BUFFY Fic: Forgotten (8/9) -- B/S
Title: Forgotten
Author: Magz
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Summary: All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?
Notes: This is the Big Giant Spike/Buffy Bodice Ripper. There are actual heaving bosoms, and manly removals of corsets. Ohhh yeah.
PART EIGHT: He Loves Me Not
William slept for the entirety of the next day, while the fever raged within him. For thirty-six hours, Elizabeth watched over him, changing the bindings on his wound and bathing the sweat from his body. Several times, she cradled him close and fed him a thin broth, afraid he would starve during his illness. And when at last his eyes opened and he smiled tenderly and cupped her cheek, she collapsed in an unladylike heap on the bed beside him. It was her turn to sleep.
Elizabeth awakened several hours later, still weary but feeling quite refreshed. William was propped up on a few pillows, looking down at her, a tiny smile on his face. "I watched you sleep," he informed her. "You snore."
"I most certainly do not!" she gasped, pretending to be scandalized. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing."
"Very well," William conceded, "you sleep like a silent angel."
"How are you feeling?" she asked him. "Your wound, does it pain you much?"
"No more than it should," he said, wincing as it pulled when he shifted slightly.
"I forbid you to be stabbed again," Elizabeth said. She moved closer to him. "You nearly died." She leaned her head on his chest, minding his injury carefully, and listened to his steady, strong heartbeat.
He draped an arm over her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. "You watched over me, though, didn't you?" he asked. "I was safe."
She turned and buried her face in his chest. "Will, I was so frightened," she admitted, sniffling a bit. "I do not think that I could have abided it if you'd died."
He caught her under the cheek with his thumb, lifting her face so he could look at her. "I didn't die, Elizabeth. I've got you to thank for that. Now come up here so that I can kiss you."
Elizabeth moved up the bed, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment before tilting her face toward his and kissing him softly. He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek as he sipped at her lips, his eyes closed contentedly.
When they drew back, breathing shakily, he said, "I missed the taste of your mouth." He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips, quirking a brow when she bit down on it lightly. "Minx," he chuckled, kissing her again.
"Have you told him?"
Elizabeth dropped her book, startled. She clasped a hand to her chest, glaring at the newcomer. "Must you always frighten me so, Daniel?"
"It's a habit," the redheaded man said, taking a seat opposite her by the fire. "Have you told him?"
"No, I haven't," she said.
"You should," Daniel said. "He has the right to know."
"I am afraid," Elizabeth admitted.
He leaned forward on his elbows, looking at her concernedly. "What is there to be afraid of?" he asked.
"When I first came to the manor, Will told me that he could offer me nothing more than his friendship," she said. She fiddled with her necklace as she continued. "He's told me that again and again, yet I stupidly fell in love with him."
"You cannot control who you fall in love with, Elizabeth," Daniel said consolingly. "In my experience, only love could get you two through all the troubles you've had. I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not paying attention. If it's not love, then I don't know my brother as well as I thought I did."
She hesitated. "If I tell him..." she said, fidgeting slightly and looking away.
Daniel smiled. "If you tell him, my brother will come back to life."
It had been three weeks, now, since Daniel had urged Elizabeth to admit her true feelings to her husband. Three weeks, and she had yet to tell him. Tonight, she told herself. She would tell him tonight.
William strode into her room then, fixing his gaze on her. He'd healed remarkably well, and only a puckered, pink scar remained on his abdomen where he'd been stabbed. He stood before her, offering his hand. "Will you come to me?" he asked. "I've missed you these last few weeks."
"I don't wish to cause you pain," she said, taking his hand and standing. "Are you certain that you're - "
"Elizabeth," he interjected, "I am healed well enough to have you in my bed. Come."
Instead of following him to his room as he'd expected her to, she pulled him toward her own bed, keeping her eyes on his. She pushed him down onto the edge of the bed, then straddled his lap carefully, her skirts hiking up to her knees. "Well, milord," she said, "it seems that I have you in an interesting position."
