Buffy wearily waved goodbye and adieu to the last of her coworkers and decided that she was going to be a little bit less conscientious next time. Sure, she got the nifty badge that said ‘Assistant Manager,’ but she also got stuck doing the closing, because she was so damned good at it.
After the hectic days, the silence of the restaurant was peaceful….for a few minutes. Then she noticed how loud the fridge was when she banged the door shut. Then she noticed the sounds and smells coming in through the drive through window. Then she noticed resentful thoughts she had been too busy and too tired to feel before hand. Such as, why am I stuck working my behind off? And then she would go out and slay….till she was so tired she would collapse into bed and not think.
Not thinking was definitely good. Not remembering was even better. She found tops to containers, labeled and dated them, carried them to the fridge and slammed the door shut. The sound seemed to reverberate in the little restaurant. She grabbed the green scrubbies and went to work on the baked-on gunk in the microwave, which looked so much like demon innards that she paused and sniffed at the sponge thoughtfully. Nope, not demon innards. American cheese. Big diff.
She was going to be so tired tonight. She knew she was going to tumble into bed, and then there would be no thoughts…..She kept coming back to the notion of….it. Him. That. During it, of course, there’d been no thought, except for a conscious effort to breathe. But then….how could she not be embarrassed?
Uh. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts brought back to mind the certainty she’d had all day the day after, that while he….he….had turned out to be way more than she expected, she herself had somehow turned out to be less. She wondered if she would ever be able to think about..it…without cringing. “Very mature, Buffy”.
She hauled another armload of containers to the fridge and then gave the door and satisfying bang. It was so humid in the kitchen area, where there were no windows at all, despite the fact that it was the area most likely to need them in the whole restaurant. She sighed, turned, around, and then went to the drive through. Just for a minute. She needed the air. She was distinctly aware of how flushed her face felt, but it wasn’t the exertion that did it. She pushed open the window, and leaned out, smelling the jasmine on the rain-heavy air. Breathing. Very good.
Oh, it would be so good if she never saw him again, because when she had, she saw it all again…..Who would have known what he was like? How could she have known? With Riley, well, it was very much like Riley during normal circumstances, except there was more sweat involved. Sometimes there was jaw clenching. Then there were the sheets. Always sheets in the way, getting entangled in them, keeping her from….
She gulped down the soda because her throat was abruptly dry.
With Spike…She wasn’t even aware she was holding her breath. With Spike….who knew how soft his face was capable of getting? How could she have possibly known how long his eyelashes were till she saw them suddenly as his eyes squeezed shut beneath her, gasping, as he shuddered under her, in her, his hands clenching on her hips? There had been no sheets in the way with Spike; not even clothes after the first time, not after they’d torn frantically at each other’s buttons and snaps, kissing, gasping, separating for necessary seconds, then desperately positioning and ……And she wouldn’t forget that.
He was beautiful, the look on his face as she slid down on him slowly, his hands tightening on her hips convulsively. But she was sure there was nothing alluring about the way she had looked….She remembered the sensation too well, now, staring off into the twilight, feeling again the twinges of arousal that made her body move without her permission in ways she hadn’t known it was capable of. It wasn’t supposed to be like that; she was certain of it. How could she believe it was like that, that people could do that, then get up, get dressed, and go out into the world and leave behind the memory of what they’d done in the darkness?
They’d slept intermittently through the night, and then she’d awakened with a gasp, from a dream she couldn’t remember…a dream of aching pleasure, to find his hands on her breasts, her body twisting and turning, and Spike, between her legs in the darkness, as invisible as if he’d been in a mirror, but, oh, she could hear what he was doing, as surely as she could feel it….Though at first, she didn’t believe what he was doing….And then she was too far gone. It was one thing for her to see him as he shuddered with pleasure so intense it almost hurt, to see his face more naked than his body, but for him to see her, to taste her, to touch her….that was not fair. And he hadn’t stopped, till she was so weak she almost cried, as certainly as if he’d drained her blood. What was it he had drained from her instead?
