| Free Cable? by BloodEnvy |
| Chapter #1 - Wrong |
| CHAPTER ONE “I shouldn’t be doing this... I can’t... He’s evil... He’s bad... He’s...” unbelievably bad. Buffy shuddered slightly at the memory of his mouth, his tongue, at her neck, her breast, her stomach, her... “No.” She shook the wanton thoughts away like flies. “I can’t.” Why on earth had she come here? To accept his offer? To ride into the sunset in his stupid black car and... Fuck. No, not fuck. Don’t think about... that. She paced in front of the door, fingering the key in her hand. The key he’d left her. Don’t stop believing. Memories flashed behind her eyes. Falling from the catwalk and onto his face. Sitting side-by-side, drinking scotch and giggling. Agreeing to a truce for as long as there was scotch left in the bottle. The truce... She stopped and stared at the door accusingly. How dare he? How dare he expect her, the Slayer, to forget everything and run away with him. To forget her duty and birthright and... Angel. Angel. Angelus. The evil version of her ex was gone. But so was Angel. He had parboiled into dust with Drusilla after being bound, gagged and left unconscious in the book-cage in the school library. By the time Buffy had shaken off her mum and gotten to the library, she’d been too late. The sunrise had beaten her. She’d seen that last peaceful look of sleep before he’d crumpled to dust... He was gone. And.... and now what? The love of her life had died only a week ago and what was she doing? Standing outside the hotel door of the soulless monster responsible for Angel’s death. Sure, he had killed Drusilla in the process, but he was a creep. Love meant nothing to him. One hundred or so years together were nothing. One hundred plus years of endless, mind-blowing, amazing... No. No. No. No. No. NO. NO! She couldn’t... She shouldn’t... She mustn’t... She was fast running out of n’ts. And the door had just opened. * * * * * * * Spike leaned his shoulder against the door frame and watched the slayer with lidded eyes as she turned to face him. Tongue curling against the roof of his mouth, he absorbed the sight. Buffy stood before him, wearing a white button-down shirt with legs clad in skin-tight jeans. As she folded her arms over her chest defensively he caught the slightest flash of dull red lace. Tongue in cheek, he grinned. “Hey there, Slayer. Not lost are we?” He slid his thumb through his belt and flicked his eyebrows up suggestively. “What? I....No! I’m just here to, uh...” Buffy grappled widely for an excuse. To what? Find herself a room for rent? How dare he stand there all calm and nonchalant-like all shirtless and... Without a shirt... all half-naked and... Godlike... She was almost drooling again. “To... to....” “Relive memories, Slayer?” “I... No! No way! That... that was a mistake. I came to tell you...” “Tell me...” Spike prowled slowly towards her, head down and looking up through his lashes. Predatory. “What?” “That I wouldn’t come... h-here.” Her breathing was becoming shallow, short. He was too close. She could practically smell him. Cigarettes, alcohol and... Soap? Did he bathe? “You came here to tell me you wouldn’t come here?” Spike raised his eyebrows in amusement. Buffy’s head was becoming foggy. She couldn’t be here. This was wrong. Spike edged closer. Very wrong... His face was inches from hers. Very, very... wrong... Their lips met. |
| Chapter #2 - Wanting |
| CHAPTER TWO Hands grasping at each other’s faces, Buffy and Spike backed into the hotel room, lips fused together in a torrid kiss. Kicking the door shut behind them, Buffy tangled her fingers in platinum hair and swallowed a moan. She felt hands slide over her neck, her breasts, coming down to pinch her waist. She shivered. Damn him and his hands. Tongue rolling over hers, Spike lifted her and slammed her against the door. He grinned triumphantly into the kiss as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Hands gripping tighter at her waist, he moved his mouth over her cheek to her neck and ear. Head rolling back, Buffy exalted in the feel of his icy kiss. Her eyes widened and her lips parted as his mouth moved to her collarbone. Oh... God. And there went that slutty bump-and-grind again. How did he do that? The door groaned as the power of her thrusts grew, and began to shudder dangerously her. Realising the danger, Spike swung her around. The lamp and several, long-empty whisky bottles fell to shatter and crunch under his boots. Pushing Buffy against the wall he slid a hand over her thigh and higher, between her legs. He smirked at her. A mistake was it? This wet through jeans? I don’t think so. Hands fumbling with his belt buckle, Buffy revelled in the wrongness in what was going on. Her thought pattern, however, was quickly given new direction when his hand clasped over hers against his hips as they rose and fell together against the wall. Spike drove his crotch against hers, the warmth palpable even through two layers of denim. Mouth against her neck, he inhaled the scent of her arousal. Sweet ambrosia. Finally managing to undo his belt, Buffy moved her hands to his chest for support. Feeling the swell of his muscles beneath the skin, she ran her fingertips over his abs before returning her hands greedily to grope his chest. With a pantheric growl, Spike spun and threw the Slayer onto the bed, briefly watching her bounce on the mattress springs before diving on top of her giggling figure. Blunt teeth grinding against her earlobe and collarbone, his hand roved beneath her shirt. Buffy giggled and moaned as he pressed his taut body against hers. The sensual growling in her ear was making her clit throb. Eyes rolling back, Buffy ran her hands down to his waist, pulling his belt free and throwing it across the room. Buffy struggled with his button and fly, need overpowering any reasonable thought. She knew, in her gut, that if pants were undone, there would be no turning back. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care. Spike’s fingers traced the edge of Buffy’s bra, the lace tickling his fingertips. Feeling her hand brush the side of his erection through his jeans, he mashed his lips to hers, and with a sensual growl, threw his hand back, ripping the shirt from its buttons, exposing her bra-clad chest. Lowering his hand to push his jeans free from his hips, he managed to completely remove them before returning his hand possessively to her hip. Closing the distance between their mouths, he attacked her tongue with his, rolling it into her mouth. Using one hand to hold himself above her, he slid the other down her body, briefly pausing to squeeze a breast before continuing down to her hips. With an expert flick of his fingers, he undid the button of her jeans and slid the zipper down, agonisingly slow. His hand continued long after the zipper, dragging the denim down with it. As they got to her calves she kicked them off, all the while returning the steadily mounting kiss that Spike seemed to be in no way relenting. The feel of his hardened flesh brushing against her inner thigh sent shivers up her spine, and she felt her nipple begin to harden through the lace as Spike ran a thumb over it. Reaching behind herself, her hands fumbled momentarily with her bra clip before managing to unclasp it. She felt Spike’s hand grasp the flimsy material and she returned her hands to brace against his chest. Keeping a firm grip on the bed with one hand, Spike tore her bra from her chest and once again was caught in the glory of those perfect tits. Bloody, fucking fantastic. With an animalistic grin he tore his gaze away and lowered his mouth to her breast, running teeth and tongue over her nipple. Keeping his eyes on her face, Spike felt a rush as he watched her eyes shut and immediately widen, her mouth parted in silent ecstasy. Arching into his mouth, Buffy groaned, biting her lower lip. As his erection ground against her through the thin lace, she felt her underwear soak through and her teeth draw blood from her lip. Hand sliding over her other breast, she pinched her nipple to match the mouth on her other. Pushing her hips up to meet his, she raised herself almost completely off the bed. He had her. He had her. Not even Drusilla had tasted this good. Or had responded to his touch this well. She was writhing beneath him, twisting and arching under his mouth and body. Hearing her drawn out moan, he mentally slapped himself. He loved Drusilla. She and Angelus could still be alive for all he knew. Surely the Slayer had saved her love from a fiery death, and his along with him. After all, why would the Slayer let her precious Angel die? They were to be “together forever”, or whatever crap he had fed her, while still refusing to change her. And if they were alive, he would return to Dru soon enough, he couldn’t forget her. She had saved him from... morality. Saved him from mortality. She was his forever, not this... Buffy let loose a gasp and a sigh as she felt his mouth pull away and his grinding slow. A whimper trembled past her lips. Shaking his head, Spike stared down at the writhing Slayer beneath him. Hand still on her breast, she moved against him, desperate and wanting. Wanting. Dru hadn’t wanted him ever since Angelus had returned... at all. She’d used him shamelessly, playing on his affections and treating like one of her bloody dolls. A dark emotion pushed forward in Spike, and face morphing, he returned from his thoughts with a vengeance to attack his bedmate again. Keeping one arm holding himself above her, he slid the hand on her waist down her stomach, exalting in the reactions he got from her trembling torso. Lowering his fanged mouth to her neck, he ran his tongue over her hammering pulse. Buffy felt the bumped forehead brushing against her jaw and she felt the hair on the back of her neck standing up in the uncomfortably familiar warning of danger. Pulling his head back, she forced him to meet her eyes, watching his expression. Dropping her hand from his head, she cocked an eyebrow. Almost immediately, Spike pushed away his game-face, returning to his human visage. Raising a hand to touch his cheek, Buffy felt a small smile play on her lips. He really did have control of himself... it was amazing. Swelling at the glowing look and tender touch, Spike glanced to meet her eyes, and seeing her stare back at him, he tried to shake the feeling that suddenly gripped him. Clasping his mouth over her bee-stung lips, and pushing his hand into the waistband of her panties, he ran fingertips over the freshly smooth flesh beneath the