Days in the Sun
The party was perfect.
Lisa celebrated her eighth birthday with her best friends; there was a delicious cake, games, and even a little magic thanks to her aunts Willow and Tara. Another great thing was that the party was siblings-free. Lisa loved her little sister, and Will, even if he was sometimes the most annoying brother in the world, but it was nice to have a party just for her on her special day. Joyce Anne napped for most of the afternoon, then aunt Willow and Tara took her with them when they left. As for Will, he was at their uncle Xander’s place, probably plotting against her with Jesse.
All afternoon long, she had a great time, and when her friends left a little before nightfall she thanked her mom and dad for a great party and great gift. Her birthday wasn’t over, though. She was now going to join Will and after dinner uncle Xander and aunt Anya were going to take her and the boys to see a movie. And since it was her birthday, they would let her pick whatever she wanted. After that, she and Will would sleep over at their place.
It was the best birthday ever. Of course, she had already thought that the year before. She was almost impatient for her next birthday to come, just to see if it would keep getting better and better.
At the second Buffy left to drive Lisa to the Harrises, Spike put his plan in motion. He had been on edge ever since the final details had come together in his mind, and he just knew that this was it, this time she wouldn’t be able to say anything but yes. She had to know he had something planned, since he had arranged for the kids to be elsewhere for the night, but that wasn’t in itself a surprise – they always celebrated in some way their escape from the Council’s clutches. What she didn’t know was that the celebration would take a different turn this year.
In five minutes, he had cleaned up the remains of the afternoon-long party. In five more, he had everything ready upstairs. And then came the hardest part. Wait for Buffy to come back. He could have used a cigarette. Or a drink. He didn’t allow himself either, though, and just waited as patiently as he could, reviewing the master plan in his mind once more, polishing every detail. This one plan couldn’t fail.
When she finally arrived, he greeted her at the door with a deep kiss and five words in his most honeyed voice:
“Do you trust me, luv?”
Her grin was answer enough even before she spoke. “With my life.”
He captured her lips again, and while she was distracted, produced a scarf from his pocket. When he broke the kiss, he tied it over her eyes as a blindfold. Her body stiffened, proof that she had not been expecting this, but he reminded her in a whisper “With your life…” and she nodded her assent as she relaxed again.
With his hands on her hips, he led her up to their bedroom. She was smiling when he made her sit on the edge of the bed and took off her shoes. By the time he started undressing her, she was blushing, and that amused him.
“Getting shy?” he purred in her ear. “Nothing I’ve never seen before.”
“Yeah, well, usually I can see too,” she mumbled back, and Spike chuckled.
“No need to see, pet. Just feel.”
He continued to undress her, unhurried, pressing silky lips to the skin he was uncovering, until she was naked and almost glowing with desire. He drew back a little then, and drank in the sight of her, trying to capture her image, burn it in his memory, promising himself not to ever forget, however long he lived.
“Spike?”
“Still there, luv. Just taking a minute to admire perfection.”
Her blush deepened, and he grinned to himself.
“Scoot up the bed, baby, would you? Just there, yes. Perfect.”
She was now lying in the center of the bed, arms at her sides, still smiling as she said:
“Whatever is coming had better be good, because it’s not fair that you get to look that much and I’m just waiting here.”
He laughed as he sat on the side of the bed next to her and picked up her right hand. He slowly kissed and nibbled on her fingers and palm before looping a length of silk around her wrist.
“Spike?”
This time, when she said his name, there was a definite edge of uneasiness to her voice. She didn’t like being restrained. She had admitted once that it made her feel like she had when they were caged. But they had been free for eight years tonight, and he knew she wouldn’t mind anymore very soon.
“With your life, remember?” he repeated again, and she nodded slowly and allowed him to tie the scarf to the headboard. He then repeated the process with her other hand. All it would take was a hard tug and she would be free – he made sure she knew that.
Once she was tied up, he knelt over her legs, the material of his jeans – the only thing he now wore – pressed to her bare skin. He leaned over her, resting on his forearm, his chest barely touching hers as she breathed, and whispered into her ear.
“Here are the rules of this game, luv. If you pull yourself free, I win. If you beg for mercy, I win. If you endure it all until sunrise without pleading or trying to escape, you win.”
