DISCLAIMER: The characters are Joss', of course.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Spike and Buffy are finally giving in to their desire for each other…

*************

Chapter 21: Here Comes Santa Claus

She molded to him like a second skin, tiny hands splayed across his chest, thighs clamped around his, hard nipples threatening to prick his back where she leaned up against him. The spread of her legs meant Buffy's juices that had run so freely from her pussy now coated Spike's ass, but it was a tickling sensation the vampire was more than willing to enjoy, to savor along with all the others. His head was swimming with the abundance of Buffy---on him, inside him, all around---and the glimmers of potency her whispering hands promised made him brace against the trembling that was already starting deep inside his groin.

Her mouth was consuming him in flame, and Spike's muscles twitched as she alternately bit and licked between his shoulder blades. "Buffy…luv…" he murmured, and lifted his hand to capture both of hers from the gentle torture on his chest.

The brush of her hair when she stretched to perch her chin on his shoulder made him shiver, and Spike swore he could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke. "You can't be wanting me to stop already," she said quietly. "What happened to that vampire stamina you've been so puffed-up about?"

With a chuckle, he raised her wrists to his mouth and suckled the sensitive skin along the left. "Don't you be fussed 'bout me not lasting," he said. "It's just…" But the words caught in his throat, refusing to obey his command.

Don't be a git, his demon was arguing. The Slayer's not interested in listening to you wax rhapsodic 'bout her charms. Just let her get that pretty little mouth back to work so you can get off before she has a chance to change her mind on the subject.

There was more than a bit of logic in the reasoning. Spike still wasn't convinced Buffy wouldn't do an about-face on the matter of their intimacy; in fact, he was almost shocked that she hadn't done a runner after getting her own rocks off. After all, he was still the same bloke she'd spent the past two years denouncing and demeaning at every opportunity. If he were in her shoes, he'd be doing that very thing.

And before he'd gained an inkling as to how enthralling the Slayer actually could be, Spike would've given her his best it's-been-fun-and-that's-it speech. Well, it wasn't actually a speech. In the past, the speech had been more of a quick kill, but since he wasn't in a position to do that presently, words would have to do.

Or would've had to do, because this was a spot of fun Spike had no intention of losing any time soon.

"It's just what?" Buffy prompted, when his silence lagged for too long.

"It's just…we need to remember 'bout the moptop down below," he finally said. His tongue traced the fine veins of her wrist in a silken path to her palm. "Last thing I'm interested in havin' right now is another bottle break 'cause a certain Slayer couldn't keep her mouth shut."

"You want my mouth shut?" Her bottom lip was jutting out in a pretty pout when she slid around to face him, leaving Spike's back oddly cold in her absence. "And here I had all these plans for it."

His brow quirked. "Oh? Care to share with the rest of the class, pet?"

A wicked gleam appeared in the green. "I'm more of a show than a tell kind of gal," she said. Leaning in to press her mouth to his neck, Buffy straddled his thigh, unconsciously nudging his balls with her knee.

The tease dragged a groan from Spike, and his hands reached to grip convulsively at her waist. "Far be it for me to keep a girl from her natural talents," he managed as her hot tongue slid to his chest.

She must've remembered his reaction from their first kiss. Before he could coax her anywhere near them, Buffy was drawing circles around his dusky nipples, allowing her nails to flick the odd scratch across the charged skin. Each brush made his cock jump, but Spike remained helpless beneath her touch, shuddering when she caught one between her teeth.

"Surprise, surprise," she murmured as she slid further down his stomach. "A vampire who likes to be bitten. You're a walking cliché, Spike."

His mouth opened for a smart retort, but it was arrested by the gasp of pleasure that escaped the moment Buffy's lips wrapped around the head of his cock. She didn't slide down, instead choosing to focus her tongue's attention on the wet tip, swirling around and tasting him with provocative swipes across the slit, and Spike fell back on his elbows as the strength in his arms seemed to disappear.

Knew Soldier Boy was an idiot. How in bloody hell could he walk away from her

?

He lost himself in the sensations when Buffy began to take him deeper, wrapping her hand around the base of his cock to pump what she couldn't swallow in tempo with her hot mouth's assault. So tight, he imagined that she wasn't even aware of how much of her strength she was putting into it, and he moaned in encouragement, wondering if he dared voice that she could go even rougher. When her other hand dropped to stroke the soft skin of his balls, though, his moans turned into words.