lace. Feeling his hand glide over her labia, Buffy moaned audibly, her half-formed thoughts clumsily shaping three little words she knew she never should say. “I... Need... You...” At the sound of her strangled confession, Spike ripped her panties away, reducing the somewhat expensive red lace to shreds. “Hey! Those cost a lot you kn—“ Buffy’s indignant reprimand was abruptly broken off with a cry as Spike plunged a finger into her core. Tightening her teeth’s renewed grip on her lip, Buffy pushed herself into it, spreading her knees wider. Feeling him slide another finger in and begin to pump, she let loose a whimper of delight, her lip bleeding. After a week of trying and failing to please herself, it was a welcome release. What if this was the reason why? It wasn’t the touch that mattered... It was him. And as much as she had tried to deny it, to reason herself out of wanting this, she knew that it was him that got her off, the only thing that might. But she shouldn’t be— “OH!” As if knowing about her internal revelry, Spike had pulled his fingers from her, slid down her body, and ran his tongue from bottom to top. Closing his mouth over her clit, Spike once again pushed two fingers into her centre. Rolling his tongue over her labia, lapping deeper to tickle the rim of her entrance above his fingers he slid his tongue up, sliding and curling it over her clit. Feeling her push against his face, he flicked his tongue over her clit rapidly, pumping his fingers deep within her. Suckling hard on the sensitive nub, Spike curved his fingers against the most receptive bump within her. Feeling her arch up beneath him, he groaned into her sex, the sound’s vibrations causing her to moan loudly, the throaty exclamation signalling the approach of her release. Slowly pulling his fingers from her, Spike reached up and touched them to Buffy’s lips. He growled as he felt her suck them into her mouth, running her tongue around them. God, the spitfire keeps this up and I’ll blow right here and now. The feel of her tongue tasting the juices of her own making was just so... hot. And the work she was doing on his fingers felt almost as good as what he remembered her mouth on his cock had been like. They would definitely have to do that later... for now... I just have to convince her to stay. With a growl that rumbled deep in his throat, Spike completely went to town, licking and suckling at her clit and dipping his tongue into her centre, teasing out each small wave of cum as she began to climax. At the first hint of her release, Spike slid her hand under her and twisting it under her butt, he repeated a move he had used to create the first orgasm he had given her in the bar a week ago. Buffy squealed as a thumb was pushed into her butt, bucking and mewling as she felt herself spasm against his hand and into his eager mouth. Spike pushed his palm firmly against her shuddering pussy, swallowing each wave of cum that flowed from her. Before she could catch her breath, Spike crawled up her, closing his cum-stained mouth over hers and plunged himself in to the hilt of his cock. As he had the first time, he just started pumping in and out, the motion getting easier with every thrust, each push making her shudder and groan. Spike watched as she squeezed her eyes shut, his tongue in cheek. She pulsed beneath him, the movement causing her walls to clench tightly around his cock. Running a hand over her breast, he slid it down over her stomach to caress her clit. Rolling his thumb over it, he lowered his mouth to kiss her collarbone and neck. Buffy’s eyes widened as his mouth moved to her ear, tongue rolling over her earlobe. Pushing up to meet each of his thrusts, she threw herself into the movement. Digging fingernails into his back, she shoved her pelvis into his, driving him deeper than ever before. “Oh god... oh god... oh god... oh god... oh god...” Spike gasped as she pushed into him, her continuous babbling pushing him to the edge, his balls becoming coated in her sweet nectar. Pumping harder than ever, Spike threw her legs over his hip, pulling her completely off the bed, each thrust pushing her butt hard against the mattress. Surprising her with another passionate kiss, he caught the taste of her blood on his tongue. The effect was almost instantaneous, the blood rushing straight to his balls. He erupted within her with a roar, the force pushing her flat against the bed. “OH GOD!” The feel of his cum exploding inside her pushing her to the limit, Buffy’s pussy walls shook around his cock as she came, a cry erupting from her chest. “OH GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDD!” Feeling him collapse on top of her, Buffy felt herself shake as she came down, the force of her multiple orgasm causing her walls to reverberate around his now semi-flaccid cock. Her panting breath matching his, she pushed lightly against his torso. Feeling her hands on his chest, Spike rolled off her with a sigh. “So Slayer... satisfied?” No answer. “Slayer? ...Buffy?” Spike turned his head towards Buffy’s naked form. She was fast asleep. |
| Chapter #3 - Morning After |
| CHAPTER THREE Buffy awoke to the feel of cool bedcovers and cooler skin. She was lying across the bed in the same position as she had been when she fell asleep. The light on the other side of her eyelids was dim- the curtains must be closed. Spike lay on his side next to her, an arm draped across her stomach and his cheek mashed against her shoulder. Buffy groaned. She shouldn’t have come here. She wasn’t supposed to be here. But she was... And so was he. She had woken up alone after sleeping with Angel, after completely giving herself to him, to anyone for the first time. She had come here with maybe, possibly, the intent of sleeping with Spike, and was completely prepared to wake up alone. After all, Angel had left because he had turned evil, and Spike was evil... so why wouldn’t he leave? But he hadn’t. Spike was still here, fast asleep next to her. He hadn’t left. So now she had to. Pushing his arm off her, she rolled off the bed. Avoiding most of the broken glass and flicking the light switch, Buffy crept across the room to pull on jeans and search for her shirt. Clipping her bra behind her, she spotted her shirt lying amidst broken bottles and the smashed bedside table. Picking up the white material she saw the complete lack of buttons and ripped front. Perfect. Just perfect. Flipping the shirt over her arms she straightened it. Shrugging, she tied the bottom into a knot above her navel, creating sort of crop top. It was passable, she guessed- if she was in a porno about a naughty school girl. Damn it. * * * * * * * Spike woke to an empty bed, his arm draped over the empty space his bed mate had until recently occupied. Shielding his eyes against the glare of the fluorescents, Spike propped himself up on his elbows and watched the blonde search for clothing. It was interesting that the Slayer he found so bloody hot was a blonde. He had never seen the attraction Angelus had seemed to have for blondes. Sure, Darla had been striking, but she had never had been a weak spot like Drusilla had been, or even Cecily for that matter. Running his tongue over the inside of his teeth, Spike smirked as Buffy looked mournfully down at her torn shirt. When she tied it around her waist in a busty little number he almost jumped her right there. To add to the image, she bent to search the floor for her heels, giving him a rather nice view of her ass, all wrapped up in those impossibly tight jeans. It was bloody rude, teasing him like this. Not to mention the fact that she was wearing clothes again, and no matter how sexy or naughty they were; that was never good. “Nice outfit Slayer. I’m surprised you don’t wear your shirt like that all the time.” Buffy spun around, caught completely by surprise. She had thought she would be able to sneak out before he’d woken up. Apparently not. Throwing Spike a glare, she quickly untied the knot and wrapped the torn material over her chest. A harsh retort burning on her tongue, she raised her eyes to him. The comment died before leaving her lips however, at the sight of his naked body, just lying there so... casually. He was so comfortable in his, well, skin... She was almost envious of how relaxed he was. “I thought you were asleep.” Readjusting himself on the bed slightly, he laughed inwardly at the blush slowly spreading on her cheeks. “As much as I would love to sleep, love, I find I get lonely in a big bed like this.” He slid a hand over the place she had vacated, staring up at her with lidded eyes. “Well... then get... get a smaller bed.” “I thought maybe I could just share it, pet.” “I... no...” Buffy was really finding it difficult to think straight. “God, would you put some clothes on!” Snatching his jeans off the floor she threw them at him, catching him by surprise. Scrabbling to catch the jeans, Spike stood and stepped into them. Buckling his belt, he kept his eyes on the Slayer. Buffy turned away, arms still tight around her chest, staring into the door of what she guessed was a bathroom. God, it would be soooooo good to shower before I leave. Then I wouldn’t have to go through the rest of the day smelling like... Buffy sniffed her hair discreetly... yuck, sweaty... sex sweat. And she didn’t have to shower alone... she had been wondering what it would be like in a... “Save water, Slayer?” Snapping back to reality, Buffy spun back around, expecting Spike to be completely dressed back by the bed. She jumped when she realised that his face, his body were only a foot from hers. And he was still shirtless. God, he had a nice chest. God, she had a nice mouth. He had missed her mouth. Seven nights without it and he had almost gone mad. Sure, staying at a hotel with free cable and a bar down the corner had helped somewhat. But not enough. He again had to fight down the urge to just attack her with his own. He had to convince her to stay otherwise... she’d just leave. “Save...? No. Not water... I have to go.” Buffy heard her herself saying it, willed her body to prove it, and for several seconds she didn’t move. Spike watched her internal battle, surprised by how much she might not want to leave, and how much he wanted her to stay. He felt almost like he... no. He couldn’t... Could he? Finally forcing her body to move, she turned away and walked to the door. “Last night was different you know.” Buffy stopped, hand resting on the doorknob. “Different from before, I mean.” Taking a small, cautious step towards her, Spike watched Buffy’s back, for any sign, however small. That she might stay. It really was bloody strange, how much he wanted her not to leave. “Last time... The first time... was, honestly, bloody fucking fantastic. I never knew anyone alive could move like that, or get off on pain so much... or... or go that long. You... you were incredible. But, it wasn’t the best. We were drunk, we were lonely, and well, we were idiotic. But last night, it changed things. Last night we weren’t using alcohol and revenge as a bloody poor excuse for a shag. It was different. Primal. Something we both wanted. We both… And I know you felt it. You were there too.” Buffy was frozen, hand still resting on the doorknob. But she couldn’t seem to turn the handle and go. She had felt what he was talking about. This hadn’t been some freaky sexfest... it had been... different. Desperate. Like she had needed it. Taking a shuddering breath, Buffy dropped her hand from the handle. “Say I did. Say I did feel it... What then?” Her back to him, Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. “You… you could stay.” He had to be careful. Use the wrong amount of hesitation, of careful wording, and she was out that door. “I… I have a life. Family. Friends. How do I leave that behind? I can’t leave that behind.” Buffy held onto the images of her friends, Willow, Xander, Oz, Giles, even Cordelia. And her mother. She couldn’t leave her behind. Oh, God, her… “Mom!” |
