So very sorry about the delay in this one. We'll try to be better next time. Hope the wait was worthwhile. ~_^



Tabula Rasa Ad Aeternum
By Kallysten and Kantayra

Chapter Seventeen


"So, right. Patrol. And...demons."

Spike caught her arm before she could walk two steps. "I didn't ask you here to fight demons, and we both bloody well know it," he informed her with an enigmatic smile.

Buffy practically whimpered. Here he was making things not!easy again. Why exactly was she in love with him again?

He took a step closer, and she gasped at the feel of his nearness, at the dark passions in his eyes, at the underlying vulnerability in the curve of his lower lip... Oh yeah. That’s why.

She gulped. "So, yeah," she agreed lamely.

"That's all you've got to say?" he retorted curiously.

She scowled at him. "From what I remember, I was the one who ended the last conversation with the whole 'I'm in love with you' bit. Seems to me the ball's in your court now."

"Then, you still...?" He hated the way his voice shook, at how something so simple could make him feel like such a fool.

"You think I'd lie to you?" She asked softly. "About something as important as that?"

Girl had a point. "No," he agreed.

"So," she concluded, "your move."

"We playing chess?" he quipped. “Black knight getting dangerously close to the white queen.”

Following his own words, he stepped even closer, and there were only inches left between them. Buffy swallowed heavily.

“Knight, huh?” she said to distract herself from how close he was. “Isn’t that the one that never advances straight? Because if it is…”

He barely had to tilt his head, lean toward her just a little, and Buffy closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, soft and strong, hesitant in the first second and then more demanding when she didn’t protest. His tongue gently traced at the seal of her mouth and she instinctively let him in, meeting him with a tentative caress of her own.

It was sweet, short and shattering, and when they separated Buffy looked at him in wonder as she brought her fingers up to touch her still tingling lips. The silence stretched between them, and neither of them moved or broke eye contact.

“Was that… was that your answer?” Buffy finally managed to ask.

A small smirk pulled at his lips. “Might have been. ‘S that the kind of answer you were expecting?”

Part of her was indeed ready to accept this as a proclamation, just as long as he did it again. And again. And never stopped.

But at the same time… words were nice.

And so, “Words are nice,” she informed him.

"Words, huh?" He smirked at her, reaching up to trace the line of her cheek with one finger. "Want me to prove it to you?"

She gasped as he descended again and brushed his lips against hers. He only lingered for a moment, though.

"How's this, then?" He pressed a soft butterfly kiss to her jaw. Everything suddenly seemed so clear to him when they were close like this, their bodies and hearts screaming that they belonged together... "I love you."

Buffy sighed as his lips trailed down her throat, and her hands clutched in his hair, urging him on. "Oh god," she whimpered in pleasure when one large hand found her breast and cupped it tenderly.

"Look at me," he encouraged her, his lips returning to her own.

She hadn't even realized she'd shut her eyes until he mentioned it. Her eyelids felt heavy with desire, but she did as he asked.

"I love you," he repeated more slowly this time, and there was no way to doubt the sincerity in the depths of his eyes.

"I..." she began, but his thumb flicked her nipple through the fabric of her blouse, and the words were lost in a haze of ecstasy. It was all too clear that now that she'd given him a chance to speak, he wasn't about to be interrupted.

"You're all I bloody think about, dream about," he confessed softly, staggering them both backward until her back was against the house. Fevered lips returned to her flesh, and he whispered his love for her between kisses. "You're in my gut...my throat..."

"Don't stop," she pleaded, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she kissed him everywhere she should.

He came up for breath with a startled gasp, his eyes dark with desire. "I'm drowning in you, Buffy." His voice lowered to a breathy whisper. "I'm drowning in you..."

"You're not the only one," she whispered softly.

Their eyes met for a moment, and the kiss that followed was anything but short and sweet. Buffy tasted his moan against her lips, twinned her fingers deep in his hair, and desperately tried to pull him in closer. He growled when her tongue caressed his, and in that moment, her only goal in life was to hear him make that sound as often as possible.

