He was crouching across from her, doing his own balancing-like-a-cat act on the edge while he studied something—or someone—on the ground below the ledge. Buffy didn’t need to be curious. She’d bet money Angel was down there. Probably doing some saving the helpless gig that he’d left her to do.
She jumped when he started talking. She was just enough to the side to see the changes of his face each time the melodic nature of his voice altered and she was sucked into the sheer ridiculous humour of him. Okay, so he’d managed to surprise her. No way would she have been able to predict that the cutting edge of his tongue—so often slashing her to pieces—could let a combination of words fall that made her want to join in with encouraging giggles. Oh yeah, she must still be really pissed at Angel, no matter how much she had planned on giving him the ring.
“How can I thank you, you mysterious, black-clad hunk of a night thing?” falsetto Spike asked. Then his voice deepened and Buffy felt that rumble vibrate way down low. “No need, little lady, your tears of gratitude are enough for me. You see, I was once a badass vampire, but love and a pesky curse defanged me. Now I’m just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth.”
Oh my God, he’s flipped. Gone totally freaky! But the American accent…
Buffy desperately clapped a hand over her mouth, the insane urge to snicker almost overwhelming as she watched Spike parody Angel—and she so didn’t want to contemplate why she thought it was funny. Not when he was supposed to be the love of her life. She took a few silent steps closer, wanting to see the sight over the side of the building that inspired Spike’s uncharacteristic sideshow act.
“No, not the hair! Never the hair!” Spike mimicked, and Buffy couldn’t help but nod. Angel was way too serious about the thick locks. There was no counting the number of times he’d stopped a heavy smooching session to bat her hands away from his precious hair. “But there must be someway I can show my appreciation.”
Wha? That ho-bag down there is getting all flirty and wanting to show appreciation? Why, I’ll show her appreciation!
Buffy peered over the ledge, keeping Spike in the corner of her eye until she saw the trashy blonde wannabe trying to get all close and personal to her ex. And then the sight of Angel—and his obvious back step from a possible groupie—made Buffy stop and wonder why the usual frenetic dance of her heart was so obviously absent. Spike should have been onto her for that alone, so it was probably lucky that Buffy was filled to the brim with righteous anger.
“No, helping those in need’s my job—and working up a load of sexual tension, and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough!”
Buffy snorted with laughter as she lifted up a heavy metal pole lying conveniently at her feet. Her stealth act had been blown, but Spike of the uber ookey sensitivities was obviously too immersed in character to notice.
“I understand. I have a nephew who is gay, so—”
Ooh, ooh, wide eyes. Though she really could get where Spike got the prancing thing from.
“Say no more. Evil’s still afoot! And I’m almost out of that Nancy-boy hair-gel that I like so much. Quickly, to the Angel-mobile, away!”
That was it—all she could take. Buffy lifted the bar and with another snort of appreciation for his Angel imitation, she brought it clunking down on his overly thick head with an enthusiastic and hearty whack. Eyes wide with delayed recognition, Spike hit the deck like a sack of potatoes and Buffy peered into the dark just in time to see the blonde hightail it after her ex-soulmate-first-undying love.
“That rat fink bastard! He so doesn’t deserve invulnerability. Not when a good kick to the ‘not-so-happy’ sack of love is on the cards.” Buffy glared at the retreating figures and growled. He’d used her once and ditched her to play evil boy without boundaries, and it would seem she’d fallen into a pattern of being abused by gutless jerks. And Spike just had to go and be a witness to her second humiliation—not that he hadn’t already seen and witnessed enough of her first. And in typical idiot Spike fashion, he’d opened his mouth too wide and spewed out completely crappy observations about her so not dimpled knees. And to imply that no one would want her more than once…her lower lip wobbled as Buffy contemplated that possibility and then decided she’d show him exactly what someone would be begging to have her more than once for.