| Chapter #4 - Phone Home |
| CHAPTER FOUR Spike faltered, watching Buffy turn to face him, wild eyed. “I…what?” “I told Mom I was going to stay in L.A. at my Dad’s for a while, because I needed some time alone, and he was on a business trip… I was supposed to call her!” Spike raised an eyebrow. Watching the Slayer turn towards the door again, he reached out to grip her shoulder lightly. It was strange to see the Slayer so… normal. Not a strong, wise-cracking little bitch, but as a seventeen-year-old-girl. She flinched under his touch. “It’s alright, pet. There’s a phone here in the room, you can use that.” “Thank you.” Was that gratitude? Gesturing towards the bed, Spike watched Buffy falter at the motion, and he bent down to fish the phone out of the rubble. Holding the phone up to prove he wasn’t about to force himself upon her the moment she sat down he waited for her to sit before handing it over. “I’ll, uh… Be outside, if you need anything while you’re… yeah.” Approaching the door, Spike grabbed his shirt from the chair in the corner and slipped it over his head. Gripping the knob, he heard Buffy’s reply, low and soft. “You don’t have to go Spike.” Moving his eyes back to her, Spike saw her, eyes down, head bowed, fingering the phone’s cord. Nervous? He might just have won this... Silently, he trod back to the bed, sitting down next to her, hands in his lap, their thighs almost touching. Dialling her home number, Buffy gripped the receiver a little too tightly, to stop her hand from shaking. Had she just told Spike to stay? But there was nothing wrong with that, was there? It’s not like she had told him she’d stay. She was just being polite. After all, he had offered, and it was technically his room. She couldn’t kick him out of his own room, even if he was a vampire... “Mom? It’s me.” Spike was amazed at how her voice had changed in those three little words. She was yet again transformed into a seventeen-year-old girl instead of a girl who kicked his arse every other week. “No. No, I’m fine. I just… yeah. My bus was late arriving, and… no, I….” Buffy suddenly became very aware that Spike was watching her. He was just sitting there, staring at her as she spoke. Glancing at the vamp, she watched as his smirked. Realising he had noticed, she stuck her tongue out at him. Muffling a giggle, Buffy watched as incredulity passed over the vampire’s usually so cocky face. Watching it twist into a wicked grin, Buffy turned away, refocusing on her mother’s lecture. “No, I- I know Mom, I... yes. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I would have- no, I... I... ohhhh...” Buffy shuddered, a small moan slipping between her lips as Spike lowered his mouth to her collarbone and ran his tongue over her skin. Spike chuckled into her neck as she squirmed, trying to shake him off. Listening to her muffle giggles and groans as she answered her mother’s questions, Spike saw her arm unfold from her chest, revealing her cleavage. Grin spreading wider, he raised a hand cautiously to slide it across goose-bumped flesh. Buffy was trying to concentrate on the conversation, but it was impossible to ignore the icy kiss playing across her throat. Or the fingers slowly creeping under her bra to rub a thumb over a hardening nipple. “No... yes Mom I’ll... hohhhh... No I’m... I’m fine... I’ll call again... later... I... ohhh.... promise.” Buffy’s eyes shot daggers at the top of Spike’s head as his tongue slid up behind her ear. “Yeah... I... looohh... you too.” Slamming the receiver down, Buffy glared at Spike as he raised his head. As a triumphant grin spread across his lips, she glowered at him. Swinging back, Buffy punched him with enough force to send him soaring. Flying back to crash against the bed head, Spike looked incredulously up at the girl. “What the bloody hell was...” Spike immediately silenced himself as Buffy’s smirk widened into an evil smile that rivalled his own patented grin. Spike’s eyes widened almost comically as she approached him, swung a leg over his hips and lowered herself for a kiss. Pausing an inch above the vampire’s lips, Buffy searched for a reason for her actions. Her body was tingling from the teasing he had just done in the brief phone call home. She had done her daughter-duty to her mother, and Giles didn’t expect her to call for another few days. Spike watched the blonde above him, she was staring back at him, eyes flickering over his face. Parting his lips slightly, he cocked his chin upwards to reach her lips, but was pushed back by the hands gripping his chest, head hitting the pillow. Having the Slayer straddle his hips the way she had in past fights was fast making him hard again. Hands up slightly, prepared for defence, he was caught by surprise when she lowered herself suddenly to brush her lips against his. Quickly deepening the kiss, Buffy shed the ruined shirt and ground against him. After all, what did she have to lose? |
| Chapter #5 - Warm |
| CHAPTER FIVE “So, where did you learn to do that?” Buffy lay on her stomach on the bed, blankets pulled up over her back, facing the wall opposite. The room was deliciously warm, the dull orange glow of the lamp on the bedside table the only light. Next to her lay Spike, lying lazily on his back, head turned to face her, a sheet pulled wantonly up over his hips. She purposefully avoided his eyes… and his body. She focused on the sheets. “Learn to do what, love?” A smile tugged lightly on Spike’s lips as he watched her. “You know... that, that thing.” “Which thing would that be?” He ran his fingertips lightly over the bare skin of her back, smiling again as she shivered slightly. He chuckled as she shrugged him off. “You know what thing... that thing you did after that... other thing... the thing with your mouth.” “Ah, that thing.” Amused, Spike watched Buffy steal a glance up at him, and smile sheepishly when she caught him looking. “Natural talent?” “Natural talent, huh? Not exactly something you could put in a job application.” “Depends on what job you’re applying for.” Spike flicked his eyebrows suggestively. Buffy glanced up, bemused. Meeting the vampire’s eyes for a second time, she fought down the blush building on her cheeks. "Well it was... wow.” She drew out the last word shakily. “So, I guess that your precious ponce Angel couldn’t do it?” Spike questioned triumphantly, the feeling quelled almost immediately as sorrow fell on the Slayer’s face. As much as he loved to tease and torment her, he felt bad causing her that much anguish. What the hell was up with that? “No... No, Angel never did that.” Buffy’s reply was soft, if he hadn’t had his enhanced hearing, he doubted he would have heard it. And he kind of wished he didn’t. Her voice was so full of pain and hurt that it almost completely ruined his fun. “He didn’t do much of the stuff you did...” Spike snorted. “You mean in all the time you to were together, the nit kept it PG-13? God, did he never have any fun?” He couldn’t help himself. He was evil. “...There wasn’t an ‘all the time’.” Buffy whispered, wondering why on earth she was telling him this. This wasn’t his business. Hell, she wasn’t sure why she was even still there. Spike glanced up at the blonde, brow furrowed. “What?” “There weren’t a... lot of times. There was just the one. One... time.” Her eyes focused determinedly on the sheets again. Spike’s eyebrows raised. Does she mean that she and Angel had only done it the once... and then him at the bar? That was her second time? Wait, he was her second time? HIM? Buffy stood up, dragging half the sheet with her. Glancing around the room, her eyes fell on her clothes. Bending down to grab the pants, she stopped short when she realized the zipper had been snapped. Damn it, those were my favorite jeans. Straightening up, Buffy turned to glare accusingly at Spike, but spun away again as she realized that her use of the sheet had dragged it off of him, his crotch barely covered by the fabric’s corner. Again both shaken and impressed by his overt comfort in his own flesh, Buffy brushed her hair back from her face. Head spinning, she groped for a way to exit the room despite her complete lack of clothing. Eyes falling on the door she had noticed before, Buffy settled on the idea and strode toward the door, determinedly refusing to look back at the now-naked Spike. Spike watched in silence as Buffy moved toward the bathroom, the feel of the cotton sliding from his skin sending tingles over his thighs. Turning on his side, he propped himself up on his elbow, smirking at her back. He remained motionless as she reached the door, waiting. C’mon Slayer, don’t let me down... C’mon. Buffy turned the knob of the door before slipping inside, and despite her intentions, glimpsed back at the vampire still motionless on the bed. Spike’s leer widened into a grin as she turned away. Watching the blonde slowly close the door behind her, stopping only to extend an arm through the crack, dropping the sheet to the floor, Spike ran a satisfied hand through his hair as the door clicked shut. That’s my girl. |
| Chapter #6 - Thoughtful Gifts |
