Buffy moaned, her voice hoarse. She was on her back in Spike’s bed, under him as he relentlessly thrust inside her. She was sweaty and her hair was probably a wreck from the hours they’d spent together. Not that she was worried about her appearance, and Spike probably cared even less. He never complained about what she looked like.
One of his hands had a hold of her wrists, pinning them above her head, while he supported himself with the other. He was kissing her throat, soft, gentle, open-mouthed kisses that were in opposition to how the rest of his body was pounding into her.
It’d be soon, she knew, that she’d get what she’d come for.
As if on cue, Spike’s hips slowed and his strokes became long and measured instead of staccato jabs. Her legs, which had been loose around his middle, tightened as she prepared herself for the inevitable onslaught from him.
With a grunt, he shifted so his lips were right beside her ear.
This was it, this is what she needed more than anything, and he was the only one who could give it to her.
“Buffy…” he gasped. Then paused and seemed to fight with himself. Frustrated, Buffy yanked her arms out of his grasp and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Don’t stop, she silently begged him. Spike groaned. “Christ, Buffy–“ His eyes squeezed shut. “I love you, kitten. I love you so bloody much. I ache with it.”
One of her hands curled into his hair, anchoring him to her. Now that the dam had broken, the words would pour out of him. Spike was good with the dirty talk, but that–even the physical pleasure he gave her–wasn’t the reason she sought him out night after night. She wanted this moment, when he couldn’t contain his feelings for her any longer and they came spilling out of him in a torrent.
“You’re so amazing, brave, fierce. No one is like you….so beautiful…my sun…”
Buffy pressed her face against his shoulder to keep him from seeing how badly she needed his words and how much she enjoyed them. Something akin to happiness blossomed in her chest. It was a warmth she missed.
“I can never get enough of you, Slayer. Never.”
She took a ragged breath. This was the best part.
“I will stay with you forever. No matter what. Forever. I will love you forever. My girl. My gorgeous, wonderful girl. You’re a Valkyrie, an Amazon queen, no one fights like you. No one has gone through what you have and lived to tell of it. I can’t get enough of you. I will never be able to. Not your strength or your indomitable heart…”
No one saw her like Spike did. To him she was never less than magnificent. In his eyes she was a goddess, to everyone else she was the broken Slayer who didn’t smile enough and had a crappy job that didn’t pay enough to even put food on the table.
The only time she felt okay with herself was when he told her how she looked to him. The voice in her mind stilled and for a few precious seconds she was how she once had been: someone worth loving.
But she couldn’t say that, couldn’t let him know how much his words affected her, because then he’d want more than she had to give. There was nothing left inside her to offer someone else.
Not to mention there had to be something wrong with him. She could barely tolerate her own presence, but he almost worshiped her. Obviously, he was blind to how undeserving she really was. Sooner or later he’d come to his senses and ditch her, but it didn’t sound like he would when he was promising forever. When he was saying it, she could believe it too. She could pretend she was special, loved, cherished, and wanted, just like he said
“Love you,” Spike was saying. “Come for me, my love. So beautiful. You’re a dancing, living flame.”
His thrusts were speeding back up, driving her towards her peak, but she needed him to keep talking. Her hands clutched at him. “Spike,” she mumbled.
“Yes, your Spike. Forever yours. Love you, love you, my lioness. No matter what, I will love you forever.” His voice was thick with emotion.
The last ‘forever’ sent her hurtling over the edge into bliss. Her pussy pulsed hard around his shaft as he continued moving, continued to hit that spot deep inside her that turned pleasure to nearly painful ecstasy.
Buffy collapsed against the mattress, panting, her arms falling to her sides as her legs dropped away from his hips to splay open on the bed.
“There you go,” Spike was murmuring. “There you go.”
For half a second she thought about pushing him off her and onto his back so she could finish him off with her mouth, giving him as much pleasure with her lips as he just had with his, but she dismissed the idea almost as soon as it was formed. He wouldn’t want her to, though he’d never say that. He always let her do just what she wanted to with him, but Buffy had learned that he wanted to come in her pussy as many times as he could in a night.
It’d puzzled her at first why he’d beg her to let him come inside her channel when she’d been blowing him, or using her breasts or hands on his cock, but she’d figured it out.
It was the only way he could go with her when she left his crypt.
Tonight had been no exception on his part, every time he’d shot his load, his dick has been deep inside her, filling her until she knew his jizz would be leaking back out until sometime tomorrow. It made it hard for her to pretend she hadn’t been with him when the evidence kept ending up on the crotch of her panties.
She couldn’t give him very much, but she could give him this, and right now one more time wasn’t going to matter. She squeezed her inner muscles.
“Buffy,” he moaned, returning his lips to her throat. “I love you, so much…bloody hell…love…you.” With a harsh cry, he came, churning his hips furiously as his cock jerked in her channel. At last he stilled, then pulled out and laid beside her on the bed.
His arm started to wrap around her, but she pushed him away. She had to go. After the words, her own feelings made it too difficult for her to look at him. They were too messy, big, and complicated. She hurt so much it scared her. Away from him she could shove her emotions back down where they belonged and focus on a million other things, like bills, her sister, or slaying.
Sitting on the side of the bed and ignoring the rush of sticky come, she pulled her jeans and undies up and slid her sweater over her head.
The silence hung heavy in the room. There were no more cries of passion, no slap of body against body, and most certainly no whispered words of love and praise. The walls seemed to close in on her and the silence became unbearable. She fled up the ladder and out into the night without a backward glance.
Crossing her arms over her middle, Buffy trudged towards home. She tried to hang onto the feeling that she was okay, that someone loved her for what she was and saw her as beautiful inside and out, but Spike’s words were already fading, replaced with the dark voice of her own mind that said she was not worth loving. That she’d been better off dead. That she could be again. Damn it.
Trying to tune out her own mind, she focused instead on the icky way Spike’s come was soaking her panties and making them chafe. Stupid vampire. She clenched her jaw. Why did he always have to make her feel so uncomfortable?
It was a cliché, but he lit a fag anyway, the smoke filling his lungs with warmth even as Buffy’s heat faded from his skin and her juices dried on his prick. He hadn’t moved from the bed, where he was lying back and staring up at nothing.
Why the sodding hell did he always have to run off at the mouth? Every single time it made her leave.
He took a drag off his smoke and flicked ash on the carpet.
Next time, tomorrow, he’d be better. Keep his fool trap shut unless it was to tell her something nasty. She didn’t seem to mind him yammering on about what kind of rogering he was going to give her. It was just the feelings she hated.
Spike cursed himself as a weak, silly, sod. Never could stop himself for wearing his heart on his sleeve, no matter how broken it was.
Tomorrow he would be stronger, wouldn’t say anything sweet, not a bloody word.
He snorted. Right. Because if he kept his lips locked she’d stay with him for sodding forever.
He was pathetic.