herself_nyc (herself_nyc) wrote in herself_nyc_fic, @ 2008-02-11 14:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | distance: redacted part |
Fic: DISTANCE (pt 56 of ?) - redacted
This section of the fic has been redacted. I've left it here as an out-take.
Previously
He wriggled. "Gonna let me up?"
"Sorry." She sprang up, even as she realized that he was moving to embrace her; his arms closed on nothing. "I'm sorry."
"No chance of a cuddle?"
She longed for nothing else, but she found herself picking up her robe, shrugging into it. She couldn't look at him. She didn't know what was wrong with her, with him. She went into the bathroom and turned on the taps.
In a wave from one end to the other, the dining hall went silent when he walked intalking, laughing, clatter of cutlery and coffee cups, stopped.
All eyes on him.
And then came the applause, thunderous. A hundred girls on their feet. He glanced aroundthis couldn't be for him. But there was no one else behind him.
From a nearby table, Bakhita swung up, grinning down at him from her great heighthe wouldn't have sworn she hadn't grown a bit since he'd leftspeaking in such rapid idiosyncratic Arabic that he couldn't really understand her, but her white grin and the way she seized his hands and squeezed them made it clear enough.
Mrs Ambler emerged from the kitchen, and seeing him, rushed forward to fold him in her arms.
Then those he knew and a few he didn't flocked forward with hugs, kisses, words of welcome. As if he'd done something for them, as if he'd returned from something heroic. Bakhita said, "Don't crowd him. He needs to breathe."
"He's a vampire, he doesn't," one of the girls replied.
"Never mind that, don't crowd."
"You've learned English," Spike said. "Good on you."
"I have learned all sorts of things. You have been away a long time."
"I have. An' yet seein' you lot again, makes all that time sort of crumple up into a little ball like nothin'."
They all smiled at that, and there was more applause, and more hugs, and he was invited to sit at this table and that and asked whose blood tasted best.
"I mixed it all together," Bakhita said, solemnly missing the joke.
"And lovely it was too. You lot are that sweet an' generous. Never will forget it."
This seemed to please everyone, and the girls returned to their breakfast.
"That was really nice. Everyone is so happy you're home."
He turned; Buffy stood right behind him. With so many slayers all together in one place, he didn't feel her so distinctly. She could steal a little march on him.
She'd put effort into her appearance. He could see right away that this was entirely for him: hair loose and shiny, clothes the sort she knew he liked, a skirt, bare legs in boots, a chiffon blouse with ruffles down the front, sleeveless though the big rooms in the castle were all drafty and cold. She wore scent and and smelled as well of anxious perspiration and low-level arousal, a heady combination for him at any time. Her aroma was redolent of pleading and promises; unlike what she said or did, it couldn't be reticent, couldn't betray her meaning.
He smiled at her.
"They seem to be, yeah." The idea of home, of these people being made happy by him, held no real concreteness for him, but her appearance right now heartened him.
"If you're done here, could I talk to you for a minute?"
A fresh bloom of sweat broke on her as she asked. He followed her out of the dining hall, and into the room opposite, a tall, dark, gloomy reception room lined with musty tapestries and and a couple of big wooden chests, and otherwise empty.
She paced away from him, her arms crossed. Turned, stared up into the dim ceiling, holding her breath.
"Is it true, what you just said in there?"
"Which? That I'll never forget their kindness? Hope I never do."
"No, about the time crumpling up into a ball."
She seemed intensely interested in the answer.
"Sojourned in some bad places. Not for the first time, mind you, nor probably for the last. But now I'm here again, an here's here."
"Here's here."
"Y'know, it's what's vivid, an' matters to me, an' You must know what that's like, you've gone some journeys yourself."
She laughed, a high desperate almost-snarl. "I must know? I know being in heaven and getting pulled back" She stopped. Seeing her brace herself, Spike felt sorry for her. She was trying to do what was more difficult for her than anything, and he couldn't really help her.
He'd feared this wouldn't work, that his return was too late, and he still wasn't really sure. Mostly he felt like Spike, Spike firmly in the saddle, more so since he'd fed and fucked. But the mere thought that this was so hinted that things inside him were out of sync. He couldn't let them be. Couldn't waste time, hers, theirs. He'd never leave her again, but her forever might be short.
Buffy broke out talking at speed, as if she were thinking of that too, the finiteness of them, and had to race to express her fulness.
"I know I betrayed you again, like I always used to do. I messed up your welcome. I didn't just leave you in doubt about it, about meI was actively cold and avoidy and weird. I used you in the old bad way. You're probably thinking I can't be trusted, you're probably thinking I'm just going to hurt you and hurt you, you're probably thinking you should've stayed away and"
"Thinkin' you're all full of feelin' in face of somethin' that could stun a troll, an' you're doin' the best you can."
"No. No. Do not let me off the hook. You're always too easy on me."
He couldn't help smiling. "Am I?"
"Don't pretend it doesn't matter. And don't pretend that a few quarts of slayer blood and a little sleep just fixes everything, undoes everything you went through. Is that what you think I expect? That you just hit the ground running, your old self right away, that you go on missions with me and let me do things to you, like nothing happened?"
He saw it then, how much of the distance was hers. She'd buried and mourned him for a year, lived those months devoid of anticipation or hope. And now he'd come back, unlooked-for, it shook her to her core.
What was so indelible to him, she'd allowed to fade. And she couldn't believe he could be the same. She yearned for that sameness, that man she remembered, and couldn't let herself believe he might be here.
