Chapter 29, Part 2: Yours
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A/N: I've been posting a lot recently. Please make sure you haven't missed anything before reading this.
A/N #2: Experienced sailors: Please forgive my ignorance. I know nothing about sailing, except what I learned on the internets for this chapter. Of course now I could probably skipper a yawl to Bora Bora and back! Thanks, free Google books!
A/N #3: This is short. Sorry about that. I assure you, however, that there is EVEN MOAR boat porn on the horizon.
He never ceased to surprise her.
From the moment they met, Spike threw her for a loop, and she hadn't been let off the loop-de-loop yet. Sometimes he was at the controls, like when he'd break out an amazing Tantric technique or crash a girl's night out, but more often it was unintentional; as subtle as his choice of shirt, or a rare glimpse into his every day life.
This was one of those glimpses. As they hoisted the sails a few miles from shore, Spike dutifully followed Nigel's orders, treating his butler like a respected friend. Clearly, Spike was confident enough -- and trusted her enough -- to dispense with appearances and drop the Master of Everything act for a day. It was endearing, and sexy, and also... white t-shirt.
Concealing her awe, Buffy did what she could to help, especially after Spike insisted she sit down and 'look pretty'. Only trouble was, Nigel was practically speaking in tongues. Phrases like 'wing the jib', 'port winch' and 'pull it hand tight in the cleat', while mildly amusing, meant pretty much bupkis to her.
"What it how where in the why?" Buffy asked, finding herself holding an important rope. She turned to Spike. "He's just makin' stuff up now, isn't he?"
"Here." With a sly grin, Spike took the rope, stood behind her and said at her ear, "I'll show you a bowline."
Saucily, she quipped, "Right here in front of Nigel?"
"It's a knot, you dirty girl." He inhaled at her hair and looped the rope into said knot, instructing, "The rabbit pops out of the hole, runs around the tree... an' pops back down the hole." He yanked it taut on a ring. "Easy."
Okay, if he silently used that mnemonic device while he tied her up on his plane, she might die from the ironic cuteness. "What kindergarten did you go to? At mine, they stopped at bunny ears."
"I was very advanced." Standing back, he wiped his brow, looked around, and sniffed. "And we're off."
"Oh. Hey." The sails billowed and the boat plowed through the ocean, Nigel at the wheel. Warm wind, salty air, blue water, clear skies... Spike Pratt... Southern California had its perks. "And look, you can totally sail. There is nothing you can't do."
"Lot more to it than knots." Taking her hand, he signaled cryptically to Nigel, sat in a shady nook and pulled her onto his lap. "But I'm learning."
She climbed aboard with a sideways smile. "Your unquenchable thirst for knowledge inspires and frightens me."
"Not knowledge," one arm around her waist, he moved her hair out of her face, traced her clavicle, "Power. Through self-reliance."
"Just in case you suddenly have no choice but to sail to Fiji."
His hand paused at her breast. "Depends what the jury says, I expect."
The jury? Oh, that jury. "You wouldn't run. Would you?"
"No, I wouldn't. ...'Less you came along." He teased a fingertip down her stomach. "Could be fun, sailing the seas with a wanted man? Pirate's life and all that?"
As much as she wanted to avoid the subject of Lindsey or Darla or anything that didn't involve the trajectory of his fingertip, Buffy had to tell him: "He's not pursuing the case."
His reaction was contained, skeptical. "He's not."
Arms around his neck, she shrugged. "He let it go."
"How'd you manage that?"
"I didn't."
"So he dropped it," he processed, searching her eyes. "Just like that."
"Pretty much," she said. "Bottom line, you're free, and I'm here with you." She straightened her posture. "Look how pink and blonde I am!"
Getting the message, he let out a chuckle, and let it go. "Oh, I'm looking, pet. Although..." he traced the inner lines of her triangle top and got all naughty boy again, "Few pink bits I haven't seen just yet."
That little tongue-flick melted her every time. "Oh?"
Slowly, he slid both triangles outward, revealing her nipples. "Ahoy. Hidden treasure."
With flirty lips, she said, "Guess you'll have to plunder me," and he stiffened in his khakis.
