|Story Title:||Can't Buy Me Love|
Hard Day's Night
Buffy and Spike put in a few hard day’s nights …
Edmond “Eddie” Giles Rosenberg-Maclay born March 11, 2010
Joshua "JJ" Harris was born on April 21st, 2004
The twins (Danielle Dawn, "Dani" and William Rupert, "Billy") were born on February 12th, 2004.
Annie was born on February 14th, 1999
Spike and Buffy were married in February 1999
Buffy was born January 19th, 1981
William/Spike was turned by Dru in
All the Potentials were endowed with full Slayer power in February 2003.
Buffy and Spike learned of the other dimensions and got the memories from the 'Rome' Universe in May, 2003.
The ‘Wish-World’ lasted from January 19th, 2005 to January, 16th 2010.
Hard Day’s Night, The Beatles
Poem: Daffodils by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
Special thanks also to 'u2fan2005' and 'epd4' for their suggestions, corrections, and help betaing this chapter!!
|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.
(Two days later), Monday, April 19th, 2010, 2:30am:
Spike walked through the dark house easily and made his way upstairs. It had been a long night at Willy’s … spring fever or full moon fever or … some kind of fever seemed to be making everyone crazier than normal lately. Everyone just had to prove that they were the toughest, the meanest, the biggest, baddest bad in the bloody place … and it was Spike’s job to set them straight on that point. That actually was the easy part, the hard part was making sure they paid their bar tab before he tossed them out on their arses with a new understanding that he was the baddest bad.
After a night of fighting with drunk, smelly, obnoxious demons, he was looking forward to a little romance with his lady … then a good day’s sleep to get ready for the next wave of fevered demons and humans he’d face at the bar again later that night. Spike twirled the long-stemmed, dusty pink rose between his fingers as he headed up the stairs … yeah, a little time in his angel’s arms was just what the doctor ordered for his own fever…
Spike headed to the bathroom first and took a quick shower before slipping silently into their room and locking the door behind him. He knew something was wrong immediately, though … Buffy wasn’t there. “Bloody hell…” Spike muttered as he re-secured the towel around his hips and headed into the hallway, the rose still in his hand. It only took a second for his senses to find her …
Spike stood in the open doorway of the twins' room and sighed heavily. Buffy was still in her clothes, fast asleep on Billy’s bed, curled over and around their sleeping son, as if to protect him from an unseen attacker. Billy must’ve had another one of those nightmares … they seemed to have stopped for a while, but now they were coming more and more frequently.
Spike blew out a long breath, looking down at the rose in his hand as he twirled it slowly between his fingers. He may be the biggest, baddest bad in the land, able to defeat any and all challengers … but he was trumped by a frightened child every time. Spike laid the rose on the nightstand that stood between the twins’ beds and closed the door silently as he went back to his bed alone. It was gonna be a long night.
Spike twitched his foot and pulled it back under the covers when he felt something crawl across it. He’d finally gotten to sleep … it hadn’t been easy … he’d mentally recited some Hamlet from memory … “This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.” Then he tried a little Macbeth … “Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale, Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.” But, what had finally worked was reciting ‘The Cat in the Hat’ … in French. Actually, he’d gotten all the way to … “Then we saw him pick up all the things that were down. He picked up the cake, and the rake and the gown … Il a ramassé le gâteau, et le râteau, et la robe, et le lait, et les ficelles…” before his mind finally gave in and let sleep win, but now something was intruding on his dreams of cats and hats and talking fish and flying kites in the house…
“Twirtled by a fish…” Spike muttered as he jerked his other foot away from whatever it was that was tickling it … he couldn’t quite get awake enough to even wonder what it was.
Buffy suppressed a giggle as she trailed the rose lightly across his toes where they stuck out from under the sheet and watched him pull his other foot away as he’d done the first. She lifted the sheet gently and trailed the soft petals of the rose down from the back of his knee to his ankle and Spike’s whole body jerked as he turned over and pulled away from the unwelcome interloper. She dropped the sheet and stepped back when he moved, but when he settled back under the covers and stilled, she began again, this time running the rose down from his shoulder along a bare arm that was sticking out, getting down to his elbow before he turned again and pulled the sheet over his head, covering his whole body, head to toe.
