I'm A Whisper, I'm A Shadow
By Amy
B
Try as she might—and faced with a master vampire full of slayer’s blood and more furious than she’d ever imagined he could be, she was certainly trying her damnedest—Faith couldn’t understand why Spike was making such a huge issue out of her deal with Lindsey. His chip was out, and that was the important thing; surely he could see that. How it had gotten that way—well, that was just business.
Sex for Faith had long been a commodity: a hand job would get you a smoke, a blow job a pack, 5 minutes bent over the nearest table got you your pick of the liquor cabinet, and a couple of hours meant rent was no longer a worry for the month. It was the way of things. Sex got debts paid, got credit extended, got life moving the way life needed to move with a minimum of drama. With Lindsey, the math had been painfully simple; one hour and their debt was paid, Spike’s chip was out, and they were home free—goals accomplished, ready to hit the road again. But the tension in Spike’s jaw, the corded tendons standing out in his throat and the sheer, staggering hurt in his eyes told her that her math should’ve been much more complicated; calculus should’ve been easier than the equations she’d worked. She reached out to touch his shoulder, and he jerked backwards as though he’d been burned, bracing himself against the far end of the dresser as he took a position far away from her. She sighed inwardly, recognizing that, once again, she had colossally fucked up.
“You fucked him, Faith? You fucked him? That slimy, bastard lawyer git? Why? Couldn’t wait one more goddamned day until I got rid of the chip? You needed it that bad?”
“You are way outta line, Blondie. And you don’t know what you’re talking about, so shut the fuck up and listen to me.”
“Oh, I will NOT,” he answered, stalking towards her with pantheric grace, and for the first time Faith found herself actually afraid of him. She knew he wouldn’t kill her, but she’d just lost a healthy amount of blood, and now he had a claim to stake; she might have been a slayer, but defusing a nuclear vamp was a lesson she’d never before felt the need to have learned. She found herself wishing now that she had.
In the space of an instant she found herself pinned to the wall, lean muscle against her front as effective as the plaster behind her at holding her in place. Glacial blue eyes held hers, and a sinister smile crossed his face as he leaned towards her, hovering over her throat before moving until his mouth was inches from hers. “Slayer fear still smells as good as I remember.” His sloe-eyed blink captivated her, and she froze as she felt his hands band around her wrists to bring them up over her head. “Was good of you to shower, love, and get the stench of lawyer off your precious self. Nice of him to let you use his office bath before he kicked you out on your ass,” he murmured snidely, still holding her gaze. “Now you want to explain to me what the bloody… buggering… fuck you thought you were doing by taking that git to bed?”
“I was getting your chip out. You know, like we planned?”
“You screwing somebody else was nowhere in my plans, princess,” he sneered back, squeezing her bruised wrists more tightly, watching dispassionately as she winced and tried to pull away. “Try. Again.”
“I. Was. Getting. Your. Chip. Out. How slow do I need to say it to get it through your head? We didn’t have money before tonight, Spike, and even if I had managed to kill Angel we wouldn’t have made enough from it to pay to get the chip out and have cash for the road. They were going to charge us, Spike, and charge us just about all we were supposed to get—should’ve known they wouldn’t let us walk away with that much free and clear. And as it is, I fucked killing Angel up real good, so now we have the sixty percent we got up front and we aren’t getting the rest. So yeah, I traded what I had. It’s all I’ve ever had that’s been worth anything, so I didn’t exactly hit the floor that Lindsey wanted it. They always offer. And I accepted. So it’s done, and you’re minus one chip, and we’re free and clear to leave this fucking hellhole of a state if you still want to hang in with me, and if we get out of here before Angel and Lindsey and whoever the hell else wants to get in on the fun decides to bring hell down on us. Now can you just let… me… go… please?” Faith ground out, the last word a snarl as she blinked back tears of anger and shame and watched the fury leach from his features.
Spike’s grip on her hands loosened, though he didn’t release them, merely dropped them to her sides and, fighting her initial resistance, linked his fingers with hers. “How many?” he asked quietly, and her eyes widened with alarm as she looked up. “How many of them took advantage of you, Faith?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, fear creeping into her eyes as her mind raced frantically, trying to think of a diversion, an evasion, anything that would get his attention off the current subject.
“It won’t anymore. We’ll make it not matter,” he murmured, brushing his lips gently over hers in the barest imitation of a kiss before increasing the pressure, teasing her lower lip with his tongue as he sought entrance to her mouth.
Faith’s head spun, and she gave in, arching into him as she tightened her grip on his hands. She’d kissed and been kissed before, more times than she liked to think on, really—hell, she and Spike had been sharing heated kisses all week—but there was something about this, something worshipful in Spike’s attentions, that made it impossible for her to remember any of his predecessors or any other contact. At this moment, there was just him, and she was helpless to fight what she was feeling.
