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This is a short update, but I thought it would be nice to get one more in before I went to bed.
Buffy stumbled onto the bus, half asleep, and fell into the first empty chair she came to. Nobody should be awake at 4 in the morning, much less expected to function. THey had to leave Sunnydale no later than 5 in order to reach LA in time to check into their hotel and catch the beginning of the festival.
With half closed eyes, she watched the rest of the sleepy students file onto the bus. Willow flopped into the seat infront of Buffy and nearly immediately started snoring. Buffy didn't want to give into the urge to sleep, however, until she saw Mr. William. He brought up the rear of the long line of students, checking names on his clipboard, pausing occasionally to talk to somebody. He stood at the front of the bus, waiting for everybody to put their bags away and fall into their seats.
The bus driver droned the rules of the ride through the speaker. No food, no drink, don't stand up, don't put things out the window. Pretty standard things they've heard all their lives. The bus lurched to life, and Mr. William put his hand out to steady himself. Mostly asleep, she was fascinated by his every move. Fortunately it was so dark that nobody noticed her staring at him with open-mouthed fascination. He noticed though.
As soon as the bus pulled into the night, Spike sat down on the seat next to her. "You should go back to sleep," he said softly.
"Uh huh."
He glanced around the bus, and in the glare of the passing street lights noted that everybody was pretty much asleep. Taking a measured risk, he pulled her towards him until her head was resting on his shoulder.
"Mmmmm." She burrowed her head against his shoulder, seeking his warmth and the familiar smell of his soap and aftershave. The gentle rocking motion began to lull her to sleep, and his proximity comforted her. She would have drifted off completely, but the bus hit a large pothole that almost sent her flying off her seat.
A groan rippled through the bus, and then everybody settled and returned to their dozing. Everybody except Buffy. The large bump had frightened her, and her heart was racing, her breath coming hard.
"Shhhh," Spike soothed, pushing her back against the seat. "Just relax."
"What was that?"
"Just a pothole."
"Scared me," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder again.
"I'm going to have to move to my own seat soon," he whispered.
She nodded. "Not yet."
Spike liked to hold her, watch her, when she wasn't quite asleep but not quite awake either. She was so peaceful looking, with soft, rounded curves. He shouldn't have even sat down next to her, but it was impossible to resist her when she had the sleepy look in her eyes, just as they drooped shut.
"Do you have a blanket, Pet?"
She silently pulled it from the floor and covered her lap with it. He shifted so his body blocked the view of Buffy, his back the only thing people from the other side of the bus could see. But nobody was looking anyway. With practiced ease, he slid his hand past the waistband of her sweats and came into contact with her wet heat. She shook against his hand, but she didn't make a sound.
He moved slowly and quietly, doing his best to be completely unnoticable. He wanted to wrap her around his body, but settled for letting the soft folds of her skin wrap around his finger. She felt like the finest silk, and he rubbed her clit gently, delighting in the stolen moment that stretched ahead of them.
He strained his ears for any sound, for the slightest indication of someone stirring. It was so dark that he felt relatively safe, and Buffy had sunk low in the seat, effectively hiding herself. To the average student, it just looked as though Mr. William was sitting in his seat, perhaps gazing out the window.
Buffy still wasn't entirely awake, and she drifted in and out of sleep, awash with a gentle bliss that tugged and pulled at her like an ocean current. She just went with it, forgetting herself and her surroundings as the sensations swelled and crested.
The pleasure criss-crossed her dreams, crossing through the realms of fantasy and reality, until she wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep. Her toes curled, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. The first orgasm overtook her slowly, and it felt like honey. She expected him to stop then, but he continued, and she continued to drift.
In her dream, they were in a large, soft bed, with satin sheets and silk pillows. She stretched on it like a goddess, luxorious and sensual. He hovered above her, his smooth skin as soft as the sheet, his muscles a hard and welcome contrast. Delicately, he ran his lips across her pussy, flicking his tongue gently across her clit. His lips moved as he whispered promises and declarations against her skin, tickling her and sending the vibrations through her stomach. In her dream, the second orgasm was rolling and lazy, like a cat sauntering through the yard after a long nap in the afternoon sun.
