Written for Essene's birthday, and fondly dedicated to her.
Suspend your disbelief… Buffy didn’t die at the end of season 5, and
she and Spike have worked their way through friendship and secret
dates. They are now a couple, but so far no one knows about it, at
Buffy’s request. Except…
Disbelief
Buffy was seething as she observed
the two blondes on the dance floor. The worst of it was, it had all
been her idea; Spike had gone along only because she insisted. Well, he
wasn’t hesitating anymore. He even seemed to be having a grand time,
grinning as he whispered something into Anya’s ear, holding her way too
close, and Buffy was certain that his hand at the small of her back was
rubbing small circles. There had been no mention of touching when she
had exposed her plan to him, she was pretty sure of it.
The
plan, actually, was working quite well. Buffy had watched with silent
gleefulness as Xander, sitting across from her at the table, had stared
at his ex-fiancée dancing with the vampire he still could barely stand.
She had given a triumphal smile to Willow, who had been opposed to the
plan all along, and to Dawn, who had only shown hesitant support. Then,
she had made her mistake. She had looked at the dancing couple too. And
now, she understood all too well Xander’s jealousy. Because she felt
the exact same way, even though she knew it was all just an act.
When
it became too much, she stood. Told Dawn and Willow that she wouldn’t
be home until late, if at all, and not to wait for her. Told Xander he
was a fool if he couldn’t see that Anya still loved him. Then she
strode out to the dance floor.
She tapped Spike on the shoulder,
something that Xander should have done according to her plan. Her
vampire – hers, damnit! – let go of Anya and turned, obviously
surprised not to find the brunet he had been expecting. His surprise
increased a hundredfold when she grabbed the back of his head and
pulled him to her mouth. She thrust her tongue past his lips, and for a
second he didn’t react, too shocked, maybe, that she would do such a
thing where anyone could see. It didn’t last, however, and soon enough
he was returning her hungry kiss, pulling her body close to his so that
she could feel him harden against her. For her. No one but her. Her
hold on his hair tightened, and in response he kissed her harder,
battling with her tongue, bruising her lips in the most delicious way,
making her heart beat faster and her breath grow short as he always did.
Too
soon, she had to pull back, and only then did she hear the catcalls and
hooting around them. Briefly, she glanced at the table she had just
left, noticing that her friends and sister were slack jawed. She would
have to explain herself. She didn’t really enjoy the prospect, but she
had pushed back that talk way too long already.
Her hand found Spike’s, and as she looked at him again, she could already see the question rising to his lips.
“Mine,” she said simply and pulled him toward the exit.
Spike
couldn’t believe what was happening. Buffy had kissed him in front of
her friends despite her repeated pleas to keep their relationship a
secret a little longer, and now she was pulling him out of the Bronze.
The only two explanations he could think of were either she had become
jealous of his little show with Anya or she was possessed. Seeing how
they were on the Hellmouth, the second explanation almost seemed the
more credible of the two.
“Pet? It was your plan, remember? No need to be jealous.”
She threw him an annoyed glare.
“I
am not…” she began, and then stopped short. He could have sworn she was
blushing when she looked away, her hand tightening ever so slightly
around his.
“The plan did not say anything about her practically
climbing on you,” she muttered under her breath. “Or about you touching
her.”
She stopped abruptly and shook an angry finger in front of his face. “What was that, anyway? Caressing her back? Why in hell…”
He
interrupted her in the most effective way, with the fiery, demanding
kiss that usually left her weak in the knees, and right on cue when he
pulled back she leaned against him for support.
“You’re sexy when you’re jealous,” he whispered right against her ear before suckling a succulent earlobe into his mouth.
“Only when I’m jealous?” she retorted, pouting, and he suppressed a laugh.
“All the time,” he assured her. “Can we shag now?”
She was about to say yes, he just knew she was, but then she seemed to realize they were on the sidewalk.
“Crypt,” she said sternly.
Never
letting go of his hand, she started running in the direction of the
cemetery, and they beat all their previous records of speed. Clothes
were shed on the way to the lower level, a few buttons lost, but at
last, they were there. He tackled her to the bed, but she rolled them
over, kneeling over him.
“You’re mine,” she said flatly as she
took hold of his erection and rubbed the tip of him against her nether
lips. He hissed at the wet warmth, his hips thrusting up in a desperate
attempt to increase the contact, but with a flat hand on his stomach,
she pushed him back down.
“Mine,” she repeated, and he realized she expected an answer.
“Yours,” he agreed. “Been saying it for months, why didn’t…”
Whatever
he had been about to point out disappeared with the white heat of her
surrounding him. She was always so ready for him; it never ceased to
amaze him. Always so hot. Always so perfect.
She rode him hard,
her nails trailing long lines on his chest that made him gasp as light
pain deepened the rising pleasure. At first, his hands merely fluttered
on her burning flesh, the contrast designed to drive her wild with
need. But soon, he couldn’t resist the call of those perky nipples
straining toward him and begging to be touched. He delighted in her
moan when he arched up and sucked one into his mouth, teasing with his
tongue and the barest hint of teeth. The snap of her hips against him
became almost frantic, foolproof sign that she was close. Their first
time was always fast, a way to take the edge off and allow them to work
their way back to bliss with more tender caresses and…
He howled
in a mix of surprise, pain and pleasure. She had pushed him back down,
leaned on top of him and unexpectedly sank her teeth in the crook of
his neck, hard enough to draw blood. Combined to her internal muscles
fluttering around him, the sensation took him over the edge and he
thrust a last few times, coming with a hoarse cry of her name.
Fighting
the languid torpor that tried to settle in his body, he held his lover
tightly to him, coming close to purr when the tip of her tongue soothed
the prickling marks she had left on his flesh.
“Any way I could make these permanent?” she mumbled sleepily.
He blinked several times, wondering what she was talking about, finally realizing, but not understanding.
“Why would you want that?” he asked, rolling so that they would lie on their sides and he could see her.
“Mine,” she said once more, as if it explained everything. “Want everyone to know.”
Eyebrows arching up in surprise, he couldn’t help the chuckle that passed his lips.
“It’s not funny,” she said, her voice caught between embarrassment and annoyance.
“Oh,
but it is, luv. Yesterday you didn’t want anyone to know about us, and
today you want me branded. It’s bloody hilarious, that’s what it is.”
Embarrassment
apparently prevailed, because she buried her face against his chest,
murmuring an apology he guessed more than heard. Stroking her hair
lightly, he thought of her words, and finally suggested, very quietly:
“A tattoo would be permanent.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, and he traced her lips with a gentle finger.
“You’d do that?” she questioned. “For me?”
A corner of his mouth curled up as he suppressed a sigh. Was she finally getting it?
“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you.”
A slow blink, and she smiled, the softest, gentlest, sweetest smile he had ever seen grace her lips.
“I know. One of the reasons why I love you.”
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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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