- FIC: Autumn Sunsets – 1/5 (NC-17 overall)
- FIC: Autumn Sunsets – 2/5 – (NC-17 Overall)
- FIC: Autumn Sunsets – 3/5 – (Overall Rating: NC17)
- FIC: Autumn Sunsets – 4/5 – Overal Rating: NC17
- FIC: Autumn Sunsets – 5/5 – Overall Rating: NC17
A/N: Okay, everyone. Here it is. The last chapter.
I haven’t seen Harry Potter yet. The early show was sold out, and it’ll be past my post-date by the time we get back from the later one. Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed. I hope to reply individually to all the lovely comments between later tonight and tomorrow. Thank you so much.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
He smiled awkwardly and leaned against the door. “Sorry the day din’t go like you planned, sweetheart.”
She glanced down and licked her lips. “Of all the days, huh? My dad shows up, my mom gets plastered…even Giles, who is supposed to be the grown-up. Though he did drink a lot last year.”
He grinned. “’m surprised it took him that long to take a likin’ to booze,” he said. “What with puttin’ up with you, an’ all.”
Buffy smirked. “Thanks.”
“Jus’ sayin’, I think you need to leave the vampire slayers to the vampires.” His eyes flickered passionately. “One in particular.”
The smirk died into a smile, and she threw her head back thoughtfully. “I think we should just go away next Thanksgiving.”
Spike perked a brow of interest. “You an’ me?”
She nodded. “Somewhere far, far away where the turkey is pre-prepared and all we have to do is show up.”
“’m game if you are.”
“You think we can just escape bad karma like that?”
“Honestly, luv, I think people create their own karma. You were so bloody determined to have everythin’ go right today that you did everythin’…well…”
“I din’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“Well, I won’ pretend to understand where your ideas for thawin’ a turkey came from.” He grinned. “You wanna go away now?”
“Little late, isn’t it?”
“Never say never around a vampire, Slayer.”
“Why am I putting up with this again?” she asked. “Hell, why are you? You spent forever on that dinner, and they’re throwing it around?”
Spike shrugged. “Doesn’ matter to me.”
“Oh, come on. It has to matter.”
He opened his mouth to object, then glanced down with a sheepish shrug. “Well,” he said, “maybe a li’l. I’m more brassed off at the fact that they ruined somethin’ that you practically worried yourself sick over. They din’t seem to appreciate that at all.”
“It’s my dad’s fault.”
“Yeh. An’ your mum’s.” When she shot him a warning glance, he shrugged and stepped forward. “She knew how important this dinner was to you.”
“I didn’t get all wiggy around her like I did with you,” she said. “I didn’t let her know how freaked out I was about everything. I didn’t want her to step in and take care of everything…this was supposed to be me proving that I could do something on my own.”
Spike perked a brow. “Which is why you made me do everything?”
Buffy glanced down. “Shut up. I said I wanted to do it on my own…that didn’t mean I could actually do it.”
A smile flickered across his face. “Has it really been so terrible?”
Heat seared her skin and she cleared her throat. “No,” she said. “Well, I…I ummm, would have liked my guests to have eaten, rather than wear the food. A-and my dad showing up was kind of a buzz kill. But…there was that…that other thing.”
God, he was so close. She wanted to reach for him but found herself inexplicably nervous, and somewhat embarrassed about her wanton behavior downstairs. Honestly, she didn’t know what had come over her. She knew she wanted Spike; hell, she could even concede to liking him a bit. Or, yes, okay—she acknowledged that the word like was a little loose. There was another word, four-lettered that similarly began with l that she was partial to. Still, big step. Very big step. Loving Spike meant something else for her entirely. It meant giving up the promises of Angel coming back into her life, telling her he was a dolt for having left her, and whisking her off into the sunset.
And yes with the lame. The prospect didn’t even appeal to her anymore. She had no idea when she had stopped pining for her former great love, but it had happened somehow. Somehow, she had grown up.
Every girl went through this. There was the man that taught her to love, and the man she would love for the rest of her life. Angel had taught her to love, but he was too clumsy to know what to do with it when she gave it her all. Furthermore, she couldn’t see Spike ever hurting her the way Angel had—a huge acknowledgement, considering one of them was sans soul. And that much was hard to remember at times.
