Spike just stared at the Slayer for a long moment in utter shock. Had he really heard her correctly? Surely she didn’t really mean…

But she was still giving him that wicked, enticing smile, a challenge in her sparkling green eyes, as she lifted one of the chains and dangled it playfully in her hand. “Well?” she said expectantly, her eyebrows raised.

*It must be a Slayer thing,* he thought absently, mesmerized by the lustful look in her eyes and the powerful scent of her arousal that filled his senses. *Who would have thought little Goldilocks here would have a thing for bondage?* he thought. *Or vamps, for that matter!*

But he could hear her heartbeat speeding up as she waited for his response, toying with the chain in her hands, and the look on her face told him that she was not the least bit afraid. The thought of chaining him to her bed, having him at her mercy to do whatever she wanted with him, was clearly exciting to her.

It was exciting to him, too.

A small, rational part of his mind acknowledged that it was a terribly reckless, foolish thing to do. The Slayer was much stronger than he was at the moment, he had to admit. And he knew from the night before and his futile attempts, that the chains in her hands were too strong for him to break.

For him, William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, to willingly allow himself to be bound and helpless, at the mercy of a Slayer with whom his relationship was volatile and precarious at best, whose particular fantasies and desires were as yet unknown, and who would then be free to do absolutely anything she wanted to him, with him unable to do anything about it – it was utter insanity.

He had done it before, he shrugged inwardly…and *that* Slayer had been criminally insane!

With a suggestive smirk, he made his decision and stepped deliberately toward her, holding out his wrists to her for the chains.

Her smile widened, and she dropped the chain, turning to face him completely. Then she grabbed him without warning and slung him around, forcefully throwing him onto the bed on his back. The mattress was soft, but the sheer speed of the move was dizzying, and before he could recover enough to even realize where he was, she was sitting on him, her knees on either side of his chest as she leaned over him to lock his wrists firmly into the manacles.

The close-up view of her body through the thin cotton t-shirt she wore as she leaned over him, the intoxicating scent of her desire, so near to his face, and finally the cool feeling of the metal snapping around his wrists, knowing that it was done…there was no turning back now...it was pure sensory overload, and he felt himself hardening with his desire for her.

Once she was satisfied that he was firmly restrained, she smiled down at him wickedly. “Well,” she said, her voice a low husky whisper, as she raised up off of him on her hands and knees, reaching a hand down to trace the bulge in the front of his pants with her fingertips, in a torturously slow, light contact that made him gasp for breath, desperate for more. “Now that I’ve got you where I want you…what ever am I going to do with you?”

“Buffy!” he gasped out, groaning with mingled pleasure and agony at the soft, barely there touch of her fingers over the straining fabric of his jeans. “Oh, God, *Buffy*!”

Her hand stopped moving instantly, and she leaned back up over him, her other hand covering his mouth tightly. “Shhh,” she whispered sharply, a dangerous light in her eyes. “This has got to be our little secret…if the others knew…” Her smile slipped a little at that thought, but then she forced a careless shrug. “Well, we just can’t let them know, can we?”

Her question was leading, and he shook his head no, fighting back a moan at the very thought of the secrecy she was requiring -- which somehow made the whole thing that much more exciting – and the soft, hot touch of her hand on his lips.

Even so, he knew that a part of her was serious about staying quiet, and he knew that she was right. For anyone in this house to hear them, to discover what they were doing, could only end in disaster. Buffy might be disowned completely by her friends and her Watcher, and he would most certainly end up dust. So the idea of this little rendezvous taking place in complete silence was actually a very wise one.

But Buffy did not make it sound as if any of that was on her mind.

“No matter what happens,” she whispered with a little smirk, suddenly beginning the slow movement of her other hand again, but applying more pressure this time so that he had to fight not to cry out. “Don’t make a sound.” She paused, her smile widening slightly as she added suggestively, “Or I just might have to punish you.”

*Bloody hell!* He wondered what Buffy’s idea of “punishment” would be, but he was more certain by the moment that he would not be able to last the night without finding out.

