Season 5. Begins with
‘Spiral’ in the abandoned gas station, and goes far off-canon almost
When Dawn makes the ultimate
sacrifice to save her sister, friends, and the world, Buffy’s mind
snaps. When Buffy's friends give up hope of her ever recovering, and become
afraid that she’ll turn violent and uncontrollable, they call in the Council to help.
Fearing what the Council will do, Spike, forgotten and ignored by her
friends, steps in. Will he be able to reach the Slayer when no one else could?
Will he be able to keep her out of the hands of the Council and away
from her ‘helpful’ friends? How much heartbreak, guilt, and failure can
one girl stand before her indestructible spirit finally resigns the
fight and gives up hope?
YOU for reading and to Paganbaby for taking time out of her hectic life to beta this for me!
Her suggestions and commentary that always makes me smile. Thanks to her
also for use of her 'Panther Crawl' gif. All mistakes
are mine because I can't stop fiddling right up to the last moment.
Rating / Warnings:
Main Character Death. Implied Rape. Plenty of angst.
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.
Later that day …
Buffy came in from taking a swim,
still drying her hair on one of the beach towels that came with the bungalow, to
find Spike on the room’s computer. She walked up behind him and looked over his
shoulder, still dripping water onto the tile floor.
“Whatcha doin’?” she wondered as
she looked at the screen.
“Just some … research,” Spike
Buffy cocked a brow at him
momentarily. ‘Spike’ and ‘research’ seemed un-mixy, but then she remembered the
stuff he’d looked up and info he’d gotten on Croatia.
“On what?” she asked.
“Best places t’ raise kids in the
US,” he reported.
“Well, we got Buffalo, New York
…” he began.
“Too cold,” Buffy stopped him.
“Figured,” Spike agreed. “Reckon
that also eliminates Albany, Syracuse, Rochester…”
“Seriously?” Buffy asked,
Spike shrugged. “Don’t reckon you
want to go to Des Moines, Iowa, either.”
“Definitely not – Riley’s from
Iowa. Who put this list together?” Buffy wondered.
“Forbes Magazine,” Spike told her
as he continued scanning the list.
“No wonder – you need to find a
list by some hippies, not suits,” she advised.
Spike turned his head and looked
up at her over his shoulder. “Woodstock was in New York, too, luv,” he reminded
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I don’t
do cold. Find someplace warm and fun and not all stuffed-shirty. Like Venice
Beach, only without the beach and not in California.”
Spike went back to his search and
clicked on another list of ‘best cities for families’ done by Parenting.com.
“Oh! Look! Austin, Texas. That
sounds warm,” she observed pointing at the screen.
Spike clicked on it and began to
read aloud, “‘Austin is a way-cool progressive city in a warm and sunny climate.
City pools stay open year-round, and the bass are always biting at Town Lake.
“‘The self-proclaimed ‘Live Music
Capital of the World’, Austin also hosts the annual South by Southwest music,
film, and interactive festival. In recent years, some Austinites have adopted
the unofficial slogan ‘Keep Austin Weird’. This interpretation of the classic,
‘Texas-style’ sense of independence refers to the traditional and proudly
eclectic, liberal lifestyles of many Austin residents.
“‘With an abundance of
pediatricians, 27,000 acres of parkland, and plenty of farmers’ markets and food
co-ops, Austin is a well-rounded, healthy hometown.’”
“Perfect,” Buffy announced as she
wrapped the towel around her hair to get it to stop dripping. “Sounds like we’d
fit right in.”
Spike swiveled the chair all the
way around to look at her. “Jumpin’ to decisions pretty fast aren’t ya, Slayer?”
“What? It sounds perfect. They
like weird, we’re weird. What else is there to think about?” Buffy
defended. “Just forgetting a moment that you’re a chipped-vampire, I’m an
ex-Slayer, and the Bot is a … bot, how do you think a threesome of one guy
living with identical twins and raising two small children would fit in in some
conservative northern town?”
Spike frowned and scratched his
head. “Reckon ya got me there, pet.”
“Don’t over-think it. I always
find going with my first instinct is best. When I start thinking, that’s usually
not of the good,” Buffy advised profoundly.
