Buffy grabbed at him desperately, starved of physical contact for so long. She became barely aware of her surroundings, of Spike, her body fixed solely on what it wanted. Her arms snaked around his neck bringing him closer, as they crushed lips. She had never been kissed like this before – with wild abandonment. It wasn’t perfect; it wasn’t the best kiss of her life. It was messy and reckless and ferocious. More like a fight then a declaration of love.

She wasn’t under any illusions that it was that at all. It wasn’t love. And she was glad. As much as she needed, wanted, hungered for love what she craved right then was unadulterated lust. She needed to feel wanted. To feel desirable. To have someone, anyone, grab at her, touch her, kiss her, fuck her.

Spike’s tongue pressed against hers, his hands roving unconsciously up and down her body. He yanked at her clothing, forcing her to release her hold on him as he stripped off her jacket. She opened her eyes, watching him as he ripped her shirt open. Buttons flew everywhere and the cool, dank air settled over her completely exposed torso.

Buffy had lost so much weight recently that she often didn’t wear a bra. From the way Spike’s eyes lit up he clearly appreciated it. Without hesitation his hands found their way to her breasts. The coldness of his skin made her gasp, her nipples hardening in response. He ran his thumbs over them, gently. She sighed in delight, feeling things lower down in her body tighten. Her heart was hammering in her chest as he lowered his face to kiss her neck. Fear ran through her, pulsating, making it feel like the veins in her neck were throbbing against his touch. She was afraid but she didn’t mind. Fear was good. The fear that he would rip her throat open let her know that she was still alive.

Spike’s kisses trailed lower, over her collarbone, until he reached her breasts. Slowly, he drew one hard nipple into his mouth. Buffy groaned and closed her eyes, her hips arching upwards into his. His cock pressed hard against her thigh, her clothing being the only thing separating their skin. Spike let his tongue tease around her nipple, before it darted forward to lick the sensitive spot. She grabbed his hair, her hand tangling in it, and pushed his head down harder onto her.

As he continued to lick and kiss her breasts his hands made their way down to her zipper. Deftly, he had her jeans undone and half way down her hips before she even realised what he was doing. It should have freaked her out. It should have been the wake up call. She should have punched him in the face and ran. Except she didn’t. She couldn’t. As much as she wanted to have the moral high ground, to do the right thing, to be the champion everyone thought she was or should be, sometimes she was just a girl. This had nothing to do with her job. She was the Slayer and he was a vampire but that didn’t matter just then. She was content to just be Buffy, for a while.

And Buffy needed this.

She was free of her pants in no time at all, and Spike wasted not another second before clawing her underwear off. The Slayer squirmed as his eyes swept over her, she felt out of her element, uncomfortable with herself and his attention. He placed his hands on her stomach and then very slowly, very deliberately, moved them down over her body.

Buffy squirmed away from his touch, no longer so sure. Spike shook his head, grabbing her thighs and pulling her back to him. He clamped his hands down on her stop her from trying to escape again. As much as she wanted to be touched, in her brief and amateur sexual experience no one had been as rough and callous and crude as Spike. He saw what he wanted and he took it, no whispered ‘are you sure?’ no gentle and tender touches.

He didn’t pretend to care about her. Simply wanted her for his needs. And, in that, he showed a kind of openness, a brutal honesty that Buffy had never experienced with anyone before. Everyone had a secret agenda, wanted more than they would admit.

Buffy knew with perfect clarity what Spike wanted because it was the same thing she wanted. To feel, to fuck, and to fight. They locked eyes and Spike smiled.

Buffy arched an eyebrow, a new found understanding and brazenness taking over her. She reached her hands up and placed them against his chest. She didn’t feel his heart beating, but then she was used to that. She ran her hands down his stomach and abdomen. Just revelling in the feel of a man again. She had only ever had one sexual partner and that had been soft, a series of gentle caresses, exploring one another with infinite curiosity. Buffy reached down and grabbed him. She wasn’t interested in exploring him, she’d found the part of him she wanted. Spike closed his eyes and issued a sound of contentment at the feel of her touching him.

Buffy ran her hand down the length of him, he was cold and hard but his skin was silken. She felt him throb in her palm and looked up into his cool blue eyes. There was something there mixed with the desire and she couldn’t exactly place what it was. He reached up and stroked her cheek and Buffy, curious and unsure, just watched his face as he did. Then he frowned as if he too wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing. He removed his hand from her face and placed it back on her leg, parting her knees and nestling himself in-between. Buffy could feel him pressed up against her and her pulse started to race again.

She thought he’d be a talker, murmuring all sorts of sleaze about her and what he was going to do but he remained stoic. Maybe he was as overwhelmed as she was, or maybe he was having second thoughts about being anywhere near her. Spike slid a finger inside of her, making her hold her breath. It was an entirely different sensation to being touched on the outside, the sensations it caused in her sent ripples throughout her body. As quickly as it had started he withdrew the finger and the feelings left with it. Buffy growled in disappointment. Apparently he had merely been seeing if she was ready for him. Trust him to be an evil tease.

