Title: Offerings
Author: OneTwoMany
Email: onetwomany@bigpond.com
Summary: The intensity of his love terrifies her. She thinks she doesn't want that kind of responsibility. Knows she doesn't deserve it. Wonders if she has anything to offer in return.
Otherwise known as, "My Contribution to Bub and Ceit's Bitey Fanfic Challenge".
Dedication: To everyone on Fanforum. You guys rock! And especially to BubonicPlague1348, for the confidence-boosting support, and BuffyX, for being a kick-ass beta if ever there was one.
Spoilers: Through Showtime
Rating: I'm somewhat unsure of US ratings, but likely an R all up. This part is PG-13.
Archiving: Want. Take. Have. But I'd love it if you dropped me a line so I can go check you out.
Feedback: Yes please. Email me: Onetwomany@bigpond.com, or feel free to PM me on FF, where I post as 'Sabre'.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and I'm not worth suing.

She's wearing a simple cotton bra and his hands stop when they reach the bindings, determined to explore the small fabric-clad mounts. She arches into him as his thumbs trace her nipples, throwing the shirt away in a complimentary movement. The feel and sight is irresistible, her little breasts thrusting straight into his hands and toward his mouth. He bends down and runs his tongue over one concealed nipple, then across the smooth skin above the fabric, and into the valley between her breast. She shivers under his ministrations and soon her hands are pulling at his own clothing, pushing up his T-shirt and stroking his straining cock through the coarse denim of his now painfully tight jeans.

Spike yields to her desires. Standing quickly, shakily - each moment without her touch sharper and more agonizing that any deliberate torture - he tugs his T-shirt over his head, deposits it on the floor and then tears at the buttons on his jeans. His cock springs free, ready and willing, engorged with borrowed blood, much of it hers. It leaps a little more when Buffy's eyes shoot straight to it. Hastily, Spike pushes his jeans down the rest of the way, only to experiences a moment of sheer embarrassment as he tries to kick the pants' legs off without falling over. If Buffy notices, she lets it slide, her heated, hungry gaze and burning emerald eyes making it clear she's got more important things on her mind than holding this sudden clumsiness against him.

Fully aware of his scrutiny, Buffy kneels up and, after a tortuous moment's pause, slowly slides down the zipper on her skirt, then shimmies out of it in a gracefully appealing maneuver that is testament to the many less obvious uses for Slayer co-ordination.

She's naked before him, and his tears evaporate in the wave of pure animal heat that shoots through his body. Christ she's beautiful, even more so than last year. Small and slender, deceptively fragile, but there is now an added fullness to her form that is deliciously feminine.

"Come here, Spike." She smiles seductively, extending her hand. Spike grabs it, kisses it as fervently as William would have, had William ever gotten within touching distance of a real, live woman. He teases the healing wounds on the delicate inside of her wrist. The blood rushes beneath, thick and rich and tasty, the already intoxicating aroma enhanced by the salty tang of her sweat and the marvelous fragrance of her arousal. The surrounding air is suddenly redolent with the essence of everything Buffy that he thinks he can taste it.

Her small hand twists around his wrist and she pulls him onto the bed with a strength that belies the girlish giggle that escapes her mouth. A rare, vibrant sound, it causes him just as much pleasure as the physical touching. She's laughing, playing with him, and he can feel her body shudder and thrum as she climbs over his, kisses his again with a smile on her mouth. It's never been anything like this before. Never this comfortable, this easy, this free from pretense and... well, friendly.

He feels unbidden tears threaten at the corners of his eyes. Bloody hell, not again. Definitely not now!

Thankfully, the tears are quickly forgotten as she fixes her mouth on his Adam's apple, then nibbles her way over his clavicles and down his pecs. Accomplished at this, she is now. Knows him well enough to know what works, and it fills him with happiness and pride that she remembers so well. He can't help but squirm as her mouth works lower, and he gasps loudly, jerks, and almost comes as she fixes her mouth on his nipple and bites down firmly.