He couldn’t see much of her face, because of the blindfold, but he was sure she was frowning.
“Endure what?” she asked guardedly. “And what’s the prize for the winner?”
“You’ll see soon enough what it is about. Nothing that you can’t take, though. As for the prize… if I win, you agree to marry me. If I lose, I promise never to ask you again.”
For a long moment, she was very still, and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. That was the only flaw of his plan, or so he thought. If she refused to play, it was all over right away.
And then, she took a deep breath. Smiled. Said “Alright.”
Without further warning, Spike attacked. Fingers, hands, blunt teeth, fangs, lips, tongue, feather, ice, candles, massage oil.
He was very determined to win.
There had been very close calls, but so far Buffy had not cracked under Spike’s torturous ministrations. She had not begged. Had not pulled on her flimsy restraints. Even though she very much wanted to. Spike knew her body so well, he had managed to keep her on the edge for literally hours, now, and she craved release, this release he wouldn’t give her, or so she had finally understood, unless she lost. And if she was honest with herself, she did want to lose. Not only to get the satisfaction her body was crying out for, but also, simply, because she did want to wed him. To celebrate and declare their love in front of their friends and family, make it official, legal. Even if they already belonged to each other, she had always hoped for a nice wedding day, something she could remember forever. But she still needed to know. To be sure that he was doing this for himself, too, and not just for her.
“Love?” she asked, still a little breathless, as he was taking one of these breaks that allowed her body to cool down and get ready for a new round. “I’m still not begging, but I would like to see you.”
For a few long seconds, there was no answer. And then he pulled the blindfold off. And, as she blinked wildly to get accustomed again to light, he freed her wrists and moved away. Perplexed, she sat up, rubbing lightly where her bonds had chaffed a little. Spike was sitting by the foot of the bed, his back to her.
“Sun is up,” he said blankly. “You win.”
Her eyes widening, she glanced at the north-exposed window. A pale frame of light was visible around the drapes. She couldn’t believe the night was already over. She couldn’t believe she had just refused his proposal one more time – one final time. She had not meant to, had planned on giving in before morning, provided that he gave an acceptable answer to the one question she had for him.
“Love, look at me,” she requested softly.
After a couple of seconds, he turned toward her and crawled up the bed, and although he was smiling lightly, his eyes seemed shinier than they had any right to be. She cursed herself for not stopping the game sooner. Now he really thought she didn’t want to marry him.
He lay down on his side just next to her, his fingertips just barely brushing against her leg but causing need to run through her body once again.
“Just tell me why. Why did you propose? You’ve never been one who could be forced into something, so what did my mom tell you exactly that made you decide…”
“She didn’t,” he interrupted her quietly. “She didn’t convince me. When we had that talk, I told her… told her that wasn’t something vamps did. That there was another way for me to make you mine. Really mine. She didn’t convince me that day. What she did was get me thinking. As time passed, I realized the vampire way wasn’t really an option. And I still wanted to call you mine…”
“I am yours. As you are mine. We don’t need to get married for that.”
A deep sigh escaped his lips, and Buffy watched as his eyes fluttered close. Him closing his eyes when they had a serious talk was something she had come to recognize as a sign that he felt vulnerable. It was always odd to see the armor fall away and reveal a little more of the man that hid behind it.
“I know, luv. It’s just… just a symbol. Just to show that I’ve taken human ways for you. I could lay a claim on you, but a vampire claiming a human… that’s no better than saying ‘this is my property’. The human way… it’s more about both of us. It’s about proclaiming to the world that I want to be known for the rest of my life as your husband. That you’re part of my life, and I’m part of yours, and…
His voice broke in a choked whisper, and Buffy decided that she had heard enough.
“Spike?”
“Yes, luv?”
Pale blue eyes looked up at her, so incredibly sad, and Buffy leaned down to kiss each eyelid. When she pulled back, her own eyes were filled with tears. Happy tears.
“Will you marry me?”
Emotions flickered across his face. Incredulity. Surprise. And, above all, pure delight. Pulling her down to him, he kissed her, hard and tender all at once, answering silently, but very clearly, with a yes.