Title: Valentine’s Day Special

Author: Slaymesoftly

Rating: pwp – NC17

Summary: a sequel to my Valentine’s Day pwp of a few years ago, (God Bless St. Valentine), this one begins immediately after the ending of that one.  I don’t know that it’s necessary to have read the first one, but it would definitely help explain what’s going on here. J We begin with Spike and Buffy cuddling in his bed…

AN:  This fic plays a bit fast and loose with the timeline of events in Season Six, but since the whole thing is a “don’t we wish” fantasy in the first place, I’ll just ask you to forget about anything that doesn’t jibe with canon. Thanks.:)

Nominated at the Forbidden Awards. J

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously, in “God Bless St. Valentine”….

 

“Don’t be daft, Slayer.  Of course I liked it.  I just wouldn’t be able to stand the thought that you’d...Never mind,” he finished as he remembered that he had no right be possessive about any of her body parts.

 

To his surprise, instead of getting angry at him for his possessiveness, she snuggled next to him and whispered, “I would never have been able to be that...open...with anyone else.  You’re the only one I trust that much.”

 

Spike was embarrassed by the lump that immediately rose in his throat and the tears that threatened behind his eyes at her words.

 

“Bloody hell, pet,” was all he was able to choke out without humiliating himself.  He pulled her into a tight embrace and buried his face in her scented hair.  He remained like that, inhaling her scent and struggling to gain control of his emotions.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Spike,” she whispered.

 

The end.

 

 

Valentine’s Day Special

 

Chapter One

 

They rested quietly for several minutes, Buffy indulging in the rare normalcy of an after-sex cuddle, Spike trying to keep himself from waking up from what was obviously a dream.   Assuring herself that she wasn’t really enjoying the way Spike’s hand was absently stroking her arm, or how secure and content she felt sprawled across his body with his arms wrapped around her, Buffy allowed him several more minutes of unusual post-coital closeness before she stirred.  His arms immediately released her, and she cringed at this further proof of how well she had trained him not to expect affection from her during or after sex.

 

Rather than move away as he so clearly expected her to, she walked her fingers down his chest and across his belly, playing with the soft hairs on his lower abdomen.  She didn’t miss the sudden twitch and gradual swelling of his cock that followed her touch.  She giggled softly, asking, “So…did you like your Valentine’s Day present?”

 

“Think that was pretty obvious, pet,” he growled, unconsciously pushing his hips forward in an attempt to get her to move her hand farther down.  Ignoring his silent plea, she continued to tickle and stroke the skin on his stomach, enjoying the way it covered the rippled abs and wondering, not for the first time, how somebody with such a strong, muscular body could have such soft, touchable skin.  She hadn’t realized how much her attention had wandered until he stilled her hand.

 

“Buffy?  Where’d you go, love?”

 

She blushed and pulled her hand back quickly, missing the disappointment that flashed across his face as she did so.

 

“I was just thinking how…touchable your skin is.  I guess I got distracted for a minute. Sorry,” she added, giving him a perky smile.  “Guess that’s not what you wanted, huh?”

 

The vampire was just staring at her with his mouth open, his needy cock temporarily forgotten.  He shook his head in disbelief.

 

“That’s twice this afternoon you’ve left me gobsmacked,” he said.

 

“Gobsmacked?”

 

“Means surprised, pet.”

 

“I know what it means – I just don’t know what I did to—“

 

“You don’t know what you did?”  He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her and she had the grace to blush.

 

“Okay, I guess I do.  Ihave been a little…friendlier…than usual today.  Must be the influence of Cupid, huh?  Valentine’s Day and all that.”

 

“Since when are we valentines, Slayer?” 

 

His voice trembled with the effort to keep it light and casual, but his expressive face gave him away.  Buffy was trapped in his eyes, knowing he would be able to read the lie if she tried to tell one.

 

“I…I don’t know.  I don’t know if we are…but it just seems like…” She shuddered and sat up, turning away from those perceptive eyes.  “I’m sorry, Spike,” she whispered.  “I didn’t mean to make you think…I just wanted to give you a Valentine’s Day gift and I didn’t have time to get a card, so I… I just made things worse, didn’t I?” she finished, hanging her head.

 

“Buffy.”  He put his hand under her chin and brought it up until she could see him.  “You gave me two wonderful gifts today – and neither one of them was that rather spectacular blow job.  You know you did.  Letting me hold you, telling me you trust me – they don’t make cards with messages like that, love.”

 

He watched the anxiety fill her eyes and shook his head. Seeking to reassure her, he quickly added, “I’m not taking it for anything more than it is, Slayer.  You didn’t put any expectations into my head, I promise you.  I’m grateful, yeah, but not delusional.  I jus’ wish you’d let me give you something too.”

 

Sure that they were back on familiar footing, she reached out to stroke his softened cock. 

 

“I think I have time for that,” she said, licking her lips and smiling as he responded to her the way he always did.

 

“You can have that anytime you want, Slayer,” he growled, pushing her down on the bed and running his own hand up her thigh.  “I meant somethin’ special.  Something we don’t usually do.”

 

He prevented her from asking what that could possibly be by fastening his mouth on hers and distracting her from anything except his lips, tongue, and the hand now spreading pleasurable sensations and the accompanying moisture wherever his fingers wandered.  When her hips were pushing into his hand, seeking to establish a rhythm, he rolled on top of her and nudged until she wrapped her legs around him and pulled. Without breaking the kiss, he slid into her in one stroke, swallowing her whimpered gasp with his mouth.

 

He set an easy rhythm, pulling out slowly and pushing back in until he hit the right spot, bringing a gasping yelp from her with every stroke.  Buffy had her arms and legs wrapped around him, pulling him in tighter and tilting her hips up to meet his.  With the comfortable ease that comes from much regular experience, they moved together, each knowing just how and when to vary their movements to please the other.

 

Taking her hands in one of his, he stretched them over her head, and encouraged her to drop her legs.  With his body plastered to hers, he continued to set a steady pace without breaking the contact between them for more than fractions of a second at a time.  As his pubic bone put pressure on her already sensitive clit, he pinned her down with his body and let the tremors that were shaking her bring him to his own release.

 

Without moving away, he tore his lips away from hers and dropped his face onto her neck, sucking the skin over her pulse until he thought he might go mad with the scent of the blood pumping just beneath the tender skin.  Unbidden, his fangs began to elongate, just pricking her flesh before he realized what was happening to him and regained control.  He couldn’t resist swallowing the tiny droplets of blood that had oozed into his mouth from the tightly stretched skin.

 

Either Buffy hadn’t noticed what he’d done, or she considered it part of their normally rough sexual activity, because she raised no complaint, only dropping her arms to hold him in place when he tried to roll off.

 

“Don’t,” she ordered.  “Stay here.”

 

“No place I’d rather be,” he responded quickly, raising his head and shoulders, but leaving their bodies intimately connected.  “Was afraid I was gettin’ too heavy, is all.”

 

Leaning on his elbows, he gazed down at her, marveling at the lack of disgust on her face as she looked back at him, her eyes warm, if inscrutable. 

 

“What did you want to give me?” she asked, still holding his gaze.  “If that wasn’t it,” she added, wriggling her hips and smiling as she felt him swelling inside her.

 

“That wasn’t it,” he growled, “but you’re gonna get that again if you keep it up.”

 

“Oooooh, scary thought.  Help, help! The vampire is going to shag me.”

 

Her giggle and another wriggle brought an answering laugh from him; he shook his head in disbelief.

 

“Are we actually havin’ fun here, Slayer?” he asked, enjoying the way her eyes were dancing.

