***Part Nineteen***

"Well," Buffy said, leaning against the bedroom door.

"Well what, Buffy," he asked as he drew the shades and curtains closed in preparation for the morning.

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "It was nice to walk home and not come up against any vamps or demons or hell hounds."

"Me excluded," he said with a light chuckle. "But, yes, I couldn't agree with you more. Nothing like demon goo to sort of put a damper on moods and things," he said regarding her as he leaned against the shade he had just drawn closed.

"What," she asked her voice throaty, amazed she had been able to get the word out. He was standing casually, leaning against the wall, right hand grasping his left wrist resting at the front of his jeans, left foot crossed over his right ankle. He looked relaxed, but the look in his eyes was far from casual or relaxed. He seemed to enjoy her blatant perusal of him as her eyes traveled the length of his body.

"What, what?"

"You're looking at me," she said her voice still throaty. Sex had never involved foreplay or cognizant thought for them. At least for her it had not. It had been more along the lines of search and destroy, seize and conquer, and it had never been planned. The one time she sought him out had been a moment of weakness, a mistake that she regretted more than the other times. She had used him to get over the hurt of seeing Riley had moved on so easily.

"Well, Miss Summers, pardon me but you're looking at me as well. That point aside, should I avert my gaze," he taunted. If it was possible his eyes darkened and became more predatory though no evidence of his demon was visible. She was frightened, but in an exhilarating, heart pounding, exciting sort of way. She was his prey, but it was not a bad thing to be this creature's prey.

She shook her head as he pushed away from the window. He walked toward her his movements smooth, fluid and graceful as if they did this dance every day. He looked so confident, so sure of himself, she hoped that he was feeling some of the nervousness she was. She had doubts about pleasing him this way, making love to him. What if she was inadequate? Surely he had to have some doubts, too.

"You enjoyed dancing with me tonight, didn't you," he asked not quite in front of her yet.


"It was tempting to suggest something lewd like a stop in the bathroom, the alley, or even the back of the Jeep. Would you have gone along with it if I had?"

She paused for a second thinking. Her body screamed yes, she had wanted him for days. If she wanted to be honest with herself she had wanted him once she realized he was back in Sunnydale. She probably never truly stopped wanting him, merely buried the desire because she assumed he was gone for good. This whole celibacy thing had been his idea. She had been ready for him the moment his eyes fell on her after she had come downstairs dressed for the night. He had looked at her as if he wanted to devour her, which had made parts of her tingle in anticipation. She had been uncertain just how he might want to devour but found she did not mind whichever way he wanted to do it. But she knew that if they were going to do this right that they could not start back up the way things had been between them. "No," she whispered, willing him to close the distance between them. She wanted to feel his body against hers.

"No," he repeated his voice rose in question. Did he not believe her?

"No. Not tonight. I don't want sex."

"You don't? Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, and you know what I mean," she murmured as he finally closed the distance between them. She rested her head against his chest her hands gripping his upper arms. God he was magnificent she thought when she felt the muscles of his chest, arms, abdomen and neck flex as his arms moved to embrace her. How had it escaped her notice before?

"I do know, pet," he said, kissing the top of her head. They stood like that with him holding her close, Buffy's head at his chest devoid of the sound of a heartbeat and Spike's head resting against the top of hers. Buffy was getting used to this, these embraces that went nowhere but kisses. She felt cherished and loved and liked the feeling. Spike did not tower over her or make her feel dwarfed. She could rest against him and feel like she fit and yet was safe. For the first time in a long time Buffy felt at peace.

Her hands slid under the button up shirt until they rested at his shoulders, only the T-shirt a barrier to touching his flesh. Her head remained against his chest just enjoying the feel of him as she worked her hands along his shoulders. Her thumbs found each collarbone and skimmed along the length of bone on either side of his neck.

One hand slid to the back of his neck, her fingers ran through his curls before coming to rest at the nape of his neck. Her other hand slid down the length of his arm tracing her fingertip along the back of his hand before returning to his shoulder. She was tempted to bury her hand under the material of the outer shirt again but instead lowered her hand to his chest and torso. She drew her head and body away causing Spike to groan in apparent protest until she started working the few buttons he had fastened on his outer shirt.

