Misery Made Beautiful – 3/5

This entry is part 3 of 5 in the series Misery Made Beautiful
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Three

Buffy didn’t realize how hard she was trembling until she stepped out of the shower alcove, dressed only in Spike’s t-shirt. She honestly didn’t know how to act around him now that she had gone all sex-kittenish on him upstairs. She had wrapped her lips around his cock, and while she was relieved to have finally torn down one barrier, she was completely lost. What would he expect of her now that they had shared something so unspeakably intimate? Up until this point, Spike had been carefully in refrained from pushing her anywhere she didn’t want to be pushed. He’d intentionally distanced himself from her, wanting to provide an easy out, and now that she had made it impossible, she hadn’t the faintest idea how to act.

She didn’t want to go back. No. Never. After all, she knew she loved him, now. With as tense and awkward as things might be, she knew she loved him and that he wouldn’t hurt her.

Odd that she knew that about Spike. He was the only soulless man she’d loved; he was the only one she could fully trust. The only one that had ever loved her the way she wanted to be loved. She was nervous, and while justifiable, she likewise knew that he was likely a thousand times more so. After all, Spike didn’t know how she felt. He didn’t know that she loved him.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in sweats that looked downright funny on him. She’d never known Spike to wear anything but jeans, and hadn’t really expected him to be wearing anything at all. Another demonstration, then, of how careful he was being for her sake. He wasn’t presuming anything. Not a damn thing.

Buffy flushed and folded her hands primly as she approached. The sweats did little to hide the outline of his swelling cock, and somehow, seeing the fabric tent was even more erotic than watching him harden with nothing between them. Instantly, her legs weakened and her clit began throbbing.

They were both being careful.

She stopped when she was standing at his knees, her heart thundering. He could smell her arousal—she knew he could. And while there was a hint of that smugness that she secretly adored in his eyes, the whole of him gave way to simple awe.

“You look…” he began, but trailed off when his eyes refused to stop wandering over her covetously.

Buffy stared at him for a long minute, then a wide grin spread across her face and her insides exploded with glee. The clouds parted, and she saw everything without the blur of indecision. She finally grasped what her mind had been telling her—there wasn’t any need to tiptoe on eggshells around him. She’d made her decision. God, she’d made her decision.

Inspired suddenly, she released a small, excited cry, grasped his shoulders and straddled his waist. She pressed herself against his hardness with liberation that knew no bounds.

Spike was, among other things, bewildered. “Buffy—”

She took his face in her hands and devoured his mouth with hers. No more chaste kisses. No more hiding behind a game of cards. She wanted him. She wanted him just as he was now—moaning into her, his lips in combat with hers with passionate enthusiasm. His tongue invaded her mouth, exploring her with sensuality that made her insides tremble. His hands slid possessively to her ass, and when she didn’t slap them away, he thrust his erection against her sodden pussy, and growled when she thrust back.

Buffy pulled away only when she needed air. Her head flew back, baring her throat to him in silent invitation. He gave in gladly, his cool lips dancing down her skin, his tongue tapping against her jugular as his blunt teeth played against her teasingly.

“Hot, fiery li’l minx, you are,” he murmured against her, his fingers brazenly slipping under the elastic of her panties to caress her backside. “God, I want you so much.”

“You’ve got me,” she replied breathlessly. “I’m right here.”

His eyes widened in astonishment. “Are you? Are you really? I can’t…Buffy, we can’t do this halfway. I love you. You bloody well know I love you. I can’t…with as much as I want you, I love you too much to only have a part of you. If this is…a fling, then we need to stop. I couldn’t bear it otherwise.”

Buffy was quiet for a long minute; not out of indecision, but rather out of respect. It truly hadn’t occurred to her until he said it—it hadn’t occurred to her just how important love was to Spike.

When he loved, he loved with all he was. Just like she did. He didn’t do flings—well, not intentionally. How he’d ever ended up as Harmony’s bedmate, she didn’t know, nor did she particularly care. But he hadn’t loved Harmony. Just as Buffy hadn’t loved Parker.