He feels her smile against him as she continues to lick her way down his chest and stomach. Her tongue circles his navel, causing his back to arch involuntarily and his toes to curl. She wiggles against him seductively as she moves lower still, until finally he can feel her warm, wet breath against the head of his dick. A second later, she runs her tongue up his length with absolute precision, leaving a trial of wet heat in her wake.

"Christ!"

She makes that soft, giggly sound again, looks up at him with mischief in her eyes.

"So tense," she murmurs, running her hand down his trembling thigh. "Relax a little, okay?"

"Yeah, relax. With your lips on my sensitive parts? Not bloody likely, Slayer."

"Try."

Her hot mouth descends on him again, licking the head then enveloping him as deeply as possible. Fuck, it's incredible. She's incredible. And she's enjoying this. Enjoyed it before, too, he thinks, but not for the same reason. Not about power this time, no struggle for control. Sharing, exploring, being...and, God, if she keeps this up he's gonna continue the theme of the night and make a real right fool of himself. His body jerks once, violently, in agreement. Gotta stop this now.

"Buffy... stop."

She looked up, eyes filled with uncertainty. "You don't want me to...?"

"Fuck, yeah I do. But it's been a while and... I want to be inside you."

As soon as the words escape his mouth, he realizes his mistake, recalls the memories that line is bound to evoke. Buffy tenses sharply for a moment, and he freezes, bites his lip, watches a succession of emotions rush across her face. There's fear, he recognizes that, feels it shoot from her and slice through him with vicious ease. But it's gone fast, replaced briefly by confusion, then the calm of resignation and, finally, determination.

"Love, give, forgive..." she whispers quietly. Then she opens her eyes, fixes the dark green orbs on him. "...and move on."

She sounds as if she's quoting something; chanting it as a mantra. He's never thought of her as the literary type, not one for books and slabs of text. But she's brilliant at everything she tries, be good with words if she tried. And wherever she picked this up, it suits him well.

She's crawling up his body now. Small, graceful, proudly feline; gold-gleaming hair framing her face as a mane, eyes wide, bright, predatory. It sends a thrill through his body, toes to brows, to know he is claimed by such a majestic creature. He's hers to do what she pleases with; has been for so long now that he's not sure what he did before his world revolved around her sun. Wouldn't want it any other way. She kisses him again, and their tongues gently intertwine as she presses her naked form against him for a long, beautiful moment.

Lips still touching, Spike opens his eyes to find that she is watching him too. It should be weird, this open-eyed kissing, but instead it's richly intimate, sensual, the connection between them almost touchable, enveloping them with it's intensity. She's looking into his soul, baring her own. In that moment he knows that she is his, too.

"I love you so much," he says, the words barely more than a whisper. When their lips finally separate again, Buffy is gasping for air.

The moment is gone, and her gaze drops into hiding beneath her long, dark lashes. "I..." she begins, and he senses the uncertainty.

"Shh...don't. Unless you mean it..."

His heart is crumbling, reality slithering like a cold serpent through his bones. He'd gotten his hopes up too high, when this - to be wanted, needed, cared for and desired - should be more than enough. Reckless, as always. He swallows hard against the sudden wave of something that feels very much like nausea.

But her hand on his cheek, gentle and caressing, settles his nerves and she guides his now blurry gaze back to hers. He is surprised to see that her eyes, too, glisten with unshed tears.

"I do mean it. Or I want to..." Her voice fades off, and she closes her eyes for a moment, blinks away the pooling liquid. When she opens them again, the irises are calm and clear. She beckons between them, runs her other hand down his naked chest.

"This is easy for me, Spike. This, physical, doing stuff. But the other, mushy, gushy stuff? Not so much... Also, I've already out-mushed myself tonight..." She pushes herself up so she's on hands and knees above his stomach, looking down on him, her skin not quite touching his. His erection bobs behind her, not quite within reach.

"Buffy, you don't have to..."

"No, I...I want to." She says the last part determinedly. "I need to." She fixes her intense gaze on him and draws a deep breath. When she speaks, her voice is soft and sweet as honey.

"I love you Spike."