"One more," he rasped, hooded eyes falling to her bikini bottoms. "Best for last."
She blushed, glanced toward the wheel.
"Nigel can't see us, and he'd never try."
Buffy moved off of him and slid backward along the settee. He parted her legs, doffed her sandals and kissed her foot before placing it on the ledge beside him.
"Show me," he said.
How did he make her feel bashful and brazen at once? Watching his eyes, she pulled the fabric aside, and gave him a peek. He opened his mouth and did the tongue-flick again.
"That is pink," he said, touching her inner thigh. "Not very blonde, though."
She smirked. "It's not very anything right now."
"There's a little." He licked a line down her leg, starting at her ankle and ending with his nose in that tiny patch of fine brown hair while he plundered her hidden treasure.
Back arching, Buffy held his head and moaned.
With two fingers, he spread her labia apart. Licked right up the center and kissed her clitoris.
"Ohhh..."
Spike opened her wider, using both hands this time, and teased her into a craze. Then, he stuck his tongue inside of her, and flicked.
"Yeah!" She smacked her head on the unforgiving fiberglass behind her. "Ow."
When she opened her eyes, he was above her, cradling her head in his hand. "You all right, love?"
"Fine," she insisted breathlessly, laughing at herself. "That was an 'ow' of shock. I'm good."
"You sure? Don't need ice?"
"No ice," she said, unzipping his pants. "Next part please."
"We could go below, to a cozy bed."
"I like the wind and water thing."
He smiled at her, licking his come-shined lips. "Can I ask you something?"
"Uh-huh."
"Do you always get this wet, this quick?"
Bashful yet brazen, she shook her head. No one, but no one, had ever caused such an outpour.
"Just me?"
"Just you."
Chest puffing up, a hint of a sneer twitching his lips, Spike took off his shirt and balled it under her head. "Better?"
"Better."
Eyes glazed with lust, he nodded. "Gonna plunder your brains out now. D'you mind?"
"Mind?" That was funny.
Spike yanked his pants off, settled between her thighs and slid his erection over her pinkest, wettest crevice.
She loved him in that shirt, but his muscles gliding under his skin, accentuated by sweat and sunshine? Equally arousing.
There was something stuck to his inner arm. "What's...?"
"Nothing," Spike said, and looked down. "Nicotine patch."
She frowned at it, wondering, "'Cause of me?"
"No! It was -- time, to..." He stopped, sighed and relented, "Yeah." He raised his focus to her eyes as he said, "You make me want to last a little longer, that's all. It's... rubbish, I know, but..."
Buffy's heart unexpectedly swelled. Here she thought he'd quit because she complained about the aroma -- but he'd done it to stay alive. For her. One hand on the patch, the other on his face, she whispered, "Thank you."
He tried not to smile. "Look, can we save the precious moments for after I shag you senseless?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Shag away. Who needs brains? I don't."
He laughed, "Now you've done it! Here you are, looking like a fucking birthday cupcake, and I can't violate you."
"But, I wanna be violated," she pouted. "That's why I'm a cupcake."
"But you're so sweet, and funny, and adorable, and..." He looked at her exposed breasts as he said, "sexy, and hot-- It's back."
"Oh," she breathed, thrilled that her nipples had mind-control powers. And that they were demanding quality time with his tongue. "Yay..."
Spike reared back, slipped in, and they groaned together. He pulled her closer by the hips so he could fill her completely, and just held her there a moment, savoring the sensation.
Legs spasming around him, she bowed and flexed, and for no good reason, she laughed.
He looked into her eyes, thrust his hips faster and firmer, and they, like the boat, were off.
Rough sex, smooth sailing. A surprisingly delightful combination.
A/N the 4th: Nigel really can't see and doesn't care. No one else can see them, either. They're way out in the ocean. Ain't nothing goin' on but the sex.
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A NOTE ABOUT PLAGIARISM: Don't do it. Call me crazy, but I don't like finding my hard work pasted into other people's stories. If I find out you've plagiarized me or any other author, I will make sure everyone knows it. If you're not clear on what 'plagiarism' means, the definition is here.