Her eyes met his, in awe of the fact that he did seem to be unsure of himself too. She slid her hands around his waist, her eyes never leaving his face as she removed the shirt from his jeans. The shirt finally unbuttoned she placed both hands at his sternum and slid them out to either side causing the shirt to part.

"Off," he said. He groaned in frustration when she shook her head and reached up to kiss him. Her hands explored his chest and abdomen through the T-shirt before working the buttons at either sleeve of the long sleeved shirt. Placing both hands at his shoulders once again she braced herself before sliding the shirt the rest of the way off of him.

"It's off now," she whispered as she placed kisses along his jaw from ear to ear. Her hands worked the T-shirt out from his jeans. He hissed lightly and his abdomen muscles tightened when she slid her hands under the T-shirt to touch his skin. She jerked her hands away, startled by his reaction and expected him to tell her to stop. When no protest came she put her hands against him again.

His hands were at her hair, she had no idea when he had put them there but he was removing the few pins she had used to hold her hair in place for the evening. She became aware of it as she heard the tiny clink of metal hitting the hardwood floor at her feet as he dropped them to the floor. "You've done this before," she whispered somewhat amused and a little jealous that Drusilla probably got this sort of treatment as often as she liked. Buffy could have too, she realized, it was her own fault that she had not before now.

"A time or two," he said amused. "Lots of hairpins back in my day."

"I remember," she murmured, grazing his neck with her teeth.

"I suppose you would." The last of the hairpins removed he ran his fingers through her hair, fanning it out. She groaned softly, her head fell forward and her eyes closed. He was so gentle, it was hard to believe this was the same man she had violent sex with several times in the past year. "You like that?"

"Yes," she said quickly with more enthusiasm than she had meant to.

"Come on then, I'll brush it out for you."


"Been dreaming about it for years. Did it for you at the hospital, but wasn't quite the same."

"I suppose not since I wasn't awake."

He walked to the vanity and retrieved the brush as Buffy walked to the bed and sat. He took off his boots before getting on the bed, propping the pillows behind him. "Well, it wasn't even that you weren't awake," he said, getting comfortable before she moved to sit in between his legs, her back to him.

"What then," she said softly. He set the brush on the bed next to his right thigh. He was apparently making sure he did not miss any pins before starting to brush it because he ran his hands along it once again.

"You wouldn't have been able to relax and enjoy it in that tiny bed," he said, pulling her hair away from her neck and kissed the back of her neck lightly. She shivered under his kiss in part because it was unexpected. His hands went to either shoulder. Cool flesh on warm flesh caused her to shiver again. "Are you cold, pet?"

"No," she whispered.

"Just the evil undead thing making you shiver like that," he murmured before taking a lobe in his mouth. He morphed into his game face and ran his elongated fang along her piercings. She felt him smile as she shivered again. He knew full well this shiver was not because she was cold.

"You're not a thing," she retorted quickly, hating that he said that even as a joke. "And you are a little cold."

"Just a little?"

"Nothing I don't think I could fix."

"I only wish that were true, pet," he said, drawing away from her neck and ear.

She groaned softly at the loss of contact with his mouth. The intense make out sessions had left her a bundle full of aroused nerves more often than not. This time was no different, but she was surprised at just how easily he was able to get her excited. True, it had been a while since they had had sex, but it was still hard for her to believe he had that much power over her body. "Well, not all the time, but sometimes," she said cut short by a stroke of the brush through her hair.

"It's probably better that way anyway."


"Don't deserve it, to feel warmth all of the time."

"Why don't you deserve it?"

"I don't want to get into this tonight, Buffy. I don't want to ruin this. I just can't help but think I'm throwing the balances off kilter here, getting a soul, you forgiving me, you loving me."

"Well," she said with a frown though he could not see it. "Giles or Angel would probably know better as I'm no research expert. It would seem to me that if getting a soul would throw something off that you wouldn't have been able to get it."

"You might have a point," he replied and Buffy could hear the hesitation in his voice.

