths of his blue eyes, “… and this place is … it’s beautiful. Thank you for it.”
Spike smiled and leaned down to touch his lips to hers gently. “I love you, Buffy. Just want you happy, luv.”
“Then give me my diamond encrusted dress and shoes back,” she murmured against his lips.
Spike laughed and snapped his fingers again and everything went back to what they’d originally had on and the music morphed back to a slow waltz.
“Dance with me, Spike. I want to dance with you forever.”
As they began to glide around the floor again, they were covered in a soft rain of dusty pink rose petals which drifted down to the ground like fragrant leaves in the fall. It was magical.
After dancing in the rain of rose petals for a long while, the music faded into the background, the rain ended, and the couple slowed then finally stilled in the center of the floor. Spike pulled Buffy closer, pressing her body against his tightly and slowly lowered his lips to hers. It was so gentle, his lips so fluid and soft that Buffy thought perhaps it was a ghost kissing her, but his strong arms wrapped around her waist told her otherwise. Her skin began to prickle and tingles began spreading down her body as he poured his love into her. A low sensual moan escaped her throat as she leaned into him, drinking him in.
Spike began nibbling on her bottom lip with his teeth and teasing her with his magical tongue, then he captured her lips again with his. There was nothing ghostly about them this time – they were demanding and full of desire and the tingling in her body brought a flush of goose bumps to her skin. His tongue delved between her lips and tangled with hers and they danced anew – tasting and teasing and twirling around the other in the warm, moist cavern of her mouth.
Buffy’s arms wrapped more tightly around his neck, holding him to her lest he try to escape again like he’d done earlier – but she need not have worried about that. When the desperate kiss broke, Buffy drew in deep gasping breaths, but didn’t move her lips far from his. She breathed him in, panting against his lips as she leaned against him, not quite trusting her knees to hold. Spike smelled of sandalwood and a hint of vanilla from the aphrodisiac soap that Anya had gotten him hooked on – ‘Stud Bubbles’. Buffy had come to love the aroma of it over the last year, despite knowing that neither one of them really needed any ‘aphrodisiacing’. Beyond the fresh scent of the soap on his skin, the soothing balm of well-worn leather and the metallic tang of blood tickled her senses and she sighed as her breathing returned to nearly normal. This was Spike. Sometimes his scent was laced with whiskey or Kool-aid or puréed peas or even spit-up, hardly ever with tobacco anymore, but blood and leather were the constants that never went away. It gave her a safe, warm feeling all over just to breathe him in and, at moments like this, those scents also made her tingling nerve-endings jump with electricity.
Spike held Buffy against him, his arms encircling her as she gasped for breath. He breathed in ‘eau de Buffy’, a scent he could never get enough of. Above all was the perfume she’d dabbed behind her ears, Chanel No5, but there was so much more beneath that. Her hair smelled of sweet, tropical mangos tonight – she never could keep the same shampoo for long and he never knew what new scent would greet him, but they were always sweet and fruity. Her mouth smelled and tasted minty fresh from her toothpaste, but he could still get a hint of chocolate on her breath … she must’ve snuck a treat before bed. Below the perfume, the scent of her vanilla and honey body soap lingered on her skin. There was a hint of baby powder tossed in – probably from checking on MacKenzie after her shower, and that gave Spike a warm feeling in his gut. But the scent that he loved the most was the one that came from within her – the slight sheen of salty perspiration on her skin from dancing and the aroma of her desire which wafted up to him when she moved just so. He closed his eyes and concentrated on that above all – that was Buffy.
Someone coughed and cleared their throat from behind Spike making Buffy jump and pull back from the embrace. She was glad to find her knees had recovered from the kiss and didn’t waver too badly when she let go of him.
There was a waiter that looked suspiciously like Xander just behind Spike. He was dressed in tux and tails, like a headwaiter from some old black and white movie, his dark hair shiny and slicked back neatly. He was holding a tray with two glasses of champagne and a variety of hors d'oeuvres and petit fours. Buffy gave Spike a sideways glance as Xander placed the tray down onto a table that had suddenly appeared next to a white, overstuffed divan – which was also new.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Weckerly?” dream Xander asked, backing up and standing at rigid attention.
“No, that will be all, Jeeves,” Spike replied in a serious tone.
“Very good, sir.” Xander gave Spike a perfunctory bow, turned on his heel like a well trained solider, and marched away.
“Jeeves?” Buffy questioned, cocking a brow at Spike.
Spike shrugged. “Gotta put the boy in his place from time t’ time.”
Buffy laughed and rolled her eyes. “So, what’s to eat?” she asked eyeing the tray.
“Whatever your heart desires, luv,” Spike assured her as he motioned for her to sit down.
