Be With Me, Buffy, R
Dec. 12th, 2006 04:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Buffyverse
Title: Be With Me
Characters/Pairings: Buffy/Spike
Rating: R
Word Count: 943
Summary: The night before the big battle. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkkat who wanted: BtVS; Buffy/Spike; R-NC-17; 'Normal'--Happy Holidays, my dear...Loves to You and Nick!
Normal is not a word used to describe a home where the adult residents are only slightly out of adolescence and consist of a witch recovering from a magic addiction and a spat of being ultimate evil, a vampire Slayer who has died twice and tended to take vampires as her lovers, a second Slayer who was a fugitive from the law and a construction worker who almost married a former vengeance demon who was originally summoned to take vengeance on him. Of course, you also had to add to the mix the 100+ year old vampire who was and wasn’t the first Slayer’s lover and spent a good deal of time chained to the basement wall, and the 50+ year old former librarian and the high school principal who both came and went.
And that was just the so-called grown-ups.
It didn’t begin to touch on the bus load of potential slayers. And then there was Andrew. Buffy Summers wasn’t entirely sure where he ended up in the spectrum of age and adulthood, but she suspected he was firmly on the not-grown up end.
Normal people were leaving Sunnydale in buses. They were still bringing new people into Sunnydale. Houses stood empty, and those that weren’t empty would be soon. An apocalypse was looming, and no petty little one like they’d faced before. This would be a war unlike anything they had fought.
There was nothing normal about the battle to come. Nothing normal about sending girls, little girls who should be worrying about cheerleading and history finals, to die.
There was nothing normal in what she’d asked of Willow. Of what she’d asked of any of them really.
Buffy sat in the cold, quiet of the back yard. She’d nearly died a third time here, when Warren shot her. She’d trained those girls here. She’d planted flowers with her mother all along the fence and pushed Dawn on the swing.
“You should be in bed.”
Buffy inhaled deeply and let it go. “Gave it to three of the girls. They need it more.”
“You need sleep too.”
Buffy closed her eyes. “Not sleepy.”
Spike sighed and she smiled. “Come sit with me.” Buffy patted the bench next to her and almost before Spike was seated, straddling the bench, she leaned up against him, moving into the space between his legs.
“Buffy.”
She shook her head. “Shh. I just want to be close. Want to feel.”
He nodded, putting his arms around her and drawing her close. She rested her head against his chest and slipped her arms around him, under his jacket. This wasn’t normal either.
It was very possible that neither of them would survive the next 36 hours. It was possible that the Hellmouth would open and no amount of Slayers-in-Waiting would be enough to cram it closed again. It was possible that the third time really would be the charm, and Buffy would finally fade to black, roll credits.
His hands wandered her back idly, as if he didn’t know what else to do with them. It felt good. It felt like a man, holding his lover. It felt…normal. She leaned her head back to look up at him, at those sapphire eyes and thin mouth. Her kiss was chaste, soft and he didn’t even close his eyes. “Spike…I…want you.”
Spike shook his head. “No, pet. You just don’t want to be alone,” he said softly and in some ways she knew he was right. “You don’t want to be with me.”
She kissed him again a little more insistently and his lips parted for hers. “Be with me.” Buffy said between kisses. “Right here, right now. Before…just be with me.”
Spike’s eyes were a little sad. “I never left.”
She didn’t let it sting, didn’t let it in, just kissed him deeper, drew his hands up under her shirt. She moved so that her legs straddled his, so that her groin pushed down onto his and she felt his body respond, felt her heat pulled from the hot cavern between her legs into his cold body. It was enough…it was normal to want this…to need this touch, crave this connection…even if she was just using him and he was only letting her.
He growled as she rolled her hips and pressed herself into him. “Please Spike…be with me now.”
Spike’s hand slithered between them, getting to his zipper and releasing himself. “Yeah, baby…I’m right here.”
Buffy moaned as she shifted, moved her skirt, slid down onto him. When she had him deep inside of her she kissed him, long and slow. Her eyes closed and she started moving….slowly up and down again. Spike’s hands smoothed over her back, under her blouse. She leaned back into the touch, arching her back and angling herself so that the bottom of her stroke pressed her clit against him.
It was everything they had never had…it was tender and soft…slow…Spike’s lips followed the line of her neck, nuzzling against her collarbone, his tongue tickling, his lips pressing to skin.
