Grosse Pointe Buff

By TalesOfSpike

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy and all the other members of the Sunnydale crowd belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Fox, and so on, and so on. Grosse Point Blank was written by Tom Jankiewicz, D V deVincentis, S K Boatman & the vastly talented John Cusack. It is of course owned by Hollywood pictures and Caravan Pictures and not me. I’m ripping them both off for no profit whatsoever, other than the happies I may get when and if you lovely people review.

Note: Flashbacks are shown in italics

Chapter 14

"I don't know. I've never gone out with a guy that didn't want to sleep with me." Anya said, way too cheerfully for Buffy's taste.

"I didn't say he doesn't want to sleep with me. I said he hasn't put the moves on me. There's a difference."

"And you're sure he isn't gay? I mean there is the thing with the eyeliner and the earring, and he's not into sports..."

"Anya, I'm not an expert on this, but I would say the amount of time he spends with a cushion in his lap, and well, when we dance... I don't think he's gay." Buffy pulled open the freezer door, finding the the ice-cream in about two seconds flat. She put the tub down on the counter in front of Anya and pulled open a drawer to take out two spoons. "It's just like, he's never tried to go beyond the whole kissing, hand-holding thing. I mean with Riley, it was like I was sort of, not fighting him exactly, but he was always trying to see how far he could go..."

"Mmm." Anya sucked at her spoon before continuing. "Well, in my experience, that's normal. So, if you're sure he's not gay... then maybe you should just take the initiative. Just strip off the next time you're in his room. He'll get the picture."

"Anya!" Buffy fish-mouthed several times before she continued. "You are a total tramp. I can't do that. I mean, maybe I'm ready, but I'm ready to be persuaded, or guided or something. I'm not ready to be the one in charge of the ship."

"So just tell him that then."

A clatter from the direction of the front room had Buffy off like a shot. "Dawn, were you listening?"

"No," answered Dawn with a pout as she picked up the stack of magazines she'd knocked off the end table. "I just wanted a snack. I'm allowed to have a snack when I want, and you'd have to be terminally stupid not to know why Spike hasn't put the moves on you."

"Well, just colour me Cleatus, the slack-jawed local. Why don't you enlighten me, Obi-Wan?"

"How long have you been going out with Spike?" Dawn asked.

"Long enough, not that it's any of your business." Buffy retorted.

Dawn gave an exasperated sigh. "Let me put this another way. How long did you go out with Riley?"

"Two and a half years."

"And you split up with him because..."

"None of your business."

"What age do you think I am? You went out with Riley for more than two years and then split up with him because he was trying to pressure you into sleeping with him, and you didn't want to. Spike knows this. You've been seeing Spike about two minutes. Now, can you do the math?"

"You know," answered Anya, pointing toward Dawn with her spoon. "The short, annoying one does have a point. He probably thinks you'll ditch him if he so much as has a wet dream about you."

"Anya, maybe we should continue this conversation in my room."

"What? You said not to mention orgasms in front of her. Okay, well, technically I suppose you can't have a wet dream... well a woman could, I suppose, but we were talking about Spike, so, okay, technically, I suppose it would have to involve orgasms. ...But I didn't say the actual word." Annya's protests faded only slightly as the two older girls retreated upstairs.

"Sure... like I wanted to sort out your lack of sex life, anyway," Dawn shouted at their retreating backs. "And I'm telling mom that you took all the ice-cream, and I didn't get any."

"Whatever," came Buffy's all purpose reply. "And I'll tell her what really happened to her favourite vase."

Buffy pushed closed the door to her room, and then turned the radio on to help deter eavesdroppers. "So, thanks to the troll I share a house with, we've worked out why he hasn't made a move. Now we have to work out what to do about it."

"I told you," answered Anya. "Strip... or I suppose you could talk to him, but I'd go with stripping. I've got this sundress, where if you just nudge the straps off your shoulders, the whole thing falls right off. You can borrow it if you want."

"Anya, I can't just throw myself at him."