The noise behind her made her whirl around and she dropped the soda in a plume of foam on the floor. For a second, they stared at each other, she white-faced except for two hectic spots of red on each cheek, he, somewhat abashed, scratching nervously at his jaw with his thumb.
“Y—Y—Y—You’re not supposed to be in here.”
He shrugged, glancing around, carefully, his posture stiff and careful.
“I—I—have a job to do, you know, I can’t do it with you hanging over me…”
Oh. Bad. Oh, so very bad. She could just see him again, just at the moment he was about to….She gawped at him, her flush turning deeper and deeper.
“I have stuff to do, you can’t lurk around like this….”
She brushed by him, too close, and smelled him so intensely that she shivered with it. He wasn’t happy about getting brushed off, either…He frowned at her, and she shuddered away from him, not in fear….of him, that is, but of herself…one little slip…
Then she was at the preparation table, and there were things to do, and she prattled away at him, in the desperate hope she might possibly scare him away with the power of inane chatter…..
”You know, I need this job, I can’t have people visiting me, and you were already here this afternoon, what, do you like making me feel bad?”
Oh, she flinched at that, knowing perfectly well that that was not the case at all…
”I can’t afford to lose this job, I have Dawn to think about, I have the house payment….” I have the smell of your cigarettes around me, the smell of the leather we laid on, rolled on, what are you thinking….”
She folded and packaged and arranged, babbling, while he lounged beside her against the edge of the table, his side to her, where if she just glanced out of the corner of her eye she’d see his lean figure, wonder if the scratches she’d left on his chest when she’d….
She stopped abruptly. It was absolutely silent in the restaurant. Even the clock ticked too quietly. She could almost hear her legs trembling.
If she turned, she would see him, see that concerned look on his face…. If she turned….
He saved her from the effort. He leaned in and kissed her, and the silence was broken by the sibilance of kisses, the creak of leather. She wasn’t even aware of turning, her arms sliding up his arms to his neck, just as long as his mouth was on hers, just as long as she could taste his tongue…
In a fraction of a second, she was pressed between him and the table, and he was harder than the table. She’d never known kisses like this, except perhaps with Angel, so eloquent and so urgent at the same time, accompanied by those little noises she’d never noticed before.
His arms went all the way around her, but they didn’t stay in one place, as if she were territory he had to experience before he could be satisfied.
He broke off for air, her chin in one hand, looking into her eyes. Oh, God, why did he have to do that, he looked at her as if he couldn’t fathom what his eyes were seeing, like she was some treasure. He caught her frown, too, and folded his palm against her cheek, as if she were some fractious child.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” He whispered back. “Like I love you?”
Still, she thought. Still he did. It was her turn to look back, to search for ambiguity that wasn’t there. She couldn’t have said what she felt then, even if she knew what it was, and she didn’t even know that much.
Instead she kissed him again, and hoped it said what she couldn’t. They backed into the kitchen area, banging up against the wall, which was good because her legs were shaking, and which was bad as well, because walls were precisely how they’d gotten into this mess in the first place.
There were two layers of clothes too many between them, and their hands skidded over leather and cotton with clutching, greedy fingers. He found her breast with one hand and in one smooth echoing movement surged against her so urgently that she arched one leg around his legs without even being aware of it.
His hand dropped from her breast to the waistband of her skirt, and he pulled back from the kiss, watching her as his hand slid past her belly button, till they both gasped.
Her hands clenched around his neck, in his hair, and in her extremity, she couldn’t even look away from his eyes. He pressed his forehead to hers and thrust his mouth against hers, even as their pelvises ground together and his fingers plunged into her soaking depths.
He pulled back and she realized he was holding his breath as she was. She was alert to only two things; his face and what he was doing to her. And his face had that soft look that she had seen only before when he had been about to explode, so why now…why…It was if her pleasure gave him as much pleasure as his own.
