DISCLAIMER: The characters are Joss', of course.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Spike has defeated some wandering vampires and returned to the house to find Buffy awake…

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Chapter 33: I Ain't Been Nuttin' But Bad

Prior to going up to the loft, he'd been savoring the idea of a long, hot shower. Dusting the mom vamp after she'd taken a swipe at his forehead with his own knife---and that was one part of the story Buffy was never going to hear---had left Spike hungry for the pounding rhythm of red-hot water against his skin, the sensations of it scalding him into submission and driving away the worst of the energy that now raced throughout his veins. He'd give himself a good wank, too; he was hard as a rock and the release would do him good.

That had been before he'd seen his Slayer awake in his bed, her eyes flickering with emotion he couldn't recognize but most importantly, open and alert.

Now, he just wanted to get under the spray, get himself cleaned as quickly as possible, and get back to the supple flesh stretched out between his sheets. Hungers had a way of transferring when given fresh opportunity, and god, Buffy was as fresh as they came.

He was still going to jerk off, though. Just to take the edge off.

Leaving the bathroom in complete disarray when he was done, Spike bounded up the ladder, pulling himself over the top rung to see Buffy still awake, Holly sitting on the end of the bed with her legs hidden beneath her nightgown. "Time for little ones to be goin' to bed," he announced loudly.

"Fix her clothes first," Buffy requested.

"Right." With little fuss, Spike scooped the child up and set her on the floor, whipping her nightclothes over her head in a single, liquid motion before inverting it and sliding it back on.

"Arms."

He had to refrain from rolling his eyes, but quickly did as Buffy asked, curling Holly into his arms and heading for the ladder when he was done. "Be right back."

"Don't I have to tell Buffy?" Holly whispered in his ear.

"Tell me what?"

This time, he did roll his eyes. "Nothin'," Spike said. To the child, he whispered back, "You're killin' the mood here, pidge."

"But you said---."

"Forget what I said."

"What happened, Spike?"

Even if she wasn't up to par, there was no mistaking the commanding tone of Buffy's voice. With a put-upon sigh, Spike turned around and shook his head. "It's really nothin'," he said. "Just a little accident with the tree."

"I knocked it over," Holly volunteered. "When Spike was making you all steamy."

"In the bath," he hastened to add. "Steam in the bath. Was just tryin' a bit of spa therapy to try and help you out."

Buffy's lips quirked. "Well, that explains why I'm naked and wet."

The image her words elicited in his head made Spike's cock harden even more inside his jeans, and he bit down on his tongue to keep from dropping the kid right there. "Can I take her down now?" he asked. "These are details I can give you in our…chat, remember?"

He grinned when he saw the Slayer swallow, her heart returning to its pace post-poisoning. This wasn't an effect of any kind of toxin, though. He was damn well certain this was all him.

She gave him no arguments, and before Holly could open her mouth again, Spike slithered down the ladder, toting the child into the bedroom with curt speed. "Not a peep," he said and dropped her onto the mattress. "Me and Buffy have some talkin' to do, and I don't fancy any interruptions, is that understood?"

Holly clambered to the head of the bed and slid beneath the blankets. "You got rid of the bad guys?" she asked as he walked back to the doorway.

"Yeah. All dust."

"And Buffy's going to be better?"

He stopped at that, glancing back to see the expectation in her wide-open face. "Yeah," he replied, his voice softer. "She's a strong one. Doyle wouldn't have trusted you with her if she wasn't. Now, good night, moptop."

"Good night, Spike."

He was halfway out the door when her voice floated up to him again.

"Merry Christmas."

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

She was fighting sleep. Her hands still felt leaden, and her shoulders were weary from what little exertion she'd made in speaking with Holly, but Buffy was determined to stay awake. She knew Spike's very not-so-subtle references to chats meant he wanted sex, but she wanted something else. She wanted answers.

His head appeared over the top rung much slower than it had disappeared, and she felt the familiar pull in the pit of her stomach as Spike's darkened eyes fixed on her through his lashes. "Threatened the little one with dismemberment if she interrupts us," he drawled. "'Course, it'll have to be you who does the slicing. My disciplining her would be a spot easier if she wasn't soddin' human."