He lifted her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist and ground her back into the wall. She let out a hiss of desire, and he could feel the heat of her sex against him even through their jeans. He'd never been this hard in all his life...er, unlife...and only what he remembered of it...although he couldn't imagine anything turning him this much on even before the parts he remembered, and... Christ, he wasn't just drowning in her; he was drunk.

Buffy felt herself grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen - or maybe it was just the Spike overdose after having been separated from him for far too long - and reluctantly broke away. He whimpered but rested his head against her shoulder, panting as well.

Finally, he chuckled, and she looked down at him. "Convinced?" he teased lightly.

She smiled softly, cupped his face between her hands. "I don't think there's a woman alive who wouldn't be convinced by a speech like that."

He grinned.

“So, what now?” he asked as he bent to kiss her neck again. “Shall we… go back to my crypt…”

He involuntarily gave a small thrust against the apex of her legs – or at least, he would have claimed it was involuntary. The truth was, he just couldn’t get enough of these small gasps he was pulling from her throat.

“… or are we still taking things slow?”

Buffy’s hands clenched on his shoulders at these last words.

“Not sure… that’s still an option,” she murmured. “If we’re getting our memories back in a couple of days…”

She faltered then, unsure how to continue. Spike moved back, just enough so that he could look at her, and she winced at the frown drawn over his brow.

“You think things will change when we get our memories back?” he asked coolly. His hold on her was beginning to loosen, and she tightened hers to prevent him from moving away.

“I don’t know what to think,” she admitted, uncertainty making the words difficult. “From everything we’ve learned about us before we lost our memories, I know you’ll still love me with your memories back. And I… well, maybe if I have new memories of how good we can be together…”

He arched an eyebrow at her, and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Refusing to back up, she added, no louder than a whisper:

“And I just know we’ll be so good together…”

Spike grinned again, his smile utterly predatory.

“Good?” he purred. “Going to be bloody fantastic, you mean.”

And with that, he dove in for her lips, claiming them, and her, once more, until she had lost her breath and her mind. Or almost.

“Not here.” Breaking free from his kiss, she covered the sneaky hand that had started unbuttoning her blouse with her own. “Not… not where anyone could see us,” she added quietly, and he groaned dejectedly.

“God, luv, I’m not sure I can get back to the crypt without self-combusting.”

Buffy smiled to herself. She had the proof of his desire nestled right against her and quite impossible to ignore, but it was still very nice to hear him admit how much he wanted her.

“Who said we needed to get back to the crypt?” she asked seductively. “I’ve got a nice bed myself. Right above us, actually.”

His gaze lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning.

“We’d have to be quiet, though,” she continued.

“Oh, I can be quiet,” he assured her quickly. “The question is, can you?”

Another thrust of his lips predictably caused a gasp to escape her lips; the smugness in the curve of his lips was quite intolerable, and Buffy erased it with a kiss.

Oh, you will pay for this, Mister, she thought. Just wait. You’ll see who won’t be able to be quiet.

Belatedly, she realized that the goal was to be quiet, not the opposite. Maybe going to the crypt wouldn’t have been such a bad idea… except that she couldn’t wait any longer than Spike.

“Room. Bed. Now,” she ordered breathily.

It was a request Spike was more than willing to comply with.

Strange how simple tasks like turning a doorknob became well nigh impossible when he had Buffy in his arms, squirming, and kissing him all over. He let out a little groan of frustration, and she sensed his dilemma, fumbling with the handle herself. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who found this task exceedingly difficult.

The knob finally turned and... "Bugger!" he swore loudly when he collided with the invisible barrier, just as impenetrable as any door, keeping him from her home.

"Mmm! Right!" she winced in memory of why exactly he wasn't invited into her home in the first place. "Come in."

Of course, he was caught unprepared by the instantly dissolving barrier and they burst into the house in sudden victory, the door banging open loudly.

Buffy winced at the loud sound. "Quiet," she murmured against his chest.

He gulped and nodded. "Right. Quiet."

Of course, then she had to undermine that whole bloody resolve by pushing his duster off his shoulders and yanking his tee-shirt up and over his head in one triumphant tug. Those soft lips of hers now pressed against bare, sensitive skin.

As he collapsed back against the door with another (albeit quieter) bang, she found one nipple and kissed it gently. He moaned.