Spike watched as she sat on the couch and crossed her legs, they spilled out of the long slit in the dress in a most appetizing way. Spike’s cock jumped in his trousers as he let his eyes roam up her body. She was leaning forward slightly, studying the treats on the tray and he could see down the dark chasm between her breasts. Her hair spilled over her bare shoulders in waves of golden silk and he imagined it tickling his body as she kissed a line of fire down his torso. His cock stood at full attention in his pants. He tried to ignore it as he sat down beside her – it wasn’t time for that yet.
Buffy picked up the two glasses of champagne, handed one to Spike and lifted hers towards him.
“To you,” Spike toasted, tilting his glass to clink against hers.
Buffy moved her glass back a fraction and shook her head. “To us,” she corrected, giving him a loving smile.
“To us, then,” Spike agreed, touching his glass to hers before they both took a deep swallow of the sweet, cool beverage. Despite drinking heartily, the level of the liquid in the glasses didn’t go down. Cool – bottomless bubbly.
Buffy leaned into him and snuggled under his arm. They sat in a comfortable silence for a bit before Spike offered, “Penny.”
Buffy snorted a soft laugh and looked up at him. “You’d probably come out on the short end of that deal,” she teased.
“My bloody penny, try me,” Spike insisted.
Buffy held out her hand, palm up and a British pence appeared in it from nowhere. She laughed and bit her bottom lip as she dropped it down the top of her dress. Spike watched it disappear down the slot and licked his lips, envying the little copper disk its cozy, warm hiding place.
Buffy leaned back into him, resting her head on his chest and one hand on the silky fabric that covered the hard muscles of his thigh. Spike tried to ignore the heat rising from that spot up his body. Not time yet.
“I was just thinking that … well … we done good,” she began. “Bess is finding herself, discovering her own identity, working on her GED and letting herself dream and love and believe in the future. Annie’s just the most amazing girl. If I didn’t remember the agony of popping her out, I wouldn’t ever have believed she was our daughter. Do you think the monks … did something … added something to her? I mean, other than the Key thing?”
Spike shook his head. “No, pet – she’s the best of us, you and me. The absolute cream from the top o’ the cask, that’s what the magic tapped into when we made her. Do you remember that night? I’ll never bloody forget it … it was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt.”
Buffy nodded. “I remember,” she whispered.
“Lemon Drop and Junior now … those two are…” Spike paused a second, thinking.
“They’re you,” Buffy filled in. “They’re all you. Billy’s got William’s brains and heart; Dani’s got Spike’s fire and spirit. They’re the best of you.”
“Lemon Drop looks like you,” Spike pointed out.
Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, well … the Powers tossed me a crumb for almost dying – but those two really are you.”
“Odds are, she'll be a Slayer … you know that,” Spike persisted.
Buffy sighed. “I know, but … maybe not. Maybe … it won’t work that way.” Buffy grew quiet a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, then rolled her eyes and sighed. “Of course she’ll be a Slayer. Who am I kidding?”
“Nothing wrong with it, pet. I happen to love a Slayer … two really, and can say they are the strongest, bravest, most passionate people I’ve ever known … if a bit on the stubborn side.”
Buffy laughed and slapped lightly at Spike’s chest. He allowed himself to breathe when her hand settled there instead of back on his thigh. His trousers were getting rather uncomfortable and her hand on his thigh hadn’t been helping any.
“Ok, well … maybe Dani is part Slayer and part Spike; she got the brawn – but Billy is all William, he got the brains,” she acquiesced.
“Don’t sell William short,” Spike warned. “He’ll surprise you.”
Buffy smiled and nodded. “You don’t have to tell me – I know how strong William is.
“So,” she continued, “I wonder if that means MacKenzie will be all Buffy … or all Avengelyne or, God forbid, a combination of the two.”
“A wild angel with a fiery temper, a sharp wit, a strong will, and a defiant streak a mile wide?” he wondered, cocking a brow as he gazed down at her.
Buffy nodded against his chest. “Let’s pray to God she’s not a Slayer too! She won’t just set the gym on fire, she’ll blow up the whole school! And probably talk Bess and Dani into helping her.”
A laugh rumbled from Spike’s chest – it felt like a big cat purring beneath Buffy’s cheek. “We’ll keep all incendiary devices away from the girl until we’re sure.”
Buffy laughed. “Good plan. We should probably nail her window shut, too – just in case.”
Buffy sat up and turned to face her husband, her green eyes shone with pride. “We done good,” she repeated. “They’re good kids. We just need to … keep doing good. We can’t let our guard down. There are too many things that go bump in the night – too many prophecies and …”
“We’ll keep ‘em safe, luv. No worries. With a Slayer and a vampire with a soul for parents, what could possibly go wrong?”
Buffy laughed and shook her head. “I can’t think of a single thing,” she admitted, keeping the tone of sarcasm to a minimum. “Worrying won’t help anyway,” she added with a sigh. “But let’s keep an eye out for things like rivers running red, a sudden overabundance of locusts and toads, or four guys on horseback riding through town.”