Buffy scrunched up her face and frowned in frustration … he wasn’t supposed to completely cover up! How was she supposed to tickle and tease him now? Buffy tugged on the top of the sheet, but he was holding it tight, it wouldn’t budge. Then she tried the bottom, but he had it tucked under his feet, it wasn’t budging either – he was completely wrapped up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Buffy sighed and brought the rose to her nose, inhaling its sweet aroma, before setting it down on her pillow next to him and heading out to work off her extra energy in the garden; he probably needed the sleep more than anything else, anyway…
Spike rolled over and reached his arm out for Buffy but found only empty bed beside him. He sighed and uncovered his head and looked at the clock … 3:00pm. Buffy would be waiting for the kids at the bus stop. The rose on her pillow caught his eye and he picked it up and breathed in the sweet fragrance … a fragrance that always made him think of her, of their wedding, of how beautiful she looked walking down the aisle towards him…
Spike sighed and rolled out of bed. Buffy would be back with the kids soon … he’d need to figure out something for dinner, spend a little time with the kids, then it would be time to head to work … again.
(early the next morning), Tuesday, April 20th, 2010, 2:15am:
Spike frowned as he walked down the stairs to the garden later that night after work, another dusty pink, long-stemmed rose in his hand – all the lights were on in the house … why were all the lights on?
“Wake up, Watcher…” Spike said as he shook Giles’ shoulder as he slept on the couch in the great room.
“I wasn’t sleeping … just … resting … my …” Giles yawned widely and sat up, “…eyes.”
“Yeah … bright as a bunny, you are. Surprised you ‘aven’t turned into a pumpkin, out at this hour. Where’s Buffy?” Spike questioned as Giles stood up stiffly from the couch and stretched.
“Lorne called … seems he’s having some problems with patrons being harassed as they left the club, asked her to patrol the area for him and keep the area clear …” Giles explained as he picked up his jacket from the nearby chair.
“Vampires?” Spike questioned.
“No, worse … religious zealots from that commune in the hills south of town … they’re trying to get his patrons to ‘repent’,” Giles clarified.
“Bloody hell…” Spike groaned, rolling his eyes.
Slayer! You ok? Need help? Spike sent through the bond.
Hey, baby … no, I’m fine, but I’m gonna be gone a while. Those nice folks who are trying to save everyone’s souls are having a little vampire trouble out at their compound. They said they’d stay away from the Bronze if I’d take care of their infestation … and Lorne’s gonna pay me extra if they stay away.
You aren’t goin’ out there alone, are ya!? Spike asked, deeply concerned.
What’s the matter, afraid they’ll reform me? Buffy teased.
Buffy… Spike moaned back to her.
Oh, alright … no, I picked Faith up, we’ll be fine… Buffy assured him. Don’t wait up for me…
Ok … be careful, pet, Spike sent back.
It’s my middle name…
Spike sighed heavily and looked back at Giles who had started towards the door. “’ere … maybe you can get lucky … I bloody well can’t,” Spike moaned, handing him the rose.
“Why, Spike … I didn’t know you cared,” Giles teased, taking the rose from his hand and raising it to his nose to inhale the fragrance.
“You need a bloody girlfriend,” Spike advised him as he turned and started trudging up the stairs to his empty bed.
“So I’ve been told …” Giles muttered as he passed through the doors to the garden.
When Buffy finally got in, it was nearly time for the kids to get up for school, so she didn’t even bother getting a shower until after she got them up, dressed, fed, and on the bus.
Spike smiled as he turned over and cuddled against her when his wife collapsed onto their bed a little while later. She’d been up for nearly twenty-four hours straight and she and Faith had taken out a nest of seven vamps near the ‘repenter’s’ homestead … but she’d made $500 in one night from Lorne for her trouble, which she split with Faith. Buffy moaned, turning onto her side, and wriggled her tired body back against his, it felt like absolute heaven to be lying next to him. Spike no sooner got his arm wrapped around her than Buffy’s heart rate and breathing slowed …
“Buffy?” Spike questioned, raising up on one elbow so he could see her face when he got no response – her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and steady.
“Slayer?” he tried again, shaking her shoulder lightly, which made her moan in protest and hug her pillow tightly to her chest.
Spike sighed and flopped back on the bed. “You might as well just forget it, mate… Slayer ain’t playin’,” Spike admonished his hard-on as he turned over and tried to find a way to go back to sleep. Le Chat Au Chapeau. Le soleil ne brilliat pas…
Spike woke from a dream of tall, red and white striped hats chasing him and a smart-alecky, French cat in a bow-tie through the streets of Paris in the rain … he really needed to find another way to get to sleep. He rolled over and reached his arm out for Buffy but found only empty bed beside him. He sighed and uncovered his head and looked at the clock … 3:17pm. “Bloody hell,” he moaned. “Not again…” It had taken forever for him to get back to sleep and now he’d overslept … again!
Spike sighed and rolled out of bed … Buffy would be back with the kids soon … he’d need to figure out something for dinner, spend a little time with the kids, then it would be time to head to work … again – with no time in between for anything else. This was starting to sound like a broken record.