Still, he nodded his agreement with her command, and she removed her hand from his mouth, rewarding him with a slow, deep kiss, her warm hands roving over his chest as she did, occasionally scraping her long fingernails across his skin, sending shivers down his spine with every touch.

Buffy slowly pulled back from the kiss, giving him a warm, seductive smile as she moved down the bed to rest on her knees, just below his aching erection. She took her time, unbuckling his black leather belt and sliding it out of the loops of his jeans, taking a moment to regard the strip of worn leather, doubling it over and snapping it quickly in her hand, as if testing it.

She smiled and arched one perfect brow at him suggestively. She set the belt down carefully to the side, as if wanting to remember exactly where she had put it, and then set about unzipping his jeans and sliding them slowly down over his hips and off his legs to toss them onto the floor.

She smirked, raising her eyebrows, but not really surprised, to find nothing under the jeans. “Hmm…” she murmured, her voice barely over a whisper; she knew that he could hear her just fine. “I’m not surprised you’re a commando guy,” she teased, tracing her finger lightly around the base of his throbbing member, leaning up to whisper with a teasing sparkle in her eyes, “Slut.” At that exact moment, she allowed one perfectly manicured nail to scrape against his sensitive flesh, and he could not help releasing a low moan of pleasure.

Immediately her left hand was over his mouth again…and more importantly her right hand was *off* of his dick, as she raised up to look him in the eye and say in a voice that was both slightly threatening and seductive, “I thought I told you not to make a sound. I’d hate to have to punish you.”

His eyes automatically drifted to the belt she had laid to the side, and he felt a little thrill of mingled pleasure and fear to see that her fingers idly, unconsciously trailed up the leather as she spoke.

“Or,” she shrugged casually, her voice a husky whisper, her eyes flickering down to his rigid, engorged member for a moment before she smirked back up at him. “I could just… stop. Completely.”

He shook his head almost frantically at that idea, his wide blue eyes focused on hers.

“Okay…so you’re gonna be quiet now?” she asked him, slowly and a little patronizingly, nodding her head leadingly.

He nodded his silent response. She had him now; he would do *anything* she said to keep her from stopping at this point, and the cruel little gleam in her desire darkened eyes of jade told him that she very well might carry through with her threat.

Satisfied for the moment, she resumed her slow torture of light, delicate touches that drove him closer and closer to the edge, while refusing to give him that last push that he needed. He wanted to tell her what he wanted, bloody hell, *beg* her if that was what it took…but he dared not make a sound.

As she slowly increased the pressure she exerted with her right hand, she caught his eye with a slow smile as she reached with her left to begin unbuttoning the buttons of her shirt. He watched, mesmerized, as she slid the shirt back over her shoulders, arching her back slightly to give him a better view. When she removed her hand to take the shirt completely off, and to unfasten her bra, a small whimpering sound escaped his throat, for only a fraction of a second, at the combination of the sight of her, and the loss of contact.

Her eyes shot to his, and he felt his stomach drop at the look in her eyes that was both wild and severe; he shook his head slightly at her to indicate that he would not make another sound. She regarded him for a moment, as if trying to decide what exactly to do to him, and then a slow smile spread across her face and her eyes lit up.

He felt a chill go down his spine and a rush of heat to his groin in anticipation of what she would do.

She rose to whisper in his ear, her fingers running slowly through his hair, her nails grazing his scalp and sending pleasurable little tingles all through him. “You want me to touch you, Spike? Is that what you meant?”

He hesitated, then nodded desperately, urgently.

“Then maybe you should have behaved yourself,” she teased him, tugging lightly at his hair before releasing him and sitting up, straddling his waist now. “Now…you’re just gonna have to wait.” She leaned down over him, her hands resting on the mattress on either side of his head. “My turn,” she whispered. “I want you to touch me, Spike.” Her firm, supple breasts were inches from his face, taunting and tantalizing him with her nearness, and his inability to touch her.