| CHAPTER SIX Buffy shivered slightly as the cold air of the bathroom brushed against her naked form, playing across her back and stomach. She paused only slightly before reaching behind her to lock the door. She wasn’t about to give Spike an all-access pass to The-Buffy-in-the-shower-Show. Tucking hair behind her ear, Buffy stepped into the shower, eyes briefly resting on the wood of the door, checking to make sure Spike hadn’t tried the lock. She shook herself, realizing she was halfway between making sure he hadn’t, and hoping he had. Squeezing her eyes shut, Buffy raised her face against the spray of burningly refreshing water. Pushing both hair and water out of her eyes, she searched the shower for soap and shampoo, grabbing the complementary packages waiting in a dish next to the towel rack. Retreating back behind the sliding door, Buffy reveled in the feel of the hot water pounding against her flesh. Rubbing shampoo through her hair, she felt the bubbles slide down her back. Shower good. Shower REALLY good. God, I needed this. The...shower, not the Spike.... with the... sex. The Spike-sex... The sex with Spike. God, what the hell am I doing? * * * * * * * Hearing the spray of the shower on the tiles through the door, Spike stood, bending down briefly to scoop his jeans from the floor. Pulling them over his legs and buckling the belt, Spike glanced over at the bathroom door for the second time. Shrugging, he strode slowly to the door, resting his hand on the handle. He was tempted to simply break the lock and join her. A simple squeeze of the handle would pop the lock and allow him access. Images of the Slayer, soaking wet and in the throes of passion played behind his eyes, exciting both his mind and body. Gripping the handle tightly, he rested his forehead on the door, eyes squeezed shut. What the hell was he doing? Trying to rearrange his thoughts, Spike slid his tongue against the inside of his cheek, before jerking himself away from the door. He was acting like some bloody love-sick prat. This wasn’t his bloody high-school crush, this was his mortal enemy... he just happened to be sleeping with her... fucking her. God, he needed a smoke. Glancing at the curtains, the light told him it was early evening. Just dark enough for a jaunt outside. Pulling his shirt over his head, he ran a hand through his hair, flattening it into its usual sitting. He grabbed a duffel bag from under the bed and flung it onto the mattress. Seizing his leather duster from the chair in the corner, he swung it over his shoulders, slipped his arms into the sleeves and headed out the door. * * * * * * * Turning off the shower, Buffy reached behind the curtain for a towel. Wrapping the skimpy cloth around her, she stepped out of the shower, stopping short as she realized her problem. She had no clothes. Her mother had sent all her clothing ahead to her dad’s in L.A., to create less hassle for her. She had intended to stop here shortly to tell Spike to go to Hell, and she hadn’t expected her clothes to be shredded in the process. And she really wasn’t going to leave here in nothing but a towel. Unlocking the door, Buffy inhaled deeply to calm herself before re-entering the main room. Glancing around her, her Slayer-senses told her immediately that the room was empty. She also noticed that the hotel obviously had a house-keeping service, because the bed had been made up with fresh sheets and the broken bedside table had been removed. Mints had even been placed on the new pillows. Buffy blushed at what the cleaner would have thought when they had seen the state of the room, and what they would have thought was going on in the bathroom when they had come in. Speaking of... where the hell was Spike? He hadn’t run off, had he? Had he just used her until he was satisfied and left her to pick up the tab? Had he... just gone? Like Angel had? Did he...? Did she... care? Why did she care? Glancing pointlessly round the room again, Buffy ran a hand through her hair, eyes falling on the bed. Sitting on the middle of it was a large, black leather bag. Cocking a curious eyebrow, Buffy gripped the bag’s shoulder strap and pulled it towards her. Looking down at herself, she pushed the towel’s corner into the top of it, allowing her to use both hands in case the contents of the bag happened to be hostile. Reaching for the zipper, she noticed a worn, crumpled piece of paper tucked into it. Picking it up hesitantly, she turned it over in her hands, brow furrowed. Unfolding it, she noticed unfamiliar scrawl across the page, somewhere between a punk-rocker’s scribble and old fashioned calligraphy. Way to curly. Thought you might need these. Figured you’d kick my arse if you didn’t have them. Sent the housekeeping up. Gone for a smoke. Be back soon. S. Slowly unzipping the leather, she peered inside, eyebrows rising. Spinning the bag upside, she shook the contents onto the bed. Clothes jumbled out of the bag. Hands absently sorting through the clothes, she pulled out tops, skirts and dresses of different styles... mostly edgier and more daring fashions. Turning them over in her hands, she noticed that they were definitely designed for sexiness rather than comfy-ness. Not really her style. Sure, she liked to look sexy sometimes, when she went to the Bronze with the gang. But, she never really dressed for that. She usually preferred to dress in cute, colourful outfits... not lace and sheer nettings. She shrugged. Clothes were clothes. And damn, did she need them. Besides, she kept thinking that she wanted to learn to feel comfortable in her own skin, so to speak, so, hell. Why not try wearing clothes she wouldn’t usually? Grabbing her bra from the floor, she fastened the clasp behind her back, picking through the clothes for underwear. She scoffed, he hadn’t gotten her any. Probably figured that she wouldn’t need them... God, he was a pig. He hadn’t left her much in the way of pants; she rolled her eyes as she slipped on the one pair of jeans he’d left her. A deep blue, they clung to her curves almost impossibly. Fastening the button, she searched for a top. Quickly throwing the more slutty shirts back into the bag, she sorted through them, finally settling on a simple back tee. Appraising herself in the mirror, she noticed that the top was not as simple as she thought. It hugged her figure tightly and the neckline plunged in a “V” well below her usual comfort zone, and her chest looked absolutely huge! Her cup size looked like it had gone up at least three sizes. Rolling her eyes at her reflection she turned back to the bed, pushing the rest of the clothes into the bag. Hands stumbling across the note again, she reread it. Gone for a smoke. Be back soon. It was kinda presumptuous of him, expecting her to still be here when he got back. She wasn’t his girlfriend, some lovesick puppy following him around, because she had a thing for vampires. ...Vampires. Gone for a smoke. What if he’d gone out for more than a smoke? He could be out there, feeding off some poor innocent right now! He could be... The door creaked open. |
| Chapter #7 - Admission |
| CHAPTER SEVEN Buffy spun around to face the doorway. Spike stood there, hand gripping the handles of a plastic bag. Head cocked, he had that typical balls-and-swagger air about him, but she could see something in his eyes. Uncertainty? “Hey, Slayer.” “Spike.” Buffy folded her arms across her chest indignantly. If he was using her so he could feed without getting a pointy stick through his heart, he had another thing coming. Spike’s eyes flicked downwards as Buffy crossed her arms, appraising her body. She was barefoot, the heels from the other night still tossed in the corner. She was wearing another pair of sinfully tight jeans, and her torso was clad in an extremely tight shirt. His gaze lingered over her chest slightly longer than it should have, but God, they just looked so god damn biteable. Not the first outfit he would have chosen for her, but it would do for starters. If he played his cards right, he could have her staying for a good long while, and no doubt wearing some of the sexier outfits in the process. Running a tongue over the inside of his teeth, he met her eyes again. She didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm for the clothing. “What the bloody hell is wrong now?” “Where have you been?” “For a smoke.” His brow furrowed, eyes narrowed in confusion. “I... didn’t you see the note?” “I saw the note.” The note in question was now tucked into her jeans pocket, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Does it usually take you over an hour?” “I... OW!” Spike’s defensive explanation was abruptly cut off when Buffy’s fist made contact with his nose. “What the...” Spike blocked her right jab, answering with his own left hook, knocking the girl back a few steps. Touching her mouth, Buffy glared at Spike. A back handed punch hit his cheek, snapping his head to the side. “Would...” She delivered a jab to his nose, snapping his head back. Spike’s hand flew to his bleeding nose, before shooting forward to block a right hook. “You.” He blocked an uppercut. “Please!” Another left swing hit his cheek. “STOP!” Spike roared, grabbing Buffy’s arms, pressing them to her sides. He glared down at her, brow wrinkled in anger and confusion. “What the bleedin’ hell is your problem, woman?” Buffy stared fiercely up at Spike, their faces dangerously close. He was panting, which was kind of unneeded. She breathed deeply, chest heaving in fury, inhaling the smell of cigarettes. She couldn’t smell any blood on him, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. She had to be sure. Spike shivered slightly as her hot breath tickled his throat. Seeing that fire in her eyes was beautiful, and that, mixed with the scent of her breath... it was intoxicating. Tongue between teeth, he ducked his head slightly. Watching Spike lean down, his intentions clear, Buffy let the anger back in. She thrust her knee upward, hitting Spike in the stomach. He released her arms, clutching at his stomach. Buffy spun around, her foot rising up to kick him. Foot meeting his head, she sent him flying with more force than she had when she’d hit him on the bed. Spike crashed back against the corner where the door meets the wall, the plastic bag dropping from his hand. “What the... fuck? What the fucking hell is your bloody problem?” “You were feeding weren’t you? You were killing?” Buffy strode towards him, hands on hips. “That’s where you were, wasn’t it?” “What... no!” Spike was shocked. She thought he was out there killing? Even after he had left her clothes? How could