He didn't stop as he spoke, reaching the end of the bed and dropping his knuckles to the mattress to continue his journey toward her. "Know what a sight you are, luv?" he growled. The bed bowed beneath his weight, his body all sinew and feline grace as he crawled up her length. "Think seein' you all perky again is the best bloody Christmas gift I could've asked for."

His head dropped at the last, his mouth suckling at the exposed upper curve of her breast. Buffy gasped at the unexpected force of his mouth, her nipples hardening to rasp against her bra. "Awake doesn't mean perky, Spike," she managed to get out.

"Perky enough for me." His hand came up to join his mouth, palming the soft swell before pushing the scrap of lace out of his way. "Don't do that again," he murmured into her skin, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger.

"Do what?"

Spike's denim-clad thigh rubbed roughly against Buffy's inner thigh, pressing into the growing wetness between her legs. "Scare me into thinkin' you're checkin' out," he said. His teeth nipped along her collarbone, and though she had squeezed her eyes shut at the overwhelming sensations that he was creating in her flesh, Buffy opened them again to stare up at him.

"You told Holly you knew I was going to be OK," she said.

The faintest of questions in her voice prompted Spike to lift his head. "Yeah, well, I lied," he replied. "Evil, remember?"

"Was it that bad?" She'd seen the faint discoloration in her hands. What other symptoms had she exhibited that could freak Spike out so badly?

"Could've been worse," he admitted. Settling himself on his side, he coiled his body around hers while he reached for one of her hands. "Got you cleaned up as fast as I could, but pidge said the others all died from it. Wasn't sure how much was necessary to get into your system before it was too late to pull you back."

"Others?" Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Other Slayers?"

"Near as I can figure, they were just baby Slayers, waitin' to get all chosen-like." Briefly, he told her about his conversation with Holly, complete with his own extrapolations of some of her more cryptic statements. "Explains why that Maria bird is gunning for the little one," he finished. "Hell, if I'd known there was something out there as simple as a kid's blood that would take down Slayers…" He didn't finish the thought, his eyes catching the hardening of Buffy's mouth, and Spike laced his fingers through hers to tug her closer to him.

"Just glad you're stronger than those others," he said softly. He ducked his head to brush his lips over hers, pressing the leg he'd thrown over her into her pelvis. Chuckling at the moan she couldn't contain, Spike deepened the kiss, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbling at it between his teeth.

She didn't even have the strength left to push him away, though really, the more he kissed her like that, the less she wanted him to go anywhere. Instead, Buffy pulled back further into her pillow, breaking the seal of their mouths and forcing him to look at her again.

"I might be strong enough to fight the poison," she said, "but that's all on the inside. I can't---."

"You don't have to," Spike cut in. "I've got enough punch right now for the both of us."

"But that won't be any fun for you if I can't…you know…"

He chuckled. "First of all, you and me need to have a bit of discussion about this inability of yours to say the actual words, pet. It might work around the little one, but between you and me, there's no need for you to go all delicate. Big Bad Spike can take a few naughty words, and I've got a feelin', you just might like hearing them as well." He put his hand over her mouth when it opened to protest. "And second, if you think for a minute that I don't get off on you goin' all a-quiver because of what me, my hands, and my tongue are doin' to you, then you haven't sussed me out as well as you think you have, understand?"

She could only nod. Her skin was tingling at the hidden promise in his words, even in the deadened area of her hands, and her throat was dry from the anticipation of what might be coming.

"In fact," he continued, "this might be a good time to get some educating out of the way. Seems to me, talkin' isn't takin' too much of your strength. Am I right?"

Another nod of her head.

"And so long as you don't scream, the little one shouldn't be all the wiser to what's what up here, which satisfies that agreement you're so determined to stick to." Moving his hand away, Spike rolled away and off the bed, hopping to his feet. "I fancy this'll be just as good as what I had in mind," he said, grabbing the hem of his tee and pulling it over his head.

"What?" She couldn't help but ask. The fact that not only hadn't her protestations put him off the sex he seemed determined to have, but had fuelled him even further was both curious and mildly alarming.

OK. And arousing. How could he know that?

"Gettin' you to narrate what I'm about to do," Spike explained. His hands paused at the buttons of his jeans, his eyes glittering in the orange glow cast by the fire from below. "Let's start with an anatomy lesson, shall we?"

Buffy's eyes widened as he slowly began to undo his jeans, the length of his hard cock poking free of the denim long before he'd reached the last button. "I…I can't…" she sputtered, and then swallowed hard when he stepped out of them, kicking the jeans behind him and out of his way so that his erection sprang free.