Spike laughed, although he was
sure she wasn’t joking – at all. “Right then,” he agreed. “Austin it is. Reckon
I have the afternoon free now. Whatever shall I do t’ fill the time?” he
wondered with mock solemnity, looking up at her with an innocent, little-boy
Buffy looked around the cabin.
“Where’s the Bot … I mean Joan?”
“Out on errands.”
Buffy cocked a brow at him. “For
Spike smirked. “Long.”
Buffy grinned. “Really?”
“Mmmmhmmm,” Spike drawled as he
stood up in front of her.
“I’m … all salty,” Buffy breathed
as his bare chest brushed against her wet bikini top when he stood, sending
shivers through her body.
“Enhances the flavor,” Spike
purred. He clenched his fists against his thighs, physically restraining himself
from pulling her against him and crushing his lips to hers.
“It’s bad for your blood
pressure,” she teased. Buffy’s heart leapt at the brief contact and that
familiar tingling fire sparked to life in her loins.
“Lucky I don’t ‘ave any,” he
“Mmm, lucky.” She licked her lips
nervously waiting for him to kiss her, to pull her to him, to lead – but he
Spike mistook her delay, thinking
she had changed her mind about finishing what they’d started earlier. After a
few moments he cleared his throat and ducked his head as he stepped to the side,
out of her personal space.
“Sorry,” he murmured as he moved
away. “Didn’t mean t’ push.”
Buffy reached out and grabbed his
hand. “No, Spike – I’m sorry. I … I’m just a little nervous … I’m not sure
I’m ready to lead this dance.”
Spike nodded and lifted her hand
to his lips. He dropped a soft kiss on her small but deadly knuckles, intending
to release her hand and move away – to wait until she was ready.
“Would you … lead?” she asked
tentatively before he could let go of her hand.
He tilted his head and looked at
“I mean …” She swallowed hard. “I
love you. I trust you. Would you … make love to me? Remind me that it’s … not …
like…” Buffy felt her throat tighten and tears sting her eyes. She blinked them
back rapidly and cleared her throat. “Make love to me, William Pratt.”
Spike felt his heart swell at her
words. He gently pulled her to him with the hand he’d been holding, and touched
his lips to hers.
Buffy melted against him. She
didn’t tense up this time, but instead allowed the circle of his strong arms to
be her refuge, her sanctuary. She was safe here, she was loved – she didn’t have
to be anything she wasn’t, didn’t have to worry about any dangers. Her anchor
wouldn’t let her drift onto the rocks and crash.
“I love you, Buffy,” Spike
murmured against her salty lips before deepening the kiss by slow degrees. She
lost herself in the feeling of sweet surrender, of letting her defenses down,
and basking in his love. His tongue gently delved into her mouth and swept across her
teeth, then found hers and caressed it softly, lovingly.
Spike pulled away from the kiss
just as he’d deepened it: by slow degrees, leaving Buffy panting for air when
their lips finally parted. He bent down slowly, and gently lifted her into his
arms with one hand under her knees and the other behind her back. Buffy’s arms
snaked around his neck and the towel fell off her wet hair as he began walking
with her into the bedroom.
Buffy’s heart skittered in her
chest as she nuzzled her damp head against his shoulder. She felt the thrill of
goose-flesh wash over her in a flood of emotion, tingling her body from head to
toe in anticipation. Her whole body shivered in an uncontrollable reaction to
being in Spike’s arms and what she knew would follow.
“All ya have to do is say ‘stop’
and I will, pet,” Spike assured her in a whisper as he gently laid her down on
their bed. “Doesn’t matter when – if ya change your mind, just tell me. Never
want t' hurt you, pet ... never.”
Buffy gave him a grateful smile
and nodded, but deep down she knew that wouldn’t be necessary. There was nothing
about this that compared in any way to what Weatherby had done – it was as
different as night and day, as love and hate, as giving and taking.
Spike stood back up and let his
eyes glide slowly over her body. Her limbs were lean and golden tan, her
breasts, still covered by her bikini top, heaved with her excitement. His eyes
would’ve normally stopped there for a good while, drinking in every curve, noticing
how her nipples were hard against the thin, wet fabric of the top, but today
they shifted lower, to the cute little bump in her once-flat, golden-tan,
stomach. If he hadn’t known what it was, it wouldn’t have even been enough to
draw a second look – but he knew.
