Making Waves

Chapter 28 - First Step

It was some hours later before Buffy’s dark mood lifted. After they’d dressed, returned to the car and driven away from the lake, Buffy expected Spike would just drop her at home and be done with her for the evening. To coin a phrase of her grandmother’s, ‘no one wants to spend time with a Grumpy Greta.’

The adage was as dated as it was flawed, or perhaps Spike was just the exception to the rule. While they had returned to her home, it was not before a surprise trip to the grocery store.

“I didn’t know you could cook!” Buffy exclaimed.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Spike responded with a smirk.

“Well, I look forward to finding them all out.”

Not only did he pay for the items required for the meal, he cooked and cleaned up afterward as well. Currently they were cuddled on the sofa in the living room, the TV on low as they talked. Mostly, Buffy gushed about the extent to which Spike had spoiled her that day. She was in heaven.

“Are you sure you’re not related to Prince Charming?” Buffy queried.

“I’m sure,” Spike laughed.

“I think I can honestly say that meal was the tastiest thing I’ve ever eaten. My mouth is in heaven!”

At the reference to her mouth Spike’s gaze lowered. Instantly the light-hearted mood evaporated, to be replaced with something much more heated. Buffy was the first to react by throwing herself into his arms. When their lips met there was no pretence, no denying where this would lead if they allowed it to continue.

Any restraint Spike had quickly spiralled out of his control when Buffy suckled on his lower lip. It wasn’t just a kiss; it wasn’t even a subtle taste. In fact this was far beyond the realm of subtle or innocent or pure, or anything else he’d previously associated with the girl seated on his lap. Grinding against him. It was sensual and seductive, a very clear expression of intent. Buffy was marking him, claiming ownership, her lips mating with his. The kiss was scorching; she was burning her essence into him, declaring in very blatant terms that he was hers. After a kiss such as this there would be no escape, even if he wished it—which he very much did not.

Coherent thought fled his capability as Spike gave into the positively sinful pleasures of her mouth. And he wanted more. He’d realised earlier Buffy had captured his heart. Her kisses now stole his free will. If asked he could say, without a shadow of doubt, she owned him.

Spike mourned the loss when contact broke momentarily, only to have his desire surge moments later when he realised the reason for the separation.

Buffy was shirtless, her blouse carelessly discarded to the floor.

Before Spike could give voice to the question in his eyes Buffy was upon him again. She wanted this, he wanted this—the hardness beneath her clear evidence of just how much—and she wasn’t going to let Spike’s propriety to come between them again. His concern was touching, the fact he wanted her to be sure a testament to the sort of man he was. And it only strengthened her conviction. What she had with Spike was special, and she wanted to show him just how much she cared, how much she wanted him.

Spike was having a great deal of trouble maintaining a clear head. The combination of Buffy’s ardent kisses and free roaming hands sent his blood rushing to a very specific part of his anatomy. Ignoring the warm body wiggling between his legs was not a possibility.

He broke the kiss, murmuring against her lips with equal parts desire and hesitation. “Buffy… please, pet…”

“No, don’t stop,” Buffy begged against his throat, her tongue laving a trail from his ear along his jaw line, before returning to his lips again. She kissed him fiercely, fisting the hem of his t-shirt in her hands. When they parted for breath she tugged the offending material upward. She thought he’d fight her, thought he’d try and make her stop. But Spike didn’t resist. He just stared at her with that look again, the god-I-want-this-but-please-make-me-stop look she’d become very familiar with recently. A brilliant smile lit up her face at the realisation he wasn’t going to try and talk her out of anything.

Buffy’s hands snaked down his toned chest, and Spike groaned. She lingered at his nipples, pinching and twisting one between her fingers before replacing her hands with her lips. When her mouth and his chest connected, a hoarse cry escaped Spike’s lips. She smiled around his nipple, proud of the effect she was having on him. As her lips and tongue teased his aroused flesh her hands continued on their journey, searching for the key to the barrier of denim between them—his belt. Her fingers found the clasp, lifting it up to release the hook before tugging it open.

Spike was lost in a haze of lust, completely at her mercy. She was slowly driving him mad with desire, her lips taunting his over-sensitised nipples while her hands flirted with his abdomen. When Buffy’s fingers fumbled with the button fly of his jeans reality snapped back.

Not here, not like this. Not on a sofa…

His hands wrapped around her wrists, halting her movement. “Buffy, no.”

Buffy heaved the frustrated sigh of one who was so close, yet so far, from what she desired. She’d been wondering how far she could take things before Spike’s moral code—where she was concerned at least—would force him to stop.

“Buffy, look at me, love,” he pleaded.

It was with great hesitation she did so, not wanting to confirm the rejection she expected in his gaze. However when she met his gaze rejection was nowhere to be found. She saw desire, adoration, and longing. He wanted her.

