Part Two [Expanded Storyline C]

"Wait, you've seen him naked how many times, now?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Dawnie... doesn't matter. Patient-therapist relationship, remember?"

"But he's a hottie!" Dawn insisted on the other end. "How many times?" she asked again.

"Like... twenty," Buffy admitted. "And yes, you incredibly nosy person, he is..."

"Big?" Dawn squealed. Buffy could practically see her bouncing with excitement in her seat in NYC. "Is he, is he?"

"How much caffeine has Carlos been letting you have?" the blonde asked suspiciously, stretching and standing from her place on the couch.

"I always wanted to see you two together," Dawn hinted.

"Gee, really? Because I didn't notice, what with you pushing us together at every opportunity," she snarked. "And besides, I've dated..."

"Who, Riley? Blech," Dawn spat. "He was about the most boring guy I've ever met in my life. All 'and on the farm we do this, and sometimes I like to milk my cows'... Plus, he always called me 'kid'."

"So?"

"Buffy, I was twenty-three."

"Good point," the blonde conceded. "Listen, I've got to go. The patient just came in."

Spike glanced at her, then returned to his perusal of the CD collection.

Buffy hung up just as the first strains of 'Just Got Wicked' by Cold began to play through hidden speakers in the room.

"What's with the scary rock?" she asked, an eyebrow quirked.

He shrugged, sitting back and listening to the music.

"Okay..." She stood up, hanging up the phone.

[Three Years Ago ~ NYC ~ Spring]

Buffy awoke and stretched, noticing immediately that the sheets rasped against her skin. It'd been a very long time since she'd slept naked, but she was willing to reason that with the amount of alcohol she'd ingested after the movie the night before, she'd stripped and been to lazy to find her pajamas.

She rolled over and her eyes widened as she came face-to-face with a handsome male face, scant inches from her own. Oh my God, she
thought as she took in the sleeping countenance of Spike. He was obviously nude, the blankets riding low on his back and bunched just above
the crests of his buttocks. "Oh God, oh God..." she mumbled, rolling back onto her back. She wasn't in her own room. "Oh God..."

Images of hot, sweaty bodies writhing together beneath the same sheets that covered her now flashed through her mind. She heard herself cry out, saw him as he ground his head back into the pillows, his eyes tightly shut and his lips parted. She sat up, climbing from the bed and scurrying around the room looking for her underwear. She found her bra dangling by one strap from the corner of his dresser and put it on, then glanced around, spotting her panties on the opposite side of the room.

Once she'd found and donned the rest of her outfit, including her slightly wrinkled dress, she paused to look at Spike once more and left the room, pangs of guilt overwhelming her.

A few minutes later, Spike stirred, reaching for her, but his hand only met empty air and the mattress. He flipped over onto his back, blinking rapidly, and sat up. There was no evidence she'd ever been in his room, and he was almost ready to deem the entire night a gloriously hot dream when his eyes lit upon the indented pillow on the other side of the bed. He fell backwards, his head hitting the pillow and his arms thumping against the mattress on his sides.

Three weeks later, after having ignored his phone calls and flowers, Buffy heard from Dawn that Spike was planning to move to California.

[End Flashback]

Guilt thrummed through her as she remembered that morning, but she quickly shook it off, her eyes focussing once more on the tropical fish tank in front of her. She wrapped her arms about herself as she admired the fish.

The stereo abruptly turned off, starting Buffy out of her reverie. She turned toward the lounge, facing Spike as he exited. "You done getting angry?" she asked.

"Wasn't gettin' angry," he replied. "It calms me."

She shook her head amusedly, then turned back to the fish, sighing quietly.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked.

"Just remembering..." she said, her eyes following an angelfish as it swam through the cool water.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Care to share, luv?" he asked. When she was silent, he continued. "C'mon, tell uncle Spike..."

"I never apologized, did I?" she queried, her gaze leaving the tank and falling on him.

"For..."

"That night. When Dawnie set us up, and we got drunk..." She trailed off. "I'm sorry."

"Why apologize now?" he wondered aloud.

She shrugged. "You know, the guilt thing... bad for your complexion."

His eyes widened with realization, and he smiled wickedly. "You still want me," he purred.

"Not likely," she retorted.

He chuckled. "You can tell me the truth, I promise I won't bite..."

Buffy turned to face him fully, placing her hands on her hips. "Oh yes, please Spike, impale me on your glistening love wand," she said in full monotone. She rolled her eyes and left him sitting in the hallway, his mouth agape.

~*~*~*~*~

"I want to go for a swim," Spike announced, entering the pool room, where Buffy sat in the hot tub. "Help me in?"

"Sure, but it might be interesting to get you back out."

"Pfft," he scoffed. "You'll just 'ave to manhandle me, luv."

Buffy stepped from the hot tub, and Spike took the opportunity to appreciate the way rivulets of water streamed off her body. He shook his head, his gaze returning to the pool.

"Let's get you in there," she said, her arms threading beneath his armpits and lifting him from the chair. She managed to drag him to the edge of the pool, his legs helping minimally, but when her heels hit the slightly raised stonework that ran along the swimming pool's perimeter, she lost her balance.

His arms tightened around her and he held on for dear life as time seemed to slow down. "Bloody 'ell!" he complained, taking a deep breath just before they toppled into the pool.

The two bottle-blondes fell into the water with a large splash, sending waves up over the sides. They sank quickly, and the water stung their eyes. Buffy looked wildly around, but with her grip on Spike, she couldn't move. She opened her mouth, and a flood of the chlorinated fluid entered her lungs, filling them. Spike panicked, wrapping one arm tightly around her. Using his other arm, he propelled them upward with powerful strokes, and they soon reached the surface. He gasped for air, and Buffy choked, coughing violently. Her back heaved and shuddered beneath his forearm as he pulled them toward the side of the pool.

