Title: Show, Don’t Tell (5/5)
Setting: Post-NFA, early 2006
Word Count: 5,500/25,500
Summary: Anya wants to know why she never sees Spike’s bite marks on Buffy’s neck. Buffy wants to know why Spike never asked her to do anything of the sort.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear-
“Happy birthday to you!”
During the song Angel’s face was contorted as though he was doing his utmost to keep from looking pleased, but as he bent over the candles Buffy saw a small, embarrassed smile emerge. They all clapped when the three flames on the number candles went out- well, Spike put his hands together once, and Anya elbowed Xander until he did the same. Cordelia handed Angel a big knife, and Dawn began passing out plastic forks.
“You have to take a bite,” said Gunn when Angel tried to pass him the first slice. “We can’t eat until you do.”
That little smile reappeared before Angel stuck a forkful in his mouth. “Happy?” he demanded, trying and failing to sound exasperated.
“Yes,” said Cordelia, as Spike said, “You manage to sound like a martyr even when you’re eating cake?”
Dawn, Gunn, and Xander snickered as Angel and Cordelia shot him identical glares. Spike still wore a smirk when Gunn handed him a plateful of the black forest cake that Lorne had promised would pop out Angel’s soul if it weren’t anchored, but it transformed into a smile as he passed the plate to Buffy. She smiled back, delighting in the way his eyes slid down her new rose-patterned sundress. Dawn had to swat him to get him to take his own plate.
“Is the reason we’re eating cake filled with cherry so that it looks like blood?” asked Xander. “‘Cause that’s seriously gross.”
Still holding Spike’s gaze, Buffy moved her fork to her mouth but went no further. She ran her tongue across her top teeth, just grazing her lip.
“But delicious,” chirped Willow.
Spike’s pupils dilated.
“Oh my gosh, can you imagined blood filled cake? It would be so good,” squealed Harmony.
“Lover boy, why aren’t you eating?” Lorne appeared at Spike’s shoulder. “You’re practically drooling!”
Buffy’s smiled widened, and she took a bite.
* * *
An hour later found the party on the roof. Gunn had cleared off a card table from the office, and he and Xander had carried it up the fire escape while Buffy and Spike hauled folding chairs and Dawn and Anya followed with all their drinks. When Buffy saw her companions’ latest hands she threw down her own and groaned theatrically.
“That’s it. I’m done. Kaput.”
“And the Gunnmeister wins again!” crowed Gunn, leaning forward to drag back the pot.
“Um, no. Don’t go there, hon,” said Dawn.
“Sounds too much like a bad NRA mascot?”
“No, it just sounds bad.”
“You can have some of my chips,” said Spike, sliding a pile in Buffy’s direction.
She held up a hand. “No, thanks. I’m pokered out. It’s not my thing.”
“It’s not my thing either,” huffed Anya. “I much prefer games where I can amass money based on my prudent investments. This is all dumb luck.”
“No it’s not,” said Spike and Gunn together as Xander said, “Aw, is someone a sore loser tonight?”
“Does someone want orgasms tonight?”
“Light of my life, apple of my eye, you are right: this is sheer dumb luck.”
“Sell-out,” muttered Spike.
Anya thrust several chips forward. “Deal. As long as we’re not using real money, I’m playing ‘til I win.”
“Where does ‘apple of my eye’ even come from?” said Dawn as Gunn began dealing. “It’s such a weird saying.”
“Hell if I know,” said Xander cheerfully. “I just figure it’s fitting since, you know…”
Spike turned back to Buffy. “Sure you don’t want to play?”
“Yeah.” She rose and stretched.
“You’re not going to stay and be my good luck charm at least?” he asked with a pout.
She smiled. “I’m going to get some water. Does anyone want anything?”
Spike tipped his bottle to look at the liquid inside. “Will you grab me another beer?”
“Think you can make me a rum and coke?”
Buffy swiveled to give her sister the stink-eye. Dawn was grinning much too impudently.
“I think you’re under twenty-one.”