Difference being, Harmony hadn’t brushed Spike off as he’d likely hoped. And no male could pass up free sex, even if the provider was as unbelievably stake-worthy as that blonde doorknob.

“It’s not a fling,” she said. “It’s really not, Spike.”

“What is it, then?” he asked. He looked for all the world as though he wasn’t lying beneath her. As though his erection wasn’t pressed into her stomach. As though she hadn’t just kissed his lips off.

A serene smile graced her lips. “It’s real. What we have is real.” She slid a hand between them, her fingers dancing along the waist of his sweats. The look on his face lay somewhere between incredulity and the want of hope. “I’m completely serious,” she added. “This is real.”

Spike choked when she wrapped her fingers around his cock. “You’re…Buffy, you’re saying you…you really want to be with me?”

She had to fight the impulse to giggle. He’d asked in complete seriousness, yet her mind couldn’t help but whip her back to elementary school—playing on the playground when some seven-year old moseyed up to her and asked if she would please be his girlfriend. A brazen, womanly look colored her eyes, and she nodded slowly, her hand releasing his cock as she slid down his body. She stopped when she was perched on her knees at the floor in front of him; her fingers hooked under the waistband of his sweats, and dragged the material down his legs.

Spike sat up, his gaze bathing her in wonder, though he could do little to mask his trepidation. “Buffy, I—”

“Yes, I want to be with you,” she answered matter-of-factly, her calm demeanor belying her racing heart. “I want to do coupley things with you. I want you to be at the Scooby meetings, giving me ‘my God, when can we get out of here?’ looks so I can pretend to look away and not notice, but you’d know I felt the same way. I want you to take me to dinner and a movie, and I wanna be caught necking in the theater. I want you to patrol with me. I want you to fight at my side when the world is about to end. And when it’s over, I want you to come back to my house with me so we can celebrate the fact that we’re still alive.” Her hand curled around his cock again, and she dipped her head to suckle sweetly at his head. The moan that tore through the air only fueled her fervor. “I want you to come Bronzing with me. I want to dance with you in front of my friends. When it’s Christmas, I want to decorate the tree with you, and gross everyone out with the cutesy presents we’ll give each other. I want to go to one of those instant-photo booths at the mall and snap a roll of pictures that we can show off. We’ll be one of those couples that everyone hates. They’ll hate us because they’re jealous, and we’ll pretend that we don’t notice.” She tongued the underside of his erection, then released him slowly and rose to her feet, her eyes dark with intent. “I want it all, Spike. I want everything. And I want it with you.”

If someone had told her two weeks ago that she’d be describing a fairytale life with Spike, and that his eyes would well with tears at her declaration, she would have made a face and muttered something unkind. The idea that anyone could want what she wanted, much less a vampire whose drive in life was aimed at destruction, was simply impossible.

He glanced down when his emotions got the better of him, his eyes trained fixedly on the way her hand was coiled around his cock. Buffy seized the opportunity to snap her panties down her legs with her free hand—somehow maintaining her balance. In her mind, she didn’t look as awkward as she felt, but it didn’t seem to matter; if Spike noticed, he didn’t say anything. Rather, he took a deep breath, then looked up again just as her mouth was descending toward the head of his erection.

“Oh, God,” he gasped, his fingers threading through her hair.

She moaned her approval around him, her tongue exploring his slit with growing hunger. Her past experience notwithstanding, she was discovering the further she pushed herself with Spike, the further she wanted to go.

“Buffy—oh, Jesus, pet, jus’ like that.” He gifted her with a few more of his delicious whimpers, his hips thrusting upward with aching desperation. “You…pet, do I get to touch?”

“Hmmm?” she asked around his cock, her mouth becoming more boisterous. More insistent. His taste was addictive. The sounds he made were addictive. Everything about him was addictive.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning back as he drove himself deeper into her throat. “Buffy…oh God, feels so good. You’re a goddess.”