“Sounds like a solid plan, luv.”
Buffy leaned forward, sat her drink down and picked up one of the hors d'oeuvres from the tray that Jeeves-Xander had brought. “Mmmm…” she moaned as she bit into a fluffy, cheesy treat.
“What do you call these?” she asked in a muffled voice, holding a hand over her mouth. There are proper and improper ways to talk with your mouth full and Buffy was nothing if not proper in this regard.
“Gougères,” Spike answered, plucking one off the tray for himself. “Brilliant, yeah?”
“Oh man! I never knew gargoyles were so tasty!” Buffy agreed as she finished the first and picked up another. “I thought they just sat up on the sides of churches to keep demons out.”
Spike laughed. “Not gargoyles, pet … and they’re no bloody good at keepin’ demons out – that’s an old wife’s tale. These are gougères. It’s basically a French cheese puff.”
Buffy scowled at him as she picked up another one. “Why didn’t you just say ‘cheese puff’ then?”
Spike shrugged. “Just bloody dense, I reckon.”
“You need to make these at home. I bet you could put all kinds of stuff in here, like … chocolate even!” she enthused with wide eyes and an even wider smile.
Spike laughed. “I think that would be called an éclair, luv.”
“Oh! I know that one! That’s French for ‘yummy’!” Buffy bragged with a confident nod.
Spike rolled his eyes and picked up a small éclair that had suddenly appeared on the tray and held it up to her lips. “Have some ‘yummy’ then, milady.”
Buffy’s eyes went wide and she opened her mouth as Spike slid the small pastry between her lips. She bit down on it, cutting it in half, and crème filling gushed out the sides and covered her lips and his fingers. Buffy closed her eyes as she savored the sweet treat, rolling it around in her mouth and moaning in pleasure. Spike was certain that one day that moaning while she ate chocolate was gonna get her arrested for lewd and lascivious, but he loved hearing it. The only problem was she had taught that habit to Bess and, even worse, to Annie! Do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to listen to your eleven year old daughter moan in pleasure at the kitchen table? Bloody frightening, it is!
Buffy opened her eyes and parted her chocolate covered lips again, the first bite of the pastry gone. Spike slid the remaining bite into her mouth, but before he could pull his fingers out, she grabbed his wrist and held his hand still. Buffy licked the sweet filling from his digits. Her tongue moving slowly over his chocolate-covered skin, twirling around one slender finger, then the other, in a sensuous motion that wasn’t helping the strain on his trousers any at all. When she started moving her lips up and down the length of his fingers, Spike had to let out a moan of his own. Note to self: include chocolate éclairs in every dream from now on.
Buffy laid her hand back down on Spike’s upper thigh and his hips jerked up slightly against her touch. He pulled his digits from her silken mouth and dropped his lips down against hers again, tasting the sweet icing and filling that still covered her mouth. He swirled his tongue over her lips, collecting the sweet filling that lingered there, and then quickly pressed it into her mouth. He touched his chocolaty tongue to hers, swirling it ‘round and ‘round in a slow, sensuous chocolate ballet. Buffy moaned as she licked the treat from his tongue and slid her hand up higher until she felt the hardness beneath the thin fabric of his dress slacks.
Jolts of electricity jumped from her hand to his cock and then out through his whole body. His cock twitched as his hips pressed up into the warmth of her hand. Bloody hell. He’d had more in mind here, more treats, more dances, more flowers, more champagne … but … damn she felt so fucking good. Everything she was doing felt like heaven. Her tongue wrapped around his, licking it clean, just as she’d done his fingers, her palm pressed against his hardness, making his erection throb in need of her. She uncrossed her legs and the aroma of her desire filled his senses with burning passion, then her other hand was at the nape of his neck, her fingers twirling in the short hair there and tickling heat down his body to meet the heat that was rising from below. This time it was his turn to pull away from the kiss, gasping for breath – not because he needed it, but because he was afraid if he didn’t he’d overheat and simply combust from within.
“Wake me up with your lips,” Buffy whispered to him, her green eyes smoldering, filled to overflowing with her own need.
“Your wish …” Spike began and he was suddenly gone.
Buffy looked on the tray for another éclair but frowned when there wasn’t another one there. “Abracadabra!” she exclaimed, waving her hand over the tray. Suddenly there was a pyramid of the pastries atop the tray, spilling over onto the tabletop and rolling onto the floor. She giggled in glee and picked one from the top of the pile and plopped it into her mouth greedily.
“Mmmmmm…” she purred, closing her eyes and savoring the rich chocolate and light pastry dough that filled her mouth with joy.