(Early the next morning), Wednesday, April 21st, 2010, 1:00am:
Spike rounded the corner of the garage and watched and listened from a distance as Buffy read to her plants. A tiny flashlight in her hand shone on the page she was reading as she walked back and forth, up and down the rows of mandrake seedlings. Whatever she was doing seemed to be working …they were growing nicely, maybe it was just that easy. Spike looked up at the one neighboring house that could actually see into their backyard from their second floor windows and wondered what those people must think about the nut-jobs living next door to them.
Spike turned his eyes back to his wife as she finished reading the poem she was on and flipped the page of the book. “Oh!” Buffy exclaimed as she held the small flashlight on the new page. “You guys are gonna love this one, it’s about your cousins! ‘Daffodils’ … by William Wordsworth,” she announced to her small, green, and mostly silent, audience.
wander'd lonely as a cloud
“Continuous as the stars that shine
beside them danced, but they
when on my couch I lie
When she finished, Spike applauded and stepped out of the shadow of the garage and into the open yard. Buffy turned quickly to see who it was and a smile replaced her concern as Spike moved into the light that shone into the backyard from the kitchen window. Buffy took an exaggerated bow, before stepping gingerly out of her mandrake and henbane patch, through the small picket gate, and onto the grass.
“And you said readin’ all them books in school was a waste o’ time… what with all those words and whatnot,” Spike teased with a smirk. “You read good.”
“I read well …” Buffy corrected him as she met him halfway and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“How come you’re home so early?” she asked before dropping a soft kiss on his lips.
“Is that a problem, Slayer? Should I leave? Need more alone time with your little green friends?” Spike questioned with a smirk as he wrapped his arms around her lower back and pulled her body against him.
“Uh-uh … no leaving allowed,” Buffy murmured against his lips as she captured his mouth with hers. The book of poems fell from her hands as Buffy tangled her fingers in his hair, loosening his soft locks from their gel prison. Spike ravaged her mouth with his lips and tongue and held her body tightly against his … God, he wanted her in the worst way.
Buffy felt a cauldron of molten steel begin to boil within her core, hotter than the surface of the sun, as Spike set her body ablaze with his. The burning liquid seemed to erupt from her loins and flow down her legs, up her torso, across her shoulders and arms until it consumed her entire being with its incandescence. She thought she would almost certainly combust at any moment if she didn’t have him and soon.
Spike’s cock threatened to pop the buttons on his jeans as it fought against its confines – fought to get to her. It felt like every ounce of blood in his body had settled below his belt as he kissed this inferno of desire that was his wife. Their lips demanding as much as they gave, their tongues sparring for dominance, their bodies melting together as if they were two pieces of steel, heated to white-hot luminescence by their own internal flames.
As if on cue, their hands began tugging and pulling on the other’s clothing … ripping hooks and buttons from their threaded anchors to get to bare skin. Spike’s shirt was ripped open from the collar, the buttons on Buffy’s were popped – flying in all directions before landing in the grass at their feet. Then Spike’s belt was being tugged loose and the snap on Buffy’s jeans was yanked open as the lovers collapsed onto the cool, damp grass in a frenzy of fire and passion as moans and cries of desire escaped their throats.
When Spike’s hands found the hot skin of Buffy’s breasts, she felt an explosion of red-hot sparks cascade over her body and she was certain she could melt into him at that moment … and she wanted nothing more than to do that. Her body longed to be one with him, to merge and flow in a heated river of lava down to the sea … turning the cool water into steam which they could ride together – up, up, up – higher than the clouds, higher than the stars … higher than heaven.
“No… Spike … stop…” Buffy muttered halfheartedly, still running her own hands over the hard muscles of his chest and stomach.
“No … no stop – go,” Spike muttered back in protest.
“The neighbors …” Buffy pointed out as he kissed a line of fire from her ear to her collarbone.
“Sod ‘em…” Spike murmured against her skin as he trailed his tongue lower.
“The babies…” Buffy continued, trying to look up at the windows at the back of the house to see if anyone was looking out.
“Are sleepin’ …” Spike assured her as he reached her tit and pulled her hot, hard nipple into his mouth and nibbled on it with his teeth.
“Bedroom…” Buffy requested even as her body arched and quivered, reacting to his touch and fought her brain for control.
“God, Spike … please!” Buffy begged, not sure herself what she was begging for; for him to stop so they could go upstairs to the privacy of their bedroom or for him to continue and give her what she needed right there in the backyard.
Spike roared in frustration, a tiny bit of blood finally making it back to his brain, and pushed up and off her and stood up. He pulled his torn and tattered t-shirt off and dropped it on the ground, then did his best to refasten his belt, but the buttons on his jeans were a lost cause – well, in fact, they seemed to be completely lost. When he’d done all he could to secure what remained of his clothing, he reached down and easily picked her up in his arms as she tried to hold her own clothes closed without the benefit of snaps and buttons.