Dawn turned to Gunn. “Have you heard the story of when Buffy drank magical beer and turned into a cavewoman?”
“Rum and coke it is,” said Buffy hastily.
“I was serious before!” called Dawn as Buffy made for the fire escape. “Do you even know how to mix a drink? I don’t want alcohol poisoning!”
“I’ll get Lorne to do it!” Buffy called back. “Good luck, sweetie! Try not to cheat too much!”
“I would never,” gasped Dawn, putting a hand to her heart in mock horror.
“I think she was talking to Spike,” said Anya.
“Oh, he wouldn’t dare cheat with me,” said Dawn. “He knows I’d kick his ass.”
“Do you want to be the pot or kettle, nibblet?”
“Hey, if I cheat, and I’m not saying I would ever sink so low as a certain vampire I know, it’s only because you taught me…”
Buffy grinned as she started down the fire escape, but she only made it a few steps before having to stop short.
“Ahem,” she said, after regaining her composure.
Rather than leap apart, Harmony and Connor detached with a long sucking sound and a little pop.
“Sorry,” said Connor breathlessly. He shuffled his feet, but Harmony already had him pretty well pressed against the wall.
“Oh, right,” said Harmony, when Buffy raised an eyebrow. She hopped onto the next step so Buffy could squeeze past.
“Thanks,” she said drily and couldn’t resist adding, “Does Angel know you’re out here?” But they were already kissing again.
Or trying to eat each other’s faces. It was a toss up. As she rounded the corner and descended the next flight she wondered idly if they would make their excuses and go home early. From the scattered complaints and rants she’d heard from Angel and the anecdotes Anya occasionally passed on from Cordelia, she didn’t gather they cared too much about privacy.
She heard a small moan just before she climbed through the open window, and a faint blush heated her face. Would their necking turn into something more- a different sort of necking- right there on the fire escape? The thought made her blush heighten and her heart pound faster. She hadn’t noticed scars on Connor’s neck, but she was willing to bet all of Spike’s poker chips they were there. Harmony and Connor didn’t strike her as inhibited about anything.
Not like me.
Buffy firmly pushed the thought away. Tonight wasn’t a night for regret. Tonight was for having fun with her friends- all of them- and seeing her sister and celebrating with Angel; enjoying the fact that she was a twenties-something with a steady income, a great social group, and the ability to take off work for a night.
Once inside she paused briefly to take in the living room-cum-dining room-cum kitchen that made up half of Cordelia and Angel’s apartment. Willow, Oz, and Lorne sat at the table with the remains of the finger food; Illyria perched on the couch playing a video game, completely motionless except for her fingers; Angel and Cordelia talked quietly in the corner.
“Hey, Buffy,” said Willow as she crossed to the kitchen to refill her plastic cup.
“Hey.” Buffy slid into the open seat next to Oz after getting her water. “What’s up?”
“Talking about the band,” said Willow.
“I’m trying to convince him to go on tour,” said Lorne. “Lemon Drop, tell him it’s a good idea, won’t you?”
“It’s a good idea,” said Buffy obediently,
“He means on the east coast,” said Oz.
“Eurgh.” Buffy shot Lorne an apologetic look. “That’s far away.”
The Pylean sighed in exasperation. “Yes, but I’ve got some great, completely non-evil contacts left over from the Wolfram and Hart days that are going to waste…”
As Lorne began dropping names that presumably meant something to Oz but meant zilch to her, Buffy’s attention wandered to the room’s other occupants.
It was unsettling how absorbed Illyria was in her game. Her blue orb eyes- unsettling in and of themselves- never wavered from the screen, although her lip did curl occasionally. She had been more animated earlier when Spike played with her. She had even been trash talking, if, “Your plumber is as weak as you, half-breed; he will grovel before the princess of peaches,” counted as trash talk.