She tilted her head back in time with a down stroke of the brush and kissed his chin. "Of course I have a point," she said, turning in his arms. She knelt above him, his legs still at either side of her.

He smirked. "Well, pet," he started to say but stopped when Buffy began to remove his T-shirt.

"Are you going to help me out here a little?"

"Sure," he said and sat up from the pillows, allowing her to get the shirt off. She felt his muscles flex with the movement and could not help but stare at him once the shirt was removed and discarded. "Better?"

"Much," she whispered before kissing him. She did not stay at his mouth long, though. She had other places in mind that needed her attention more than his mouth did. She worked her way slowly from his mouth to his chest, alternating between feather light kisses and deep intense kisses that came close to marking his body. She was tempted to leave a trail of Buffy marks from neck to thigh, but some other time. Tonight was about lovemaking not about marking.

She heard him hiss and exhale as her tongue came into contact with a nipple, already erect from being exposed to the room's air. She guided him with her hands so he was flat on the bed, one hand exploring his body while the other teased his nipple while her mouth was attentive to the other.

"Slayer," he groaned when she cupped the bulge in his jeans and gave a gentle squeeze. She was not surprised at how aroused he was already, but it was still a little humbling that she caused the reaction.

Her mouth moved lower from his chest to his abdomen, her hands at either side of her head caressing him. She laughed lightly when she kissed his belly button causing his muscles to tense. She could feel the movement with her hands and it felt weird.

He slid a hand to the front of his jeans and began to work the fly, but she placed a hand at his wrist to stop him. She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his as she drew his hand to her mouth and kissed each fingertip. She drew each finger into her mouth, closing her eyes only once he had closed his. She heard low growls coming from his chest that sounded more like a very content cat than an angry demon. Granted, it would have to be a very big cat but that was the best comparison she could think of just then.

He slid the hand she was not busy with to her face touching her almost as if he was in awe of her. Or like he was making sure she was real. Had he dreamt about her? Dreamt of her forgiving him and being here with him like this only to believe it would never come true? Had he woken up from those dreams only to find himself alone and not yet forgiven? God, she hoped not as much as she would be pleased by the idea he dreamt about her. She did not want to be a source of torment for him these past months. She reached up and kissed his chest right over where his heart was as she worked his belt and the fly of his jeans loose. One last kiss to his chest and she slinked along the length of his body, pushing and tugging his jeans off as she went.


Spike could not help but stare at Buffy as she slid his jeans off his legs, over his feet and dropped them to the floor beside the bed. He was afraid if he closed his eyes again she would disappear, that he would wake up to find this was another of his traitorous dreams. The glimmer of hope that he might feel her again was what had gotten him through the past few months. Time and time again, though, he had woken up from the most vivid and realistic dreams about her, about them, only to discover he was very much alone and left to take care of matters with his own hand or not at all.

Her going down on him was not exactly the way he had pictured their first time together. He had assumed that it would be him doing the seducing, making all of the first moves. She was apparently getting impatient with him. As her mouth sheathed over his painfully aroused length the cat like growl she had been enjoying moments ago came out of his mouth in full force. He was overwhelmed by her gentleness. The growl dissipated slightly as she stroked him up and down using her mouth. One hand clutched at the bedding beneath him to stop from doing something stupid, like forcing himself into her mouth too hard and too deep. The other hand brushed her hair from her face so he could watch.

He had to watch, it was a compulsion he could not resist to watch her. The growl became louder once again when she slid his length out of her mouth. "Slayer," he growled not caring at that point if he was begging or not. He had all night to make love to her, he wanted release now.

"Impatient," she murmured before sliding her mouth to his inner thigh. No prodding on her part was necessary to get him to spread his legs further apart. He felt her blunt teeth against his skin and he wanted more. A hand reached for his erection and enveloped it, stroking his smooth length. He did close his eyes for this and let himself enjoy the feel of her sucking, licking, kissing and biting knowing she was marking him. He had been surprised at her restraint earlier, but she had stopped the love bites short of leaving any actual marks on his neck, chest or abdomen.