He couldn’t stop himself from
leaning down and dropping a loving kiss atop it before resuming his mission.
Standing beside where she lay on the bed, he gently
hooked the fingers of each hand beneath the bottoms of her suit where it clung
to her shapely hips, and began to slide the damp cloth down her legs.
Buffy lifted her hips to free the
material, and more goose-bumps erupted on her skin and chased his hands down her
strong, lithe, gymnast’s legs. Spike’s hands never left her body as he pressed
the fabric down over her thighs, her knees, her calves, her ankles. He trailed
all the way to her bare, sandy toes before his strong, gentle hands left her
flesh, and the wet suit dropped unceremoniously to the tile floor.
Still standing beside her
with his jeans still on, Spike began the trek back up her legs with his hands. Pausing
momentarily to tease and tickle the soft flesh at the back of her knees, causing
Buffy to squirm, and a giggle to grace her lips.
“So beautiful you are, Buffy,” he
whispered to her as his fingers danced in a gentle glissade up her golden limbs to her
Buffy moaned when his hands
passed over her springy curls like a ghost, never touching her skin. He watched
her face as he backtracked and slid over them again, and again. Each gentle pass drew a
moan of pleasure from her which warmed Spike like a ray of sunshine. On the next trip back around, he touched down more
firmly, grazing her skin with his fingertips and her moan turned into a gasp of
He wished she’d talk to him like
she used to, but perhaps it was just too soon for that. Or, he realized, since
he was leading this dance, perhaps it should be up to him to begin the
conversation. “Love how you moan when I touch you, luv. So passionate you are.
Can smell your desire, pet. You smell like heaven, look like a tropical angel
with a halo of brilliant spun gold. Got no idea what you do to me, Buffy. No
bloody idea how much I love you…”
“Oh, Spike,” she breathed when he
continued teasing her dark triangle, never delving between her wet folds. “Feels sooo good. I missed your touch. Missed this … missed you.”
“Never left, luv. Never will,”
Spike reminded and assured her.
Buffy looked up and met his eyes.
“I know … I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice sad.
“Shhhh,” Spike admonished her
gently, his hand moving up to touch her cheek lovingly. “Not your fault, luv. Past is
past … let me love you now and forever.”
Buffy bit her bottom lip and
nodded. “Now and forever,” she confirmed.
Buffy laid her palm over his and
sat up slowly, dropping her legs over the edge of the bed and turning to face him. She showered the
alabaster skin of his hard, flat stomach with gentle kisses as he stood before
her, then moved her hands to the button on his jeans. She unbuttoned them
easily, then slid his zipper down gingerly, freeing his urgent need from the
confines of the denim.
Spike moaned when she kissed the
waving head of his cock while her hands slid his jeans down his slim hips. Spike
took a reluctant step back so he could step on the hem of one leg of his jeans
and lift his foot clear before repeating the process with the other, finally
freeing himself of them completely.
Buffy smiled as she watched him
shrug out of them deftly – he only swayed and almost fell once – employing
decades of experience and vampire grace, no doubt. “You know, shorts would be
lots easier to get out of,” she suggested.
Spike snorted. “Big Bad does not
wear bloody short pants,” he retorted tersely. “That’s for poofters and Nancy
boys … and UPS drivers.”
Buffy bit her lip to contain her
grin. “I heard otherwise,” she teased.
Spike scowled at her. “That
wanker Harris,” he snarled. “Told him I’d rip his bloody lungs out if he…”
“Xander didn’t tell,” Buffy cut
him off. “It was Willow.”
Spike growled in anger and
“I think you’d look cute in
shorts,” she continued.
“Big Bad is not cute,” he
informed her angrily.
“Adorable even,” she continued,
Spike’s growl deepened and Buffy
let the laugh out that she’d been holding back.
Spike let his agitation fade as
the sound of her laugher rang in the room like sweet, silver bells. If he had to
wear shorts pants to make her laugh, then he’d wear them every bloody day.
“You’re just taking the piss
outta me,” he accused after a moment.