When her eyes fluttered open a moment later, Spike was above her, his hard, cool body pressed against hers as he whispered gentle kisses over her face. His lips moved slowly down from her forehead to her brow, then they touched each of her eyelids in turn, the tip of her nose, her rosy cheeks, her chin, and finally her full lips. Buffy moaned again and wrapped her arms around his neck. She thought she could still smell the chocolate on his breath as he dropped chaste little kisses over her lips and around her mouth. Was that even possible? How could he smell like chocolate when it had been a dream? Note to self: Pick up a large box of éclairs from the bakery later.
“I love you,” Buffy murmured against his lips.
Spike pulled back slightly and smiled down on her. Buffy opened her eyes to look into his, her green meeting his blue across the short distance. “I love you, too, Buffy,” he whispered to her, their eyes locked as if drawn to the other with some ancient magical force.
In times like this, Buffy felt like she could see Spike’s soul and hoped that he could see hers. Gazing into the windows of his soul, she saw above all, love, but there was more. Bravery, pride, dedication, fierce loyalty and devotion, trust, passion, and admiration all shone there. She could see his past reflected there, as well. There was a weight of guilt, remorse, and regret for things he’d done, and a hint of despair over the evil things he’d seen and been a party to. Was that what made his eyes so many shades of blue all at once? So many different emotions swirling around his soul? Was it because he’d lived so long, seen so much, experienced so much, both good and bad over his life? She hated seeing the sadness that lurked around the edges and hoped that one day when she gazed upon his soul, those regrets would be driven away and replaced with only the pride and joy of this life with her and their children.
She pulled her hands from around his neck and touched his face with her fingertips, running them gently down from his forehead, over his brows – carefully tracing the scar over his left eye. Her eyes traveled over his face with her hands, down his razor sharp cheekbones to his strong jaw and square chin, then back up to his soft lips.
Spike didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare flinch one muscle lest the spell between them at that moment be broken as she mapped the contours of his features with her delicate digits. He watched her eyes move over his face, following the path of her fingertips and he suppressed a shudder that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within. Her birthday was tomorrow. She’d graced this earth for thirty years. So young. Including human years, he’d lived a century and a half. Thirty years was like a blink of an eye, and yet, she’d seen so much, fought so many battles, cried so many tears in that short time. He wished he could take all the hurt, all the battles, all the sadness away from her heart, out of her soul and just leave happiness and joy. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t change her past any more than she could change his … and if their pasts changed, then what? Wasn’t that what made them them? If he hadn’t gone through what he had, would he be gazing down on this angel right now? If she hadn’t endured the battles she had, would she be looking at him right now with those green eyes full of love?
He realized that the shudder that had rippled inside him came from his soul. Those green eyes looking up at him were touching his soul and making it reach out for hers. He remembered the time in the butterfly soul paradise when their souls had actually touched, free of their mortal trappings – it had been indescribable, beyond his wildest imaginings. He wondered if that was what heaven would feel like, when two mated souls find each other there. Is that how it would be, not just for a few rapturous moments, but for all eternity? A dismal pang of sadness tugged at his soul – that, he was certain, was a question he would never know the answer to. It saddened him that his past sins would keep him from his angel when the time came to leave this earth. It hurt him to know that at that moment he would break his promise to her – she would be left alone. He’d never be allowed to follow her into heaven.
Then you just need to bloody well make sure you both stay here for eternity where you can be together, he admonished himself silently. Afraid she’d see the regret in his eyes and misunderstand, he broke the spell she held him under by turning his face and dropping a kiss on the palm of her small, warm hand.
Buffy cupped her palm against his lips and took a deep breath. She hadn’t realized that she’d stopped breathing. She’d been so mesmerized by his eyes and her fingers’ journey over the majestic landscape of Spike’s face to notice. She tangled her free hand in his curls and smiled at him when he looked back down at her. “I want to wake up this way forever … just seeing your face right there above mine. Do you think we could do that?”
Spike bit his bottom lip lightly, then let a saucy grin surface. “That and so much more, pet,” he vowed.
Spike lowered his lips to her jawbone, then trailed his wet tongue down her neck and suckled at his scar which stood out white and proud against her golden skin. He could feel her pulse racing below his lips, could almost taste the sweet passion of her blood in that moment. Now he did physically shudder and forced his mouth up to the magical spot behind her ear. Her nipples hardened against his chest and her whole body quivered beneath his as he swirled his tongue lightly around and around over her salty skin.
A long, low moan escaped Buffy’s throat and she turned her head to the side in silent invitation for him to continue what he was doing. She ran her hands up his strong arms, taking in the bulges and dips of his muscles beneath her fingertips. Like a blind person reading Braille, she could see his body behind her closed lids as she explored it with her hands. Up to his shoulders … shoulders that would carry the weight of the world for her if she simply asked him to. Then down his back … his sharp shoulder blades protruded from the muscle like fledgling angel wings.