Begging. That was the sweetest image she’d had for a while. There was a slightly unhinged glint in her eye as Buffy looked down at her subject. She’d known that he’d expect her to send the ring to Angel. She fought against the blush that indicated that maybe she was treading as close to that side of the predictable line as Spike was, and made a decision. Sure, she’d followed to make certain Angel wasn’t at an unfair disadvantage from a surprise attack, but Buffy was in the mood to create a little damage. Get a little payback on all these men that thought they could leave/ use/ insult her. She didn’t have Angel or Parker right now, and Spike was of the undead persuasion and so perfect to take the punishment of all three of them.
“Okay, Mr. Predictable. You are so gonna squeak to a different tune when I’m done with you.” Her grin was feral as she hoisted his sleek body over her back and she felt strangely comforted by the smooth cold leather that caped past her cheek. That and the strong air pressure as she jumped from the building and landed in a crouch next to Oz. Unfortunately she wasn’t so used to carrying a body when she did the cat thingy and Spike went head first into the pavement in front of her. Buffy lifted almost glittering eyes to Oz and burst into hysterical laughter.
“Oops,” she snuffled before dissolving into mirth. She so hadn’t expected any of the funny when she’d embarked on this trip. Oz’s lips cracked into an amused smile and Buffy tumbled to her knees.
“Stop,” she called out, even though Oz wasn’t doing anything and Spike was even more unconscious than he’d been before. “It’s too much,” Buffy struggled to say as she thumped the sidewalk with her flattened palm and howled until tears leaked from her eyes.
“Sure,” Oz replied, casting a wary glance around them and waited patiently for Buffy to calm down. He’d tried to say as little as possible on the trip down as she’d been in a weird mood. Now she was starting to scare him. “Need a hand?” Might be best if he got her to where she wanted to go so he could jet.
Buffy looked at Spike’s sprawled form on the cement and pushed herself back to her feet. “That would be really great,” she said amongst residual giggles and managed to get a grip on Spike’s coat, and then under his armpits, and carried him with Oz’s help to the van.
They both climbed back into the front, Buffy watching as Oz pushed the cassette back into the deck and laughed her way to the hotel to the backdrop of Kenny G.
“He’s calming,” he told her, completely ignoring her weakened resistance to sanity as she set off on another burst of high humour. Refusing to look sideways, Oz drove on, sighing in deep relief once the hotel came into sight and then again when he parked in front of the previously booked room. No words needed to be exchanged as he helped Buffy carry her prisoner into the room, dumping him on the bed as there was a severe shortage of chairs.
“This is perfect, Oz. Thanks so much for the help. I’m gonna spend a glorious weekend teaching Spike here that it’s just not good planning to steal a ring of invulnerability only to waste it taunting the Slayer.”
Oz nodded. “Or you could, like, stake him.”
Buffy’s grin was several hundreds of wattage bright. “Oh, I’m gonna. Don’t you worry about that. See you late tomorrow night when we head back.” She felt the urge to emphasise the extra needage of hours for…severe punishment…and with the staking.
Nodding thrice, Oz placed a ring on the battered dresser beside Buffy’s bag of tricks and headed out and back to the land of sense making. It felt almost alien after being with Buffy for the past so many hours. He started the van and was gone, Buffy closing the door decidedly behind him, turning the key on the inside of the room and sneering once the lock had clicked.
Now it was playtime.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
He couldn’t move his arms, his head felt like it had taken a dive into something harder than Acathla, and his ears were ringing from the peculiar sound of female hysteria.
Slayer.
Spike could smell her and he suddenly remembered the last vision he’d had before being conked on the head by another presumptuous, overly brave Summers woman—only this time it wasn’t with an axe. For which he was more than bloody grateful. An accidental twist of the wrist and Fright Night here we bleeding well come.
The Slayer’s heartbeat was erratic and enough to drive him barmy, but Spike determinedly kept his eyes closed, needing to work out what the bint was up to if he had half a chance of making it out of wherever he was undusty.
