Buffy woke up with tears on her face and kisses on her back. A sense of guilty denial was in her heart as she surrendered to the slow hand that drifted over her belly and settled around one straining nipple. She didn’t want to go home. Each time she thought of the bus, imagined herself sitting on it and travelling further away from Spike yet closer to her friends and family, the more she realised she didn’t want to. It wasn’t like last time—running because of the pain of loss. This time she felt like she was moving toward something and she couldn’t leave before she completely worked out what it was.
Spike shifted and Buffy could feel the smoothness of his torso as he pressed closer to her back, his hand plucking her nipple while the other squeezed around her waist and settled between her legs, teasing her slit to weeping and gently circling her clit. There was no other option but to part her legs, letting the top one curl up around his thigh as his long straight fingers stroked her repeatedly until tingling began deep in her belly. She couldn’t prevent the slow encouraging gyration of her hips against his hand, or the tipping back of her head to feel the lips of her vampire on her neck. And then his lips were on hers, his hand massaging her breast and the other driving her to the edge.
Before it hit, before she was rocked internally to incredible levels of awareness, he slammed his cock into her shivering tunnel and flipped to his back, Buffy lying back to his front with her legs spreading either side of his thighs. Slow gentle thrusts continued as her nipples were alternatively pinched and soothed, her clit stimulated to agonising hardness. Buffy felt his lips at her throat once again, his tongue cool against her burning flesh, her whole body thrumming with arousal and desperate need for that pinnacle that was dangled just out of her reach. She felt stretched, strummed and shattered, almost beyond the point of sense, and then it was there, a haze of psychedelic patterns before her eyes. Fangs scratched at her throat and Buffy was catapulted into an eager consideration of what it would feel like, with his cock pulsing in her pussy, his hands playing fine music on her body, and the sharp prick of his fangs as he marked her.
Her every experience with Spike had been polar opposites to those she’d shared with Angel, and despite almost dying—and knowing that THAT should have created a phobia she shouldn’t turn her back on—Buffy almost craved knowing how Spike could make it different. If he could make it feel good. As the sharpness lingered against her pulsing vein, Buffy felt almost disappointed that she’d have to give in and betray her need—give in and ask him to do it. Spike hadn’t asked permission of her for anything yet, and this was one thing that would almost kill her to express an interest in feeling. Yet he wasn’t…
Ahhhh, the slow sting as he penetrated and then her legs were pressing together to heighten the friction as he slid in and out of her, the head of his cock bulging against her folds each time he pulled almost all the way out and then forced his way back in again. His lips settled around the puncture marks and the slow seductive sip of her blood made her body burn red hot as Buffy called out her pleasure to the stars.
“Gahhhhhh…” she screamed, body seizing around Spike’s cock as she shuddered and shook before moaning her way back down to where she lay. Body slick with sweat, Buffy came back to earth with slow awareness that a smile so big had settled on her lips and she wasn’t able to budge it.
“Oh. My. God.” The slayer was as limp as a noodle, making Spike’s whole body her pillow as she gave into the lethargy and just flopped on top of him. It was kind of uncomfortable, and yet felt so amazingly good to be so relaxed with the slightly stiff appendage still lodged deep within her.
“Slayer—” he started, his gruff voice sparking little tingles to shoot through Buffy’s body like little devils seeking out evil.
She didn’t want him to talk, didn’t want him to bring up her going back home so she twisted and planted her lips on his. Hungry kisses as their bodies uncurled from the previous knot and then settled into slow, languid nibbles. Buffy felt her lips numb from the high of doing something that felt so amazing, her fingers curled in back of Spike’s hair as his hand swirled little circles on her hip. This little bout of affection was a first, their usual being the more brutal attack as lust tore through bodies built for speed and roughness.
Buffy liked this, loved the shape of his mouth as he sucked on her bottom lip and then poked his tongue passed her teeth. Loved the taste of him as they sipped at each other. She felt her eyelids get heavier and her body start to hum with craving. She couldn’t be still. As his tongue slid against hers, as their lips continued to brush heavenly against the other, her body couldn’t stay still. Buffy could feel the heaviness of her breasts as they pressed harder against his chest, felt the brush of his leg hair as she rubbed the inside of her thigh against him before finding his hip.