Buffy smiled at the thought – Big Bad was earning his wings, day by day, month by month, year by year. One day they’d flutter open widely and large white feathery wings would carry him to heaven with her. One day the PTB would have no choice but to acknowledge his rightful place beside her in heaven … one day. Hopefully a long time from now. The thought of being with Spike in heaven gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside and she sighed dreamily.
Her fingers moved to his spine. Bump, bump, bump, bump she ran her hands down the middle of his back. It was like running over those reflectors they put in the road to tell you when you were crossing the middle line. Bump, bump, bump … she ran her hands back up.
old man, he played nine,
He played knick-knack on my spine;
With a knick-knack paddywhack,
Give the dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.♫
Buffy started to laugh. It was a low giggle at first which she tried to disguise with another moan, but the absurdity of her mind going to a children’s song in the middle of this got the best of her and her body began to shake and shudder as she tried to suppress it. Her eyes watered with the effort and she felt like she was going to explode, but not in the good way this sort of thing normally ended.
Spike stopped what he was doing and pulled back to look at her quizzically. When had she gotten ticklish there?
When he looked at her, she couldn’t hold it in any more and just burst out in laughter. Spike frowned and ran a hand through his hair then over his face.
“What the bloody hell?” he asked finally, not finding anything in his hair or on his face to cause her hilarity. Did he have something in his teeth?
Buffy laughed harder and turned her face away from him, waving her hands and shaking her head. “It’s not you … I’m sorry … I …” she stuttered out between fits of laughter.
“You’ve lost your bloody mind,” he accused, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Ya know, laughing at a naked guy while he’s trying to seduce you doesn’t really instill confidence, Slayer. What’s so bloody funny?”
Buffy continued to shake her head. “Not you… it’s not … you,” she tried to assure him.
Spike pushed up off her, drew his knees up underneath him and sat back on his heels between her legs as he watched her. He tried to be mad that she’d ruined his finely laid romantic plans, but as she laughed, he found himself laughing with her, even though he had no idea what she was laughing at.
“Tell me what’s so bloody funny!” he demanded, but the laughter in his voice made it less than intimidating.
“Tell me or I’ll give you something to laugh about!” he threatened. When she just kept shaking her head, he reached down and began to tickle her sides with his hands. Buffy jerked and shrieked and more wails of laughter filled their room as he tickled her. She tried to catch his hands with hers, but failed miserably as her body shook with uncontrollable giggles. She honestly couldn’t remember what had started her to laughing at that moment, but she was unable to stop – the giggling seemed to have taken on a life of its own and Spike’s fingers grabbing at her sides playfully didn’t help matters any.
In desperation, unable to breathe past the shrieks and laughter, she rose up and knocked him down on the bed beside her. Buffy scrambled atop him, his own deep laughter joining hers in the haven of their room, and began tickling him as he’d done her. Spike screeched and kicked and wriggled under her, grabbing at her hands and bucking his hips to try and thwart her.
Finally, out of self-preservation, they called a truce on the tickle-torture war. The laughter faded to giggles and the giggles to smiles as they lay together in the bed, each holding tightly to the other’s hands lest the other break the tenuous treaty. Finally daring to release his hold on her, Spike rose up slightly and rested his head in his hand as he lay on his side facing her. He traced the curve of her lips with a finger and had to smile, despite the ruination of his great romantic evening of dancing and dining and seduction. Buffy’s face was flushed a rosy pink hue, her lips curled at the edges, still touched by her fit of mirth. Her green eyes were damp and her cheeks streaked with happy tears, her hair was spread in an artless sprawl around her head and across her pillow – she’d never looked more beautiful.
“Just what was it that got you tickled so bloody pink, Slayer?” he asked at last, dropping his hand from the curve of her lips down to rest on her shoulder.
Buffy shook her head and her smile widened. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Spike cocked a brow. “Try me.”
“I think … maybe ... I … uhhh … maybe I’ve been spending too much time with the kids. Or … maybe I’m regressing!” she suggested brightly, turning on her side to face him and mimicking his pose. “That must be it! It’s almost … a certain day … and instead of getting older, I’m regressing. I think I’m twelve,” she announced with a satisfied air.
“Twelve, is it?” Spike repeated, reaching out to drag the back of his fingers down her bare arm. “I reckon that makes me a cradle robber, then.”
Spike fingers running down her arm felt like liquid magic pouring over her flesh, smooth and subtle, more gentle than rain and it spoke directly to that part of her that was definitely not twelve. “Rob away…” Buffy murmured as she pressed a hand against his upper shoulder and rolled him onto his back.
Spike went over easily, offering no resistance to her at all. When Buffy pulled herself atop him and straddled his hips with hers, he settled his hands on her thighs and looked up at her. Her hair wasn’t any less tangled, it was a mess of waves with bits stuck out at odd angles, but when she leaned forward and it fell across him, it was just as he’d imagined it earlier. Silken, delicate fingers of spun gold wove magical patterns over his skin and he gasped. Her lips, soft and giving, found his and they kissed gently, slowly building the passion and desire back.