Her mouth trailed slowly up the length of him until her lips were wrapped just around his belled head, suckling gently as her right hand curled around his thickness, her other dropping to caress his balls. The more she touched him, the further she pushed herself, the hotter she became. The sounds that tumbled through his lips, the whimpers and muffled praises swelled her veins with ardor, and she found herself aching with want.

“Want…oh, fuck, baby, that’s so good. I…uhhhh, Buffy!”

Spike thrust upward with a pained gasp, then seemingly gathered his bearings and wrapped his hands around her arms, coaxing her away from his cock with a mutual moan of complaint. When she met his eyes, she found herself drowned in desire deeper than anything she’d ever known. It rocked her foundation to think that anyone could want her—her—so much.

The look in Spike’s eyes went beyond lust. He was panting, teetering on the very end of control, and she wanted to topple over the edge with him.

“I wanna touch you,” he practically growled.

“So touch me,” she shot back, her voice full of challenge.

He jerked her forward and smashed his lips to hers, his growl melting into a moan. The time for careful kisses was over. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, seeking and exploring as his hands roamed her body freely. He touched her like a man starved; sliding his hands up her arms, holding her neck for a few precious seconds until he realized that she wasn’t going anywhere and that the invitation to touch her had no limits. Then he growled again, headily this time, and fisted the t-shirt she’d stolen.

“I wanna see you,” Spike moaned when their lips parted, hers immediately latching onto his throat. “Oh, Christ.”

“So see me,” she retorted, raising her head for a fraction of a second to flash him a cheeky grin. She grasped his upper arms and slid more securely onto his lap, until her bare pussy was licking the underside of his erection. “You need to get it through your head,” she continued, peppering his neck with kisses and relishing his impassioned moan. “That I’m not going anywhere.”

It took a few seconds for Spike to find words. “I’ll try.” Then, grasping either end of her tee, he ripped the garment down the middle, tossing it to the floor without any thought to the contrary.

Buffy mewled in mock complaint. “You broke it.”

“Don’ care,” he replied. “Din’t want you to stop touching me.”

She grinned into his throat, her teeth playing over the mark left by his sire with cool expertise that betrayed her intent. Buffy was no novice to vampiric bites, and having instructed a lover or two to pay particular attention to her own in the past, she knew just how good it felt to have someone’s mouth on them.

She shuddered, then, realizing that she wanted Spike’s fangs to erase the memory of her past bites. The thought was rather startling, especially considering that she had never actively sought a pair of fangs in the past, no matter how pleasurable the marks became. However, the thought of Spike sinking his teeth into her only served to fuel her arousal. Something terrifying and dangerous had suddenly become something erotic, and she wanted it.

Buffy shivered and chose to shove her revelation to the back of her mind. Spike would probably think she was out of her mind, so it was best to keep such things to herself. Besides, what kind of pervert would crave something like that? Hadn’t she broken up with Riley for that very reason?

She paused then. No, she hadn’t. She’d broken up with Riley in her mind long before putting his dismissal into action. Finding out about his nocturnal excursions had only provided an excuse—a reason to make it his fault, and not hers. After all, he was normal, and if she didn’t want him, it meant she didn’t want normal. It meant she wasn’t the poster girl for decency that Angel had always thought her to be. It meant that there was something even more amiss about her aside from the sacred calling.

But she didn’t love Angel, and she certainly didn’t love Riley. She loved Spike, and she was sick and tired of pretending to be something that she wasn’t. She wasn’t normal, and she never would be.

Still, the fang thing kind of wigged her out. She’d have to give that one some thought before she extended the invitation. Maybe research during Giles’s daily and progressively uneventful Glory meetings. After all, if she, a vampire slayer, was going to ask a vampire to bite her, she needed to know what she was getting into.

Even if she knew Spike would never hurt her. Not the Spike she knew now—now that she was allowing herself to truly see him. The Spike she knew now was brushing kisses along her shoulder, pushing her back so that his lips could wrap around one of her nipples as he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. He suckled at her delicately, his tongue tracing her areola, tapping the tip of her nipple, then drawing back so his mouth could fit around her small globe and suckle with more intensity.