"Yes, you can," Spike said. "I don't think there's anything you can't do, pet. You just have to set your mind to it. And this…" He was back on the bed, kneeling beside her so that his cock beckoned just inches away from her face. "…is just the beginning."

There was enough residual power in her arm for her to pull away when he took her hand, but Buffy was too transfixed with the desire to touch Spike to stop him from curling her fingers around his erection. He didn't let go, just molded his fingers around hers to guide her movements, all the while locking her in his gaze.

"You see what you do to me?" he rumbled as her palm brushed against the wetness collecting on the tip of his cock. "All I have to do is think about you for a second, and I'm hard. Hell, I smell your bloody shampoo in the air, and it's enough for me to start wanting to bury myself between your thighs. You're in my blood, Buffy. Nothin' I do seems to shake you outta me, and now…" He lifted her hand away from his arousal, up to his mouth, and pressed his lips to her open palm.

He never finished the thought. With her hand trapped in his, one simple kiss to her palm turned into an intimate caress of her fingers, and Buffy squirmed as each swipe across her skin sent an electrical bolt straight to her soaking pussy. "That's…that's not…what I thought…you wanted to be talking about," she panted.

"Oh?" Spike asked, but he didn't abandon her fingers, instead sucking them, one by one, into the warm recesses of his mouth.

"You made it sound like…like…you wanted me to use…you know, dirty talk."

His reply was a bite into the fleshy part of her palm. "Dirty talk's a part of it, pet. But what's most important is that you're not afraid to voice what you want. How you feel." He trailed a path down to her wrist, along the underside of her arm, nibbling at the tender skin of her inner elbow. "Lesson the first. Tell me what you're feelin'."

Each nerve in her skin was throbbing in response to his oral attention, the dulling that had taken control of her hands abating with every bite, every lick, every suck. She didn't think it was possible for her to answer his question with much coherence, and so said the first thing that came to her head.

"Wet."

She felt him smile against her skin.

"Maybe graduating to the dirty talk won't be so difficult after all," Spike drawled. Leaning across her body, he braced his weight on his fist as he uncoiled his body along her length again. "Always knew there was a naughty girl inside that uptight exterior."

Buffy pretended to pout. "I'm not uptight."

"Not any more. I'm takin' full credit for that little transformation, thank you very much."

"It's not all about you, Spike."

"Oh? So your ever-so-eloquent 'you know' is just to charm me out of my pants?" He rolled his hips against hers, his cock grinding against her, the fabric of her panties brushing tantalizingly across her clit. "Got a news bulletin for you, luv. Those pants are long gone."

She moaned when he captured her mouth with his again, sucking down her breath as his tongue demanded entrance. How she wished she had the energy to grab on to the wiry muscles of his back, to lift her legs and wrap them around his pelvis and feel the steel length of his cock sink deep into her soaking cleft. Instead, she had to settle for the deliberate stroking of his hands as they molded over her curves, the brutal hunger of his kiss as he took what he'd wanted since first spying her awake. It left her panting and willing to do just about anything he asked if he would only continue.

"So…" he whispered when he broke away. His forehead rested against hers, as if his head was too heavy for him to lift, and Buffy found herself dizzy from the absence of his mouth. "…in regards to this wet feeling you're testifying to…"

She gasped when his hand slipped between their torsos and tore the outer seams of her underwear, leaving her open and exposed and waiting for him to touch. Any second now, she would feel his fingers delve between her folds, stroking with that expert touch until she was desperate to feel him inside her, and then he would find her clit, and start the want all over again, building and building until her explosive release was inevitable. He had taken her to that brink before, pushed her over with merciless passion. She merely had to wait for him to take her in hand and start the ineludible climb.

It never came.

Buffy's eyes shot open to see Spike watching her intently through his lashes, his nostrils flaring from the exacting control he was maintaining over his body. "You stopped," she said breathlessly. "Why did you stop?"

"Lesson the second. Tell me what you want."

If she'd had the strength, she would've thrown him off and straddled his lean hips, taking him in deep with full force and ridden him until he was screaming for his own release. But she didn't, and if she was going to find any cessation of the fire he'd started burning inside her flesh, Buffy knew what she had to do.

"I want…" She swallowed. What exactly did she want?