Apparently satisfied with her handiwork, she returned her attentions to his erection. He opened his eyes again in time to watch as she licked her index finger and thumb clean of his pre-cum and groaned softly at the erotic picture she made. Talk about the look of the cat that ate the canary, she looked like she had eaten the biggest canary of all and she had not even finished him off yet. As if reading his mind, she took his erection into the warm and moist cavern that was her mouth.

"Buffy," he growled, his voice low, throaty, desperate. She did not stop what she was doing. She merely lifted her eyes to meet his and grazed the spot on his inner thigh she had marked him with a fingertip lightly, sending shivers along his body. He vamped out which did not seem to startle or frighten her. "I'm sorry, pet, I'm not going to last long. Been too long," he whispered arching into her, forcing his length deeper into her mouth. He was too close, too far gone to let her have complete control just then. "Feels too good," he gritted out trying to hold off longer to no avail.

She drank his essence, took it all and kept her mouth around him. She placed gentle, catlike licks along his length as if trying to coax more of his seed out of him. He placed an arm behind his head and watched her still fully dressed as she pulled away from his no longer erect member. Not that she could not bring it right back into working form with very little effort. She placed kisses along his body, working a path up towards his mouth. She did not hesitate to kiss him even though he was still in vampire form.

"Too long. Felt too good," he whispered. "Too fast."

"It's okay. We have all weekend, remember?"

"Oh, right, forgot the li'l bit is gone til Tuesday. But don't think I have any intention of ending the night there."

"I hope not," she teased, reaching behind her to unfasten the fabric at the back of her neck that held the bodice of the dress in place. He watched expectantly as she drew her hands away, each holding an end waiting for her breasts to be presented to him. "But if you wanted to," she said, averting her gaze.

"I think it's a little late for not wanting to," he said with a low chuckle, taking hold of the strips of cloth that had until a minute ago been holding the top of her dress in place. He released them, causing the top to fall. He met her eyes, saw no doubt or uncertainty there, but he had to make sure. "Are you sure, Buffy?"

Her answer was to cradle his head in her hands and bring him to her breast. He went willingly, not much coaching on her part was necessary. He shifted into his human visage before actually taking one of her peaks into his mouth. She jerked away with a gasp and he lifted his mouth from her breast. "Don't you dare," she said softly as she arched into him.

His light chuckle was muffled because of the swell of her breast against his mouth, but she must have felt the reverberations of it and arched further into him. Realizing that she liked it he called upon his beast so that he could growl, let her feel the rumbling in his chest and throat against her stomach. This was not as urgent as their prior couplings had been. Normally, clothes were shed in record time and tossed any which way, if they were removed at all.

He nuzzled each breast before taking each in turn into his mouth, taunting each peak into hardened buds. She made small mewling sounds that grew in volume and in intensity the longer he continued. Had he not already experienced a release he would have there and then because of her reaction to him.

His blunt teeth grazed the underside of a breast and nipped the flesh there causing her to cry out and grasp tightly onto his shoulders. Her fingernails bore into his skin making eight crescent shaped marks no doubt not that he minded. This time was different, it was not about hurting or using one another.

"So sweet, so beautiful," he murmured as he slid his mouth from one breast to the other, his tongue grazing along her skin the entire way. She tasted of vanilla and lavender, her skin was hot to the touch reminding him of an inferno. His inferno. "So hot," he murmured, giving voice to his thoughts and she whimpered her agreement. He knew for a fact Riley Finn never made her burn like this. He suspected Angelus rearing his head after her one time with Angel tempered any heat she might have felt from her time with him.

His hands skimmed along her sides to her hips where he met with the barrier of the bottom half of her dress. He skimmed her taut abdomen with the pads of his thumbs as his mouth traveled lower from her breasts. Her hands at his shoulders eased their pressure, eventually drawing away from him completely. He placed a kiss under her last rib and glanced at her wondering if she suddenly changed her mind.

"What," he queried afraid to ask the question but he had to. That night in her bathroom was still too fresh in his mind to push her.

"Don't you want me to take it off?" He shook his head, grazing her stomach with his chin as he did. She pouted and he had to look away to stave off laughing. "Why not," she asked cautiously.

"Cuz I want to take it off, pet."