“Moi?” Buffy asked, widening her
eyes, lifting a hand to her chest, and feigning innocence.
“Careful, Slayer, gonna use up
all your conversational French tossing it about like that.”
Buffy huffed out a sharp breath
of disagreement. “I know lots of French,” she assured him. “In fact, I know all
the French anyone needs to know.”
Spike cocked a skeptical brow at
her. “Let’s hear it then,” he challenged.
Buffy shook her head. “Can’t tell
you, have to show you,” she told him, crooking her index finger at him in a
‘come closer’ gesture.
She kept the
curling motion of her finger
going until Spike had knelt in front of her so that his face was nearly level
with hers. Then she leaned forward and captured his lips with hers, sliding her
tongue between them. Their tongues met and swirled in his mouth, then his arms
were around her and he was pulling her against him. Buffy ravished his lips and
tongue until she began to feel light-headed and had to pull away.
“What more … French does … anyone
need … to know?” she panted.
Spike grinned and shook his head.
“Reckon ya got me there, Slayer.”
“Of course I do,” she replied,
finally getting her breath back. “You’ll probably be better off when you
understand and accept my two life rules.”
“What are those, then?”
“Rule number one: I’m always
right. Rule number two: If I’m wrong, refer to rule number one.”
Spike chuckled. “Cheeky wench,
Buffy lifted one shoulder in a
shrug and tilted her head to that side, offering no argument to his contention.
“Thought you liked cheeky.”
“Nope … love cheeky,” he
admitted. “Wouldn’t say no to another French lesson,” he purred, leaning in to
kiss her again.
“Mmmmm,” Buffy burbled against
his lips as he resumed the lesson, parting his lips to let her sweet tongue
slide into his mouth.
Spike’s hands wandered over
Buffy’s back and up to the bow that held the straps of her bikini top around her
neck. He found the ends of the bow and tugged lightly, unfastening the straps of
the damp garment easily. His hands followed the strings down until his palms
rested on the naked curve of her breasts.
Buffy’s back arched when Spike’s
thumbs raked over her cool, bare nipples, hardening them into tight pebbles with
barely a touch. Their kiss broke when Buffy’s body tensed into a bow. Buffy
leaned back on her hands, reluctantly pulling her lips from his, as her breasts
thrust forward into his touch.
Spike dropped his mouth down to
suck one hard nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue over the hard nub and
drawing more moans of pleasure from Buffy. His hand continued to tease the other
nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers, not wanting it to feel neglected
in any way.
Her body reacted to his touch as
if no time had passed since they’d last done this – as if nothing had happened
to her since Vegas. But he knew differently, and he carefully kept his lust
reined in. This was no time for wild Slayer/vampire fortification; this was the
time for William to make love to Buffy.
Buffy reached one hand behind her
back and tugged the bow that held the strap of the bikini top around her
ribcage. It came free in an instant and slid to the bed. She didn’t want
anything to hinder Spike’s wandering mouth or hands. She at once longed for his
body to be atop her, for him to be sheathed inside her, and for him to continue
doing exactly what he was doing.
His soft moans and murmurs
against her salty skin made her feel beautiful, desired, wanted, and loved. His
lips knew exactly where to touch her to make her body writhe and tremble. His
hands moved over her body like a harpist’s ghosting over the strings; she could
almost hear the lilting melody of heavenly angels ringing in her ears.
When his mouth moved away from
her breast and he began to lick a line of tingling desire over her abdomen,
Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. She watched him kissing and nipping and
licking her golden skin as he moved down ever further, pausing only when he
reached her navel to drop two soft kisses there, one for each little bit, before
continuing his trek.
Kneeling in front of her, Spike
pressed her knees apart with gentle pressure and lifted her legs up, draping
them over his shoulders. He stopped a moment and inhaled as her pink, dew-soaked
flower was opened to him. His eyes closed and he made the sort of sound in his
throat she might make if she smelled brownies baking: a rapturous, orgasmic
sound that came from somewhere deep down inside.
He opened his eyes and looked up
at her. She was looking at him with a combination of giddy anticipation and
amusement. “Got no idea how beautiful you are, do ya, Slayer? How heavenly you
smell…” Spike asked as he slid his hands up her outer thighs from her knees,
finally settling them on her hips.