Buffy broke the kiss with a soft moan and began moving down his body with her lips. She kissed his chin and his Adam’s apple. It bobbed under her lips when he swallowed and she smiled. She loved that cute little protrusion almost as much as she loved some of his other ‘protrusions’. It’s where the deep timbre of his voice emanated. It’s the source of the rich, honeyed words that he pours over her when they're making love or in the moments afterwards and the moments before … or when they're walking down the street for that matter.
Buffy kept moving, licking the hollow at the base of his throat, and kissing the two button-like bones on either side of it, then down to his chest. Her hair and fingertips trailed across his skin, following her lips and she could feel Spike’s other ‘protrusion’ growing hard under her butt. She pressed her hips down against his erection for a moment before having to move down his legs so she could give the hills and valleys that adorned his stomach the same sweet treatment with her lips and tongue.
Spike moaned when she moved off his cock and sucked his stomach in when the tip of her tongue began tracing the outline of the muscles there. He reached down and tangled his fingers in her golden mane, lifting it away from her face so he could see her tongue leaving damp, cool lines across his abs. Then she moved lower and the breath he’d been holding came out in a whoosh when she touched the tip of his cock with her hot, heavenly tongue.
He continued to hold her hair to one side so he could watch her. Buffy’s wet, pink tongue darted in and out like a serpent’s, dabbing at the pearl of pre-cum that beckoned her to his mushroom head. A low moan trickled from his throat as she trailed her tongue around the lower edge of the mushroom, paying special attention to the taut band on the underside. His cock jumped in time to her flickering tongue and when she dug her fingers into the muscles of his thighs, his hips jerked up towards her.
“Bloody hell,” Spike moaned, still looking down his body and watching her work her magic. “So fucking sexy, you are, pet. God, that feels …”
His voice broke off and his eyes fluttered closed when she dropped her mouth down over his length and sucked hard, still flicking her tongue back and forth over the soft, sensitive skin that sheathed his steel hardness.
“Bloody hell…” he moaned again, all other words momentarily lost on him. He dropped her hair from his hand and gathered the sheets beneath him into his fists, trying anchor himself in place as she moved slowly up and down his length. His body flexed and tensed beneath her. Her tongue was drawing the most amazing pattern on the underside of his cock while her lips moved up and down in a slow, sensuous rhythm. Her fingers kneaded the muscles of his thighs, alternating between soft caresses and digging her nails into his flesh painfully.
A litany of curses and moans and exclamations rolled off his tongue as his hips thrust up to meet her when she came down on him, but Buffy never increased her pace or sucked down harder. She simply kept the slow and steady rhythm going as she drew teasing, wet curlicues with the tip of her tongue up and down his length.
“Christ, woman!” Spike exclaimed at last, releasing the sheets. He grabbed her shoulders forcefully and hauled her up his body, pressing a brutal, hungry kiss against her lips. Buffy didn’t shy away – to the contrary. She returned the kiss with the same ferocity as he was delivering as she maneuvered her body over his, situating her knees on either side of his slim hips. Without breaking the kiss, she reached between them and guided his hardness into her supple heat, lowering herself down on him as slowly as she could manage.
Buffy gasped against his mouth when he entered her, the mushroom head stretching her opening and filling her completely with his desire.
“God, Spike,” she murmured against his lips before pushing back and settling herself atop him, completely engulfing him inside her.
“Buffy … Oh, God, Slayer. So good … what you do to me, woman. Never get enough … never enough of you,” Spike grunted out as he began moving with her.
Buffy moaned and let her eyes flutter closed and her head loll back as she rode him. “So good,” Buffy agreed with is assessment as they kept the slow pace going – it was a struggle to maintain.
He wanted to ravish her, utterly and completely, as he’d promised her … that seemed hours ago now. He watched her atop him. Her golden skin shimmered with tiny droplets of perspiration from the fire that was building within her. Her hair was a tumble of golden tresses, framing her face, falling over her shoulders and down her back, her lips were full and pink and low murmurs of pleasure passed through them. Her breasts swayed and bounced with each rise and fall of his hips beneath her, beckoning to him. He reached up and circled her nipples with the tips of his fingers and a deeper moan rolled from her parted lips.
Buffy dropped her head and looked down at him, settling her hands on his chest. “Feels so good, Spike. I love your fingers,” she whispered to him as she took one of his hands and lifted it to her mouth. She kissed each fingertip in turn, then planted a soft kiss in the center of his palm. “It’s like you’ve got magic inside them and when you touch me … it leaks out all over my skin,” she purred against his hand before placing it back at her breast.