Buffy had never known her breasts to be so sensitive. Riley and Parker both had squeezed them like they wanted to star in porn, and Angel had somehow managed to steal her virginity without touching her at all. Though, in all fairness, his reasoning likely lay in his hesitance to do anything to scare the crap out of her. After all, even being in high school, her mind hadn’t the capacity to even fathom what her first sexual experience would be like.

Spike was worshipping her as though he took pleasure in her pleasure, and wasn’t working solely for his own. With his mouth and fingers, he made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world, and the sensation dizzied her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, releasing her with a wet plop. He left her with a parting kiss to her nipple before shifting his focus to its twin.

With as much as she loved the feel of his mouth against her breast, her body was aware of a growing need to feel his touch between her legs. And she knew, somehow, that he would ask her before daring to explore her there. Despite what she said, he was still being measured and careful, and while she appreciated the sentiment, appreciated the emergency exits he left open for her, she needed him to know, once and for all, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Buffy’s hand reached between them, wrapping around his cock again. Spike rumbled his response into her flesh, his fingers becoming slightly more adventurous. A slow descent across her stomach, but he wasn’t going fast enough. She needed him, and she needed him now.

A point she got across nicely when she lifted her hips and pressed the head of his cock against her clit.

Spike’s head snapped back, his eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

The stimulation against her throbbing flesh was almost too much. Buffy gasped and shook her head, rubbing herself wantonly against him. “Unh!”

“Buffy—oh God, Buffy—”

She shifted again, her opening hovering over him.

“Baby…”

“Kiss me,” she gasped, and he did.

The second his lips met hers, she sank down, her pussy swallowing his cock as her body ignited in bliss. A long gasp tore through her throat, her head flying back and her hands immediately finding purchase on his chest. She felt his skin tremble beneath her fingers as his answering moan painted the air. Her eyes fluttered shut, then open again, and she met his stunned, rapt gaze with a warm smile.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, his hands gripping her hips. “Oh my God. Is this really happening? Fuck, Buffy, tell me this is really happening.”

There were absolutely no words. None at all to describe the sensation of having him inside her. She’d never felt this before—not once, and all she’d done at this point was take him into her body. His chest rose and fell under her fingers and she let herself drown in the ocean of his eyes. Was it real? God, she didn’t know herself.

“Hold on,” she said breathlessly, lifting herself off his lap, then sinking down again. God, there was nothing like that. Nothing like the feel of his erection slipping through her slick passage—he felt big; bigger than she was used to. A year and a half of mediocre sex with Riley had her conditioned to expect nothing special. The bloom had worn itself off that rose within a couple weeks, and she had a feeling that it had something to do with the fact that, at least once during the possessed-sex in the frat house, she had called out Spike’s name.

Talk about mortified. Riley hadn’t called her on it, and she had forced herself to write it off as a ghosty side-effect.

Her experimental thrusts got the better of Spike’s uncharacteristic silence after a few long seconds, and he burst with the most impassioned gasp she’d ever heard, driving his hips forward, his fingers digging into her hips. “Oh my fucking God, you’re so tight. So fucking tight. So wet an’ warm for me. Such a sweet quim. Feel so fucking wonderful.”

Buffy released a shrill gasp, realizing for the first time how hard she was trembling. None of her past lovers had been particularly verbose, thus the sound of Spike’s choked voice breaking the silence around them struck her as overwhelmingly intimate. And though it had taken her aback, his sudden bout of vulgarity only heightened the sensation. “Ohhh,” she breathed as the thick length of him slid out of her, pausing when just his head was wrapped in her silken walls. “Oh my God.”

