He stared at her for long minutes, an unreadable expression on his face. Buffy nervously wrung her hands together, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip.
“I mean you can sleep. . . . can share my tent. We don’t have to . . I can unzip the sleeping bags.” Oh, no. Gah! I’m brook, hear me babble.
A slow grin appeared on his lips and Buffy found herself just staring up at him. His low chuckle sounded in the air and he stepped closer, his words little more than a whisper across her skin. “I’d be honored to use your tent, sweetheart. Promise you won’t take advantage of me and ‘ll even share the sleepin’ bags with you.”
It took her a moment to realize what he’d said and another before she got his gentle teasing, but once she did, Buffy thumped his arm. “Very funny. Maybe I’m the one that should be worried.”
His look turned serious then, and Will leaned down, his mouth at her ear. “Maybe you should be.”
Before she could squawk at him, Will disappeared into his tent, digging around for his duffel bag. Extricating it from underneath one of the sleeping boys, Will shook his head. Camping with a bunch of uptight suburbanites was not something he ever pictured himself doing. The only other time he’d willingly done this, was easily a dozen years and two stints in rehabilitation ago. Roughing it like this was not his idea of a good time.
Emerging from his tent, he saw Buffy staring up at the stars, moonlight glinting off her hair, bathing her features in fairy light. He could almost picture her with delicate iridescent wings, pointy little ears hidden by her dark gold tresses. Okay, maybe roughing it isn’t so bad.
Lines of poetry formed in his head the longer he stared at her and his fingers itched for his guitar. Reluctant to disturb her, Will stayed silent, just drinking in the vision in front of him. Long before he was ready, Buffy shifted, becoming aware of him staring at her. Even in the darkness he could see the blush blooming on her features and he smiled as she shyly ducked her head.
She started to speak, then stopped as her voice squeaked a bit. Clearing her throat, Buffy tried again. “Um. Can you give me a minute while I change?”
“Sure. No rush.” He smiled again, watching her duck easily into the tent. Spike could hear the rustle of clothing being removed, the slide of zippers opening and closing, and his imagination took flight. Even as his hands searched his pockets for pen and paper, his brain was aware of two things, Buffy undressing and the lines of song lyrics appearing magically in his head.
Buffy nervously slid inside the tent, trying and failing to move silently. She didn’t feel entirely comfortable knowing Will was less a couple of feet away and able to hear everything she did.
Every noise she made sounded unnaturally loud, making her even more self-conscious. She nearly groaned when the zipper on her backpack caught, silent curses tripping violently through her head.
It finally gave and Buffy quickly grabbed her comfy sleep wear. Grimacing at it with distaste, Buffy realized cotton flannel just couldn’t compete with silk or satin. A small sigh escaped her and Buffy shook her head. It was either the flannel or nothing and it was really too cold for nothing. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d known something like this would or could happen. And hello? Who says anything is going to happen anyway. Jumping to conclusions, much?
Emitting a deep sigh, Buffy shook her head and quickly changed her clothes. Shivering slightly as she got redressed, she softly called out his name. “I’m done. You can come in now.”
A distracted, “be right there, pet,” was her only response for a few moments and then she heard low humming and an occasional word. Puzzled, Buffy leaned out of the tent to see Will standing almost where she’d left him, his duffel bag on the ground, a pad and pencil in his hands. As she watched, he thumped the rubber end against the pad and a slow grin appeared on his face. He glanced up and his smile got wider.
He asked her, “All done?”
“Yeah. You ready to come to bed?”
“Am now.” He dropped the pad and pencil in the side pocket of his bag and forcibly zipped it up. “Shove over, kitten.”
For some strangely inexplicable reason, Buffy’s nerves increased. Okay, so she knew why – the why was fairly obvious. The why was just shy of two feet away from her, currently with his back to her, removing his boots.
Will had already decided he wasn’t going to bother changing into the sweatpants he’d packed. Leaving his jeans on was a better option. The temptation was far too great. Sweatpants meant easy access and he really didn’t want to take advantage of Buffy. Which surprised him no end.