Thing was, should Angel burst through her door right now, open his arms and declare himself curse-free, Buffy didn’t imagine herself particularly inclined to rush passed the vampire standing with her now. She had lost the girl and gained the woman in a course of a few years. Angel was never meant to be her forever. He had done what was needed: he had wizened her to the ways of the world when it came to love. He had taught her something valuable, and while she didn’t regret their relationship—other than that whole evil thing—she certainly didn’t pine for days of old.
She had loved Angel as a child, and now that she was older and wiser, she could see how wrong he was for her. He was all responsibility, order, and discipline. He was the perpetual adult.
Buffy was reckless, carefree, hopelessly romantic, and yes, while she did occasionally carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, she didn’t let herself get bogged down in detail work. Spike was the same. They were equals in every way. And they both had a tendency to crash head first into love and be no better for it afterward.
Perhaps that was because they had tried with the wrong people. Perhaps they were meant, cliché and all, for each other.
Buffy rather liked that idea. Angel had inspired the girl to grow up and leave the man that had made her so that she could love the man she was meant for. She couldn’t begin to fathom ever hurting Spike the way Dru had hurt him, nor could she ever see Spike giving her the brush-off in manner of his grandsire.
“What are you thinkin’, luv?”
She licked her lips and met his eyes, releasing a deep breath.
He loves you. He said so. You heard him.
“I’m thinking…” She slid her hands up his arms and smiled coyly. “Spike…”
“I think I kinda love you.”
Spike drew in a sharp breath, his eyes swallowing her with warmth and awe. “What…what did you say?”
Buffy smiled and kissed him tenderly. “I don’t know when it happened, I just—”
“Say it again.”
There was a desperate note in his voice that she had never heard before, and it occurred to her how serious this was for him. Their time together had revealed some unpleasant truths about his past, and while he’d never come out and said it, she knew that love was something he felt himself incapable of obtaining. That while affection might exist, love itself was something to remain perpetually out of his reach. No one would ever love him the way he loved—with the fullness of his being. They had wasted so much time with other people when what they needed was each other.
Buffy cupped his cheek and brushed her lips over his again. “I love you, Spike,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.
He released a ragged breath against her throat. “Oh God,” he murmured.
She felt her heart hammering against his unanswering chest, felt his erection pressing into her stomach. “Spike…”
“I love you,” he gasped. “God, I love you so much. I jus’… I never thought…”
His mouth found her throat, whispering soft kisses against her skin as he walked her backward toward the bed. “Need you,” he murmured, suckling at her.
“Buffy, please…” His teeth gently scraped at her flesh, and her body shivered in response. “I can’t…”
Buffy released a shuddering breath as her legs met the edge of the mattress, and she sat on instinct. Spike gazed down at her, and it occurred to her that he was waiting for her to speak.
“So lovely,” he murmured, his eyes raking her hungrily. “Sweet?”
Actions are better than words, she thought. Which is good, because you seem to be running low on words.
She fisted the hem cotton of her turtleneck.
There was a crash somewhere below them and an influx of swearing. Spike’s gaze remained glued to hers.
A grin twitched at her mouth. “They’re not gonna miss us anytime soon, are they?”
“Don’ reckon so, luv.”
“And it’s pretty hot up here…” The room was actually fairly temperate, but she didn’t think he’d object if she took her top off. Rather, his eyes followed the rising hemline of her shirt until her clad breasts were revealed, and she could’ve sworn she heard a whimper just for showing off a little skin. “Do vampires get hot?” she asked innocently.
Spike’s eyes were glued to her boobs. She could’ve asked if he was into anal penetration, and he wouldn’t have heard a sound.
He licked his lips. “Bloody gorgeous, you are.” He raised his gaze slyly. “’m sorry, luv, must’ve zoned. Did you say somethin’?”
She shrugged in all innocence. “Guess it’s not important.”
“Does it involve ditchin’ the bra? ‘Cause I’d say that’s important.”