 

“Well, I am,” she giggled, then flexed her muscles and flipped them over so that she was sitting on him.  “You’ll have to tell me if you aren’t having fun – ‘cause I’ll stop…”

 

            He grabbed her hips with both hands and held her down while he pushed his own hips up to meet her.  He could feel her warm bottom just above his balls and would have sworn he could feel them trying to reach the heated flesh hovering just out of reach.

 

            “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing the frown of concentration on his face.  “Am I hurting you?”

 

            He shook his head rapidly, then admitted, “I want to feel your heat on all of me.  Cock and balls.  I just can’t figure out how to make that happen.”

 

            She wrinkled her brow for a second, then leaned back until she could reach behind her and cradle his balls in her hands.

 

            “How’s this?”  she asked, rolling them around until she could feel the friction-generated heat.  While doing that, she was flexing and relaxing her muscles, squeezing his cock with a ragged rhythm that almost matched the motion of her hands.

 

            Inarticulate sounds were coming from the vampire as all the borrowed blood in his body was drawn to the center of his being.  His hands clenched the sheets as he arched into her, muttered words of praise and need sputtering from his mouth.  The sight of Buffy’s tanned body bent in a bow from where their hips were joined only contributed to the sensations burning through him.

 

            Afraid he would soon explode and leave her to be brought off by his tongue or hand, he pulled her towards his chest, groaning when her hands left his balls bereft, but reveling in the way she melted into him.  Her mouth was now sucking on the skin of his throat in a way that would have done credit to a vampire, her greedy murmurs of need were muffled in his neck as she almost growled her desire to get closer to him.

 

            Spike wrapped his legs around hers, pinning her to his churning hips.  His arms were wound around her slender back, holding her to his chest as he continued to pump.  Once again, their bodies were moving in unison, taking and giving pleasure in equal measure as they worked their way towards a mutually rewarding release of tension.   Spike’s shout of “Buffy!” as he exploded into her depths was matched by her keening cry that continued for as long as the waves of sensation rode her body. 

 

            Almost unconscious from the strain, they remained collapsed together, the vampire’s gasps for unneeded air matching the slayer’s much more necessary gulps of oxygen.  For long minutes, their panting breaths were all that could be heard in large underground room.  Eventually, Buffy was sufficiently recovered to roll slowly to the side, whimpering as his cock slid out.  Spike’s matching gasp and suddenly tightened arms indicated his own unwillingness to separate.

 

            “That was, without a doubt, the best sex of my entire life,” Buffy gasped, still struggling for normal breathing.

 

            “Right back atcha, Slayer,” he agreed with a smile that was too sated to be called a smirk.  “I could dust right now and be perfectly happy.”

 

            “You could?”  Buffy raised her head to stare at him in disbelief, then dropped it as the sudden motion made her dizzy.  “But then we wouldn’t be able to do it again,” she complained.  “And that would suck.”

 

            “It would, indeed, love. It truly would.”

 

His chuckle shook his chest; the chest upon which she had decided would be a good place to rest her still spinning head.  She stuck her tongue out and licked their combined sweat off the nipple that was in front of her face.  Said nipple immediately hardened to a small peak, which caused her to continue to tease it with her tongue and lips, before licking her way across to do the same to the other nipple.

 

            “You’re kiddin’, right?”  Spike’s disbelieving squeak caused her own body to shake with silent laughter.

 

            “Actually, I sort of am,” she admitted.  “I wasn’t really trying to start anything; I was just tasting you – us.”

 

            “Taste good together, don’t we?”

 

            “We do,” she agreed in a much softer voice.  “I…I like us.”

 

            “Well, that works out nicely, then,” he rumbled, tipping his chin down so as to drop a kiss on the top of her head.  “Because I bloody love us.”

 

            An uncomfortable silence followed the vampire’s use of the forbidden “L” word.  Deciding he’d ruined the mood anyway, Spike dropped his arms and gently moved Buffy’s head off his chest.  He rolled her to the side and turned himself to face her confused eyes.

 

            “Not pushing you away, pet,” he said quietly, “jus’ need to be looking at you.”

 

            She nodded uncertainly, unwilling to say how much she objected to being deprived of his warm embrace, but equally unwilling to give it up until she was ready.  He gazed into her eyes and smiled sadly, lifting one hand to run his knuckles along her flushed cheek.

 

            “There’s no sense in getting’ your knickers in a twist every time I use that word,” he began hesitantly. “Telling me I can’t say it doesn’t make it less true, Buffy.  It was true last year – long before I tried to tell you how I felt – and it’s even more true now.  I’m not gonna take a chance on driving you away by forcing you to hear it when you don’t want to, but I’m not going to pretend it isn’t true, either.  And sometimes, when something…when you…when we…” When we make love like that.  “Bollocks!”

 

            He growled and threw himself backwards so that he was lying flat and staring at the ceiling.  Buffy inched closer and stretched one arm across his chest.  Automatically, his hand came up to caress her arm; he turned his head and smiled ruefully.

 

            “Sound like a bloody ponce, don’t I?”

 

            “Well, probably. If I knew what a ‘ponce’ was, anyway.”  She moved closer and nuzzled the hickey she’d raised on his neck.  “I marked you,” she said, changing the subject.

 

            “Did you now?” He sounded inordinately pleased, which made her smile.

 

            “I did. Gave you a big old hickey.  Everybody will know what you’ve been doing.”

 

            “Jus’ so they don’t know who I’ve been doing it with, eh, pet?”

 

            Buffy sighed and rolled away, joining him in staring at the dirt ceiling.

 

            “I’m sorry, love,” he said quickly.  “I didn’t mean that to sound like I was complaining.  My mouth outran my brain again, is all.”

 

            “It’s okay,” she said, turning her head so that she could meet his anxious stare.  “You have every right to complain. I know that, Spike.  I’m not oblivious to how hard this is for you.  Sometimes…sometimes it’s hard for me, too.”

 

            “Gobsmacking me again, here, pet.  Wanna explain that?”

 

            “Not really.” She grimaced, annoyed at having blurted out something better kept to herself.

 

            “Buffy?” 

 

She could have dealt with angry demands, with his snarky insistence that she stop hiding from her feelings.  She could have even dealt with tears – although he never let her see those, she knew that she sometimes caused them.  But she couldn’t handle the plea in her whispered name.  She sighed and prepared to reveal things she’d never wanted him to know.

 

            “Sometimes, when we’re in the Magic Shop, or the Bronze, or somewhere like that, I want to touch you.  Not like that!” she said, catching the beginning of a leer and smacking him on the chest.  “I mean, I just want to…to be sitting near you, you know?  To be able to touch your hand if – when – somebody says something nasty to you.  When I’m tired, I want to be able to lean on you the way Anya leans on Xander.”

 

            “But you can’t,” he said dully.

 

            “But I can’t,” she agreed, her voice as flat and uninflected as his.

 

            Spike wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip her throat out for telling him what he was missing, or rip out the throats of all the Scoobies whose opinion was so important to her that she wouldn’t allow herself the smallest physical comfort in front of them.

 

            As though reading his mind, she said quietly, “It’s not all their fault, you know.  It’s me, too.  I don’t feel like I should want those things from you. It’s wrong and too couply.”

 

            She could see his jaw twitch as he tried not to let her know how angry he was.  She could almost hear his teeth grinding, and she closed her eyes, knowing the special afternoon was over.  With a sigh, she sat up and looked around for her clothes, finding them lying on the chair where she had neatly folded and placed them while waiting for Spike to get home.  She didn’t even bother looking for her underwear.