"Indeed you do," he said with a laugh. "What do you plan to do with me, now that you have me?"
Elizabeth pretended to contemplate her answer for a long moment. "I suppose I must kiss the breath from you," she said finally, leaning in to capture his lips with hers.
William groaned softly into her mouth, kissing her back fervently. His hands found the back laces of her gown while hers found his shoulders. With eager fingers, he unlaced her gown, then her corset, pushing both aside.
"It's been too long," he murmured, pulling her gown down her shoulders and kissing the skin he bared. He held the gown for her while she slipped her arms from the sleeves, then pulled away her corset and tossed it to the floor, his hands smoothing down her shift-covered back. "I can hardly wait to see all of you," he said.
"Nor I you," Elizabeth returned, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. She tugged at it until it came free of the waistband of his trousers, then pulled it upward. Her thighs tightened about his as he released her to lift his arms over his head, allowing her to strip the garment from him. The shirt landed on the floor and her hands flattened against his chest, gliding downwards.
Her fingernails scratched lightly over the rippled muscles of his abdomen, carefully avoiding the raised, puckered scar that the highwayman's dagger had left. "I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful you are," she said softly, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him again.
His fingers curled about her waist as he returned her kiss. "Elizabeth," he whispered, lifting her up and setting her on her feet. "Your lightest touch - " he trailed his hand down her arm, " - and I'm sorely tried." He stood then, unfastening his trousers and pushing her skirts down so that they landed in a heap at her feet. He helped her to step out of them, then knelt and slipped off her soft-soled shoes.
"You are so very lovely," he said as he rose, catching the hem of her shift and pulling it up over her head. His fingers followed the groove of her spine downward, pulling her to him. He took her mouth in a sweetly passionate kiss, then stepped away.
Elizabeth climbed onto the bed, lying back against the pillows with her knees resting modestly together and watched him through heated eyes as he pulled off his boots and removed his trousers. He knelt on the end of the bed then, going down on all fours and crawling toward her.
His approach faltered when his still-tender wound gave a warning twinge. He grimaced in pain and clutched the scar, then looked at her apologetically and moved up to the head of the bed, lying down on his back next to her. He reached for her and she came to him, straddling his thighs and bracing her hands on his chest.
I love you, her eyes said as he positioned his shaft at her dewy entrance and she sank slowly down onto him. I love you, her body said as she began to rock against him. I love you, her hands said as they smoothed over his shoulders and she leaned down to kiss him.
He thrust up into her carefully, trying not to injure himself further, clutching at her hips and groaning. He fondled her breasts with one hand, rolling her pebbled nipples between his thumb and forefinger. "So lovely," he said again, arching his neck and watching her rise and fall on him. "The way you feel..."
"It's you," Elizabeth replied breathily. "Your hands..." She lifted his hand from her breast and brought it to her mouth, kissing the tips of his fingers. "Your body... Nothing else could make me feel this way..."
William's breath hitched and he stared up at her. He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek, then trailed his hand down her body to the apex of her thighs, rubbing slowly. "Come for me," he ground out, trying desperately to stave off his own climax long enough to feel her quaking around him. "I want to see your face, glowing with the pleasure that I gave you..."
"Will," she moaned, arching her back. She leaned into his caressing fingers, crying out softly. "Will," she repeated as her eyes opened and she stared blindly at him, her lips parting on a silent moan as her climax hit her forcefully. Her body arched and bowed, her nails dug into his shoulders, her slick inner walls clenched around him, and his name tumbled from her lips a third time.
He thrust hard up into her then, letting go and releasing a milky-white flood of warmth within her depths. "Elizabeth," he groaned raspily, grinding the back of his head into the pillows and closing his eyes.
Hearing his groans echoing her own, Elizabeth could not contain the words any longer. "I love you," her entire being said as she shuddered above him, holding herself upright for a short moment longer before her arms gave out and she collapsed against his chest. She rested atop him, listening to the racing of his heart and his heavy breathing.
