Buffy and Spike lay, unmoving, for long minutes as they waited for the claim to take effect.  Completely overwhelmed by the magnitude of what had just happened, neither felt any need to shift their positions; Spike remained semi-erect inside her as they contented themselves with slow, languorous kisses and teasing touches, small nipping bites to accessible skin followed by soothing licks.  The contact was both intensely erotic and tremendously comforting, the touches of lovers secure in their relationship and the knowledge that they have their forevers stretched out before them.    

Buffy tensed a bit as something inside her started to change—almost imperceptible at first, but steadily growing in intensity.  Such a strange sensation, she thought—a niggle in the pit of her stomach that brightened to an almost incandescent heat before reducing itself to an all-encompassing warmth.  She gasped as it took hold, realizing that it burned with the force of Spike’s love for her—as if she needed it, she now had physical proof of just how much he loved her, and it took her breath away.

Spike took in the slight unfocused look of her eyes and the little gasp of pleasure that she gave and realized that his claim had formed.  He couldn’t help the cocky grin that shaped his lips as he took in the look of ecstasy on her face, although it widened into something much more boyish and awestruck as he felt her claim begin to take shape inside him.  He hadn’t really known what to expect any more than she had, and the torrid rush that swept through him made him almost think he was alive again.  The brief fire dimmed slightly to a glow that radiated through him, stoking both his passion and his affection and returning both in kind.  He looked down at her, saw her watching him with such utter joy that he knew in an instant exactly what the claim was showing him.  This was how she loved him—passionately, affectionately, completely and with such devotion it shook him to his core.

Buffy looked up at him and recognized the second he felt it, the very moment he could truly grasp every aspect of her love for him.  She had long known how deeply he loved her, how he felt—he had spoken the words and performed the actions, leaving no room for doubt in his wake.  He had mourned her passing and honored her death, guarded her sister and supported her friends; comforted her and loved her as best he could when love was something she couldn’t recognize; hurt her and been so devastated that he had sought and won his soul as recompense; given his life so that she might live.  Everything he had done had borne out the utter limitlessness of his ardor and devotion. 

Buffy herself had demonstrated no such clarity of emotion or deed, a truth of which she had been painfully aware while she had mourned his sacrifice.  He had died afraid to believe that she loved him because she had trained him to never take her on faith, to never believe that the ground on which they stood together was any more stable than shifting sand.  Now that he was back with her she was determined that he would never have reason to doubt her love again.  She, too, had seen the best and the worst of him and come to the conclusion that he was one hell of a man.  She smiled up at him and focused all of her energies on pouring everything she felt through their nascent bond.

He stilled and felt himself grow impossibly hard inside her as she used the bond for the first time, sending a bolt of adoration mixed with lust and joy coursing through him.  He began to rock his hips gently against her, thrusting unhurriedly as he focused on transferring his own wealth of emotion to her.  They exchanged wicked grins as her walls tightened almost painfully around him in response to the lust he had conveyed.

Oh, but this was going to be fun.

There was to be no delicate tenderness to this round of lovemaking.  Now that vows of love and reassurance had been given and accepted, the frenzied hunger that had characterized their relationship until their most recent coupling was again making its presence felt. 

Spike growled low in his throat as he rolled onto his back.   He added an arched brow to the smile already gracing his face as Buffy’s lower lip jutted out into a pout before she began to rock her hips gently against his.  “Expecting to get royally ravaged, were you then?”

“Well, I did have certain… hopes,” Buffy replied, the last reply more a moan than a word as she shifted until she was upright, the tip of his shaft pressing against her womb.  “But if you’d rather not oblige me, I might have to make my own fun.”

“’m a bit spent at the moment, luv.  You might need to drive for a bit.  Let me get my strength back an’ all,” he teased, lascivious grin and lust-darkened eyes putting the lie to his words.

“Well, you are, like, really old,” Buffy snarked playfully as she rose up on her knees, sliding up until he slid out of her.  They both groaned in protest, but she moved quickly to reposition herself, using tiny surges of her hips to slide her slickened lips slowly along the underside of his shaft.  She gasped as the head of his cock brushed against her clit, then smiled as his eyes rolled back in their sockets.  His hands flew up to grip her waist, and she was certain that she would have his handprints tattooed in livid purple on her flesh for at least a week when she was finished.  *Good ,* she thought rapturously as the rocking of her hips increased slightly in speed, keeping the friction intense but still controlled, focusing on her teasing.  “Told you I’d make my own fun if I had to,” she said, voice husky as she slid one hand down her torso to flick and twist her clit gently.  Unsurprisingly, Spike’s eyes followed her hand and widened as he took the sight that awaited his gaze.