He was used to having women throw themselves at him, always guaranteed a sure thing. But he didn’t want a sure thing. For the first time in a very long while, Spike found himself genuinely enjoying someone else’s company. The guys in the band didn’t count, because they were family, just like Dru. It was the others – the groupies, the hangers-on and all the rest of the strangers populating his world, that lately seemed to be driving him crazy. Always wanting something and never returning the favor.
Spike liked this girl. Liked her quick wit and intelligence. She was real. And he wasn’t going to blow it by shagging her right away.
So the jeans stayed on.
Buffy moved to the far side of the sleeping bag, studying the lines of Spike’s back, curious about what he’d been doing outside. It looked like he’d been writing and she wondered if it might have been a new song. She didn’t dare think it was about her, but she hoped all the same. Geez, ego much? Like he’s gonna write about you. Ordinary Buffy. . . nope. Doubt that will happen anytime soon.
She shifted around, trying to get comfortable with only one of her pillows. Her attention was off Spike for a few minutes and when she finally looked up, he was watching her, an amused smile lighting up his features. The flashlight was the only illumination and his look made her blush.
“What?”
“Nothin’, pet. Jus’ wonderin’ what you’re doin’, is all.”
She huffed, pushing wisps of hair off her face. “Just trying to get comfy.”
“Ahuh.”
This time she made another adorably scrunched face and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to kiss her. While he hesitated, a huge yawn cracked her features, making his decision easier. “C’mon, kitten, let’s get settled.”
He got into the sleeping bag, stretched out beside her and flipped off the flashlight.
Being in the dark only increased their awareness of each other and Buffy started talking to cover up her nervousness. Seizing on the distraction, Spike eagerly joined her, letting the conversation flow between them. Eventually, though, fatigue caught up with them and they both drifted off to sleep.
Consciousness seeped into him, along with the warmth surrounding him, blanketing him. His nose was cold, but everything else was deliciously warm.
He slowly became aware of a tiny hand nestled inside the front of his jeans and that his own hand was cupped around a delicious bare handful of a gently rounded butt cheek. It was still dark out, although it must have been close to daybreak because the morning birds were beginning to chirp. His hand tightened around the flesh and in response the small hand in his pants slid closer to his erection.
The girl in his arms stirred, her long hair falling over his chest and the scent of her filling his nostrils. She nuzzled the spot where her head rested and he groaned when her lips touched his neck.
Her sleepy voice sounded in his ear and it took him a few seconds to realize what she was saying.
“I’m really not sorry. I wish you would wake up. Which sorta makes me a bad person.” He waited, not daring to move, afraid even to breathe. “I just wanna snuggle up with you. I hope you won’t be mad at me when you do wake up.”
Her hand slid past his straining erection, grabbing onto his hip. She was very nearly lying on top of him, a position he could find no fault with.
“Damn, you smell so good, ” she whispered into his chest and then his breathing did hitch when she kissed his neck. “Really good.”
Spike was done. He couldn’t hold back any longer and there was no way he was misreading her signals.
His voice was low, almost a growl, reverberating deep in his chest, vibrating through her. “Buffy.”
That’s all he said. All he needed to say. Just her name.
His free hand curled up her side, sneaking beneath soft cotton flannel, his fingers brushing against her breast. Urging her fully atop him with his other hand, Spike lowered his chin and captured her squeaked out surprise with his lips.
Her legs fell open, straddling his narrow hips and Spike arched, thrusting his erection against her. His hands swept up and down her bare back, teasing and soothing simultaneously. Buffy mewled into his mouth and Spike thrust up harder against her. Needing to breathe, he broke off the kiss, mumbling into her gasping mouth. “Bloody hell, kitten, want you so much.”
“You do?” She wiggled, adjusting her hips to hold him close. “Really?”
“Since the moment I laid eyes on you.” His hand pulled reluctantly away from her butt, and moved up, gathering her long hair into a loose ponytail. “Yeah, since the very first.”
“You’re not just saying that because I’m all over you?” She was half teasing and Spike was
aware enough to pick up on it.
“Was afraid you wouldn’t want me, sweets. ‘M not exactly. . . ‘m a bad, rude man.”
Her breathy giggle went right through him, setting his nerves alight. “So, you’re mad, bad and dangerous to know?”
He laughed, catching onto her obscure reference. “Jus’ call me Byron.”
