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Chapter 7
 
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When Buffy woke it was mid afternoon. The sun had dipped enough for the leaves above to glow emerald rather than pale green, though it was still deliciously warm. Her pillow remained fast asleep.

Looking the picture of innocence, Spike lay sprawled underneath her, dark lashes obscuring his knowing gaze for once. Giving in to temptation, she ghosted her hand over his face, following the sharp contours of his cheekbones and aquiline nose, the sensuous mouth that spoke of pleasure and teasing…and a small boy’s petulance. The combination was devastating.

One arm pressed her body to his; the other was buried in the fabric of her dress. A small twitch of his fingers and she realised just where his other hand rested, instantly explaining why she’d woken up feeling so languid and aroused. ‘Oh God’.

As if in answer, a blunt finger eased a little inside her, rubbing with tiny movements as his hand cupped her sex in a proprietary fashion. With a furious jolt and rush of fluid, she contracted around the invasive digit.

A little breathless, terrified he’d wake up; Buffy gently gripped his wrist and eased the exploring hand away, watching intently for signs of wakefulness. Incredibly thankful that Spike remained asleep, Buffy wriggled free and shakily got to her feet. Another long look at her companion and she was gone.

A few seconds ticked by. Gradually a smile crept over a previously impassive face. Raising a hand, sparkling juices found the tip of a long tongue. With a sigh, the fingers slid between pouting lips to suck on her. Spike’s eyes opened, full of mischief, then drifted shut in rapture.

‘Soon, little Buffy… soon… then there’ll be no more running away from me… ever.’

***

Another day passed.

Buffy was healing nicely but Tarah insisted on renewing her dressings at frequent intervals to prevent infection. She wasn’t used to such friendliness from others and found herself craving the affection so freely given. As if sensing her inner turmoil, the healer would quietly fuss over her human patient more than was strictly necessary.

Emotions long buried were threatening to overwhelm Buffy and there were moments when she wanted nothing more than to rest her head in Tarah’s lap and cry; for a mother gone, friends lost or never made, for a life spent hiding her otherness from others. Even Dorn had let go of some of her suspicions and sought her company, revealing a rather lonely young girl hiding behind a waspish tongue.

Buffy suspected that it wouldn’t be long before they would leave, no longer needed. Trouble was, she badly wanted them to stay; as long as they were around Buffy could push the dilemma that was Spike to the back of her mind. Their presence meant that the newly weds remained polite, friendly even, and, if not a courtship, they were at least comfortable in each other’s presence. And if she couldn’t look him in the eye after their little encounter in the woods, well, he didn’t seem to notice.

It wasn't like Buffy was a virgin, but she wasn’t very experienced either; a smooth talking officer named Parker had coaxed her to give him her trust, and then her body. Her unguarded enthusiasm for the act had led to bruised ribs and a fractured pelvis - his - earning her the nickname ‘Nutcracker’.

A humiliated Parker had countered the sniggers directed his way by claiming that she was an inhuman slut, with tastes too dark for an upstanding, normal male like himself. Indeed, he seemed more than willing to let a succession of girls try to restore his faith in the love of a good woman...over and over again. And, if the occasional man did try his luck with Buffy after that mortifying episode, there was no way she could risk a repeat performance. Closing herself off seemed the only solution.

Trouble was, Spike had lit a fire in her womb, and she suspected that sex with him would be a very different experience. And that terrified her. The tingles that raced along her body whenever he was near were getting harder and harder to ignore.



***

Buffy wanted to be alone.

The domestic scene was too cosy; if she didn’t get used to it she wouldn’t miss it so much when it was gone. Staying only long enough to help wash up after breakfast, Buffy quietly slipped away, grateful her healing had progressed to the point where she could walk unaided.

She wandered with no destination in mind yet was not surprised when she found herself back at the lake.

Staring at the quiet expanse of water, jumbled images of black undulating forms, of ripping pain and an unlikely saviour, crowded in on the peaceful scene. Contemplating how swiftly her familiar life had turned upside down, Buffy asked herself if she really wanted to go back to her previous Iife, to lose what she’d tasted; the rich air, the pulsing life, the exquisite beauty of a world oblivious to its own natural wonders.

A breath of movement and two strong arms stole about her. With an effort of will, Buffy allowed herself to be enclosed. Spike dipped his head down to nibble gently on her neck before pulling away to share the scene.

“It’s safe to go in, you know. Lacuna, they’re very territorial, only one pair at a time live in a place like this and their dying will be remembered by the water, passed on. Will be many years before another like it will venture this far.”

“I’d love to go in. I’m all sticky from... from the heat and stuff. Just a little scared right now, okay?”

“Scared of monsters?”

“I can’t swim,” Buffy admitted.

“Then I’ll make sure you stay safe till you can. Stay here.”

Spike turned and vanished into the trees.

Buffy eased off her soft leather slippers - a gift from Tarah - and edged towards the barely lapping water, her feet sinking into the coarse wet sand. It was a fascinating sensation, the almost rough feel as it trickled between her wriggling toes.

