Title: Blue Eyed Devil Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters belong to me. Feedback: Love some, thanks! Rating: Up to NC-17 Summary: AU. Spike Devlin is the lead singer for the band 'Blue Eyed Devil'. Buffy Summers is the local preschool teacher he falls in love with shortly before leaving for a nationwide tour. Part thirty-eight... Parking Buffy once again in the small, private room where they'd had their earlier tryst, Devlin planted a hard kiss on her mouth and left to take a quick shower in the executive suite set aside for the band to use during breaks in their performance. The rest of 'Blue Eyed Devil' were making their presence known at a backstage party, the noise of which she could hear clear on the other side of the building. Spike had offered to take her there to wait, but Buffy had no desire to get involved in any kind of social situation that involved anyone but the two of them. Still it was difficult to stay in that room, remembering what they had done there, and not turn a thousand different shades of red. She was thumbing through a two year old copy of Architectural Digest when he came back. Smiling, she looked up and the magazine hit the floor with a loud 'thwack'. "Ready to go, love?" Buffy felt herself staring like a star struck teenage girl. Sexy was Spike Devlin's middle name, but he had some- how managed to push that particular bar to an all new level. His damp hair was slicked back neatly, his skin freshly washed of the perspiration he had worked up performing. As he always did directly after coming offstage, he still retained a lot of the kinetic energy and driving force that came to him so effortlessly in front of an audience. In fact, he was practically humming with it. He stood before her now in a clean pair of black denim trousers, a black button down shirt...half unbuttoned...the scuffed and well worn boots that he was so attached to, and an ankle length coat fashioned of soft, black leather. Although his entire appearance radiated a sexual aura that could cut through the fog over San Francisco Bay, it was the coat that was really doing things to Buffy's central nervous system. If there'd ever been an article of clothing more made for a certain person to wear, more perfectly suited for just him, she couldn't begin to imagine what it could be. "What are you staring at?" he asked, amusement laced through his voice. Once upon a time, that question would have made her blush and stammer. Being caught blatantly gaping at a man wasn't something she was accustomed to. However, that was the 'old' Buffy, the virginal, 'prim and proper' Miss Summers. The one who HADN'T been romanced right off her feet by a rock singing sex god who touched every part of her in a different way; body, heart, and soul. The 'new' Buffy, no longer a virgin in any sense of the word, was beginning to take over the wheel for a bit. "Was I staring?" she asked, widening her eyes. "I didn't mean to. It's just that...I was sitting waiting here for my boyfriend to come back. You may have passed him in the corridor...about your height, holes in the knees of his jeans, sweaty t-shirt with a soccer team logo half scratched off?" Devlin's grin widened. "That git? Yeah, I saw him. What's he doing leaving a juicy little thing like you all on her own here, the stupid prat." "That's a very good question," Buffy said, sighing deeply. "He lured me to San Francisco, made me all sorts of seductive promises to get me here, and it's been nothing but ho-hum ever since. Well," she added, "except for intermission. That was...very nice." "Very nice?" Devlin arched his brow. "That the best that tosser can do for you? Very nice?" "He's usually....what? What's a tosser?" Devlin walked toward her in measured paces. "A tosser is what your boyfriend is going to be tonight. Because YOU are coming with ME." "And just why would I do something like that, handsome stranger?" "Because I can do much better for you than 'very nice'." He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I can show you this town in style. Treat you like the princess you are." Buffy's heart sped up as he pressed a heated kiss to the palm of her hand, without once breaking eye contact. "That...that sounds like fun," she managed to say. Devlin took her other hand and gave it the same treat- ment. "It will be." ************************************************** Still hanging onto his hand, Buffy followed Spike through the twist and turns of the hallways and out through a rear exit door, cleverly avoiding the crowd clamoring for his attention. Parked at the curb was a low slung, hideously expen- sive looking sports car, the kind manufactured in Italy. Much to Buffy's surprise, Devlin produced a key and unlocked it. After making sure her seat belt was fastened, he came around the front and climbed into the passenger seat. Buffy was marveling over the plush interior and the dashboard that looked like something you'd see launching space shuttles at Cape Kennedy. "This is a really nice car." Devlin started the engine and grinned at her. "Well, it's cold outside at night. I couldn't drag you all over San Francisco on the back of my motorcycle," he said, pulling out into traffic. "And you bought a car just for me? That's sweet." "No, I borrowed a car just for you." "Who from?" "I'm not sure. Our manager arranged it." Settling back into plush leather, Buffy ran her fingers over the walnut paneled dash. "I'm sure having my share of 'first times' with you." "Yeah?" "First time on an airplane. First time in a....a..." "Maserati," he supplied helpfully. "Thank you. First trip to San Francisco. First time backstage at a rock concert. First time riding on a motorcycle.." "Aren't you forgetting something?" He gave her a sidelong look. "Your biggest 'first time' with me?" Against her will, her cheeks turned pink. "So how much do cars like this go for?" she asked, neatly changing the subject. "Close to a quarter of a million." Buffy's jaw sagged. She'd been thinking maybe sixty or seventy thousand, tops. "A quarter of a million dollars?" "That's right." "And....and someone just let you take it?" "I'm very