“Christ, Buffy,” Spike gasped out.  She had never done this before—let him watch her touch herself.  He had done everything short of outright pleading… and bleedin’ hell how much harder he would’ve begged if he’d had even a clue of how mindbendingly erotic the realization of the fantasy would be.  “That’s it, luv… show me… bloody… beautiful little… vixen… so wet… burning,” he panted, hands on her hips attempting to shift her faster towards a more frenzied rhythm.

“Ah, ah, ah, Spike.  My fun, my rules,” Buffy teased, resisting his attempts at taking control of her game and maintaining her pace.  She was imminently close to her orgasm, but she was trying to hold on; she’d never felt such a complete rush of sexual power as the one that had shot through her body when his eyes traveled from her caressing hand up to her face and back again.  Why exactly had she never done this before?

A sudden wave of lust nearly knocked her off of him, and she looked down to see a too-innocent face topped by eyes positively glittering with their deviousness.  “You sneaky bastard,” she gasped appreciatively, finding it very hard to complain about his use of the claim when it resulted in such absolutely sinful sensations.  “Oh god,” she whimpered as she began to move her fingers faster, circling around her clit in a tease before flicking it directly. 

She wasn’t going to be able to make it much longer, damn him… she closed her eyes and dropped her head back, letting him use his grip on her hips to control her sweeps along his length as she focused on the movement of her fingers.  If she was going over, she wasn’t doing it alone… concentrating on the surges of pleasure resulting from their combined actions and the burgeoning heat in her belly, she funneled as much as possible through the claim before she gave over to the orgasm that wouldn’t hold off any longer.  “Spike!” she cried loudly, giving over to mindless babble as both hands moved to his stomach, nails clawing at his abs as she fought desperately to stay upright.

It was the orgasm that snapped his control, tearing through her while the bond between them was still open.  Spike’s commanding growl resonated through the room as he used his hold on her hips to flip her backwards onto the bed, rising onto his knees and thrusting forward into her at lightning speed.  She shrieked as he rammed home, sending her into a second climax before the first had finished, and his powerful thrusts pushed her backwards across the bed until her head and shoulders dangled from the end.  Grasping for purchase, she dug her nails into his ass, holding on desperately as she shuddered and stammered her pleasure.  

“Absolutely… fucking… glorious… woman,” Spike ground out in time with his thrusts.  “Perfect… little… quim… perfect… little… mate,” he continued, feeling Buffy contract around him and watching the bliss pass across her face.  “Love… you… Buffy,” he groaned and stiffened, thrusting jerkily and feeling his balls tighten as release grew imminent.

Buffy turned her head and bared her neck, whimpering.  “Please, baby… please… love you… need you.”  She was beyond lightheaded as a result of both her position and the near-constant orgasms coursing through her, but god how she wanted him again, wanted his bite during this harshly passionate coupling. 

Spike tried to pull back even as his demon came forward, but she wouldn’t let him; hands sliding up from his ass, she pressed his head against her neck and screamed as his fangs penetrated and just as quickly withdrew.  He managed somehow to run his tongue along his marks and rasp out “love… mate… Buffy!” before giving over to pants, groans, and growls as his cock spasmed inside her clenching passage.  Their mouths met and mated as fiercely as their bodies had as they spent the last of themselves and began to slowly come down from their pleasure.

It was Buffy’s girlish giggle that shook him from his torpor.  Pulling his face back from the crook of her neck and leaning up on his elbows, he looked down at her and couldn’t help but join in her merriment.  The rich baritone sound joined with her higher-pitched tinkling laughter and filled the room, making it instantly warmer from the joy contained within. 

“You look a bit flushed, luv,” Spike commented between bursts of laughter.  Being upside down for the better part of a shag had turned her a bit more than rosy in the face, and combined with the completely bedraggled look of her hair and the sweat that sheened her skin, she looked well and truly wanton and thoroughly ravaged.  Who was he kidding—she looked positively edible.

“You’re one to talk there, luv ,” Buffy teased back, gripping his elbows as he slid his hands under her shoulders and pulled her back onto the bed.  “For somebody whose body stays at room temperature, it looks like you’ve gotten all sweaty.  And your face isn’t exactly lily-white at the moment either!”

