Written for LadyAnne, and fondly dedicated to her.
This is a continuation to Disbelief.
His & Hers
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
The Slayer’s smile did not waver in the slightest, and Spike began to
regret his too easily granted promise. He made a mental note not to
make promises in the bliss of the after-glow anymore.
“You said anything I wanted,” she pointed out a little too cheerfully.
Of course, Spike thought glumly, she would choose this particular
instance to remember his words exactly. He wasn’t going to let it drop
so quickly however. He simply couldn’t.
“Luv, you…”
“Anything.”
The word was calm, but with the barest hint of disappointment to it.
Despite the utter ridiculousness of her choice, despite already calling
himself a fool for not protesting more , he leaned in to brush his lips
against hers.
“Anything,” he confirmed in a murmur and trailed his fingers along her
side, caressing flesh that was still burning from their earlier
lovemaking. She responded instantly, her body moving closer to his on
the bed until they were chest to chest, lips joining softly, hands
proving once more if needed how well they knew each other.
His hand rubbed the curve of her ass, the flesh softer than silk, and
glided down to her thigh. The slightest pressure and she raised her leg
and hooked it behind him, opening herself to him. Her body slid up,
enough to allow him a fleeting taste of her breast, then she slithered
down again, taking him in with a satisfied sigh. Slow like calm waves
rocking a boat. Tender like a kitten purring contentedly. And quiet.
Quiet but not silent, because silent was something Spike couldn’t do.
His words of love were no louder than her heartbeat, so that no one but
his lover could hear them. He had learned his lesson fast, the first
morning – or rather, afternoon – he had awoken in his Slayer’s bed. He
had put up a good front when they had walked down the stairs hand in
hand toward the voices laughing in the living room. He had known all
too well that Buffy was still shy about their relationship, and that
Dawn and the Scoobies were still half in shock despite the few days
that had passed since the couple’s revelation. In truth, he had been as
jittery as she had been, wondering how they would react, all too aware
that their acceptance mattered a lot to Buffy. The reception had been
surprisingly warm, and for the first time ever he had felt like he was
truly a part of the gang. Then, Dawn had commented on the noise level…
So, quiet words. Whispers against the line of her jaw that turned into
tiny licks down the column of her throat, where he could feel her blood
pulsing, faster now, like their hips were moving faster, stronger, like
her hands holding him to her. He was losing himself in her, body and
mind. He didn’t want to ever let go of her. He hoped she wouldn’t ever
let go of him either.
The sun was taking its time to set, or so it seemed to Buffy. It might
have been her impatience giving her this impression. Ever since they
had first talked about it a couple of weeks back, she had grown more
attracted to the idea, and now it was going to happen. The appointment
was set; and within a couple of hours, Spike would wear a tattoo
branding him as hers.
Had he been human, she would probably never have asked for it. But he
wasn’t human. Vampire, he knew about marking a lover, about being
marked. He had given her two small marks on the virgin side of her
throat, and the pride in his eyes when he looked at them or touched
them never failed to send delighted shivers down her spine. She
couldn’t return the favor, only could try to ignore the age-old marks
his sire had left on him. But now, he had agreed, understanding a need
she hadn’t known how to voice. It wasn’t simply a sign, telling the
rest of the world that his heart was hers, that she wanted. It was a
symbol, something to remind her of his love, of what he would do for
her, allowing himself to be marked when they both knew the mark would
last much longer than Buffy would live.
She was beginning to regret having told him to come to her house after
sunset so that they could go to the tattoo parlor together. She should
have suggested going to him instead; they could have spent some time
together… and ruined the rest of her surprise. No, it was better like
this. It would be even better though when they finally talked about him
moving in with her. Willow had moved in with them after Tara and her
had broken up, but things were getting better between the witches and
Buffy anticipated that Willow would be moving out pretty soon. She’d
make the master bedroom hers then. Or rather, hers and Spike’s. If he
agreed. Which she had absolutely no doubt that he would.
At last, he was there, and after the necessary kissing and a few words
shared with Dawn, she practically pulled him out of the house and
toward the tattoo place.
“I don’t suppose you changed your mind, did you?” Spike asked hopefully as his arm settled around her waist.
“Nope. No changing of the mind. I even talked to the girl about it and she drew a design just like I wanted it.”
The vampire sighed heavily, and Buffy looked at him, suddenly worried.
If he was really upset with her choice of design, she wasn’t going to
insist and risk having him be annoyed with her.
“I’m not annoyed,” he reassured her when she voiced her concern. “It’s
just… come on, luv. You’ve got to admit it’s kinda corny.”
She huffed at that. “It’s not corny, it’s romantic.”
Teasing each other back and forth about their notions of what was
romantic, they made their way through downtown Sunnydale. Buffy stopped
her lover just as he was about to open the door to the shop, catching
his hand and squeezing lightly.
“If you’d rather have another design,” she began, and he interrupted her with a slight shake of his head.
“I said you could choose, and you did. I’m OK with it, luv. Really.”
A smile, a lingering kiss, and they were finally walking in. After a
few words with the store’s owner, Spike removed his duster and t-shirt
and took his place on the high bench. Buffy felt a slight blush creep
in her cheeks as Spike caught her looking at his exposed flesh
dreamily. She was glad she had chosen his shoulder for the design; it
would have been a pity to alter in any way the smooth expanse of his
chest.
Settling on the side where she would be able to see the design appear
on her love’s skin, Buffy resumed her conversation from the afternoon
with the tattoo artist. They chatted about random things while Spike
mostly listened, adding only a few comments every now and then,
apparently too distracted by the needle punching neat lines on his arm
to pay much attention to the discussion. All the while, Buffy couldn’t
help thinking with anticipated delight about the little surprise she
had in store for him. Judging by the small smile on his lips and
dancing lust in his eyes, he noticed her excitement and understood he
was in for a treat.
Time seemed to fly, and at last, the artist pulled away. Buffy
approached her lover, resisting the urge to touch the heart drawn onto
his flesh, or her name on the stake that pierced it. Yeah, maybe it was
a little corny, she admitted to herself with an inward smile. But at
the same time, it was so fitting that she had no regrets.
“Did it hurt?” she asked with a light stroke to his cheek.
He gave her a puzzled look. “Hurt? Tickle’s more like it.”
Big Bad attitude, check. That didn’t mean she wasn’t hurting for him.
She winced when Spike put on his t-shirt as the sleeve picked up a
little blood, and helped him roll it up. He kept the duster on his arm,
and there was a small smile on his lips as he looked at the design.
“That’s so cute,” the artist commented as she walked them to the door.
“I don’t get to do matching sets very often, and they’re always my
favorites.”
Spike’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t say a word until they were outside and alone.
“Matching set?” he asked, an eyebrow arched up.
Buffy nodded, suddenly and unexplainably a little shy. “I thought it
would be nice,” she murmured as he drew her close and nuzzled her neck.
“So while I was there this afternoon, I had her do it.”
Questing fingers danced on her body, caresses as light as air.
“So, where’s yours? Shoulder too?”
She pulled back a little, grinning at the delighted note in his voice.
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
Laughing, she started running in the general direction of his crypt,
all of her senses aware of the vampire giving chase. Her vampire. Like
she was his Slayer.
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The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.
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