responsible." Yes, he WAS a good driver. She remembered that from the time he drove her car. He was actually a better driver than she was, since she tended to creep over the speed limit and never missed an opportunity to hit a speed bump or pothole while going too fast. "Be careful," she mumbled under her breath when another car got a little too close. "Don't worry, love. This isn't a 'you break it-you buy it' sort of deal. It's heavily insured." "Still....be careful." ************************************************** He took her to the Beach Chalet Restaurant in Golden Gate Park for a late dinner. The crowd was light and they were given a table with a spectacular view of the bay and the ocean. Sitting close together in a booth, he hand fed her Butter- milk Fried Calamari, and chunks of warm sourdough bread spread with a sweet butter. For the main course, he ordered a grilled New York Steak with a red wine sauce and the most enormous baked potato Buffy had ever seen. She opted for the Dungeness Crab Stuffed Rainbow Trout, served in white wine butter sauce on a bed of wild rice. They shared bites of each others dinners as Spike kept her amused by telling her stories about Andy and Xander's constant bickering on the trip north. Dessert consisted of a house specialty...The Beach Chalet Chocolate Sandcastle...an intense chocolate torte, with chocolate shortbread cookies, peanuts, and warm chocolate and caramel sauces, cut into shapes and assembled into a replica of a sandcastle. After dinner, he gave her a quick tour of the city, promising to take her out for a longer one the following afternoon before the concert. He drove her back and forth across the Golden Gate Bridge, showed her the view of the Coit Tower from Washington Square, and pointed out Alcatraz Island. They drove slowly through Chinatown and passed by Ghiradelli Square, where the air was heavily scented with the aroma of warm chocolate. When he noticed that she was starting to look sleepy, he turned the car around and headed for the hotel. ************************************************** "Are you tired, love? Want to go to sleep?" Buffy leaned against him, watching the floor numbers flash. "I can sleep at home," she said. "How often do I get a chance to be with you in a luxury hotel suite in San Francisco?" He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "We'll come back sometime, I promise. Spend a lot of time and really do it up right. That sound good?" It sounded like the promise of a future. It sounded very good to her. Dropping her handbag on the sofa, she toed her shoes off. "Hey, how come you got this suite all to yourself?" she asked. "Are you that big a star already?" He chuckled, emptying his pockets out onto the bar. "Not hardly. Two suites came with the deal. I got this one and the guys are sharing the other." "Why? No, don't tell me...because it's your band." "Smart-arse," he said softly. "No, it's because I dropped several cast iron hints about wanting to be alone in this one with you." "And they just went along with that idea?" "Yeah, of course they did. It's..." "...my band," they finished in unison. "All right, saucy," Devlin laughed. "You want to go bed, or should we enjoy the amenities first?" "Is that a new name for it?" she asked. "Oh, you are really in top form tonight, Miss Buffy." ************************************************** "This feels nice." "Glad you like it, love." "It's so relaxing. They have them at my gym, but I've never used them. I don't....what was that?" "Doorbell." "Hotel rooms have doorbells?" Spike climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped a towel around his lean hips. "This one does." "So who's at the door at this time of night?" Buffy asked, slipping down further into the roiling waters of the spa. "Room service, I expect." He smiled and winked. "I called down for a bottle of champagne while you were in the bathroom." Just when she thought it couldn't possibly get any more romantic. ************************************************** Not only did he pour champagne, but he brought out a box of chocolate covered cherries he'd purchased on his first swing through town that afternoon. She was instantly rocketed back to their first date, when she'd asked him what he wanted from her and he'd made that breath stealing speech about waking up with her hair spread across his pillow and holding her on his lap to feed her chocolate covered cherries. The heat from the spa softened the candies, making their hands and lips sticky. He diligently licked every trace of the dark chocolate smears from her fingers, and kissed them from her mouth. Sitting on the small built in seat, he arranged her so that she was straddling his lap, facing him, then tilted his champagne glass and let the sparkling wine trickle over her parted lips. Drops of it ran down her chin and splashed her throat, pooling in the shallow hollow at its base. She could feel him beneath her, his hardness nudging insistently against her softness. Placing her own glass on the side of the tub, she tangled her fingers in his hair, panting as his mouth moved lower to lap the champagne droplets from her breasts. "Drink some," he whispered. Bringing his wine glass up and touching the rim to her lower lip, he bent his head and pressed his lips against her throat to feel the ripples as she swallowed. A gentle touch beneath her chin tilted her head back, and his mouth captured hers. He drank the wine from her lips, then dipped his finger in the glass and painted them again, trailing a lazy path just along their inner surface, following it with the tip of his tongue. Her eyes drifted shut, her lips moist and parted, and just a little swollen from hard kisses, her breathing deliciously ragged. She abandoned herself to him, letting him move her to and fro, anywhere he chose, like a rag doll marionette. When his hands moved down to lift and caress her breasts, she heard a softly murmured plea escape her throat, whispering his name. His quiet laughter tickled her sensitive skin. "Shall I take you to bed, darling?" "Yes. Take me to bed, Spike. Take me....." TBC.... Feedback? I want, I want....