He knows it's the truth. She's not hiding anymore, not acting. It's just her. His Buffy. Looking down at him, completely honest and open. He'd never, in all these years of watching her - stalking her, really - seen her look more beautiful.

He closes his eyes against the rush of pure happiness. Her words are better than anything he's ever experienced, far better than football, or killing a Slayer, or even hours of rutting with Buffy on the floor of that abandoned house. Thanks the Gods for a curse-free soul, 'cause otherwise it'd be gone right now.

Then his eyes fly open as she lowers herself onto his near-forgotten erection, enveloping him slowly, inch by glorious inch, in her amazing heat. The moment is so intense, so right and splendid, that he imagines his soul and demon dancing hand in hand. And then he can think of nothing further as her tight, strong slayer muscles clench around him, and he is lost amidst the swell of overwhelming, incredible, impossible pleasure.

Had she really forgotten how good this feels, the cool, hard length of him pressed into her? They're a perfect fit, always have been, his size filling her to perfection, the borrowed blood inside of him pulsing and pleasuring her in near perfect time to the intense, urgent throbbing in her groin and womb.

As she lowers herself onto him completely, Spike makes a strange sound, somewhere between a whine, a gasp and a cry. Squeezes his eyes shut, and tenses beneath her, the strain throwing every muscle and sinew in his taut, powerful body into sharp relief. She watches his beautiful, dark lashes flutter against his pale cheeks as his hands fall from her legs and bury themselves amongst the sheets, clenching violently.

"You okay?" she asks softly.

"Yeah." His voice is husky and lust laden. He's already over the precipice, holding onto the edge by his fingertips, and Buffy feels a rush of feminine pride that she's had such an intense, profound effect on such a powerful, ancient creature.

Drawing a long, shaky breath, Spike finally opens his eyes and meets her gaze. "You all right?"

"I'm good. Great." She smiles.

"Good."

Yes. Yes, it is.

Slowly, Buffy begins to move. Balancing on her knees, she rises above him, then slides back down, reveling in the rich, indulgent pleasure of being filled, completed. Her hands rest on his chest, fingers running over his hard, brown nipples. He cries and arches and thrusts up eagerly as she rises away from him and repeats the move again, and again.

His gaze is fixed on her, guileless and adoring, the usually cool blue irises almost black with passion, yet glowing with the embers of heat and need and sheer ecstasy. She watches him in turn, vision sweeping over his prone form, entranced by the weaving, luminous patterns of candlelight on his alabaster skin. Every so often the flickering light illuminates the raw pink skin of a healing wound, or the ugly purple patch of bruise, and she's reminded of what he has been through, what he has withstood for her.

So typical of Spike, bravely running barefoot over broken glass and carved crosses, cashing in an intangible glimmer of hope for a nearly impossible love.

Eye's locked, gazes fixed, they rock and thrust rhythmically in an, ancient, intimate dance to which they both know the steps. It's familiar, yet, like their kisses, also very new, different. Slower, more sensual, more intimate. There's no rush to get anywhere, to prove anything. For the first time ever she's doing this for the both of them. For him.

The angle of his cock is perfect, hitting nerves in all the right places, sending rolling waves of pleasure through her body. It's good... wonderful... and she wants more, more, more. She pushes herself down on him harder, then arches and throws her head back as a particularly tantalizing sliver of pleasure runs up her spine and across her thighs. Spike clearly feels it too, and his cock leaps within her.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy..."

Spike raises his hands to tease and caress her breasts, callused fingers kneading soft flesh with potent urgency. Streams of ecstasy shoot from her nipples to her groin, another burst of energy through muscles already quivering, tensing and straining for release. Her inner muscles contract around him, and she grips him and holds him within her for a long moment before gently rising and rocking again.

Spike's trembling escalates into shaking, his movements increasingly jerky, his brow is furrowed in concentration, his cheeks hollow as he sucks in air. He's close, and trying hard to make it last, and the painful-delight is written over his expressive face.

"It's okay Spike, let it happen..."

"Can't... wanna make it good... give you what you deserve..."