 

 They’re probably ripped anyway.

 

            She was moving to the edge of the bed to get dressed when Spike’s hand on her arm stopped her. She took a few seconds to allow him to change his mind, but when he only tightened his grip, she turned to face him.

 

            “What if we could find a place where no one knows us?  Where we could just be a man and a woman having a nice dinner? With no worries about accidental touches causing ranting and raving?”

 

            Is there such a place?”  Buffy tried to keep the hope from her voice, but the perceptive vampire heard it.

 

            “If I say ‘yes’, will you let me take you there?  Tonight?  Just for an early dinner,” he hastened to explain.  “You can still meet the Scoobies at Sunnydale’s answer to the Copa Cabana, but we could have ourselves a nice, quiet Valentine’s Day evening out first.”

 

            Buffy stared at him, plainly seeing the hope and fear that he was trying to hide behind a calm, neutral demeanor.  While she wondered what she was going to say, her mind was already working out details – what to wear, where to tell Dawn she was going and how to get Willow to take Dawn with her to the Bronze.  His face was already dropping into an expression of sad resignation when she finally answered him.

 

            “Okay,” she said.  “What time will you pick me up?”

 

            A slow smile spread across the vampire’s face and his eyes lit up.

 

            “How about 6:00?  Gives us time for a nice meal and still gets you to the Bronze before they send out a search party.”

 

            “’K.  I’ll see you then.”

 

 Acting on impulse, she leaned in and kissed him before leaping off the bed and into her clothes.  Without another word, or a backward glance, she ran up the ladder and out of the crypt into the warm sunlight.  She never saw the awestruck vampire holding two fingers against the mouth she had just, for the first time since she’d begun coming to him, kissed ‘good-bye’.

 

“See you,” he echoed to the empty room; then ran to his makeshift shower to get cleaned up and ready for what he was going to call a “date”.

 

 And sod whatever euphemism the Slayer might want to use for it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

When Buffy had arranged for Dawn to go with Willow, explaining that she first needed to check out a vamp nest on the edge of town, and that Spike would be picking her up at six in case she needed back-up, she blithely went to her room to shower and get dressed.

 

She gazed longingly at a long-sleeved red dress that she’d bought on sale when replenishing her post-resurrection wardrobe, then sighed and pushed it aside as being wildly inappropriate for what was supposed to be a dangerous patrol.  Instead, she pulled out a pair of dressy black pants and paired them with a red silk blouse, which she hid under a sweatshirt.   She decided that her new boots, while not technically slaying gear, weren’t so different from her regular boots that she couldn’t get away with wearing them.

 

As soon as she was dressed, she sat at her dressing table and began to brush her hair and apply make-up.  Sensing a presence, she turned to find Dawn leaning against the doorjamb and staring at her.

 

“Pretty nice clothes for taking out a vamp nest, aren’t they?” her sister asked, staring pointedly at the high-heeled boots.  “And are you afraid you’ll scare them if you aren’t wearing enough makeup?”

 

Buffy stared at herself in the mirror for a second, trying very hard not to look like she’d been caught in the cookie jar, then she straightened and turned to face the smirking teenager.

 

“I’m coming to the Bronze after…after we dust all the vamps…so I need to be---”

 

Dawn had stopped listening to her, just shaking her head and turning away.   “You must think I’m really stupid,” came drifting back from the hall as the girl went down the stairs to join Willow in the kitchen.

 

“I think you’re a pain in the ass,” Buffy grumbled quietly as she finished applying lip gloss and sat back to examine the results of her efforts.  She was generally pleased with what she’d been able to do.

 

I look pretty and ready for a nice dinner, without looking too much like I’m going out on a date.  And I’m wearing slay-worthy clothes—mostly -- so no problem there.  And bonus, if Spike shows up on his motorcycle, I’m wearing pants.

 

She gave herself a self-satisfied smirk and stood up.  At the last second, she grabbed a couple of stakes and tucked them into her waistband as proof that she had slaying plans for the evening.  When she heard Spike’s bike roar up outside, she grabbed a sword out of the weapons chest and waved it through the kitchen door.

 

“We’re off to slay!” she shouted.  “See you guys later at the Bronze.”

 

“Bye, Buffy. Be careful.”

 

“Yeah, right!”  The last comment came from Dawn’s fortunately very full mouth.  Buffy hoped that Willow would ignore it and not ask Dawn what she meant.

 

Spike was just raising his hand to knock on the front door when Buffy yanked it open, sword still in hand.

 

“Whoa, Slayer! If you changed your mind, just say so. No need to get violent about it.”

 

“What?  Oh, this?”  She lowered the sword with an embarrassed laugh.  She saw Spike look over her shoulder and smile, so she quickly said, “It’s in case we need more weapons.  You know, when we take out that vamp nest you found…”

 

A snort of disbelief came from behind them and when Buffy whirled to glare at her sister, Spike took advantage of her turned back to shake his head “no”.  Rolling her eyes, but taking a hint from the vampire, Dawn shrugged and said, “Well, just don’t come into the Bronze all covered in vamp dust.  It will spoil the mood.”

 

“There’s going to be a mood?”

 

“Well, it is Valentine’s Day, you know.  I think Willow has convinced Tara to come, and I have friends meeting me there, so it’s going to be, like, romantic and…and…non-dusty.”

 

“That was totally lame, Dawn.”

 

“Not as lame as dressing like that to slay vampires,” the girl muttered as she went upstairs to change.  Her sister couldn’t quite make out what she said, but Spike’s vampire hearing had him grinning at her retreating back.

 

Willow chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen.

 

“Hi, Spike. Wow, you look nice tonight! I thought you were helping Buffy?”

 

“I, uh…I am helping the Slayer.  But I have…plans…for later in the evening.  Evil plans,” he hastened to add.

 

“Evil plans that you have to dress up for?” Willow ran her eyes over his unusual clothing and frowned.

 

For the first time since she’d opened the door, Buffy took a good look at the vampire and noticed that beneath his trademark duster he was wearing a pair of dark twill pants and a blue dress shirt that matched his eyes. 

 

Willow studied both embarrassed faces for a long minute, during which Buffy did her best not to wear an expression that said “Busted!”  Finally, she gave a shrug and with a small smile said, “Well, between the two of you, you’ll be the best-dressed fighters of evil around.  Have fun and don’t mess up your good clothes.”

 

They remained frozen in the doorway until the snickering red-haired witch had disappeared up the stairs, then turned to look at each other.

 

“Do you think…?”

 

“Nah. ‘course not.  She’s just…” He gave up.  “Think maybe we aren’t quite the secret you think we are, pet.”

 

“Kinda looks like, huh?”

 

He studied her carefully for any sign of pending anger and was surprised to read only relief on her face.

 

“You alright with this?”

 

She shrugged and stepped out onto the porch with him, tossing the sword back into the house as she did so.  She closed the door behind her and followed him to the bike.

 

“I’m not sure just yet what ‘this’ is, but nobody was freaking out, so, yeah…I guess I am.”

 

Deciding not to push his luck, he just nodded and handed her a helmet.  He swung one leg gracefully over the bike and moved forward far enough for her to get one behind him.  Buffy donned the helmet and quickly perched herself behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and waiting for the rumbling engine to carry her away for her first date with the vampire who loved her.

 

Neither of them noticed the two sets of eyes peering out from an upstairs window.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Spike expertly piloted the motorcycle through downtown Sunnydale, past the demon section and to the parking lot of a large building on the outskirts of town.  He parked the bike and waited for Buffy to dismount before joining her on the pavement.  When he had fastened her helmet securely to the handlebars and stashed her sweatshirt in a saddlebag, he offered his arm and they walked towards the door of the restaurant.