His hands tangled in her hair as he panted and came down from his explosive climax. His eyes remained closed, his pulse thudding in his ears. They snapped open, however, when her words came back to him. I love you...
She lifted her head, noticing his tension. "What is it?"
William sat up slowly, lifting her up and pulling out of her, then rolled off to the side and got out of the bed. He reached for his trousers and put them on, keeping his back to his wife.
"Will?" Elizabeth asked vulnerably. Her face was awash with confusion.
"I cannot give you what you want, Elizabeth," he said, tucking in his shirt. Still, he didn't face her.
She stood, flung on her bed robe, and walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. Her brow furrowed when he flinched at her touch. "What do you mean?" she asked, returning her hand to her side.
"I know what you said to me," he said. He straightened his hair, re-tying it. "I cannot reciprocate your feelings, and you know that."
"Why not?" she walked around him, placing her hands on her hips. "She has been dead for seven years. She'd want you to move on."
William flinched again, averting his eyes. "I will not allow myself to fall again, Elizabeth. Nothing is worth that much pain."
She was silent for a moment, rubbing a hand over her eyes tiredly. "I can't... do this anymore, William." A saddened expression crept over her features. "I want a man who can reciprocate my feelings. Not a dead shell."
Her words cut him deeply, despite the languor from their recent pleasure that still controlled his movements. "You don't mean that," he said quietly.
"I do," she replied. "I will go to London, and stay with my mother and father. Friendship alone cannot hold together a marriage which is otherwise as passionate as ours."
"I forbid it!" William exclaimed. "You will not leave me. Not like all the others."
"You would... you would force me to stay here?" she asked, her eyes widening.
"Stay with me, Elizabeth," he pleaded.
"Unless you tell me that you love me, you cannot stop me from leaving you," she said. "I know you love me. It's clear on your face. How else could I hurt you so badly?"
"I cannot love anyone," he whispered.
"Then I go to London on the morrow to find someone who can," Elizabeth said, turning away from him.
He caught her by the arm, whirling her around to face him. "No other man's touch will ever inflame you the way mine does!" he said, his eyes glowing with a fierce possessiveness.
She slapped him with her free hand. "Let go of me, William." She wrenched her arm free of his grip. "Arrogant pig. Get out of my sight," she spat.
Her closet was nearly empty. It was early evening, her bedroom glowed with the light of dozens of candles, and her eyes shone with remorse. Several times, she had to stop packing in order to wipe at the stubborn tears that continued to trickle down her cheeks, sniffling and attempting to compose herself.
William stopped short in the doorway, watching his wife sort her gowns before packing them away. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed convulsively to get rid of it. His eyes burned with the need to moisten themselves as he stared unblinkingly at Elizabeth, his mouth opening and closing as he considered what to say to her.
He stepped forward then, picking up several of her gowns and carrying them back to her closet, where he hung them up neatly. He returned to the bed, gathering more gowns, and brought them to the closet, only to find Elizabeth calmly pulling out the garments he'd just put away. His chest felt tight and the lump was back in his throat, larger than before.
"You don't need to leave," he said finally. "I'm sorry I shouted at you."
Elizabeth continued packing. "Unless you're here to tell me the truth about your feelings..." she said, folding a gown and stuffing it into the trunk at the foot of her bed.
He watched her mutely, the need to sink to his knees and beg her not to go nearly overwhelming him. He managed a quiet, "Don't go... don't leave me..." before the cursed lump in his throat rendered him unable to speak.
She stopped packing for a moment, turning to him and wiping her tears on the backs of her hand with a tiny sniffle. "Do you love me, William?" she asked.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. A myriad of emotion crossed his features, settling on a broken expression. He closed his eyes.
"Then I'm sorry, William. I leave for London first thing tomorrow morning." She turned back to her trunks.
The next morning, she felt his eyes on her as the carriage rolled down the drive. His left hand pressed against the windowpane, his breath fogging the glass as he watched his wife leave him. A single, fat tear rolled down his cheek.