A rustle and she looked up to find him returned. Wearing a seductive grin, nothing else, Spike was walking towards her.

With an involuntary ‘eep’ Buffy backed into the water, suddenly aware of the vulnerable position she was in.

Astonished by the very naked male regarding her from lowered eyes, she drank him in. Golden skin, perfect muscle definition, sleek, spare…and very, very dangerous. He was amazing.

Faint scars from old battles showed as pale scratches here and there, not marring but emphasising his wild beauty. Sliding her eyes up from his high arched feet, along his sinewy calves to strong thighs, Buffy finally took in how very male he was. A pattern of curling vines and leaves, painted in rusty red, encircled his proud cock. It was apparent that Aurelian’s really did have an advantage over humans in one respect.

“Spike, what’re you doing!”

“Out for a swim, pet.” Spike, looking as demure as he could manage, thrust some spongy weeds into her hands before veering off and diving headfirst into the water. She just stood there until he resurfaced, a dumbfounded expression on her face. Standing up, waist high in the refreshing lake, he shook his hair. A rainbow of droplets scattered.

“Its soapweed, just get it wet and rub it over your body. Soon have you all lathered up.” Laughing he flipped onto his back, pulling away into deeper waters with slow strokes.

***

The dry, springy plants were pale yellow, fine filaments forming a hollow mesh. A bit scratchy, they gave off a pleasing scent as she clutched them to her chest. As her thin dress billowed around her knees in the lake, Buffy realised she had a slight problem.

As if summoned, Spike returned. Finding his feet, he re-emerged a few yards away, regarding her carefully.

Buffy averted her eyes.

“Um... I can’t... what with the bandages and everything.”

“Want me to help?”

“No, it’s all right, really.”

“Would be no trouble at all... to help you, wouldn’t go anywhere you didn’t want me to go.”

As she bit her lip in indecision Spike slinked nearer, barely making a ripple. Gently tugging a ball of soapweed from her grasp, he moved behind her.

“Such a pretty thing,” he murmured in her ear before tilting her head forward. An arm now around her waist to keep her balanced, he dipped the soapweed and applied it to her bared neck.

“Such a sweet bundle of lush you are, all smudged and sticky. Let Spike make you feel better.”

Silky bubbles crept down to meet between her breasts as Spike inched around her throat, soapy fingers barely dipping under the edge of her now transparent covering.

Buffy had read all about ladies swooning and, until now, had wondered how supposedly sensible women could collapse for no reason. Now she knew.

Spike was doing a real number on her. Having thoroughly invaded the top half of her dress with seemingly impersonal strokes of the sponge, accidentally touching her with sly fingers till her skin shivered in delight, he was now crouched down, sliding foam up each leg. Higher and higher, carefully avoiding the dressing on her thigh.

Completely wet now, except for her hands raised at each side, Buffy looked down as he looked up. The picture of innocence, Spike smoothly pushed his hand further up to cup her bottom.

“Spread your legs, sweet thing. Let me get you really clean.”

Wordlessly, Buffy gripped his shoulders and moved her feet apart. She closed her eyes.

If she couldn’t see, it wasn’t happening, right?

Spike gathered another sponge and swirled it on the inside of her thighs, making them quiver before moving around to the dip of her spine with circular sweeps that encompassed her buttocks. Then it was back to her tummy, the soft spots in her groin. In fact, he went everywhere but the place she needed it most, where she was now throbbing with anticipation.

“Need to wash your hair now, Buffy.”

Ignoring her small whine of protest as he stopped caressing her, Spike lowered her onto her back in the now deeper water, soaping the strands that spread out around her like a sea anemone with one hand, as the other gave support.

Buffy floated in bliss, bandages long forgotten.

Hair now rinsed, he placed a soft kiss on her nose before reaching for the buttons at the front of her dress. Puffed up with air it looked a bit silly. She felt silly for wearing it.

Nodding in permission, she allowed him to remove the garment, uncaring when it drifted away.

Buffy looked coquettishly at her husband.

“You missed a bit.”

With a chuckle, Spike bent down slightly to nuzzle her cheek.

“Was saving the best till last.”

With a now openly possessive and lustful gaze, Spike ran a fingertip from the hollow of her throat, down, down, to detour around her breasts then back to her sternum. Travelling to take in the light bumps of her ribs, firm abdomen, narrow waist and the curve of her hips he eventually reached his goal.

At the first brush against her pubic hair, Buffy’s nerve endings woke up screaming. 'More! Now!'

As if he'd heard, Spike stopped his teasing tickles and pressed down, sliding knowing fingers around her scalding, swollen flesh, her clit jumping under the palm of his hand.

“Such a pretty quim you have, opening like a shy sea creature for the tide. Let me penetrate your defences, sweet Buffy, discover your treasures."

No longer passive, Buffy grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. Hard.

