Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

Over and Done With	By : patty Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 4930 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or AtS, 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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Over and Done With
Part two

Buffy went upstairs, while Spike locked up and turned off the lights. From force of habit, she peeked into Dawn's room before she remembered that she was at a sleepover party with nine of her schoolmates.
"She's fine," Spike said, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing the side of her neck.
"I know." Even though her showdown with Glory had been over months ago, Buffy still fretted whenever Dawnie was away from home, and she had to make a conscious effort not to smother her with too much over protection.
Turning in Spike's arms she smiled at him. "We have the whole house to ourselves, so we can be as noisy as we want."
"WE?" He laughed. "You're the one who screams bloody murder when you..."
"Oh, look who's talking," she interrupted. "The guy who was shouting, "Baby...I'm gonna come...take it, baby...take it!" so loud that the neighbors threatened to call the cops. That WAS you, wasn't it?"
"It BETTER have been me, love, or we have a serious problem." He bent down and swept her up
in his arms, carrying her down the hall and into their bedroom. Setting her on her feet, he gave her a quick kiss, then pulled away. "Don't run off."
"Where are you going?"
"Just down to the kitchen. I'll be back sooner than trouble."
"Why? What's in the kitchen?"
"Don't be so nosy, little girl," he scolded.
Buffy sighed as he left the room, then kicked off her shoes and dropped her jacket over the back of the rocking chair. She sat on the bed andwaited, looking around the recently redecorated room and smiling with satisfaction.
After Willow and Tara had moved into their own home, she and Dawn had decided to ask Spike to come and live with them. Her sister had been happy to move into Buffy's old room, which was bigger than hers, and then they had redone the master bedroom.
They repainted it and hung new curtains. Buffy had kept her mothers oak armoire and chest of drawers, and the antique rocking chair. She had added a couple of small over stuffed arm chairs by the window, and had then gone shopping for a new bed.
She found a king size, with a beautful brass head and foot board, then bought three new sets of sheets, and a white eyelet lace cover, with a matching dust ruffle.
The bed was decidedly feminine looking, and she had worried that perhaps Spike wouldn't feel comfortable in it. But, he had assured her that as long as she was in the bed with him, he didn't much care what it looked like.
She was glad now that she had decided not to sell the house. Her mother's mortgage insurance had paid it off, but she had been afraid that the memories would be too painful for her and Dawn.
They had spent a long time talking it over before deciding that the good memories outweighed the bad ones. Willow and Tara had moved out, and Spike had moved in, first into Dawn's old room, then into the main bedroom with Buffy.
Their father was sending a generous check every month, and between that, their mom's life insurance and social security payments for Dawn, and the money she was being paid by the council, they were managing very well.
With that particular problem off her mind, Buffy was able to concentrate on her slaying duties, and had thrown herself into them with a renewed passion, determined to never let another demon get the upper hand with her again.
She went out nearly every night, sometimes with her friends, but always with Spike beside her, and the word spread quickly through the demon grapevine that the slayer was back and was better than ever.
"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" Spike's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she smiled when he walked through the room carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
"Oh yummy...my favorite," Buffy said, clapping her hands with delight.
"Yeah, well...take it easy, lightweight." He pulled the cork and poured two glasses, then set the bottle on the night stand. Stretching out beside her on the bed, he leaned back against the pillows.
"Meaning?" she asked, polishing off the wine in three swallows and holding her glass out to be refilled.
"Meaning that the last time we did this," he replied while pouring her another glass, "you got drunk as a very cute little skunk and passed out before I could take advantage of you."
Buffy grinned. "Then you'd better get started with the advantage taking." She drained her glass and set it down beside the bottle.
Setting his glass next to hers, he said, "Anything my girl wants, she gets." He leaned over to kiss her, but she scooted away and off the bed. "Hey!" he complained, reaching for her.
"Hey nothing," she replied, heading into the bathroom. "You know how I am when I drink. Either I go now, or I go when we're in the middle of something fun. Take your pick."
"Go now," he said, shaking his head in amusement. He tugged off his boots and went to the window to close the curtains.
As he looked out on the empty street, his eye was caught by movement in the shadows as a figure stepped behind a tree. A car came down the street, it's headlights briefly lighting up the yard.
Spike stared more intently, feeling for a moment that he'd seen a familiar face staring up at their bedroom window.
"Whatcha looking at, handsome?" Buffy asked, sliding her arms around Spike's waist from behind.
