I'm going to try going to bed and see if that helps. I'm deathly afraid I've finally managed to push myself just a wee bit too far...
I</i> like this one. She’s got spunk.
Though Buffy’s little disappearing trick with his fags and lighter now meant Spike was cut off from his team, it hadn’t been something he hadn’t anticipated. It just meant being a little more on his toes, keeping an eye on the tiny blonde in case she decided to get a little weapon-happy before the time was right. It would probably be a knife, he mused as he turned away from the ocean to look back at her. He’d heard this one had a thing for sharp, pointy things.
“You expect me to brush before I kiss you, too?” he drawled. Before she could react, his hand shot out and grabbed Buffy’s waist, pulling her roughly against his lean form. He smirked when he felt her momentarily stiffen, and bent his head to brush his lips along the line of her jaw. “Seems like such a waste of time when we could be havin’ so much more fun.”
She wasn’t fighting the embrace, but Spike could still feel the tension coiled in her muscles as she prepared for some kind of fight. He chose to ignore it. She didn’t have a weapon in her hands, and with her held so tightly against his lower half, he’d have plenty of time to react should she try a more subtle attack. Besides, knowing the danger in what he was doing was half of what made all this worth it.
“Relax, luv,” he murmured into her skin. His mouth watered from the tiny tastes his tongue was treating him with, and he felt his arousal tighten his jeans further. “Nothin’ wrong with a dance before we make our little exchange, now is there?”
She moaned in response, grinding her hips harder into his, and Spike felt her small hands slide beneath his coat and around his back. For a moment, he stiffened, alert to any sign of peril, but when he felt her fingers begin kneading at the hard muscles they discovered there, he resumed his oral exploration of her neck with vigor.
It was so tempting to lose himself in the sensations. She tasted of butterscotch, with a whisky chaser, and every swipe of his tongue only submerged him further in the brio that was Buffy. Any other circumstances, he would’ve been tumbling head over heels in lust with the girl, not that he wasn’t halfway there already; now, though, Spike had to fight to remind himself of the job he had to do, of the reason he’d agreed to this farce of a meeting in the first place.
You’re doin’ this for Dru, you wanker.
Thinking of his ex was enough of a cold wash to focus his attention, and Spike slowed his caresses as he lifted his free hand to stroke the opposite side of her neck. Fingertips tickled the soft skin it found there, and the moment he felt her giggle against his chest, his fingers found the clasp of her necklace and pinched it tight.
“Oh!” Buffy cried out as the gold cross slipped to the ground. She pulled back, ducking her head to look for it, but Spike was faster.
“Let me.” Pretending to fumble in the sand, he quickly spotted the glitter of the charm and set the toe of his boot over it, grinding it to an audible crunch. He straightened to see Buffy’s dropped jaw. “Oops.”
“Uh oh,” Willow said, staring down at the tiny silver box in her hand. She gave it a good shake, tilting her head as if she were listening for something, and then shook it again.
Xander stopped in mid-chew. “Uh oh’s are not good,” he said around a mouthful of pizza. He cast a glance at the crowd that passed by them on the bench before leaning sideways to peer at the receiver Willow held. “Did Buffy blow her cover?”
“I don’t know.” Another shake. “But I’m pretty sure she lost her transmitter.”
“How?” He was on his feet in a flash, the pizza tossed into the trashcan at the bench’s side. “Short of cutting off her head, how does she lose a necklace?”
She just shrugged, unwilling to tell Xander just what she’d heard happening on the other end of the receiver. It was Buffy’s job, and Willow wasn’t one to question her methods, even though those said methods seemed to have been more of the kiss me now variety than the kill you now. She began walking briskly up the boardwalk, Xander right on her heels.
“They weren’t fighting,” she said, “which is good, because then hopefully it was just an accident that it broke or something.”
“So how are we supposed to find her now?”
She didn’t look back. “We start with where she was when I lost the signal.”