Gods And Monsters

Chapter Forty-three:

In her opinion, there was no greater comfort than a long shower after an even longer day. The hot water cleansed her naked skin, trickling down her body in gentle rivulets. Time no longer seemed relevant, as the humid air soothed her aching muscles and joints.

With a contented sigh, Hel reluctantly shut off the water. Stepping out the shower, she dried off and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. A plume of steam followed her out of the bathroom as she padded over to Spike's sleeping quarters. She closed the door behind her. Unravelling from her towel and hanging it up on a hook on the back of the door, she began to get dressed.

Without warning, the door swung open and Spike stepped into the room. "Oh, bollocks!" He blurted, his eyes widening as he stopped dead in his tracks.

Frozen in place, he couldn't help but stare. The lace embroidery on her black racerback bralette matched the trim on her black satin underwear. His hand balled into a tight fist at his side and his jaw clenched. It demanded every last ounce of his self-control to avert his eyes.

He cleared his throat, acutely aware of his southbound concentration of blood flow.  "Sorry. I didn't think, I—"

"It's fine." Hel replied quickly, flustered. Her eyes were drawn to the front of his jeans, distracted by the ridge that strained against the denim. A flush of heat washed over her skin and she tore her gaze away.

The tension was palpable. Static. Sizzling. Stretched taut across the space between them.

"Willow's here." Spike stated awkwardly.

"I'll be out in a moment."

He nodded, turning around and exiting the room without another word. The door clicked shut after him.

Shortly afterward, she emerged fully dressed. Her plaid, dark green and navy blue flannel shirt was worn unbuttoned over a thread-bare, charcoal grey tank top, and her distressed, black skinny jeans were torn at the knees.

Spike was lying on the couch, arms folded behind his head and eyes closed. He was still without a shirt. Xander and Willow sat at the dining table, conversing.

She perched atop the arm of the couch and elected to tune them out, lacing up her black leather, Doc Martin combat boots. Turning her head, her eyes fell upon Spike. They travelled upward along the length of his body, drinking in every inch of him, from his socked feet to his long, black eyelashes.

Her eyes dropped to his hands. Those wonderfully long fingers of his that she had dreamt about on more than occasion. Her gaze drifted lower, to the stubborn bulge in his jeans.

The temptation to touch him was beyond overwhelming. Her mind began to wander into the realm of fantasy, and, just this once, Hel allowed herself the indulgence. Images and thoughts came to her unbidden, crowding her head.

She wondered how his skin would feel against her own, whether his lips were truly as soft as they looked... How it would feel to have him buried inside her at long last, filling her to the hilt...

"Hel?"

The interruption of Xander's voice startled her, and her head snapped up. Hel prayed her cheeks weren't as enflamed as they felt. "Hm?"

Willow stared at her with confusion, standing alongside Xander by the front door. "I asked you a question."

"Mm... People were talking, none of them me. I have to filter out a lot of witless babble." Hel replied flippantly.

"We're going for a coffee run, and I was wondering if you would like anything." Willow offered,  ignoring the insult.

"No, thank you." Hel declined.

Willow and Xander took their leave of the apartment. There was a barely perceptible click as the door locked behind them, and Hel and Spike were alone once moe.

Dismounting the couch arm, Hel strolled over to the kitchen and put on the kettle. Once the water was boiled, she prepared herself a mug of green tea. She then returned to her seat and switched on the television, setting her tea down on the side table.

Opening his eyes, Spike gazed up at her from his prone position across the couch cushions below. "Are they gone?"

She glanced sidelong at him, flipping through the TV channels. Somehow her eyes managed to avoid the front of his jeans. "Yes."

"Finally." He exhaled, hauling himself upright and slouching against the pillowed backrest.

Tossing the remote onto the cushion beside him, Hel leapt to her feet.

He regarded her curiously as she meandered around the corner to the left. "What are you doing?"

"I'm bored." She dropped to a low crouch, peering inside the cabinet. "I wonder if Xander has any decent booze laying around." She mused, standing up and making her way around the room in pursuit of alcohol. "Where do you think he would hide it?"

"Ooh, no you don't." He chuckled, his mouth curling into a wry smile. "Do you really want a repeat of last time?"

Hel met his gaze, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Perhaps."

Wordlessly, he tilted his head ever-so slightly to one side and eyed her curiously, analysing the implications of her response.

She checked every kitchen cupboard door, one by one. At long last, a bottle of brandy was discovered in the very last one she searched. She beamed, snatching it up. "Ah ha!" Hel spun around and held it triumphantly aloft.

Raising her eyebrows, she flashed him a flirtatious smile. "Will you be joining me?"

Spike couldn't help but grin at the glee in her eyes. "I'd be honoured."