There was something particularly touching in watching Spike pant. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’ you?” he gasped. “Buffy, please. Need you so bad. Need you. Oh God—”

“Spike,” she said softly, sliding down his length until her pussy was pressed against the base of his erection. God, no one had ever been so deep within her, and the sensation was heady. She was full to the brim, torn somewhere between pleasure and pain, and it was wonderful. “This…oh my God…I’ve never…I’ve never…”

The need in her own voice must have snapped him from his haze. He released a trembling breath and ran his hands up her back, then down again to hold her ass as she steadily bounced on his cock. “Yeah, baby, that’s it,” he purred. He looked up at her through bruised eyes, and she sighed at his strength. “That’s it. Oh, that’s so good. You feel so good. So hot an’ tight.”

Buffy gasped again, her muscles clenching hard around him. He was bringing her senses to life in ways she didn’t know were possible. Where she had been empty before, she was now complete. Where others had failed her, Spike made her whole. As though he could give her strength simply by willing it so.

“Never,” she panted, her movements gaining momentum as her confidence swelled. “Oh God, Spike. It’s never…ohhh, it’s never…I’ve never felt this. Never.”

His eyes widened, and the depth of love she saw there stole her breath away. “Never,” he agreed, nodding eagerly. “Christ, never. Never like this. Never. Squeeze me, baby. I love it when you squeeze me.” She obeyed, and shivered when he moaned in turn. “Feel so good.”

Buffy returned his nod and reached behind her, seizing the hands that held her ass and forcing them to the mattress on either side of his head. Then she leaned forward until her breasts brushed against his chest, continuing to flex her vaginal muscles around his cock. He gave her the confidence she lacked in bed. Trying new things had never been her forté, no matter how simple and unexciting said new things were. Taking small steps, taking initiative in something so intimate, gave her a sense of authority that no amount of slaying or world saveage could hope to touch.

“My God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed reverently, his eyes rolling back as she squeezed him. His hands fell on her ass again, helping her explore the new position, and moaning into her mouth when she swallowed him in a heated kiss. “So…ohhhh. Stop. Stop, sweetheart.”

Buffy frowned and forced her body to stop rocking against him, raising her head slowly. “What?” she panted. “I didn’t…did I do something wrong?”

Spike shook his head. “I’m going to come if you keep that up. An’ I want you to come first.”

The way he spoke made her flush.

“Oh…ummm…sorry?”

He chuckled and shook his head again, pushing on her shoulders until she was sitting upright once more.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked. Despite his words, she felt inept and foolish, even as her body throbbed with tension and begged her for release. “No one’s ever stopped in mid—”

“An’ I’m guessin’ no one’s ever really cared if you got off.” Spike lifted her off his cock, moaning when he slipped out of her. “Plus, you haven’ let me have a taste.”

“A taste?”

He didn’t bother to answer, instead dragging her up the length of his body until her pussy was hovering above his mouth. “Hold on,” he growled, brushing his lips against her clit. Buffy gasped at the bullet of pleasure that tore through her, fisting a handful of bed linen, only to have it rip in her grip the second that she felt him suckling at her wet, vulnerable flesh.

“Oh my God!” she cried, thrusting against his face with abandon. “Oh my God!”

Spike chuckled, and God, the vibrations from his mirth felt fantastic. His tongue probed her wet, silken folds, suckling at her with tender care as his hands settled on either thigh, gently spreading her wider. She felt like she was on display, and to her utter astonishment, she didn’t give a damn.

“You taste so sweet,” he whispered. “I’ve dreamt of your taste, you know.”

A long, nearly pained moan clawed at her throat.

“Fuck, Buffy, I’ve dreamt of everythin’.” He slipped his tongue inside her, lapping at her eagerly as his fingers inched over her thigh to capture her clit. Tiny pinpoints of pleasure stabbed at her flesh. She released another long whimper, her hips thrusting hard against his touch. Her fingers flew to her breasts, tugging at her nipples as he licked at her pussy.

“Oh, God. Oh God. So good. So good! Oh, Spike!” Her hands abandoned her breasts. She was close. She was beyond close. The inferno raging within her was rolling toward explosion. She was just seconds away from oblivion, and it was the headiest, most empowering sensation she’d ever known.

Then Spike slipped his tongue out of her.