“So when I call out another name you won’t get all pissy with me?” Buffy nipped playfully at his chin, waiting for his response.
A low, playfully indignant response huffed from him. “Now, now, kitten, ‘m too memorable to mistake.”
“Oh, you got that right.” She whispered it so softly against his neck that Spike wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly, so he chose to ignore her, instead focusing on their positions.
“Are you sure about this?” He held his breath, hoping she wasn’t about to pull the rug out from beneath him.
“I’m sure. The feeling is totally mutual.” To emphasize her point, Buffy flexed her hips, squeezing him tightly, one small hand sliding under his shirt and the other into his hair. “And really, if you don’t shut up and kiss me, I might think you weren’t.”
With a twist of his hips, Spike rolled them over, nestling himself between her splayed thighs. He shifted, sliding his right hand beneath her head, lifting her to meet his lips. “Oh, I’m very sure I want you.”
Buffy squealed, her heartbeat racing as he moved. He’d felt big when she was laying astride him, but now, with him nestled even more intimately against her, she got a glimpse of his true proportions. He’s huge! How the hell is that. . . oh damn, I can’t wait to feel him!
His left hand slithered under her shirt, fingers warm around the curve of her breast, his thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. Her own hands wormed their way between his skin and denim, sliding under his waistband to rake her nails over his hipbones.
Spike’s lips burned over hers, tongue questing inside her mouth. She was burning him up, his skin and nerves on fire everywhere they touched. Every bit of her was real, nothing about her was fake, and he was drowning in the taste and scent of her. “Hell, kitten, need you. Need to feel you.”
He broke away from her mouth, nipping and pulling her lower lip as he did so. Dipping his head, Spike laid a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her lips down to her collarbone, using his tongue to taste her. His hands burrowed under the soft cotton of her nightshirt, tweaking her nipples. Buffy arched into his touch, trying hard to keep quiet; her small hand cupped his cheek and she softly urged him, “Please, Spike, touch me.”
Unable to keep herself from touching him, Buffy wrapped her legs around his narrow hips, holding him in place against her. Spike drew back, his eyes steady on hers, his thumbs still swirling over her nipples. “Wanna taste you, luv.”
Without waiting for her permission or denial, Spike dipped his head, latching onto a nipple. Teeth grazed the tender flesh of her aureole, making Buffy’s head spin and husky gasps sound from her throat. She was babbling soft, incoherent words into the early morning air. Every single breathy moan speared through Spike, notching his need for her. He was losing his head, reeling from the taste and feel of her, suddenly wanting to crawl inside her skin, never letting go.
Buffy’s hands weren’t still. No part of her was. Her hands roved over his body, desperate to find purchase, seeking to affect him as much as he was affecting her. Her pulse was thumping through her veins, radiating out from his touch. “Oh, God, Spike. Please!”
He couldn’t control his reaction, couldn’t slow down. Spike knew he was drowning, lost in the feel of her. Buffy’s breasts fit perfectly in his hands, almost as if she’d been special ordered for him. Laying a trail of soft kisses from one breast to the other, Spike growled against her skin when she dragged her nails over the curve of his hip, clamping her fingers on his butt. She held him in the cradle of her thighs, wanting, needing friction.
His jeans were impossibly tight, his erection straining, pulsing with need for the wanton vixen writhing in his arms. She gasped out his name and Spike lifted his head, watching her. “Buffy, Buffy, what are you doin’ to me?”
Her head cleared a bit and she smiled. “Me?”
“Yeah, you, woman. Haven’t felt like this in a good long while. What the hell are you doin’ to me?”
“Dunno. Just. . . God, Spike, please don’t stop.” She knew she was begging, but she couldn’t help herself. Buffy hadn’t felt like this ever, like her skin was going to erupt into flame, like her heart was going to beat itself right out of her chest. “Please!”
“Kitten, are you sure? Wanna be skin to skin with you. Wanna feel every inch of you . . . are you sure?” He needed to know she was there with him, aching with the same need.
“Yes, Spike, I’m sure.” Buffy slid her hands around, opening the top button of his jeans. She leaned up, nipping his chest playfully, a slightly breathy giggle erupting from her at his yelp.