» Part Nine »
Author: Magz
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Summary: All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?
Notes: This is the Big Giant Spike/Buffy Bodice Ripper. There are actual heaving bosoms, and manly removals of corsets. Ohhh yeah.
PART EIGHT: He Loves Me Not
William slept for the entirety of the next day, while the fever raged within him. For thirty-six hours, Elizabeth watched over him, changing the bindings on his wound and bathing the sweat from his body. Several times, she cradled him close and fed him a thin broth, afraid he would starve during his illness. And when at last his eyes opened and he smiled tenderly and cupped her cheek, she collapsed in an unladylike heap on the bed beside him. It was her turn to sleep.
Elizabeth awakened several hours later, still weary but feeling quite refreshed. William was propped up on a few pillows, looking down at her, a tiny smile on his face. "I watched you sleep," he informed her. "You snore."
"I most certainly do not!" she gasped, pretending to be scandalized. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing."
"Very well," William conceded, "you sleep like a silent angel."
"How are you feeling?" she asked him. "Your wound, does it pain you much?"
"No more than it should," he said, wincing as it pulled when he shifted slightly.
"I forbid you to be stabbed again," Elizabeth said. She moved closer to him. "You nearly died." She leaned her head on his chest, minding his injury carefully, and listened to his steady, strong heartbeat.
He draped an arm over her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. "You watched over me, though, didn't you?" he asked. "I was safe."
She turned and buried her face in his chest. "Will, I was so frightened," she admitted, sniffling a bit. "I do not think that I could have abided it if you'd died."
He caught her under the cheek with his thumb, lifting her face so he could look at her. "I didn't die, Elizabeth. I've got you to thank for that. Now come up here so that I can kiss you."
Elizabeth moved up the bed, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment before tilting her face toward his and kissing him softly. He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek as he sipped at her lips, his eyes closed contentedly.
When they drew back, breathing shakily, he said, "I missed the taste of your mouth." He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips, quirking a brow when she bit down on it lightly. "Minx," he chuckled, kissing her again.
"Have you told him?"
Elizabeth dropped her book, startled. She clasped a hand to her chest, glaring at the newcomer. "Must you always frighten me so, Daniel?"
"It's a habit," the redheaded man said, taking a seat opposite her by the fire. "Have you told him?"
"No, I haven't," she said.
"You should," Daniel said. "He has the right to know."
"I am afraid," Elizabeth admitted.
He leaned forward on his elbows, looking at her concernedly. "What is there to be afraid of?" he asked.
"When I first came to the manor, Will told me that he could offer me nothing more than his friendship," she said. She fiddled with her necklace as she continued. "He's told me that again and again, yet I stupidly fell in love with him."
"You cannot control who you fall in love with, Elizabeth," Daniel said consolingly. "In my experience, only love could get you two through all the troubles you've had. I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not paying attention. If it's not love, then I don't know my brother as well as I thought I did."
She hesitated. "If I tell him..." she said, fidgeting slightly and looking away.
Daniel smiled. "If you tell him, my brother will come back to life."
It had been three weeks, now, since Daniel had urged Elizabeth to admit her true feelings to her husband. Three weeks, and she had yet to tell him. Tonight, she told herself. She would tell him tonight.
William strode into her room then, fixing his gaze on her. He'd healed remarkably well, and only a puckered, pink scar remained on his abdomen where he'd been stabbed. He stood before her, offering his hand. "Will you come to me?" he asked. "I've missed you these last few weeks."
"I don't wish to cause you pain," she said, taking his hand and standing. "Are you certain that you're - "
"Elizabeth," he interjected, "I am healed well enough to have you in my bed. Come."
Instead of following him to his room as he'd expected her to, she pulled him toward her own bed, keeping her eyes on his. She pushed him down onto the edge of the bed, then straddled his lap carefully, her skirts hiking up to her knees. "Well, milord," she said, "it seems that I have you in an interesting position."