Spike carried her with one arm around her back and one under her knees into the garage, through the great room and to the stairs. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed and sucked and nibbled on his neck as he went … which really wasn’t helping any. If she knew how hard she was making it for him to walk, she’d stop that … well, maybe she would.
About halfway up the stairs Spike stopped. “Bloody hell…” he moaned as he rolled his head back and looked up at the ceiling.
“What? What’s wrong?” Buffy questioned, as she momentarily paused her hickey-raising sucks on his neck to listen … then she heard it too. Billy.
Buffy felt like a glacier of ice had just hardened the molten steel and lava that had only a moment before threatened to consume her. She and Spike both sighed heavily as Spike trudged dejectedly the rest of the way up the stairs before setting her on her feet at the top of the landing. Buffy ran to their room and grabbed a robe, pulling it over her ripped and ravaged clothes, then hurried to the twins’ room. Billy was still screaming and crying when she got there and Dani had awoken and turned the light on.
“Shhhhhh…. Shhhhhh, baby,” Buffy murmured against her son’s ear as she pulled him into a hug and tried to soothe him and allay the fears that his nightmare had instilled in him. “It’s ok, sweet boy, everything’s ok… Dani’s ok.”
Billy cried against her as he wrapped his arms around his mother tightly, trying desperately to wipe the images of his sister locked in a horrific dungeon from his mind. He tried so hard to get her out … night after night, but it was always the same, he couldn’t free her –he was helpless against the iron bars and heavy, locked doors of the cold, dark, cavernous jail.
Spike stood in the doorway of the twins' room and wished there was something he could do for his son. He knew how real dreams and nightmares could seem, especially to a child, and how it felt to be helpless to save someone you loved. The nightmares that Spike had after Buffy died falling from the fire escape left him shaken and guilt-ridden. He still had them sometimes, and they still seemed just as real and just as frightening to him as that horrific night in L.A. when he let her down and she sacrificed everything for him and Annie.
Buffy’s eyes met Spike’s over the top of Billy’s head and she gave her husband an apologetic look. I’m sorry …
Spike shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. No worries, pet …
Le Chat Au Chapeau. Le soleil ne brilliat pas…
The next morning, while Buffy was getting the kids their breakfast, Anya called to remind her that she had promised to work at the Magic Box – Giles was heading back to Willow and Tara’s for more father-son bonding time and would be gone the rest of the week. Between lack of sleep and worry about Billy (who would not let her leave his side the whole rest of the night; every time she got him back to sleep and tried to sneak away, he’d wake up and beg her not to go) and a horniness level she didn’t know existed, she had totally forgotten about working for Giles.
Oh well – horniness would just have to wait another day. She left Spike a note and, after seeing the kids onto their buses, she went to the Magic Box … she hoped to God that Anya wouldn’t have some new orgasm story to share with her today. Since Xander stopped drinking after the Scooby meeting when he learned of his alter-ego’s early death, things had improved between the pair. Although still up against it financially, their love life had taken a turn for the better – much to Anya’s delight. Buffy really didn’t think she could take one of the ex-demon’s detailed stories of erotica or the new position or game they’d tried the previous night right now.
Spike awoke about mid-day to find the house empty and a note from Buffy waiting for him on the refrigerator … she was at the Magic Box. That meant he’d need to pick the kids up at the bus stop – then it would be a whirlwind of homework and arguments and videogames and dinner and Buffy would be home just in time for him to head out to Willy’s for his shift. He cursed to himself as he got the blood from the fridge, slamming the door closed and rattling everything in it, retrieving a mug from the cupboard and slamming that door closed, popping the mug into the microwave and slamming that door closed …
Didn’t being married to a wild angel mean you never had to wonder when you’d get lucky again? Wasn’t sex pretty much anytime you wanted one of the perks of marriage for both of them? Not having to go through days with a constant bulge in your jeans and nights reciting ‘The Cat in the Hat’ in French? Humph! That’s what it should mean … but it wasn’t working that way of late. He could barely remember the last time he’d had to take comfort with Mother Palm and her five daughters … but that looked like the only relief he’d get on this day, and he, along with the buttons on his jeans, had to have some relief.
Buffy ran in just as Spike was setting a large salad, a pot of spaghetti, and a platter of garlic bread on the table. All the kids were in their seats, hands and faces washed, waiting to be served. Although she and Spike had ‘talked’ back and forth throughout the afternoon, the shop had been too busy with customers for Buffy to even take a lunch break. Moments like this made her so glad that Spike had taken over the cooking, otherwise it would’ve been French fries and double cheeseburgers from McDonald’s – which the kids would’ve loved, but wasn’t the most nutritious thing in the world to feed growing bodies.