He frowned slightly. "Nothing. I thought I..." He shook his head and turned to face her. "Just shadows, I guess.Nothing important."
"Well, look at me, then," she said. "I'm important, aren't I?"
"You," he informed her, leading her across the room, "are all that's important in the world right now. You're all there is."
Buffy smiled. "Oh, I like the sound of that." Sliding her hands up his chest, she began to unbutton his shirt.
He stopped her. "No, I'll do that. I want something else to unbutton." ." He took to the middle of the room, then glanced through a stack of CDs and selected one. Placing it in the CD player, he adjusted the volume to a low setting, then settled back on the bed.
Buffy looked at him with a question in her eyes as soft music began to play, a low alto sax with a seductive rhythm.
She watched as he reached over and turned the lamplight down to a mellow glow, then leaned back against the pillows.
He smiled at her. "Take off your clothes."
She returned his smile, then began to sway with the beat of the music. Her hips swung suggestively as she began to unbutton her shirt. When every button was unfastened, she let the blouse slip down over one shoulder as she turned around, glancing back at him through half closed eyes.
Instead of letting the blouse slide off, she reached up and pulled the clips out of her hair, letting it tumble down her back, nearly to her waist.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Buffy blew him a kiss. She knew how much he loved her hair. Months ago, when their love affair had really begun, he had lain beside her in bed, stroking her hair, and had begged her not to cut it. He touched it constantly, running his fingers through it when they made love, playing with it absentmindedly when they stretched out on the sofa together reading or watching television, and burying his face in it when they went to sleep.
Sometimes, he would come up behind her when she was brushing it and take the brush away from her. He would make her sit on the end of their bed and would run the brush through her hair himself, working out the tangles carefully and gently. Now, she ran her hands up under it, piling it on top of her head and holding it there while she danced for him, then released it, shaking her head to make it bounce and shimmer in the light.
"Beautiful," he said again as she turned to face him and began easing her blouse down her arms, letting it slide off.
She made another kiss at him, then reached behind her and unzipped her skirt, kicking it away when it puddled around her feet. Turning her back, she ran her hands down her arms, then her sides, in a slow self caress.
"Yeah," she heard him whisper.
Still facing away from him, Buffy looked over her shoulder and smiled as she lifted her hands and twisted open the front closure of her white lace bra. She pulled the cups apart, stretching the lace out from her body, then letting it slide down her arms. Instead of dropping it, she tossed it over her shoulder at him, knowing he would catch it.
"Come on, baby," he growled. "Let me see."
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and turned around. Still moving her hips, she shook her hair forward until it covered her breasts, then slowly dropped her arms.
He chuckled softly. "Tease," he called her, his eyes devouring her as she stood before him clad in nothing but a scrap of white lace underpants.
"That's right," she said in a breathy voice. "I'm a tease." She widened her eyes innocently. "Want to see?" she asked, glancing down at her covered breasts.
"Yeah," he said, his voice low. Buffy watched as he slid his hand over the snug crotch of his jeans, pulling at them as they suddenly became very tight.
She could see how uncomfortable he looked. "Maybe you should unzip them," she suggested in the same innocent tone.
He swallowed hard and unbuckled his belt, then carefully unzipped his fly. "Look at what you do to me."
"Oh," she cooed sweetly. "I'm a bad girl, aren't I?" She moved her shoulders to the music, making her breasts sway.
"You're a VERY bad girl." He was using that ultra deep, sexy voice that she loved, as he moved his hand into the opening of his jeans.
"Shall I stop?" she asked, running her tongue over her upper lip.
"No, baby." He shook his head. "Don't every stop being my bad girl."
Buffy moved her hands to cover her breasts, then shook her hair back over her shoulders. Spreading her legs in a wider stance, she waited for a crescendo in the music, then flung her arms straight up, like she was reaching for a star. She held the pose until the music started again. When she looked at him, she was surprised to see that he had crawled down to the end of the bed. One arm
shot out and grabbed her hand, and she gasped as she was hauled roughly down onto the bed.
Spike shoved her onto her back, then rolled over on top of her and tangled one hand in her hair. His mouth came down on hers with no gentleness or finesse, driven by raw lust.
Before she could get her arms around him, he pulled away from her and rose to his knees. "Not yet,' he said.
Buffy was losing control over her own arousal. "But why?" she panted.
He reached for her and brought her up beside him. Taking both of her hands in his, he placed them over her breasts.
"Touch yourself," he whispered hoarsely. "I want to watch."
