“God, how I’ve missed you...” He breathed, and she sighed as his hand slid over her bare shoulder, her jacket hanging haphazardly from her elbow. His lips played against her neck and his breath was cool against her heated skin. It sent shivers up her spine, and she kicked the door shut hard enough to make the jamb groan in protest and someone from down the hall to yell irritably. Buffy let out a giggle.
Oh God, how he’d missed that sound.
Spike ginned against her skin, his teeth grazing her collarbone as his hand traced its way down the curve of her spine. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, turning and shoving her against the wall. Buffy let out a small gasp of surprise as her back met the wall forcibly, an echo of their first time. She breathed in the flavour of him— that same one she remembered— cigarettes, alcohol and something that was purely him as she kissed him again and pushed his duster down his arms. He finished the job, tossing it towards the couch.
Her tongue mingled desperately with his and Buffy groaned against his lips, biting his lip, tugging on it with a smile. His hand moved down to squeeze her ass, and she slid her legs up his sides to hook around his hips. Rewarded with a heady groan from the vampire holding her, she smiled against his mouth again and tangled her fingers in his hair.
“Buffy... are you sure you’re okay? Kennedy offered to take patrol if you want a break.”
The blonde looked up at her best friend, pausing midway through tying the lace of her boot. A little more combat-y and a little less style savvy than what she used to wear, but then again, a lot of her wardrobe had taken that particular turn. Sure, she still owned the cute tops and sexy skirts, but now that she focused so much on the slaying, a lot of it was sitting in the back of the wardrobe. Now it was mostly tank tops and comfortable jeans and yes, combat boots.
Dawn had convinced her to at least stay away from grey. She was wearing a bright red tank, and a black leather jacket. She liked wearing leather. It was a comfort.
“Its fine, Wills. It’s just a quick run of the cemeteries.” She assured her, finishing the lace and straightening. She fixed the redheaded witch with a wan smile. “And there aren’t even as many here as there were in Sunnydale.”
“But you haven’t slept in three days.” Willow argued, her voice coloured with concern.
It was true, Buffy barely slept anymore. A few hours every now and again was all she really ever had, but really, it was all part of the job description. She was getting little more in 2002, between taking care of Dawn, double shifts at the Doublemeat and— Yeah, she wasn’t sleeping much.
“I can function.” Buffy promised, tucking a stake into her sleeve. Willow raised an eyebrow questioningly, her face creased with worry. Buffy sighed, meeting her eyes. “Tell you what; send Kennedy out to do the east side, I’ll cover this one, and I’ll be home by eleven if it’s quiet.”
“And then you’ll sleep?”
Buffy held up three fingers in a scout’s salute. “Eight hours.”
The Slayer let out a small moan as Spike’s fingers slipped under her shirt to caress the small of her back, sending shivers up her spine. She kissed his mouth again, her fingertips against the hollow of his cheeks before she ducked her head to run her tongue over the skin behind his ear. Spike growled low in his throat, tightening his grip on her ass.
“You have no idea what— what it’s been like—“ She panted, kissing his neck and fisting the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I know, pet.” His head fell to her chest, the movement a mix of pain and worship. His voice rang with an echo of anguish, and Buffy tightened her grip on him. Her cheeks burned, and he pressed a tiny kiss to her sternum. Her breath caught slightly. And she smiled at him as he looked up at her again. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Buffy moaned again as his fingers left her ass and slid over her thigh, to cup under her knee, hitching her leg higher. She struggled to lose her jacket, letting it fall to the floor before fisting handfuls of his duster. The supple leather felt familiar in her hands.
Breaking their kiss to rain them over her face, Spike ghosted his lips down her neck, alternating between kissing, licking and biting, before blowing cool air over her damp skin. His teeth found her earlobe, and he teased the sensitive skin there for a moment before moving to her collarbone and biting it playfully.
Buffy leaned into the touch desperately, gasping as his hand slid under her shirt to run fingertips over her stomach. His hand travelled high, tracing the underwire of her bra as she desperately sought out his touch, holding his head against her shoulder as his tongue travelled along her shoulder.
Buffy yawned, not for the first time, quietly letting herself into her apartment. It took her a moment to remember that Dawnie was staying at Willow’s that night, and with Xander off searching for those new Slayers with Giles, Rona and Vi (with the help of Willow’s global locator spell) for the week, she had the apartment to herself.