She drifted deeper and deeper into sleep, until his finger felt more like a distant memory. Still he didn't stop, and she didn't make a sound. She could still feel him, but only vaguely, and the gentle bliss still filled her, but it was subtle and subdued. The bus rocked her body, the road without bumps, the motion smooth. More sighs escaped her lips, slight silent things, the only sound betraying her pleasure.
He watched her, his eyes sparkling. Her face was flushed with the orgasms, her body still pushing and pulsing against his finger, and yet she slept. Her body craved his even when she wasn't aware of it, and he had grown so hard for her that it was even uncomfortable to sit. Spike sat back and closed his eyes, his hand never leaving the area between her legs. In his mind, was knelt before his, her mouth opened wide, her eyes trained on his. He would slide his cock between her lips and down her throat, pushing into her with a wicked rhythm older than time. As the images flew through his mind--the top of her head bobbing up and down, the sight of his come on her face, the mischevious sparkle in her eye when her tongue darts out to sample the top of his head--the harder and faster he touched her. He didn't even realize until she froze, and then bucked against his head, her third orgasm stronger than the first two combined.
He quickly, withough even conscious thought, covered her mouth with his hand, just as a long, shuddering sob of pleasure tried to rip through her throat. It brought her to the brink of waking, but didn't quite push her out of sleep. He allowed her to ride her orgasm out, keeping his hand firmly in place on her mouth, glancing around as much as possible to insure that nobody was awake, watching them.
Finally the shaking subsiding, and she was limp on her chair, her head hanging forward, golden tresses illuminated by the faint moon hiding her slack face. He arranged her sleeping form into a more comfortable position, careful not to wake her. With her head pillowed against the window, and a blanket covering her lap, he placed on soft kiss on her cheek, and then escaped to his own seat.
Buffy stumbled onto the bus, half asleep, and fell into the first empty chair she came to. Nobody should be awake at 4 in the morning, much less expected to function. THey had to leave Sunnydale no later than 5 in order to reach LA in time to check into their hotel and catch the beginning of the festival.
With half closed eyes, she watched the rest of the sleepy students file onto the bus. Willow flopped into the seat infront of Buffy and nearly immediately started snoring. Buffy didn't want to give into the urge to sleep, however, until she saw Mr. William. He brought up the rear of the long line of students, checking names on his clipboard, pausing occasionally to talk to somebody. He stood at the front of the bus, waiting for everybody to put their bags away and fall into their seats.
The bus driver droned the rules of the ride through the speaker. No food, no drink, don't stand up, don't put things out the window. Pretty standard things they've heard all their lives. The bus lurched to life, and Mr. William put his hand out to steady himself. Mostly asleep, she was fascinated by his every move. Fortunately it was so dark that nobody noticed her staring at him with open-mouthed fascination. He noticed though.
As soon as the bus pulled into the night, Spike sat down on the seat next to her. "You should go back to sleep," he said softly.
"Uh huh."
He glanced around the bus, and in the glare of the passing street lights noted that everybody was pretty much asleep. Taking a measured risk, he pulled her towards him until her head was resting on his shoulder.
"Mmmmm." She burrowed her head against his shoulder, seeking his warmth and the familiar smell of his soap and aftershave. The gentle rocking motion began to lull her to sleep, and his proximity comforted her. She would have drifted off completely, but the bus hit a large pothole that almost sent her flying off her seat.
A groan rippled through the bus, and then everybody settled and returned to their dozing. Everybody except Buffy. The large bump had frightened her, and her heart was racing, her breath coming hard.
"Shhhh," Spike soothed, pushing her back against the seat. "Just relax."
"What was that?"
"Just a pothole."
"Scared me," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder again.
"I'm going to have to move to my own seat soon," he whispered.