“Buffy,” he whispered against her lips and Buffy felt her heart melt. Whatever this was with him, Buffy was loathe for it to stop.
“Shhh,” she answered before letting him slowly roll her to her back and slide snugly back into her warmth. They rocked slowly together, and when at last the final pleasure hit and Spike emptied himself inside her, Buffy felt like crying. If he dared open his mouth and say she had to go home so he could continue on to see Drusilla, she wasn’t going to hit him in the nose, she was going to kick it right through the back of his head.
“Pet?” Spike propped himself up on his elbows, staring down into Buffy’s shimmering eyes and felt the constriction of his heart. With a fond smile, he watched her struggle to regain control and commiserated with himself that his plans just never panned out. Not like he didn’t have plenty of warning of that. Not a one since he’d met the bint had reached fruition.
Her lips were addictive he found as he lowered is head again to peck them a kiss so sweet it made him purr. And then he found the invisible line that he loved to sample from her chin to her shoulder and every lick of skin in between. He was going to miss her when she left. No, he was going to feel more than that. He almost felt like he’d already lost a limb and he hadn’t even looked at the bus timetable yet. He had no idea of what he was going to do—did he stay and get his car fixed before heading back to try and make Dru see reason the best way he knew how? Or was he going to lie around this miserable hotel room and wonder what might have been if he had more courage to follow a dream?
The tears Buffy was fighting suggested that maybe the decision wasn’t entirely his and Spike felt a hitch in his chest that maybe she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet, either. Perhaps wasn’t as prepared as he thought to put this whole event behind her and move onto the next low-browed prancer she came across. And that thought hurt a whole lot more than he’d expected.
“I own a farmhouse, Buffy.” He looked at her earnestly, hoping that she wouldn’t make him say it. Hoping that she’d get that he wanted her to stay without making him force the words out of his mouth. An evil vampire admitting to the bint chosen to kill him and his kind was a crime he didn’t want to be guilty of. Even if it was the truth. Small steps he was willing to make, but that jump would have him in the middle of the creek and no sign of the ever abused paddles.
“I like farmhouses,” she admitted shyly and Spike felt himself melting in the gentle heat of her smile.
He heaved a huge sigh of relief, his arms tightening around her now that he knew he didn’t have to let her go. He could feel she was suffering that same desperation to cling to what they’d discovered, and it made him feel warm all the way on the inside. He’d never felt so in sync with Dru, especially not after he’d found Angelus between her thighs. Well, now he’d seen all manner of morons and demonic freaks giving it to her and he suddenly didn’t feel half as sorry as he had when he’d blasted out of there on the threat of being ripped apart by too many of her paramours.
“Right, then. We should probably head out and have a look while it’s dark out.” Spike made as if to move off the bed and Buffy quickly linked her fingers around his neck and held him to her.
“You think there might be some food out there?” Her question ended with the growl of her stomach and she smiled in embarrassment.
She enthralled Spike with her subtly shy attitude. Asking him for food made her blush, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d seen cuter.
“Let’s stock up before we go out there. Might not want to leave for a while once we get there,” he suggested with a leer and a thrust of his hips against her tender lips.
Buffy promptly forgot any bus-shaped plans and jumped out of bed, dragging a naked Spike behind her.
“Better take another shower, too. You never know about farmy type plumbing.”
Spike studied her ass as it swung to and fro on the way to the bathroom, feeling a growl erupt from his throat as he dived on her, the two of them hitting the floor before the bathroom door. The plumbing could wait. He had further ravishing to dole out yet.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“Whoa! It looks just like a farmhouse is meant to look.”
Spike eyed her strangely as Buffy stared in excited awe at the quaint little dwelling, a shaded porch complete with romantic swing seat almost making him groan.
“What were you expecting? Bloody Amityville Horror?”