She scowled up at him. "Is there some part of 'quiet' you're having difficulty understanding?" she teased him, eyes wide and innocent.

His own eyes narrowed and darkened, and a low growl rumbled through his chest. "'ll show you how difficult..." he threatened.

She gulped and took a step back. The look in his eyes at that moment was pure sexual predator. Dark and dangerous and... God, she wanted him now...

She let out a little yelp when he pounced, forcing her back against the railing. Her own blouse was disposed of in a manner much rougher than his tee-shirt had been, and she felt obliged to complain until his mouth found the flesh of her breast above the line of her bra and sucked slowly.

"Oh god!" She clung to his hair and whimpered in anticipation when she felt his fingers fumble at the clasp and then finally release it.

"Quiet, pet," he teased, smirking up at her. "Remember?"

She mock-scowled and swatted playfully at his hair.

"Feisty li'l vixen," he purred, tongue curled up wickedly beneath his teeth.

"Feisty little Slayer," she reminded him, "so all vampires better hurry up, or else."

"All you ever had to do was ask, luv," he informed her in a breathy whisper. Then, before she could respond, he caught her up in his arms with a little yelp, leapt over the banister railing and raced upstairs.

She squealed and clung to his neck and realized that, oops, she was kind of really sucking at being quiet. Oh well.

He came to a halt in her bedroom and closed the door behind them without ceremony. "That more to your liking?"

“Points for being quick,” she nodded with a small smile. “But quick isn’t always good…”

Her whisper sounded all prim and proper, but the effect was rather spoiled by one of her hands sliding from his neck and over his chest. Not that Spike was complaining. Far from it, especially when she started flicking his nipple back and forth with her thumb.

The bed was right there, only a couple of feet away, and yet he still wasn’t moving. Just having her in his arms like this, having her touch him was already more than only the previous night he would have believed would ever happen. How far they had gone in a few hours… and how far they were still about to go… Something halfway between a growl and a hum rose from his throat at the thought, and Buffy laughed softly.

“Are you purring?” she asked, looking up at him with a grin. “That’s kind of cu…”

She let out a surprised yelp as, without warning, he moved to the bed and let her fall on it.

“I’m not cute,” he informed her as he caught her feet and proceeded to take off her shoes and socks. “I’m a big bad vampire whose only thought is to devour you.”

The wicked glint in his eyes might have worried Buffy when he attacked her jeans’ fastenings, but the gentleness with which he tugged her pants and underwear off, the soft slide of his fingers on her skin were anything but scary.

It was only after he had stood in front of her, immobile and watching her for a few seconds that Buffy belatedly realized she was completely naked under his gaze. Shreds of modesty set her cheeks on fire and she instinctively brought her hands up to cover herself, but Spike stopped her with a small shake of his head.

“Don’t,” he murmured. “You’re too bloody gorgeous to hide…”

Unable to stand not touching her anymore, Spike lay on the bed next to her, and pressed his lips to hers. When she tried to deepen the kiss however, he allowed his mouth to glide down her throat, nibbling, sucking and kissing along the way. So many treasures to discover, he thought to himself. And already Buffy was shifting under his touch, trying to accentuate the pressure of his mouth and guide him. If that was what she wanted, he would be happy to oblige…

“Where do you want my lips?” he murmured, his words a caress along her collarbone.

She shivered, and involuntarily tightened her hands on his shoulders.

“I… I don’t know,” she stuttered. “I’m sure it’s not my… my first time…” Her voice lowered with each word until she finished on a whisper. “But at the same time, it kinda is, you know?”

He wore an odd smile when he looked up at her.

“I know. And by the same standards, it’d be my first time too.”

"Virgin!Spike?" Buffy whispered softly, intrigued by the idea, her fingers idly tracing his cheek.

He gasped at the gentleness of her touch and rubbed his cheek against her palm. "Might remember a thing or two if properly stimulated." He leered up at her at this last word, letting her know exactly what he meant.

She giggled. She never would've imagined she'd feel this way with a naked Spike on top of her, but she felt almost...relaxed. Comfortable. And, yeah, more than a bit twitchy for something more. "Maybe if you experimented a bit, it would come back to you," she suggested coyly, her fingertips trailing down and over the muscles of one taut forearm.