"Oh," she said, smiling then. His arms encircled her waist then and he moved them so he was on top of her. "You feel good," she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.

"I'm supposed to, pet. It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, brushing his lips over each eye and then placing kisses to the rest of her face. He saved her mouth for last, lingering there as a man dying of thirst would linger at an oasis. His hands found the delicate zipper at the back of her skirt and she arched herself off the bed as he unzipped it. He broke the kiss to work the dress off her body. "No under garments at all, Miss Summers," he said, more than a little surprised to find she wore nothing under the dress. He certainly was not offended, but had he known she was wearing nothing but that damned slip of a dress all night he might have been more tempted to make his lewd suggestion of a detour in the Bronze's bathroom.

She shook her head on the pillow and smiled up at him. "No, none at all. Is that a problem, William?"

"No, no problem," he said, not bothering with niceties or formalities. He wanted to taste her and wasted no time in doing so once the dress was out of the way. He returned her earlier favor by marking her in the spot on her thigh just as she had done to him. She healed fast and he took that into account knowing no one else would see it anyway. His demon fought to come to the surface as he sucked on her inner thigh near her pulse point.

She placed a hand at his head and seemed to want his mouth at the juncture between her legs, but Spike was not ready yet. He shook his head underneath her hand while at the same time moved a hand from her hip along the crevice where thigh and hip met and slid it between her legs. Inadvertently the pad of his thumb grazed her nub and she cried out, squeezing her legs together. Had he been human he might have been rendered unconscious, but he was not and she eased up after a moment seemingly realizing the strength her legs could pack.

He entered her with one finger then a second. She jerked violently against his hand, her hand at his head moving to clutch his wrist as if she thought he was toying with her and would pull out of her at any minute. He morphed into game face as she cried out, "don't stop." As if he had any plans on stopping. He was not going to argue with her if she wanted to think he was strong enough to get up and walk away knowing, smelling, feeling how aroused she was. Hell, she apparently thought he was a better man than he was.

He pierced her skin with his fangs and drew back using every amount of willpower he had to stifle the demon inside of him. It was pulling on the leash Spike was trying to keep it on tonight. She was bleeding, he did not need to look to know as the scent of her blood now mingled with her arousal. He was not sure he could chance licking the two puncture wounds, she really did not need the coagulant from his saliva anyway given her healing abilities.

"Oh God, please," she said, her hand pushing on his head. Taking her plea to mean she wanted his mouth on her nub and his tongue inside of her, he gladly answered her plea grateful for the distraction. Surely his demon would be quelled somewhat by tasting her this way, even if it was not her blood. The essence of the Slayer was just as powerful as far as Spike was concerned.

"No," she cried out as his tongue teased her hardened nub. He drew his head back, looking at her questioningly. What the fuck did she want then? "Finish what you started," she whispered as she ground herself against the fingers inside of her. He hesitated, of the mind to argue with her, it had been too long since he had fed off of a human and his demon wanted payback for his soul searching trip, he was afraid he would bleed her dry. Kill her. "I trust you, William," she said huskily as if reading his mind.

The growl that had for a little while been more like a housecat's purr grew louder at her trust in him. He had to trust her, too. She had to realize how long it had been since he had tasted the real deal, human blood fresh and warm from the human whose blood it was. He ran his tongue along the two puncture wounds and she spread her legs even further, draping one leg around his back. Trust, he told himself and timed his sinking into her inner thigh with his thumb finding her nub and stroking it. Apparently she liked the dual sensations because she just about launched herself off the bed in reaction.

He could feel the demon coiling through him begging for control but for the moment Spike was stronger. While Spike felt as though he had died and gone to heaven the demon inside of him was livid. He fed from her slow, trying to make it more erotic than anything. He was not going to lie and deny he could very well get off just on tasting her blood like this, but he wanted her to enjoy it, too. If she enjoyed it she might let him do it again. "Love you," she whispered arching into him, simultaneously drawing his fangs and his fingers deeper.

Those two whispered words made him retract his fangs and graze the puncture wounds with his tongue before moving on top of her. "Say that again," he asked, shaking off his demon visage as he slid inside of her.