Buffy was just glad Spike had been able to talk her out of having an actual fight. The last time they visited Illyria had insisted on sparring with him, and Spike had ended up with two broken ribs; they hadn’t had sex for a week. The former god still took it personally that Spike had “left her” to be with Buffy. At least she hadn’t threatened to kill Buffy tonight or referred to Spike as her “pet on loan to the slayer.” The ensuing brawl would have put a damper on the festivities.
Buffy’s gaze fell on the birthday boy and Cordelia. They were still talking but had shifted position. Cordelia’s back was to Angel’s chest, and his arms wrapped around her; his chin rested in the crook of her shoulder. Buffy felt a small smile cross her face; they looked happy. She had wondered at the efficacy of throwing a party for someone who so often doubted the value of his own existence, but Angel actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Having Cordelia back had done wonders for his disposition, even before they got his soul anchored.
Buffy was glad they had made the trek out to LA, and not just because it was a chance to see Dawn. She had also, perhaps for the first time ever, looked forward to seeing her old classmate. Cordelia had called in late February to check on her and called again in March to invite her to the party, rather than just email her. They hadn’t spoken in private at all tonight, but Cordelia had squeezed her unusually hard when they hugged, and Buffy didn’t think she had imagined the note of concern in her, “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she had responded, with an acknowledging, genuine smile. And she was; things with Spike had gone back to normal unexpectedly fast after she said she wouldn’t ask again. He seemed content to let sleeping dogs lie, and if she found herself idly tracing her scars more often these days, and thinking wistfully that there should be another one there, well, it was a tic she would just have to learn to live with.
Angel whispered something to Cordelia, and a wide, confident smile spread across her face. Though it was hard to tell at this distance, Buffy thought Cordelia’s hands tightened over Angel’s on her stomach. Angel kissed her right below the ear before trailing his lips down her neck. Cordelia’s head tilted toward him, seemingly unconsciously.
The hair on the back of Buffy’s neck rose. She felt like a voyeur, but she couldn’t force herself to look away. There was just something magnetic about them; they looked so content. So peaceful. They looked like they were the only ones in the room; or like it just didn’t matter that they weren’t alone.
A strange feeling welled in the pit of her stomach. It took Buffy a minute to identify it as envy. Which didn’t make any sense; Cordelia and Angel had nothing she should be envious of.
Angel’s lips still pressed against Cordelia’s neck. Buffy’s stomach flipped over as she realized where- what- he must be kissing. Cordelia’s eyelids fluttered; she raised a hand and caressed his hair, his cheek, pressing him closer. Buffy’s throat went dry.
It’s a little about possession but it’s also about love and trust and being- okay, this sounds stupid- being joined, as completely as possible.
A bolt of heat shot through Buffy, so unexpectedly that she let out a soft gasp. She took a big gulp from her glass in case Willow or Oz had noticed. The water felt good on her parched throat but did nothing to quell the strange, simmering feeling inside her. Her fingers crept up to her neck. She shivered.
Oh. Okay then.
“Buffy, are you cold?”
Buffy started and turned toward Willow. “No.” She glanced automatically back at Cordelia and Angel, hoping they hadn’t moved. She felt like she was watching an exotic wild animal, hoping it wouldn’t leave or startle.
Angel’s chin rested in the crook of Cordelia’s neck again, his cheek pressed to hers. His eyes were closed, and he smiled faintly. Cordelia’s thumb rubbed circles in the back of his clasped hands.
Buffy quickly downed the rest of her water. “Lorne, can you make a rum and coke, please?” she blurted.
Lorne and Oz both looked taken aback by her interruption, but the Pylean nodded and said, “Sure thing, sweet pea.”
“It’s for Dawn,” said Buffy. “So not too much rum.”
She stood to retrieve a beer from the fridge. She had been gone too long.
Her spine tingled as she walked past Cordelia and Angel to the window with the drinks. She thought she saw Cordelia give her a half-smile, but she was flushing too hard to meet her friend’s gaze.
“I love you more,” she heard as she mounted the stairs.
“No, I love you more.”
“I love you more.”
Buffy cleared her throat again. Connor looked embarrassed; Harmony looked annoyed.