“Awwww, poor widdle Spikey’s all chained up. And knocked out too! Geez, a girl just doesn’t know her own strength these days. So, you won’t mind if I get a sneak peek, do you? I mean, what else is there for a girl to do in a hotel room with nothing but a vampire chained to her bed but to explore?”
She paused and Spike was left reeling, wondering if she suspected he was really awake and so expecting him to answer. He hadn’t made up his mind to continue pretending or brazening the situation out when she’d pounced on him, bouncing over his cock while she giggled and grappled for purchase on his shirt.
Right, brushed against bare skin there. Where the bloody hell is my duster?
Spike suffered the delicate scrape of her nails at his collarbone and felt an exquisite shudder race over his flesh. And then he nearly jumped a foot in the air as his t-shirt was ripped viciously down the centre. Bloody good thing he was tethered down or his Big Bad persona would be a goner for sure. If his heart had still been beating he was willing to bet his blood pressure would have gone through the roof.
As unexpected as the forceful stripping was, he didn’t feel the need too much to panic until a wet slimy tongue did a line from his waistband to his neck, ending with a not so gentle bite above his Adams apple. And that took care of his cock’s indecision. Humiliation ripped through him as the rigid length nudged the tip at the rapidly moistening denim against the crotch of her whatever she was wearing. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to picture…
Lacy red panties with those little useless ties at the hips that his fingers could play with till they pulled the bow apart and the scanty fabric floated to the ground. Bare Slayer pussy…
Bloody hell, that tore it. Now he was imagining things he had no business even contemplating—not even for kicks. He just knew that rubbing her innocent face in the lewdness of Angelus would get him thinking of things he had no reason to be interested in.
His eyes shot open at the snap of his jeans stud popping open and the zip being slowly rolled down. Holy fuck, what did the crazy chit think she was doing? He was totally naked and vulnerable and the smirk on the Slayer’s face told a story of being completely unhinged.
“Oi! Get your bloody hands off me, you perverted bitch.” His desperation and wide eyes just started her off giggling and Spike began to buck against the chains holding his wrists to the bed. It was a flimsy bed; he could take it. Bloody oath he could. One almighty yet unsuccessful wrench of one hand and he had hot, wet Slayer sitting on his face. His eyes flew open wide as a hand curled in his hair. His mouth and nose was completely taken care of, but his eyes were free to roam up the body he’d quipped wasn’t good enough to entice a bloke to seconds. He hadn’t been offering an invitation for firsts. Did he mention the girl was off her tree?
“I’ll make you a deal, Spikey. Do a good job here and I won’t stake you.” Buffy reached behind her, groaned with approval as her delicate hand curved around the painful swell of his cock, and stroked him slowly up and then down. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll even do some practise on this.” A tormenting squeeze. “What do you say to that, baby?”
He choked. Obviously being blown off by that git at the college had fried her brain. She mustn’t have been able to handle the rejection so soon after Angelus had so spectacularly blown her off. What the hell had he done to be the one she punished, though?
She brought her knee up level with his eyes. “See this, Spikey? I’m wondering if you could point out where the dimple is. And lookie? All it took for you to get between them—dimple or no—was to just be you. That must really surprise you, I’m sure. Not me, though. Nuhuh. I always knew your mouth would be your downfall. In this sitch right now? It could actually save your too pale skin, so get to the licking and the sucking before I decide you’re even worse in bed than you profess me to be and I stake your worthless hide.”
Alarm didn’t come close to covering how Spike felt, and as a nicely carved piece of wood came into view, he opened his mouth and allowed his tongue out for a hesitant taste. And another. Not bad. And another. Catching her eyes in his, he used his chin to tell her to move subtly and then he was nibbling on her little straining nubbin like it was blood chocolate manufactured for vamps. On review, a bit of alright!
Buffy leaned forward, her body lifting slightly as Spike lashed at her clit, her hands gripping the headboard with urgent need. It just wasn’t enough; she was missing something and so leaned further into the smooth panelled headboard until her aching nipples rubbed against the wood.