"Refresh my memory?" He lowered himself so that his lips were only a hair's breadth over hers.

"Y-Yup." Her voice was shaking at his nearness now. Her hand moved up to touch him again, but he caught her wrist - and her other one as well - and pressed them firmly into the pillow above her head.

"Naughty girl," he tisked her lightly. "Tryin' to distract me..."

She practically whimpered when he pulled back and away from her lips, but soon enough he'd moved down her body. His lips weren't cold exactly, but they were still cool. Against her fevered flesh, they felt like ice, but sort of like the ice in that Icy Hot stuff where it froze at first, but the cold turned into an intense burn in no time.

The line of her collarbone seemed to explode with sensation as his lips, and then his tongue, trailed along the edges of her body. Her fingers itched to tangle in his hair and push him lower, but her wrists felt as though they were lead, trapped on the pillow. His sensual promises did more to restrain her than shackles ever could.

Thankfully, he sensed the tension in her and moved lower just when the whimpers in her throat were on the verge of transforming into screams of frustration. Remembering that promise to keep things quiet, no doubt.

She scowled down at him. "I think you remember everything," she accused good-naturedly.

He grinned rakishly up at her and enclosed her right breast with his mouth, his tongue caressing the swollen flesh.

As seconds of toes-curling torment turned into centuries, Buffy became more and more convinced that Spike did know what he was doing – and therefore, remembered. There was no way otherwise to explain how he could play her body so expertly, pulling out soft moans from her as though she were his instrument and he was playing scales.

His tongue twirled. His teeth grazed. His lips caressed. His mouth sucked. And his fingers… Oh God, his fingers… At first they had been running up and down her legs, sending shivers down her spine. But then Spike had slid a hand to the inside of her thighs and stroked there, always higher, and made her arch into his touch until finally – finally – he had run his index along her folds and she had frozen.

Between his mouth on her breast, his fingers now pumping in and out of her, and his thumb pressing rhythmically against her clit, Buffy felt like her body was about to implode and, eyes tightly shut despite herself, she waited for the explosion…

And then Spike stopped.

This time, her moan was one of frustration, there was no doubt about it, and Spike couldn’t help grinning when her eyes opened and shot daggers at him.

“What are you…” she began, but he stopped her quite effectively by licking her slit in one long, slow stroke.

“Want to taste you,” he explained, voice rendered rough by his own desire, and returned to his task. Another swipe of his tongue along her folds left him wondering if even sampling her blood could have been any better. The thought awakened something primal in him and he bent to his task with renewed ardor.

His long strokes gave way to shorter, more pointed ones aimed directly at her tight channel, and she started shaking against him. Tentatively, he flicked her clit with his tongue and watched her body arch. He did it again, and again, sucked at her clit, then alternated, all the while sliding his fingers in and out of her, never taking his eyes of her until pleasure finally overtook her. A quiet, wordless wail escaped her lips and her body went rigid for an instant; he could feel her internal muscles clenching around his fingers, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her and remain there forever.

Seeing her like this, completely taken by the passion he had created, had Spike set a new goal for himself. He was going to make Buffy feel as good as she possibly could. And then he would do it all over again.

As her body slowly slackened, Buffy grinned stupidly at the ceiling above her. Tongue good seemed to be the only two words her mind was able to produce. That, and…

“Spike!”

Her body convulsed as he lapped at her too sensitive folds. She managed to raise her head enough to see his impish grin.

“Come ‘p here,” she begged, wanting to touch him, all of him.

When he didn’t immediately comply with her request, she started protesting, but then she realized that the delay was caused by his struggle to take his too tight jeans off. And all she could think of when he finally climbed on the bed was yum.

"You wanted something, luv?" he teased lightly, crawling up the mattress to her seductively, confident of his body and the power he had over her.

She smiled and kissed him when he was finally close enough, tasted the rough masculine flavor of his lips and musk of her sex on his tongue. She decided then and there that she could get very used to tasting the two of them together.

"Looks like that jogged your memory," she commented lazily, her fingers trailing down his chest, exploring the expanse of bare muscle intently. "Do you think I'd remember just as quickly?"