“Oh, kitten, two can play that game.” Spike dropped down, trapping her hands between them, attacking her face and neck with more kisses. The giggles melted into sighs and moans, and Spike couldn’t hide his reaction. Buffy’s nimble little fingers had managed to undo all his buttons and her hand was stroking up and down his cock, her thumb swirling over the belled head as she mewled into his ear.
His hand cupped her butt, dipping beneath her sleep pants. Pulling back a bit, breaking off his kisses, Spike stared down at the nymph in his arms. With a deft flick of his hand, he slid two fingers inside her, watching her reaction. She didn’t disappoint.
Buffy gasped at the invasion, arching her hips in invitation. “Oh. . . oh. . . . Spike, please!”
She was staring at him, her eyes wide and sparkling with need. He hated doing this, but he certainly hadn’t planned on this at all. “Buffy, luv, I’ve got nothing with me.”
His fingers were thrusting in and out, his thumb swirling around her clit and Buffy couldn’t think with the sensory overload. “What?”
“Don’t have a condom, sweets.” His voice was low and ragged, tinged with regret, yet his fingers never slowed movement.
“Don’t care. Don’t . . . “ Buffy grabbed his cock, pulling him gently toward her. “I’m covered.”
She wiggled out of her sleep pants, arching her hips toward him. “Please. . . . please.”
It was the certainty and the need in her voice that finally pushed him over the edge. Spike leaned down, his mouth seeking hers, fingers spreading her open for him. “Want you so fuckin’ much, kitten. You ready?”
“Yes, damn it!”
Angling his hips, Spike thrust into her, her warm pussy enveloping him, closing around him. “Oh. Oh!”
She was tight, her walls impossibly, deliciously close around him. His jaw clenched as he fought back the instinct to pound hard into her. He’d never felt like this, wanting to pour his essence inside of her, marking his territory. Buffy locked her ankles around his hips, holding him close, her hips lifting to meet his.
He filled her so completely, Buffy could feel him all the way to her womb, every slide and thrust of his flesh against hers. With each inward drive, Spike rolled his hips, hitting a spot inside her that had her gasping and crying. Her brain shut down, coherent thought no longer possible. Senses overloaded with the feel of him surrounding her, Buffy let go, surrendering to him.
He’d never thought this was possible and then he ceased thinking, letting his body control his consciousness.
Kisses, biting little nips, rasp of roughened fingertips over baby soft, fragrant skin, nipples brushing against hard muscles. Skin sliding over skin, warm, wet pussy grasping around his impossibly hard cock. Spike was drowning. . . .
Her breathing hitched, a soft keening moan of his name escaping from her, her pussy tightening and every muscle beginning to shake, Spike knew she was close. His mouth hovered over hers, intent on capturing her cries of pleasure. “Come for me, kitten. . . now. . come for me.”
Buffy felt the change, heard his voice begging her and gave in. His name sprang full throated from her mouth and he was there with her, growling his pleasure into her skin as she convulsed, wrapping her arms and legs around him, needing to feel him close.
Spike lunged again and fell over the edge with her.
It wasn’t too much later, after both of them had fallen asleep, when the sounds of very early risers began tickling at the edges of Spike’s awareness. Generally speaking, these weren’t his normal sleep patterns, but since he’d started living with Drusilla and her brood, his schedule had undergone radical changes. Because of Dru’s inability to take care of the children, that responsibility had fallen on his shoulders, and the series of nannies he’d been going through. So now, instead of the heading off to bed in the wee hours of the morning, he was getting up before eight, seeing to things like school lunches and runny noses. Part of him was in shock, still, after almost a year of this and part of him realized just how much he was missing by not having a family of his own.
Spike listened with half an ear to the stirring of his fellow campers, especially the still quiet tent right next to them, but the majority of his attention was focused on the woman in his arms.
Muted daylight was filtering through the thin nylon tent walls, bathing her in a strange blue light. She was so honest, so real. He couldn’t find anything about her he didn’t like, even the almost shy way she’d seduced him. His hand brushed back a stray lock of her hair and a smile crossed his features. He’d never liked or enjoyed watching a woman sleep, not even his last girlfriend. They’d mutually dumped each other, though Harmony liked telling the world she dumped him. The real truth was he couldn’t stand her. She’d been not much more than a pleasant bed warmer, at least until she’d started making noises about commitment and what-not. The second she’d started in with that, Spike knew it was time to let go. He couldn’t see himself with Harmony for another year, much less the rest of his life.