Buffy’s eyes popped open and her body cried out in protest. “Spike!” she sobbed, wiggling over his face. “Oh God, please!”

“Shhh,” he whispered against her folds, easing two fingers inside her. “Oh, Christ. You’re swallowin’ me.”

“Unh!”

“Have any idea how hot this looks?” He nipped at her inner thigh with his blunt teeth. “Watchin’ you drench my fingers? Knowin’ that you’re quiverin’ because of me? You’re begging for me. For my touch.” His fingers left her for a fraction of a second, and she heard him suckling her juices off his skin. Then, he eased his eager digits back inside her, and sighed in time with her sigh. “Could watch this forever,” he said. “Could watch me finger-fuck your quim until the sodding world ends.”

“Ohh!”

His mouth clamped over her clit, his tongue circling the needy bundle, licking her reverentially. Then he paused and sucked hard. And Buffy exploded. Pleasure burst through every vein, every cell, every pore, wracking her insides in bliss as her body saturated with rapture. She heard herself screaming his name, heard him murmuring his praises into her skin, then collapsed bonelessly to the mattress. Her wet flesh was still pressed against his face, but she couldn’t be bothered to care.

And yet, despite the peaceful hum that settled over her, a part of her was still raging. A part of her needed more.

Ohh.

Spike gently edged her down his body, doting her skin with soft kisses. She sighed in contentment, a goofy smile spreading across her face. And the look he gave her when their eyes met let her know, as she’d never known before, just how much he loved her.

“I need you, baby,” he whispered against her lips, and the next thing she knew, she was impaled on his cock.

It was almost too much. Her legs were still trembling from her orgasm, her pussy was drenched and aching with sensitivity. This was new. Her normal endurance seemed zapped; then again, her previous bouts of marathon sex had never accompanied marathon orgasms. Feeling him move within her while every cell in her body was charged with sexual energy was thoroughly singular to every experience she’d ever had. “Guh! Oh, God!”

“Oh, yeah,” he answered, his voice a rough growl. Then he flipped her under him, pinning her between the mattress and the steel of his body with quick, needy thrusts. “Squeeze me like that. Love you. God, Buffy, I love you so much.”

Tears stung her eyes and her heart swelled. She wanted to tell him. God, she wanted to tell him so much it hurt.

“Come for me, baby,” he rasped, shaking her with the intensity of his lovemaking. “I’ve gotten to taste you come; now I wanna feel you.”

Her eyes went wide. “I can’t again,” she gasped. “I can’t.”

Spike pierced her with his eyes, his thrusts growing harder. “Oh, yes you can.”

She gasped again and dug her nails into his biceps.

It was his voice that did it. As their flesh smacked together, their joined whimpers and moans coloring the air, he lowered his mouth to her ear as he slipped a hand between them. “Let me feel you, sweetheart,” he begged, his fingers capturing her clit and rubbing her tenderly. “I need to feel you come around my cock.”

That was it. She trembled hard, and her body detonated again. Her muscles tightened and clenched, squeezing him with need she barely recognized. A hoarse, thankful moan tumbled through his throat, and his brow fell to her shoulder as he spilled himself inside her. It seemed to last forever. The tremors he ignited through her body, her own need to milk him dry as he found his release.

Fire gave way to peace.

Buffy had no idea how much time passed before she opened her eyes; before she lifted her head. She found Spike resting against her shoulder. He’d burst into game face at some point, though she didn’t know if he even realized it. And with the sight of him resting against her like that, with his fangs inches from her skin but solace set into his eyes, she was enveloped in love.

“I love you,” he whispered suddenly, raising his eyes to hers. “I love you, Buffy.”

Her vision blurred and she nodded, lifting her head to kiss his ridges. “I know,” she replied, willing him to see her true answer through her tears.

He kissed her, fangs and all, and she returned his kiss with all the power of the words she couldn’t say.

He would know. He would know how much she loved him. Once the apocalypse was over. Once they were on the other side of this together.

She would tell him then.

TBC

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/102016.html

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