She smirked. “Well, I was trying to segue into you losing clothing…”
Spike’s gaze flashed. “All you have to do is ask.”
“I wasn’t asking. I was segueing. I was trying to be all with the seduction and you—”
“Jus’ flash those titties an’ I’m yours.”
She rolled her eyes. “Men.”
“Yep,” he agreed, thoroughly unashamed.
“Do vampires get hot?”
“Was that the segue?”
“Can’t put anything past you, huh?” She glanced down. “Still no with the seduction?”
Spike grinned and peeled off his tee. “I dunno, luv,” he replied as though taking on a character. “Cold blooded creatures tend to adapt to their surrounding’s. Guess it depends on how hot you are. An’ judgin’ by the commotion in my trousers…”
Buffy’s eyes fell to his crotch on cue. “Mmmm…any chance you can lose those, too?”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he purred, nodding to her bra.
She smirked and reached behind her back. “And here I thought you’d wanna be the one to do this.”
“I’d probably rip the bloody thing, I want you so much.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” She paused awkwardly. “It’s not…you know…I haven’t been with anyone in over a year and I wasn’t…ready…like I haven’t been to Victoria’s Secret in ages and—”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Buffy—”
“I don’t have sexy underwear. I-I never wore it well. It’s all itchy and it gets stuck in places where no underwear should…get stuck.”
He smothered a grin. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, stripping his jeans down his legs as he kicked off his shoes. “An’ adorable. Like I give a fuck about sexy underthings. I’d rather you wear nothin’ at all.”
Her eyes widened as she watched his cock bob against his stomach. Mmm. Yummy. A fresh rush of lust surged through her body. “Huh’s…what?”
“See anythin’ you like?”
Buffy pointed. Spike burst out laughing.
“God, I love you.”
She met his eyes coyly. “I love you, too.”
“An’ you still haven’ shown me your goods.”
“You sure you don’t wanna rip it? If we’re going to the mall tomorrow after Mom gives me her plastic, we might be able to stop by and get some sexy underwear.”
“Aww, Slayer, I’m touched you’d suffer through physical discomfort to feed my sexual appetite.”
She made a face. “Only on special occasions.”
“With us, it’s gonna be special all the time.”
“You callin’ me a liar?”
“No, I’m calling you a sap, deaf boy.”
“I thought we’d already diminished the boy theory, luv.” He ran his hand over his cock enticingly. “Or do you need to be reminded?”
Stop drooling. “Yes, remind me, please.” Buffy sat back on the bed and thrust her breasts forward, donned in her unsexy bra. “Remind me until I can’t walk.”
“My pleasure.” Spike knelt before her immediately, his fingers flickering the straps of her cacique. “Slayer…”
“Off with it!”
“What would you wear to the mall?”
“I do have more than one bra, you know.”
The flimsy garment concealing her from him snapped cleanly in two with a good tug. He palmed her breasts reverently, his mouth bestowing a series of kisses across her liberated flesh as his fingers played with her nipples. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to destroy them all,” he murmured.
Buffy grinned and ran her fingers through his hair. “I have absolutely no intention of letting you destroy all my underwear.”
Spike’s lips wrapped around one of her nipples while his fingers manipulated the other. She threw her head back with a loud gasp and thrust her hips forward, her body falling back to the mattress. “I think,” he mused thoughtfully, his mouth departing southward with a series of heated kisses that commanded her to instant goo with each brush against her skin. “Under the circumstances…you might be willin’ to never wear knickers again.”
“Don’t count on it.”
He paused from where his unoccupied hand was prying at her trousers and glanced up at her challengingly. “Y’think so?”
There was something dangerously sensuous behind those devious eyes of his. A thrill raced down her spine and she squeaked ineloquently. “Oh no. No, whatever you’re thinking, stop.”
“Nope. Don’ think I’ll be doin’ that.”
“You smell delicious,” he informed her, both hands now tugging on her slacks. “Good enough to eat.”
