Please note, this is my attempt at a little 'intimacy'.
Hope you enjoy, would love to hear from you. Not many more to go
Think it's time to check out the Bunny Folder.
Buffy paced back and forth in her room, the small circuit not doing anything to alleviate her anxiety. It was time to have the talk. It was THE talk – the one with her mother. The one she’d been avoiding for the past couple of days.
After Angel’s little revelation about what the claim could and could not (to the best of his knowledge) do and his subsequent call reminding them about the lack of information regarding Slayer/Vampire claims, Buffy’s anxiety levels had ratcheted up to new levels.
She and Spike had become inseparable, but so far – in part due to their promise to Mom – the action hadn’t moved beyond heated grope-age. But the situation was rapidly becoming intolerable.
Buffy had tried to talk to her Mom the previous night, but the words she needed to say had stuck in her throat. She needed backup; this was gonna have to be a two-man tag-team effort. Spike had thankfully promised he’d take part. Her mother was bound to insist on knowing just how much control the claim had on her daughter, and if she had free will to deny her amorous vampire.
There was no way Mom was ready to acknowledge that Spike wasn’t the only one ready to strip naked at the drop of a hat and indulge in hot monkey sex.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of the object of her desire.
“Oi, Buffy. You’re gonna wear a track in the floor with all the back and forth.” He looked at her with those soft blue eyes. “Are we doin’ this or not? Yer mum’s already waiting in the living room.”
Gathering her resolve, she replied, “Then it’s time to face the inquisition.”
Linking arms, they headed down the stairs.
“I was wondering if you two had changed your minds,” Joyce laughed uneasily as the couple came into view. “I think I’m as nervous as I was the first time Buffy and I had the talk.”
Spike rubbed the back of his neck; a sure sign of his own nerves. It might have been 2001, the beginning of a new century, but Buffy’s soon-to-be-lover had his social mores formed in the Victorian era, when such things were never discussed in polite company – much less directly with his intended’s mother.
“You know, this is going to go nowhere fast if one of us doesn’t take the initiative,” Joyce offered, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “So I guess, being the only adult here, it’s up to me.”
Spike couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped. “Not to nit-pick, but I’ve got about a hundred years on you, Joyce.”
“I was referring to maturity, not chronological age, William,” Joyce shot back, laughter in her voice. And just like that, the tension in the room lessened considerably. “Okay, back on topic, if you please. I remember your main concern, Buffy, was that your feelings weren’t your own – that you wouldn’t act on your attraction to Spike without the claim in place, right?”
Buffy nodded warily. Her mom could open softly, but then BANG, the hammer would come down.
“So,” Joyce asked, “what did Angel have to say about the power of claims?”
“The git – erm, Angel – said that, to his knowledge, the claim wasn’t responsible for manufacturin’ feelings,” Spike said, with no hint of the real rancor he was capable of when Angel was part of the conversation. “It does, however, certainly enhance whatever feelings were already there.”
“I see,” Joyce nodded slowly, looking back and forth between her daughter and the vampire. “So, I was right. You two have been drifting closer to each other for a number of years now; ever since you stopped actively trying to kill each other.”
“Well, it’s not like Spike is hard to look at.” Buffy smiled, running her fingers through his hair. Spike rolled his eyes as she managed to free several tufts of hair from their gelled prison.
“And you oughta know better than anyone that your daughter is a helluva woman, Joyce,” Spike offered, softness infusing his countenance as he looked into Buffy’s eyes.
“An awfully young woman, need I remind you?”
“That’s a given, Joyce,” Spike readily agreed. “However, you can rest assured that I will do my best to keep her safe – and that includes from me, if necessary. I think, no, I’m pretty sure that I love her.”
Buffy’s eyes opened wide at his declaration, her hand coming to her mouth in shock.
“I’m sorry, love,” Spike said, taking her small hands in his larger ones. “I should’ve addressed those words to you, the first time I said ‘em. But I’ll say them again – over and over, if you let me.” The words weren’t hesitant the second time, they were a declaration. “I love you, Buffy Summers.”
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Buffy stammered, her cheeks pinking in a soft blush. “I know I have feelings for you, too. It’s still rather early to call it love,” she said, softly. “Please don’t be mad.”
“Oh, pet,” he sighed, enfolding her into a hug. “Take all the time you need to sort your feelings. Just ‘cause I’m sure of mine, doesn’t mean you have to force things.”
Joyce smiled. “Sounds like you two will treat each other’s hearts carefully. Believe me, I’m grateful for that…” Buffy could tell she was gearing up for that dreaded hammer. “However, issues of the heart and issues of the body are two different things.”
“Mother!” Buffy practically shrieked.
“Buffy!!” Joyce shot back. “I was young once, too, you know. And I’ve already seen the two of you all over each other. It’s no large leap to posit that you’ll be sexually active as soon as you get the chance.”
If possible, Spike’s complexion looked several shades paler than normal.
“You’re a healthy twenty year old woman.” her mother bravely continued.
Spike was sinking ever deeper into the couch. And Joyce looked as if she were enjoying herself just a little too much. “And Spike, well, I’m sure you’re more than ready to…”
Buffy called her on it before things could go any further. “Fine, Mother,” she said, a little steel in her voice. “We all know where we stand. Spike and I are healthy little horndogs, and we can’t wait to push you out of the house so we can make with the whoopee! Three’s a crowd, after all.”
“Oh, my,” Joyce simpered, standing up with her hand against her forehead. “I do believe I feel an attack of the vapors coming on.”
“Now you’re being downright cruel, Mom!” Buffy laughed at her mother’s antics. “Really, though, don’t you have to be at the gallery?”