"Indeed you do," he said with a laugh. "What do you plan to do with me, now that you have me?"
Elizabeth pretended to contemplate her answer for a long moment. "I suppose I must kiss the breath from you," she said finally, leaning in to capture his lips with hers.
William groaned softly into her mouth, kissing her back fervently. His hands found the back laces of her gown while hers found his shoulders. With eager fingers, he unlaced her gown, then her corset, pushing both aside.
"It's been too long," he murmured, pulling her gown down her shoulders and kissing the skin he bared. He held the gown for her while she slipped her arms from the sleeves, then pulled away her corset and tossed it to the floor, his hands smoothing down her shift-covered back. "I can hardly wait to see all of you," he said.
"Nor I you," Elizabeth returned, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. She tugged at it until it came free of the waistband of his trousers, then pulled it upward. Her thighs tightened about his as he released her to lift his arms over his head, allowing her to strip the garment from him. The shirt landed on the floor and her hands flattened against his chest, gliding downwards.
Her fingernails scratched lightly over the rippled muscles of his abdomen, carefully avoiding the raised, puckered scar that the highwayman's dagger had left. "I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful you are," she said softly, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him again.
His fingers curled about her waist as he returned her kiss. "Elizabeth," he whispered, lifting her up and setting her on her feet. "Your lightest touch - " he trailed his hand down her arm, " - and I'm sorely tried." He stood then, unfastening his trousers and pushing her skirts down so that they landed in a heap at her feet. He helped her to step out of them, then knelt and slipped off her soft-soled shoes.
"You are so very lovely," he said as he rose, catching the hem of her shift and pulling it up over her head. His fingers followed the groove of her spine downward, pulling her to him. He took her mouth in a sweetly passionate kiss, then stepped away.
Elizabeth climbed onto the bed, lying back against the pillows with her knees resting modestly together and watched him through heated eyes as he pulled off his boots and removed his trousers. He knelt on the end of the bed then, going down on all fours and crawling toward her.
His approach faltered when his still-tender wound gave a warning twinge. He grimaced in pain and clutched the scar, then looked at her apologetically and moved up to the head of the bed, lying down on his back next to her. He reached for her and she came to him, straddling his thighs and bracing her hands on his chest.
I love you, her eyes said as he positioned his shaft at her dewy entrance and she sank slowly down onto him. I love you, her body said as she began to rock against him. I love you, her hands said as they smoothed over his shoulders and she leaned down to kiss him.
He thrust up into her carefully, trying not to injure himself further, clutching at her hips and groaning. He fondled her breasts with one hand, rolling her pebbled nipples between his thumb and forefinger. "So lovely," he said again, arching his neck and watching her rise and fall on him. "The way you feel..."
"It's you," Elizabeth replied breathily. "Your hands..." She lifted his hand from her breast and brought it to her mouth, kissing the tips of his fingers. "Your body... Nothing else could make me feel this way..."
William's breath hitched and he stared up at her. He brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek, then trailed his hand down her body to the apex of her thighs, rubbing slowly. "Come for me," he ground out, trying desperately to stave off his own climax long enough to feel her quaking around him. "I want to see your face, glowing with the pleasure that I gave you..."
"Will," she moaned, arching her back. She leaned into his caressing fingers, crying out softly. "Will," she repeated as her eyes opened and she stared blindly at him, her lips parting on a silent moan as her climax hit her forcefully. Her body arched and bowed, her nails dug into his shoulders, her slick inner walls clenched around him, and his name tumbled from her lips a third time.
He thrust hard up into her then, letting go and releasing a milky-white flood of warmth within her depths. "Elizabeth," he groaned raspily, grinding the back of his head into the pillows and closing his eyes.
Hearing his groans echoing her own, Elizabeth could not contain the words any longer. "I love you," her entire being said as she shuddered above him, holding herself upright for a short moment longer before her arms gave out and she collapsed against his chest. She rested atop him, listening to the racing of his heart and his heavy breathing.
