In Celebration

by Saber ShadowKitten
Nightdreams Alternative 30

Spike planned it down to the tiniest detail. He'd bathed and dressed with help from Dad like normal. He'd made sure the couple-inches of dark, wavy hair that had grown on his head wasn't sticking up every-which-way. Then he'd gotten rid of Dad, who he couldn't seem to remember to ever call Angel, after the dark-haired vampire had changed the sheets for him. He'd lit several vanilla-scented and lavender-scented candles in the bedroom. He'd put a CD in the changer and hit continuous play. He'd even put a little Drakkar on, because it was her favorite scent.

Two months had passed since he'd finally started to walk. Two months of continual work and effort, which had paid off -- even though he still hated therapy and was still on the anti-depression pills. His brain seemed to only be attached to the muscles around his left hip, but that was all he needed to start moving forward.

Spike looked around the bedroom once more. He reached out and smoothed a corner of the partially turned-down sheet, then nodded in satisfaction. Grabbing the handles of his forearm crutches, he slowly made his way to the living room. The metal cuffs that rested on the backs of his forearms helped him to keep his balance, while the padded grips of the handles supported his weight each time he stepped forward. He couldn't bend his knees voluntarily, so he walked stiff-legged.

But he walked.

He heard a key in the door and he inhaled purposely, trying to dispel his nervousness. It had been a long time since he'd last been with anyone intimately and he was afraid. The feelings of fear and inadequacy would have been tenfold if he hadn't been on the medication. Some days were worse than others. The depression would weigh down upon him so much at times, he'd become listless and unresponsive.

Tonight, however, he wasn't going to let his depression interfere. Buffy knew exactly why she was coming over and had told him she'd been the one waiting for him to decide when he was ready to take this step. He hadn't believed her at first. Then she'd kissed him so thoroughly, it had wiped out any doubts he'd had and had given him such a hard on, he couldn't walk again.

"Hi," Buffy said softly upon entering the apartment.

"H-hi," Spike stammered, then growled to himself for doing it. "You look nice."

"Thanks," she replied, smoothing down her light blue slip dress. "You're looking kinda handsome yourself."

"Dad helped," he said quickly. Then he shook his head. "Right, I don't sound like a complete wanker."

Buffy giggled and walked over to him. She ran her hands up the front of his shirt and around his neck. "I got an idea. Why don't we do that conversation thing later?" she suggested.

He smiled, his eyes lighting up. "That's a smashing idea, luv."

"Then why are you still talking?" she teased.

Spike growled playfully at her, then bent his head and caught her mouth up in a kiss. She molded herself to the front of him, and he let go of his nervousness and just felt. She tasted like cinnamon. His tongue swept into the dark recess of her mouth, finding hers and twining them together. Her hands stroked at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

They could have stood there for hours or seconds, he had no way of knowing and he didn't even care. When they did eventually make it back into his bedroom, it was all he could do not to come with the brush of her fingers on his erection, he was so aroused. His clothes ended up on the floor along with hers and he did his little fall backwards onto the bed, which embarrassed him, but she didn't seem to mind.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, then urged her into his lap. Their mouths met again, his hands running over her back and sides, his thumbs brushing over her breasts. He broke away from her mouth to bend his head and lavish her hard nipples with his tongue. She gasped in pleasure, holding the back of his head, pressing him to her as she arched forward. She wiggled on his lap, his shaft rubbing against her dark curls between their bodies.

"I want you," Buffy said in a throaty voice. "Please. I want you so much."

Her words inflamed him and his cock twitched. He pulled her down on top of him as he laid back on the pillows, snaring her mouth with his again. One hand sneaked down between her legs and found her wet with readiness. He curled two fingers up into her hot entry and moved them in and out several times. She mewled into his mouth, rocking her hips onto his digits, her breasts brushing against his chest.

Her hand darted down to grasp his penis and he groaned loudly, breaking the kiss. He stilled his fingers as she stroked him and he hissed when he got too close to coming. Moving both their hands, he positioned his own shaft at her entry and she sunk down onto it, sheathing him in her silken heat.

Spike's eyes rolled up and he whimpered in pleasure, as Buffy gasped and moaned. She slowly began riding him, rising until he almost came out, before impaling herself back down onto him. Her vaginal muscles clamped around him each time she rose and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. It had been too long, she was too hot, too soft, too wonderful.

He grabbed her hips and urged her to go faster. Her nipples were brushing back and forth over his smooth chest and it was driving him wild. "Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy...," he repeated over and over with each rock of her hips, his voice rough with desire. She began raining kisses along his jaw and neck, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back his orgasm.

Then she bit down on the soft skin between his shoulder and neck, and he screamed out her name as he exploded. He held her hips down so she was tight against him, as he spilled himself deep inside her. When he finally stopped shuddering, he pried open his eyes and saw Buffy smiling down at him.

He lifted one hand and ensnared the back of her hair, pulling her mouth down to meet his. He worked his other hand between their bodies and pinched her clit between his thumb and first two fingers. He repeatedly tugged on it, squeezing slightly and releasing the hard button over and over. He felt her inner walls start to quiver around his softening shaft just before she ripped her mouth from his to cry out his name as she climaxed.

Afterwards, she collapsed upon him fully, and he nuzzled his nose against the creamy skin of her neck. He placed a soft kiss over her pulse-point, then sighed contentedly. "I love you, little Buffy," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she said quietly near his ear.


A year later

Spike swung his forearm crutch and smashed it into the vampire's face. Maneuvering himself quickly forward, he used the crutches as supports and shot both his legs up to kick his opponent with the tips of his boots. The other vampire dropped to the ground with the blow and Spike grabbed the stake from the specially-made holster strapped to the side of the crutch and threw it at the downed attacker. The vampire exploded into dust as the wooden stake hit its mark.

"Teach you to call me a gimp," Spike growled at the pile of ashes. With well-practiced ease, he picked up his stake and slipped it back into the holster.

Then he continued on his way.