The moment she thought that, he thrust himself into her. It had been a surprise, her mind not totally focused on what he was doing. And it was fast and hard and not hardly pleasurable for her. Spike groaned above her, eyes fixed on hers. A small sound escaped her throat, one of pain and shock. He tilted his head and withdrew, before entering again but this time softer yet no less fast. Buffy felt his fingers entwine with hers and simply watched as he drew her hands up above her head and pinned them to the bed. She knew the risks of letting him have so much control, knew that in a split second he could have bitten her. The worse thing was she really didn’t care that much.

As he pounded into her, Spike bowed down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. His chest rubbed against her breasts spreading the thin sheen of sweat from her skin onto his own. His mouth trailed down her jawbone, landing in the small dent behind her ear and nuzzling against her. She closed her eyes and wrapped her legs around his waist tightly.

The friction between them at this angle was incredibly and both of them let out small sounds of mutual gratification. Spike kissed a line down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. She imagined them right over the throbbing vein, elongating, ready to strike.

Instead he kissed her gently on her shoulder, leaving his lips there.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

It echoed the order he had given her last night, wanting her to look at herself in the mirror. She did as he asked and all she could see of him was the side of his head, as his face was over her shoulder. How he had known she had her eyes closed Buffy wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

He wanted her to be a fully active participant in this. Well, then she would be. She pushed against his hands and broke free of his hold relatively easily, and from the way he drew his face up to look at her Buffy knew she had surprised him with her strength. Maybe he even thought she had changed her mind, the worried little-boy-lost look in his eyes certainly seemed to suggest so.

She took his face in her hands and traced her fingers down his cheekbones, his jaw line, running the tip of a finger over his soft bottom lip. Spike opened his mouth and drew her finger in as she moved her hips up against his. The inside of his mouth was cool and moist; his tongue ran down her digit in a line making her shiver. The coolness of his body produced goose bumps all over her; she removed her finger and placed her hands on his shoulders, digging her nails into him.

Spike began to thrust faster and faster, become more and more violent. She knew she’d be bruised inside later, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the emptiness of the room. Somewhere in the distance the sound of water dripping entered her peripheral hearing and soon left it when Spike let out a feral growl. Buffy looked up at him and he was in vamp face, gone were the deep blue eyes replaced by angry gold. His once smooth forehead was now covered in deep furrowed ridges, his teeth elongated and sharp as a viper’s. She expected this to be the end. Mess with an evil vampire and you’re messing with death. She closed her eyes and waited for it, and in some ways, welcomed it. There would be worse ways to go, and it would be befitting for her to go out this way. In a violent embrace of sex and blood and bodily fluids.

What will Giles say when he finds my corpse? What about mom?

Except the moment dragged on too long and he was still thrusting into her hard and unrelenting like he wanted to hurt her from the inside out. Buffy opened her eyes and his face was smooth and beautiful again. Like she had imagined it all. Maybe she did. Maybe she was going mad. She didn’t know, only knew what she felt and what she felt was Spike.

A wave started to build inside her and she threw her head back waiting for it. He slammed into her, running a trail of kisses all over her again, whispered filthy nothings into her ear. She knew he’d be a talker. She knew it.

Spike reached a hand down and brushed his finger over her clit, a ragged sound emerged from her lips and the wave in her started to build and get higher and wider with every small stroke of his finger. She was moments from being consumed by it. Spike kissed her savagely before slamming into her one last time.

Their release came simultaneously, both arching their backs and crying out in ecstasy.

Buffy felt as though, for a moment, she was okay. Her life was okay, she was just Buffy Summers, she didn’t have anything in particular to worry about. It was all right to be alive. For that little while at least.

Spike drew himself out of her and flopped down on bed next to her. She didn’t look at him, didn’t really look at anything. She lay naked on the bed and she wasn’t even self-conscious because he didn’t matter. This had never been about Spike, really. It had been about her. She had needed to feel like this, had needed someone to want to be with her.

“God, Slayer,” he groaned, “Might not kill you after all.”

She took a few long shuddering breaths, and glanced over at him. He was grinning widely staring up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling erratically out of habit as if he felt the need to act human. She looked away when he turned to her. The problem with this all was that she had to deal with it now. Everything had consequences, even if she wished they’d just go away. He was Spike. He liked to brag. There was no way he’d keep his mouth shut about this.

Buffy sat up and grabbed the bedcovers, wrapping them around her so he couldn’t look at her back. She bent down and grabbed up her jacket, rifling through the pockets.

The Slayer turned and looked at him over her shoulder “Sorry, Spike, but I can’t return the favour.”

She held up the stake gripped tightly in her hand.