Title: Touch Me
Author: RavenWolf
Pairing: B/S
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: Not mine. If they were, Spike would be in a Buffy/Angel sandwich instead of being tortured.
Summary: Spike wants to touch himself, but it's so wrong.
He’s hard. Beneath the sheets of his beloved’s bed, clean and bandaged, he’s unbearably aroused. He aches to touch himself, but he won’t. Bad enough that he’s got an erection. He won’t wank off in her bed. It would be so...dirty. Wrong. She’s beautiful and pure and he finds that his shame stems from the fact that something so dirty should never find something so wonderful.
He grits his teeth. It’s wrong. Horribly wrong. He’s sleeping in her bed, and she’s on the floor. She gave up her bed for him. To him. This is no way to repay her.
He rolls over onto his side. The side facing her. He would love to touch her again... But no. He doesn’t deserve it. Fortunately, he knows that now. The spark shows him how. How to hide and how to dissolve and how to feel like shit. And it’s good, because the spark has told him so. She’s told him so. Things belong in the dirt, and he’s a thing. She belongs in the light, and he has no right to drag her down with him.
But he’s so hard. One hand is creeping towards his stiff cock before he remembers. He balls it against his stomach, and then brings it up and bites into it. Not enough to draw blood. Blood is bad also. But enough to remind him that he needs the pain and not the pleasure.
There’s a muffled sound as she rolls over. He freezes. She shouldn’t wake up. She shouldn’t see this.
He remembers now. He remembers her hands, soft for the first time, gentle. Caressing and healing his bruised and bloodied skin. He’d known she would come. She told him that she believed in him. She believed. He wouldn’t let her down.
He hears another noise as she sits up. Oh no. Nonononononononono. He’d disgraced her enough. Defiled her almost to the point of no return. No...In the bathroom. He’d caused her so much pain...He hadn’t cared then, and now he wanted to rip out his own heart in penance. Had tried it, too. But she told him to stop. And so he listened.
“Spike?” He brings his hands to his ears. He can’t stand that name anymore. Not when...not when he’d done the things he’d done to deserve it. “Spike?”
She gets on the bed. A small whimper escapes him. She’s so close that he can breathe in her heat. He could touch her. But he won’t.
“Spike, what’s wrong?” She asks softly, in the honey-and-caramel voice she’d used. Before, when she was cleaning him up. Rescuing him. Carrying him away from danger.
“Nothing...Nothing.” He speaks softly. His own voice would give him away if he let it.
His erection must be painfully obvious underneath the clean cotton sheets that smell sweetly of her. He tries to hide it by scrunching himself up into a ball. But she’s seen it. She has to have seen it.
“Spike...” she reaches a hand out to touch his hair. He flinches, but she doesn’t seem offended. It’s almost as though she understands.
She begins to stroke his hair. Gently. Her fingers catch in his curls and brush against his skin. Soft and tender. So wonderful, to finally feel the touch that he’d always craved. Always. Even when he was human, he’d always wanted to be touched in this way. Like he was loved.
Slowly, he uncurls. His cock bobs at the motion. Her touch is not helping his condition.
His face has been cleaned, but there are still bruises and a few un-bandaged cuts on it. She gently turns him over. She looks into his eyes with sorrow and sadness. And caring. For once, he can believe that she cares for him. Though he doesn’t deserve it, he knows that if anyone could do it, she could.
He opens his mouth to protest. To stop her from making this one huge mistake, but her finger rests on his lips as a sign for silence. He holds himself utterly still as she kisses the wounds on his face. The sensation of her lips is heavenly against his skin.
He arches forward when the unexpected happens. A small hand has crept beneath the covers and found its way to his hard on. She shouldn’t...This shouldn’t...It’s wrong. She’s not supposed to be touching him in that way. Not supposed to care enough.
But she is, and her eyes are glued to his. She begins to stroke him, her warm hands bring pleasure. For him. He knows that it’s for him, because she’s looking at him with such...love, that it must be. She speaks. “It’s okay, William. It’s okay.”
The sound of his name on her lips is enough to make him come.
***
He can’t see at first when he opens his eyes. Blood has run into them, and one is so swollen he can’t see out of it at all. His wrists chafe against the chains that bind him to the wall.
Buffy is there. She kisses him softly, and then pulls away. Her lips are ghostly. She steps back into the cave. “But you don’t deserve that, do you, William? The only kind of touch you deserve is pain.”
From behind her, two of the Bringers appear. When the pain begins again, he prays to remember her touch and the exact sound of her voice when she said that she believed in him.