she...? “You’re lying.” “I am not!” Spike wiped the blood from his nose and stood slowly, hands up in surrender. “I haven’t been drinking people... I haven’t fed off a person since... well a week ago.” “You expect me to believe that?” “Check the...” Spike wiped his nose again as the blood began to drip into his mouth. “Check the soddin’ fridge if you don’t believe me.” Buffy narrowed her eyes at him briefly before turning to the bar fridge on the opposite side of the room. Walking quickly towards it she jerked the door open. The fridge was almost completely filled with packets of blood. Grabbing one from the top shelf, she studied the label. They were pig’s blood, the label from the Sunnydale butcher. Glancing back at the vamp behind her, she shut the fridge and turned to face him. He was still standing, his nose no longer bleeding. He hadn’t moved, either towards or away from her, but his stance was wary, his head cocked to the side. Her next question was quieter, confused. “You... you’re drinking pigs blood?” Spike ran a hand through his hair, his demeanour losing its usual swagger. “Why do you think, Slayer? I haven’t killed anyone in a week. Not since... Not since the bar.” He stepped slowly towards her, shoulders hunched and hands in his coat pockets. “I just... can’t seem to do it, alright? It’s no big bloody deal.” Buffy took a step towards him. Then another. “No. No big deal.” She shrugged, flinging her arms out. “You just haven’t been killing for the last week, just because of... me?” Spike looked up at her, his blue eyes searching her green briefly before pushing past her. “Look, just drop it, alright? So, I’m not feeding on people at the moment? Doesn’t make me one of your damn Scoobies.” He yanked the door of the fridge open again and pulled out a bag of blood. Buffy had stumbled slightly when Spike had shoved past her, and was now staring at Spike, wide eyed. His outburst shocked her, he had never yelled at her like that before. She had never heard him like that before, ever. She stepped towards him, slowly. Could he honestly be trying, despite what he was saying, to be good? For her? Spike watched, fuming, as Buffy stepped slowly towards him. He was expecting scorn, derision, possibly another blow to the face. She now stood mere inches from him, her scent invading his senses again. Her next words came out husky and sweet. “I don’t expect you to be.” Spike’s eyes widened in shock as Buffy stood on her toes, brushing her lips softly against his. His eyes fluttered closed as she hardened the kiss, causing it quickly to become more heady and passionate. His right hand came up to tangle in her hair, while his left gripped her waist. She slid her hands up, brushing them over his abs and chest, to hold his neck, fingers curling around to lightly grasp the nape. Buffy smiled against his mouth, feeling the way she had caught Spike by surprise. Feeling him relax into it, and his hands move over her body, she parted her lips to push her tongue into his mouth. Spike slid the hand from her hair to grip the other side of her waist, pulling her up slightly, his kiss becoming increasingly enthusiastic. Tugging lightly on her bottom lip, he let loose a sensual growl rumbling deep in his throat. Which, strangely, was answered by another growl. Buffy giggled, pulling away from Spike’s mouth, looking down in embarrassment. Spike chuckled, lowering a hand to rest, open palmed, on her stomach. “Hungry, pet?” Buffy’s eyes caught on the hand on her belly briefly, the strangely affectionate touch making her both happy and puzzled. Tipping her head back to look up at the owner of said hand, she found herself blushing a little at the intensity of his blue-eyed gaze. He’d asked such a simple question, but he made it seem like it was the most important question in the world. “A... A little, I guess. I haven’t eaten since I... since I got here.” “That’s two days, pet. Don’t you humans need to eat, I don’t know... A lot?” Spike’s question was light, amused. He wasn’t used to being around anybody who had to eat so often. “Yeah... three square meals a day and all that.” Buffy smiled slightly, humoured by the sheer oddity of the conversation. She was talking to Spike about her eating patterns. “I mean, I’m good with one, but hey! Wouldn’t say no to anything big or small in terms of food right now.” She glanced at the open fridge, disappointed by the lack of food of the non-blood variety. Frowning, she looked back up at Spike. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cracker or two tucked away in that ice-box of yours, now would ya?” Spike grinned openly at the Slayer, one hand brushing up and down lightly on her upper arm, the other gesturing behind her. “The bag, love.” Brow furrowed, Buffy strode to the corner and bent to pick up the plastic bag that lay forgotten on the floor. Peering inside, Buffy’s smile widened into an all out beam. Spinning around to face Spike, she tossed the bag onto the bed, and all but ran at him. Jumping, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands flying down to catch her by the thighs, and she threw her arms around his neck. Without hesitation, she planted a kiss on the Spike’s bewildered mouth. “You brought me food!?” |
| Chapter #8 - Walls Down |
| CHAPTER EIGHT Spike laughed, still shaken by the Slayer’s abrupt lowering of inhibitions. Securing his hold on her thighs, he planted a soft kiss on her collarbone and another on the base of her throat. “Yeah, pet. Thought you might need it...” His breath tickled her throat. “It’s probably getting cold though.” Buffy shuddered, confused by what was going on. They were... being affectionate. With each other. “Right. Better get to it then.” Buffy wriggled slightly in Spike’s arms, pointedly waiting for him to put her down. Glancing at him, she cocked an eyebrow. His gaze was down, his eyes watching her chest and thighs. She rolled her eyes and stopped moving, waiting for his eyes to return to her face. When she’d counted far past ten waiting for him, she punched his arm lightly, playfully. Spike looked up, startled. He couldn’t help it. She was so close to him again, her body’s scent was overpowering. And having her wriggle against him... it was impossible to ignore. Having her in his arms like that, with her hands around his neck... it was like she was actually comfortable with him. Shaking his head in mock defeat, he lowered her to the ground as she unwrapped her legs gracefully from his waist. Buffy readjusted her top, suddenly all too aware that her chest was really earning itself a starring role. Covering herself as best she could, she emptied the plastic bag onto the bedcovers. A burger, a large serve of fries and... Ice-cream. He bought her ice-cream? Throwing a broad smile over her shoulder at Spike, she tossed the bucket his way. “Head’s up.” Spike caught the bucket easily, turned on his heel and slid it into the freezer. Tearing the corner of the blood bag with his teeth, he sat on the bed, legs laid out in front of him, back leaning against the headboard. Sitting Indian-style on the opposite side of the bed, Buffy faced him with her knee against the headboard. Throwing Spike another grateful grin, she unwrapped the burger and fries, quickly stuffing three of the latter into her mouth. Muffling an embarrassed giggle with her hand, she glanced up at Spike, who was watching her with an amused smirk. He sat, turned slightly on his side to face her, as she watched him fingering the bag in his hands. “You... you can eat if you want to. The blood, I mean. It... it won’t bother me.” Spike’s brow flicked up in slight bemusement, unsure if she really meant it. With a shrug, he raised the bag to her in a mock toast. “Thanks, Slayer. All I needed was your permission.” Buffy rolled her eyes, but watched in fascination as Spike raised the bag to his mouth, his face morphing halfway through the draught. Chewing on her already half-finished burger, she studied his face as his forehead grew bumpy, his eyes yellow, teeth elongating into fangs. Grabbing a fry, she studied his game face. Lowering the bag, Spike cocked his head at her stare, confused at her attention. Raising his hand, he touched a hand to forehead, letting out a slight chuckle when he realized he had turned. Raising his eyes to study the girl across from him, he searched her face for her reaction. She wasn’t showing fear or disgust or even anger. He almost reverted to his human face, but he reconsidered. Curiosity got the best of him. “See something you like, Slayer?” He rotated his hips slightly, readjusting himself, pressing his tongue against a pointed fang. “What? No!” She scoffed dismissively. “I just... it’s weird.” “My face is weird?” He joked indignantly. “Yes. I mean… no! I mean...” Buffy shook her head, biting her tongue. “It’s just… besides from the eternal stuck-in-the-eighties punk-rocker-grunge look... with the black leather, and the biker boots and the bleached hair... and I’m rambling now so I should probably stop before I run out of air.” “Ah, you’ve uncovered my diabolical plan! To trick you into prattling on ‘til you die from lack of air.” Spike clicked his fingers in an over dramatic show of disappointment, causing Buffy to giggle through a mouthful of burger. Not the same as the girlish laughter he got from Drusilla, but a sweet, bubbly giggle... that was possibly because Buffy wasn’t completely sack o’ hammers. “So, now that you’ve completely demolished the “cool” of my entire “look”, do you have a point?” “What, I mean is... Besides the look, which isn’t actually that bad as far as looks go, I guess... I mean, you look... kinda normal, you know? And...” Spike ran his tongue over his teeth, his game face slowly reverting back to his normal sardonic smirk. Eyebrow raised expectantly, he returned her gaze. “And what, pet?” “And... you look... kinda nice. You know for a thirty-year-old-“ “Twenty six! Twenty six! Do I look bloody thirty to you?” “Ooh, sorry” Buffy grimaced. “For a twenty-six-year-old punk rocker.” Popping another fry in her mouth, she chewed thoughtfully before continuing. “You look nice... and normal. It’s almost possible to forget that you’re a snarly, evil vampire. And you know, as far as vamp faces go... it isn’t that bad.” Spike almost fell off the bed out of shock. Had she just said that his game face was... attractive? What the bloody hell was she playing at? ...“Playing at”. Why not see how far the girl was willing to take it to prove she actually meant that? Taking another long pull from the bag, Spike let his game face fall over his features again. Locking his eyes with her, he licked the blood from his upper lip slowly. Watching her drop her gaze to the last of the fries again, he grabbed one, watching her eyes follow his hand to his face. Popping the fry into his mouth, he took another mouthful of blood, grinning close-mouthed as the Slayer’s eyes widened almost impossibly. “Oh my god, gross!” Buffy laughed, slapping his hand away as he reached for another fry. Spike waggled his tongue at her over his fangs, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Buffy grabbed a fry and threw it at him, hitting him in the nose. Laughing at his expression of bewilderment, she dodged the return throw, before diving at him, sending them both tumbling off the bed. |