Her stomach growled, but she was too tired to eat. Instead, she headed for her bedroom. She shed her clothes silently, before slipping on a t-shirt she’d seen in the window of some music shop. It was black, big for her, falling to almost halfway down her thighs, and had ‘The Sex Pistols- Never Mind the Bollocks’ emblazoned on the front in messy, white script. She crawled into bed and hugged herself under the covers, closed her eyes and wished the shirt smelled like something else, rather than clean cotton.
Spike angled his hips as Buffy fought with his shirt, struggling to get it over his head without him raising his arms. He chuckled as she gave up, simply tearing it in half and throwing it away. “That’s my girl...” He hadn’t said those words in a long time... the last time he’d called her that he’d been beaten bloody in an alleyway. Now, she groped at his chest, scraping nails over his stomach, planting open-mouthed kisses over his shoulder. He ground against her, as her fingernails found his nipples, and he groaned, his tongue curling lasciviously behind his teeth.
Buffy felt his growing arousal press against her, and she pushed herself against it, grinding against his pelvic bone. A growl rumbled, low in his throat, and tightened the grip her thighs had on him. Her tank top bunched up between the wall and her back every time she moved down towards him. Irritated, she grabbed at it, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the floor to join the remains of Spike’s shirt.
Spike grinned as she bared herself to him, her chest heaving inside a black lace bra. He reached up and released her hair from its ponytail, watching as it followed his hand and curled over her shoulder. He kissed her again, more sensually this time, running his fingers through that hair for a moment as she watched him with bright eyes.
He moved his hand to her stomach; open palmed, and Buffy gasped at his cool touch, pressing her back against the cold wall. It was a familiar sensation, and she gripped his shoulders, twisting her hips against his groin. He watched her, transfixed, as she moved with him, nails digging into his skin.
“How was school?”
Dawn looked up from the text book in front of her. Buffy stood in the doorway, her shoulders wrapped in a heavy grey shawl and her hands gripping a steaming mug of something. She gave the blonde a small, confused smile.
“Funnily very much alike American school,” She replied, “Except with less swearing. Unless you count the stuff Sp—Giles says.” She caught herself, looking down at her book again before sparing a glance at Buffy. She’d caught her slip up. Dawn opened her mouth to apologize but shut it again. She’d wave her off. She always did.”Still a little annoyed they aren’t serving the tea and scones Willow and Xander promised.”
“You hate tea.”
“It’s the basic principle of the matter.” Dawn shrugged, eyes skimming her book.
Buffy smirked. “I’ll put them on the grocery list.”
Dawn smiled at her again. She spoke again, hesitantly. “You get any sleep last night?”
“A few hours,” Buffy shrugged. I promised Willow I’d let the Junior Slayers take patrol tonight.” Dawn nodded, and they were both silent for a long moment. “Do you want to rent a movie?”
Dawn frowned apologetically. “I have a study session tonight with some of the girls from school. Willow said she’d take me... and drop me back.”
“That’s okay,” Buffy told her quickly, waving a hand.
“I can stay if you—“
Buffy shook her head. “Its fine, Dawnie. I can spend one night alone.”
Buffy pushed forwards, using the weight of her body to send Spike to the floor, landing on top of him. He grunted at the impact, and her mouth was on his before he could adjust to the new position. Her hands danced desperately over his chest, and his hands found her waist. She shivered.
Grinding against him, she kissed her way down his neck and onto his chest, her fingertips tracing over his abs before finding his belt buckle. Same old black jeans... she smiled to herself as her lips found his stomach. She felt him inhale, his muscles tightening as she traced the edge of his jeans with her tongue. She unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of the loops of his jeans, throwing it against the wall. He chuckled again at her eagerness, cutting off as she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling him out into her hands.
He swallowed as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and began to pump leisurely, torturously slow. She kept her eyes on his, kissing his thigh before smiling up at him, scratching at his hips. His hands balled into fists as her mouth travelled over his thighs and stomach, swivelling his hips slightly, raising them off the ground. Buffy giggled, and he let out a strangled sound that sounded close to a whimper as her tongue traced the base of his cock.
“Oh, god... Buffy—“
She smiled, kissing her way up the underside of his shaft before wrapping her lips briefly around the head and sweeping her tongue over it. Spike’s hips bucked slightly, and she squeezed the base of his cock, curling her tongue around the shaft before enveloping him in her mouth again, bobbing her head up and down slowly.
“Christ, pet...” Spike fisted his hand in her hair, entangling his fingers in her golden curls. She hollowed out her cheeks as she raised her head, and he moaned. “Bloody—“
“Bloody stupid idiot!” Dawn stiffened as the voice shouted outside, standing and pulling the window shut quickly. She turned the TV up too, blocking him out. She shot a glance at her sister, who’d frozen on the couch for a moment, before shaking herself and turning her attention back to the book in her lap.