"Then, just tell him, but don't keep asking me what you should do, 'cause if you didn't appreciate my advice the first couple of times, you're not suddenly going to think it's wonderful third time round."

~+~

"Spike, I think we need to talk..." Buffy fixed her gaze straight ahead as the DeSoto pulled away, after dropping off Xander and Faith.

"Okay, love... Is this a back porch talk, a my room with the door locked talk, or a Kingman's Bluff talk?"

"I don't know... Maybe your room, with an option to change venue later?"

"My place it is." Spike looked over to where Buffy was sitting rigidly in her seat. "Look, pet. Whatever it is, it isn't going to change the way I feel about you. You can tell me anything you want. I'm not going to judge you, or anything..."

"I know that. It's just... You'll see."

The old car pulled up at the rear of the house, and Spike took Buffy's hand as they headed toward the back door. He paused at the fridge to pull out a couple of bottles of beer, before continuing through the lounge toward the front of the house. He knocked and pushed open the door to his father's study, unsurprised, since he hadn't seen her in the lounge, to find his mother sitting behind the desk. "Hey. Just to let you know we're here."

At his side, Buffy blushed slightly, giving Dru an embarrassed wave. "Hi, Mrs Blank."

"Hello, dears."

Spike held up the hand in which he held the beers. "I've raided Dad's stash, but there's still four left. He won't mind, will he?"

"As long as you're not driving later..."

"No, mum... Look, we've got some stuff we need to talk about, so don't wait dinner. We'll get pizza or something later, if we need to, okay?"

"Okay, pet. See you later."

Buffy couldn't resist rising to the bait, as they walked upstairs. "I can't believe your mom and dad just let you drink when you like."

"They don't. They just don't get all uptight about it like you Yanks do. They let me drink beer or an odd glass of wine, in the house. If we were still in England, I could be drinking perfectly legally. So what's the point making it into some big issue."

"Even in England, you have to be eighteen. I'm not stupid."

"Eighteen to drink in a bar or buy alcohol at an off-licence. Sixteen to order alcohol with a meal in a licensed restaurant."

"You're joking."

"Why? It makes more sense than having to wait till you're twenty-one. I mean in some states you could be married and have four kids before your old enough to have a drink. And one beer isn't going to do anything except take the edge off that big bundle of anxiety that you seem to be carrying around."

"I don't drink. I'm way too young."

"You're two months younger than me, and you've got at least one parental unit that isn't going to go nuts about a seventeen year old having one beer. Not that they'll even know." Spike pushed open the door to his room and stepped back to let Buffy through. Buffy hovered uncertainly in the open area to one side of the bed.

"If it helps, once I've put on some music, I plan on lounging around on the bed. That leaves you either the chair by the desk, the beanbags, which I don't recommend or the other half of the bed."

Buffy kicked off her shoes, before scrambling onto the high, metal-framed bed, which, though it had a new mattress, she knew had once belonged to Dru's mother, and was one of the few things the family had shipped out from England. Spike closed the door and turned the key to lock them in before crossing over to the music centre. Sensing a compromise was called for, he put on a compilation tape he'd made up for Buffy, rather than any of his punk albums. Chrissie Hind's hoarse tones banished the stillness from the room. Spike pulled a Swiss Army knife from a desk drawer and made quick work of opening the beers. He passed one to Buffy before he walked round to the far side of the bed and kicked his boots off, his socks rapidly following them to the floor. He lay down on his side with one hand propping up his head, so that he faced Buffy.

"Time for show and tell, pet."

"What?" Buffy half-jumped to a seated position.

"Christ, pet, I just meant time for you to tell me what's wrong with you. The door's locked to keep people out, not you in, but if you'd rather, I can open it. You know I wouldn't lay a finger on you that you didn't want." Spike's fingers gripped gently on Buffy's upper arm as his eyes searched her face. "You do know that, don't you? You know I'd-"

"Shh." Buffy stilled Spike's protestations by the simple expedient of a kiss. "I know, believe me, I know," she answered. "You just hit a little close to home. Well, it's kinda embarrassing to actually say this out loud. Okay." Buffy took a long swig from her beer bottle. "I've thought about this a lot, and I think, maybe when two people feel about each other...well...it's sort of..." Buffy took another long drink.