"Fuck, Buffy, yeah…like that…suck me…fuck…so hot, so gorgeous, love that pretty little mouth of yours…don't stop…there, like that, god, Buffy, don't know what took us so bloody long…want you…want you…luv…"

She never broke her rhythm. Even when Spike began thrusting up into her mouth, Buffy only increased the pressure, using her tongue along the long vein that ran down the underside of his cock. When more and more of his length slipped past her lips, she dropped her hand from the shaft, letting it join the other between his legs, scratching the soft skin of his inner thigh until even his words began to fail him.

The tightening came too soon, all heat and up and heaven and down, and Spike scrabbled for Buffy's shoulders, tugging to pull her off even as his hips refused to stop their rocking. "Buffy, pet, stop," he begged, and somewhere in the back of his brain wondered who it was that was sounding so desperate.

She slid off his cock with a reluctant swipe, leaving him cold and aching and for a moment resentful of his decision. "What is it?" she asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

His eyes shot open in disbelief. "What? No. Don't be daft."

"Then why---?"

"Because I was about two seconds away from coming, luv."

"I thought that was the whole idea."

"Yeah, but…" Slipping his hands beneath her arms, Spike twisted to his side as he guided her to lie on the mattress next to him. This close, he could see the confused shine in her eyes, but what transfixed him was the soft curve of her bottom lip, still swollen from its rigorous attention to his cock. "Have I mentioned yet how much I love this lip?" he murmured, brushing it softly with the pad of his thumb.

She actually blushed. "I think you might've said something along those lines once upon a time," Buffy said, pulling away to break the contact.

Too far away, he decided, and curled his arm around her back to pull her against him. His kiss, when their lips met, was slow and determined, forcing her to respond when it felt for a moment that she might pull away, exacting as much control over his precarious nerves as he could feasibly manage. He wasn't ready for this to be over, and if Spike had to settle for kissing---though what a way to settle, he could drown in these kind of kisses---while he waited for his threshold to ebb, then that's what he'd do.

"Spike…Spike…" Buffy's hands were on his chest, pushing him away even as she opened her mouth to his.

He tightened his grip, growling against her denial.

"I don't…Spike!"

His eyes opened, and immediately his stomach fell. He knew that look on her face. It was old Buffy's favorite whenever she was talking to him. Or talking down at him, rather.

He knew it was too good to last.

"Kinda spoiling the mood here, Slayer," Spike said. "Thought we were in the middle of something." He'd almost added the word "special" before he caught himself. Wouldn't the Slayer love that, considering her current state of mind?

"Well, I thought I was," she replied. Something was getting her dander up, and while he normally considered that a good thing---there was nothing better than a worked-up Slayer---now, it was getting in the way of some serious shagging. "You stopped me."

Was that what was bothering her? "Because I didn't want to come yet. Told you that." He slipped his hand between their bodies to plunge two fingers into her wet pussy. "In case you didn't notice, I'm holding out for someplace a little…deeper."

Her indignant resolve softened when his thumb started pressing against her clit. "Oh," Buffy breathed. Her tongue darted out to lick her suddenly-dry lips. "I thought…oh."

His cock had never been so jealous of his fingers before, as they pumped slowly in and out of Buffy's spasming heat. "Don't be tryin' to tell me you didn't know what you were doin' to me," Spike murmured. Pressing her back onto the bed without breaking his rhythm, his mouth lowered to the slope of her breast, tasting the salty tang that coated her skin. "Bloody intoxicating, you are."

He almost smiled when she tangled her fingers in his hair to hold him closer. "It's just…" She squeaked when he sucked her nipple against the roof of his mouth. "I haven't…I wanted it to be as good for you…"

"And me almost coming doesn't prove that to you?" he asked, lifting his head. Extracting his hand, Spike threw his knee over Buffy's body until the tip of his cock was brushing against her curls, and his brow dropped until it rested against hers. "Know you said no more talkin' 'bout the exes tonight, pet, so I'll make this quick. Forget about that prat. Forget about all of 'em. Not one of 'em knew what a good thing they had in you."

*************

It was the remarkable similarity to when they'd been under Willow's spell that had first started wigging Buffy out. Spike's fixation on her bottom lip was something out of a dream---nightmare, she hastily corrected---and not something that was supposed to pop up in the middle of a blowjob. Or what would've been a blowjob, if he'd let her finish. She was half-tempted to toss him to the floor and force him to submit to its completion; that's how turned on she'd been on by his response to her.

But then he'd stopped, and what guy didn't want to come?, and the whole trying to distract her with one of those amazing kisses, and Buffy was thisclose to calling the entire arrangement off. She didn't need him toadying over her oral inadequacies once they were out of this place. How would she ever explain that to the gang?