However. . . . this sprite in his arms might be different.
Buffy stirred, coming awake slowly as she felt someone’s eyes on her. She nestled into the strong arms around her, bumping her nose into the hard chest next to her. As she fought waking, her actions last night and earlier flooded through her and she groaned, blushing at her own boldness. Not once in her life had she ever been so aggressive with a lover. Not like that, anyway. She’d practically attacked the man next to her, waking him out of a sound sleep and wantonly seducing him. He must think I’m such a ho-bag. Damn, Buffy! What were you thinking?
His voice sounded in her ear and Buffy blushed furiously. “Mornin’, kitten.”
She dared to peak up at him, her embarrassment worsening at her first glimpse of his expression. Buffy was barely able to squeak out her own greeting.
Spike got an inkling of how she was feeling when Buffy buried her face against his arm. “Hey, don’t be shy, pet.”
He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at her, reveling in her nearness. “Kinda like waking up next to you, princess.”
“Really?” She was surprised by his reaction, the smile playing about his lips and the sexy, tousled and debauched appearance he was sporting. “You aren’t mad at me for last night?”
His expression, all aghast and truly surprised, clued her in that she might be misreading his amusement. “You’ve got to be bloody joking, pet. I’d like nothing more than to keep you here all day and prove how happy I am about what you did.” His grin turned lascivious. “What we did, but I can’t. Kiddies are all stirring and I can hear everyone waking up. Thought you might appreciate the extra time to make yourself presentable.”
Sexy and considerate. Huh. Go figure. “Um. Yeah. I . . . thanks. I do. Appreciate it.”
Buffy scrambled to pull up her discarded sleep pants. Her hand accidentally brushed against his erection and she froze. “I’m sorry.”
Spike stilled her frantic movement by trapping her hand against him. “Not gonna hide from anyone but the kiddies, sweetheart. ‘M not ashamed or embarrassed. Jus’ thought you’d wanna keep your boy in the dark about us, at least for a bit.”
He squeezed her hand, reluctantly letting her go after a moment. With a quick kiss on her lips, Spike slid from the sleeping bag.
“A bit?” Her eyes followed his every movement, drinking in the play of his well defined muscles.
“Yeah. Jus’ for a bit, til he gets used to another man hangin’ about his mum all the time.”
With that rather cryptic statement, Spike ducked out of the tent, leaving Buffy to herself.
Breakfast was a hilariously funny event, with the entire troop of boys attempting to cook for themselves and their parents. Spike sat on the sidelines, his eyes roving between Buffy’s laughing face and the antics of the two little boys he was most concerned with. Wesley was fine, behaving himself and competently handling the cooking, as well as any eight year old could. Xander, on the other hand, was going to need a complete hose-down when they were done. Pancake batter was splattered all over him, from the tips of his brown hair down to the toes of his worn sneakers. Buffy’s son was an absolute mess. And he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Although his poor mother was trying so hard not to laugh at him, it was impossible. The boy was so excited and thrilled, he was having trouble controlling himself. She glowed with happiness, her laughter affecting everyone around her. Spike was trying so hard to stay aloof, give her a bit of space this morning, letting them both digest what had happened under the cover of darkness.
Everything they’d done was imprinted in his brain, every gasping breath, every hissed sigh. Spike got to his feet, heading straight for the tent. Passing close by Buffy, he brushed a hand across her shoulder, feeling her skin leap to his touch. A grin split his features and Spike reached for his pen and paper. He had more than a few lyrics bouncing around in his head and pretty soon he was going to have to retrieve his guitar from the DeSoto.
She tried avoiding his eyes, even as he watched her. Buffy was trying to keep her cool, and thankfully, Xander was proving a wonderful distraction. Her poor boy was going to need a shower, and soon. Pancake batter and syrup were streaked down his face, matting his hair and covering him from stem to stern. She didn’t want to laugh too loud, knowing he’d get upset and insulted, but she couldn’t control herself. He was just too adorably cute.