 

Buffy was acutely aware of the eyes following them, but she soon realized that they were almost all admiring glances, not the condemnation that she was expecting.  Here and there, she recognized a harmless, almost human-looking demon and began to realize that there was more going on in her little city than she’d had any idea.

 

They were seated quickly by a solicitous maitre d’ who clearly knew Spike from previous visits.  In no time, there was a glass of Jack Daniels Black Label sitting at Spike’s elbow, and a glass of chardonnay at Buffy’s.

 

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve been here before?” she asked, trying not to sound annoyed about it.

 

“Because I have, pet.  Used to come here quite a bit.  Not so much, lately, though,” he said with a meaningful glance.

 

“Meaning you used to bring other women here?” 

 

“Meaning I lost any interest in spending time with other women once I had you to fill my nights.”

 

“Oh.”  Her desire to stomp out in a fit of jealousy was diluted by the obvious sincerity on his face.  “But you did bring other women here.  Before.”

 

“Wasn’t born lovin’ you, Slayer,” he said mildly.  “Even if it does seem that way sometimes.”

 

Her tense shoulders relaxed and she gave him a rueful smile.

 

“I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?  You’ve brought me to a nice place for dinner, bought me a glass of wine and I’m giving you a hard time because you might have had another date or two in the past 150 years.”

 

“’S alright, love.  Does my unbeating heart good to watch you get all jealous and possessive.  Makes me feel appreciated, it does.”

 

With that out of the way, they relaxed and enjoyed their rest of the meal, including the house special Valentine’s Day dessert – a cake filled with chocolate sauce and strawberries, topped with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. 

 

Buffy was laughing at how full she was, even taking the stakes from her waist and putting them in her purse.  At Spike’s raised eyebrow, she said, “What?  I needed the room for more cake.”

 

“Hold on a sec, love,” he said in a low growl, taking her chin in his hand and leaning toward her.  His tongue snaked out and licked a dollop of whipped cream off her upper lip, swiping around her entire mouth before flicking back into his.  “You had something on your lip,” he said huskily.  “Wanted to fix it for you.”

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, still leaning in his direction.  Her eyes darkened at the raw desire on his face.

 

“Can think of other places to put that whipping cream and chocolate,” he said, slowly sliding his hand up her arm. “Do you think they’ll let us take some out with us?”

 

Buffy’s pulse had shot up along with her body temperature, but she sat up straight and tried to look stern.

 

“I don’t do things like that on the first date!” she said as indignantly as was possible with a vampire’s heated looks making her squirm in her chair.

 

“My apologies,” he laughed.  “Wouldn’t want to imply that you were a loose woman, love. “ He leered at her suggestively.  “Although my nose tells me that some parts of you think it was a really good idea.  Just think about it, a little whipped cream here, a little chocolate sauce there…My tongue cleaning you off until you were all pink and shiny…”

 

His eyes glazed over and Buffy laughed in her turn when he began to squirm in his chair. 

 

“Problem?” she asked innocently.  “Is there something I can do?”  She ran her tongue around her lips, licking them thoroughly before sucking it back into her mouth.

 

“Let’s finish this up, pet.  It’s gonna be hard enough walking out of here as it is. If you keep that up…”

 

“If I keep that up, what? It’ll get even harder?”  She giggled at her own joke, then stopped and stared at him with dawning astonishment.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just realized that I was having a good time. I completely forgot about…about everything…for a while.  And without you having to touch me at all.  You can make me happy even without…you know.”

 

“This doesn’t mean you want to give up on the ‘you know’, does it?”

 

His eyes were wide and frightened, sending her into more giggles that had the nearby patrons staring at them and smiling indulgently.  She leaned forward and cupped his chin with her hand.

 

“No,” she said softly.  “I don’t want to give it up.  It’s just nice to know that I can feel something – something good – without it.”

 

His relief was palpable, making her giggle again.  Spike signaled for check with his free hand, his other one was holding Buffy’s hand to his face so that he could plant light kisses on her palm.

 

“I haven’t seen you this relaxed since…since I don’t know when.  It looks good on you, love.”

 

“It feels good,” she admitted.  “I don’t know when I last felt this good, either.  Maybe when you were chained in Giles’ bathtub...”

 

“Very funny, Slayer,” he growled, standing up and pulling out her chair.  “Nice to know I could make you happy, even when I wasn’t tryin’.”

 

Spike signed the check presented to him and handed it back with a smile.  “Tell the chef the Valentine’s Day special was a big hit,” he said to the waitress.   “And don’t let them cheat you out of your tip, luv.”

 

As they walked out the door, Buffy asked curiously, “Why didn’t you pay anybody?  Did you win that meal at poker?”

 

“No, Slayer, I didn’t win it at poker.  I paid for it ahead of time.  You can do that with the Valentine’s Day Special; so that if it has the desired effect, the couple can just slip out the door and on to the rest of the evening’s activities without any delays.”

 

They reached the bike and Spike leaned against the car next to it, pulling Buffy in between his widespread legs.  She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest and sliding her hands around his back.  She could feel him inhaling the scent of her hair, and the light kisses he was dropping on her head.  His chest was vibrating under her cheek.

 

“You’re purring,” she said into his shirt.  “Does that mean you’re happy?”

 

“I am,” he said simply.

 

“Me too,” she whispered, still hiding her face from him, but tightening her arms just enough to prove her sincerity.

 

Had the owner of the car upon which Spike was leaning not come out and wanted to drive it away, Spike was sure that he could have happily remained there for the rest of the night.  As it was, he had to flash some fang at the other man, who quickly changed his mind about “teaching you a lesson, punk” as soon as he realized what sort of monster he had just challenged.  The man jumped into his car, locked all the doors and peeled out of the parking lot with many anxious glances over his shoulder.

 

Buffy was laughing and hitting Spike at the same time.

 

“You jerk!” she said, stifling her giggles.  “You couldn’t just say, ‘we’re sorry’ and move away?  We were leaning on his car, you know.”

 

“I was enjoying a moment with my girl,” Spike growled, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to be pinned against his chest.  He dropped his head and nuzzled the tiny spots where he’d drawn blood earlier.  “Bloody wanker interrupted one of the best times of my life. He’s lucky I didn’t eat him and throw away the bones!”

 

“It was nice, wasn’t it?” she agreed, relaxing against him and tilting her head to give him better access to her neck.  “It was all normal and couply feeling.”

 

“Thought you didn’t want to feel all ‘couply’ with me?”

 

“I’m re-thinking that idea,” she said, humming in pleasure as he began sucking on her neck.  “I’m having such a good time tonight….”

 

“Could do it again sometime, if you like.”

 

“I like,” she said, closing her eyes and falling into the sensual tingles his sucking was creating.   His arms tightened as he fought his demon’s urge to re-open the tiny wounds.  With a final growl – aimed at himself rather than her – he removed his mouth and released her.  Buffy turned to look at him, disappointment just visible in her curious eyes.

 

“Sorry, pet,” he said, trying for light and casual.  “That’s a little hard on the demon and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

 

“The demon wanted to hurt me?”  Her eyes narrowed; sorrow and a growing anger replacing the disappointment.  She yanked the arm he was still touching away from him. A quick motion of her hand prevented his aborted attempt to touch her again.