Buffy’s smile widened, she
couldn’t help it. She’d spent her life being grossed out by vampires and their
overactive olfactory senses, but somehow Spike made it seem sexy. “From that
sound you made, I’m thinking I smell like brownies baking … double chocolate
Spike tilted his head and gave
her that sweet, indulgent smile he had – the one that meant he thought she was
cute, if a little barmy … or cheeky … or maybe it was shirty. Buffy wasn’t
exactly sure what most of those things meant, but he’d called her all of them at
one time or another.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “But
definitely good enough t’ eat,” he agreed, curling his tongue over his teeth
Spike leaned into her and slid
his tongue between her folds, catching the drops of moisture that clung there as
that same moan emanated from his throat again.
The blissful moan that fell from Buffy's lips mirrored
lifted her legs so that her feet, rather than the back of her thighs, were on his shoulders so he’d have more room. Her flower blossomed for him when she did that,
revealing the source of her heavenly aroma and sweet nectar to him.
“Oh, Buffy…” Spike rumbled as he
touched his tongue down on her clit, circling it gently before sucking the hard,
throbbing nub between his lips.
Buffy’s body shuddered as he
sucked and nipped at her bundle of nerves. She remained propped up on her
elbows, watching him, mesmerized by his passion and the zeal with which he
delved into her. Each touch of his tongue or lips sent bolts of quivering
electricity down her legs and into her core. Her thighs quaked and trembled as
he made love to her with his mouth and built her desire for him even higher.
When Spike slid a finger into her
aching channel, Buffy gasped in pleasure. “God, yes, Spike … so good,” she
breathed as his tongue flicked against her clit and his finger slid in and out
of her in a slow, steady rhythm. After a moment, he increased the friction by
adding another finger, and Buffy’s eyes feathered closed in ecstasy. When he
stretched her wider with a third finger, it only took a few gentle thrusts for
her body to give him what he’d been longing for: her cum.
“Yes, yes, yes …. Spike, yes,”
she chanted, her voice low and breathless. When the wave of euphoria hit her,
she let out a choked gasp, and her head rolled back, her body tensing and
trembling in blissful climax.
“Don’t hold back, pet,” Spike
cajoled gently. “Let it out … love to hear ya … let go,” he encouraged. He’d
almost said he loved to hear her scream – which he did – but thought better of
it at the last moment. His desire to hear her scream was the polar opposite of
Weatherby’s, but there was no way to convey that in these few moments.
Spike’s hatred for the man
redoubled when he felt her holding back, when her joyful exclamation was
thwarted and left to languish in her throat. He would track the bastard down
before they went back to the states. Nothing, not even his chip, could stop
Spike from exacting full and proper revenge on the monster.
Buffy collapsed back onto the
bed, her breathing coming in fits and gasps, as she came down from the crest of
the ride Spike had taken her on. Spike slowed his ministrations, but continued
making love to her with his mouth and hands as she floated back down from
heaven. As her breathing and heart-rate slowly returned to near-normal, Spike
savored her sweet and salty nectar, and the way her legs shook and quivered with
uncontrollable spasms of electricity.
“God, Spike … so good, baby. You
make me feel so good,” Buffy breathed.
Spike caressed her trembling
thighs, then showered the tender flesh nearest his mouth with kisses. He gently
dropped one, then the other of her legs down from his shoulders as he worshiped
them with his mouth and hands, then rose back up to his feet between her legs.
Buffy opened her eyes and looked
up at him, her gaze locking onto her refreshingly blue anchor. The azure warmth
of his love seemed to flood into her heart and pump through her veins, burning
every part of her deliciously. She began to slide back further on the bed as
Spike joined her, stalking forward on hands and knees, matching her slow pace,
never breaking eye contact. When her head nearly touched the other side of the
bed, she stopped and waited for him to catch her with his lithe, panther crawl.
Spike settled his hips between
her legs and dropped down to his elbows. He held himself up off her slightly,
not wanting to put any undue pressure on the little bits, but wanting to feel
her softness heating his body as only she could. Buffy framed his handsome face
with her hands, her fingertips settling admiringly on his high, sharp cheekbones
as her palms cradled his cheeks.