"Buffy, are you...?"

"Am I saying what you think I'm saying? I think so."

"I was actually going to go with are you sure." Spike managed a wry smile.

"Well, I'm kinda nervous, but like I didn't quite say, I think there comes a point where it becomes inevitable, and I'm thinking we kinda passed that point a couple of months back. I really love you, you know."

"I know that, sweetness. You don't have to do anything to prove that to me." He pressed a finger to her lips to still her protest. "But, if you've thought this through and you're sure you're doing this because you want to, then I'm more than willing. And in case you're wondering, I love you, too."

"So, where do we go from here?" Buffy asked.

"Trust me?"

Buffy threw him an exasperated look. "Well, duh."

"Okay, Alright, I suppose I asked for that one," Spike responded with a wry grin. "Look, there's one ground rule, whatever happens, wherever we go with this, and that's what you say goes. If you want to stop, then you say, and we stop. If you want to slow down, then you say, and we slow down. You have the power. You're in charge. Okay?" Spike placed a gentle kiss on her lips before he pulled back to let her answer.

"I kind of hoped you'd be in charge."

"We'll see..." Spike put down his beer on the bedside cabinet and rolled off the bed. He pulled the curtains across the window at his side of the room and walked round the bed to get the ones at the other side. Buffy watched, her mouth suddenly dry with anticipation. She strained to watch him in the sudden semi-darkness, her nerves taut now that they were committed to each other. He snapped the switch on the desk lamp and the one on the lamp at his side of the bed, giving them enough light to see each other clearly, without the glare of the room's main light.

He sat back down on one side of the bed and pulled his t-shirt off, before he swung his legs up and lay back against the pillows. His heart was pounding in his chest at the prospect of what was to come, but he willed himself to appear calm as he held an arm out toward Buffy.

"Should I?" Buffy looked down at her top, even as she moved into his arms.

"Shh, love," Spike soothed as his arms closed around her back. "It's up to you. There's no right time or wrong time. Just stick with what you feel comfortable with. To be cliched, it's not about how far we go, it's about the journey." He bent his neck to bring his lips to hers, gently at first. Soon her lips parted, and his tongue brushed against hers. He found himself making a conscious effort to hold back so that they wouldn't be swept away too quickly for Buffy to come to terms with. He could feel the hardened nubs of her nipples through the soft cotton that brushed his bare chest as they moved. His hands moved to caress the firm mounds, his thumbs brushing against the tender buds through the thin fabric. His touch made Buffy arch against him, gasping for air as if she were drowning. One hand slid beneath the bottom edge of her camisole, the light touch of skin against skin making her crave more. Before his hand could travel back up to her breast, she pulled back, just long enough to grasp the lower edges of her top pulling it over her head and throwing it into a corner of the room.

Somehow, they were kneeling on the bed, bare torso to bare torso, and the only things in Spike's world were the feel of her lips on his, and the way her breasts felt pressed tight against his chest. One of his hands moved down to the curve of her ass, cupping the flesh there until they were pelvis to pelvis.

Somewhere in a distant corner of her mind, Buffy marvelled at how brazenly she was responding to Spike's touch. Yet, this part of her was quickly stilled because she knew that what she'd said earlier was true. It was inevitable that she and Spike would be together. Trying to stop it now would be like trying to stop the wind from blowing or the sun from shining. All she could do was let herself be borne along by the flow.