Heading to the adjoining kitchen, she gave a small smile to the redhead sitting at the old Formica table squeezed in between the counters and the wall. The apartment was small, but it came fully furnished with out-dated furniture and it had three rooms, and a fold out couch when Andrew or Xander or one of the newest Slayers needed a place to stay. Giles had offered to put them up, but Buffy had refused.
“You okay, Dawnie?”
She shrugged, leaning against the counter. “Maybe London was a bad idea.” She kept her voice low, aware of Buffy sitting in the other room. “We should have gone with Faith to Cleveland.”
“What d’you mean?” Willow asked, her voice low too.
“People here... they sound like him.”
Willow ducked her head. “She doesn’t have a problem with Giles.”
“Giles is different... a lot of them are, but sometimes... I could almost think it’s him swearing.”
Willow smiled ruefully. “She says she’s fine. I don’t want to push her.”
“It’s been months, Willow.”
“She says she doesn’t miss him.”
“She’s lying. She just doesn’t want to.”
“—Fuck, Slayer.” Spike’s grip tightened on her hair as she swirled her tongue around the head. “Come here.”
She looked up at him, before releasing him from her mouth, still pumping him slowly as she crawled up his body. He kissed her fully, parting her lips and pushing his tongue into her mouth. His teeth grazed her bottom lip and she moaned, her hand still gripping him.
“What?” Spike looked around quickly, but the brunette wasn’t in the room.
“She... can come home soon.” They were lying not ten feet from the front door. And it wasn’t even locked.
Spike nodded. If his heart could beat, it would have been pounding out his chest. The last thing he wanted was to give the nibblet an eyeful.
“Bedroom,” Buffy told him, and she rolled off him. He stood, and pulled her up with him. Their lips were immediately on each other again, and Buffy struggled to lead the way to her room with Spike’s arms wrapped firmly around her waist, one hand dipping down to squeeze her ass.
He shut the door behind them and released her, but his lips never left her mouth. Her hands cupped his cheeks. “Get on the bed.” He told her. His voice was firm, broken up by her lips on his Still, she heard that desperation in his voice, and she obeyed, giving him one last firm squeeze before moving away.
She sat on the edge, spreading her legs as he stood and move between them. There was no pause, no hesitation. It was almost instinct. He stepped between them, his fingers trailing lightly over the bare, tanned skin of her thighs, leaving goose bumps in their wake. She leaned back, putting her weight on her hands, and he bent down, cupping her cheek in his hand and kissing her again.
He kissed his way down her neck to her chest, finding her nipple and lathing his tongue over it. Buffy let her head fall back. It was a strange sensation- they were moving quickly but everything felt like it was in slow motion. Everything was him and the way he was touching her.
He teased her with his teeth and tongue and lips, his other hand pinching her other nipple. She lay back and he followed her, his knee bending on the edge of the bed. His fingers followed the curve of her waist and down over her stomach to tease the soft curls at the apex of her thighs.
Buffy’s breath caught, and she reached down to grasp his cock again, starting to pump as he ran his forefinger over her labia. He dipped between, his fingers finding her clit. She gasped, eyes wide on his as he circled his finger slowly, pressing down. Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him down on top of her. He rolled, and she found herself straddling his stomach. She immediately began grinding herself against his abs, and he watched her with his tongue curled behind his teeth.
Tweaking her nipples and pushing her breasts together slightly, Buffy gave Spike a grin lascivious enough to rival his and moved up his body, swung a leg around until she was straddling his face, hands planted on his stomach. He chuckled at her eagerness, and a shiver rolled up her spine at the vibrations his laughter sent through her. Her fingernails dug into his skin as he ran his tongue along her centre, dipping into her from a moment before curling around her clit.
Buffy’s hips bucked as he did, his fingers teasing her folds and she moved forward, closing her lips around the head of his cock once more. She flattened her tongue against the head before taking as much of him into her mouth as possible. Spike flicked her clit with his tongue, slowing pushing a finger inside of her before adding a second. Buffy hummed her approval around her mouthful, grazing her teeth slightly over his shaft as she raised her head.
Buffy arched her spine, gripping his thighs tightly as a third finger entered her, his pace increasing at the same time as hers. His free hand travelled over her stomach before finding her breast, and he returned attention to her nipples. Buffy’s head fell against his thigh for a moment, and she bit down as he tugged on her clit with his teeth. He groaned, and she bit down harder before lathing her tongue over the marks. She hadn’t broken skin, but the bite was an angry red against his pale skin.
