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The Question Game	By : KimberlyA Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 4019 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: This is a little fic I wrote a while ago and posted on ff.net. However, since ff.net no longer allows NC-17 fics, the story has been lolling around on my own personal website since then. I figured I'd put it up here, in case anyone here was interested in reading it.

Spoilers: Season 6 through "Flooded"
Disclaimers: These characters don't belong to me ... Joss Whedon owns all. This story is property of the author. (Just ask me if you want it ... I like to know where my children are.)
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The Question Game: Round 1

Previously, on "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" ...

BUFFY: I think I was in Heaven. ... Everything here is ... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch ... this is Hell.

BUFFY: Everyone ... (long pause) they all care. They all care so much, it ... makes it all harder. ... I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be okay, so they don't worry. It's exhausting.

SPIKE: And that makes 'em worry even more.

Buffy moves forward, sits on the top stair, sighs deeply. Spike sits beside her.

BUFFY: Why are you always around when I'm miserable?

SPIKE: 'Cause that's when you're alone, I reckon. I'm not one for crowds myself these days.

They look at each other.

BUFFY: Me neither.

SPIKE: That works out nicely then.
* * * * * * * * *
It was quite late in the evening when the Slayer arrived. She opened the door without knocking, as always, but without slamming it. That was new since she'd been back. She entered the dark crypt and closed the heavy door carefully behind her.

Spike's skin and hair shone vaguely blue in the light of the television as he turned to look at her. The rest of the crypt was in shadow, only a couple of candles lit here and there. "'Lo there, pet," he greeted her. "Somethin' I can do for ya?"

Buffy looked a bit embarrassed, hovering near the doorway and looking at the cement floor.

Spike waited patiently. She was quiet these days ... had something to say, just needed time.

"This is going to sound really stupid ..." she began hesitantly. Spike waited. She cleared her throat and glanced at the television, "Could you turn that off?" Spike leaned forward and switched off the tv, plunging the crypt into almost complete darkness. He settled back into his chair and watched Buffy's face curiously in the dim light.

"Somethin' wrong, luv?" She seemed sad, or lonely, or something. Vulnerable. Actually, she'd seemed that way a lot since she'd returned.

She shook her head. He could see the dim candlelight reflect off of the shiny gold mass as it moved. "No, nothing's wrong." She hesitated. "Well, nothing, really. I mean ... I'm just ..."

"This'll sound really stupid ..." she shifted from one foot to the other.

Spike smiled gently, "Pet, you already said that, but I can guarantee I won't think it's stupid. An' no matter what it is, you know you can tell me, an' I'll do anything I can to help."

Buffy glanced cautiously at Spike's face, then bit her bottom lip before asking, "Can I ... can I come over there? To sit, I mean?"

Spike immediately leapt to a standing position, gesturing to the chair and replying, "'Course! I shoulda offered right off ..."

But Buffy interrupted him. "No! I mean ..." Spike wasn't sure, but he thought she might be blushing. "I mean ... can I come sit there ... with you ..." Her voice had grown quieter by the end, and just trailed off.

Spike stood awkwardly beside the chair, shocked into silence. He rubbed a hand nervously through his hair and finally stammered, "Um ... sure ... yeah ... 'course ..." and seated himself in the chair again as Buffy walked slowly toward him. "Uh ... how you want to do this, pet?"

"Could you just ... just ... hold me?" Buffy asked in almost a whisper, and Spike held out his arms. She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms tightly around him, pressing her face against his neck as he held her close. He felt wetness against the skin of his neck, and knew she must be crying, and so he stroked her hair softly and murmured comforting nonsense. "S'alright, pet ... everythin's gonna be just fine ... you just cry s'long as you need to ... I'm here, luv ... I'm here ... you're safe, Buffy ... just let it out ... love you, pet ... you're safe here ..."

They sat that way for what seemed like hours. Her entire body trembled against him. Spike gently rubbed Buffy's back and pulled her hair away from her face, kissing her forehead softly.