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She first arched against him, then sagged against his shoulder as it hit her, her muscles shuddering to a stop, and then spasming with the release, aftershock hitting her again and again. Then there was forever, till she was aware she was breathing again, and she was standing, and her inner muscles were quivering with weakness and eagerness.
Then she realized he was more or less holding her up like she was a child. He gave her a very tentative, almost sleepy smile, and she pulled him to her mouth to kiss him languorously, luxuriously, long slow wet kisses that ended abruptly as they pressed closer together.
She slid her hands over his chest, and with a boldness she’d never felt before, slid her hands to his crotch and caressed the straining bulge there almost abashedly. Her reward was the way he gasped back from her mouth, and opened and closed his mouth with a shudder. His eyes were huge, and his entire body shook against her.
“I did that to him”, she thought.
”Oh, I know what else I want to do”, she thought, and then they were stumbling against the back door into the alley.
They broke apart long enough to prop the door apart and then Spike was backing her against the old metal fire escape, till she sat on one of the steps suddenly.
Once her shaking legs no longer had to bear her weight, she suddenly found all kinds of strength in her hands, pulling his shirt out of his pants so she could caress his chest, finding his nipples with her mouth, while he fumbled with his belt and her breast alternatively. With shaking hands, he ripped open her blouse and seized one of her nipples between his teeth, and Buffy made a gasping choking sound she’d never made before.
She found his fly with her hands and ripped it open, shoving his jeans down just far enough to free his erection. At the touch of her hands, Spike jerked convulsively and his cock bobbed against her soaking folds. He grabbed her face between both hands and kissed her so savagely she moaned, while he thrust against her. He broke free for one second, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon, and then pushed her panties aside with one hand.
Then he pressed his erection against her and found her entrance with a long explosive sigh. She grabbed his hips to pull him closer, her eyes locked with his, biting her lip to keep from making any more noise, which resolve lasted precisely as long as it took him to begin thrusting, faster and faster. Oh, she knew the things men and women did together, but she never knew it could be like this, that she could be doing this, anywhere, and not care, as long as he was buried inside her and his eyes were on her, as long as his face looked as if he was in pain, and she was the only thing who could bring him surcease….It had never been like this, a fever that fed itself, a hunger that perpetuated its existence.
He was the one inside her but she felt she was inside him, and it still wasn’t enough; she wanted to crawl inside him. She wrapped her legs around him to bring him closer and it still wasn’t close enough, not while there were clothes between them, not while he was separated from her by so much as his skin.
She could feel her muscles tightening, knew she was getting close, and looked up at him, gasping.
“Look at me, look at me….” She whispered.
She could hear only the creak of the step she was on, the noises they made, the noises their bodies made, and it was too much for her to hang on any longer. The crescendo broke over her and she arched beneath him as if shocked by an electric current, shuddering as each wave broke over her. Her climax sent him over the edge, and she held his face in her hands as his eyes squeezed shut almost in pain and he jerked against her. Everything had been fast and furious before this; now everything was exquisitely slow. They kissed as if tasting each other for the first time, lazily, almost sleepily, feeling the twinges of soreness.
“Oh, this is crazy”, she thought. “This is crazy, crazy”.
He slipped out of her, and pulled his pants back up, managing this despite never once stopping the kissing. He helped her adjust her clothes, which she was amazed to discover included her panties.
It wasn’t until she put her feet on the ground that she realized she was till shaking, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Spike was still ‘helping’, kissing her with sighs mixed in, so that it was impossible to do more than tug at her shirt before the kissing took over, and clothes be damned.
Somehow they got all adjusted and covered despite never once separating at the mouth, which is probably what caused them to reach the wall and stay there.
At long last, it was possible, even necessary to pull apart and breathe. She buried her face in his chest and rubbed her nose against his shirt, which made him laugh, and which in turn made her giggle because she could feel it.
“What?” He demanded bemusedly.
“I just realized how much I’m going to like this job.”
Continued in Chapter 2