“Ooh… feisty little wench, aren’t you?” he asked, bending to claim her mouth in a remarkably chaste kiss.  Brushing his lips softly against hers, he ran his tongue gently across her lower lip before pulling back.  “What would you say to a shower, kitten?”

“I think I would ask if you thought I smelled,” Buffy pouted playfully, allowing him to nibble at her bottom lip for a moment before she pushed him off of her and stood.  “Now up, mate of mine.  You promised me clean.  After clean will come snuggly talky bits and more shagging, so move it.”  Buffy looked over at him, only to see him staring at her as he sat stock-still.  “Spike?  Honey?”

“Say that again,” he begged hoarsely, eyes burning heatedly into hers.  “Say it again, Buffy.  Please.”

Buffy ran her last statement back through her head, trying to figure out what he wanted to hear.  It only took a moment for her to realize what he was reacting to, what he wanted repeated.  He had said it before; she hadn't, not until now.  She stood up and walked around the bed to stand in front of him, arms around his shoulders.  “I said, mate of mine,” she paused, watching the beatific grin form across his features, “that I want to shower, and snuggle, and talk, and shag, though at least two of those can be combined.  How does that strike you, my mate?”  Her deliberate repetition of the word made the already enormous smile grow even wider, and she couldn’t resist brushing her lips against his.  Taking his hand, she stepped back as he rose from the bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling away.  “Now to the bathroom.  Lead me, brave warrior.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Well, that was just... neat,” Spike crowed, watching lecherously from the bed as Buffy towel-dried her hair as she stood by the dresser. 

“Neat?” Buffy asked, more than a little offended by the paltry compliment.  “What do you mean, neat?  This has been ‘great big night o’ naughty firsts’ for Buffy and it’s only NEAT for you?” she finished, hands on hips and eyes narrowed.

“Well, yeah, luv.  Everybody starts somewhere below the top, you know... need somethin’ to work towards an’ all,” he taunted, baiting her as he stared absolutely transfixed at the naked breasts now perfectly framed by arms crossed in annoyance.

Buffy's mouth opened and her eyes widened; he could just see the rant of righteous indignation taking shape in her brain.  After only a fraction of a second she snapped her mouth shut, narrowed her eyes, and moved towards him with predatory grace.  “Spikey dear... seems like I’m one up on you and your little mind games now,” she said calmly, with more than a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes.  “And you had better thank the Powers for that, too, because I can promise you I would happily be Mrs. Big Pile of Dust if I didn’t know from the claim that you were jerking ... me ... around !”

Spike burst out laughing at the mixture of annoyance, amusement, and affection gracing her features and reached out to wrap his arms around her waist.  With lightning speed he tugged her down to the bed beside him as he himself stretched out, and she curled like a kitten into his side, head on his shoulder.

“Mean,” she grumbled playfully, biting his nipple as punishment before she moved her head back to his shoulder and tilted back to look at him.

“’m a bad, rude man, it’s true,” he agreed cheerfully, arm coming to rest around her waist and hand beginning to trace small patterns on her lower back.  “But it was funny, you standing there all puffed up and righteous… kinda like the old days.  ‘Sides, made your chest look exquisite.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him and sucked in her cheeks in a failed attempt to short-circuit her grin.  “So… anything you wanna ask me?” she teased playfully, knowing full well he had at least one question that he was nearly choking on.

Spike rolled up onto his elbow, facing her, and Buffy scooted up until her head was on the pillow.  Looking down into her eyes, he was still amazed at the depth of feeling he saw there, and he mirrored the relaxed smile that she gave him.

“Buffy, you claimed me.”  It wasn’t a question—more an awestruck declaration, really—but that was the only thing he really cared about at the moment.

“I told you I wasn’t letting you go again, Spike.  When you were gone, it was—it was a lot like being yanked out of heaven again, really.  I wasn’t warm or safe or complete anymore.  All I could think of were those nights with you in the basement, when I felt like we could take on anything because we were together.  I kept the picture in my mind of that night in the kitchen, when I told you I was there with you in that house—that look of joy on your face.  I used it as proof that I had made you truly happy at least once… that I had been at least a little bit good for you, even though you put everything you had into being good for me.”  The tears came unbidden, and she didn’t even try to wipe them away. 