It wouldn’t last…nothing so perfect ever lasted…and it would be time all too soon…time to leave each other, time to fight…time to bleed and die…and she didn’t want it to end…and she wanted it to all be over…she wanted so much…but she’d never have it…never have a normal life with all that it implied…what she had was this…
And as she came, clenching tight muscles around him until he came with her, she decided that maybe this was enough…maybe they’d come out the other end and figure out what came next…maybe there’d be time for more…
Title: Be With Me
Characters/Pairings: Buffy/Spike
Rating: R
Word Count: 943
Summary: The night before the big battle. For
darkkat who wanted: BtVS; Buffy/Spike; R-NC-17; 'Normal'--Happy Holidays, my dear...Loves to You and Nick!Normal is not a word used to describe a home where the adult residents are only slightly out of adolescence and consist of a witch recovering from a magic addiction and a spat of being ultimate evil, a vampire Slayer who has died twice and tended to take vampires as her lovers, a second Slayer who was a fugitive from the law and a construction worker who almost married a former vengeance demon who was originally summoned to take vengeance on him. Of course, you also had to add to the mix the 100+ year old vampire who was and wasn’t the first Slayer’s lover and spent a good deal of time chained to the basement wall, and the 50+ year old former librarian and the high school principal who both came and went.
And that was just the so-called grown-ups.
It didn’t begin to touch on the bus load of potential slayers. And then there was Andrew. Buffy Summers wasn’t entirely sure where he ended up in the spectrum of age and adulthood, but she suspected he was firmly on the not-grown up end.
Normal people were leaving Sunnydale in buses. They were still bringing new people into Sunnydale. Houses stood empty, and those that weren’t empty would be soon. An apocalypse was looming, and no petty little one like they’d faced before. This would be a war unlike anything they had fought.
There was nothing normal about the battle to come. Nothing normal about sending girls, little girls who should be worrying about cheerleading and history finals, to die.
There was nothing normal in what she’d asked of Willow. Of what she’d asked of any of them really.
Buffy sat in the cold, quiet of the back yard. She’d nearly died a third time here, when Warren shot her. She’d trained those girls here. She’d planted flowers with her mother all along the fence and pushed Dawn on the swing.
“You should be in bed.”
Buffy inhaled deeply and let it go. “Gave it to three of the girls. They need it more.”
“You need sleep too.”
Buffy closed her eyes. “Not sleepy.”
Spike sighed and she smiled. “Come sit with me.” Buffy patted the bench next to her and almost before Spike was seated, straddling the bench, she leaned up against him, moving into the space between his legs.
“Buffy.”
She shook her head. “Shh. I just want to be close. Want to feel.”
He nodded, putting his arms around her and drawing her close. She rested her head against his chest and slipped her arms around him, under his jacket. This wasn’t normal either.
It was very possible that neither of them would survive the next 36 hours. It was possible that the Hellmouth would open and no amount of Slayers-in-Waiting would be enough to cram it closed again. It was possible that the third time really would be the charm, and Buffy would finally fade to black, roll credits.
His hands wandered her back idly, as if he didn’t know what else to do with them. It felt good. It felt like a man, holding his lover. It felt…normal. She leaned her head back to look up at him, at those sapphire eyes and thin mouth. Her kiss was chaste, soft and he didn’t even close his eyes. “Spike…I…want you.”
Spike shook his head. “No, pet. You just don’t want to be alone,” he said softly and in some ways she knew he was right. “You don’t want to be with me.”
She kissed him again a little more insistently and his lips parted for hers. “Be with me.” Buffy said between kisses. “Right here, right now. Before…just be with me.”
Spike’s eyes were a little sad. “I never left.”
She didn’t let it sting, didn’t let it in, just kissed him deeper, drew his hands up under her shirt. She moved so that her legs straddled his, so that her groin pushed down onto his and she felt his body respond, felt her heat pulled from the hot cavern between her legs into his cold body. It was enough…it was normal to want this…to need this touch, crave this connection…even if she was just using him and he was only letting her.
He growled as she rolled her hips and pressed herself into him. “Please Spike…be with me now.”
Spike’s hand slithered between them, getting to his zipper and releasing himself. “Yeah, baby…I’m right here.”
Buffy moaned as she shifted, moved her skirt, slid down onto him. When she had him deep inside of her she kissed him, long and slow. Her eyes closed and she started moving….slowly up and down again. Spike’s hands smoothed over her back, under her blouse. She leaned back into the touch, arching her back and angling herself so that the bottom of her stroke pressed her clit against him.
It was everything they had never had…it was tender and soft…slow…Spike’s lips followed the line of her neck, nuzzling against her collarbone, his tongue tickling, his lips pressing to skin.
It wouldn’t last…nothing so perfect ever lasted…and it would be time all too soon…time to leave each other, time to fight…time to bleed and die…and she didn’t want it to end…and she wanted it to all be over…she wanted so much…but she’d never have it…never have a normal life with all that it implied…what she had was this…
And as she came, clenching tight muscles around him until he came with her, she decided that maybe this was enough…maybe they’d come out the other end and figure out what came next…maybe there’d be time for more…