"It's already good Spike. So, so good... missed you so much. Whatever you give me... it's enough." Just a little bit longer...

"'s not. Never be enough."

Spike swallows, eyes glazed, and moves his hand from her breast, draws a line down her stomach, and through the damp, springy curls at the juncture of her legs. He finds her clitoris with practiced ease, fingers teasing the bundle of nerves with an urgent, desperate action. Spike moans beneath her, jerks his hips spasmodically and comes with a sudden cry, shooting his load deep within her. She pushes herself into him, grinds against his hand and feels it happen to her, too. Her vision blurs, dull candlelight growing brighter and brighter, consuming everything in a blaze of fire and white as the straining tensions burst and explode within her, and the delectable sensations of orgasm wash over her leaving her shuddering and quivering.

Sighing, she collapses on top of him, rests her forehead against his. His arms settle around her, gently stroking the curve of her back. They're both panting, and she shares his dry, warm breath as she waits for feeling to return to her limbs, and her breathing to slow to something less than hyperventilation.

As the last tingling sensations of climax recede, Buffy finds they're replaced by a new wave of feeling. Something richer, heavier, penetrates her skin and bones, heart and mind. Seeps through every wall and fills every nook and cranny and hidden space.

Oh God, it's love. Real, thick, messy love. Love for Spike like she's never felt before.

"I love you." She says again. It's so easy now, she wonders why it was so hard before.

He opens his eyes and smiles at her. A real, genuine smile that reaches all the way to his eyes, and she wonders if she's ever, ever seen him quite this happy.

"I love you too," he responds simply, pushing a strand of sweat-slicked hair behind her ear.

Buffy smiles right back at him. "Yeah, I know. Really know, Spike. What you feel, everything you've done for me, it's all a little overwhelming sometimes. Honestly, you're a little overwhelming sometimes." She drops her gaze for a moment, then looks back at him through a veil of hair. "And I can be a total bitch. But whatever happens, I need you to know that I do love you Spike. I really, truly do."

There are tears on his cheeks, but he doesn't bother to brush them away. Instead he pulls her damp, still trembling form to him with almost painful intensity.

"You're an incredible, amazing, wonderful woman Buffy Summers. Strong and brave and mad as all hell. Love everything about you, even on your not-so-pleasant days. God, I love you. Love you so, so much."

She kisses his cheek, his chest, then settles herself quietly against him, ear on his silent chest. It's not long until he drifts off to sleep, arms still clutched possessively around her, salty tracks down his cheeks. And then, lying silent next to him, she simply watches him sleep.

Rest Spike. You need it.

She used to always deny it, but she knows now that Spike has loved her for years. Loved her and worshipped her and cared for her with everything he had, no matter how she used and abused him. She's a lot less sure of her own feelings. Thinks sometimes that she loved him last year, when they spent their days in a pantomine of living and their nights sweating from killing and shagging. Or maybe just loved him as best she could, which wasn't much when her heart was nearly frozen. She couldn't really love him, because she couldn't love anyone. But she remembers wondering whether, if she could love him then, could they be happy together?

She smiles, lays a gentle kiss in his chest and curls deeper into his slumbering embrace.

Here's her chance to find out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:


And that concludes Offerings.

Wow. I used to get a bit eye-rolly at fics that ended immediately after a big sex scene. And now I've gone and written one. Go me! I would promise to redeem myself with an epilogue of some kind, but I'm likely to be away from my computer for the next month (argh!) so, folks, this is it for the moment.

My humblest apologies to the (many of you, I know) who wanted more bitey. Somewhere along the time this morphed by a challenge fic into a character piece/romance, and as much as I tried, another bite just didn't seem right in the context of the final chapter. But, as I say, I may yet have an epilogue in which to fix things...

Anyway, big love to my wonderful betas, Planetjess, Hesadevil, BuffyX and mschelleau, without whom this just wouldn't have been possible. And a huge 'thank you' to everyone who took the time to read Offerings, and especially to all the wonderful people who gave me feedback and support. Every single comment was hugely appreciated, and very likely licked.