“So hard,” she murmured, almost in awe.
Her hand felt so fucking good and he was too stunned to think. Luckily, his hand decided to think on its own and his fingers slipped beneath her panties.
“So wet,” he said in return, a low, harsh whisper. Buffy arched into his touch.
“You betcha,” she said, followed by a “guuhgh” sound when his fingers went further in her, then slid slowly out. Like a dream, it was, except for the clarity of feeling. Her scent. The whisper of the sheet beneath them when he moved. The heat of her hand on him, moving on him expertly, not tentatively, just the way he loved it (needed it). The heat and slick moisture of her coating his fingers. Her little sounds she was making that made him almost come in her hand.
“Why me?” he said, his voice confused, even as his fingers touched her delicately, circling her clit as she moaned. Buffy’s eyes opened then. He shifted so that he was staring down at her. She was breathing like she had just run a marathon, which pleased Spike immensely.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she whispered as her fingers slowly teased the tip of his penis.
“If I weren’t such an awful poet I could try and put it into words,” he sighed. God, she was hot underneath him. He removed her panties with his teeth, kissed her from her toes up to her thigh, then rested his head on her belly, kissing her soft skin, just enjoying the smell of her.
“Actions, louder than words, remember that,” she murmured, spreading her legs to welcome him.
“Good point,” he replied, and began to lick her. She clamped her own hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Spike pushed her legs wider apart and tasted her, flicking his tongue across her swollen clit, drinking her in. He felt her hands on his head, pressing her into him, and quickly, so quickly, he felt her entire body freeze up before she stilled, and then she was coming, on his tongue, and he lapped it up, wanting her to feel good, wanting to make her happy, just for a moment.
Finally, he raised his head to look up at her. Her eyes were still closed tightly and she was trying to catch her breath and she looked so damned beautiful that he wanted to cry. Except that would be ridiculous and unflattering to his bad-ass image so he grinned cheekily instead.
“You alright, pet?”
She nodded, barely. Spike moved up and covered her heart with his hand, reveling in the feel of it pounding beneath his palm. I made it do that, he thought. She opened her eyes and studied him.
“I think you liquefied my bones,” she whispered, touching his cheek.
“I remember the feelin,” he said. Then he kissed her, their first real kiss in forever, and he could not get enough, kissed her deeply, and she clung to him and he figured if he was dreaming he did not want to ever, ever wake up.
Their mouths were fused and would not part, even as the tip of his cock found its way home, inside her, slowly entering her, even as she moaned his name against his mouth, he could not break the kiss. He felt her nails dig sharply in his back, her feet on his ass pushing him further into her.
Oh, the soul… the soul threatened to split inside him, it hurt, hurt to feel this good, to love this much. He broke the kiss and stared down at her in disbelief, still rocking into her. Her eyes were wide and clear as she rose to meet him. Stunned, he tried to form words, tried to make her understand the difference. How it felt now. She nodded, seemed to understand. She was slick and sweet and so tight around him but that pleasure was nothing compared to what it was like for him to see her this way, now, smiling up at him, her heart in her eyes, his soul in his. He slowed down, just watching her, not wanting it to end. He felt, for the first time, complete. Whole.
He came then, crying into her neck as he shuddered his release. He felt her kisses, felt her strength as she held him.
“Buffy,” he whispered. “Oh, love.”
“That’s me,” she said.
“You sound happy,” he said, shifting off her. It hurt to leave her. She turned and looked at his face. He could see her, so clearly now.
“I am. Really, really am.” He traced a line from her chin down to her belly then back again, studying her body. He kissed her shoulder, very softly.
“Not right to feel this good when the world’s about to end,” she sighed.
“Nah. Sex, affirmation of life, all that. It’s our big ‘Fuck Off’ to the First,” Spike decided.
“Love the way you think,” she murmured.
“Let’s tell it to fuck off again, then.”
“Not right now. And don’t pout at me like that. Let me rest a minute.”
“Aren’t you even a little tired?”
“I’m a sex-starved creature of the night, pet. Not sleepy at all. S’okay though. You go to sleep.” He held her close and felt her soft breath on his chest and tried not to smile too much.
Spike fell asleep first, about one minute later, Buffy soon behind him. Just tangled up in each other, uninterrupted by sunrise. Not a bad way to begin a new day.