As they joined lips, Spike carefully pushed a finger inside her, moving it in and out, caressing her inner walls. Finding her most sensitive place, Spike concentrated on rubbing there, till, thrashing about in his grasp, the girl came undone with a cry.

Buffy lay limp, mildly wondering where she was, when she found herself lifted out of the water. Spike strode to shore, his prize pressed to his chest.

‘Okay, done the swooning, this must be the ravaging part’.

***

A few strides and they were in a small clearing. Spike’s shirt was spread out over a patch of springy moss, his jacket neatly folded on top, buttons hidden, forming a pillow.

“You planned this.”

“Planned, hoped, wanted.” Spike tightened his hold a little.

Buffy looked up, torn, but really wanting reassurance. She found it. Honest lust, affection and sexual confidence glowed in his eyes but he was also prepared for rejection. The choice was hers.

She made it.

“Okay.”

Not the most romantic response, but heartfelt.

Spike sank to his knees, his bundle of Buffy lowered onto the ground. Not giving her the chance to go all shy, he nudged his thighs between hers and gently gripped her wrists, placing them flat at either side of her head. Her eyes were like saucers. Without warning his lips latched onto her succulent mouth.

It was like descending into an inferno, his entire body crackled with the heat of her, ached to have her. Buffy tensed for a moment before she began to kiss him back, tasting his wildness. A shock ran through them both, a line of pleasure leading from mouth to nipples to painfully sensitized sex.

This was it. Foreplay could wait for another time.

Spike snaked a hand between her thighs. She was slippery with want and writhed against his fingers. As gentle as could be, Spike gripped his cock and pressed it against her opening. Buffy was mewling now, kissing and mock biting his throat, his chest, instinctively driving him crazy. Her legs wrapped around him pulling him towards her; he countered by holding still, resisting her strength. Chuckling in her ear, he nipped it gently before moving down her neck with whisper soft kisses. The more she tried to force him to enter her, the more he evaded her grip until she finally stilled underneath him.

“Want something, sweetness?”

Buffy glared back.

“Have to be sure, Buffy. Will you belong to me? Are you mine?”

Everything rested on her answer but the girl was too aroused to resist him now. Moving her hands to rest together above her head he unravelled the wet bandage from one of her wrists and swiftly looped it around the other. Not as formal as the ceremonial cuffs but it would serve its purpose. To distract her he brought one hand down to stroke her where they were joined.

“I can protect you and cherish you, make your body and your heart sing for me. No one else will ever give you this, make you feel like this.” He matched each word with a tiny push before pulling away again.

“Tell me you’re mine!”

“Yes, I’m yours, dammit.”

Satisfied with her response, Spike moved forward. Resting on his forearms he began to move more insistently inside her, hissing in a delicious agony at her tightness. Aided by the slippery juices that bathed his cock he gave little thrusts, pausing between each till she relaxed and took more of him into her.

Gods, she felt wonderful. Constricted as he was, Spike could feel her pulsing muscles both protesting and welcoming, they both grimaced then smiled at each other.

God, he felt wonderful. Buffy was amazed at the sensations running through her body. Taking up an easy rhythm now, he moved inexorably in and out. She might burst and scatter into a million pieces, but she couldn’t think of a better way to go. With legs bent, feet flat to the ground, she eagerly raised her pelvis to meet his.

Spike dipped and arched above her, brushing her aching nipples with his chest on each sweep, deeper and deeper until he was fully buried within her. Their eyes held as he picked up speed. All she could hear was their ragged breathing. All she could see were his blue eyes. She was drowning again, and it felt like heaven.

With complete abandon she unknowingly tore apart the bindings on her hands and brought them up around his back, legs wrapped around his muscular buttocks as he flexed and jerked in a sinuous slide against her body. Able to squeeze and grab, demand more without fearing the consequences, Buffy lost herself in an animal rhythm, until a star burst of ecstasy filled her veins and she screamed his name at the sky. As she came she clamped down hard around him until he too howled and thrust and shuddered in completion.

As Buffy lay dazed, he reached down and tilted her head to one side, burying his face in her neck. The bite, when it came, sent a wave of pleasure and pain rocketing through her body, and she could only hang on for dear life.

They both stilled. Raising his head, Spike regarded her with golden eyes, a trickle of her blood glistening on his lip. He looked proud, immensely satisfied, and perhaps a little guilty too. For the first time, Buffy saw the monster…and was unafraid.

Swish. Thud. The eyes she'd been looking into fluttered shut as Spike fell limp against her.

Registering another presence for the first time, Buffy saw a female soldier in full regulation uniform looking down in disgust, her rifle held like a club.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. This scum won’t be hurting you again.”

“What did you do?” Buffy’s voice cracked with shock. She instinctively cradled his head, finding the back warm and wet. She felt dizzy.

“What I had to.” The sympathetic look was replaced by a sneer as Buffy held her lover protectively. “A Watcher Station has been attacked, status unknown, two more have been destroyed. Anjell and his men have disappeared." Grinning viciously, she tore Buffy's new life apart. "The truce is off.”

***
 
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