“Not no?” she questioned with a slight frown.

Spike chuckled quietly. “Definitely not no.”

“Then what—” She trailed off.

“Not here,” he stated softly.


A few moments passed before realisation sunk in, a rosy blush tinging her cheeks.


Spike’s smile was hesitant, almost shy, and Buffy didn’t fight the giddy grin that crept across hers in response.


Spike nodded.


Buffy didn’t move. Her courage fled her now that she’d won, now that she’d finally convinced Spike she wanted this. After a moments hesitation she removed herself from his lap and stood before him. A sudden shyness overcame her at her state of undress and she wrapped her arms around herself.


She had to keep the mood light or else risk one of them backing out. A mischievous grin curled her lips, the smirk stretching at the questioning arch of Spike’s brow.

“You want me,” Buffy said shyly.

“Yes.” Spike nodded vehemently. “But if—”

“Then you’ll have to catch me.”

With a squeal, Buffy darted out of range and toward the kitchen.

Spike remained still for a moment, stunned by his girlfriend’s sudden flight, before taking off after her.


She’d managed to elude Spike for just under a minute before he caught her. A few circles around the kitchen island and he had her well and truly trapped, stuck in a corner with no way out. Spike prowled toward her with intent, a devilish leer curling his lips. Prepared and expecting capture, Buffy resorted to distraction tactics. She reached behind her back and, with a flick of her fingers, released her bra.

The skimpy garment hit his chest with a thwap but he didn’t even notice it. Spike’s eyes had bugged at the sight of Buffy’s naked breasts, any plans of advancement immediately forgotten at the sight of her bared chest.

Distraction successful, Buffy wrapped her arms around herself—to minimise the bounce factor—and shot off toward the stairs, a giggle bursting from her lips.

“Why you sneaky little…”

Buffy was halfway up the stairs when Spike reached the first step.

“Oi, that’s cheating.”

“All’s fair!” she sing-songed over her shoulder, another squeal escaping her lips when she heard the thump of Spike’s feet on the stairs behind her. Running with your arms wrapped around yourself wasn’t easy!

“Rot! Resorting to dirty tactics, distracting a bloke like that. It’s downright despicable.”

Buffy giggled again as she rounded the top of the stair well. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

He was gaining on her, fumbling with the handle to her door costing her precious seconds. It finally opened with a whoosh just as Spike’s arms reached her shoulders. Buffy pushed through the doorway and the pair collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Minx,” Spike growled against her neck, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of her ear.

Buffy’s giggles tapered off slowly, her mirth quickly replaced with desire. She’d never felt anything quite like this before, the way his tongue was dancing across her neck. The warmth of his body, pressed so intimately against hers, sent a shiver through her spine and caused the rest of the world to blink out of existence. Everything faded away except for Spike, herself, and the sensations he was creating within her. He was waking delicious new feelings inside of her, and she didn’t think she would ever get enough.


“More,” she gasped.

Spike didn’t let himself think, he knew he wanted Buffy, wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another person, and right now there was no room for anything but absolute certainty. She was lying beneath him, her lips parted, eyes glazed with lust, and he’d never seen a sight so enticing. And it was largely because he wasn’t alone with the longing; his desire for her was fully reciprocated. The feel of her soft curves pressing against him drove him wild, and when she arched her back off the ground, causing her breasts to brush against his chest, Spike knew there was no going back. He tasted her lips, beckoning her to let him inside and deepen the kiss. When she responded by eagerly parting her lips, her tongue darting out to caress his, Spike felt another wave of pleasure wash through him.

When their tongues collided Buffy moaned. Spike had kissed her numerous times before, they’d spent countless hours making out before, during and after their many dates, but this was different. This wasn’t just a regular kiss, this was one of the toe curling, nipple hardening, desire mounting kisses that weakened the knees—or would have had she not already been lying on the floor.

Spike’s mouth left hers and travelled down the nape of her neck, nipping and licking and sucking the sensitive flesh. When he ground his erection between her thighs she gasped, clutching at his shoulders and wantonly pressing herself against him. Her breasts flatted against his chest, her over-aroused nipples scraping against his sculptured pectorals, sending shocks of pleasure to spider through her. His lips trailed down her collarbone, peppering kisses across her skin and then lowering, forging a pathway to her breasts. At first contact Buffy gasped, arching her hips off the floor to collide with his, causing his hardness to press more intimately against her. Which in turn elicited another gasp. He was driving her mad with lust and they’d barely even begun.

Spike groaned when Buffy thrust herself against him, the knowledge that it was his ministrations making her so wild filling him with all sorts of pride. He lifted himself above her, seeing that her eyes were clouded with desire, her lips swollen from their earlier kisses and just begging for more attention. Spike knew if he kissed her there would be no turning back. He didn’t even hesitate. This just felt so right, so perfect.