Spike pulled a couple of pillows from the top of the bed and placed them so that they would cushion her butt. He laid her gently back as his lips started to trail lower, first to her jawbone and then exploring the hollows of her neck. Buffy made a mewling sound, frustrated at his lips leaving hers, but also enjoying the sensations his lips aroused elsewhere on her body. The fingers of her right hand laced through the short curls at the back of his neck, and when his lips teased her taut nipple, causing her to moan and arch against him, her hand pressed him more firmly against her breast. Spike revelled in her responsiveness, alternating between using his mouth and his hands, first suckling at her breasts or nipping playfully at them, then rolling the hard tip between his fingers.

Just as he was preparing to move lower, Buffy decided to retake the initiative. Spike was still kneeling between her legs, so Buffy found it easy to straddle his lap, reclaiming his lips with her own, while her hands imitated the movements his had made on her own chest, first gently brushing against him with the pads of her thumb until his nipples stood erect, and then teasing the hard buds between thumb and forefinger. It was almost more than Spike could bear. As she moved, Buffy ground her heat against his crotch, and Spike was all too conscious that all that separated them, was his jeans and her panties. His fingers searched at her waist for the fastening to her skirt, and finding only elastic, he pulled it off over her head. Buffy couldn't resist watching his face as his eyes scanned the bare flesh in front of him. The emotions that were apparent there, were almost indefinable; they were so many and so tangled together, but the one thing that shone through all the others was love.

He tipped her back again so she lay against the cushions, and this time he edged away from her so that he could guide her panties down as he backed away. To make it easier, Buffy brought up her knees and then her feet, so that the slip of white lace dropped gracefully from one ankle. When Spike moved to part her knees, however, her awkwardness made a return.

"Spike, please."

Spike moved up the bed until they were again at eye-level. "Too fast?" he asked.

"No, not really. It's just embarrassing."

Spike took her hands in his. "Please, love, just trust me a little more," he asked.

Buffy's eyes met his, and then she gave a gentle nod. Spike kissed her gently before he slid down the bed until he again knelt between her knees. This time when he pushed them apart Buffy let him, but he could feel the tension in her body at allowing him to be this intimate. First, he let his tongue trace around the outside of her sex, and then he opened her outer lips with one slow tantalising stroke. When he neared the front he found the tiny nub of nerves and circled round it with his tongue before suckling on it. Buffy bucked and writhed beneath him, and he had to hold her hips with his hands so that he didn't lose control of his actions. Slowly he began to build a rhythm into his actions, using long, sure strokes, each one ending with his tongue rasping over or swirling round her clit. Occasionally, he would suckle gently on it, this last, eliciting the loudest response from Buffy.

"Oh God, Oh Spike. There. Right there. Oh God." Buffy couldn't believe that the hoarse, monosyllabic voice was her own; the breath for each exhortation drawn in as a ragged gasp. She felt the sensations build in the pit of her stomach and knew she was close to a climax the like of which she'd never come near on her own. Spike began to use the fingers of one hand, thrusting into her in time to the lapping of his tongue, with first one gently curved finger, and then two, taking care never to push too far. Finally, he sucked fiercely at her clit while his fingers pistonned in and out of her until they were soaked with a warm gush, and Buffy fell back limp against the mattress, calling his name one last time. Spike moved to lap up the precious spendings that began to trickle from her, but Buffy twined her fingers in his hair, pulling him back up the bed where she could wrap her arms around him. He wiped his lips against the back of his hand before he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. Unexpectedly, she found the sensation quite erotic, and she began to wonder what Spike would taste like in her mouth, the salt sweat on his skin and the new flavour of his cum.

It was around this time that she realised that while she lay naked, Spike hadn't even taken off his jeans. She tugged impatiently at his belt loops in a silent protest. Spike dropped a butterfly kiss onto the tip of her nose before rolling to one side to lie next to her and remove the offending article of clothing. Buffy made a silent wager with herself in favour of boxers rather than briefs, and was slightly shocked to find that the real answer was neither. She allowed her eyes to be drawn to his dick, mentally comparing its length and girth to the two fingers that Spike had used earlier, and discovering that she wasn't sure she wanted to do the math. Her hand moved to follow the path her eyes had taken, and Spike leant back on his elbows to allow her free rein to explore. The pads of her fingers traced a feather-light trail along the sensitive skin of the underside of his dick, and she started when it twitched beneath her touch.