 

He shook his head, stumbling over his words in his eagerness to explain. “No…he…it…I…That’s not the way it is, Slayer.  I…we don’t want to hurt you, we want…”  He whirled away from her and threw his arms up in the air.  “I’m a bloody vampire, Buffy!  We bite the people we…love.  The demon wants to claim you.  Make you mine.  Know you don’t want that, don’t I?  That’s what I meant by ‘hurt you’.  ‘s got nothing to do with feeding or fighting.  It’s all about wanting to mark you as mine.”

 

They glared at each other for a few seconds, then Buffy’s tense, defensive posture relaxed and she raised a tentative hand to his neck.

 

“Like I marked you, you mean?”  She ran her fingers lightly over the now barely-visible hickey she’d given him.

 

“Somethin’ like that.  But a bit more permanent.”  He put his own hand over hers and pressed it against his throat.  “That’s all I meant, love. I swear.”

 

“I believe you.” She moved closer to him and looked up into his anxious eyes.  “You bit me before, didn’t you?  When we were…making love?”

 

If Spike’s heart had been capable of it, it would have leapt in his chest to hear her refer to their afternoon’s activities as “making love.”  He nodded, watching carefully for any sign of anger on her part.  However, she just nodded also.

 

“I thought you did,” she said simply.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Why?”  She gazed at him with genuine puzzlement.  “I know you love me.  If the demon loves me too, it makes sense he would try to do something about it.  I’m not upset about it.”

 

“You do know that the demon and I are the same person, don’t you, Slayer?”

 

 His eyes challenged her to reject Angel’s lessons about how his demon was something separate and apart from his normal self.  Refusing to get into an argument about it, she just shrugged and pulled her sweatshirt from the bag.  She unhooked her helmet and put it on head, looking at him expectantly.

 

“Right, then.  Off to celebrate the holiday by watchin’ demon girl groping Harris, and the witches groping each other, and…”

 

“If you’re about to add Dawn to that gropage, you can just stop right there!”

 

His eyes flashed.  “I’d better not find any wanker trying to grope the Bit. It’ll be the last time he uses that hand!”

 

Buffy laughed at his abrupt change in mood.  “Let’s go, Big Bad. Time to go see that the only groping is among consenting adults.”

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

It took very little time for them to reach the Bronze, although finding a safe place to leave the bike was a little trickier, the parking lot being crowded with the vehicles of celebrating lovers. As was the club, full of warm, young bodies hopeful of connecting with other warm young bodies before the lovers’ holiday was over.

 

Spike hesitated as they entered the club, gesturing towards the bar.

 

“Probably shouldn’t look like we arrived together, Slayer.  I’ll just go get-”

 

“No,” she said, brushing her hand over his briefly.  “Everybody knows we went patrolling together. They won’t be surprised to see us arrive at the same time.  It’ll be okay.”

 

It wasn’t until they got to the table, to be greeted by questions about the “vamp nest” they’d gone to check out, that they realized they hadn’t come up with anything to explain where they’d been.

 

“I...we…they…” Buffy was wearing her ‘I’m on the highway and there’s a semi bearing down on me’ expression, causing Dawn to snicker.  When the vampire frowned at her, she hid her laughter behind a cough; then got up from the table.

 

“Here, one of you can sit here.  I’ll be over there with the cool kids,” she said, waving her hand in the general direction of a laughing group of teenagers.

 

“I, we, they; good explanations, every one of them.  Except for the whole, actual, explanation part,” Xander said, still watching Buffy expectantly.

 

“They’d scarpered off,” Spike said quickly. 

 

“Yep, yep. They were already gone. Totally a false alarm.” Buffy smiled with relief and pulled her chair out.

 

“Oh. Where’ve you been then?”  Anya’s question was accompanied by a narrow-eyed perusal of their appearance.  “You don’t look like you’ve been having sex, so where were you?”

 

“Ahn!”  Xander choked. “Of course they haven’t been…doing that!  What’s wrong with you?”

 

“What’s wrong with you?  It’s Valentine’s Day, they’re dressed up and they’ve been gone for hours.  It seems logical to me.”

 

“On our way back from the not-a-vamp-nest, we stopped to have something to eat,” Buffy said.  She leaned back casually, twirling a stake in her fingers until she realized what she was doing and put it away with an embarrassed shrug.

 

“That’s right,” Spike chimed in quickly.  “Stopped to eat at a place I know.  But she’s back now. All safe and sound.”

 

“So,” Willow said with wide-eyed innocence that fooled neither of the two nervous blonds.  “I guess you’ll be on your way now, Spike?  You know, to pursue those ‘plans’ you have for the evening?”

 

Spike’s hand was resting on the back of Buffy’s chair, his knuckles just barely touching her back.  He gave her a quick touch and then said with quiet resignation, “Yeah. Too bloody right.  Got better things to do than hang out with you lot.  See you later, Slayer.  Sorry we didn’t get to kill anything tonight.”

 

“I’m thinking seriously about killing something…” Buffy muttered, glaring at her best friend.  Tara gave them a sympathetic smile while Willow giggled. 

 

When they realized that Spike was actually going to leave, Tara nudged Willow, who quickly apologized.

 

“I’m sorry, Spike. I’m just giving you a hard time.  It’s not like you dress up on a regular basis.  Don’t leave.  If you do, Buffy won’t have anybody to sit with.”

 

Xander’s eyes flew back and forth between the two smiling witches, the uncommonly quiet vampire, the embarrassed Slayer, and his eye-rolling girlfriend.

 

“Am I missing something here?”

 

“Oh, for god’s sake, Xander.  Spike and Buffy have obviously been on a date and Willow is teasing them about it.”

 

Anya’s impatient remark brought a sudden silence to the table as all eyes turned to the dark-haired boy now studying Buffy and Spike more closely.  He took in their nice clothes, panicked expressions and the way the vampire was hovering protectively over the slayer.  He shook his head in disgust, but said nothing except, “Then I guess the evil undead ought to sit down  - after he gets drinks for all of us,” he added quickly, lifting his empty beer mug.

 

With a slow smile, Spike nodded.  “Anyone else?  What do you want, Slayer?”  Buffy asked for more white wine and the witches said they were fine.  As Spike began to work his way toward the bar, Buffy smiled uncertainly at Xander.

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

“For what?” He shrugged and tried to appear confused.

 

“For not making a big deal out of it.”  For not making me feel like I’ve let everybody down.

 

Xander gazed around the table and then said with a sigh, “Buffy, I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that if the peroxided menace is the reason you’ve started smiling again and started acting like you don’t hate it that we…that you…” He stopped and started again.  “If he’s making you happy, then we’re happy.  Not ecstatic, mind you,” he hastened to add, “but happy, for you.  We’re happy that you’re happy.  Are you happy?”

 

Smiling at his babbling, Buffy nodded.  “I think I am.  I’m not really sure, it’s been such a long time since I …but I think that’s what I’m feeling. I’m pretty sure it is.”

 

Spike arrived back with their drinks and set Xander’s beer down in front of him, managing to slosh it just enough to spill foam on the table.  He gave his best imitation of someone pretending to be sorry and smirked his, “Oops!”

 

“There will be no ‘oopsing’ with my beer, Deadboy, Jr,” Xander growled, grabbing his mug and moving it out of the small puddle.  “Don’t make me sorry I told Buffy she could have you if she wanted you.”

 

“Didn’t know she needed your permission,” Spike bristled, calming when Buffy said quietly, “Spike…”

 

“Sorry, love.”  He immediately took his attention off Xander and focused on the petite blonde now glaring at him.  He followed her glare to the chair next to her and sat down quickly, bringing his own beer to his mouth and ignoring the whispered discussion across the table where Xander was complaining to Anya that there was “no point in being nice to the undead”.

