Title: Her Forbidden Affair
Word Count: 875
Written For: seasonal_spuffy Round 11
Theme: Love is a temporary madness
Timeline: Set sometime in Btvs S6
Genre: Romance, Angst
Warnings: adult language, sexual situations
Disclaimer: I do not own the Buffyverse. That gem belongs to Joss Whedon, Fox and others associated with the TV shows, comics and merchandising. I’m just a writer who loves the show and likes to write about its characters. :)
Summary: Buffy lets Spike take her to heaven, night after night, but loving him for it isn’t part of the deal… or is it?
Her Forbidden Affair
His hand inched up her inner thigh, steady as a rock, moving closer and closer to his intended goal. He smirked when she gasped his name, his tongue curling behind his teeth as he leaned forward and brushed a hot, open-mouthed kiss between her breasts, down her abdomen, toward her…
“Christ, you smell good,” Spike whispered in a voice thick with lust and heavy with need. “Never gonna get enough of it. Of this. Of you.”
Buffy Summers reached out a hand, knotting her fingers into the short, tamed blond head of hair perched between her thighs. “Please…don’t make me beg.”
“But I want you to beg.” He dropped another kiss along the waistband of her panties, gazing up at her with heated, pleasure-filled eyes. “Want you to moan and scream, too, love.”
He trailed a finger along the wet cotton center of her underwear, pressing into her with light, slow stroke, before slipping the digit beneath one edge to trace a lazy path along her pussy.
Buffy arched her back, lifted her hips, and still, Spike did not touch her where she needed, where she wanted.
He grinned in triumph, teasing her with his hand, his hot eyes dancing with mischief and want.
A low, frustrated moan tore from the back of her throat as he made a wide circle around her clit, and she dug her fingernails into the skin at his shoulder blades in retaliation, marking him deep, making him growl.
“Do it,” she hissed out between clenched teeth, unable to take any more torture. “Touch me, dammit.”
He snarled at the order, blue eyes flashing gold, but did as she asked, ripping her underwear from her body to place his mouth against her mound. “Bossy bint.”
Spike licked her pussy from bottom to top, top to bottom, dipping his tongue between her lower lips, in and out, in and out. In. And Out.
“Wanted to take my time with you,” he groused, his voice hoarse and stubborn, this tongue flat and firm. “Wanted to drive you barmy with need.”
“Later,” she vowed, arching her back and digging her fingers into his scalp, pressing his face back into her. “You can do it later. Right now just…make me come.”
He did as she ordered, repeatedly so, until her limbs grew tired and her mind blanked out, blissfully at peace for the first time in months, maybe even years.
God! How did he get so good at that?
Spike rose up onto his elbows, lips glistening with her spendings, and grinned up at her, one eyebrow raised in silent question.
Buffy smiled, hooking a hand at the nape of his neck, and pulled him up her body, her freehand curled around his bicep. “Thank you,” she whispered quietly, sincerely. “Thank you for giving me this.”
He nodded, turning his head to place a kiss against her wrist, before lowering her hand from his neck, holding it down against the pillow beneath her head. “’Course. I’ll always give in to you, pet. Bloody love you, don’t I?”
Yeah, she supposed that he did.
Did she love him in return, though? Sometimes she thought that she might. Other times…she knew that she didn’t. It was on those days, she found it the most difficult to talk to him, and to be with him.
Tonight she suspected she did love him, or teetered on the edge of falling, at least. It didn’t even seem that scary to her now. Just natural, and right. Being with him, loving him, felt right. More right than anything else in her life did lately.
So why did her brain tell her that it wasn’t right? That it was wrong to love a vampire. This vampire.
“You’re thinkin’ too much again, lamb. Think we need another diversion.”
They did. But a diversion from what? Her head…or her heart? Or maybe he meant both?
Spike gripped his erection in his hand, positioned it at her opening, and slid inside her in one smooth stroke, his body taut with tension, his eyes burning with desire, with need.
He moved inside her, slow at first, almost languid, and then he sped up, each deep, long thrust hitting her cervix, producing that beautiful pained, pleasure-filled burst of light behind her eyelids. She screamed his name, more than once, and dug her nails into his lower back, his buttocks. The balls of her feet dug into his upper thighs as she held him to her, tight, keeping him where she wanted him, where she needed him.
In the end, his diversion worked, and Buffy wasn’t sorry for it at all.
But she felt sorry for him. For Spike. For the hurt in his eyes. The pained regret on his face when he realized she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. What he deserved.
She always hurt him. She didn’t know why, and she couldn’t seem to stop.
That bothered her. More than it should. More than she liked.
If he was the big, bad monster, then why did she always feel like the dark, evil beast about to rip him to shreds?
It wasn’t fair. She knew that. She really did.
But she didn’t stop seeing him, and she didn’t stop the forbidden affair.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/433562.html