Spike smiled softly up at her. “You fill me with the magic,” he revealed quietly as he began to move those magical fingers over her nipples again. He teased her breasts and dusty pink areolas while their bodies moved against each other, his cock sliding in and out of her tight, wet channel. He watched chill bumps bloom under his fingertips then swirl out over her flesh like an expanding cyclone engulfing her. As the hard, little bumps of pleasure raced across her body, prickling her damp skin, he felt the tremor of a small orgasm pulse around his length, squeezing and contracting around his hardness and he moaned with the delight of it.
Buffy gasped as the wave of bliss washed over her undulating body and leaned more heavily against Spike’s abs for support. It was just a small taste of the pleasure, of the magic, he could deliver to her, and it made her hunger for more.
She began moving faster against him, her hips rising and falling more deliberately, her ass banging down against his thighs as she impaled herself on his length. Spike groaned with pleasure and met her intensity, thrusting up with more force on every stroke, driving himself into her deeper, harder.
Without warning, Spike pushed up to a sitting position, wrapped his arms around her, and with a roar and a growl, flipped them over on the bed. Buffy squealed in surprise, but quickly adjusted, wrapping her legs around his slim hips, digging her fingers into the globes of his ass and arching up into him.
Spike freed his arms from beneath her and rose up to his hands but spent no more than a few seconds repositioning his body before his need and lust for her took the reins. He slammed down into her, grinding his pubic bone against her clit on every other stroke. He could feel her nails cutting into his ass, and the sensation drove him mad, like spurs digging into the sides of a wild stallion. Then her words were spilling up at him, frantic and breathless and his demon rose to meet her challenge.
Buffy screamed out as his pace and force increased yet again and another more powerful wave of euphoria washed through her. “Yes!” she screamed at him. “More! God, yes! Spike, harder! Fuck me! Fuck me, baby! Yesss! Give it to me! Need you! Yessss!”
Her words were like a drug to the demon and he slammed against her with powerful strokes that might’ve ripped a mere mortal apart, but it was what she desired … what she needed. Spike could feel his control slipping, his own body demanding release, but he held on with the last shred of sanity he had left … she wasn’t there yet … not yet.
He jerked his hips against her in short, fast bursts of power, then changed to long strokes, which were slightly slower, but no less powerful … then back again. Buffy gasped for air and her body tensed beneath him, her words had stopped although her lips were still parted. She drew in a deep, ragged breath … long and deep and he ground down on her clit and lowered his mouth to her breast and bit down on one hard nipple.
The scream began in her gut … maybe lower, and surged up through her body, engulfing her with the intensity and power of a feral beast. Her eyes flashed open and she could see Spike’s golden eyes right above her now, his cock still slamming into her, touching her core with every stroke. His eyes were wild, lustful and she felt a shiver of excitement rustle through her. Those eyes wanted to devour her and she wanted nothing less. Then her back arched, her body pulled tight as a bow, and the scream that had started in her soul burst from her throat like a runaway train.
The thread of control he’d been clinging to unraveled and fell from Spike’s grasp when her scream of passion swept over him. He roared and slammed into her twice more before his cum erupted in a sudden burst of savage lust. His essence filled her channel and spilled out, coating them both with his blessed release. Even as her cervix continued to clutch at his cock and seed with the erratic spasms of her own orgasm, Spike collapsed atop her, spent.
Buffy gasped for air, her chest heaved under him and he could feel her heart racing in her chest. After a few moments she slowly, painfully released her grip on his ass – it had actually stopped hurting until she’d done that. Spike didn’t mind though, it was a pain he would endure every day for the rest of eternity because it was driven from her passion, her lust. There were times, like tonight, when he expected to look down on her and see the dark vampress of her demon beneath him instead of his golden Slayer. He knew she touched that demon within, she may not even realize it, but her insatiable desires and ferocity were more than human. He thanked the stars for that every night.
Buffy fluttered her eyes open as she raked her fingers up and down along each side of his spine. Spike lifted his head and smiled down on her, his demon satiated and back in its cage. “Hey, cutie,” he whispered, his blue eyes shining with love for the woman and the demon within her.
Buffy smiled back at him and brought a hand up to run through his rumpled hair. “Hey, handsome.”
Spike dropped his lips to hers and Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss was liquid smooth, like a soft mist of rain touching her lips and she felt a swell of love well up within her for this man … this demon. One moment he was wild, a beast running free, powerful and savage and the next moment he was a kitten, gentle and tender and loving. Oh, he’d kill her if she said that aloud … not the beast part, of course, but the kitten bit, but it was true. That dichotomy just made her soar; it made her love him all the more. William and Spike, man and demon, wild beast and cuddly kitten. Buffy sighed and sent a silent thank you to the gods or the universe or the Powers That Be or whoever it was that had made such a perfect match for her.
“Gotcha somethin’,” Spike whispered, a gleeful tone to the deep timbre of his voice.
