Title: A Quiet Moment
Summary: When you come back from the dead, quiet moments are hard to find.
Word Count: 1004
Notes: Set post Chosen. I see this as kind of an interlude sequel to my story Rendezvous, but there's no reference to that. Basically, just imagine that Spike has been rescued from the amulet in the crater and they're staying in a hotel. I'll be honest. I wanted to write shower sex, lol.
When you come back from the dead, quiet moments are hard to find. People have questions. A lot of them. And they seem to think you possess an equal desire to talk about what happened as theirs, when in reality, you just want to get on with your life and forget about the fact that it wasn’t that long ago you didn’t have one at all.
Buffy had to wait her turn. Giles would’ve let her go first, but she had no intention of sitting through more interrogations after she was done.
Besides, talking to Spike wasn’t what she had in mind.
When Giles finally exited after the last of the gang was done, Buffy stood at the door for a second just looking at Spike. He hadn’t moved from where he sat on the end of the bed for the past four hours, and now his shoulders were slumped with exhaustion, the shadows beneath his eyes as much from weariness as they were dust from the Sunnydale crater. The ache that had eased in her heart with his return throbbed anew, and she began to wish she’d put her foot down at the start and kicked everybody out until Spike was ready for them.
“Come on.” Marching forward, she caught his wrist and hauled him to his feet, unsurprised he didn’t fight her.
“What’re you doin’, Buffy?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble.
She looked back at him, not bothering to hide her feelings any longer. “Taking care of you.”
The bathroom was tiny, the tub chipped, but she turned the water up as hot as it would go and silently gave thanks that steam began to curl up the tile almost immediately. Spike stood motionless through it all, even when she faced him again and peeled her shirt over her head. His quickly followed, then her bra and her jeans.
She cut him off with a kiss, her lips hard and demanding as they plundered his. She didn’t want to hear reasons why this was a bad idea, or explanations about what he’d meant about her not loving him, or anything else that might stop her from finding the connection she’d yearned for since discovering he was back. She needed this. She had to believe he needed it, too.
When she shivered, it wasn’t from the rising moisture. Her tremors came from the way his arms wrapped around her, tugging her against his chest as she clutched at his shoulders. Everywhere they touched heated up, her tongue scalding where it tangled with his, her lungs burning the longer she clung to him. For a brief moment, she flashed on the flames that had danced around their joined hands, but just as quickly, she shoved the image away.
This wasn’t about then. This was about now. About their future. The one they might finally be able to work toward together.
The room spun as Spike lifted her up and stepped into the tub. The water molded his jeans to his legs, and the thickening line of his erection became more prominent. As Buffy tugged at his fly, Spike bent and captured her nipple between his teeth, biting down hard enough for her to gasp at the immediate shock that went to her clit.
Her fingers scrabbled for a hold, but his wet skin made it impossible to find. His waistband was rough against her skin, made worse by the grinding of their hips, until Buffy had to give up on trying to strip him on her own.
“Get these off,” she panted.
When Spike lifted his head, droplets of water clung to his jaw. On impulse, Buffy tilted up and licked them off. He groaned, but he somehow managed to do as she’d told, shoving his jeans down his lean legs and kicking the sodden mess over the edge of the tub.
“No more dying,” she whispered. Pushing him to the wall, she climbed up his body until the tip of his cock nudged at her pussy. “Promise me, Spike. I can’t lose anybody else again.”
Cupping her nape, Spike turned so that his cheek caressed hers, his lips at her ear. “You can’t ever lose me, luv. I’m in you as much as you’re in me. Nothin’ will ever change that. Not even death.”
She believed him, but all she could do was tighten her arms and legs and sink down the length of his shaft. Each stroke was slow and deliberate, neither one of them willing to do what it took to rush this to its natural conclusion. Buffy buried her face in his neck, tasting his skin as she scraped her teeth along the muscle, while Spike’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, gaining strength by the minute. Ragged nails raked over her hip, callused fingertips encircled a taut nipple, sure palms kneading tense muscles. It was both too much sensation and not enough, driving off any residual fears she’d had about their future.
Eventually, his mouth came back to hers, her name a prayer on his lips. Buffy tumbled into the pleasure headfirst, poised on the brink of orgasm as Spike drove into her pussy with increasingly stronger thrusts. When his fingers found her clit, she cried out, everything unleashing, her body writhing with pleasure as she clawed at his shoulders.
She was barely aware of his release, or the way he continued to kiss her long after she was sure he was done. Her watery limbs eased their tight hold, but Spike had enough remaining strength for both of them, keeping her close as their kisses slowed and deepened. They shifted into tiny nibbles, soft caresses peppering the other’s jaw, until Buffy had to stop, her chest tight with the need to breathe.
The only sound she could hear was the patter of the water against the tile and the hollow echo as it ran down the drain.
For the quiet moment she’d craved with Spike since his return, it would more than do.