She never knew it was so sensitive down there. Neither Angel nor Parker had offered to go down on her, and after Spike’s outrageous insults Buffy had read up on vampires and sex and all its promises in order to show him how wrong he was, and this had implied some heady experiences. Well, the author of that book was getting her wholehearted thank you’s. And maybe flowers. This went beyond heady. With the heat that spread over her skin, the curl of tension in her gut and the yearning to explode, Buffy was willing to bet this flew way past heady.
The smooth cool surface against her tight nipples was another sensation added to Spike’s tongue and Buffy suddenly got an insight to sex she’d been previously ignorant of. She’d been robbed. This was so much better than missionary, and for a second she was disappointed that she had to kidnap Spike and force herself on him to find out. Oh well. May as well keep with the taking advantage while it’s on offer…or not so much!
While she was lost in the internal and external moans of pleasure, Spike had allowed his demon free reign and she could feel the sharp fangs as they gently teased against her lips. The bed head was letting her down; Buffy allowed her fingers to circle each nipple before almost cruelly clamping around them and squeezed and tugged while writhing on Spike’s face until the inferno in her womb rushed down and up at once, catapulting her into a sea of sensation she’d not yet experienced.
Climax jerked through her body and Buffy whimpered as she rode it for all she was worth, Spike licking and sucking at her flesh. Buffy had expected her body to feel languid and dreamy, instead she was all geared to try more of the things she’d read about, feeling so glad that Spike had no control over the erection he got as soon as she touched him.
“Okey dokey. So, that’s one body part that got between my not-so-dimpled knees. Care to try another?” Without waiting for an answer, and not caring for one anyway, Buffy rose a little shakily from Spike’s face, moved back until his cock was resting neatly between her ass cheeks. A burst of pure confidence shot through her and Buffy couldn’t help but leer at Spike as she rubbed herself against his turgid flesh. And moaned needily.
Spike’s shock was complete. The mad bitch was about to impale herself on his cock and he was really rather particular who he allowed that pleasure to. That it had been no one but Dru and then that dippy bird Harmony was NOT the bleeding point. He’d gone about the choosing, the allowing, and here he was with not the teensiest say in who he planted his cock into. He was kind of getting the impression that the Slayer had taken a few of his barbs to heart and was out to prove he was mistaken.
“No. I have no interest in…arggghhhh. Bloody fuck. Get your—” Spike screamed as loud as he could against the ductape that was suddenly slapped over his mouth as hot, wet pussy slowly immersed his stiffness in the most incredible sensation he’d ever felt. Muscles squeezed as she slid slowly down, an ecstatic ‘ahhhhhhh’ bursting from her lips as Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head. Petite hands fluttered down to his chest, little fists curled and then uncurled as she took up position and began to ride his cock gently and tenderly. It was so new and unexpected that Spike gave into it totally, feeling himself swept away and accepting the situation.
“You’re thinking, Spike,” she panted, eyes glistening with lust that Spike suddenly felt tremendously proud was his doing. “Don’t think. Just…say my name.”
He tried.
Loud garbled ‘Muffy’ filtered from behind the tape until she ripped it off his lips leaving a stinging pain that did nothing but heighten the sensory overload that was stretching his arousal to previously unknown boundaries. He groaned then caught himself in her eyes, his face shifting back into the human features as he stared at her beauty in wonder.
“Buffy,” he murmured in amazement and felt lighter at her happy smile. Well, this was unexpected.
The angle changed as she leaned forward, her lips delicately nibbling at his neck and he felt her breasts against his chest for the first time. It was marvellous; soft flesh teasing his skin before satisfying it with the heaviness. More shape and weight than he’d imagined—and that brought him up short with wide eyes. Bloody hell, he’d imagined the shape of the Slayer’s breasts before. He stared at her, speculative, before jerking his head and encouraging her to come closer. She was wary, of course, her eyes worried and darting nervously to the hands still chained to the bed before slowly drifting closer.