"S'what you've always expected of yourself," he said. The words surprised him, leaping up out of his subconscious. "Take it as a compliment, really, that you're no easier on me than you are on yourself."
Her eyes opened wide, brimming.
"Oh God. Oh God, Spike." She reeled around, pacing in a figure eight, her arms crunched around herself, her boot heels ringing on the boards. "I can't even say I'm sorry, I'm sorry, what does that even mean between us anymore? Every I'm Sorry just tears us up a little more."
"It's how we are. We clash, we pound it out, we can take what we dish out. S'why we're good together, yeah?"
His leniency didn't help her. She stalked up to him. She spluttered, her mouth working, unable to get anything out at all. He reached for her, but she danced back. "SpikeSpikeSpike" Her face worked; he could see the thoughts flitting across, appalling her. She was so frightened. It came off her in waves, she was so terrified of failing, of losing.
"You are me." The words seemed to emerge from some no-man's land. When she heard them, she gasped. Recognition flooded her face, a cloudy light. She groped. "So when I hurt you, it hurts me here." She pressed her hands helplessly to her breast. The corners of her mouth tugged down, a spasm she couldn't control, and she hid her face. "Oh God, I'm so clumsy, and it hurts us so much."
Did she want him to rage at her, to punish her? She'd worked him up into anger a time or two, but he could never resent her for very long. It wasn't in his nature. Especially now. After such long separation. And so soon upon reunion.
As long as he had her attention, some sort of attention, he was all right.
"I know you, Buffy, know you right well. You taught me all your truthtaught me over an' over because I kept goin' out of my mind an' forgetting the lesson. "
She stared at him, blinking stupidly.
"Conned it all though I did, before I had to leave you, an' you bein' a bit scared an' flighty now doesn't rub it out. S'written here," he touched his temple, "an' here." His hand only rested on his heart for a second before she pulled it away to take its place, propelling herself into his arms.
They backed up against one of the chests, where he pulled her into his lap. "Stormy girl. Go on an' cry. Cry it all out, good girl."
"This doesn't solve anything."
"Does it have to? Go on."
He'd been a fool and refused her blood, but there was nourishment in her embrace, in the musk of her tears and excitement; he soaked her up through his skin and all his senses. She wept out her frustration into his neck, and in a little while he felt what else she wanted, what she was too diffident this time to signal, much less take. He slipped a hand up her skirt. She moaned and twisted. No panties, and she was wet; he slid his fingers into her; she moaned louder. When he brought them to her lips, she sucked them in. "Taste yourself. Good girl. Now take me out an' give me a suck."
She hastened to do it, dropping to kneel on the floor. He lay back on his elbows as she attacked his belt and buttons. Her breathing was so loud it echoed in the big empty room. She seized his cock with the same quick confident grip as she used on an axe or stake, possessing what was hers.
When he took her head possessively in his own hands, holding her hair back, slowing her bobbing, she moaned again. "That's it. No rush, Slayer. Want to feel it. Want to see you with your pretty mouth full of my big prick." She trembled, met his eyes with a look of grateful subservience.
He could've gotten lost in this, her eagerness, but this was really for her. So after a couple minutes he pulled her off. "Lie back. Show me your cunny."
Her eyes were glassy, moist lips parted as she hurried into position. "Someone might walk through here."
"Someone might." He knew she hoped someone would. "Will see me giving you a good hard fuck."
"Yes."
She gasped when he slung her legs over his shoulders, let out a long whining cry as he sank into her, setting up a rhythm that was rapid and deep. Her legs flexed tight around his shoulders. He tore her blouseit was a pity to tear it, but she wanted that, wanted him to snap her thin bra off so the elastic would sting as it broke. Her nipples were tight; she mewed and writhed when he pinched them.
"You needed this, yeah? Needed to be turned upside down an' given a good rogerin'. Who d'you belong to, Slayer?"
"You. You! Spike ... oh God. Oh God." She gripped the edges of the chest in whitened straining hands; her head hung off, hair dangling down. "Make me yours. Please!"
With her head thrown back, the whole column of her neck was exposed to his eye. That was what she wanted.
"Please"
She writhed, stirring her hips, nipping seductively with her cunt. He pinched her clit, rode it hard; she was teetering, back arched, heels driving into his back. "Please," she breathed. "Spike, please."
"No. Will have to do a lot more than say pretty-please for that."
Her mouth opened, she heaved, her throat and breasts rolling as she seized up at the peak and fell to her climax. He held himself back, watching her through it, then making sure she was aware they weren't finished yet. She fixed her eyes on his with a slavish concentration.
"Came back for this," he told her. "To fuck you. Your cunny's mine. Bring me off."
It wasn't until they were done that a door opened at the other side of the room; someone ventured a few feet in, noticed them splayed on the chest, let out a strangled meep!, and retreated.
"Give us a kiss now."
Kissing hadn't been part of the little game they'd just played. He lay back, feigning indifference, and let her try different moves on his mouth before joining in, taking her face in his hands. She sighed against his mouth.
"Happier now?" Spike said, giving her a slap on her bottom.
"Yes." She cuddled in close.
"Expect if I do that to you two or three times a day, you'll be quite cured in a coupla weeks."
"We should try it and see."
"Gonna fuck your pussy and make you suck me off in every corner of this old castle."
"Yes," she whispered dreamily into his neck. "Yes, you will."
"An' if you're very very good ...."
"Yes?"
"Well, say no more about that. Don't mean to get your hopes up."
She laughed. Her body was loose and heavy on his. She kissed him some more.
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