His cheek brushed against hers as he nuzzled at her neck. "You can do it, luv," Spike murmured. "Just tell me. Nothin' you can do or say's goin' to make a whit of difference 'bout how I feel about you. There's nothin' for you to be afraid of."

"Touch me."

"Where? Here?" His hand left where it had been hovering at her hip to whisper along the curve of her waist.

Buffy giggled from the unexpected tickling. "No."

"Then…here?"

Fingertips followed the line of her lower ribs, stopping at her sternum to stroke her stomach in maddening precision.

"No."

The touching stopped, and Spike's eyes returned to her field of vision, dancing with amusement. "Need to be a tad more specific then, pet," he said. "I could play hit or miss all night."

Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. He was actually going to make her say the words. Not that she didn't think the words but verbalizing them was an entirely different matter. "Touch my…my…pussy," Buffy finally whispered, and ducked her gaze away from his. "Please…"

"Well, since you asked so nicely…" And then his hand was back on her hip, sliding across her pelvis to brush away the last scrap of her underwear, his fingers slipping into her wetness with the familiarity he'd gained over the past few days. "Is this what you wanted?"

Eyes fluttering shut, Buffy sank into the sensations his touch was eliciting, a maelstrom of color and light that left her body pounding and throbbing for more. "Yes," she hissed, and moaned when his mouth returned to her breast, this time sucking her nipple hard against the roof before catching the tip between his teeth. "Harder," she whispered, gasping when he obeyed. And then… "Fuck me, Spike. Please…I want…just fuck me."

Though his hand never stopped, she felt his head and shoulders pull away, and opened her eyelids to see him gazing down at her in concern. "I wasn't goin' to go that far," Spike said. "You're still recovering. I was just…you don't have to do that for me."

Buffy shook her head. "I'm asking for me. This is what I want. That's what your little lesson was all about, right? And I don't have a problem with you taking control." She smiled, memories of the previous night in front of the fireplace flooding her head. "I don't always have to be on top, you know."

The slow cant of his smile mirrored hers, and the worry that had hardened his features dissipated. "Guess I can do that then," he said. Grabbing her wrist, he lifted her arm to help her wrap it around his shoulder, drawing him in closer to her torso, the hardened tips of her nipples tickling across his bare chest. "Think makin' love to you is turning into my favorite pastime."

Briefly, her mind registered the shift in terminology, but the implications were lost when Spike's fingers disappeared, to be replaced by the probing tip of his cock. With the unhurried hunger of a man for whom time didn't matter, Spike pressed forward, stretching her with every inch he sank. The hand she could barely command felt the muscles in his back flex as he fought with such desperation to take it slowly, and she voiced the question before she could think not to.

"How?" Buffy whispered.

It didn't break his rhythm, as excruciatingly slow as it was, but he did break away from where he'd been suckling at her neck to gaze down at her. "How what?" he asked.

"You were so wired. I saw you. But now, and this…" She gasped when his pubic bone ground into her clit, his balls brushing against her ass for the longest moment before he began to slide out again. "You're holding back," she went on, "and I don't get…how you can."

"Easy. Can't hurt you."

"Pounding isn't hurting."

"Is that what you want?"

"What?"

"For me to pound into you. For you to feel bruised and exhausted from feeling me plough into that sweet little quim of yours. Is that what you want?"

She had thought so. When he'd begun touching her, and the desire had swelled to proportions Buffy was beginning to recognize as her typical Spike want threshold, she'd thought all she wanted was to forget about recuperating and lose herself in the frenzy of fucking him.

But now, with each delectable glide just as savory as the last, that feeling of being full and stretching to accommodate him and knowing that he was trembling with every bit of the same too muchness that she was…Buffy thought differently.

"This is what I want," she said. "I just…I love the way you feel. How…full you make me feel. Like…like…this is the way it's meant to be."

He kissed her at that, his mouth honeyed and warm, and she clung to him with all the strength she could muster. "Could keep this up all night," Spike murmured when their lips parted. "Take it nice and slow, and make it last." His head tilted, his eyes black and solemn as he seemed to weigh his next words. "The way it's meant to be."

A jolt of…something…shot through Buffy's chest. "I changed my mind," she said, and brushed her mouth across his. "That's what I want."

 

To be continued in Chapter 34: Rocking Around the Christmas Tree