“No more of this,” he whispered as he pulled away from her, voice husky with lust and some emotion that neither of them was willing to name. “If you’re with me, wildcat, you’re with me. No one else—not anymore. You’re mine. I know what you did, and I know why, and I’m grateful for it… but no more.”
Spike stepped back and released one of Faith’s hands, loosening his grip on the hand he still held. The implication was clear—this was her out, if she wanted. He wouldn’t demand, didn’t expect—it was up to her. The fact that it was her decision helped her to make up her mind. Slowly, purposefully, with her slightly fearful brown eyes never leaving his anxious blue ones, Faith stepped forward, back into the circle of his arms.
She couldn’t recall how her clothes came off, had even less idea how his joined hers on the floor, but then they were flesh to flesh, together in the small bed, and everything about it felt—not new, exactly, but somehow unfamiliar. The world outside—Angel, Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles and leaving it behind—none of it mattered. Not in the face of his touch, of his kisses. She’d danced this dance many times before, but somehow all of these steps were different. There had been nothing special, nothing sacred, nothing pure... not until him. Not before this.
He seemed determined to show her that sex could be more, more than anything she’d ever experienced or let herself feel. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating, and she wasn’t certain that she could let herself go—not with this level of honesty—but she let herself try. Reminding herself how much she’d wanted him all week, how much she’d longed to have him touch her in this very bed, she gave over to the feeling of his hands on her breasts—teasing her nipple, brushing the inner curve of the rounded flesh with ephemeral caresses before sliding slowly down her abdomen. Her hips arched upwards into him, and she felt the low chuckle he breathed against her neck all the way down her spine as his index finger slid between the soft curls and grazed the sensitive, slick flesh beneath. Her gasp and whimper were rewarded by a teasing nip and suck of the silken flesh of her throat, actions that only served to raise a needy, pleading moan from her. “Feel good, love?” he whispered playfully, tracing a leisurely circle around her clit, teasing her towards the edge.
“You know it does,” she answered, swallowing reflexively and trying to get her breathing back under control. All she knew, all she could think, was that she needed him—desperately, achingly. “Spike…” she gasped, rocking against his hand as he slid two fingers inside her and shifted so that his thumb pressured her just so.
“Let go, wildcat. New beginnings, yeah?” He spoke quietly, his lips the barest fraction of an inch from hers, and she was taken in by his smile in the instant before her eyes drifted closed and she felt herself give over to orgasm. One hand gripped desperately at his wrist, the fingers of the other weaving through his hair as she blindly tugged him towards her, her lips seeking his hungrily.
Her eyes opened languorously, a sated grin curving full lips as they broke apart. He eased his fingers from her, relishing the little regretful sigh that escaped her as he did so, and was surprised when her hand drifted down from his wrist to tangle her fingers with his. She tugged his hand a little insistently, succeeding—with his easily-won cooperation—in positioning him atop her.
“That was…” she started, but the thought trailed off as she struggled anew with breath when she felt the insistent pressure of his cock against her opening.
“Hush now,” he teased, tongue darting out to trace her lips before he caught her lower lip gently between his teeth. “Got more to do than talking, don’t we?”
A slow grin was his reply, deep dimples forming as the sly expression overtook her face. “Damn right we do,” Faith answered huskily, legs rising to wrap around his waist.
“Uh-uh-uh. So impatient. You know, ‘m beginning to think it’s a character flaw,” Spike replied, face deathly serious but his eyes dancing with laughter. “Believe I said I had somethin’ to do,” he added, dropping his head to nip and tease along her jaw, down her throat, teasing the mark he’d left there before continuing down and across her collarbone.
“Don’t let me stop you. Oh God… I should work on patience. You’re absolutely right,” Faith panted as his talented mouth descended lower, briefly teasing each nipple before drifting ever downward.
Spike’s laughter tickled her stomach, and she choked back a suspicious combination of giggle and moan at the first touch of his tongue against her folds. Her hips shot upwards, her fingers rushing to tangle in his hair, and the husky, “Oh merciful fuck,” that accompanied her actions brought a smug smile to his face for a brief instant before he resumed his pleasurable torment.
Faith knew that she was being beyond loud; she dimly heard the pounding on their wall and realized that she’d lost any semblance of restraint before they’d ever hit the bed, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Consideration had never been her strong suit anyway, she thought deliriously. Her hands tightened in Spike’s hair, her legs wrapped around his back as she arched into him, her head tossed restlessly back and forth against the pillow—and still he continued, tongue lashing against hypersensitive flesh before sliding down to enter her, causing a whole new round of curses and praises.
