Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No profit is gained from my writerly endeavors and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: The song lyrics are from “Danger at My Door” by Mark Chesnutt
Things were better; even she had to admit it. Willow was out of the house. Though Buffy asked her not to go, she was secretly relieved to no longer have to carry the burden of trying to console and treat the ailing witch. Keeping casa Summers afloat and supporting two dependents had placed a heavy strain on her meager wages.
Dawn, on the other hand, was more than satisfied with her departure. Willow’s absence allowed for frequent visits from Tara. She was a calming influence on them both, one that Buffy greatly appreciated. She was always willing to lend a hand when it came to Dawn and loyally offered her tacit support when that frequent haunted look crept into Buffy’s gaze. There had been a few abortive attempts to reconnect with Dawn, but with Tara’s guidance both sisters were growing closer and Dawn’s truancy became less and less acute. Though the malaise of resurrection was still strong, Buffy tried to put up a sturdy front for Dawn. It was still so hard.
Buffy approached the door of the crypt and pushed it open, surprised to see that Spike was not watching TV or lounging in the recliner. A few candles burned; the only sign of life was the music that filtered up from the lower level.
There’s danger at my door and I don’t need no more
Of her danger at my door - all I’ve been livin’ for
Moving silently to the hatch that led downstairs, Buffy made her way to the ladder.
Was for her to love me more than she ever loved anybody before
But she broke my heart oh so many times and I’m trying to fight
My will and send her home tonight
The lyrics swirled around her as she descended into the sanctum of her favorite and most unsettling pastime.
Too many times I’ve chased a false alarm
Too many lonely nights let down my guard
Too many memories make this moment extra special hard
cause all that I can remember is laying there in her arms
When she got to the bottom rung she froze and stared at the scene before her transfixed by its bizarre, yet strangely enticing quality. Spike sat naked at the edge of the bed, his hair mussed, a burning cigarette dangling from his lips as a halo of smoke drifted above his bent head. One leg was curled beneath him, while the other hung just off the floor. Her gaze settled on where his left hand held a disposable orange razor and his right rubbed shaving cream onto his balls and jerked the base of his cock. Buffy audibly gulped. He had yet to acknowledge her as he hummed along to the music crackling from the old transistor radio on his bureau. Dipping the razor into a small water-filled basin beside him, he gave his ball sac a swipe. The movement set the pair of dogtags hanging loosely around his neck swinging.
What the hell…? Okay, this – I don’t know what the hell this is.
Buffy frowned, her brow drawing together as she watched Spike shave his testicles with a steady concentration. He had said nothing, absorbed as he was.
“Spike – what are you doing?”
He glanced up at her, an amused smile tugging on his lips. “What? A bloke can’t tend to his bush now and again?”
She stared dumbly at him as he swished the razor in the water and started shaving the underside of his cock.
What dimension have I walked into here?
Buffy said nothing for a long time. Just stood and watched him. Spike grinned inwardly and peered at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was just too easy. Practically creaming herself already.
“So is this a social call or what?” he asked, glancing up from his work.
“I just got off from my shift.” There was an awkward silence and Spike looked at her expectantly. A hint of egotism and self-satisfaction flickered behind his eyes as he steadily held her gaze, which had averted to his cream-slathered cock.
“I came here.” She watched Spike roll his balls in his hands, pulling at the skin and intermittently squeezing them in a gentle rhythm. He still hadn’t put down the razor.
“Can’t that wait?” she asked with annoyance.
“Well, unless there’s something specific that needs tending to” – Spike looked her up and down lasciviously – “I’ve got some unfinished business I’m wrapping up here.” He gave his cock a few more lazy pulls and continued to tend to his pubes.
Buffy stalked forward and snatched the cig from his lips, stamping it on the floor. A wry smile tickled Spike’s lips as he glanced up at her impatience.
“Get your ass up and come here.”
“Be a mo’, luv –“
But she caught him by the nape of his neck and pushed him roughly onto his back.
“Shut up,” she said, a ghost of a smile forming at the corners of her mouth as her hand slid into the foamy shaving cream.