His hands tangled in her hair as he panted and came down from his explosive climax. His eyes remained closed, his pulse thudding in his ears. They snapped open, however, when her words came back to him. I love you...
She lifted her head, noticing his tension. "What is it?"
William sat up slowly, lifting her up and pulling out of her, then rolled off to the side and got out of the bed. He reached for his trousers and put them on, keeping his back to his wife.
"Will?" Elizabeth asked vulnerably. Her face was awash with confusion.
"I cannot give you what you want, Elizabeth," he said, tucking in his shirt. Still, he didn't face her.
She stood, flung on her bed robe, and walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. Her brow furrowed when he flinched at her touch. "What do you mean?" she asked, returning her hand to her side.
"I know what you said to me," he said. He straightened his hair, re-tying it. "I cannot reciprocate your feelings, and you know that."
"Why not?" she walked around him, placing her hands on her hips. "She has been dead for seven years. She'd want you to move on."
William flinched again, averting his eyes. "I will not allow myself to fall again, Elizabeth. Nothing is worth that much pain."
She was silent for a moment, rubbing a hand over her eyes tiredly. "I can't... do this anymore, William." A saddened expression crept over her features. "I want a man who can reciprocate my feelings. Not a dead shell."
Her words cut him deeply, despite the languor from their recent pleasure that still controlled his movements. "You don't mean that," he said quietly.
"I do," she replied. "I will go to London, and stay with my mother and father. Friendship alone cannot hold together a marriage which is otherwise as passionate as ours."
"I forbid it!" William exclaimed. "You will not leave me. Not like all the others."
"You would... you would force me to stay here?" she asked, her eyes widening.
"Stay with me, Elizabeth," he pleaded.
"Unless you tell me that you love me, you cannot stop me from leaving you," she said. "I know you love me. It's clear on your face. How else could I hurt you so badly?"
"I cannot love anyone," he whispered.
"Then I go to London on the morrow to find someone who can," Elizabeth said, turning away from him.
He caught her by the arm, whirling her around to face him. "No other man's touch will ever inflame you the way mine does!" he said, his eyes glowing with a fierce possessiveness.
She slapped him with her free hand. "Let go of me, William." She wrenched her arm free of his grip. "Arrogant pig. Get out of my sight," she spat.
Her closet was nearly empty. It was early evening, her bedroom glowed with the light of dozens of candles, and her eyes shone with remorse. Several times, she had to stop packing in order to wipe at the stubborn tears that continued to trickle down her cheeks, sniffling and attempting to compose herself.
William stopped short in the doorway, watching his wife sort her gowns before packing them away. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed convulsively to get rid of it. His eyes burned with the need to moisten themselves as he stared unblinkingly at Elizabeth, his mouth opening and closing as he considered what to say to her.
He stepped forward then, picking up several of her gowns and carrying them back to her closet, where he hung them up neatly. He returned to the bed, gathering more gowns, and brought them to the closet, only to find Elizabeth calmly pulling out the garments he'd just put away. His chest felt tight and the lump was back in his throat, larger than before.
"You don't need to leave," he said finally. "I'm sorry I shouted at you."
Elizabeth continued packing. "Unless you're here to tell me the truth about your feelings..." she said, folding a gown and stuffing it into the trunk at the foot of her bed.
He watched her mutely, the need to sink to his knees and beg her not to go nearly overwhelming him. He managed a quiet, "Don't go... don't leave me..." before the cursed lump in his throat rendered him unable to speak.
She stopped packing for a moment, turning to him and wiping her tears on the backs of her hand with a tiny sniffle. "Do you love me, William?" she asked.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. A myriad of emotion crossed his features, settling on a broken expression. He closed his eyes.
"Then I'm sorry, William. I leave for London first thing tomorrow morning." She turned back to her trunks.
The next morning, she felt his eyes on her as the carriage rolled down the drive. His left hand pressed against the windowpane, his breath fogging the glass as he watched his wife leave him. A single, fat tear rolled down his cheek.
» Part Nine »