“Oh,” she said, looking at the chains that bound him as if surprised. “You can’t use your hands, can you?” She shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to make do with what you’ve got. And if you do a *really* good job,” she smirked. “*Maybe* I’ll forgive you.”

He ached for her hands to finish what they had so heartlessly started, and then abandoned, leaving him desperate and longing, and he strained against the chains that bound him, wanting to break free and grab her in his arms and take her, sod the bloody game!

But the chains were too strong, and besides, her breasts were hovering above his face, inviting and tantalizing him.

It was her turn to let out a gasp of pleasure as he took her left breast in his mouth, gently suckling at her, using his talented tongue and teeth to make her moan with pleasure, unconsciously thrusting downward against his stomach beneath her. He smiled briefly and gave her a light, teasing little nip that made her draw in her breath sharply.

“Spike…oh…” she gasped. “Oh, God…”

After a few moments, she pulled back, her eyes wide and a little shocked, her wet, glossy lips trembling slightly, and he flashed her an impish grin, pleased that he had managed to reduce her to such a state, from the relatively powerless position he was in.

After a few seconds she managed to recover enough to smile shakily and comment, “Wow. You’re forgiven,” with a soft laugh.

As she slowly lowered herself back down his body, her hot, wet center hovering over his throbbing erection, he realized with dismay that she was still wearing her skirt, and thought with despair that if he had to wait for her to take it off…

But she simply slid it up around her waist, and he realized with surprise that the Slayer had come prepared as well, and wore nothing under her skirt.

He raised one eyebrow at her in a patented smirk, silently mocking her. And then, not so silently, as he repeated her teasing comment from a few moments before upon discovering his similar condition, and whispered, “Slut.”

She smiled, and he could tell that she was suppressing a laugh, as she sat up and reached for the belt, picking it up and looking at it closely for a moment, before bringing it down behind her back, sharply against his thigh. The light, stinging blow, carrying very little of her actual strength, sent a rush of pleasure through him, and she smirked in smug satisfaction when she felt his already erect member twitch beneath her.

“Shhh,” she ordered in a whisper, setting down the belt and going back to her hands and knees, positioned directly over him again. “You’re being very, very bad,” she murmured in a voice of mock severity, allowing her slick opening to brush lightly over the tip of his erection, eliciting another unconscious gasp from his mouth.

“See?” she whispered, shaking her head. “You just keep it up, don’t you?” A teasing glint in her eyes, her mouth turned downward in a pout, she said, “I don’t know if you deserve your reward.”

She repeated the motion, lowering herself just slightly onto him again before pulling back, and he bit back the cry that rose to his lips.

“Now that’s better,” she murmured. “Maybe if you try really hard…” She smiled wickedly, and gave him a wink. “Or maybe…” she whispered. “…if you ask really nice…”

His eyes widened with the realization of what she was saying, just before she brushed against him again, and he groaned, “Oh…God…oh…Buffy, Buffy, please! I need you now, Buffy…I need to be…inside you, oh…oh God, please, Buffy!” As he spoke, she continued her teasing to the point of desperation.

For both of them.

Driven to the point of no return herself by his desperate plea, Buffy finally complied, yielding to him the contact that he craved, sheathing him within her, and in that moment of connection, they each had to fight back the cry of pleasure that would have drawn the attention of the people sleeping on either side of them.

They moved together in perfect unison, driving each other higher and higher, all the while fighting to maintain control and keep back the uncontrollable sounds of pleasure that rose within them. Their muffled gasps and whimpers, the enforced silence, only served to intensify the feeling for both of them, until at the exact same moment they reached their climax in an explosion of intense pleasure that overwhelmed them.

Buffy collapsed down onto him, gasping for breath, struggling to recover from the incredible force of her orgasm.

Spike was obviously having a similar reaction. “God!” he gasped. “Buffy…oh, Buffy…”

She raised her head quickly to face him, her eyes wild with passion and desire. “Shut up,” she whispered, putting her hands behind his head and pulling him close to silence him with a kiss.