They did this all the time, Riley realised; joked and discussed
something silly in a serious way or flipped it over and did it in
reverse. He couldnât keep up. His Initiative friends joked, but in a
straightforward way; girls, getting drunk, getting laid, and look, they
were back where they started. Work wasnât something that made the list
of things to be funny about, ever, but here was Buffy regaling everyone
with a tale about a vamp sheâd staked who had kept topping her quips
and buying himself five extra minutes of unlife, for all the good it
did him. Tara smiled and Willow laughed and the only one who looked as
confused as he did was Anya, pressed up against Xander, plucking
plaintively at his t shirt as the conversation moved on - Riley wasnât
quite sure how - to the way vampires smelled.
“-always this musty, dusty, smell,” Buffy said. “I could understand it
if theyâd just risen but no, this guy was way past that.”
“We donât all smell!” Spike protested. He stood up and walked over to
Buffy, spreading his arms and raising his eyebrows. “Go on then; have a
niff. If I smell of anything but Gilesâ cheap, own brand shampoo and
stuff, Iâll drink a brandy.”
“Like Iâm getting close enough to you for that!” Buffy scoffed.
Giles rolled his eyes. “It was on special offer and if you must know, I
bought it for you.”
“Rupert, Iâm touched,” Spike said, swinging around and flashing Giles a
smile.
“To stop you using my expensive, imported from England toiletries and
oh my God -” Giles strode over and grabbed Spike by the shoulders,
leaning in and sniffing his hair and neck. “You bloody git! You found
them!”
Spike smiled up into Gilesâ angry face. “Vampire? Highly developed
sense of smell, remember. No place you can hide them, I wonât find
them. In fact, I bet you I could pick each of you out blindfold just
with one good sniff.”
“Prove it,” Xander said immediately. “Put your nose where your mouth is
- okay did that come out sort of gross?”
“Yes, but weâre used to you,” Anya said reassuringly.
Spike reached up and undid Gilesâ tie, sliding it free with a mocking
lift of an eyebrow. “Care to do the honours?”
Giles pushed Spike away and snatched back his tie. “Why not?” he said,
sounding as if he'd prefer to gag or strangle Spike with it. “Sit down.”
Spike sat on the wooden chair Giles used to tie him to, until it became
plain Spike had no interest in running away, and blindfolded Spike with
swift, dexterous fingers and a square knot.
Then, one by one, they walked up to him in silence and Spike unerringly
guessed correctly, pulling the tie from his eyes with a mocking smile
and handing it back to Giles - who took it gingerly, staring down at it
as though he wanted to toss it away but was restrained by the fact that
it was silk, expensive and probably a present from his mother.
The others trickled away after that until Riley was left with Spike as
Buffy and Giles washed up, squabbling cheerfully over who got to dry.
“Well, that was fun,” Spike said softly. “Quite enlightening, donât you
think?”
Riley stared at Spike, lounging on the couch, blue eyes gleaming, legs
spread blatantly, carelessly wide. “I already know about the way you
things can smell stuff. Professor Walsh -”
Spike waved a dismissive hand. “Not talking about that. Talking about
what you all gave away. Letâs see now. Four girls and three men, if
youâre generous and include Harris in with the grown ups. Enough
secrets to make it really interesting.”
Rileyâs jaw set hard. “I donât need to listen to this.”
Spikeâs smile was relaxed and challenging at the same time. “Buffy
smells of sex, smells of hunger. Being with you, itâs like sheâs
getting nibbles and she wants more than that to fill her -”
Riley walked over to Spike and bent over, his hands on either side of
him, their faces close. “Shut. Up.”
“Fine.” Spike shrugged. “Letâs talk about you instead of bandying a
ladyâs name and all that.” His eyes dropped and he glanced up at Riley
through his lashes, faux flirting in a way that made Rileyâs gut clench
with the need to do - something. Grinding his mouth against those
pouting lips until they were swollen and hot seemed to have made it
onto the list beside kick Spike so hard he bounced when he landed.
Riley wasn't sure when that had happened but it bothered him so he
shoved it down deep and buried it. “Want to know what I got from you,
soldier boy?”
Through the open hatch, Buffy and Giles were talking, their backs
turned, but to Riley they were moving in slow motion, their voices
whisper soft, because all that he could hear was Spikeâs voice,
insinuating and gentle, pushing into him, forcing him open and wide.
Spikeâs hand came up and brushed across Rileyâs groin, moving so fast
that Riley might have missed it if he'd blinked at the wrong moment. He
was hard and he knew it and now Spike did too, but it didnât seem
important. Important was what Spike knew and how loud he said it.
“Want to know what you smell like to me?” Spikeâs face went serious,
almost puzzled, as though he knew the answer was correct, because heâd
looked it up at the back of the book, but he didnât have the faintest
idea how or why it was right.
Riley stood up straight, unable to bear being that close to Spike
without touching him - though he still didn't know if he wanted to
punch him or kiss him - and folded his arms across his broad chest in a
security blanket substitute. “Food?” he said, striving for cool sarcasm.
Spike nodded. “All of you do, always, but you, youâve got a label on
you that screams, ‘bite meâ. Iâd be careful about that, in this town,
if I were you.”
Rileyâs lips thinned. Spike couldnât know where heâd been going at
night. “Why?”
Spike stood in a fluid movement and grinned, shedding the air of
solemnity. “Because with you, I really think I could. Any time you feel
like experimenting, just say the word, yeah?”
“And what word would that be?” Riley said, his voice tight and his
heart pounding loud enough to almost drown out Spikeâs answer.
Almost. Because late that night as he came, his body shaking and crying
out for a relief his hand and Buffy's body couldnât give him, all Riley
could hear was Spikeâs voice whispering, “Please...” and his own voice
echoing it.
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