“You know, for two supernaturally endowed beings, you don’t seem to notice when someone’s sneaking up on you,” said Buffy. “Or, you know, not sneaking.”
But she was smiling as she climbed past them to the roof. She crossed quickly to the card table and put the rum and coke in front of Dawn.
“Sorry, I took so long. How goes the game?”
“I lost everything,” said Anya. “And then I took Xander’s chips and won it all back. I approve of this game much more now.”
None of the men looked nearly as enthusiastic as they had before she left, Buffy noted.
She stepped to Spike’s side and leaned down to speak in his ear. “Can we leave soon?”
He craned his neck toward her. As their eyes met another bolt lanced through Buffy.
“Really? S’not even eleven yet.”
“It’s a long drive back,” she said. “Please?”
“’Course,” he said, as if there were ever any doubt. He raised his voice. “Last hand, and then I’m out.”
“You don’t want to stay the night?” asked Dawn, jutting out her lower lip. “If you’re horny, you guys can do it on the fold out couch. I remembered to stock up on ear plugs this time.”
“Great, now I have a mental audio track to go with that mental image,” groaned Xander.
“We should get home,” said Buffy, with an apologetic smile. “Thanks, though.”
“Do you want the couch then?” Dawn directed toward Xander and Anya. “That way you don’t have to…”
“Stay with Angel?” Xander snorted. “Yes, please.”
Since Anya and Xander- mostly Anya- had elected to spend the night in LA to hang out more the next day with Angel and Cordelia- mostly Cordelia- and the Scoobies had only driven up in two cars, Buffy had to wait a bit for Willow and Oz to wrap up with Lorne. Fortunately they were amenable to leaving early, and soon the foursome was hugging everyone goodbye and offering Angel last felicitations.
Conversation in the car died down once they reached the dark highways on the outskirts of the city. Looking in the rearview mirror, Buffy saw Willow and Oz snuggled up, her head resting on his shoulder, and his head on hers. Neither was asleep, but both had that half-lidded, hazy-eyed look that Buffy remembered from long-ago car trips, before the divorce, when all her and Dawn’s energy would suddenly dissipate and they realized that in the right circumstances, the car could be just as comfortable as a bed.
Beside her, Spike had his left hand on the wheel and his right relaxed on his knee. His eyes were focused on the road, and a small smile drifted on his lips. After all the moaning and groaning she’d had to put up with the past few weeks that he didn’t want to drive six hours to celebrate Angel’s birthday, ‘that sorry day in history,’ she was tempted to tease him about having enjoyed himself tonight. She didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace, though, and tonight no longer felt like a night for teasing.
She put her hand over his, and his fingers turned over to intertwine with hers. He smiled at her, and the way the dim light made his eyes gleam and flash in unfamiliar ways as they danced over her, so she had to guess what he was thinking, made her heart skip a beat. Warmth radiated in her again, but it wasn’t the breathtaking, insubstantial bolts of before; the heat curling in her now was slow and steady, as sticky as honey; it welled from within her, rather than striking her, and diffused through her whole body. She wondered if he could sense the change in her without the fast-pulsed anticipation to give it away. There wasn’t much anticipation now, because there was no longer any question.
He shot her another smile when she began rubbing circles on his hand with her thumb. She thought idly of doing more, squeezing his knee, sliding her hand up his thigh to encourage him to drive faster, but she wouldn’t have even if Willow and Oz weren’t in the back seat. Tonight wasn’t a night for fast either.
At times the drive seemed interminable, but sooner than she had expected they were pulling into Willow and Oz’s driveway. The pair got out and wished them goodnight, and seconds later Spike pulled into their own garage next door. As Buffy collected her coat and purse from the back, she felt like she was moving in slow motion, like the honey was outside her now, too. Yet everything was also sharper and brighter; or maybe it was her own senses that were heightened. She imagined she could hear her pulse pounding steadily away, her blood rushing confidently through her body, and smiled to herself as she went into the house and shut the door behind her.