Spike growled, the feel of her teeth making him screw his eyes shut, his demon fighting to the forefront. Buffy felt the shift, the change in his forehead teeth, and she hesitated. She could feel him pull away slightly, his hands gripping her hips. Then she turned decisive, so close to reaching climax.
She felt him jerk in shock. “Buffy—“
“I trust you.”
He hesitated a long moment, and Buffy kissed his thigh again. Her hand hadn’t stopped stroking him. Spike lathed his tongue gently over her thigh, right below where it joined her pelvis. Buffy shivered at the cool sensation, gripping his thighs in anticipation. She felt the points of his fangs scrape lightly over her skin before there was a brief moment of pain as he sunk his teeth into her leg.
She gasped, her stomach tightening as the pain faded and Spike took a slow draw of blood. His fingers found her clit again and her hips bucked as the first wave of her orgasm hit her, and she cried out. Biting into his thigh again to muffle her shout, she felt Spike shudder and he growled into her flesh. Her knees gave out and she fell onto his face, grateful that he didn’t have to breathe.
Spike could feel her shake as she came down, slowly withdrawing his fangs, and licking the wound carefully. His human visage returned as he did, and he kissed his bite marks, warily. Buffy sat up, climbed off him and moved to the head of the bed. Spike rolled to his side and watched her, a wolfish grin breaking through his cautiousness when she crooked a finger at him, one hand ghosting over her lower stomach.
“I’m worried about her, Willow.”
The witch glanced warily at Buffy’s door. It was late; the Slayer had already been on patrol and gone to bed. Dawn had stayed up with her, waiting for Xander and Andrew to get in late. Andrew had been picking up a Slayer in L.A. that Angel was reportedly having trouble with, and Xander had been in Africa for a month. The former had arrived twenty minutes ago, and Xander half an hour before that. They were both staying there for the night.
“She’s not the same anymore.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“She’s not happy, Xander. I mean, sometimes she is, but it’s like before, when you guys brought her back.” Willow ducked her head, and Xander looked at her for confirmation.
She nodded. “She’s different.”
“Maybe she’s just homesick.” Xander said, his tone a mixture of hope and resignation. He knew that wasn’t the case.
“She misses him.” Willow said, and Xander’s face hardened.
“He’s not coming back.”
Andrew fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, letting out a nervous laugh. “That’s right. No way that that amulet could bring him back. That’s like some strange Lord of the Rings fanfiction, and why would they need to bring him back? To be the Han Solo to Angel’s Luke Skywalker and help defeat the evil Empire? That’s just—“ He caught the looks the others were giving him. He sipped on the straw of his drink hastily. “—Silly.”
Dawn stood up. “Andrew, is there something you know that you might want to share with the class?”
He shook his head emphatically. She cocked a brow. Then someone cleared their throat.
Buffy stood in the doorway of her bedroom, wrapped in a fuzzy bathrobe and glaring at Andrew.
“If you have something to say, Andrew, you better say it now. No more secrets.”
Spike crawled up her body, and Buffy watched the muscles of her chest and arms as he moved. They rippled underneath his pale skin, bunching and stretching with each movement. She could see the marks from her nails along his forearms and shoulders, and her cheeks warmed. Then she met his eyes. They were smouldering, dark with desire and his tongue curled behind his teeth as his face neared hers. She bent her knees, spreading her legs to accommodate him, wrapping them around his waist as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Spike’s hand tangled in her hair again and he jerked her head back, lowering his lips to her neck as he rubbed his cock against her clit. Buffy moaned, and she tightened her thighs’ hold on him, gripping his hips and guiding him in. He entered her slowly, his head falling against her curve of her collarbone as he moved. Buffy held her breath, eyes squeezed shut as their hips moved together, each time pulling him further inside until he was buried to the hilt.
She could feel his breath on her neck, curling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his as he began to slowly move his hips. The tiny, outdated bed creaked beneath them, the sound mixing with that of their heavy breathing and moans.
“You’re saying... Spike’s alive?” Dawn looked up. That was the first time Buffy had said his name in months. “You’re telling me he’s been alive all this time and no one bothered to tell me?”
Andrew shrank back in his chair, nodding.
“Great.” Buffy said sarcastically. “Anything else you wanna tell me?”
Andrew began to shake her head, but changed his mind when seeing the expressions on both the Summers girls’ faces. “I have his number.”