Spike stopped what he was doing and pulled her to him as she came in, dropping a soft kiss on her lips. The bulge that had finally disappeared from the front of his jeans after a couple of visits to Mother Palm, began growing again as Buffy leaned against him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and returned his kiss. Let’s face it, wanking off just wasn’t the same as a warm, heavenly body pressed against you, sweet lips to taste and tease, and the heated bliss you could achieve together.
JJ, Dani, and Billy started making choking sounds after the kiss lasted longer than a typical ‘peck on the lips’, welcome home kiss, bringing Buffy and Spike back to the moment. Buffy leaned her forehead against Spike’s for a few moments as she got breath back into her lungs and tried to make sure her knees wouldn’t wobble before pulling back and giving him another apologetic smile. Spike shrugged as he pulled away from her, happy that he had on his ‘kiss the cook’ apron covering his waist, and points lower, at that moment. Buffy was pretty sure they didn't make an apron that said what Buffy wanted to do to that cook.
Buffy gave all the kids kisses as Spike went back to serving up their dinner. When everyone was served, conversations about school and the new soccer league that they’d gotten Dani into and dance and teachers and TV shows and homework filled the kitchen as they ate, Buffy at one end of the table and Spike at the other, connected only by wistful glances, which were lost on the children, as they prattled on happily about their days.
After dinner, Buffy walked Spike out to the garden as he headed for work.
“I don’t give a bloody damn if the world comes to an end t’night, pet … you and me need some time to ourselves,” Spike’s voice rumbled against her ear after their kiss ended.
“Hell or high water,” Buffy agreed, trailing her hand down his chest, over his belt, and settling it on the strained denim of his jeans.
Spike closed his eyes and took a sharp breath when her hand settled on his hard cock – even through the thick material of his jeans it felt better than his hand had felt in the shower earlier.
“You better go … you’ll be late,” Buffy whispered, grudgingly dropping her hand away and pulling Spike from fantasies of a quickie behind the fountain or under the garden stairs.
Spike blew out a breath, opened his eyes and nodded. “T’night,” he assured them both and Buffy nodded resolutely.
Spike stomped through the backdoor of Willy’s and opened his locker, banging the metal door back against the one next to it with a loud CLANG before pulling out the lightweight, black jacket with the word ‘Security’ silkscreened in bright yellow on the back. Spike slammed the locker shut and slipped the jacket on before taking his timecard from the slot and punching in. He nearly took the time clock down off the wall in the process – giving the term ‘punching in’ a whole new meaning as he banged down on the clock with his fist to stamp the time on the card.
As he strode out of the storeroom towards the bar, Willy called to him from his office.
“Spike! Can I have word, man?”
Spike stopped and rolled his eyes, what now?
“I wasn’t late …” Spike pointed out as he entered his boss’ office.
“Yeah, Spike, I know. I just want to talk to you a minute,” Willy started, standing up but staying behind his desk. “I don’t know what’s up with you lately, but you need to take it down a notch.”
Spike raised his brows and hooked his thumbs over his belt buckle, waiting for the rest of the sermon.
“I mean … I know we all have off days, but you were over the top last night, man,” Willy continued. “You tossed three guys out without collecting their tabs, beat the shit out of one of my best paying customers, and ran two of my girls off,” Willy listed Spike’s indiscretions. “You’re killin’ me, man.”
Spike narrowed his eyes at the weasel he called his boss and bit his bottom lip thinking that if he thought Spike was killing him last night, that he could give the wanker a proper demonstration of a real killing right now.
When Spike didn’t say anything, Willy got a little braver and continued, “The next guy you toss out without collecting their tab, I’m gonna take it out of your pay,” Willy informed him. “And don’t scare my girls off – I get a percentage of their take. I can’t afford to lose that booty income or I won’t be able to pay you and Faith both,” Willy threatened.
Spike growled low under his breath. He hated being threatened … especially by a two-faced prat like Willy, someone he could shred into ribbons without even breaking a sweat.
“Now, don’t be that way, Spike,” Willy cajoled, changing to a friendly tone. “It’s nothing personal, but I gotta make a living here – that’s how it works. If I don’t make money, you don’t make money – capisce?”
Spike dropped his hands to his sides and balled them into tight fists. It felt like every muscle in his body would explode if he didn’t rip this wanker’s head off and eat his brains in the next three seconds …
“I just need you to chill out, man … that’s all. Just do your job, don’t get rough with the paying customers, and stop scaring the girls off – can you do that? Please?” Willy added the last word as an afterthought, just to try and make it sound more like a request than an order – he knew Spike hated to be ordered around.