 

Anya dragged Xander off to the dance floor, quickly followed by Willow and Tara.  Left alone, Buffy and Spike found themselves at a loss for conversation until he finally asked, “What did he mean, you could have me if you want me?”

 

“He means they’ve all noticed that I’ve been…happier…lately, and since they all feel guilty about bringing me back, they don’t care who or what is making me happy as long as it continues.”

 

“An’ they know it’s me?” His eyes narrowed supiciously.  “It is me, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, Mr. fisher-for-compliments, it’s you.  Who else would it be?” She huffed in exasperation, bringing a relieved smile to his face.

 

“Jus’ checking, love.”  He leaned in and nuzzled the side of her neck, pushing her hair out of the way with his nose and running his tongue over the tiny bite marks there.  She giggled and squirmed, then stood up, holding out her hand imperiously.

 

“Dance with me.”

 

“Dance?!”  The horror on the vampire’s face caused another giggle.

 

“Don’t pretend with me.  Dawn ratted you out a long time ago. I know you taught her to dance last summer so that she wouldn’t be embarrassed at school dances; so you can just get up off your British ass and dance with me.”

 

Without waiting to see what he was going to do, she flounced to the floor and began to move with the music.  With a put-upon sigh that was as fake as his hair color, Spike dropped his coat on the back of the chair and joined her.  Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her hips and began to move with her in time to the music, letting her firm butt bump into him with every step.  He was soon wishing he’d kept the coat on as the front of his pants began to bulge.

 

Buffy began rubbing against him, laughing at his growled threats to tear her clothes off right there if she didn’t get her “delectable arse away from my sensitive parts”. The song soon switched to a much slower tempo, and he turned her around to settle against his chest.  Buffy put her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder, relaxing into him as he moved them around the floor in graceful arcs. 

 

“Knew you could dance,” she murmured as he managed to avoid all the couples groping each other on the dance floor while still holding her tightly against his body.  “Did you learn that when you were human?”

 

He laughed softly.  “When I was human, dancin’ was done at arm’s length, pet. Would have scandalized society to see couples hanging on each other like everybody in this place.”

 

“There was society to scandalize? Why do I get the feeling there’s stuff I need to know about you that you’ve never told me?”

 

“There’s nothing you need to know, love. I was a weak, worthless git who wouldn’t have known what to do with a woman like you.  Would have fallen in love and made a prat of myself, no doubt about it; but you wouldn’t have given me the time of day…and rightfully so.”

 

“You don’t know that! Maybe I would have liked William. He was probably very sweet.”

 

Spike put his mouth down to her throat and growled softly while pulling on her skin with his blunt human teeth.   He waited until her heart rate sped up and she growled back at him, then, with a final kiss on the damp skin, he raised his head and whispered, “He was very sweet, pet. But you like a little monster in your man. It’s the slayer in you.”

 

“Sheesh,” she muttered, “fall in love with a couple of vampires, and suddenly you’re a dem—“

 

She stumbled as Spike stopped moving, frozen in place; he pushed her to arm’s length so as to stare at her.  She frowned at him and glanced around the club quickly, scanning for trouble.

 

“What? What’s wrong?”

 

“What did you just say?”

 

“Wha?  I…nothing…I just said…” Buffy’s eyes widened as her words came back to her and she understood the suddenly intent look on the vampire’s face.  “Oh, shit,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

 

“Gonna take it back now, are you?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on hers, refusing to allow her to look away.  “Tell me it was a slip of the tongue?”

 

“It WAS a slip of the tongue,” she insisted.  “I was just…” 

 

She watched in fascination as his face settled into lines of cold resignation and he dropped her gaze.  Without saying anything else, he began to move her around the floor again, holding her firmly but much less intimately than before. With an exasperated huff, she stopped them again, and then, when he wouldn’t meet her eyes, kicked him in the shins.

 

“Look at me!” she ordered, stubbornly refusing to move until he gave her a flat stare.  She stared back, searching behind a killer’s icy blue eyes for the warm, caring man that she knew was in there. 

 

“It was a slip of the tongue because I didn’t even know it myself until it popped out of my mouth.  Not because it isn’t true.  Because I just realized it, and I would have liked to have some time to…to process it before I told you. That’s all.”

 

She glared at him, only relaxing her lethal stare when his face softened into the expression of annoyed affection that she knew so well.

 

“Oh,” he said in a failed attempt to appear only mildly interested, “well, that’s alright, then.”

 

He pulled her in and, with his face buried in her hair, began to sway to the music.   This time, he made no attempt to pretend they were dancing, just held her against his body with a grip that she wasn’t sure even she would have been able to break.  Not that she particularly wanted to.

 

“So,” she whispered, going up on her toes to put her mouth against his neck, “it’s just ‘alright’?”

 

She felt his chest shake as a chuckle rumbled up. 

 

“It’s a bit more than ‘alright’, sweetheart.  You know that. I’m just…” He shrugged and pulled her even tighter.

 

“Gobsmacked?” she suggested.

 

“As good a word as any,” he laughed, abruptly dipping her almost to the floor and then twirling her around in small circles while she laughed with delight. 

 

When the song ended, they stayed on the floor, their gazes locked and their eyes darkening.  The big room was suddenly too crowded; they simultaneous moved back to the table, pausing only long enough for Spike to grab his coat and Buffy her sweatshirt.

 

Not waiting for anyone else to make their way back to the table, Buffy waved at Willow and, grabbing Spike’s hand, began working her way towards the door.  With Spike’s chip going off every time he tried to push someone out of the way, the petite slayer was soon leading the way, her “excuse us” and “pardon me”s barely making up for the way she was shoving people to one side or the other.

 

They raced to the motorcycle, which Spike had running before Buffy had even fastened her helmet.   The instant her hands were firmly clutching his ribs, the bike roared out of the parking lot and towards Restfield Cemetery.

 

 

Chapter Four

 

While Spike wove his way through the darkened streets, Buffy’s hands were busy unbuckling his belt so that she could slide them into his pants and stroke the soft skin on his lower abdomen.  She left one hand there, while the other crept up under his shirt and began to play with a hardened nipple.  The vampire’s growl of response shivered through her to mingle with the vibrations from the powerful engine beneath them. 

 

She scooted even closer to his back, pressing herself against him and letting the vibrations jiggle her into a small orgasm.  When she gasped and dug her fingernails into the skin of Spike’s stomach, he swerved so abruptly that he had to stop and put one leg out to keep from crashing.

 

“What the bloody he--” With the wind no longer blowing in his face, he could smell Buffy; sudden realization arrived at the same time as she delved deeper into his pants with one hand, while unzipping them with the other.  His cock burst out into the cool air, only to be wrapped immediately in Buffy’s warm fingers. 

 

“Let’s go,” she murmured into his back.  “I want to get back to our – your – bed.”

 

“It’s our bed, love, never doubt it. But if you think I can drive while you’re…ah! Buffy!  Slayer.  Fuck, love, you need to st…don’t stop.  Just like that, pet…yes, love, squeeze me, Slayer…” With a shudder, he came in her hands, reveling in the way she continued to milk his cock until it collapsed.  His hands were still gripping the handlebars where they’d been resting when he stopped, but his eyes were resting on her with wonder.

 

“Did you just get me off on a public street?”

 

Buffy glanced around quickly.  “It’s Sunnydale…and it’s nighttime. There’s nobody around.”  She wriggled against him and cradled his limp cock in her hands.  “Let’s go now,” she ordered. 

 

“Wind’s a bit chilly, pet. Will you zip me up?”

 

“I’ll keep it nice and warm,” she purred.  “Don’t you worry about that. You just get us home in one piece.”