“For one of the worst days in history that wasn’t too bad,” began Spike.
She cut him off with a kiss.
His faint noise of surprise told her he hadn’t felt her warmth during the drive. She pressed closer to him, and he opened his mouth to hers. Several minutes passed, or maybe it was just one long, leisurely, honey-slow minute. When his hand slid up from the small of her back to her zipper, she murmured, “Not yet. Upstairs.”
His look of surprise gave way to a half-nod that was lost as his lips captured hers again. His hand continued upward. When he released the butterfly clip from her hair and tangled his fingers through the locks, gently massaging her scalp, Buffy moaned softly and cupped the back of his neck. She slid her left thumb downward, seeking out the scars Drusilla had put there over twelve decades ago. She had never liked looking at them, this reminder that he had been another’s before he had been hers, and after so long they were almost invisible to the eye anyway, but she thought she knew where they were, just as she had learned every other part of him.
Yes, there- several very slightly raised lines of skin beneath the pad of her thumb. Buffy traced them with the edge of her nail. He stifled groan and ground against her. She wondered what it was, her nail or the scars or both- if he knew what she touched or if it was instinctive.
He let out a noise of protest when she pulled away.
“Upstairs,” she said raggedly, turning and extending her hand automatically; his was already there to grasp it. They bumped through the hallway and up the staircase, each seeming to pull the other, and barely had they reached the bedroom when Buffy felt her feet leave the ground and the breath whoosh out of her as he lifted her.
Their kisses were greedy now, frantic; Buffy felt as though a second flame had erupted in her in addition to the slow-burning one, and this new one was definitely of the time sensitive firework variety. When Spike pulled, one handed, too hard at her zipper and the fabric bent, she reached behind to help so he wouldn’t resort to ripping it. Together they succeeded in yanking the dress over her head, all while her legs stayed locked around him and his other hand supported her ass. They stumbled toward the bed. At the last instant Spike rocked back on his heels and kept them from sprawling; he laid her down gently and reared back to pull off his own clothes. Buffy unclasped her bra and reached for her underwear, but he was already there.
“Can I?” he whispered.
She barely glanced down. “Yes.”
His teeth flashed white in the dark, accompanied by a loud rip as he tore her panties off.
She pulled him down and bucked upward in wordless encouragement. His hand slid between her thighs as he kissed her, but she shook her head and whispered breathlessly, “Now.”
Time for foreplay- afterplay- later- after-
He moved his hand and a second later he was pushing slowly into her, filling her. The warmth inside her flared, and she circled her legs around him again to pull him deeper. He braced his weight on his arms and thrust. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, but not in the panicked way it had two months ago. She was exhilarated, not scared, and if her stomach swooped with nerves it also burned with readiness. Maybe this was wrong for slayers; maybe it went against the natural order. But they already went against the natural order. She’d made that choice long ago when she let herself love him, and this- biting- didn’t go against their natural order any more than his slaying of other vampires did.
The heat stretched up her limbs now, and she knew she was close. She knew he was too, could feel it in his tensing muscles and faster thrusts. He slid his hand between them to stimulate her, trying to make her come first.
“No,” she whispered, and she pulled him down, crushing his weight to her. She kissed him long and hard and tugged at his lower lip with her teeth. She met his rapt, lust-and-love filled gaze for a second before gently pressing his head into the crook of her neck. She was so close…
He started to lift his head, but she pushed him back down. She couldn’t really kiss him at this angle but tried anyway, brushing her lips to his hair and ear. She squeezed her inner muscles, and he moaned.
She heard the soft grinding and noted the changed texture of his skin; felt the pinprick of his fangs-
And then they slid in, and- oh- it did hurt, for a moment her neck was on a different sort of fire than the rest of her, and she heard herself gasp; then the pain dulled to a steady throbbing as he began to suck, and it stung, but it was almost a good kind of stinging, like way sex could hurt sometimes and still be good.