She pulled his lips down to hers
with gentle pressure and kissed him with downy-softness. If not for the emotions
he could practically feel rolling off her, and their naked bodies pressed
together, the kisses she smoothed over his mouth would’ve been chaste and
innocent. When she’d thoroughly covered his lips with the sweet kisses, she
spread out, touching her lips to his strong chin, the tip of his nose, then to
each eyelid, to the scar above his eye, to his forehead.
“I hope he looks just like you,
our little William,” Buffy murmured against his cool skin. “He’ll be so
Spike’s eyes blurred with emotion
and he blinked to clear them. “Not as beautiful as a bitty Buffy,” he replied as
he turned his head within her hands’ embrace, and dropped a kiss on her palm.
“They better be really cute
kids,” Buffy teased as he looked back down into her eyes. “Because they’re gonna
be stubborn as mules and … cheeky, and shirty … and barmy … and possibly even
bratty, if they’re anything like Dawn. Their cuteness may be the only thing that
will save them from their parents’ considerable wrath.”
Spike smiled down on her. “Too
right,” he agreed, still smiling. “Good thing their mum is the epitome of
calmness and serenity.”
Buffy barked out a short,
sarcastic laugh. “And their dad has the patience of Job and the tolerance of
Spike bit his lip and shook his
head in defeat. “We’re buggered.”
Buffy laughed and her eyes
sparkled with joy. Spike thought he’d never seen or heard anything more
beautiful. His own eyes shone, sparkling like sapphires, as he drank her in. His
Buffy. His Buffy was here with him in this moment. He could do anything with her
at his side – even be a patient and tolerant father.
Buffy slid her hands behind his
neck and lifted her head up until her mouth was near his ear. Her warm breath
tickled his skin as she whispered, “Make love to me, William.”
As Buffy settled back onto the
soft mattress, Spike met and held her eyes with his. He slowly pushed up on
strong arms to support his weight above her, never breaking eye contact with his
beautiful, cheeky goddess. Buffy wrapped her legs around his hips as he shifted
back slightly, then Buffy’s hand was between them guiding him into her welcoming
Spike moved slowly, perhaps more
slowly than he had the very first time they’d made love, afraid of hurting her
or frightening her. He knew she was healed physically from her ordeal, but her
mind, he was sure, was still fragile, like a delicate, silvered glass Christmas
ornament. He wanted this to be perfect for her, to show her that he’d never hurt
her, he’d cherish her forever.
Buffy gasped as he pressed in, and her eyes fluttered
closed, but she willed them open again, back to his loving gaze.
Spike stopped moving. “You alright, luv?” he asked
“Perfect,” she replied, her voice
thick with emotion. “I almost forgot how good that feels … that moment of
connection. It’s like …” Buffy bit her bottom lip a moment, searching his eyes
as if she’d find the perfect word floating in their cerulean depths.
“Love,” Spike provided.
Buffy tilted her head slightly in
agreement, but added breathlessly, “It’s the summer sunshine on a clear, blue
sea. It’s bright and dazzling … tingling hot on my body.”
Spike looked at her with a
mixture of awe and disbelief. Had she actually remembered William’s poetic
drivel that he’d prattled on about all those weeks ago?
Buffy smiled up at him. “Next
comes the thunder rolling over a beach at sunrise,” she continued in the same
Spike waited, looking for the
mocking glint in her eyes, but it never came. She wasn’t making fun of him and
his bloody pathetic, poetic notions. “Didn’t know you were … really listening to
that prattle. Kinda hoped you’d’ve forgotten,” he admitted after a moment, ducking his
head a bit with embarrassment.
Buffy brought her hands down from
around his neck to his face, and forced his discomfited eyes back to hers.
“Didn’t I tell you that it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to
me? Did you think I was lying? Did really you think I wouldn’t remember?”
Spike shook his head in awe, then
took a deep, unneeded breath, and pressed into her a little more. “Paris in
spring…” he murmured to her.
Buffy moaned her agreement. “Rio
during Carnival,” she added as he continued his slow plunge into her warm, wet,
“Like bein’ born,” Spike managed
as his hips came to rest against hers, his hardness buried in her to the hilt,
their eyes never wavering from the depths of the other.