| Chapter #9 - Play the Game |
| CHAPTER NINE Giggling, the two blondes rolled onto the carpet, Spike landing on his back while Buffy landed straddling his hips. His hands automatically rose in defense before he faltered, watching the girl atop of him. She was kneeling over him, her hands resting lightly on his hips between her legs. She sat there, giggling, the sound and movement sending vibrations through her body and against his crotch. So he couldn’t really be held responsible for what he did next. Spike grabbed Buffy by the arms and flipped their positions, effectively pinning her with the weight of his body. Forcing her hands above her head, he cut off her shout of surprise by crushing his lips to hers with bruising force. Pushing his tongue into her mouth, he kept one hand clasped around her wrists while the other ran down her body, tweaked a nipple through her shirt, and down her thigh. Hooking her knee around his waist, he pulled open her pants, ruining the second pair in two days, and unbuckled his belt. Without hesitation, Spike unzipped his jeans and plunged himself into her centre with a shout, one echoed by the girl beneath him. He surged within her, hitting her core with every downward stroke, each upward stroke sliding against her clit. Buffy moaned throatily, pushing her hips up to slam against his. She was already so close to release. How did he do that? Spike tore away from her mouth and leered down at her through his game face, pulled his belt from his jeans and secured her hands together tightly, muffling her half-hearted protest with another kiss. Ripping her shirt open, he dragged his mouth down her cheek and neck to graze fangs against her pulse point. Feeling Buffy squirm instinctively away from pointed teeth, he kissed her neck softy, tenderly. Lovingly. “Don’t worry pet, not gonna hurt you.” He slid a fang over the soft flesh of her neck and groaned as the sweet smell of the blood filled his nose. “Just gonna have a little taste.” Sucking hard on her pulse point a moment longer, Spike lowered his mouth to her cleavage and sunk his fangs into the front of her bra, tearing it open. He ran a calloused thumb over her left nipple, teasing the rosy bud into a hard nub, pinching it hard. He kissed softly down her cleavage and up over her right breast. Flicking a tongue over her nipple, he sank his teeth into her breast just as he sunk his cock to the hilt within her. Spike drank deep as he felt her push against him, not only pushing her hips up, but her breast too, sinking his fangs deeper into her soft flesh. Thrusting faster and harder than before, he rumbled deep in his throat. The girl had been wasted on Angel. The poof hadn’t known how to touch her, how to fuck her… how to love her. What? Spike’s mind yelled, his thrusts faltering. Love her? He didn’t… he couldn’t… could he? Did he, William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, love her? “Oh, God, Spike! I’m gonna….!” Buffy’s cry brought Spike’s attention back to her, startling him out of his thoughts. Her inner walls clenched and constricted tightly around his cock, and he couldn’t help the strangled moan he let loose. “I’m gonna…” Spike didn’t stop his movements as Buffy yelled her release, pounding harder than before, drinking deeper. Buffy’s half-formed words and cries drifted into moans as Spike felt her heat beat begin to slow. Without pause, Spike withdrew his teeth and kissed the wound, lathing his tongue over the injury to stem the blood. His attention continued over her nipple as his fingers traveled down to tweak her clit, still pumping hard and fast within her. As Buffy rode out the last exquisite wave of her orgasm she struggled against the belt that still secured her hands together. She wanted to touch him, to have all of him. She wanted to run her hands over his chest… clutch at his arms… run her fingers over his hips, his thighs, his hardened cock. She groaned loudly in frustration, and Spike’s head came away from her breast to look questioningly at her. Seeing her pull again at her bindings, Spike’s face broke out in a savage, self-satisfied leer. “Uh, uh, uh, pet.” He taunted, sliding out of her completely. She moaned loudly at the sudden emptiness, pushing her hips up against his, trying to force him back inside her. Spike pushed her hips down, slamming her butt flat against the carpet. He smirked down at her, his thumb slowly circling her clit. “Right now is about my fun. You just lie there like a good little Slyer and keep quiet.” Truth was, Spike loved the way Buffy moved, he loved the way she curved responsively against him, the wanton grimaces and wide-open eyes. He loved… her? He needed to prove to himself that this was just about the sex. He wasn’t her lap dog. He was William the Bloody. Growling, Spike took hold of her jeans in both hands and pulled, the denim tearing apart. Pulling them off her legs with two quick jerks, he stared down at her naked form, momentarily caught up in the sight. God, she was beautiful. “But—“ Buffy started, cutting herself off as Spike’s scarred brow cocked questioningly, almost threateningly at her. Her inner-slut couldn’t help but get excited, the cruel edge of his glare promising the same kind of violence, pain and pleasure of their first night together, in the bar. “What? Are you arguing with me, love?” He flipped her onto her stomach, one hand holding her belted hands above her head, the over tracing a line up her crack, coating it in her own cum. “That’s not how we play the game.” Taking hold of her hips and pulling her up to a kneel; Spike speared himself into her ass, all the way. Buffy screamed out loud, halfway between pain and joy, the tight burn of him filling her so completely exciting her even more than before. Spike didn’t stop or slow, he hammered in and out of her ass as she rocked back and forth on her knees, slamming back to meet his hips as he pushed in. God, it was so tight. So hot, and tight and God… The sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the air, joined by Buffy’s moans and throaty screams, Spike’s groans and shouts. His body hit her clit with each surge forward, coating both her burning quim and his balls in her juices. Feeling his balls tighten and Buffy’s movements grow more erratic- she was close too- he pushed harder into her, driving in to the hilt. “Oh, God! Spi—“ Buffy cried out, drawing out his name in a wail. Spike let his vampire out at that moment, felt his face morph and his fangs elongate. He leaned over her, hands possessively tight on her hips. “You’re mine, Buffy.” He whispered in her ear, before he sunk his fangs deep into her shoulder and followed her into oblivion. |
| Chapter #10 - Duty Calls |
|
| Chapter #11 - Anywhere But Here |
| CHAPTER ELEVEN “I really should go…” Buffy giggled, her words triggering another kiss from Spike, his tongue running over her stomach. He’d been cutting off every coherent thought she’d had so far, and it was fast becoming something she was causing on purpose. “I mean, it is my sacred—Oh!” Spike had just slid up her body and closed his mouth over her nipple, pinching it with his teeth. Pulling away he smirked at her. “Your sacred what, sorry love?” Buffy shot him a hard, scornful look before pushing his head back down to her breast. Laughing into her skin, Spike gladly returned to licking, sucking and nibbling at her breast, his deft fingers creeping up her body to pinch her other nipple. Enjoying another few minutes of his oh-so talented hands and mouth, Buffy sighed and pushed him off, scooting away out of reach. It was strange how quickly she’d gotten comfortable, being naked around him. Guess playing dominatrix in a bar and three days in a hotel room could really loosen a girl up. Grabbing the discarded singlet off the floor, she shook her head at the tattered remains. It had somehow been destroyed in the last hour or so. It was a good thing Spike had brought her more than one pair off clothes. Ripping a length loose from the top, she used it to secure her hair back in a ponytail, standing up. Spike lay on his back, his arms spread out dejectedly. Huffing a huge sigh of disappointment he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “C’mon pet, bloody torture it is, leaving a guy in the middle of it.” Buffy stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to the bed, sifting through the clothing. “God, why couldn’t you get me any normal clothes?” She held up one of the raciest shirts- a black fishnet with a bright red bra fixed into it. Shaking her head at his hopeful expression, she chucked it at him, hitting him in the face. “Where did you get these from anyway?” “Gotta have my secrets, don’t I?” Spike smirked, throwing the shirt back onto the bed as he stood, stretched and scoped the room for his pants, scratching his chest. “Oh, God, they’re from your dead hooker victims aren’t they?” Buffy dropped the skirt she was holding, an expression of horror plastered to her face. Spike had to force himself not to laugh at the fact that she cared about that while standing stark naked in front of him. “My ‘hooker victims’?” Spike repeated, offended. “I don’t go after hookers! I have some sense of class! Besides, they taste terrible. Too salty.” Buffy closed the distance between them abruptly, slapping him on the chest. “Can you not joke about killing people?” She demanded. Spike flinched from the hit, but rolled his eyes at her all the same. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your knickers twisted. He reached around and pinched her ass. “But that might be bit hard, mightn’t pet?” He grinned at her, tongue curling behind his teeth. Buffy smacked him on the arm, and turned back to the bed, swatting away his wandering hands as she resumed her clothes search. Finding his jeans hidden under the twisted sheets, she threw them at him, before pulling out her own outfit. Appraising herself in the mirror, Buffy shook her head. “That’s it. We’re swinging by my dad’s to pick up my clothes before I head home.” “’We’?” Spike asked idly, pulling his shirt over his head. “Yeah, ‘we’.” Buffy rolled her eyes as she shoved clothes back into the bag. “I am so not paying for the cab back home. Besides, you can just drop me back in Sunnydale on your way to… wherever the hell you’re headed.” She shrugged, nonchalant despite the fact that her heart had just dropped into her stomach. She knew she would have to leave the hotel eventually, but… she didn’t really expect to care. Why did she care? “Where… where are you going?” Spike shrugged into his duster, his eyes down. “Not sure, love. Brazil, maybe.” “Oh, that’s... cool, I guess.” Buffy muttered, babbling, zipping the leather closed. “Not my first choice for ‘Anywhere But Here’, but I guess it’d be nice.” “Anywhere but what?” Buffy shook her head, “Anywhere But Here… it’s a game. You know, the place you’d wanna be more than anywhere else in the world. Will, Xander and I play it at school. You know, right before a math quiz or something. There’s usually someone famous involved.” She laughed, looking down. It felt like a lifetime ago. Sitting in the courtyard at school, listening to Xander talk about the waterslides, worrying about pop quizzes. A different world. “Oh, yeah? And what would your answer be?” Spike stalked towards her, slowly. He was doing that irresistible thing with his eyes… where he gazed up at her from under his brow. Buffy giggled again, letting him slip his arms around her waist and turn on his heel, plopping down on the bed, pulling her down onto his lap. “It changes every week. That’s kind of the point.” “Well, what’s this week’s then?” Spike smirked, tongue curled against his teeth. Buffy pretended to ponder the idea for amount, tapping a finger against her cheek. “Not sure, you first.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder, a look of rapt attention on her face. “Where is the one place you’d want to be most in the whole wide world?” “Hmm… the place I want to be the most in the world? With the person I want the most?” Spike met her eyes, his expression serious. “I’m in a bar. Some bloody awful place filled with broken glass and there’s blood and booze all over the floor. I’m naked and hogtied to a mechanical bull, and being fucked by the most beautiful bloody woman in the world.” His expression didn’t waver, and Buffy dropped her eyes, pulling away from him. “Spike…” Spike let her stand, his arms sliding off her waist. He watched as she took a few steps away, putting a few feet distance between them, her back to him. “Pet…?” Buffy hesitated, turning back to face him. He’d moved silently from the bed and was standing a foot and a half from her. She inhaled shakily, catching the scent of distressed leather, cigarettes and a strange earthy scent that was uniquely Spike. Closing her eyes, she held them shut for a few moments before finally speaking again. “Spike… I… you don’t have a soul.” “I can still love.” |
| Chapter #12 - Confessions |
| CHAPTER TWELVE- CONFESSIONS Buffy hesitated, turning back to face him. He’d moved silently from the bed and was standing a foot and a half from her. She inhaled shakily, catching the scent of distressed leather, cigarettes and a strange earthy scent that was uniquely Spike. Closing her eyes, she held them shut for a few moments before finally speaking again. “Spike… I… you don’t have a soul.” “I can still love.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew he had even thought them, and his shocked expression was a ghost of hers. Did he really just say…? Fuck. He’d just thrown his love for Drusilla onto a sword to die and thrown himself on after it. He’d just told Buffy- the Slayer- that he- a vampire- loved her. And he wasn’t even the bloody poof. Fuck. “You… you love?” Buffy whispered, her eyes wide. God, what the hell was he saying? He couldn’t possibly mean… Spike shook his head, arms hanging uselessly by his side. Running a hand through his hair, he looked up at her. She was staring at him, almost horrified. Figuring a final twist of the proverbial sword probably wouldn’t kill him… her soon to be incoming stake would… Spike shrugged, almost bitterly. “Yeah, pet. I love. How d’you think me and Dru survived a century together?” “You love Dru?” Buffy couldn’t manage structured sentences, her mind tumbling words together into incoherent thoughts. She also couldn’t help the quiet note of disappointment that rang in her voice. Was she just filling the void? “I loved Drusilla. I did. But she’s gone. I…” Spike broke off, drawing in a shuddering, unnecessary breath. He looked so pained. “I killed her. Tied her up, and let the sunlight have her. I killed her. For you.” Spike paused, meeting her eyes. “I… I didn’t want to know it, to… admit it to myself. But yeah, I love you. I think I’ve loved you since that first night.” “In the… In the demon bar?” Buffy murmured, brow knitting together. She dropped her eyes again. “The first night I ever saw you. Dancing in the Bronze, laughing with your friends. I think I fell in love with you the first night I saw you, but I couldn’t admit it to myself. I don’t have a soul Slayer, but I can love.” Buffy met Spike’s eyes again, teeth worrying her lip. He loved her? He was in love with her? This had to be some kind of joke, some kind of trick to get her off guard. Some part of an evil plan… It had to be… something… not this. It couldn’t be this…. It couldn’t… But he looked so… honest. Taking a small step towards him, she studied his face. He was standing there completely still, his eyes on hers. His jaw was set tightly, almost painfully. His eyes were searching for a reaction, any reaction. God… Oh, god, they were so beautiful. She could have melted in those clear blue eyes. She closed her eyes against his gaze, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. The last time… the only time she had ever loved anyone was Angel. She’d loved him completely, trusted him completely. Given herself to him completely. He’d gone evil, hunted her friends, threatened her family, and killed Ms Calendar. All because of love. Buffy let out a short puff of air through her nose in a bitter laugh. Opening her eyes, she found Spike’s again. He stood exactly as he had before, watching her. The only thing that had changed was his eyes. The honesty was still there, but underneath there… was pain. His eyes shone with pain and uncertainty so strong that she felt tears well up in her eyes. Spike watched Buffy as she closed her eyes, her brow creased and her expression worried, thoughtful. God, he’d blown it. Why hadn’t he bloody just let her go? She was chewing her lip, and he had to stop himself from leaning down and catching it between his own. God damn it. He was so fucking screwed. She didn’t love him. She could never love him. He should just walk out, leave for good. Leave her a few bucks for a cab and just go. Buffy opened her eyes, focusing on his face again. He saw tears form in her eyes, and he swore his unbeating heart shattered. Again, he had to stop himself from moving forward, his body screaming for him to comfort her. Buffy frowned, taking a cautious step towards Spike. Angel had killed, tortured and terrified those around her because she had given herself to him. He had turned evil, because she had loved him, she had let him in. And Spike… She had let Spike in in a foolish attempt at revenge against Angelus, wanting to hurt him like he had her. She’d let Spike do things to her, followed him here and, despite her better judgment, followed him inside. She hadn’t woken up to an empty bed, alone and confused. Spike hadn’t tried to murder all her friends and family after sex. He’d tried to do it before, but now…? Now he kept fridges full of pig’s blood instead of hunting down teens in dark alleys. He hadn’t turned evil. Leaning up on her toes, Buffy pressed a kiss to Spike’s mouth, her tears flowing freely over both their faces. Running her hands up to rest on his chest, she broke away, only to place a light kiss on his cheek. He’d tried to be good. Spike’s eyes widened as Buffy closed the distance between them, and her mouth met his. He could feel her tears spilling out over his face, and he returned the kiss as hard as he could while his own joined hers. This had to be a goodbye. When Buffy pulled away, he felt hollow, empty. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and stared up at him, her hands still alighted gently on his chest. “Spike, I—“ Buffy whispered. “You know what, pet? Just forget I said it.” Spike pushed away from her, heading for the chair in the corner to grab his things. How could he have been so stupid? “Spike. I don’t… I don’t love you.” Buffy murmured, watching his shoulders slump and his head hang down. She took a step forward, closing some of the distance between them until she was mere inches away. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she forced him to turn around to face her again. Spike avoided her eyes, his own blues focused on the floor. “I don’t think I… think I can. Not yet. It’s… too soon, after Angel. After Angelus. I can’t love you… yet. But…” Buffy inhaled shakily. “I think I’d be willing to give it a shot, you know… If… if you wanted to?” Spike glanced up at the girl standing in front of him, his eyes wide. Did she just… “Buffy, love… are you sure? Do you really mean…?” His voice was low, husky. Buffy didn’t answer. Instead she stood up on her toes again and pressed a soft, yet demanding kiss to his mouth. She pressed her lips twice more to his as she pulled away, and smiled up at him softly. “I’m sure, Spike. I’m willing to try… to try and love you. I am.” Spike beamed at her, throwing his arms around her and pulling her up off the floor to crush his mouth to hers. Feeling her giggle joyfully against him, he rumbled deep in his throat, and his hands slid down to cup and grip her ass. Buffy’s legs slid up his legs and folded around his hips and her hands rested on his cheeks. Running one hand around to tangle in his platinum hair, Buffy moaned loudly. God he felt so good. Stumbling towards the bed, Spike dropped Buffy onto it and fell on top of her, managing to do so without breaking away from her mouth. He smiled against her lips as she moaned throatily. He was going to take it slow. Raining kisses over her jaw, her forehead and her cheeks, Spike kissed her nose before meeting her mouth again. Feeling her hot lips press against his cool ones, he couldn’t help the low growl that ripped through him. Tentatively, he let his tongue trace the shape of her lower lip, and pushed it into her mouth as she sighed in response. The long, languid kisses Spike was treating her too were driving Buffy mad. She pressed her lower half against him, trying to wrap her legs back around him, but he maneuvered his hips so her knees were trapped beneath him as he ground lightly, slowly against her. She felt his hands slide over her waist to hold her hips, and she gasped as he cold hands slid under her top to caress the soft skin of her sides and lower back. Pulling away from her mouth to let her gain her breath, Spike moved to press kisses along her jaw and down to the hollow base of her throat. “Buffy…” “Spike… please.” Buffy whimpered as he pressed a kiss to her throat and another to her hammering pulse point. “I want you. I… need you.” Spike pulled away so she could see his smile, and he was rewarded with a dazzling grin so happy he almost wept. She was with him, here. She was truly with him. Kissing her collarbone, Spike slid his tongue up her neck and behind her ear, reveling in the shivers dancing down her spine. He ran his hands up over her sides, dragging her shirt up with them. Breaking away from her skin to pull her top over her head, Spike crushed his lips to hers, pushing his tongue slowly into her mouth again. Groaning, he squeezed a naked breast and rolled the nipple between his thumb and finger, pinching it to a rosy nub. “Oh, God. Spike…” Buffy moaned, arching into his palm as his mouth traveled down to her other nipple. “Please…” “It’s alright, love.” Spike whispered, his breathe brushing against her hardening nipple. “I’ve got you.” He pressed a light kiss against her sternum before sliding up her body to press one to the base of her throat, to her chin, up to the slight bump of her nose, her forehead, her chin again and finally, her lips. “I’ve got you.” Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled her shorts down, and slid his length over her slit, against her clit. With a sigh, Buffy let her legs fall open, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, sliding them down to drag his pants off of him. Kicking the denim off, Spike angled himself above her and slowly pushed himself into the hilt. The two blondes gasped in union at the feeling of fulfillment… of being complete. Spike dropped his head onto Buffy’s shoulder, and inhaled a shaky breath before beginning to move, slowly pumping in and out of her hot, quivering centre. “I’ve... Got… You.” Spike breathed with every slow, loving thrust. Buffy arched beneath him as he circled her clit with his finger. She gasped as he kissed her again, and he felt her edging the precipice, close to climax. “Slayer… Are you with me? Are you with me, love?” Buffy reached up and tangled her fingers in his blonde hair, tugging his head demandingly down to her neck. He kissed and suckled on her pulse point again, and she pushed harder against his head. There was no mistaking the invitation. Face morphing, Spike let out a feral snarl and sank his teeth into her golden, buttery flesh, taking long, deep pulls of the Slayer’s blood. The feeling was extraordinary. Having him inside her, filling her up completely… his fangs… his cock… both buried deep inside her. Even as she felt him drink, draining her, she had never felt so full… so complete. This was everything. As Spike took a fifth, long pull of her blood, Buffy felt her inner walls clench around him, and she cried out in sweet, agonizing release. Spike felt her walls strangling his cock, and pulled his teeth out of her flesh, licking the wound closed as his face reverted back to its human visage. He watched Buffy as she came down, still slowly pumping inside her. He took in her too-bright eyes, her flushed cheeks… her heavy breasts and soft, happy smile. Bloody hell. She was beautiful. “Are you with me, Buffy?” He murmured. Buffy reached up and touched a hand softly to his razor sharp cheekbone, her fingers brushing lightly against his temple. Her smile was sweet and content as she whispered back to him. “Always.” And with that, Spike came. *************************************************************************************************** NB: This is the second last chapter, and I will post the last one as soon as I feel like I'm getting a good response XP Yes, I know I'm cruel. |
| Chapter #13 - Epilogue |
| Epilogue Buffy woke up enveloped in soft cotton sheets, the material pleasantly cool against her naked skin. She was nuzzled against the firm body of her bedmate, her leg thrown possessively over his hips, her arm around his waist and her head resting on his chest. Spike’s arms were wrapped around her, and the fingertips brushing up and down her shoulder and upper arm told her he was awake too. A smile touched her lips as she remembered the last few conscious moments of the night before. Spike had rained kisses over her face and neck as he came, pressing a tender, loving kiss to her mouth before pulling out and rolling off of her. Hearing her soft whimper at the sudden emptiness, Spike had covered them both with the sheets and pulled her into his arms. The last thing she remembered was his lips pressing softly against the top of her head as she drifted off to sleep. Spike knew immediately when the girl in his arms woke up, feeling and hearing the change in her breathing and in her heart rate, feeling her eyelashes flutter against his bare chest. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he exalted over the feeling of her in his arms. This was so different from anything he’d experienced before. When he was with Drusilla, he never woke with her curled against him. He’d find her chatting with her bloody dolls or off fawning over Angelus. Never with him. They were never together. Not truly. When Buffy had first become a bedmate, it had been hurrying away and the return to clothes. To what she considered normalcy. But now, she was lying comfortably with him, completely relaxed. This is what a relationship was. What love was. He’d never felt so happy, so content, and as utterly whole as he did now. He’d stopped himself from saying he loved her during their love-making last night, so as not to scare her. But she was so comfortable in his arms, underneath, undulating with him, he felt as if she knew he’d thought it, and she’d accepted it. She’d accepted him. Buffy wriggled in Spike’s grip to look up at his face, smiling. He beamed down at her, his blue eyes sparkling. God, he had such beautiful, honest eyes. She shimmied up to press a kiss to his slightly bewildered mouth and grinned at him. “Good morning.” “Actually, pet. It’s evening.” Spike smiled, kissing her again. His arms tightened around her as he let that sink in. “Friday… evening?” Buffy groaned, running a hand over her forehead, brushing hair out of her eyes. “I completely forgot about the Sabbath.” “Well, I should hope so.” Spike joked lightly. “If you’d been thinking about that last night, I wouldn’t have done my job right.” “Oh, no, job definitely done right. Promotions all round.” Buffy assured him with a kiss to his throat, running her fingertips absently over his chest. When they flickered over a nipple, Spike groaned, his jaw tightening, making Buffy blush. “Whoops. Sorry.” “Never apologize.” Spike murmured against her collarbone before he shook his head, exasperated. “Sabbath, love.” “Right. Sabbath. The Bad Thing.” Buffy nodded, before sighing, “I should probably get back for that. You know, being all defender-y and all.” “You don’t want to go back, love?” Spike furrowed his brow as he looked down at her. For the last… five days, all she had been talking about was heading back to SunnyHell. “Do you?” Buffy glanced up at him, hoping the nerves she suddenly felt wouldn’t show in her eyes. “Do I… what?” “Want to head back to Sunnydale, Home of the Hellmouth, vampires and Scooby Gang?” Buffy said it slowly, like she was talking to a very dull six year old. “You… you want me to come back with you?” Spike reiterated, startled. Buffy suddenly looked extremely shy. “Well… yeah. I mean, I told you I wanted to… to try and… love you, and I can’t really do that if you are in Brazil of Mexico or whatever. You’d kind of need to be around, you know? Spend some time with me. With my Mom and… and with the Scoobies.” “You want me to be around your friends? Your family?” Spike pulled away slightly, angling himself so he could look her in the eye. He couldn’t believe it. She really wanted to be with him. “You really want that pet?” “If you’re going to be a part of my life, be that part of my life, then yeah. I’m sick of secrets and dark corners. I want my boyfriend to be comfortable around the other people I love.” Buffy lowered her head shyly, and couldn’t resist playfully biting at his shoulder. Spike groaned as her teeth scraped lightly over his bare skin, and he closed his eyes briefly before opening them and meeting hers. “…Boyfriend?” “Yeah…. Boyfriend.” Buffy flushed, before pressing her lips to his again. Pulling away, she saw the blind, disbelieving joy that sparked in Spike’s eyes and lit up his face. Giggling, she let him swoop down and crush his lips to hers with a force reminiscent of both the night in the bar and the night they’d had last night. He was a walking contradiction. And she liked that. Spike pulled away slowly, dragging Buffy’s bottom lip with him. Tucking a stray piece of hair tenderly behind her ear, he let his hand linger for a few moments. “Why did you come here, Buffy?” He asked quietly, a small smile touching his lips, question burning like blue fire in his eyes. Buffy grinned at him, replying mischievously, “To tell you I wouldn’t come here.” Spike chuckled at her reference, and brushed a thumb over her mouth. His breath hitching as she sucked it into her mouth and bit it playfully. “Okay… then why did you stay?” “Um…” Buffy smiled sheepishly up at him, her eyes catching the cardboard sign on top of the unused television. “…Free cable?” THE END *********************************************************************************************** Author's Bit: First of all, thanks to all those readers that stuck with the story, I love you. Also, I was thinking of a sequel, if only to continue with the black Sabbath part, because my mind is stuck on it at the moment. Please review, your comments mean so much to me =D (I know the ending with the title thing seems to be pattern for me but I promise its not, just a coincidence. I couldn't pass it up.) Love. |