"'m sure you're- Fuck!" He cried out in sudden pleasure when one of her trailing hands found his erection and she wrapped her fingers around the base.

"Shh," she reminded him, loosening her grip to trail her fingers up and down his length, learning the feel of him. God, he was so beautiful, and knowing that her touch could drive him over the edge so easily...

He hissed, biting back his cries as her hot little hand surrounded him, burning him up. Her free hand twined in his hair, pulling him closer to her. Slowly, naturally, his hands found her body again, caressing a breast here, a thigh there. She moaned, and the pulls on his erection became harder and more persistent. If she kept that up, he was going to explode before the real fun had even started.

With a shaky laugh, he caught her hand in his, guiding it to his hip instead as he rolled them over so that she was beneath him.

"I remembered a bit too well, too?" she teased lightly.

"Mmm...perfectly," he murmured against her lips.

They kissed shortly, sweetly, before Buffy's hands came up to cradle his face, holding him before her so that she could look at him. Memorize this moment, how right it felt to her, how perfect...

His expression sobered when he realized what she was doing. "Buffy-"

"Shh," she cut him off.

"If you're going to regret-"

Her fingertip covered his lips, silencing him. "I'm not going to regret anything. I love you."

He sighed. He didn't want to argue in the first place, really. "I love you, too," he began.

"Then make love to me," she requested softly. "Just..." A little whimper escaped her lips when his cock brushed her inner thigh. "Please..."

The word sent a jolt through Spike’s body and he couldn’t delay any longer. Trembling as he tried not to simply ram into her, he brought his cock to nudge Buffy’s wet folds. Her legs easily slid around his backside and she pushed him forward even as he started moving, ever so slowly entering her, savoring the delightful sensation of her tightness around him. His eyes never left hers, attentive to any hint of pain; all he could see was pleasure taking over her features.

When he was finally sheathed in her, they both let out quiet sighs.

“It’s like you were…” he started.

“Made for me,” she finished.

They shared a smile, a kiss, and together, without needing to speak, as though their bodies remembered something that had never happened, they started dancing. Their hips moved in perfect counterpoint, Buffy’s pulling back as Spike’s cock slid almost all the way out, then rising up as he trust back in again. They kept a slow pace for a few seconds, getting accustomed to the feel of each other.

Then Buffy’s hands cupped Spike’s face again and pulled him down for another kiss. The touch of her tongue against his made him involuntarily jerk forward; Buffy moaned into his mouth. He did it again. And again.

His thrusting was now faster, stronger, and he reveled in the quiet cries he pulled from Buffy’s mouth. He’d never get tired of this, of her hands now clutching at his shoulders, her cunt squeezing him as though she didn’t want to let him go, the feel of her body against his.

With a gasp, he pulled back from her mouth as the first tightening that preceded release tensed through his body. He bit his lower lip to keep from crying aloud - still mindful of their rule to keep this quiet - and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

Below him, Buffy began to make little mewling noises as she rocked her hips up against him with ever-increasing franticness. She felt filled, completed, like he was conquering her from the inside out, or maybe she was the one consuming him.

Or maybe it didn't matter because they were both one being in that moment, and he looked so beautiful, so perfect, above her with his eyes squeezed shut tight in pleasure and that muscle in his jaw ticking with each thrust. A deep, white heat flooded through her belly, shooting streaks of ecstasy, and she reached up for him, pulled his face to her, so that he had to open his eyes, had to show her that overwhelming emotion within, had to...

The sound was almost more intense than the beauty of her writhing beneath him. Not wild screams of passion, but the deep, erratic gasping of breath. He realized that his own lungs were unnecessarily dragging in the air, clinging to some primal instinct of life and desire.

But then she pulled him down to her, and he couldn't help but look into her desire-darkened eyes. Her lips opened as if to speak, but then she cried out instead, softly. He felt her body tighten around him, holding him close, trapping him deep inside. Muscles tensing in little cascades down the entire length of him until he felt the pleasure within him explode.

It was all he could do to capture her lips with his roughly as he came, drowning out his orgasmic cry – and hers – with the taste of her tongue.