He waggled his brows at that, and her body turned into a molten puddle of slayer-putty. The dominant part of her, though—the terrified amateur—screamed in protest and demanded that she retract to that dark place of inexperience and rejection. “Spike, you don’t…”
Damn, he really tore those panties clean off her body. There one second, gone the next. He could be a traveling magician with a trick like that. Well, okay, she wasn’t a big fan of the print on those, anyway. And as long as she was buying new bras…
Buffy gasped aloud and bucked against his face when he licked up her slit. “Oh my God!”
“Mmm,” he rumbled into her, “no, I really think I do.”
“Oh my God…oh my God!”
That earned a chuckle. Ohh, vibratey. “Pushover,” he teased, nibbling at her outer folds. His index and middle fingers, eager to be included, slipped inside her pussy, and they both moaned as she contracted around him. “Fuck, baby…”
“Oh…what are you…”
“So bloody tight.”
“Unh…” She squeezed him again, her eyes falling shut as he wrapped his lips around her clit and suckled her into that magical mouth of his. “You…”
He chuckled again, his tongue tracing her wet flesh with a concurrent hum of approval. “See I’ve made you lose mastery of the English language…what little you had, anyway.”
It occurred to her distantly that now was the appropriate time to be offended. “You…oh my God…you…asshole!”
“Hey, I’m jus’ glad that I still got it. Been outta practice, y’know.”
Jealously unlike anything she had ever before experienced overwhelmed her, sending sharp stabs of pain to her belly. Imaginary pain, yes, but real enough to hurt. Buffy fell completely against the mattress, her legs somehow ending up draped over his shoulders. “I don’t wanna know about that,” she spat, only the words were timed evenly with several long moans as he suckled her labia between his teeth. “I…Spike!”
“Never like this before, Buffy. Not with anyone.” He nibbled lightly at her clit, his fingers thrusting steadily within her. “You taste so good.”
The irrational swell of anger was diminishing. “Really?”
“Mhmm…” He lapped another long path up her slit, his eyes rolling back. “So good.”
“You’re mine,” he growled, that miraculous organ inside his mouth flicking her clit rapidly. “Mine now. You understand?”
“Say it.” His fingers abandoned her then, his tongue plunging inside her before she could hiss in complaint. He swallowed her whole and her body went up in flames. It didn’t last—it seemed he was intent on torturing her until she was nothing but Buffy the Vampire Sex Slave. He slipped out of her pussy, licking at her twice and nipped at her clit again. “Say you’re mine, baby.”
His fingers were thrusting within her once more, harder this time. The pleasure was so sweet she thought she might fall apart for the feel of it all. “Would you say that with my fangs inside you?” he asked.
“Yes! Oh, yes!”
“Would you let me bite you, luv?”
“Ohhhh…oh my God, Spike, oh my God.”
He evidently took that as hesitation and not the fact that she was completely at his mercy. He blew a stream of cool air against her sensitive skin, spreading her pussy lips wide. Buffy cried out and arched off the bed, thrusting herself wantonly against his face.
“I’d make it so good for you,” he promised, bathing her with his sensuous tongue in several seemingly endless licks. He eventually zeroed his attention on her clit again, manipulating her, stimulating her, torturing her until he finally tugged the tiny bundle into his mouth once more.
He released her and rubbed his face against her wet flesh. “I want you so bloody badly,” he murmured, running his hand over her pussy, his thumb settling over her sensitive pearl and stroking her deferentially as his tongue found home inside her again.
There were no words for the sensations he unleashed. Nothing whatsoever. He was licking her from the inside out, whispering sweet nothings against her skin, telling her how good she tasted, how much he loved her, how this was it for him; how there would never be anything else. Every time his fingers swept over her, his eyes clouded over with awe and landed on her face, as though he expected her to disappear at the drop of a pin. There was nothing but this feeling. The wondrous feeling of being absolutely cherished. She had never known it could be like this. Never.
He pinched her clit. “Would you?”
She arched into him, a small sob of pleasure bursting through her lips. “Would I…what?”
“Let me bite you.” He lapped at her eagerly, massaging her clit with a bit more fury. “Let me taste that part of you.”
“Really?” Spike arched a brow. “You would?”
“Would you let me…would you let me claim you?”
