love3

"Willow will read a selection from Rainer Maria Rilke," continued the officiant, nonplussed.

Willow read as she stood in front of the podium. "For one human being to love another human being; this is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us - the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation. Loving at first does not mean merger, surrender and uniting with another person. Love is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in ourselves, to become a world in ourselves for the sake of another person. Love is a great, demanding claim on us, something that chooses us and calls us to vast distances." Giles turned to look to Anya, and saw that she smiled at him with tears in her eyes. He held up his ringed hand, and she flashed her back at him with a smile.

Mrs. Ellenby joined together Spike and Buffy's hands, the rings shining bright on their fingers. "Insomuch as the two of you have agreed to live together in matrimony, have promised your love for each other by these vows and the giving of these rings, I now declare you to be husband and wife," she said.

Spike lifted Buffy's veil, sweeping her into his arms, and kissed her passionately. "Party's in the ballroom, everyone. Have a good time," he called over his shoulder as he walked out with his wife.

"What about the flowers?" Buffy asked with a smile, as he carried her from the chapel. Without a word, he tossed the bouquet over his shoulder. "And the garter?" she asked.

"Private unveiling, love." He slipped his hand up beneath layers of silk and frothing lace, and snapped the band on her thigh. She squeaked, and they both laughed. He whirled her around, surrounding them with a cloud of bridal finery. He danced her down the hall, and into the elevator. They startled the old couple that stood inside.

"So, how long have you been married now?" asked the elderly man. Spike pulled his pocket watch from the fob and said," Two minutes and thirty five seconds." The couple smiled at them.

"First fifty years are the hardest," said the woman, as they exited on their floor. The bride and groom continued their trip, staring deeply into each other's eyes.

"Stop looking at me like that, Slayer," he said huskily.

Her eyes blazed green as she lifted her chin. "Or what?"

He dropped his voice to a growl, his hand tracing the inside of her leg, brushing up her thigh. Her breath caught. "Or, I push the stop button on the elevator, and we consummate our marriage with a quick hard shag against the wall."

The elevator stopped with a chime as Buffy grinned up at her new husband. "Saved by the bell."

He carried her to their suite and unlocked the door. Twirling her across the threshold, he delcately placed her down against the pillows of the massive four-poster bed. She looked up at him, he antique lace of her veil swirling around her head and hiding the golden mist of her hair. "There are one hundred and sixty buttons down the back of this dress," explained Buffy. "A full corset underneath, laced as tight as a drum. And another sixty buttons," she said, "on my boots." She pulled up her leg and braced the knee high white leather boot against his chest. She shot him a challenging glance. "How long do you think it will take you to get it all off?"

"About fifteen seconds, but I'm afraid that would mean we won't be saving that dress for Tinkerbell to wear someday," he said with a grin.

Buffy slid backwards and sat up on her knees. "Do I know you or what?" She lifted her arm, revealing the hidden zipper and pulled the tab down. She pulled the silk dress over her head and let it slide to the floor, before she leaned forward to unzip her boot.

"Don't move, pet," he said softly. He knelt before her on the bed and gently lifted the veil from her head, tossing it to the ground. One by one, he pulled out the ivory pins that secured Buffy's hair into a loose chignon. He ran his fingers through the strands and arranged them to his liking. Reaching down, he pulled her legs out from underneath her and she sprawled backwards. He unzipped her boots and cast them aside.

She lay there in disarray, her hair a wild tumbled mess around her shoulders. Her corset pulled in her waist and plumped up her breasts, and her petticoats swirled all around her. Spike put his arms around her and nuzzled his face between her breasts. He pulled the large satin bows closing the corset loose. "I love this," he said. "There is just something so sexy about unwrapping a woman from all these layers."

She smiled at him and slid off his jacket and shirt, drawing her hands down his bare chest. He looked at her smolderingly as she caressed the rippling muscles of his abdomen. "Want to have some boring married people sex now?" she asked with a glint in her eye.