Her body betrayed her the instant his hand had returned to her pussy. She wanted him. Badly. So badly she was ready to admit to Spike just how good it had been for her when she knew that was a bad, bad idea of epic proportions. But she'd stopped herself in time, only to feel the knots inside loosen further when he made that startling, terrifying, electric observation.

She didn't answer him with words. She couldn't. Buffy's mouth was suddenly dry, her throat too tight to work as the depth of what he'd said sank in. Relief that he wasn't looking at her---that those eyes that saw straight through her, hooked their claws and yanked until she had to see it, too, were shuttered behind his admission---made it easier to open her body beneath his, her legs sliding around his hips so that she was exposed for the next step. She almost held her breath when Spike lifted his head to look down at her, and then sighed in pleasure when he pressed forward, past her outer lips, to sink with excruciating patience into her depths.

When she felt his heavy balls come to rest on the curve of her ass, Buffy tightened her legs around him, stilling Spike as she sought his eyes. "We have to be quiet," she reminded him. "I don't want…" She swallowed. "I don't want to have to stop."

He only nodded, leaning in to capture her lips as he began the familiar rhythm of pumping in and out of her pussy.

He went slow, taking his time with each stroke as if he was a connoisseur savoring every taste. To Spike's credit, the bed she'd feared would creak with their movement remained just as silent as he was. He almost seemed to be taking her instruction literally, maintaining a quiet that was too eerie and out of place for the vampire. It forced her attention to his body, though, the way the muscles across his back rippled with every thrust, the way his mouth never stopped worshipping hers with those possessive kisses, the way she could almost imagine that somewhere deep inside he was trembling.

When he brought his hand up to palm her breast, Buffy arched away from the mattress, breaking from his mouth for the first time since he entered her. Spike was having none of that, however, and hooked his other arm behind her neck to keep her head in place, slamming his lips back down in a hunger matched only by his fingers. Desperate, she clawed into his powerful back, raking her nails across the smooth skin, and was rewarded with a near-painful pinch of her nipple that sent shocks straight to her clit.

He surprised her by sitting up, perching her on his lap with his cock buried to the hilt inside her. Buffy broke from his mouth to stare at him wide-eyed, but still, Spike remained mute, coaxing her back into movement with a slight rocking of his hips. As she slid up his length, watching his dark lashes flutter closed for the briefest of moments, his nostrils flare from the overpowering sensations wracking his body, she decided she couldn't take it any longer. It was just too unnatural.

"Talk to me," Buffy whispered.

Though he tilted his head in questioning, Spike didn't stop moving, helping her ride him by directing her hips to the deepest of depths before allowing her to slide back up again.

"Don't want to wake the little nipper," he murmured.

"We won't," she promised.

"And bedtalk's goin' to make this better for you?" There was a devilish gleam in his eye as their pelvises met, and Buffy gulped when his thumb strayed to brush across her clit. "I must be losing my touch." His cock slid away, and her pussy clenched, making him chuckle. "So, then, tell me, luv." He pulled her closer, running his tongue along the curve of her breast to catch the drop of sweat that had collected there, but the fluid did nothing to smooth the husky cadence to his voice. "Tell me what you want to hear."

She clung to him in hungry desperation, his request resounding inside her skull. How could he expect her to think coherently when every stroke, in and out, up and down, was slamming rational thought away to the farthest recesses of her mind? Even such a simple act as kissing the line of her collarbone created havoc with her synapses, firing in so many directions at once that Buffy was sure she was going to fly apart any minute now.

But she had made the appeal.

She wanted it.

She needed it. For some unknown reason.

And so she answered him.

*************

He didn't expect a response. Buffy's reception to their fucking was quickly chasing away all of her famed control, and Spike was exultant that he was the cause of it. There'd been so many hints of the passion that lay beneath the Slayer exterior, and now, to have it shuddering up and down his cock, to have her staring at him in mixed lust and respect, was enough to rouse his own passions to unforeseen heights.

So, when she leaned into him, and settled her sweet mouth at his ear, not once breaking her rhythm, it was all Spike could do not to come on the spot.

"Just you," Buffy said, and her warm breath sent a scintillating tickle down his spine. "All I want…is you."

He growled when she began kissing and biting the sinew of his neck and shoulder, and held her tighter, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, her breasts crushed so close to his chest that, for a moment, Spike thought it was his own heart he felt beating.