He pounced—as much as he could while incapacitated—and claimed her lips. The touch was awkward at first, the sudden bump not quite what she’d been expecting, he guessed. But she got into it quickly, letting her lips fall apart as she fell into his mouth. Spike swept his tongue over her bottom lip, growling in his throat when hers brushed against his. She sucked on it before pulling back, showing him her glazed unfocused eyes before entering it again, and kissing him into shock. She’d apparently had plenty of practice with this part of what they were doing, and as she licked and nibbled his lips, she curled her arms around his neck, settling her breasts against his chest as her hips continued to stimulate his cock to a violent heat. He could feel her walls meld around every ridge protruding from his cock and wondered if the almost scratch of it irritated her in sensation like it did him. If she felt the itch of her need to come as he did. He held on, wanting desperately to touch her skin as she pumped him first soothingly and then upping the pace until he could barely keep it together.
Buffy flung herself away from his mouth, the angle altering again and he could feel the jolt as the head of his cock rubbed against an intriguing pad of nerves. He’d go so far as to bet a limb that Angelus’s short and stumpy cock had never bumped against it. Buffy was clawing at his flesh, moaning desperately as Spike lifted his hips each time she descended to slam the hit home, almost crowing every time it made her cry out and then scream as it became too much and she went spaghetti-like, collapsing forward again though she still bounced on his cock. And then there were teeth, girly screams of determination and revulsion intermingled with his own ones of shock as his blood flowed into her mouth and his seed shot into her fluttering cavern.
Buffy pulled away after a long minute of biting, sucking and consuming, a short affirmation of who he belonged to still ringing in his ears as he stared in terror at the blood coating her lips. His blood. His fucking blood that he’d worked hard to hunt down and feed. He was angry. He was bloody livid. And he felt damn near incoherent.
“Gimme back my blood, you barmy bitch!”
“Don’t insult me,” she said with a wild ecstatic grin and he wanted to bite her—so bad. Let her know what it felt like to be violated without warning and then claimed like some stray rectangle of baggage.
“Don’t tell me what to do you—” His eyes shot wide, understanding dawning horribly and leaving only one thing for him to do.
“Arghhhhhhhh,” he bellowed. To Buffy it might have sounded like a panicked scream, but to Spike no bloody way was he going to be lumped in with a girly reaction to certain destruction. Bellowed it was then. “What the fuck have you done?”
The only answer he got was the surprise release from the chains. Before he could process his freedom and strangle her with his bare hands, Spike received his first order.
“You will never kill me. Got that, Spikey? Be a good boy and we just might have some fun. Or, I will anyway. Now, want to make me feel good, baby?”
Jesus fuck, her voice was more saccharine than sweet-and-low. He recognised defeat when he saw it, nodding dejectedly as he realised that no other choice could be grasped. He’d been whipped into submission with only one bite—one that no other woman had seen fit to try on him before. He couldn’t help the admiration he felt at what she’d done, hoping beyond hope she realised exactly what it meant and hadn’t claimed him as a lark. He’d be right pissed if she just ordered him around and then discarded him like the dog Dru had always claimed he was. Bad dog, though he’d tried so long to be good for her. Now he belonged to another and he was completely in the dark as to what that was about.
“Slayer?” A raised eyebrow; he huffed. “Buffy?” He was saying her name. Bloody hell, he was on the fast train to Hell. “Tell me you did that for more reason than to just shag me rotten?”
She pouted. “Is there anything else to life than…shagging?” She turned her nose up adorably at the term and Spike felt that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be tempted to eat her the first chance he got. Which would probably never happen seeing as how he had the no killing ban on her fine body.
“Shagging and fighting and fuck all else.” He looked up at her hopefully, his eyes painfully vulnerable and pleading that she wasn’t going to render his existence useless. Or void.
Buffy tapped at his chest thoughtfully, her body still clutching hold of his cock as she sat on his pelvis, her form a beautiful masterpiece that he was admiring carefully for the first time. Her smile was natural now, genuine.