"I love you," they said in unison once he was inside of her completely. Buffy's legs went around his calves, her hands under his arms clutching his back as if he was not close enough for her liking. Their mouths met, lips parted and their tongues searched and found the other for an intimate dance that mirrored the one lower parts of their bodies were engaged in.

He felt her eyes on him, watching him and broke the kiss drawing away though he did not stop thrusting into her. He had never been so gentle with her and she had never been so receptive to him. "What," he asked a bit nervously. What if she did not like it this way? What if she discovered making love to him was not what she had believed it would be and she needed the other things he was willing to give her but not all of the time?

"Oh god, what, he asks me," she said with a light laugh clenching herself around his shaft. "You feel good. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," he said shyly and buried his head against her neck. The low growling started again and she inclined her head, bearing more of her neck to him.

"Go ahead," she whispered. It was the left side. No marks there. A side of her neck that had been untouched by anyone and she was offering it to him. He had no chance to hold the demon in check with such an offer, she was lucky he had been in control at all. Before her words of approval had completely left her mouth he was already in game face.

She reached her climax as soon as he pierced her neck. He had not realized she was so close to the edge and they had never before toyed with his biting her so he had no idea it would bring her over the edge. She clenched around him, her body producing small contractions as her release went through her and his own climax followed hers closely.

Neither moved, Spike remained on top of her, the only sound, the only movement was of him feeding at her neck. "Spike," she whispered hoarsely. No doubt she would be hoarse, and it was a damned good thing Dawn had not been around. Not that the li'l bit did not know they had sex, but still. "Spike," she repeated and used her Slayer strength to draw him away.

"Let me close them," he whispered, meeting her gaze. For a moment he thought she was not going to allow him to do it, but she nodded her head simply and released his head. He grazed each puncture with his tongue and moved to lie next to her. "That was not part of my make love to Buffy plan," he said, kissing her shoulder.

She laughed and turned onto her side facing him. "I know, but that's why I was okay with it."

"What's that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, it seemed right. I wanted it. I don't know how else to explain it. You wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it. I needed you to do it. It's no fair you know," she said, offering him a pout.

"What's that, pet?"

"I'm going to have these bite marks and my mark on you is already gone."

He shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you, luv. Unless you're going to draw blood, it's just the way it is. It's the thought that counts, though," he said, his arm going around her to draw her against him.

"Covers," she said with a shake of her head.


"I need covers," she repeated.

"Oh," he said, understanding. He released her and she stood from the bed, drawing the bedding back. He joined her under the covers, not that he needed them but it made her feel better when he was under them with her. "Better then, pet?"

"Yes," she said nuzzling her face against his shoulder, getting comfortable.

"Going to sleep on me already, pet? Whatever happened to Slayer stamina?"

"Lots harder with love and blood loss involved," she said kissing him. "I'll be ready for more in the morning though. Promise."

"It's fine, pet. No promises necessary. Was it good? I mean," he turned his face on the pillow to look at her. "Well, was it what you expected? Being love was involved?"

"Better," she murmured, cozying up against him. He felt the heat of her body pressing up against the side of his and he groaned softly. "Down boy," she said with a low laugh. "How about for you?"

"How about for me what?"

"Was it what you expected?"

He was not sure how to answer that, because he was not sure what he had expected. There was no earth shattering epiphany that made this time with the soul different than the others without the soul. "No," he admitted. "It was better. Though I had hoped with the soul I'd have more control." The difference this time had been in her, her response, her ability to let go and accept him. Violent or not, their relationship last year would have been okay had she accepted her love for him and his for her. He sensed even without the soul, he would have enjoyed it immensely had she let go as she had tonight.

"Your control was fine. You wouldn't have let him come through if you thought I'd get mad or if you knew I didn't want him to join us."

"I suppose you're right, pet, but still. Otherwise, though, making love to Buffy was far better than anything we've done before now."

"Good. Me, too," she said and he could tell by her voice that while she was talking she was drifting off to sleep.

"Good night, pet," he whispered kissing the top of her head. She snuggled against him, one leg draping over his leg nearest to her and working its way in between his legs.

"Night," she murmured.

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