He heaved her upwards, and she landed heavily on the stone floor, still coughing. She turned quite suddenly and vomited, most of the rank substance landing directly on Spike.

"Bloody 'ell!" he exclaimed, ducking beneath the water to rinse himself off.

"What happened?" Gina asked, running in. She noticed Spike as he returned to the surface a few feet away from the edge. The middle-aged housekeeper took one look at Buffy, who was curled in a fetal position on the floor, and ran to the towel cabinet. She returned to the trembling blonde woman, wrapping her in a large towel and helping her to her feet.

"Gina," Spike called as she led Buffy from the room.

"Yes?"

"Get someone to help me out," he requested, floating in a corner of the pool.

"Yes sir," she replied.

~*~*~*~*~

The wheels squeaked as Spike rolled into the lounge, a tray on his lap. His hair was wet from a shower. "Brought you some tea," he said softly, holding a mug out to Buffy. She was curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her. Her hair, now slightly damp, hung about her still-pale face as she reached out with a shaking hand and took the tea from him.

"Thanks," she said raspily, sipping the hot drink.

They sat silently for awhile.

"So," he said suddenly. "I've decided to keep out of the pool until I can get in an' out m'self. You know, to keep from drownin' you."

"Yeah," she replied, staring at her tea. "Sorry I puked on you..."

He smiled tentatively at her. "Nothin' a shower couldn't get out," he replied. "Sorry I nearly killed you."

"But you saved me too..." she half-whispered.

"Not like I could let my therapist drown," he joked gruffly.

"Thank you," she said, sipping her tea again.

"Buffy - " he said suddenly. The undertones in his voice caused her to turn her gaze to him.

She studied him quietly.

"Nothin," he finally said.

She looked back at her tea.

"No, it's somethin," he decided aloud. "I really feel..." He cut off, then rolled closer to the couch, cradling her face with one hand and dropping a nearly chaste kiss on her lips.

He pulled back just as suddenly as he'd kissed her. Her eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth to apologize. She brought her hand up, shushing him with two fingers across his lips. "What was that for?" she asked.

Spike shrugged. "Maybe because I regretted not huntin' you down after that night three years ago," he replied, "an' doin' that."

"Oh," she replied, her eyes once again on the contents of her mug.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike's torso shifted as he tried to make himself comfortable on his bed. He took a deep breath, snuggling into the pillow as he exhaled.

"Mmm..." Buffy mumbled from next to him. "Can't sleep?"

He turned to face her, wrapping his arms about her. "No..." he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her throat. His lips ghosted over the sweet-smelling flesh he encountered there.

"You know, I hear the best cure for insomnia is - " she cut off as his mouth connected with hers, plucking at her lips. As his tongue flicked across her slightly parted lips, the fingers of his left hand trailed down her side, tracing each rib, then darting down into her navel, before reaching their destination.

His palm pressed into the small of her back, bringing her hips closer to his own. His lips left hers, trailing across her cheek to her earlobe as he arched his hips into hers.

Buffy's right hand traced down his spine, her left arm curling around his head and her fingers lacing through his hair. "I want you," she whispered.

"Want you too," he replied. He gazed at her, his blue eyes locking on her hazel ones. Nimble fingers wrapped about his cock, stroking it, and he moaned, his eyes rolling back.

Buffy brought the tip of him in contact with her dewy folds, draping her right leg over his hips. He teased her for a moment before thrusting inside with one slow, smooth motion. His eyes were on hers as he entered her, watching the play of emotions that flitted through them. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them again.

"Perfect," Buffy breathed as he tentatively moved within her. "You fit me... perfectly..."

He groaned harshly in agreement, pressing his forehead to hers as his hips twitched.

He rolled to his back, taking her with him and getting a firm grip on her hips. He then began raising and lowering her slowly. She soon caught the rhythm, and one of his hands ceased its guiding motions, reaching up and fondling a pert breast that hung enticingly before him. His thumb brushed across its hard crest and she gasped, her mouth falling open and her eyelids fluttering shut.

"Spike," she gasped, clutching his shoulders as he surged within her.

His throat worked spasmodically as her inner muscles squeezed him. "Oh God, Buffy..." he groaned.

Her eyes opened, staring near-blindly into his as her hips undulated against hers. "Spike, I'm..." she broke off on a moan.

"I know," he replied. "Let go, luv..."

She tensed, falling forward into his arms as her entire body spasmed, his name on her lips. Two more pumps of his hips and he followed her into orgasm, groaning and fusing his mouth to hers.

"I love you," Buffy gasped softly, nuzzling into his sweat-slick chest. She kissed one of his pecs, then snuggled against him.

"Love you too..." he murmured, his fingers trailing up and down her back.

They both fell into a deep slumber.

The next morning, Spike awoke alone. His sheets were uncomfortable, and when sat up, glancing down, he noticed a discolored area over his groin. "Bloody 'ell," he groaned, falling back and squeezing his eyes shut. "This 'as got to end."

Author's Note: I'm so evil. ::grins wickedly:: For some reason I enjoy torturing Spike with wet dreams. Maybe I should go work for Mutant Enemy or something. I'd fit right in with the whole Spike-torture angle. Don't worry, though. The real thing is coming soon. I promise. Make sure you click that review link on the way out of here...

Send Feedback
Next Part
R to NC-17