"Soft. The skin, I mean."

Spike confirmed her observation with a single nod. Still intrigued by this new toy, she shifted to straddled Spike's thighs, allowing her better access. Her eyes flicked to Spike's face to see his reaction to her curiosity, but he only gave her an encouraging smile.

"No right or wrong, pet. Just what you want."

Buffy circled his girth near the top, with the fingers of one hand, pulling back just tight enough and hard enough to expose the livid purple glans, making the overall shape look more like she'd expected. The shape she'd seen in graffitti and health classes. A pearl of pre-cum formed at the slit in the top, and she grasped him firmly, as if she were holding a computer joystick and used her thumb to spiral out spreading the lubricant all over the tip.

Spike drew in a ragged breath, counting backwards from a hundred in his head, to try to keep from spurting all over Buffy's hand. Still maintaining her grip, her thumb almost absently spreading more and more lubricant over the sensitive head, Buffy leant forward to claim Spike's lips with her own. Spike almost failed to contain himself when he realised her new position meant that he could feel her lips brushing against him, making him wet.

"Buffy, in the top drawer of the bedside cabinet-"

"It's okay, Spike. I'm on the pill. I want to feel you inside me, not some piece of rubber."

Spike slipped his hand between their bodies again. He gently parted her lips once more, this time using the heel of his hand to press up in small circles against her pelvic bone, while the tip of his index finger circled round and round the entrance to her warm wet channel. Knowing, without words, that this was his way of asking her permission, Buffy released her hold on him. She leant forward to kiss him again, but this time, she gripped his shoulders so that when she rolled back onto her back, she drew him with her. The kiss only ended when they were both gasping for breath. Spike's eyes roved Buffy's face, looking for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. He watched her reactions as he slid first one finger, followed by two then finally three fingers inside her, this time keeping the pace slow and steady. Her eyes widened at each additional digit and she gave an almost inaudible gasp. Then, he pulled his hand away, positioning his dick against her warm wet flesh.

His eyes locked with hers. "Sure?"

Buffy nodded, waiting for him to ease his way in. Instead, Spike thrust into her as hard and fast as he could, coming to a halt only when he was buried deep within her. Tears leaked from the corners of Buffy's eyes at the sudden pain, but even as Spike wiped them away, the ache began to fade leaving only the slight discomfort of muscles suddenly stretched to accomodate his girth.

"I'm sorry, love. That should be the worst bit." As he continued to make whispered reassurances, his hands stroked her face and her hair, and he began to slowly rock his hips, letting the gentle friction ease away the pain. Buffy didn't hear half the words Spike said to her, just the loving, apologetic tone that he used. The rest of her attention was consumed by the sensations caused by Spike's movement within her. At first it was just like a soft ripple, as though his dick was moving inside her, but the skin encasing it wasn't. Then, she could feel him sliding in and out of her, both of them slick with her cum, and it felt good. Without conscious thought, she began to lift her hips to meet his every thrust.

Spike let the momentum build between them, giving a little grind as he pushed deep within her, pressing her clit between their pelvic bones to give her the friction she needed. He shifted so that they each had one leg between their partner's, changing the angle of penetration just enough to make Buffy gasp as each thrust seemed to drive the air from her lungs. The old bedframe began to squeak in protest at their movements, but by this point neither of them cared. Buffy could feel the tension in her stomach spiralling toward orgasm, and Spike was just doing everything he could to hold off his own. Just when he thought he wasn't going to be able to hold out any longer, he felt her muscles cinch tight around him. Two more thrusts, and he let his seed spill deep inside her, the last flutterings of her inner muscles sending tremors through them both.

Spike stayed propped up on his elbows, above her and inside her still, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, he held her gaze, using his eyes as well as his lips to tell her, "I love you."

Buffy smiled back up at him, not a grin, but a soft contented smile. "I love you, too."

end of chapter 14

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