She felt a bolt of pure sexual excitement rush through her. This was new, and she loved doing new things with him. The tricks he had taught her since they'd begun sleeping together never failed to drive her wild. It was Spike who had taught her about the pleasure to be found while making love in water. She had come home from the market, and after putting the groceries away, had gone upstairs to change into her workout clothes.
When she'd walked into the bathroom, she'd found it illuminated entirely by candlelight, and the tub filled with steamy, scented water. There was a mound of ice cubes in the sink, with a champagne bottle wedged into them. The door had closed behind her, and she had turned around to see her lover standing in front of it wearing a pair of black silk pajama pants and holding out a long stemmed red rose. Before she knew what had happened, he had her stripped naked and in the tub, and run running a sponge heavy with fragrant lather all over her body. Spike's capacity for romance never failed to amaze her. By the time they'd finished, there was an inch of standing water on the floor, and the champagne had ended up in places she'd never expected it to.
Water play wasn't limited to the tub with him. He made a point of regularly interrupting her in the middle of a shower. He would push her up against the tile and lick drops of water off her skin, then drop to his knees and go down on her while the hot water pelted them both.
After bringing her to climax, he would place his hands under her bottom and lift her, then slide her up and down his cock until he came. Kissing her sweetly, he would leave the shower. All this would be done without a word spoken between them. He was endlessly inventive with sex, teaching her how
to play games, showing her new techniques and positions, and instructing her in the art of using food and drink in erotic play.
Spike was a devoted teacher, and Buffy was an eager student as he initiated her into a whole new world of sensuality.
Her previous sexual experience had been so limited that she was constantly surprised by him.
She'd only had one night with Angel, and she'd been so young and naive that he hadn't wanted to frighten her or seem too demanding. He had been gentle with her untried body, so desperately afraid that he would hurt her that he'd held himself back and never really released his full passion. Of course, he had thought that there would be all the time in the world for him to teach her the wonderful possibilities of intimacy. Her second lover, if you could call him that, had been
one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She had been so eager to explore the budding sexuality that Angel had roused in her, that she had allowed Parker to seduce her with charm, good looks, and a phony air of sensitivity, without ever really getting to know him. It was tawdry behavior on her part, and the next morning she had gotten exactly what she'd deserved...hurt and humiliation. She had learned from that mistake, and when Riley came into her life, she had taken things slowly. When
their relationship had taken it's natural course, Buffy had been certain that she'd finally found a man who could show her all the pleasures of sex that she'd been yearning for. But, Riley had little imagination or the stamina needed to please her. Many times he had left her unsatisfied,
forcing her to resort to self stimulation to quiet her unfulfilled need. Buffy had never been able to bring herself to tell him what she needed him to do, which made her think that perhaps the fault lay with her. This would make her feel guilty, and she would end up trying too hard to find her own release. The worst part of the problem was the fact that Riley never thought anything was wrong, had never noticed that he was not satisfying her. By the time he'd left, she had begun to wonder if
this was going to be the pattern of her life, and if she had expected too much from the sex act. Perhaps life was not a romance novel containing wildly fantastic, utterly mind blowing, totally pleasurable sex every ten pages. She knew better now. Her life had BECOME one of
those romance novels, different only in the fact that her novel had the fantastic sex every two pages. With Spike, she had finally found the man who could please her AND go on and on, never tiring, never losing control. He had never, not even once, left her unsatisfied and aching. In fact, he had been the lover that introduced her to the concept of multiple orgasms. Spike had proven his strength and stamina on the first night they had made love. It had started with a fight. Back then, everything they did seemed to start with a fight. She had only been back amongst the living for a
few weeks, and she'd found that Spike was more firmly entrenched in her world than ever.
But it hadn't bothered her. He had proven his loyalty to her and Dawn, and Buffy knew that if he could have died in her place, he would have. The night she came back, when everything had
been so confusing and frightening, the quiet sound of his voice had comforted her. He had come to the house looking for Dawn, frantic at her sudden disappearance, and his shouting had startled Buffy at first. Once she'd realized who was downstairs, she'd had an urge to run to him, to tell him that she was alive. She'd seen the wonder in his eyes when he'd realized that it was not the robot standing before him. He had been as tender as she'd ever known him to be, kind and almost sweetly uncertain of his place with her. She hadn't wanted him to leave, but the others had
all rushed in with frightened, worried faces, and he had gone before she could rouse herself to stop him. She had almost sent Dawn after him, but by the time everyone had gone home or to bed, she had been so unbearably tired that she fell asleep on the sofa. Life had slowly resumed it's natural course. She did her job at night and took care of her home and her sister during the day. She had also resumed her denial of wanting anything to do with Spike, but he'd been too persistent, dismantling her walls one at a time with casual flirtation and unexpected, passionate kisses. When the final brick in her defenses was removed, Spike had acted before she could slap it back in
and seal it with the mortar of her insecurity and fear. When she'd finally caved in, they had beaten the mutual crap out of each other, as they'd done many times before. But it was different this time. There was an undercurrent of sexual arousal just barely beneath the surface of their anger.