 

“Easier said than done,” he muttered, as her warm hands began stroking him again.  Driving much more slowly than before, he did his best to steer the big bike back to his crypt without laying it down in a moment of pleasant distraction.  He rolled up behind the crypt and shut the engine off, turning to blink at Buffy when she gave a disappointed moan.

 

“What? Thought you wanted to be here.”

 

“I do,” she pouted, “but I really like the way it feels when the motor’s running and I’m pressed up against you and my…uh….and everything is being jiggled…and…TMI, huh?”

 

He laughed and stood up far enough to turn until he was facing her on the seat.  Immediately, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled herself against him.  Spike’s body began to vibrate – a mixture of purring and growling that soon had Buffy whimpering and crowding closer. 

 

“As good as a motorcycle, pet?” he whispered between little kisses, still maintaining the constant vibration.

 

“Um…better,” she moaned. “The motorcycle can’t kiss like--”

 

Spike’s mouth cut her off as he fastened it on hers and began to pour the night’s stored up emotions into a kiss that lasted until she was squirming with the need to find release.   Spike’s hands were frantically opening her pants and pushing them down, his growls becoming louder as he realized that she was going to have to move away from him if he was to gain access to his goal. 

 

“Rip them,” she gasped, straining towards him.  “Go ahead and rip them.”

 

With a snarl of agreement, he yanked on one leg until the seam parted and he could move it aside. Her underwear was gone before she even noticed that she was open to him.  Immediately, he slid into her, their matching sighs of relief making them both smile.

 

“Been wantin’ to do this all night,” he said, moving against her slowly.

 

“Me too,” she admitted.  “I think there must be something wrong with me – that I want you so much.”

 

“I think there’s something very right with you.” He smiled and buried his face in the silky skin of her neck. “Very, very right.”

 

Buffy arched her neck, leaving her throat open to his mouth. The already healed holes from his fangs teased his tongue with the knowledge of what was pounding through the vein just under them.

 

“You’re killin’ me here, love,” he growled, fighting to contain his demon as he increased the pace of his thrusts. 

 

In response, she brought her head down and fastened her own mouth on the mark she’d made earlier.  Her shriek of completion as she spasmed around him was muffled by the skin of his throat, which she involuntarily grasped with her teeth as she shook with her orgasm.

 

A guttural snarl erupted from his throat as his demon responded to the bite; and he arched into her, his true face to the fore as he spent himself in her still quivering body. Before he could recover enough to change back, he had sunk his fangs into the tempting flesh in front of him.  Even as he struggled to resist, he was pulling deep draughts of Buffy’s blood into his mouth, spurred on by the renewed clenching around him as she orgasmed again.

 

When his cock softened within her, and her cries of release tapered off to gasping breaths, he gently removed his fangs and licked the holes.

 

“I love you, Slayer,” he whispered.  “Love you so much…”

 

“I…I…love you, too,” she gasped into his neck, dropping her head in exhaustion.

 

They clung together, her legs still firmly around his hips and his arms holding her tightly, until the incongruity of their position began to register. 

 

“Did we just have sex on a motorcycle?” she asked rhetorically, blushing as she realized that they were still, essentially, in public.  Not that she expected anyone to come walking up behind Spike’s crypt after dark, but still…

 

“I’m pretty sure we did,” he grinned at her, his teeth just barely visible in the moonlight. 

 

“And you ripped my new pants!”

 

“You told me to, you impatient bint. Don’t be blaming me for that!”

 

Buffy reluctantly allowed him to lift her off his softened cock.  He held her steady until she had dismounted from the bike, then he swung his own leg over and joined her on ground.  He pulled his pants onto his hips and ran the zipper up far enough to hold them in place until they could get inside.  Buffy was staring at the ripped out crotch of her good slacks in dismay.  A light breeze blew through the cemetery and she shivered.

 

“My…I’m going to be all cold,” she complained, standing with her legs slightly apart while their combined spendings oozed down her bare thighs.

 

“Come on inside, love,” he laughed. “I promise to warm it right up for you.”

 

She gave a little ‘eep’ as he scooped her up and walked around the big stone building.  He kicked the door open, then turned once he was inside and allowed Buffy to kick it closed.

 

“Dammed good thing they made those doors sturdy,” he muttered, walking towards the entrance to his bedroom.  Buffy was grateful that he was carrying her; only the faintest trace of moonlight relieved the inky atmosphere of the crypt and she couldn’t see anything but shadows.  Still holding her, Spike dropped gracefully down into his bedroom, his landing so soft that she was barely aware that they were down.

 

“That was pretty nifty.”

 

 His smirking, “I can do a lot of ‘nifty’ things, Slayer,” had her snorting her disbelief, and they shared a small laugh.  She still couldn’t see, the darkness underground being complete and impenetrable, even to the vampire.  He set her down gently.

 

 “Stay put, love, till I get some light for us.”

 

In just a few seconds, he had lit enough candles for them to be able to see.  Buffy’s eyes were drawn to the bed, still in disarray from their afternoon dalliance. 

 

We made love on that bed.  We MAKE love on that bed.  That’s where Spike has taught me about love.

 

While Spike watched, head tilted and eyes curious, she walked to the bed and smoothed out the rumpled sheets, leaving one corner turned down invitingly.  Feeling inexplicably shy, she sat down on the edge and pulled her legs together, suddenly conscious of the gaping hole where her underwear and pants used to be.  She shifted uncomfortably, trying to pull the ripped fabric together to hide the brown curls just peeking out, and wondering what to do next.

 

 I told him I loved him. I said it! Twice, if you count the Bronze slip-up.

 

Spike watched her from across the room, his hand still holding the lighter with which he’d relieved the unrelenting darkness that was his home. He felt a tightening in his chest as she continued to look around the room, her eyes darting from familiar item to familiar item, never lingering and never landing on him.  Her nervousness was palpable; he was sure he could have felt it even without his vampire enhancements.  He took a deep, calming breath, then walked over to kneel at her feet. 

 

He put his hands on her knees, not failing to notice how her heart rate went up when he touched her, but knowing it wasn’t from desire this time.

 

“What’s wrong, Buffy?” he asked, squeezing her knees gently. 

 

“I don’t know.   I think it’s my turn to be a little bit gobsmacked,” she admitted, covering his hands with her own.

 

“About?”

 

“About everything! You. Me. Us. This morning you were just a dirty little secret – the only thing that was keeping me sane.  And now, we’re…we’re a couple.  And everybody knows, and nobody cares and I feel like…” She turned wide eyes on him.  “I feel like I’ve wasted all this time that we could have been going on dates, and cuddling on the couch and you could have stayed at my house sometimes, and…” 

 

Once again he cut her off by giving her a kiss that took her mind off everything but the lips and tongue so gently demanding her attention.  When she had begun to breathe normally, he broke off to leave small, open-mouthed kisses all over her face and neck.  He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her chin, murmuring to her the entire time.

 

“Wouldn’t take back a minute of the times we’ve had,” he soothed.  “Gonna be all the better for bein’ a long time coming, yeah?”  He ran one hand along her cheek, marveling at the way she leaned into it rather than flinching away as he was accustomed.  “We’re still gonna be us.  We’ll argue, and fight and then we’ll shag ourselves silly…”

 

“But, sometimes, we’ll make love?” she interrupted, bringing her own hand up to trace the contours of his face.  “Like you always wanted me to?”

 

“We’ll be making love,” he agreed.  “We’ll always be making love, sweetheart.  Even when we’re fighting – we’ll still be lovin’ each other.”