Spike eased his fingers slowly into her once again, his tongue sliding up in a long, languid lick that ended with the flat of it pressed tantalizingly against her clit; he felt the tremors in her walls begin, and closed his lips around the tight little bundle. Curling his fingers upwards and thrusting faster, he nipped her lightly with blunt teeth, fully prepared for the almost crushing pressure of her walls against his fingers and her thighs around his head. He held steady, lapping at her as she bucked and cried out, bringing her down slowly and savoring every moment of her complete loss of control.
This time she avoided his gaze as he moved up her body, her eyes darting everywhere in the room but his face as he held himself over her. He cupped her cheek, and his whispered “Faith” was enough to demand her eye contact as he sheathed himself inside her, gritting his teeth to counteract the effect her heat and tightness were having on his control. “Tell me.” The words were a low murmured command, but they seemed to carry all the weight of a shout in the stillness of the room.
“No one’s… ever…” she gasped, trying to focus on his request as her body was rocked by the sensations he was causing within her.
“Then they were fools.” Words so simply spoken, but they broke down so many walls.
Faith wasn’t sure how she had gotten here, had lost so many of her barriers, had let this vampire inside her guard, had let him become first her friend and now her lover. She was the queen of holding people at arm’s length, of taking from them what she wanted and getting the hell out of dodge. But he was different—everything about this was different in a thousand ways, and she didn’t want to fight it. The world was gone, their problems could wait—in this moment, it was just the two of them. For the first time, it wasn't about interlocking parts interlocking, it wasn't about her pain or somebody else's pleasure. It was about her, about him, about this whatever they were building between them.
She knew that it was different, accepted it, and in that instant, she was beyond terrified. She tossed her head frantically, closed her eyes, suddenly desperate to hide from him. She couldn't bear to look at him like this, not while he was inside her; he all but knew, she’d all but told him, and yet somehow she felt that if he truly saw her like this, it made everything more real, more inescapable. She didn't want to be tainted in his eyes like she had been in every other set that had ever gazed upon her; for the first time in her life, she wanted so much more from a man than a few moments with his body.
Faith felt her panic begin to overtake her; as she lay there, eyes squeezed tightly shut, her mind and her heart raced as she scrambled for a solution. She couldn't come, not like this, but she could fake it; hell, she could win Fort Knox worth of shiny golden prizes for faking it, but she couldn't let herself come with him inside her. It was too much of a risk. He was making all the right moves, ratcheting her desire ever higher, the need nearly driving her out of her mind—but she wouldn't, couldn’t, let herself give over to him. Not like this; not when it could mean the devastation of something she’d just found and was fairly certain that she wanted to keep.
Spike knew the moment he’d lost her to her demons, the moment the anxiety took over from the pleasure and she started to retreat. But he wouldn't have it, wouldn’t let her go—honestly, she should've seen that coming. “Open your eyes, wildcat,” he urged, his hips never slowing, maintaining the same steady rhythm as he watched her shake her head stubbornly, eyes slammed tightly closed. “Faith, open your eyes… please.” The rough edges of his tone were softened by his words, and slowly she blinked her eyes open, hesitant and fearful as she looked up at him. His hands gripped hers, fingers interlaced, held steady upon the pillows as he framed her head with his forearms, forcing her with the sheer nakedness of his gaze to meet his stare. His hips rotated against hers, and she bit her lip as the action worked her clit with a tantalizingly perfect amount of pressure.
Their gasps and groans, the sounds of flesh making contact, were the only sounds in the room for long moments as he watched her, waiting for her guard to slip, waiting for her to trust him again—just a little. The moment some of the fear left her eyes, a moment punctuated by a sharp upward thrust of her hips against him and a tightening of her hands in his, the near-silence was filled with his husky rumble as he smiled, all the while gazing at her, looking further inside her than anyone had ever tried—had ever dared. "We'll make them pay, love. Every fucking one of them who hurt you like this... who left you to burn. Every selfish git who took his pleasure and denied you yours. Every bastard who touched you when he had no right. Those are the ones, my girl. Those are the ones we'll find. Those are the ones who'll die."
Somehow, it was the sweetest thing that had ever been said to her—this threat of murder, of bloody vengeance. Above all else, it was the fact that he saw her, that he knew her, and that he not only wasn’t disgusted with her but wouldn't stand for the pain she herself had borne for far too long. Eyes wide open and holding his gaze, she arched her hips upward one final time, a small smile shaping her lips as she let herself come, as she waited for his mouth to ravage hers again. She knew now—she wasn't alone. Not anymore. He was there—inside her, all around her—and he would stay there. No matter what she’d done, no matter what had been done to her… the world before them was new, was smooth sand on which they could make their own footprints. And as his lips met hers, as their tongues mingled and he spilled himself inside her, she knew—from now on, when she fell, she didn't have to fall alone.