“Every time I tried to sleep I would hear you whisper ‘Honey, I’m home’ and feel you in my arms and I wouldn’t dare open my eyes again because I knew you wouldn’t be there.  It hurt because you had died without believing that I loved you, because I had known for a while that I did—I just always thought there would be time later to tell you, to make some grand romantic gesture, and then all of a sudden there wasn’t any time at all.  You gave everything you had to me, Spike, and I just took it all, but I never gave anything back but crumbs… and you made do.  But they weren’t enough for you, Spike… you deserved everything I had, and I was too scared to let go and give it to you.”  The tears came faster now, and she stared at him through flooded green orbs, begging him to understand, to forgive her for the way she’d left things between them for so long.     

Spike reached over and wiped Buffy’s eyes gently with the pad of his thumb, ignoring the stinging in his own.  “’s okay, luv.  We’re here now… an’ you did the best you could then.  Had enough on you without…”

Buffy silenced him by placing her index finger across his lips.  “Don’t excuse what I did, Spike.  Forgive me, if you can, but don’t say it’s okay… it’s not.”

Spike nodded, his own tears falling freely now, and he sniffed and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.  “When did you… when did you love me?  When did you know?” he asked softly.

“The night that Giles and Principal Wood… when I realized what Giles was doing I was so scared, and I ran faster than I ever had.  I just knew—I had to get to you in time, and while I was running I realized that there would never be anyone else as completely perfect for me as you.  We were made for each other, Spike.  No one has ever understood me like you do, or even tried to… or even wanted to.  I knew that if I didn’t get to you in time part of my life wouldn’t be worth living anymore.  And that’s when I knew.  I think I’d loved you even longer… I think I started to the day you took Mom and Dawn in… and when I came back and saw you with Dawn, watching over her… and when you had counted the days and you watched over me…”

Buffy trailed off for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath before she continued.  “I think it’s safe to say I’d been falling for a while, but seeing you walk out of that shed I knew, and it took my breath away.  I should’ve told you then, but I was just so relieved I couldn’t speak.  Or that night in the house, but I was so numb, and I needed you so much… and I was selfish, again.  I took from you and didn’t give back… but I tried to show you.  I tried to let you feel it in my arms, even if I couldn’t get the words out yet.  And when you told me it was the best night of your life, I thought that maybe you had felt at least some of it.  But I wasted so many chances… was such a fool… and you didn’t know.  You weren’t sure of my love, the way I was always sure of yours.  I failed you.”

“Luv, you didn’t…”

“Please, Spike—please let me finish?”  At his nod, she drew another shaky inhale and gave him a watery grin.  “When Andrew told me that you were alive, or, well, here… I knew that I had a second chance—that somehow I’d gotten lucky enough to have the chance to do the right thing this time.  And I knew that I’d been right—that there was no one else but you for me in this world, and that you felt the same way about me.  So I told Giles I wanted all of the books he had with him on vampires, and when he asked what I wanted to know I told him I wanted to research a claim.” 

Off Spike’s shocked look, she smiled at him, even managing a little giggle.  “I wasn’t going to lie, and I wasn’t going to let him stop me, Spike—that was the first chance I had to do the right thing by you this time, and I did it.  He just handed me the books—he had gotten them together when he heard Andrew say that you were back.  He told me to think carefully but to listen to my heart; that he was proud of the woman I’ve become and trusted me to do what was best.  So I did—I thought, and I researched, and I memorized the ritual and I figured out where I wanted to mark you, and where I wanted your mark on me.  I wanted you as my mate, Spike—there could never be anyone else.”

Spike was elated and overwhelmed and… well, he was fighting off William and the urge to find pen and paper immediately.  This was by far the most honest with her feelings he had ever seen Buffy, and he knew that she meant every word.  Lying there face to face, he could see it clearly in her eyes, and he could feel it through the claim.  He had no idea how to respond, or what to say.  He closed his eyes and focused on his joy and sent it through to her, and as her gasp of wonderment parted her lips he leaned over and kissed her gently, a slow, sweet kiss that promised more than words ever could. 

He pulled back reluctantly, eager to lose himself in her again yet needing to be as honest with her as he had been with him.  Lying in bed on their sides, facing each other, talking quietly… it all just seemed so domestic; he had to let her know just how much their mating meant to him.  “Buffy, no one’s ever really wanted me like this before,” he began, raising his eyebrow in a successful effort at shushing her as she opened her mouth to object. 