 

Buffy looked at him dubiously.  “Why would we fight if we love each other?”

 

“’cause that’s who we are, Buffy.  You’re the Slayer, got the urge to fix everything by killing it; and I’m a vampire – got a demon living in me that gets off on pain and blood.  Wasn’t it you what told me that – the first time?  That I only liked you because you beat on me so much?  You weren’t entirely wrong, love.”

 

That’s why you love me?  Because I hurt you?”  She stiffened and pulled away from his earnest face.  “That’s just…sick!”

 

“’s not why I love you, Slayer.”  His eyes were boring into hers, determined to make her understand before she convinced herself once again that she shouldn’t be there with him.  “I love you for all that you are and do – love the way you try and never give up, love that you care so much about your friends and family that you…nevermind.  I love that you’re beautiful and brave, and strong and sexy and that you don’t even know the wonderful person that you are.  But the vampire in me is also just a little bit in love with the fact that you aren’t afraid to hurt me – and that you can take whatever I might throw at you and give it back twice over.  The poet in me is in love with a brave, beautiful woman; the demon is in love with the Slayer.  I can’t separate them.  And I don’t want to.  It’s who we are, love.”

 

While he’d been speaking, Spike’s free hand had been easing its way up her leg until it reached the ripped out crotch of her formerly good pants. His fingers slid inside the fabric and began to tease her outer lips, causing her breath to hitch while she tried to think of a reply to his assessment of their relationship.  He put one of her legs over his shoulder and lowered his mouth to the opening in her clothing, following the path traced by his finger and murmuring to her the entire time.

 

“Love this, too,” he crooned, licking their combined juices off her thighs and carefully trimmed hair.  “Remember what you said this afternoon about us tasting good together, pet?”

 

She nodded, at a loss for words as she fell back on the bed and indulged herself in the sensations he was creating between her legs.  She pushed her hips up, silently begging for more attention.

 

“Ah, there it is,” he said with a smirk.  “Just like I said at dinner, licked off until it’s all pink and shiny for me.  Whatever should I do with it now?”

 

Buffy waved her hand weakly.  “I have a suggestion,” she gasped.

 

“Really?” He sat back on his heels, leaving her legs over his shoulders and her newly cleaned off private parts open to his gaze.  Buffy whimpered at the loss of contact, whining his name with no hesitation and pushing her hips towards him again.

 

“What is that suggestion, love?  Did you want me to stop?”

 

A garbled “no!” accompanied by another whimper brought a grin to the vampire’s face.

 

“What do you want, love?  You’ll have to tell me, or I…”

 

“Your mouth! On me. Now!”  Whimpering done, the Slayer’s tone brooked no argument as she sat up long enough to grab his hair and push his face where she wanted it.  With a happy chuckle, he grabbed the aching nubbin in his blunt teeth and began to worry it.  Buffy’s cry of pleasure/pain and the way she fell back onto the bed were reward enough as he bent to his task of keeping her right on the edge of release as long as possible.

 

While he was using his lips, tongue and teeth to keep her keening and trembling, he was pushing his own shoes and pants to the floor.  His cock was rubbing against the edge of the bed, the rough fabric of the quilt a poor substitute for Buffy’s velvety walls; but it was enough to keep him willing to stick to his designated job until she was almost sobbing her pleas for release.  He sucked the little piece of flesh into his mouth and sucked on it until, with a shriek, she clamped her legs around his head and arched her hips all the way off the bed.

 

While she was still trembling, he swarmed up onto the bed and plunged into her.  Her legs came up around him and she responded immediately, meeting him stroke for stroke and ignoring her body’s need to recuperate.  She cried out again - his name this time - as he began striking the interior bundle of nerves just behind her clit.  Her chant of “Spike, Spike, Spike!” combined with the way she was squeezing him with every stroke was all it took to bring him roaring to a finish, sure that he must be hurting her by forcing himself so deep.  But there was no complaint from the Slayer, only another small tremor as she joined him in release, holding him so tightly with her arms and legs that he couldn’t have eased up if he’d wanted to.

 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, love,” he groaned, struggling to raise his head far enough to look at her.  Buffy’s face was slack, only her eyes showing that she heard him. 

 

“You’re already dead,” she whispered, unable to summon the energy for anything louder.  She loosened her arms so that he could roll off to the side, and they lay there for more minutes, waiting for their breathing to return to normal.  Their legs dangled off the edge of the bed, the vampire naked from the waist down and Buffy almost as naked, her pants having suffered more damage during the course of Spike’s actions.

 

Finally feeling as though she could move again, Buffy sat up on one elbow and looked down at their disheveled and partially clothed bodies.  She began to giggle, escalating to shoulder-shaking laughter as she stared.  Spike raised his head to see what she found so amusing and had to join her, his deep chuckles adding to the mirth.  Completely dressed from the waist up, the Slayer was sprawled, legs akimbo, completely exposed except for the waistband still fastened around her narrow waist and the bottoms of the pants legs still clinging to her calves. 

 

His own new shirt was wrinkled, but intact – only seeming incongruous when the eye followed it down to the flat stomach and relaxed cock hanging over his thigh.  He noted that his socks were still on and tried to push them off with his feet, soon giving it up as a bad job.

 

“We’re a pair, aren’t we, pet?” he said with another laugh. 

 

“At least we made it to the bed, this time,” she offered.  “Even if we didn’t quite make it out of our clothes.”

 

“Can take care of that,” he rumbled, reaching over and beginning to unbutton her blouse.  Buffy raised her free hand and began to unbutton his shirt, starting at the bottom and working her way up until she could push it open and slide her hands over his smooth, muscular chest.  When her blouse was undone and a clever vampire hand had unhooked her lacy little bra, they both had to admit that sitting up and taking their hands off each other for a minute was the only reasonable way out of their situation.

 

Buffy sat up first, shrugging her blouse off and tossing it away from the bed where she hoped it would be safe from further abuse.  The bra followed it, leaving her in the ripped pants.  She quickly unfastened them and kicked them off to fall on the floor beside the bed.

 

Spike was still lying half-on, half-off the big bed and watching her undress.  She put her hands on her hips and demanded, “You too, buddy. Let’s go.”

 

He sat up and she immediately began pushing the shirt off his body, using the close proximity to lick his chest.  He let the shirt join his other clothes on the floor, and leaned down to take off his socks.  When he sat back up, Buffy had turned and was crawling towards to top of the bed, her bare ass waving as she moved. 

 

His mouth watered as he watched her, then, unable to stop himself, he reached forward and grabbed one firm cheek with his teeth.  He began to suck on it, not stopping until he had raised a large, red love bite. 

 

“Did you just give me a hickey on my ass?”  Disbelief, laughter and indignation fought for prominence in her voice and face.

 

“Yep!  Right nice one, if I say so myself,” he said, grinning at her as if they’d just vanquished a whole gang of master vampires.

 

She peered over her shoulder, but couldn’t get at the right angle and finally gave up and sat against the headboard with a pout.

 

“I want to see it.”

 

“It’s beautiful, pet. You’ll just have to take my word for it.  Not quite as beautiful as the arse its sitting on, mind you, but nice enough, if I say so myself.”

 

“Hummph” was the only reply as she slid down onto the pillows and under the covers.  “If I wasn’t so tired and sleepy, I’d give you another one someplace really embarrassing.”

 

“Another time, love,” he agreed, joining her under the linens and pulling her into his arms.  “Some other time.”

 

“’k,” she mumbled, her eyes already falling shut.  “It was a good Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it?” she asked, turning to snuggle against his chest.

 

“The best ever, sweetheart.” 

 

The end

 

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