“Like dying,” Buffy added with a
moan, as shivers of fire raced through her body, raising a sheen of perspiration
across her salty skin even as chilly, goose-bumps peppered her flesh. “Take me
to heaven on earth, Spike …”
Spike began sliding out almost as
slowly as he’d pressed in. The sensation sent morsels of pure pleasure ricocheting
through Buffy’s body as she felt his shaft pulling against her body’s need to
keep him inside. And then he was pressing back in, and her body rejoiced,
clutching at his hardness, pulling him deep into her core with the ferocity of
“Oh, yes, Spike. Nearly forgot
how good … how you fill me, how you feel inside me – against me. So perfect.”
“You’re bloody glorious, pet,”
Spike breathed back as the tempo of his hips moving against hers increased.
“Never known a woman like you. Never want to lose you, Buffy. You make me feel …
like a man.”
“You are a man, Spike. My
man … our babies’ father. You aren’t gonna lose me. You’re my anchor. I need you
… I love you,” Buffy assured him as she matched his new rhythm, lifting her hips
up to meet his with each thrust.
“Love you, Buffy. Love you more
than you can know,” he gasped back before both of them lost the ability to do
more than murmur random words of praise and love, and moan the other’s name.
The hurricane, tornado,
earthquake, and tidal wave that Spike had included in his list of how it felt to
be with her, to be inside her, came upon them as gentle nudges at first. Like
the pre-tremors before the quake, the breeze before the tornado, the gentle rain
before the hurricane, the calm before the storm; the sensations built slowly but
The two lovers were forces of
nature all their own. When the full vehemence and power of their volcano erupted
and added its power to the quakes and storms already brewing, it sent them both
spiraling to the heaven that she’d asked of him. Together they flew up into the
rapturous abyss to tumble between the stars, to glide along the Milky Way, to
touch the sun, and blaze across the moon. Their bodies remained behind,
helplessly intertwined in the primal dance of life and love and bliss that they
brought to each other, while their spirits soared.
After reveling in the playground
of the gods, they floated gently back to earth, like ashes from the explosion
they’d conjured, back to their spent and gasping bodies.
As they came back to themselves,
they were still helplessly, hopelessly, tangled, connected, clinging to each
other. Buffy steadfastly held Spike to her, secure in the knowledge that his
weight atop her would not harm the little bits inside her belly. Her arms clung
to his back, her legs encircled his slim hips, and her womanhood held his spent
cock inside her in a tight embrace.
Spike had been careful to not flop down on
Buffy, but willingly accepted her gentle insistence on pulling his body against
hers. His arms snaked beneath her shoulders, and his fingers curled in her
golden tresses as he rested against her, his face buried against the thrumming
artery in her neck.
“Warm, gooey caramel and soft,
fluffy clouds,” Buffy rasped out, turning her head slightly so her breath
tickled Spike’s neck.
She could feel him smile against
her over-heated skin.
“Rain on a tin roof,” he
countered, his voice a rumble against her neck.
“Snow on Christmas morning,” she
“Undying love,” he finished,
lifting up to touch his lips to hers.
“Undying love,” she whispered
back against his luscious mouth.
Ok, I have a poll for you guys.
Email me and let me know
if you'd like another threesome later in the story or not. I have a spot
where one will fit in, but I'm just not sure whether to do it or not. What
do you think?
Britney Spears, Sometimes
tell me you're in love with me
Like you can't take your pretty eyes away from me
It's not that I don't want to stay But
every time you come too close I move away
wanna believe in everything you say
'Cause it sounds so good But
if you really want me, move slow
There's things about me you just have to know
Sometimes I run
Sometimes I hide
Sometimes I'm scared of you But
all I really want is to hold you tight
Treat you right, be with you day and night
Baby, all I need is time
don't wanna be so shy
Every time that I'm alone I wonder why
Hope that you will wait for me
You'll see that you're the only one for me
wanna believe in everything that you say
'Cause it sounds so good But
if you really want me, move slow
There's things about me you just have to know
Jest hang around and you'll see
There's nowhere I'd rather be If
you love me, trust in me The
way that I trust in you
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