Buffy gasped when their mouths collided once more. Driven purely by passion she deepened it, almost daring Spike to back off. But back off Spike did not. When his tongue met with hers she moaned, her need for him making her dizzy and light headed. She pushed her leg between his, rubbing against his erection, a purely feminine smile curling her lips when Spike broke the kiss and groaned.

“Buffy, god…” he whispered against her jaw. One hand snaked around through her hair, holding her closer, while the other hesitantly traced irregular patterns at her side.

Buffy felt like she was going to combust, Spike’s touch sparking a fire in its wake. She was burning up and it still wasn’t enough. Reaching for his hand she lifted it to her breast, a contented moan escaping her lips. Her own hands began their own exploration, her nails scraping his back before settling on his behind and clutching him to her. A deliberate thrust of her hips had them both groaning in need.

“Spike, god! Spike I need—”

“Make me stop,” Spike pleaded. “Buffy, please, tell me to stop.”

Buffy froze beneath him, terrified of being rejected.

“Spike?” she whispered hesitantly.

“Tell me to stop, Buffy,” he begged. “If you don’t tell me I—”

Buffy saw it for what it was, not a rejection but a last ditch effort at preserving the way things were. An escape, if she so decided.

Escape was the furthest thing from her mind.

“I want you.”

“Buffy!” Spike groaned.

That was it, the death of his self control. There was no way he could deny her, not when she urged him on with her breathy sighs and her not so innocent thrusts against him. He’d hardened even more at her confession. Reaching between them he found the button of her jeans and popped it, then dragged the zipper downward.

Aiding in the removal process Buffy lifted her hips from the floor, shimmying out of the offending material. When her jeans bunched around her ankles she used her feet to kick them off. Now all that was between herself and Spike was her lacy underwear and… Spike’s jeans?

“Jeans, off.”

Spike chuckled at the order, silencing himself at the fierce glare Buffy shot his way. Rolling back onto his haunches he stood up. One by one he popped the button fly, his cock springing free the moment the material loosened. Hands on his hips he pushed the jeans downward, kicking his feet free when they dropped to the floor.

Buffy’s eyes had widened impossibly. Spike was naked. Bare as the day he was born. And he was standing in front of her as if it were the most normal thing in the world. In fact, when she finally dragged her gaze from his… appendage, she found his eyes dancing with mirth.

“It’s… are… so…” Coherent thought fled her capability, apparently along with the ability to string a sentence together.

Spike contained his mirth, barely. “You goin’ to sit on the floor starin’ at me or did you wanna join me somewhere a little more comfortable?”

She opened her mouth to speak, honestly she did, but when her eyes dropped downward again the words dried up in her throat.

“P’haps not?” He arched a brow, a devilish grin on his face as he continued suggestively. “Well, while you’re down there…”

Buffy spluttered in disbelief, quickly scrambling to her feet. “Why you arro—”

“Much better,” Spike cut off, wrapping his arms around her to pull her flush against him, his lips swooping for hers.

“Not nice to tease,” she mumbled when the kiss broke a few seconds later.

“Who said I was teasin’?”

“Oh!” Buffy wriggled in Spike’s arms, trying to free herself.

Spike chuckled loudly, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “’M sorry, baby. I’m a bad rude man.”

“Boy,” Buffy corrected, poking her tongue out in defiance.


“Well, you are.”

Spike arched a brow. “How so?” he asked with mock curiosity and a pointed thrust of his hips. “Because I can assure you, love, I am anything but a boy.”

Buffy bit her lip to contain the groan his action elicited. She should’ve known he wouldn’t let her comment slide, but if he could tease then so could she. “Well a man wouldn’t just stand around when he had a naked gi—”

The words were kissed off her lips. One hand fisted in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss while his other snaked down her back and grabbed a handful of her behind. Greedy lips swallowed her surprised squeal and with a tug she was pulled toward him again. Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck and returned the kiss with equal fervour, all the while taking slow steps back toward the bed. When her knees hit the edge of the mattress she threw herself backward, pulling Spike along for the ride.

The landing was soft, lips never parting.

Spike hands were everywhere. Caressing her face, fondling her breasts, tickling her sides, exploring her—


A pleasured sigh rolled off her lips and was quickly followed by another when his lips lowered to her pebbled nipples.

“Oh, oh god… Spike!”

Spike dipped one hand between Buffy’s legs and pushed aside the scrap of material she called underwear, his fingers ghosting the lips of sex. She was warm to the touch, and his fingers slid with ease against her aroused flesh.

“So wet for me, baby,” he groaned. “All for me.”

It was more a statement than a question but that didn’t stop Buffy’s answering moan. “Yes, yes! Just for you.”

“No one else.” His fingers parted her pussy lips and dipped inside. Spike smiled against her breast when her hips immediately rose from the bed to deepen the contact.