“Again … already?” Buffy tittered, her smile widening.
“You got a dirty mind, Slayer,” Spike accused as he rolled off her. “Just want m’ body, you do. What am I, your sex slave? You’d use the little bugger all up in one night and then what would ya have for tomorrow? Be in a sorry state, you would.”
Buffy missed his weight atop her, his body pressing against hers as soon as he moved, but repressed a sigh. “I’d still have magical fingers and … oooo … that tongue,” she teased as she watched him stand up. In the dim light from the bedside clock she could see five red crescents adorning each cheek of his ass where her nails had dug into his flesh. “And … I wouldn’t call it a ‘little’ bugger … maybe a big bugger,” she corrected him with a smirk.
Spike flicked on the bedside lamp and she blinked against the suddenly too bright light, covering her eyes with one hand. “Hey … no likey,” she moaned, watching him through her fingers to see what he was doing.
He went to the closet and pulled out a box, then came back to the bed and sat down Indian style next to her. “Next best thing to the big bugger … at least for a minute or two,” he said, handing the box to her.
Buffy frowned and sat up facing him. “I thought I said no birthday,” she chastised him, despite her fingers reaching for the box of their own volition. It was a shoe box – of that she was certain. It was physically impossible for her to keep her fingers from touching it, if not actually taking it from his hands. When she didn't take it from him, he sat it down on the bed between them, close enough for her to fondle it.
“Not your birthday,” Spike defended. “Today is Buffy Birthday Eve,” he announced like it was national holiday. “On this day, in the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and eighty one, all the gods and the fairies and angels gathered in anticipation. They went to the mall and shopped all through the day and night because they knew that the next day a supernatural being would be born … a Slayer,” Spike explained in his best ghost story voice. “This was no regular Slayer, though … this was Buffy. Despite the poncy name, she was destined to be the greatest Vampire Slayer the world had ever known. But she was so much more than that! She was born with many other amazing superpowers too. What would those be, you might ask.”
Spike cocked a brow at Buffy and she rolled her eyes. "First of all, my name is not 'poncy' ... I just want that made perfectly clear."
Spike rolled his eyes and repeated with a flourish in his voice, "What would those be, you might ask.”
Buffy shook her head, eyeing the box sitting between them. “What would those be, I might ask. Please do tell!” she replied too eagerly, overacting badly as she played along. Her fingers fidgeted with the bright blue wrapping paper on the package. Definitely a shoe box.
“I’m glad you asked,” Spike continued sounding more like a snake-oil salesman now. “From a very young age, she could smell a shoe sale a mile away. She would swoop in like a cat on a canary. The moment the doors opened, this superhero would scoop up every designer boot, sandal, pump, and stiletto with uncanny speed and precision. The gods knew, if they were to ever stand a chance at those 50% off designer shoes, they better shop early – before this creature was let loose in the mall. And thus began the observation of Buffy Birthday Eve, a tradition that’s been carried forward now for … GASP!” Spike widened his eyes and held his hands up over his mouth as if in utter shock. “Thirty years!?”
“Oh shut up!” Buffy groaned, picking up the box and bonking him playfully on the head with it before pulling it to her lap.
Spike smirked at her. “Happy Buffy Birthday Eve, luv,” he offered sincerely as he tilted his head towards the box. “Let’s see what ya got, yeah?”
Buffy bit her bottom lip and began tearing into the paper. She was happy to see that he hadn’t completely laminated it in Scotch tape. Annie must’ve helped him wrap it.
She gasped when she saw the box … Jimmy Choo. “Oh, Spike … you didn’t!” she exclaimed, opening the box reverently and gazing inside. “My shoes…” she moaned, a mixture of disbelief and absolute joy coloring her words.
Buffy pulled out a pair of black stiletto sandals with four inch heels. The strap around the ankle and toes were studded in diamonds … ok, well, maybe not, but whatever. They were the same style of shoe that she’d sold on eBay to pay the bills just a few months ago, but these were brand new.
Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up from the shoes to her husband and just shook her head. “You shouldn’t have,” she began as a tear slid down her cheek. “But I’m so glad you did,” she admitted, laughing through her tears. “Oh, God, Spike. I love you. Thank you so much. I can’t tell you …” her voice broke and she looked back down at the shoes, shaking her head, still not really believing it.
After Spike won the demon championship fight, she’d thought about replacing the ones she’d sold, but told herself they were too expensive – a luxury she didn’t need. He didn’t go through hell and back, didn’t nearly die just so she could have a pair of thousand dollar shoes. There were so many more important things that money could be used for, like five … count ‘em, five college educations, just for starters.
Spike nodded, reached a hand out and laid his palm against her cheek. He wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb as she leaned into his touch and met his eyes.
“I love you, Buffy. Happy Birthday Eve.”
Colbie Calliat, Magic
You've got magic inside your fingertips
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