That question didn’t harbor his usual confident swagger, but it succeeded in catching her thoroughly off guard. And perhaps that was why he abandoned pursuit so quickly, his mouth plundering her pussy with new intent, grunting his approval into her skin. He plunged his tongue back inside her tight, wet hole, and thrust inside her until the symphony building within her erupted. Her back curved off the bed as the world disappeared around her. It was a sensory explosion, unlike anything she had ever experienced. And when she fell back to earth and found his arms curled around her waist, she knew then that whatever he asked she would freely give.
After all, what was an eternity here or there if she could spend it in his arms?
Spike stirred at that, resting his chin against her belly and meeting her eyes. “Did you like that?”
“I’m saying it again: I am your bitch for life.”
He chuckled, though the laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s all a bloke can ask, baby,” he said.
“Not quite. You asked me something else.”
Spike drew back at that and shook his head. “No…I…I was caught up an’…we jus’…I din’t mean for that to come out. It jus’ did. Watchin’ you…tastin’ you come…goes to a bloke’s head, yeah?”
Buffy paused, her heart all but stopping. “So…you didn’t mean it?”
“What?” He blinked dumbly. “Bloody hell, yes, I meant it! I jus’…you…”
Her body warmed with relief. “Ohhh…oh, good. Thank God. Yes.”
“Yes. Claim me.”
He was looking at her as though she’d sprouted a second head. “You do know what a claim is, don’ you, luv?”
“It involves me biting you.”
She nodded encouragingly.
“…an’ taking blood.”
“An’ makin’ you mine.”
“Thanks. I thought we covered that by answering yes to the first question, but I appreciate the review.”
He sighed, exasperated. “Buffy, this is serious.”
“I know. I’m serious girl.”
“You don’ know what you’re sayin’.”
“Funny, I don’t seem to be speaking a different language.”
“It’s binding. It’s marriage without divorce. It’s—”
“Spike, please. Really, I am the Slayer. Give me a little credit.” She cupped his face and smiled. “I know what a claim is. I do. I know what I agreed to when I said yes.”
“Why are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“Because I don’ want you to do this an’ then realize you made a big bloody mistake an’ hate me for the rest of eternity. I couldn’t bear it.” He shook his head soundly. “We love each other. For somethin’ this big, we can—”
“Are you even listening to yourself? There are a thousand reasons to not do this, I’ll admit…but they’re all based on what-ifs. I love you. That’s not going to change.”
He was gazing at her with such adoration that she wanted to weep. “How can you know? You haven’t loved me that long.”
“Yes, I have. I just said the words today. The other part’s been coming for a long time.” She kissed him soundly. “I don’t leave the ones I love, Spike.”
“Even when I should. I should’ve left Angel long before he left me. I didn’t.”
“You can’t know that—”
“But I do.” She placed a hand over his nonbeating heart. “I love you so much…in ways that I never…this feels right. It feels right. And either way, Spike, my life doesn’t allow for what-ifs. I love you. You make me happy. That won’t change. It will never change.”
“We’ve only been together for a half hour, if that.”
“We’ve been together for a long time…just without confessionals and earth-shattering orgasms.”
He smirked a bit at that. “You’re soundin’ like Anyanka.”
Buffy grinned lightly. “Can’t you believe that I love you enough to do this? If you notice, I haven’t been wigging out over the possibility that you could lose interest after a century or two and—”
He growled at the thought. “Never happen.”
“I know. I know. With you, I know. I know the way you love…I know. I’m not as blind as some people think.” She kissed him. “And hey, I’m Miss Insecure, so if I can admit that much, the least you can do is give me the benefit of a doubt.”
There was a long silence as her words washed over him. As his protests and counters dulled to the higher reality of what she was saying. The change took him slowly. Disbelief faded to reason, reason to hope, and hope finally to amazement. “You really want this?” he asked, his voice slow and his tone cautious. As though a wrongly accentuated word would pave the pathway for retraction. “Really?”
“Hello! What have I only been trying to beat into that thick skull of yours for the past—”
“You really wanna be my mate?”
She was engulfed in warmth. There was no way any woman could be at the receiving end of the love glowing from his eyes and not melt on cue. “Yes,” she replied softly. “Yes. That’s what I want.”