“Well duh! You did win it off Mr. Freaky.”
Spike gave an exasperated hiss before rolling his eyes. “It was Mr Frinky, Slayer. Clean the bleeding wax out of those ears of yours.”
She squealed, nearly piercing his eardrums before launching herself across the seat and hugging him bone-crushingly tight.
“Oh my God, this is gonna be wild. Do you think there’s a fireplace? Ooh, how about a farm dog? There has to be a dog somewhere here, right? Or…or a cat,” she claimed, her eyes shining in elation. “Do you think they grow stuff?”
Okay, now she was scaring him.
“Buffy, luv. We’re not here to get all settled and homey. It’s just…a time out, yeah? Just a place to hide from Dru’s murder squad and for us to clear our heads enough to be able to go our separate ways.” It actually hurt to see her enthusiasm ebb and her disappointment in him seep into the wary green eyes. She slipped from his lap, hands letting go of his neck like he was puss, and she climbed from the car. Slow steps took her to the edge of the garden and while Spike watched, wondering why he didn’t staple his mouth shut sometimes, she passed beyond his view up onto the porch and through the front door. Lights flickered on inside and he finally cut the Desoto’s high beams before the battery went flat.
Would it have killed him to confess that Mr Frinky was a damn fine gardener and probably had a fully functioning veggie patch as well as chickens?
Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Spike contemplated having a packet of cigs before he got courageous and went anywhere near her. As something crashed inside and a scream of pure temper reached his ears, he dragged out the cardboard box holding his nicotine habit to ransom and counted them out. Twenty-four. He just prayed it was enough.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
No matter how fast she brushed at them, Buffy found her tears replenished and multiplying. He is such an ass, she reminded herself furiously, sniffling and trying desperately to hold in the sobs. It shouldn’t have hurt, but after the past couple of days and the extreme happiness she’d felt being languished with attention and pleasure in his arms, she’d kind of convinced herself that he’d felt something, anything, and that he wouldn’t be rushing off to take back up with Drusilla. It was getting too hard to remind herself he was evil—especially when he kissed her for hours.
Spike had managed to kidnap her right on the brink of seeing Angel walk out of her life. Somehow that had cut the impact considerably, and instead of her life descending into the pits of despair and depression, Buffy had found she was having fun fighting off Dru’s assassins and getting to know a side of Spike she’d never even considered a soulless demon possessing. He was cute, and sexy, and funny and he cared for her when he was concerned. Sure, he tried to physically better her often and he tied her up and cuffed her to beds and he’d come way close to killing her over the damage she’d accidentally caused to his car.
The point was, in just a few days she’d been shown another way of life and she so wasn’t ready to relinquish it—and she’d thought Spike was enjoying having her around. There had been a look in his eyes when they’d been intimate—no way was she going to jinx everything and say they’d been making that word—that had convinced her it was more than just a time filler. More than just scratching an itch, or dancing with death.
Was she wrong? The possibility filled her with rage and Buffy looked around until she could find something suitably ugly that not even the craziest demon could miss and found it in a disgusting oval orange vase. With a shriek she pelted it against the wall, feeling only a little bit better as it shattered all over the floor. Not until after the fact did she realise that she’d have to clean it up. But it gave her a purpose and hopefully she could cut herself so she’d think less intense thoughts.
The bottom line was that she’d been shown a way to deal with Angel leaving and it was a way that seemed sort of fun and maybe a little bit dangerous but really didn’t seem so much anymore. As long as he didn’t revive his plan to take her to Dru, then maybe things could be okay.
This house bought them time, bought them a chance to not only get to know each other, but to see if what they’d been experiencing was something that was really just out of the ordinary and almost ready to fizzle. The way her body began the awareness and mating buzz she knew it had to be more.
It was decided. Buffy wouldn’t budge until she knew what was going on. And certainly not until she’d learned a little about what it was like to grow up on a farm. She wanted to milk cows, plant carrots, and with any luck, kiss Spike into brainyness.
It was just…perfect