Gods And Monsters

Chapter Nineteen:

Hel took a step nearer to him. Her shining eyes were locked onto his as she took the shirt from his hand and tossed it aside. She wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue before softly biting down on it, then gave him a shy smile. "Dance with me."

"What?"

"Dance with me." She repeated.

"Very well." Spike smirked. "Your wish is my command, your highness." He bent forward at the waist, bowing before her.

Straightening, he placed his hand on her waist and took her right hand. Her free hand rested on his shoulder. Spike drew her in closer, beginning to sway her in his arms. Without warning, he released the small of her back and twirled her outward. In one swift motion, he tugged her back. As a result, Hel stumbled and tripped over her own two feet. She collapsed against Spike.

The unexpected weight threw him off balance, toppling them both. He found himself flat on his back, and her lying atop him, flush with his body. Her palms were pressed against his bare chest, her face directly above his.

"Sorry." She blurted.

"I know." He replied breathlessly.

"I didn't mean to—"

"I know."

"We should get up. We should... Really, really... Get... Up..." He said quietly, his voice lowering to a whisper before finally trailing off completely. His eyes dropped to her lips. He relished the sweet ache of her hips against his, biting down on a groan.

She felt the heat between them, inhaling shakily, and her hands trailed up past his chest and shoulders.

Cupping his jaw, her fingertips slowly teased the small curls at the base of his neck. Hel discovered that she quite liked his hair. It was remarkably soft, in spite of the bleaching it had been subjected to countless times, and she enjoyed playing with it.

His blood was surging, pounding throughout his body and setting his nerves on fire. Spike could take it no longer. The scent of her drowned his senses. He rolled her off of him and claimed her place on top, bracing his forearms on either side of her head. He pressed himself down onto her, and her breathing hitched. Grinding gently against him in return, Hel gripped his shoulders. She ran her hands down the expanse of his strong back.

He pulled on her hair-tie, setting her wavy black tresses free. He clenched his jaw, hearing the low moan that fell from her lips when he began to move with her. Kissing her collarbone, Spike brushed his lips along her clavicle and mapped out the column of her throat with his mouth and teeth.

"Spike..." She breathed, her fingers digging into his hips. She explored the waistband of his jeans, his skin smooth beneath her touch, and attempted to stealthily slip her hands under the black denim.

Unexpectedly, he pulled away. He prevented her from going any further by clasping her hands in his own. "Hel, stop."

Hel frowned, unimpressed by him ruining her fun. "Whatever for?"

"You're drunk." His response was firm, and his gaze was suddenly sober. "It wouldn't be right."

She lifted her chin, defiant. "And if I don't agree?"

"Your judgement is impaired, and you know it." He replied sternly. Lifting himself off of her and into a crouch, Spike stood, albeit a bit uncertainly. He offered her his hand and she reluctantly took it. "I think it's about time you went to bed, missy." In one swooping motion, he bent and hooked an arm behind her knees.

She gasped when he scooped her up into his arms, caught off guard, but held on tight to his shoulders. "How dare you! I demand that you put me down!" Hel ordered petulantly. "Put me down this instant!"

"Or you'll what?" Spike taunted. "Pout me to death?" He carefully deposited her on the bed and fluffed up the pillows behind her.

She glared up at him, folding her arms across her chest. "Maybe."

Smiling and shaking his head at her, he walked around to the other side of the four-poster, wood-framed bed. He sat down on the edge, beginning to untie his boots.

"What do you think you're doing?" She inquired.

"Taking off my boots, if you don't mind. Unless you want me to wear them in bed?" Spike challenged, raising his eyebrows.

She only rolled her eyes and tugged the covers up over her legs.

He loosened the laces of both boots, then wiggled his feet out of one thick-soled, black leather Doc Marten at a time. Dropping them to the floor, he scooted back towards her and swung his legs up onto the springy mattress.

Feeling a chill, Hel pulled the white duvet up to her chin. He slipped under the covers as well, and relaxed against the pillows. Hesitantly, she inched closer to him, resting her head on the pillow beside his. She draped her arm over his abdomen.

"What's your name?" She murmured, tracing patterns onto his chest with the tip of her forefinger.

Encircling her in his arms, Spike sighed contentedly. "Hm?"

"Your real name." Hel was having difficulty keeping her eyes open, and the allure of sleep threatened to overwhelm her. "What is it?"

"William." He answered quietly.

"William." She whispered, testing his name, tasting the unfamiliar syllables as they rolled off her tongue. "Not bad."

He smirked. "I'm glad you approve."

Smiling, her eyelids drooped shut, and she drifted off to the sensation of his fingers entangling with her soft, ebony hair.