The heat inside her sputtered momentarily as the alien sensations whirled through her, but no sooner had she decided that the sucking was all right than it began to build again, stronger than before.
Yes, yes, yes, she thought, and wasn’t sure if she was saying it aloud. He thrust more erratically, and she bucked and tightened her grip in his hair. Almost there, and oh she felt kind of dizzy and was tingling all over, sparking now instead of just warm-
He seized up, and as she felt him come inside her his fangs sank just a bit deeper.
The firework exploded, and Buffy screamed.
When she came back to herself the first thing she was aware of was her heartbeat, which was still erratic but had slowed considerably, much faster than it usually did. The second thing was the dull ache in her neck and the absence of the continuous stinging that had meant he was pulling droughts from her. The third was that Spike’s head was pillowed in her breasts now, his face hidden, and he was trembling uncontrollably.
“H-hey.” It took a second for her voice to work.
His head jerked up, and the rapid, unusual succession of relief and then fear made her want to cuddle him close.
“Are you okay?” He pushed himself up. Buffy noticed that his gaze skittered away from her neck.
“I’m fine.” She smiled, hoping to ease his look of misery, and repeated gently, “I’m fine.”
He still looked lost. “I’m sorry. I-”
“Stop. Don’t say sorry.” She cupped his cheek, and her now sluggish heart purred when his eyelids fluttered and he leaned automatically into her hand.
“Don’t say sorry for something I told you to do,” she said, hoping this would be the last time they had to have this conversation.
His eyes finally strayed to her neck, and his expression gradually verged on awe. “Buffy…”
She waited, but he seemed at a complete loss for words. After a moment he rested his forehead on her shoulder; she could still feel him trembling.
“Hey,” she whispered. “It’s all right.” She stroked his cheek until he looked at her.
“Change back,” she murmured.
“What?” His blue eyes blinked at her.
She moved her fingers to his brow. “Change back.”
He stared at her uneasily, like he was waiting for her to say ‘just kidding.’ When she didn’t, he took a breath and shifted. Ridges and wrinkles appeared; blue eyes transformed to gold-yellow; fangs stared back at her. They looked neither very sharp nor very threatening up close. Not now.
Buffy studied his visage; she wasn’t repulsed at all.
She cupped his cheek and brought her lips to his.
He jerked back. “What-”
She pulled him back and kissed him, slowly and gently, mindful of his teeth. His lips stayed fused together for far longer than usual, but after some judicious probing with her tongue he kissed her back. She traced his fangs carefully with her tongue and tasted his mouth’s coppery tang- her tang.
When she finally released him he looked as bewildered as she had ever seen him, fangs or no. In fact, she had to stifle a giggle. Confusion was not a good look for fangs.
“Why?” he croaked, and her amusement vanished.
“Because I love you,” she said. For three months he had been asking that question, and now she could finally articulate the answer. “All of you. Including the vampire parts of you. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to hide what you are. I don’t want you to pretend to be human. I don’t want you to hide or- or suppress what makes you a vampire. Because I wouldn’t change you.” She gently traced the scar on his eyebrow. “And I’m not sure you knew that.”
Spike had stared at her for so long that she was starting to wonder whether he had heard her when a shudder wracked his whole body and his features melted back to human. She didn’t even have time to see them properly before he looked away, blinking. The muscles in his arms trembled so violently she almost teased that he could face plant on her breasts again if he wanted.
His eyes were wet when he finally looked at her. “That’s why the biting was so important to you.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “That’s why.”
“Why tonight?” he asked hoarsely. “What changed?”
The answer came to mind instantly, but it was so sentimental she had to force the words out. “Because I realized it wasn’t biting so much as a different way of making love.”
His lips trembled. Then again, sentimentality was where he lived.
This time she gave into the urge to tease. “Any other kinky vampire things I should know about?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not off the top of my head. But I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Good,” she murmured. “’Cause I want you to tell me if there are.”