He nearly choked with awe. “You’re an amazing woman, Buffy.”
“Hey, I just know what I want.”
“I’ll never forgive myself if I bollocks this up.”
Spike perked a brow. “This is me, we’re talkin’ about here.”
“Yes…and me. We screw up colossally all the time.” She blushed. “The holiday is a testament to that in itself.”
“But we usually screw up together. And you’re there to pace me when I get a little crazy. I’m here to help you when…well, you need a place to hide when the debt collector’s come to repossess your crypt.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, for Chrissake…one time, that happened. One time. I’m gonna be hearin’ about it for the rest of eternity.”
She giggled. “Think you can handle it?”
A warm smile spread across his lips, and he leaned inward to taste hers. “Lookin’ forward to it,” he murmured.
She took him by surprise then; completely threw him off his game. Her blunt teeth latched into his neck, biting him hard until she felt his blood spill into her mouth, his body trembling against hers as a long, sensuous moan tore from his lips. He held onto her as though the world was trying to rip him away, panting harshly and finally releasing a grunt of complaint when she drew back.
“Mine,” she murmured, a jolt surging through her body. So strange how that one little word could change so much. She would never understand it—she never had. Words were words, after all, and the only way they got their power was through the power she gave them. Yet that word did something to her. She felt her essence tugged around his, matching and trying to merge. She was only allowed acceptance when Spike whimpered yours, and the world around her dissolved in warmth.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, throwing her head back as he coaxed her to scoot up the bed. Then he was on top of her, cradled between her thighs, his cock rubbing her sodden folds as his hands cupped her breasts. She felt as though a gate had opened somewhere and bathed her in gold. There was nothing in the world like this. Nothing.
Ragged pants wracked his body, his face buried in the crook of her throat. “Yours,” he murmured again.
Then his fangs sliced into her skin as his cock sank inside her pussy, and Buffy swore she saw stars.
“Mine,” he growled lightly into her skin, licking the small wound closed as he withdrew himself from her body before sliding into her again. The dualism of sensation claimed her wholly; small bursts of euphoria shooting through her system as she clutched at his head and thrust herself against him. “Mine! Say it.”
“Yes! Yours! Oh, God!”
Spike met her eyes with awe, pumping sweetly into her body. “Oh, Buffy…”
He pressed his brow to hers. “Are you okay?”
“Good!” she agreed, arching herself into his touch as his hands found her breasts again. There was nothing around her, she decided. Nothing but Spike, moving inside her. Moving over her. Feeling his abdomen brush against hers with every thrust. The slick glide of his length as he pumped into her, his skin on her skin; his body in hers. Small jolts of electricity claimed her nerves and she clutched at him desperately. The tables had turned; now it was she who feared to be ripped away. To be denied this. To be torn from his side.
“Never happen,” he murmured, licking at her throat as he tugged at her nipples. “Never. You’re stuck with me, now.”
“Ohhh…” His cock was striking her at an angle she hadn’t thought possible, his balls slapping against her ass as his thrusts gained momentum. “Ohhh! Did…I…say that out loud?”
He chuckled, and damn if that didn’t feel better with him moving inside her than it had when he licked between her legs. The movement sent rumbles through his body, claiming her own in small vibrations from the inside out.
“Oh my God!” she gasped.
“Claims have more perks than one, sweetling.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
He chuckled again, then again when she moaned. “We’ve been claimed all of—”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Spike cooed in pleasure, one hand abandoning her breast to dip between their thrusting bodies, sliding over her sex. “Fuck, I love you,” he murmured, mouth capturing her abandoned nipple and suckling her between his teeth.
“You’re so tight, baby. So warm. So bloody perfect.”
“You feel like sunshine.” He bit into her breast lightly, though she knew that her gasp wasn’t in pain. Rather, her vaginal muscles tightened around him as his thrusts grew faster. “So good. So bloody good.”