She nodded. "Not yet."
Spike liked to hold her, watch her, when she wasn't quite asleep but not quite awake either. She was so peaceful looking, with soft, rounded curves. He shouldn't have even sat down next to her, but it was impossible to resist her when she had the sleepy look in her eyes, just as they drooped shut.
"Do you have a blanket, Pet?"
She silently pulled it from the floor and covered her lap with it. He shifted so his body blocked the view of Buffy, his back the only thing people from the other side of the bus could see. But nobody was looking anyway. With practiced ease, he slid his hand past the waistband of her sweats and came into contact with her wet heat. She shook against his hand, but she didn't make a sound.
He moved slowly and quietly, doing his best to be completely unnoticable. He wanted to wrap her around his body, but settled for letting the soft folds of her skin wrap around his finger. She felt like the finest silk, and he rubbed her clit gently, delighting in the stolen moment that stretched ahead of them.
He strained his ears for any sound, for the slightest indication of someone stirring. It was so dark that he felt relatively safe, and Buffy had sunk low in the seat, effectively hiding herself. To the average student, it just looked as though Mr. William was sitting in his seat, perhaps gazing out the window.
Buffy still wasn't entirely awake, and she drifted in and out of sleep, awash with a gentle bliss that tugged and pulled at her like an ocean current. She just went with it, forgetting herself and her surroundings as the sensations swelled and crested.
The pleasure criss-crossed her dreams, crossing through the realms of fantasy and reality, until she wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep. Her toes curled, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. The first orgasm overtook her slowly, and it felt like honey. She expected him to stop then, but he continued, and she continued to drift.
In her dream, they were in a large, soft bed, with satin sheets and silk pillows. She stretched on it like a goddess, luxorious and sensual. He hovered above her, his smooth skin as soft as the sheet, his muscles a hard and welcome contrast. Delicately, he ran his lips across her pussy, flicking his tongue gently across her clit. His lips moved as he whispered promises and declarations against her skin, tickling her and sending the vibrations through her stomach. In her dream, the second orgasm was rolling and lazy, like a cat sauntering through the yard after a long nap in the afternoon sun.
She drifted deeper and deeper into sleep, until his finger felt more like a distant memory. Still he didn't stop, and she didn't make a sound. She could still feel him, but only vaguely, and the gentle bliss still filled her, but it was subtle and subdued. The bus rocked her body, the road without bumps, the motion smooth. More sighs escaped her lips, slight silent things, the only sound betraying her pleasure.
He watched her, his eyes sparkling. Her face was flushed with the orgasms, her body still pushing and pulsing against his finger, and yet she slept. Her body craved his even when she wasn't aware of it, and he had grown so hard for her that it was even uncomfortable to sit. Spike sat back and closed his eyes, his hand never leaving the area between her legs. In his mind, was knelt before his, her mouth opened wide, her eyes trained on his. He would slide his cock between her lips and down her throat, pushing into her with a wicked rhythm older than time. As the images flew through his mind--the top of her head bobbing up and down, the sight of his come on her face, the mischevious sparkle in her eye when her tongue darts out to sample the top of his head--the harder and faster he touched her. He didn't even realize until she froze, and then bucked against his head, her third orgasm stronger than the first two combined.
He quickly, withough even conscious thought, covered her mouth with his hand, just as a long, shuddering sob of pleasure tried to rip through her throat. It brought her to the brink of waking, but didn't quite push her out of sleep. He allowed her to ride her orgasm out, keeping his hand firmly in place on her mouth, glancing around as much as possible to insure that nobody was awake, watching them.
Finally the shaking subsiding, and she was limp on her chair, her head hanging forward, golden tresses illuminated by the faint moon hiding her slack face. He arranged her sleeping form into a more comfortable position, careful not to wake her. With her head pillowed against the window, and a blanket covering her lap, he placed on soft kiss on her cheek, and then escaped to his own seat.
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Rayne
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Ending badly
Shippy
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