When she couldn't stand it anymore, she'd shoved him up against a crumbling plaster wall inside a broken down house, kissing him so hard that her lips felt bruised. He had been surprised, but he'd recovered quickly and had made violent love to her, standing up and holding her completely off the ground. The entire act had taken place in silence, save for their harsh panting and groaning, and the metallic sound of Spike's belt buckle and zipper. It had been hot and raw and fast, pure sex in it's
most basic form, with no gentle touches and no foreplay. She had simply yanked her skirt up and moved her underpants to one side.
Only a matter of moments passed before they had reached a powerful climax, grinding themselves into each other as their bodies exploded in the bliss of simultaneous orgasm.
She'd lost count of how many times and ways they'd had each other during that long night, before their bodies said "ENOUGH, ALREADY!" and had put them to sleep.
The next morning, Buffy had awakened to find that the building had almost come down around their
ears without them noticing it.
Asking him if he knew what had happened, she'd gotten a smart ass comment about it being sometime between their first encounter and their fourth....or maybe their twenty-fourth, who knew?
She had muttered something under her breath about shoddy carpentry and how no one seemed to take pride in their work anymore, then had crawled back into the shelter of his arms.
After another go-round, he had confessed to her that he'd always known the only thing more exciting
than fighting with her, would be making love to her, a comment that had made her even more pliable in his arms.
Once the initial barrier had been breached, there had been no holding them back. Their bodies,
both long deprived of sexual release, had begun to rule their common sense, making them take ridiculous chances of being caught in the act.
The closest they'd come to discovery had been in the basement of the Magic Box. Thinking about it
still made her cheeks redden. She had been in the basement taking inventory, so completely bored that her teeth fell asleep. There were four or five customers upstairs, plus Xander, Willow and Anya.
When she'd heard soft footsteps on the stairs, her skin had begun to tingle, telling her who was approaching. She hadn't turned around, or acknowledged his presence in any way, until she felt his arms wrapping around her waist.
One hand had moved up the front of her body, taking the clipboard away from her and tossing it to one side.
Her eyes had drifted shut when he'd whispered, "I want you now," as he'd lifted her skirt.
When she'd felt him slip his fingers into the elastic of her underpants, her eyes had flown open and
she'd cast a sidelong glance at the basement door.
Trying to maintain a little control, she had whispered to him that they couldn't do it there, that someone might come.
He had laughed softly, assuring her that someone WOULD come, there was no "might" about it. He'd then pushed his hand deeper between her legs. Buffy had grabbed his arm and tried to dislodge his hand, until he found the place that always made her scream, and massaged it firmly.
The moment he'd touched her there, her head had dropped back against his chest, and she'd taken
his other hand and placed it over her breast.
As he'd fondled and squeezed her, she had reached behind her with one hand and caressed the hard bulge between his thighs. He had groaned softly, pushing her panties down and unzipping his fly to release his steel hard erection.
Placing her hands flat on the wall to brace her, he'd pushed her legs farther apart, then positioned
himself and penetrated her with agonizing slowness. Holding onto her hips, he had begun to thrust, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and depth. With his lips against her ear, he'd whispered to her about how tight and hot she was, how he wanted to pound into her until they were both senseless with pleasure, urging her to let herself go...to come...to do it for him.
Fear of discovery had added an even fiercer urgency to the act, which only intensified the pleasure.
Feeling the onset of her orgasm, he had clapped one hand over her mouth, then buried his face
against the side of her neck, his teeth biting down gently.
His free hand had moved back down between her legs to play with her clit, making her come at the
same instant that he exploded inside of her.
Moments later, as she stood panting with her cheek pressed against the wall, he had carefully withdrawn from her and adjusted his clothing. Leaning close, he had murmured, "Thank you, baby," then went back upstairs.
She had finished the inventory with a idiotic smile on her face that no one understood.
TBC....
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Over and Done With