Spike didn’t trust himself to stay in the room with the wanker any longer and didn’t trust himself to speak, so he turned on his heel and slammed the door on his way out of his boss’ office, splintering the jamb and nearly ripping it off its hinges. He headed back through the storeroom and out into the alley behind the bar where he picked up a two-by-four that was lying on the ground and began beating the shit out the dumpster.
“Hey, Spike … whatcha doing, buddy?” Clem asked as he walked out the back door of the bar. He knew Willy was gonna have ‘a talk’ with Spike … and that was never good.
“What’s it look like I’m bloody doin’?” Spike growled as he continued beating the dumpster, which he thought had an uncanny resemblance to his wanker boss’ face.
“Redecorating the alley?” Clem guessed, keeping his distance.
Spike let out a long, angry roar and threw the two-by-four against the back wall of the bar, feeling only slightly better for his victory over the dumpster. "That bloody wanker wants to threaten me!? ME!? I outta rip his bloody lungs out!" Spike ranted before smashing his fist against the red brick wall of the bar and punching a hole all the way through.
Clem flinched and backed up a step when Spike pulled his fist back out, raining plaster, sand, and broken pieces of red brick down onto the pavement of the alley.
“I’m losin’ my bloody mind!” Spike admitted to his friend, pulling on his hair with both hands before telling him that he hadn’t had a minute alone with Buffy for days.
“Days, huh?” Clem questioned, shaking his head in sympathy. “That’s rough man …” he agreed, although he never thought Buffy was all that attractive … what with her tight, tan skin, all that long hair, and those green eyes … ewwww. But apparently Spike liked her well enough. “Maybe Willy would let you have a poke with Cheval … you know – on the house.”
Spike put his hands on his hips and glared at Clem … but then just shook his head. “Not really my type, mate… too many antennas poking out in all directions,” Spike explained, using his fingers to imitate antennas coming out of the top of his head and face.
“That’s the best part of her, man!” Clem informed him. “Have you seen what she can do with those antennas?!”
Spike chuckled softly and shook his head as he started walking towards the backdoor of the bar. “Might be worth it if she could get in the Sky Sports Channel on ‘em,” Spike offered as he patted his friend on the back on his way by.
“Oh … yeah, she can do that too – but it costs extra,” Clem assured him as he turned and followed him in.
When Spike walked into the bar, everyone seemed to lower their voices and give him wary glances. He’d been hell to live with the last few nights, no one wanted to feel his wrath. Spike rolled his eyes, grabbed a beer, and took his regular seat at a back table where he could watch and listen to everything that was going on. When Cheval walked in, Spike followed her with his eyes, his mind involuntarily imagining just what she could do with all those antennas … apart from getting in football matches on the telly. Spike wrestled those thoughts from his mind and blew out a long breath … it was gonna be another hard day’s night.
Spike had just come back in from ‘escorting’ two Drakmar demons out of the club and collecting their bar tabs after they started a pissing contest standing at the dartboard throw line … a literal pissing contest. As Spike laid the money on the bar for Willy, his boss stopped him. “Hey man, could you bring me a case of Crown from the backroom?” he requested of Spike.
Spike looked at him incredulously, turning his back so the word ‘Security’ on his jacket was facing his boss. “Security, mate … not a bloody stock boy,” Spike informed him tersely as he started back towards his seat.
“Joe’s on break,” Willy explained. “Can you just get me a case of Crown from the backroom? I’m totally dry here … if I’m out, I can’t sell it; if I can’t sell it, I can’t make money; if I don’t make money …” Willy let his voice trail off with a shrug.
Spike rolled his eyes, remembering his earlier contention that if Willy didn’t make money, Spike didn’t make money. “Bloody worthless wanker…” Spike muttered under his breath as he headed towards the storeroom.
Spike was searching through the storeroom for the Crown Royal, getting more and more agitated the longer it took. He heard the door open and close … no doubt Willy had sent someone to prod him along. “Tell the wanker to sod off! I’m bloody well lookin’ for it!” Spike called back over his shoulder without turning around.
“Well … maybe I can help you find it,” Buffy cooed as she locked the storeroom door behind her.
Spike turned and quickly stood up from where he was crouched down checking the cases on the bottom shelves. “Buffy!” he exclaimed in surprise, moving out from between the tall shelves that held cases of beer and booze. His first thought was that something was wrong with one of the bits … but as he turned the corner around the shelves and she came into view, his worry faded.
Spike stopped in his tracks and a sexy smirk came to his lips. His wife was striking a pose near the door with nothing on but a short, black raincoat and three inch heels.
When he just stared at her, Buffy began walking slowly across the floor towards him, taking her time as she began unfastening the buttons on the coat. “What is it you were looking for?” Buffy questioned as she came within reach of him.