“Spi— Oh my... Spike...” Buffy moaned against his shoulder as his pace increased, the sound of flesh hitting flesh growing louder. She squeezed him, her legs slipping over his ass to his thighs and back up with every thrust. Spike groaned as one of her hands reached down to grip his ass, the other scraping over his chest, teasing his nipples. Her teeth found his earlobe, and she ground them against it, before lathing her tongue over the skin behind his ear. She reached up to tangle fingers in his hair, loosening the curls as she kissed him again.
Buffy paced her room nervously, casting her eyes towards the door every few moments. Andrew was calling him now. They knew a big fight had gone down with Angel’s crew and some law firm Giles had told her about... Wolf, Lamb and something. She knew there had been casualties, but Angel hadn’t really been in touch since the big showdown. And now she knew he hadn’t told her the full truth in the first place.
“Buffy?” Andrew’s timid voice broke her out of her musings, and she turned to face him. She had obviously scared him before, because he didn’t really seem to want to be in the room. She looked at him expectantly. “Spike’s okay.”
Buffy nodded, folding her arms over her chest.
“He’s not very happy with me. He said that he was going to ‘kick my bloody ass’ when he gets here and do you think you could maybe stop him from hurting me because—“
“I might still hurt you myself,” Buffy pointed out dryly before she faced him again. “Wait, did you say ‘when he gets here’?”
“Harder...” Buffy pleaded, and Spike doubled his efforts, a growl rumbling in his chest. Buffy pushed her hips up to meet every thrust as he ducked his head to her breasts, and she moaned, arching her back right off the mattress. She could feel the damp sheen of sweat covering her skin, feel the cool of his body over hers, but she was burning, with every sensation he was causing.
Spike balanced his weight on one hand, his other one sliding over the taut flesh of her stomach to pinch her hip. Buffy jerked his head back to hers, one hand teasing her breast as she captured his lips again. Her tongue battled with his, and she grazed his bottom lip with her teeth. Her fingers pinched her nipple and groaned against his mouth.
His lips travelled to her cheek and along her jaw line as he angled his hips upwards as he surged within her. His tongue and teeth played against the skin of her throat, and Buffy shivered at the memory of his fangs buried in her thigh.
Taking hold of a fistful of his hair, she pulled his head to the side, pushing his mouth against the scars left behind by The Master, Dracula and Angel. She felt him hesitate before she felt the pressure of his lips against her skin. He grazed blunt teeth against the marks, tracing them with his tongue and blowing cool air on the damp skin. She shivered.
He was standing in front of her. How was that even possible? He was standing in front of her, exactly the same as he’d been the last time she’d seen him... when he’d burned up in the Hellmouth. Only now, he wore a guilty expression, his hand shoved in his duster pockets.
Buffy’s grip on his hair tightened as his attentions grew stronger, his cock still pumping inside her. “Spike, please...”
Spike pressed one last kiss against her throat before she felt him change, his forehead becoming harsh and grooved against her cheek and his teeth grew into fangs, sinking into her flesh as they did. She gasped, the pain fleeting before changing into bliss.
Buffy’s inner muscles clenched almost painfully, her eyes wide and her mouth open in the silent building of a cry as she felt Spike draw a mouthful of her blood. She dug her nails into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood, her other hand gripping his ass tightly.
Spike growled as he felt her nails pierce his skin, and he swivelled his hips as he thrust back into her warmth. She moaned excitedly, and Spike grinned against her neck, the warm, sticky sweetness of her blood filling his mouth and burning his throat.
“Nineteen days after.”
Buffy’s toes curled as she felt herself near release, her whole body shuddering with sensation. She whispered nonsensical phrases into his ear, her teeth digging into her own lip. The bed frame creaked in protest at their frenzied movement, but Buffy could barely hear it over Spike’s growls and groans, her own gasps and the beating of her heart, thundering in her head as Spike drank from her.
Buffy felt her stomach clench as Spike’s fingers found her clit again, and she screamed as she came. Spike released himself from her neck as the muscles of her inner core tightened around him, and he followed her shout with a roar of his own, the vampire still at the forefront adding a guttural growl to the edge of it.
Spike’s head fell against her shoulder as they came down, his body over hers, and he licked at her wounds gently, the sweet tang of her blood on his tongue as he sealed it. Buffy shoved at his shoulder gently, and he rolled off her to lie on his side, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. She rolled to face him, her head against his chest.
“I love you.”
Her voice was so gentle, Spike wasn’t entirely sure she’d said it. She looked up at him, a blush burning on her cheeks, and his face broke into a genuine smile. “I love you, too.”
“We need to talk... my apartment’s not far.