“Home truths, luv… ‘ve never really belonged anywhere.  As a human I was a right ponce.  A good man, but not one of the crowd; was content to stay home and take care of mum and moon over birds from afar.  The one night I didn’t, the night I tried to belong, I found Dru—well, she found me.  An’ with her… well, she loved me as best she could, and God only knows I loved her, but I didn’t fit there either.  Dru will always belong to Angelus, always ‘til she’s dust—he made her that way; but then she went an’ made me.  He didn’t want anyone around that wouldn’t accept his authority, ‘n I’d had enough of bowin’ and scrapin’ when I was a human.  I was good enough for her to care for an’ play with, an’ they both knew I’d take care of her, but I was more a lover than a mate.  I was her diversion—not her world.  Not like she was mine.”

Buffy simply squeezed his hand more tightly, letting him finally verbalize things he’d obviously been wrestling with for years.  Once again she was amazed by the man in front of her, the sheer depth of feeling and devotion that he possessed.  He really didn’t know any other way to exist than to throw himself into the world around him, to keep loving and hoping to be loved.  So many years he must’ve felt so alone.  She blinked back the tears that had formed and snapped her attention back to him.  He wasn’t alone anymore.

“Then came the damned chip and me throwin’ in with you lot,” he gave a short bark of self-deprecating laughter before continuing.  “Don’t think I’ve ever belonged anywhere less than with the Scoobies, but time went by and it started to feel right… well, less wrong… like I could belong.  An’ then I fell in love with you, an’ I knew that my place was by your side… whether I wanted it, whether any of you wanted me, whether you ever accepted me… I belonged with you.  Even after I… even when I woke up in that cave in Africa crazed with the guilt from the soul I just knew I had to get back to you, that with you was where I needed to be.  An’ when you told me you believed in me, saved me from the First… all those nights after that when we would have these tiny moments—well, I knew you’d seen it too… that you felt how right we were, even if it scared the hell out of you.  And so it was enough.  I wanted with everything in me to believe you in the hellmouth, and in a lot of ways I did, but…  Told  you once I saved you every night in my dreams—didn’t stop when Red brought you back and I saw how shattered it left you.  So I couldn’t have stopped what I was doing in that cavern—not when I was finally really saving you.”

Buffy’s tears were coming faster now, and she wiped quickly at them before wiping his away with delicate fingers.  He smiled tremulously at her, and she knew that these words had been so long in coming for him… she could feel his relief that he’d finally gotten to tell her, that she was finally listening and accepting how he felt. 

“I already told you ‘bout when I showed up in Peaches’ office, luv.  He told me you didn’t really care about me, that even when you were with me you had been thinkin’ ‘bout him, that you’d never really love anybody but him… all these little nasties that I tried not to believe but that still cut so bleedin’ deep.  Once I finally got my body back I was too soddin’ cowardly to find you… afraid it really wouldn’t matter to you, afraid you wouldn’t care.  So to see you tonight, to have you in my arms… that means everything.  But to have you claim me, to be your mate… God, Buffy, I don’t think I’ll ever come any closer to heaven.”

He closed the tiny amount of distance that remained between them, and their already tangled fingers clasped more tightly.  “I love you with everything that I can ever possibly be, Buffy Summers,” he whispered against her mouth before teasing her lips open gently with his tongue. 

Buffy moaned against his mouth and brought her leg up to drape over his hip, wrapping herself around him as best she could.  Breaking the kiss for an instant, she murmured, “You are the best man I will ever know, Spike, and I love you with all of me.”  

Their lips came back together, the pressure greater this time.  He positioned himself against her and pressed forward, sliding himself fully inside her waiting channel in one strong, gentle thrust.  Their hips rocked with no sense of hurry or urgency, slow thrusts and leisurely kisses allowing their exhausted bodies the pleasurable respite of connection once again.  The outside world lost all meaning, and it could have been hours or only minutes that they surged gently together before their ardor overtook them.  Their hands unclasped, Spike’s moving to cup Buffy’s breast and tease the tightened nipple while hers moved to trace the strong lines and contours of his face before running through his hair.  Whispered vows of love broke into short strangled cries, muffled by their joined mouths, as they came together in a climax as gentle yet fully enthralling as their coupling.
 
Spike rolled them the half-turn to the bed, and Buffy’s head quickly tucked itself into the crook of his neck.  He leaned down, pressing one last good-night kiss against her lips, and their “I love you”s were whispered while their lips still touched.  Closing his eyes, Spike drifted off to sleep, imprinting this glorious night upon his mind as the best of his long existence.  As she curled against him and closed her eyes, Buffy made the same change to her memories before following him into dreams.