He nodded slowly and his gaze returned, rapt, to her neck. As much as he had avoided it before, he seemed unable to look away now. He finally wore that look of reverent awe she had been waiting for all along. Buffy shivered when he touched a finger gently to the wound.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered back, and resisted the sudden, self-conscious urge to ask, How did I taste?
“How do you feel?”
That was a good question. She stretched her cramped muscles, doing a mental inventory. Her faculties were fine, but physically she felt way more exhausted than any single round of sex merited. Her body felt heavy, like moving more than her hand was just too much effort. Her heartbeat was strong but still slow. All in all, she thought she would be quite comfortable if she didn’t move for the rest of the night. Maybe she could find the energy to text Anya.
“Tired,” she said. “Kind of warm and melty, like an ice cream bar that’s stuck to the plate.”
Spike smiled at her description. “Can I get you anything?”
Buffy suppressed a yawn. “Maybe in a few minutes.” She could probably do with some sugar, but it wasn’t pressing.
Spike hesitated, suddenly looking shy. “So was it…was it all right? Do you think we’ll ever…” He paused, and she knew he was remembering her words. “Are you willing to do it again sometime?”
Buffy felt a swell of pleasure at the question. “Yes,” she said, without having to think about it. “Probably not for a few days or weeks, but I definitely foresee it in our future.” She hesitated herself before adding, with a faint blush, “That was a pretty damn good orgasm.”
Her heart turned over at his huge grin, and she felt another trickle of warmth. Her neck tingled.
She finally gave into her curiosity. “So how do I taste?”
His proud grin turned into an astonished, silly beam, as though he couldn’t believe she had asked and couldn’t wait to answer. “You taste absolutely exquisite, love. Best I’ve ever had. You’re the ambrosia and nectar of the gods.”
When she smiled Spike dipped to kiss her, and as he did he gave a languid thrust of his hips. She hadn’t been paying attention before, but she realized now that he was hard again inside her. Her senses buzzed to respond, but that soporific feeling was also still close at hand.
“I don’t know if I can go again,” she said apologetically. “I’m a little worn out.”
He stilled, concern and chagrin crossing his face. “Sorry, pet. Of course you are. Wasn’t thinking.”
He wore such an uncomfortable look as he started to ease out of her that she said, “What is it?”
He looked for a moment like he would brush off the question, but then he murmured, sounding faintly embarrassed, “Slayer blood is a bit of an aphrodisiac for vampires.”
Buffy felt her eyes widen to comically large proportions. “Oh. Um, cool. Kind of. Heh.” Giles had never mentioned anything like that. She wondered if it was in the handbook.
“Maybe I can go again,” she relented. “If it’s slow and steady.”
“I can do slow and steady,” he said eagerly, and sank back into her depths.
Buffy bit back a sigh of contentment. Yes, this was definitely all right. Her eyes drifted closed, but they flew open again when he nuzzled her neck. She almost reminded him that she wasn’t ready for biting again as well, but he only lapped gently at the mark. When he kissed it, a shiver ran through her and she arched involuntarily toward him. Oh, Cordelia was wrong; taking him in, all of him, wasn’t passive at all. She smoothed her hand up his back. But Cordelia had been right about everything else; this wasn’t that difficult, and it felt- it felt good.
“Maybe next month-” Her voice caught.
Spike pulled back to look at her. Her neck felt instantly bereft, and she had to resist the urge to push him back down.
She blushed again, feeling inexplicably shy. “Maybe next time I’m on my, um, period, we can try that- that other thing again. You know…”
He stared at her blankly for a second, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and then his eyes lit up. “Really?”
She nodded. “Rea-”
He kissed her breathless before she could finish the word.
“I love you,” he said, the words muffled as he buried his face in her neck again.
Buffy grinned. “I love you, too.”
He began gently thrusting again, and his hands tightened around her as he resumed nuzzling her neck. Despite her languor, sparks shot through her, making her feel warm and fuzzy all over. Buffy hugged him to her with one hand and ran the other through his hair, again resisting the urge to press him back to her neck as he began trailing kisses up toward her lips.
She could definitely get used to this after all.