His fingers were playing her like a harp, stroking her clit gently. She felt her stomach tighten, pinpricks of ecstasy blazing across her skin. Felt the symphony he had inspired through her blood just minutes ago rising again for a repeat. She lost herself with every parry. His flesh molded her, sliding against hers as his mouth worshipped her skin. He found her mouth again as sensation tightened and threatened to erupt. She wanted to prolong it; wanted to sustain the feeling of Spike captured within her. But God, he was massaging her clit furiously, his cock surging into her with desperation. A slow crescendo took her by storm.
“I love you. I love you.”
“Yes!” she gasped, clutching at him desperately.
And he did. She tumbled into a detonation of euphoric release. His fingers on her clit, his body crashing into hers, his fangs buried in her throat, and she was lost. Consumed in a fire they had created together. She tightened around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he spilled himself inside her, thrusting desperately to grasp everything there was to take. The world could have ended then, and she wouldn’t care. All was buried in completion. And as their hips rocked to a still together, she knew there would be no greater sweetness.
Hours later, she felt his fangs slide out of her throat. Felt his warm kisses brush across her skin. Felt him tremble as he asked, “Are you all right?”
What a silly question.
Spike met her eyes with a wary grin. “I’ll say.”
“I just…I’ve never…”
“You’re amazin’, is what you are.” He nuzzled her throat delicately, licking sweetly at her skin. “So amazing. I’ve never felt anythin’ like that.”
“An’ you’re mine, now.”
The words made her body positively hum. “Yes.”
“God…I love you.”
A wide smile spread across her lips. “I love you, too.”
Spike grinned, the hand between them stirring as he slid his fingers over her clit again. “An’ I’m beginnin’ to understand why Americans love this holiday.”
“I know why I do.”
“Next year, we gotta teach you some better songs.”
“Next year, we’re going away.”
His grin turned roguish. “I can’t wait.”
“Me either,” she agreed. Then paused, smiled slyly, and flexed her vaginal muscles around him, earning a long whimper. “Though if you wanna take me now, I’d be cool with that.”
He perked a brow, panting softly. “Take you, huh?”
He smirked and shifted, his cock hardening. “Take you now, you say?”
Buffy moaned and nodded, thrusting herself against him wantonly. “No time like the present.”
Spike lowered his mouth to her breast as he began moving within her again. “Truer words were never uttered.”
“You know, this stuffing’s pretty good,” Hank said from where he was reclined against the wall, eating directly from the casserole dish. “It’s very…buttery.”
“Should try the steak,” Giles mumbled. “How’s come no one ever told me vampires can cook? I-i-it’s not in my books…that’s for bloody sure.”
Something crashed on the floor above them.
“No, no, no, not again,” Hank complained, covering his ears.
“Vampire stamina,” Giles said, giggling. “She’s in for quite a ride.”
“That’s my daughter you’re talking about,” the other man said indignantly.
The Watcher nodded. “Yeah, and she’s getting her brains shagged out by a bloody bloodsucker. How about that for irony?” He laughed again richly, then promptly passed out on the table, landing face-first in what was left of the green-beans.
The walls were beginning to moan.
“Buffy screams like a banshee,” Joyce muttered, pressing the bottle of Scotch to her forehead.
“She gets that from you,” Hank replied. He was quiet for a minute, then said, almost reflectively, “At least she’s happy.”
The house all but trembled as the vampire above them roared in release. His scream was second only to their daughter’s.
“Sounds like he is, too,” the woman agreed.
“We’re drunk enough that we’re not gonna remember any of this tomorrow, aren’t we?” Hank asked, reaching for one of the discarded bottles next to his feet. “Don’t wanna be scarred for life.”
They fell to silence for a few seconds. Then the crashing sounds took the repeat and started from the beginning.
Joyce moaned. “Bit late for that,” she said.
They met each other’s eyes in a moment of awkward unity through alcohol-muddled minds.
“You, too.” A pause. “Assface.”
“I deserve that.”
“Yes, you do.”
Hank smiled and nodded as though satisfied. He then turned his eyes to the ceiling and yelled, “Happy Thanksgiving, Buffy!”
A long, muffled moan answered him, but that was satisfactory. He turned to Joyce and raised his bottle. She smiled sleepily, found the drink nearest to her, and did the same.
“Cheers,” they said together.
And, very predictably, drank.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/26045.html