After a time, she seemed to relax in his arms, snuggling against his shoulder and sighing quietly. Spike just continued stroking her back and hair. She'd stopped trembling at last, and her tears seemed to cease as well. Theyt sat sat there together in silence and Spike listened to her breathing, slow and soft and warm, so near his ear. He felt like his whole body was tingling.

If he waited until she said something, she'd probably be embarrassed. Nobody likes crying on their former enemy's shoulder, after all. Especially not kick-ass Slayers. He figured he should think of something to say to help her stay relaxed, help take her mind off the odd situation they were in ...

His voice was quiet in the darkness. "Y'ever play that question game with the Bit? We played it a lot last summer."

"Question game?"

"Well, yeah. Y'make a deal at the beginnin' ... honest answers, nothin' said leaves this room. Then ya take turns askin' the questions. Promise I won't ask you anythin' too embarrassin', pet." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Spike felt her nod against his neck and shoulder. "Okay. Who starts?"

Spike chuckled. "Guess you just did, luv. Now it's my turn." Buffy chuckled against his neck, and the breath against the moisture from her tears was like an electric shock. He shuddered lightly, then continued talking quickly. "What's your favorite food?"

"Whipped cream," Buffy answered in a firm voice.

"Whipped cream? That's not a food!"

"Sure it is. Right there on the food pyramid, in the dairy group! Part of this nutritious breakfast. My turn now?"

"Well, it was, pet. But now it's mine, 'cause you just asked your question."

Buffy sma him him lightly on the arm, "Cheater!"

Spike held his hands up, all innocence. "Just followin' the rules, Slayer. You know me ... law-abidin' citizen an' all." He paused a moment, then said, "But I guess, just this once, you can take your turn again. Still learnin' the rules, I reckon."

Buffy sighed sarcastically, "Oh, thank you sooo much. Okay, here's my question. Why did you shudder a minute ago?"

Spike went still. "Uh ... well ..."

"Honest answers, Spike, remember?"

Spike leaned his head back to glare at her. "Are you accusing me of welshing? I'm gonna answer the bloody question ..."

He heaved a sigh, then grimaced slightly. "You ... when you laughed, you ... breathed on my neck ... an' ..." the last bit came out in a rush, "... felt bloody good, okay?" He looked away, embarrassed. Who'd've known she'd be the one asking the embarrassing questions? Should he get back at her with an embarrassing question of his own, or move things onto safer footing? This could get out of hand, seeing as how he was the one with the most to lose, being in love with her.

"What do you find sexiest about me?" The question popped out of his mouth before he'd even decided to ask it.

Buffy was quiet for a moment, then said quietly, "Your eyes. They're so intense ... so ... sometimes when you look at me, it's like I can feel it inside me."

They both pretended to ignore Spike's immediate physical reaction to her answer, though his quickly growing erection was impossible to hide. Spike heard her heart rate speed up, and her body temperature seemed to increase, as well. It was like some sort of feedback loop between the two of them.

Buffy cleared her throat again. "My turn. What scares you, and why?"

"You."

"What?"

"You scare me, Buffy. Don't like admittin' it, but s'true. You scare me half to death, because you can break my heart with just one word, just one look. You ... you have power over me, an' I hate that, an' it scares the hell out of me." Why was he admitting all this? Things would be awkward as hell tomorrow. Were those Buffy's lips brushing against his neck? That had to have been his imagination.

"My turn," he continued quickly. "What's the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?"

Buffy thought for a moment, her cheek nuzzling comfortably against his shoulder. "Before I get out of bed, or after?"

"Whichever, pet."

"Well, I guess I'd have to say that ... well ... I lie in bed with my eyes still closed, and try to remember my dreams. And if I had good dreams, I try to remember every detail, try to memorize them, so they're like actual memories of wonderful stuff that really happened."

Spike nodded in agreement, then Buffy said quietly against the sensitive moist skin of his neck, "Same question, back to you. What's the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?"

Spike swore under his breath, then leaned his head back to look at the ceiling for a moment. "Trust me, luv, you don't want to hear the answer to that one."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"You asked for it ..."

"I did."

Closing his eyes, Spike said quickly, "First thing I generally do when I wake up, pet, is have a wank." He heard Buffy's breath catch.