“I … uhhh …” Spike muttered as she trailed a finger down his chest and settled her hand on his belt buckle. “…Not a buggering clue …”
Spike felt his brain sputter and choke then fizzle completely, like a gasoline motor that had been fed diesel fuel.
“Well, aren’t you gonna kiss me?” Buffy questioned coquettishly, batting her lashes at him, as she outlined the bulge in Spike’s jeans delicately with her fingernail.
“Huh? Uhhhh … oh, ummm,” Spike dropped his gaze down to her hand as it slowly traced the outline of his cock in his jeans, then shook his head, trying to clear it. Obviously he was delusional … this was some kind of daydream or something, like Cheval and her antennas … he really needed to get laid in the worst way.
When he looked back up at Buffy, she raised her brows expectantly and smiled at him before touching a manicured finger to her lips. “Kiss ... you know, where your lips and my lips try to suck each other’s faces off?” Buffy teased as she leaned in and brushed her lips softly against his.
Like a dead battery getting a jump from another, her lips touching his seemed to recharge his brain and he realized that it wasn’t a dream or a delusion … it was actually Buffy standing in front of him half naked. “God, Buffy …” Spike moaned as he wrapped his arms around her and yanked her against him, capturing her lips in a crazed attempt to suck her face off.
Buffy squealed in surprise when he suddenly jerked her against him, but recovered quickly and returned his kiss with as much feverish passion as he was delivering, wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting herself up as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Oh fuck … oh God, Buffy …” Spike muttered as he turned and pressed her against the closest wall. His cock throbbed and strained against his jeans and Buffy reached between them to release it from its prison. She didn’t even get all the buttons ripped off his jeans before his rod sprang into her hand, hard and yearning.
“Oh Spike … fuck me … fuck me baby …” Buffy begged as she stroked his shaft roughly, nearly bringing him to climax right then.
Spike roared and grabbed Buffy by the hips as she lowered down on him and he thrust up – burying his cock in her in one hard, fast stroke.
“OH GOD!” they both exclaimed at once as the hot lava that had been held at bay for so long broke free and began boiling once again. They both pulled back and looked into their lover’s eyes as the white-hot molten passion within them swirled and coursed through their veins, threatening to melt them into one being.
Chill bumps sprang up on Buffy’s skin, racing over her body like waves of cool water over the burning, sun-drenched, black sand of a volcanic beach as the first orgasm she’d had in days ricocheted through her body. She gasped as her pussy shuddered and tightened around his hardness, carrying her higher up the mountain … closer and closer to nirvana.
Spike began moving against her, with powerful thrusts of his hips, pounding her against the wall at her back. Buffy was soon matching his rhythm, using her legs for leverage, lifting up and pounding down on him as he thrust up. Unable to find any purchase on the wall at her back, she steadied herself on his strong shoulders as all the pent up frustration came to a head within them and exploded like Mount Vesuvius … and they were Pompeii and Herculaneum, standing directly in the path of destruction.
Spike tried to hold back … to keep his cum from surging up into her too soon, but it was a lost cause. Her hot pussy engulfing him, squeezing his rod with excruciating pleasure, was more than his deprived body could fight for very long. Spike growled against her chest, trying to get his mouth to her breast, but she hadn’t quite gotten the coat unbuttoned enough. Buffy let go of his shoulders and ripped her coat the rest of the way open and Spike latched onto one hot, hard nipple just as he lost the last thread of control and his cum shot into her in an eruption of utter bliss.
Buffy felt his cock pulse and throb as his cum boiled into her pussy and it sent her higher up the mountain, to the edge of the cliff once again, but the highest peak was still just out of reach …
“Bite me!” Buffy demanded as Spike continued slamming into her, his cock still hard, still yearning for her. “God, Spike … bite me!” she screamed.
Spike hesitated momentarily, the vision of his demon trying to kill her in purgatory flashing in his mind. She hadn’t invited the demon into their bed since …
Spike slowed his movements and pulled back to look at her, his blue eyes unsure, questioning.
Buffy leaned forward, her mouth against his ear. “I trust you … take me there, Spike … come with me all the way to heaven,” she whispered to him.
Spike allowed the demon to the surface … her neck only an inch from his deadly fangs. He could hear and feel her blood racing just under her golden skin, he could smell her arousal as her juices covered him, hear her heart thundering in her chest… and he gave the demon the reins.
Spike growled against her skin as he slammed his hips against her harder and faster and sank his razor sharp fangs into the damp, salty skin of her neck. As the first taste of boiling Slayer blood trickled down his throat, Spike roared in fevered rapture and the lava in his gut flowed out, engulfing him in a blazing force of nature that nothing could contain.
Buffy felt white-hot sparks cascading down her body from Spike’s bite as the passion in her core boiled hotter and higher, flowing upwards to meet the falling sparks, filling her with an inferno of molten bliss.