“I do, indeed, my darling horndog,” Joyce laughed. “All I ask is that you leave the walls standing and don’t frighten any of the neighbors. I have a reputation to maintain, after all.”
Spike’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he said, “We’ll be quiet as little church mice.”
Before she left, Joyce looked over her shoulder and asked, “I don’t suppose that vampires carry diseases of any sort, or have to worry about birth control, do they?”
BANG BANG Maxwell’s silver hammer came down on their heads as she scooted outside and closed the door behind her.
No sooner had the door latched, Buffy turned sparkling green eyes on her intended partner. “The cat’s away,” she purred, putting an exaggerated sway into her hips. “Time for the little silent church mice to play.”
“And just what’s on offer for this poor, starving little church mouse?” Little flashes of amber lit his baby blues as he stood slowly.
“A little piece of cheese, perhaps,” she teased, unhooking her bra as she backed away, heading for the stairs.
“And when the small piece of cheese is all gobbled up, and the little mouse is still hungry?”
Buffy laughed, enjoying the freedom of being alone with the vamp – man – she… definitely had feelings for. “Why, I suppose there’s always another bit of cheese,” she offered, pulling her bra out from under her shirt and tossing it behind her.
“And when this bored little mouse tires of cheese?” Spike practically growled in anticipation of what was to come.
“Why, then, I suppose I could offer him something else – perhaps fruit?” she asked, as she dropped her shoes, one at a time, as she climbed the stairs towards her room.
“Cheese and fruit are hardly enough to sustain the poor little mouse,” Spike continued their game, prowling towards the stairs. “Do you have anything more substantial for him to nibble?”
A pair of pink satin panties that she’d shimmied out from under her skirt hit him on the head, as she squealed and ran into her room, Spike hot on her heels in pursuit.
With a pounce, Spike landed on the bed, Buffy beneath him. “Think the poor little mouse is all tuckered out now,” he said, gently stroking her face. “But the big, bad vampire is raring to go.”
“Not with all his clothes on,” Buffy retorted, raising a well-sculpted brow.
Spike managed to shuck his boots, jeans and shirt in record time, and resume his place. “Better, love?”
“Way better,” she agreed, staring at his rampant erection as it bobbed towards her. “Beats the little mouse all to pieces,” she admitted as she reached out and gently tugged on his hardened flesh.
Spike hissed as her hand made contact and pushed himself into her warm embrace.
“Whoa there, fella,” Buffy laughed. “We’ve got hours to play before Mom comes home. After all the buildup, I wanna enjoy this.”
“My sentiments, exactly, Sl – Buffy,” he corrected himself quickly. “My Buffy. My very own delicious Valkyrie, come down from Valhalla for me to worship.”
“Mmmm,” was all Buffy could manage, as he stroked her body down to the tips of her toes and back up again; kneading her aching breasts and thumbing her tight nipples before suckling first one, then the other into his cool mouth.
“Oh god!” Buffy’s moan grew louder as Spike lavished her body with butterfly kisses. His lips blazed a path of heat from sternum to navel; then, slowly, steadily, headed lower.
“Gonna see to you right, Buffy,” he murmured as he placed a kiss to her neatly trimmed mons. “Such a beautiful sight, a treasure to behold,” he added, as he softly spread her labia to admire her glistening core.
Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to close her legs, but he gently used his hands to spread them further apart.
“No need to be shy, kitten,” Spike said, followed by a flat-tongued lick from perineum to clitoris that had Buffy arching up off the mattress with a deep, guttural moan. “Let me give you the veneration you deserve.” With that, he set to his task with great fervor – altering the shape of his tongue and lips to stroke, suck and enter her with enthusiasm bordering on the religious.
She felt Spike’s eyes bore into her as her first orgasm exploded through her body and she cried out her satisfaction.
“Looks like this little church mouse has found her voice at last,” he chuckled fondly, slowly bringing her down from the brink of ecstasy. “What do you say to having a go at another chorus?”
“I’d say it’s a good thing Mom left… ‘cause if that’s me being quiet, she’s gonna need a truckload of earplugs to survive us in the future.” She shifted slightly, gazing into his dazzling blue eyes and noticing the moisture on his chin and lips. “C’mere,” she murmured, guiding his lips to hers for a deep, heartfelt kiss; her taste on his lips a somewhat heady concoction.
“Dealer’s choice,” she offered. “My turn to make with the happy? Or do we finally get to make love?”
“Such a multitude of riches, my Buffy,” he murmured. “Let’s start with one, move onto the other, and do it over and over again?” His cock apparently agreed with him, as it wedged itself into the apex of her thighs, hard and insistent. “Open up for your Spike, won’t you?”
She reached for him, rubbing the head of his cock against her dewy lips, before guiding him inside. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every inch he conquered.
“You’re going to be the death of me, pet – one way or the other,” he sighed as he nestled in as far as he could go. “What a bloody brilliant way to go.”
The next five hours were filled with the thorough exploration of each other’s bodies, taking note of each hot-spot for future reference. When they separated for the final time, both lay replete against each other – sweat drying on Buffy’s skin and Spike as toasty warm as he’d ever been since his turning.
“Now that was worth the wait,” Buffy murmured into Spike’s chest.
“Thank bloody Christ that we don’t ever have to wait so long again,” Spike answered, kissing the crown of Buffy’s head. “We were magnificent, if I say so, myself.”
“Seconded,” she replied softly. “When I can move my legs again, we need to shower. There’s no need to rub Mom’s nose in the fact that we’ve boinked ourselves silly.”
The lure of a nap prevailed, however, and both Buffy and Spike slipped into a well-satisfied slumber.