“No. Just you, only you.” Buffy writhed against his hand, a gasp tearing from her lips. It was too much and not enough at the same time.


Her name was a prayer on his lips. In the one word she could hear everything—his desire, his pleasure, his need, his affection. When he said her name like that Buffy felt cherished. She loved it, loved everything he was doing to her but she needed more.

So she spread her legs wider in invitation.

Spike was surprised by her action, his gasp a testament to his awe. But he didn’t slow. He didn’t question. This was her choice and he knew, knew they wouldn’t regret this. Grasping the lacy material in his hands he slowly slid the final barrier between them down her shapely legs. Buffy shivered in anticipation.

Placing a kiss on the top of both feet Spike prowled up Buffy’s body, hovering above her as he settled between her legs. He captured her lips once more.

Delighted as she was by his kisses Buffy was becoming impatient. They were so close. She could feel the hardness of Spike’s erection pressing against her thigh. Taking matters into her own hands, literally, Buffy encircled a hand at the base of his cock, rubbing the head against her opening.

Spike hissed in appreciation, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily. The warmth of her hand coupled with the heat from her sex was a dangerous combination.

“Buffy,” he gasped. “Buffy, love, we—”

With her hand guiding his hard length Buffy surged her hips off the bed. Her mewl of satisfaction was answered by a strangled cry of pleasure when Spike entered her.

“Oh god!” Her hand flew to Spike’s forearms, her fingers digging in as she held him tightly.


When she shifted below him he slowly pulled out of her before pushing back in. His eyes rolled back into his head. She was so warm, so wet, so tight. So bloody perfect, my perfect Buffy…

“Oh god, Spike!”

“Perfect, my perfect Buffy.” He withdrew again, this time thrusting forward with a little more force. Spike was having trouble maintaining a semblance of control. It was getting harder and harder to maintain control over the speed of his thrusts. The noises she was making, the way she thrust against him, the look of pure unadulterated lust that burned from her eyes, all of it made the primal need to furiously pound her into the mattress that much harder to resist. The one thought which managed to stop him was that this was happening. Buffy was really here, in bed with him, and the last thing he wanted to do was mess it up and spoil any chances of a repeat in the future.

Buffy’s fingers bit into Spike’s arms so hard they’d likely bruise, but he barely noticed the pain. He pumped into her a little faster and was rewarded with a pleasured groan. She gasped, she moaned, she panted, and her sounds were driving Spike insane. He wanted to hear more, wanted to give her more.


“My Buffy, mine! Oh god, you—”

“Oh my god!” she breathed, arching her back off the bed.

“Buffy… so beautiful, so perfect.”


When their rhythm increased again Buffy was the one responsible. Spike kissed her passionately, pouring all of his emotion, all of the love he felt for her into her lips, before moving to suckle her neck.

“Oh god, Spike! More!” Buffy demanded. She was burning up, a swirling pool of desire and sensation building deep in her belly. Her lips tingled from Spike’s ardent kisses and her flesh seared where his fingers trailed. She’d never felt anything so… so… she was lost of words. It was just right.

“Good, so good!” She scraped her nails up his back and down again, before grasping his behind and encouraging him to speed up his thrusts. “More,” she demanded.

Spike started thrusting in earnest, desperate for release. A light sheen of sweat coated their flesh, glistening in the moonlit room, aiding the slip and slide of their bodies. Spike was not a selfish lover by any stretch, and when he felt his pending release near he slipped a hand between their bodies, his fingers working Buffy’s clit. And she met him thrust for thrust, moaning and sighing and gasping, just as needy to reach climax as he was.

The bed frame hit the wall, the sound a steady staccato that resonated throughout the room, but neither paid it any attention.

Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck and her legs around his waist, pulling him as close to her as possible. She was close, the combination of his talented fingers and heated strokes lifted her to the edge of ecstasy, and it would only be a matter of time before he pushed her over.

Spike was teetering on the brink of orgasm, trying his hardest to hold back as he stroked Buffy frantically.

“Come for me, baby, need to feel you come. Need you to let go,” Spike urged, a cry of pleasure strangled from his lips when he felt her inner muscles fluttering.

It didn’t take much encouragement, he’d already driven her wild with his touch and now his words were pushing her over the edge.

One… two… three…

And then she was falling.

Stars burst behind her eyes as her body quaked with pleasure. It shook her to the core as incoherent noises escaped her lips.

“Oh god! Spike! Uhnnn!”

When Buffy convulsed around him her pussy damn near strangled the life from his cock and triggered his own release. Orgasm washed over him and he emptied himself, crying out her name as he collapsed on top of her, completely spent. Spike buried his face in her neck, whispering words of love against her skin as he rode out the wave.

The room was silent save for their shuddery gasps for breath.


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