Buffy screamed and her body tensed and bucked against him as she reached the top of the highest mountain and exploded high into the air in a fiery eruption of utter ecstasy. Their bodies became nothing more than afterthoughts as the lovers flowed unencumbered down the mountain in a blaze of undulating, twisting, sinuous lava – bound for the sea far below. Their souls seemed to touch then part … then wind their way back again as their bodies climaxed, consuming them in wave after wave of torrid, burning magma.
As they reached the cool, blue-green water of the sea, their blazing heat flowed in sultry rivers of passion down into the bottomless ocean. The clear water boiled and sizzled when they touched it, then transformed into searing steam, which lifted them up … up past the top of the mountain, beyond the moon, beyond the sun. Higher and higher they rose; vaporous, diaphanous wisps of ecstasy, swirling around each other, mingling and separating and joining again as their bodies found the release they so desperately needed and their spirits soared unencumbered through the heavens.
Spike’s legs wobbled and his knees gave way under them and the lovers tumbled to the floor of the stockroom … bringing their spirits back down to earth with a loud thud. Spike held onto Buffy, keeping her atop him and sheltered from the impact, as the lovers landed in a glorious heap on the floor.
Buffy was trying to get her breath back, to get air back into her lungs and oxygen to her brain, but the abrupt end to their fantastic voyage caused her to burst into uncontrollable laughter when she landed on top of her husband. All the tension and longing and frustration were lifted from her body and mind and replaced with joy and a feeling of wholeness that made every nerve ending in her body giggle and squeal with delight. Buffy pushed up and sat back on Spike’s hips when she finally got her laughing fit reduced to a giddy grin and looked down at him.
His hair, which had been perfectly coiffed – straight and flat, when she came into the room, was now a tangle of curls and spikes; his blue eyes, which had been first angry then confused, where now full of mirth as he looked up into hers; his shoulders, before full of tension were relaxed and, of course, his cock, before engorged and neglected, was finally blissfully exhausted under her.
“You ripped my coat,” Buffy accused with a pout, tugging on the raincoat and looking at the loose threads that once held buttons.
“Bollocks … you ripped your bloody coat,” Spike reminded her. “You also tore the buttons off m’ jeans … second pair in two bloody days…” he retaliated. “You need to learn to sew – we can’t afford new wardrobes every week.”
“Hmmph,” Buffy sniffed haughtily, looking around the floor, which was littered with buttons. “You can sew them back on. I ripped ‘em off – my job here is done.”
Spike laughed – that deep, contagious laugh that started deep in his gut and reverberated through the whole room. Figured she’d find a way to get out of sewing and lay it on him. Truth be told, though … he’d be happy to sew the buttons back on as many times as she wanted to rip them off, because the bits in between the ripping and the sewing were some of most incredible times he’d ever known.
Buffy laid her body down against his, resting her head on his shoulder and sighed dreamily, not wanting to let the moment end, holding on for just a few minutes longer.
“Where’re the bits?” Spike asked as he wrapped his arms around her, knowing it was past their bedtime.
“Clem’s watching them…” Buffy informed him with a contented sigh.
Spike’s brows shot up. “Is he, now? And whose idea was that?”
“He came by … said you needed some help … help that Faith couldn’t give you.”
Spike shook his head. “Clem’s a mate … best mate I’ve ever had.”
Buffy nodded her agreement. “He also said something about us getting Sky Sports Channel … but I don’t know what that meant.”
Spike laughed again and rolled his eyes. “No worries … don’t need any antennas when I got you, luv.”
When Spike and Buffy emerged from the storeroom a little while later, her with one of his extra t-shirts on under her torn raincoat and he having changed into the extra pair of jeans he kept in his locker, the entire bar erupted in applause.
Spike, of course, smirked and took a deep bow.
“Get over yourself, Spike!” Willy called from behind the bar as he poured a glass of Crown Royal on the rocks for a Fyarl demon. “We’re applauding the Slayer!”
Spike shrugged and waved a hand back towards his lovely assistant and the applause grew louder and was joined with hoots and hollers and wolf-whistles. Buffy blushed, but curtsied to her adoring fans, holding her torn coat closed with one hand, still unable to wipe the giddy grin off her lips.
“A toast to Buffy, the Vampire Tamer!” someone in the crowd called out and everyone chanted, “Here, here!” and raised their glasses in a toast.
Buffy laughed and leaned against Spike as he tucked her under his arm and held her close. “Well … it’s a hard job, but somebody’s got to do it…” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist as the bar erupted in cheers and laughter. If anyone could slay Spike’s bad mood, it was Buffy.
Hard Day's Night - The Beatles
It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog
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