"My turn, luv. An' my question is this ... what are you thinkin' right now?"

Buffy's voice was only a whisper. "Honest?"

"Honest."

She hid her face against his shoulder. "I'm thinking that I'd like to watch."

For a moment, it seemed like Spike might be choking to death. Buffy rolled off his lap and onto the floor, propelled by the vigor of his hacking and coughing. She sat there on the concrete, blushing and not looking at him, until his choking seemed to have subsided and he was only making mildly distressed gurgling noises.

Buffy glanced nervously up at his face, and saw his wide eyes glinting in the dim light as he stared at her. She licked her lips, and his eyes immediately dropped to her mouth.

"God, Buffy," he murmured, as if in pain. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Buffy watched him intently, but with an edge of hesitation. "It's not your turn, Spike. It's mine. ... And my question is ... would you ... I mean ... um ... I've never seen ... would you ... show me?"

Spike's entire body jerked in reaction to her question, a soft moan echoing in the small crypt. His voice was strained when he asked, "Are you asking what I think you're asking, Buffy?"

Buffy repeated quietly, uncertainly, "Show me, Spike? Please?"

He shuddered at her "please," and his hands moved slowly toward his jeans. He watched her face, sure that at any moment she would tell him to stop what he was doing. He began undoing the buttons, and her breathing seemed faster. Spike nervously licked his lips and pushed his jeans down past his knees, where they fell around his feet. Buffy moaned quietly at the sight of his erection and licked her lips again, causing his cock to jerk visibly.

If he kept watching her face, this was going to be over in a humiliatingly short period of time, so he closed his eyes as he ran his hand lightly over his chest and down to his crotch, where he grasped his cock in a loose grip, afraid that stronger stimulation would send him right over the edge.

He shifted position slightly in the chair, slumping down into a more comfortable slouch and leaning his head back, arching his neck. He started a slow stroking motion, every cell of his body thrillingly aware of Buffy's presence so nearby, watching him so closely. At the end of each stroke, he ran his thumb around the leaking head.

And then her voice, quietly curious. "What are you thinking about?"

"You," Spike responded, his eyes still closed, his body going stiff and tight, his back arching tensely as he thrust into his hand at the sound of her voice.

"What about me?"

"God, Buffy! Your ... mouth ... your lips ... on me ... your tongue ..." He was stroking faster now, panting and straining. His lips were parted, and his tongue appeared periodically to moisten them.

"Your mouth ... so hot ... so wet ... oh god ... oh god, Buffy ... so good ... feels so good ..." His neck was arched back as if he were in agony, his cock huge and glistening with pre-cum as his hand moved over it with an increasingly regular, faster rhythm. Buffy watched with wide, greedy eyes, her gaze traveling constantly back and forth from his face to where his hand was working.

"You want to feel my mouth on you, Spike?" she asked quietly.

"God yes! Oh fuck yes! Oh fuck, Buffy!" Spike shouted as his body jerked uncontrollably and he began to cum, the thick white liquid spurting all over his black t-shirt. "Unnnnhhhh ... unnnnhh .... holy fuck ... oh Jesus ..." Some drops of cum even sprayed onto his shoulder, he came so hard. After a moment, when the spurts had stopped, his hand stilled, holding himself as he panted softly.

"Oh my god," he breathed wonderingly, his eyes still tightly closed. "Bloody hell ..."

Buffy stood, and watched him uncertainly. "I should ... I should probably get home ... Dawn ..."

Spike opened his eyes warily. This was going to screw everything up. He'd been starting to think they were becoming friends ... and now this.

He felt ridiculous, acting normal when he was sitting there with his dick in his hand, but he tried to sound casual when he said, "Sure, pet. You'd better get goin'." He closed his eyes again, not wanting to see her face when she left after this performance.

A moment later, he felt a small, warm hand against his cheek, and then soft, soft lips on his ... exploring ... giving ... a warm, wet tongue entering his mouth to stroke and play and taste. And then, with one last gentle press of her lips against his, she walked to the door.

She turned back to look at him, and smiled shyly. "Thank you, Spike." And then she was gone.
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The Question Game