When he spoke, he gave no thoughts to the words, just let them come forth in a torrential pulse that flowed over and around them in tandem with their movement. He wasn't even sure what he said---certainly, there were many effusions on how beautiful she was, how good and tight she felt, how bloody marvelous he felt inside her, though what the specifics were, were beyond his grasp---but they seemed to do the trick, because Buffy began to burn even brighter, her skin so hot and slick, he was fighting to hold on.

She was even speaking back, in his ear, against his skin, creating a tattoo of want for Spike that left his flesh feeling branded.

As her orgasm approached, Buffy's pace quickened, squeezing and riding him with tiny sounds that were almost squeaks. With her legs wrapped around his waist, Spike could feel the trembling begin in her calves, creeping upward and inward with alarming haste, fuelling the soft keening until he began to fear of waking the child below. He entwined his fingers through her hair, dragging her mouth away from where she was still attacking his neck and as he felt her pussy contract around his cock, slammed his lips to hers, swallowing down the scream he knew she wouldn't be able to hold as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

Even as it ebbed, though, she didn't slow down, driving his cock in to the base on every stroke until there was no more fighting the tornado inside his flesh. Spike came with a blinding explosion, shooting deep inside her still pulsating pussy, forcing her with demanding hands to remain still as surge after surge echoed within his body. His mouth left hers when he buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in the musky scent of her skin as the sweat that had collected there tickled his tongue, and gave one last shudder when her hands softly caressed the broad of his back.

They stayed like that for several long minutes. Though Buffy had relaxed the hold her legs had around his waist, her arms still clung to Spike's torso, and he luxuriated in the heat that radiated from her center, starting at the tip of his still-hard cock and creeping outward to the very ends of his hair.

Could get used to this. Forgot how good a warm body can feel. Buffy's body. Bloody hell, how could I have known?

He couldn't stop tasting her, his lips sliding across the tender line of her neck, his tongue capturing every essence it could find. But when Buffy twisted to find her clothes lying haphazardly on the floor, it broke him away from the suction of her body, driving his eyes to her face.

She wouldn't look at him. Those tempting eyes, still dark with manifest desire, were jumping between her various articles of clothing, to the edge of the ladder, to the dishevelment of the blankets beneath them, and already, Spike could feel her pulling away, the wall she was so adept at hiding behind resuming its place between them.

"Where are you goin'?" he asked, grabbing her wrist when she finally slid off his cock.

She didn't pull away, but just stood there, staring at his fingers so white against her tan. "Someone needs to sleep downstairs," Buffy said quietly. No word of what had just transpired between them. What had he expected? Spike knew he should count himself lucky for actually getting to come. "Holly might decide to sleepwalk again," she added.

"No reason to babysit the front door," Spike argued. He wasn't going to give in to her stubbornness so quickly. Not without a fight. "Let me block it off. You won't have to fuss 'bout her doing another walkabout."

"She could do anything down there---."

"So I'll stay up and keep an ear out for her." Gently, he tugged, pulling Buffy back onto his lap, and resumed kissing the curve of her neck. "Don't go."

He could feel her hesitation to acquiesce to his request, and pounced on the fact that it wasn't a straight-up no to come hurtling from her fists. "Got a nice warm bed here that's more than big enough for the two of us," Spike continued with a pat to the mattress, as if she needed to be reminded of its presence. "Don't tell me it won't be more comfy than the couch. And a good night's sleep will do your body good."

"You could always sleep on the couch for a change," Buffy said.

His head tilted. "When it's my bed? Don't think so, pet."

"And…what? You want to cuddle?" There was no masking her disbelief, but she still wasn't moving. "That's too weird, even for you, Spike."

He fell back onto the mattress, taking her with him so that they were stretched out along its length. "Not so weird, if you think about it, luv." Turning her in his arms, Spike cradled her against his chest, feeling her ass automatically burrow back into his groin. Carefully, his fingers played with her breast, teasing the nipple back to hardness, and he smiled unseen when Buffy rested her head on his bicep. Already, she was half-asleep, and he dropped his voice to its most soothing rumble as he continued to coax her.

"You can argue about it with me in the mornin'," Spike murmured. "In fact, I'll make sure you do. Can't have you goin' too soft on the Big Bad here, can we?" He nudged his returned erection against her bottom, drawing a quiet moan from Buffy's throat. "I think I'm hard enough for the both of us for now, though."

"Oink, oink, Spike." But she was so close to slumber that it came through with no conviction, quiet and ephemeral in the air between them.

He stroked her hair in delicate sweeps, waiting until her breathing had evened before replying.

"That's my Slayer."

 

To be continued in Chapter 22: Christmas Is Coming