Buffy felt Spike’s attention shift again and she relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. That is, until he walked past her and brushed a warm hand across her shoulder. Her eyes swung to watch him duck into the tent. He was only inside for a few moments, just long enough to grab pencil and paper. He went off a bit, moving his chair away from the chaos, and immediately began writing. She watched him for a few minutes, wondering what exactly he was writing. Well, Buffy, he’s a writer. He obviously gets inspired all the time.
Xander called out to her and Buffy stared at the walking mess that was her son and cringed. Dirt and grease had been added to the mix and the need for some sort of shower was imperative. Figuring it would be easier to convince Xander to shower if he could head off with a friend, and knowing how the scouts stressed the buddy system, Buffy sent Wesley over to ask his uncle’s permission.
The little boy was back in moments, a grin wreathing his features. “He said any time you wanted to take me was okay, and that I should mind you, just like I mind Mum.”
With a look over the boys’ heads, Buffy caught Spike’s eyes on her once again. He grinned, which was really more of a leer, tucking his tongue against his teeth and Buffy’s answering blush made him laugh outright.
Buffy didn’t see him again until lunchtime, when the troop was once again all in the same spot. She’d herded the boys from the shower directly to their first activity, which was leather-working. The boys had to make small pouches and Buffy found herself helping. She purposefully pushed aside thoughts of Spike, focusing on the moment, instead of getting caught up in what-ifs.
Walking down that path was not something she was ready for. Yes, they’d had sex – pretty damn good sex – but that wasn’t always the best basis for a relationship. And she wasn’t even sure he was in the market for a relationship. His somewhat cryptic last remark aside, Buffy knew they hadn’t talked at all about what happened between them. Buffy almost didn’t want to have a discussion about what had happened. She didn’t want to.
She knew it was crazy and stupid, but if this weekend was all they were going to have, then she didn’t want it tainted with heavy conversations that would ultimately end badly. No, she’d much rather spend this weekend basking in the idea that the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on wanted her.
It was a much better fantasy.
When she and the boys got back to the camp, Spike was nowhere to be seen. Buffy realized she’d been breathless, anticipating her first glimpse of him since earlier, and her expression fell considerably. Her reaction was so noticeable, even the two little boys picked up on it. Wesley merely watched while Xander tugged on her hand. “Mom? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sweetie. I was just hoping lunch would be ready. I’m really hungry.”
Xander scrunched up his face. “Mom, you know we’re supposed to be doing all the cooking and stuff. That’s what Mr. Finn said anyway.”
Plastering on a fake smile, Buffy clapped her hands together. “Silly me. I forgot all about that.”
Thankfully, Scoutmaster Finn’s wife was a bit more practical than her husband, and lunch consisted of nothing more complicated than grilled cheese and chips. The boys enthusiastically set to work and Buffy was munching on her only slightly charred sandwich when Spike strode into camp, a guitar case in one hand.
A smile and blush instantly covered her face when he made a bee-line for her, his eyes hidden by very dark sunglasses, but she could see the smile playing about his lips and Buffy couldn’t help herself. She blushed bright red and watched him settle into the chair next to her.
Under his breath, Spike whispered, “Missed you, kitten.”
Without shifting to look at him, Buffy whispered back, “Really? I missed you, too.”
“Uncle Will, do you want a sandwich?” Wesley stood in front of him, a rare grin on his features.
“Sure thing, squirt.” Watching his nephew head over to the makeshift grill, Spike spoke again. “What’s on the agenda for this afternoon?”
“Riley said something about archery and then swimming. Or that could be the other way around. I’m not sure.”
At that he looked at her, noting despite the sparkles in her eyes, she appeared tired. “Tell you what, kitten. Lemme tag after the boys an’ you get some kip.”
“Kip?” Buffy looked at him, her eyes staring into his blue orbs.
“Yeah, rest, nap, get some sleep.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”
“I am kind of tired.” Before she could censor her mouth, she blurted out, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Spike’s eyes twinkled and his leer sent tingles throughout her body. “‘S why you should nap. I plan on not sleeping again tonight.”
And on that note, he and the boys were gone, leaving Buffy alone with her thoughts.
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