Oh God! She never knew her head could hurt so much.
Buffy opened her eyes and, instantly regretting the action, squeezed
them tightly shut in a futile defence against the sun streaming through
her window. Her head alternated between pounding and spinning, and
the heat that came streaming through the window along with the blinding
light was rapidly increasing her already overpowering nausea.
Clasping her hand to her mouth, Buffy bolted for the bathroom, only
just reaching her destination before emptying the contents of her
stomach. Finally, her stomach completely void and the muscles in her
throat and abdomen aching from the strain of dry-retching, Buffy sank
slowly to the floor; she curled in on herself, arms wrapped defensively
around her knees as she rested her head on the cool hard surface of
the tiles and drifted off into an exhausted sleep.
Hours later, Buffy awakened, stiff and sore from her unusual choice
of sleeping venues. She raised her head tentatively, steeling herself
for the blinding pain and subsequent nausea that this morning’s
rousing had brought on. A dull thud in her head and an empty ache
in her stomach were all that greeted the movement, though, and she
slowly uncurled, carefully
stretching each tortured muscle. Only then did she realise that she
was naked. Completely, absolutely devoid of clothes!
She tried to remember what had happened the previous night. How could
she have gone to bed without any clothes on? Try as she might, Buffy
could not remember anything after going to the Bronze with her friends;
she was supposed to meet Angel there, and had been looking forward
to seeing him. Beyond that, her mind was a blank. And what was wrong
with her? She didn’t get sick. Not ever! And this felt awful—the
worst she could remember ever feeling.
Slowly and carefully—her legs trembling slightly and her head
shooting occasional warning stabs of pain that told her in no uncertain
terms she would pay dearly if she moved too quickly—Buffy eased
herself to her feet. She turned the taps on and climbed into the tub,
sighing gratefully as the hot water rained down on her aching head.
She stood under the water until it
started to go cold, then made her way to her room to dry and quickly
pull on some clothes. Checking her clock, she saw that she had slept
most of the day away and that her mom would be home from the gallery
soon. She needed to speak
to Willow before her mom got home.
The shower had done much to ease the throbbing pain in her head and
the stiff ache in her muscles. She sat down on her bed and grabbed
the phone, quickly dialling Will’s number and waiting for her
friend to pick up.
The front door opened as Buffy was replacing the phone on its cradle;
Willow hadn’t been a lot of help. Apparently they had waited,
but Angel had not shown up. Xander and Willow had left and tried to
convince her to go with them, but she had wanted to give Angel a little
more time so she had stayed behind.
Buffy went downstairs. Her mom was in the kitchen unpacking some groceries
she had bought on her way home from work.
“Hi, honey.” Joyce looked up as Buffy entered the room.
She squinted worriedly, her brow creasing slightly with concern as
she took in her daughter’s strained look and pallid features.
“You look terrible. Are you coming down with something?”
Her hand immediately placed itself across Buffy’s forehead,
searching for any trace of fever.
“Gee, thanks, Mom! Just what a girl wants to hear,” Buffy
pouted. “But yeah, I guess I might be coming down with something.
My head hurts and my stomach feels all funky.”
“Do you want me to make you something to eat?”
Buffy screwed up her face in disgust at the very thought of food.
“Nah, I think I might just go back to bed.”
“Okay, honey. Get some sleep, and hopefully you’ll feel
better in the morning.”
Buffy was pulled slowly from her dreams by the most delicious sensation.
Soft lips ran trails down her neck and along her collarbone before
dipping down to trace icy fire between her breasts. She moaned softly,
eyes still closed against the pleasure, and shifted slightly to accommodate
the lean body that rested lightly on top of her. As the figure settled
comfortably between her legs, a nimble tongue and teeth quickly undid
the buttons holding her top closed. Her eyes opened with a gasp of
pleasure as that amazing mouth latched on to one eager nipple, suckling
gently and nipping lightly to draw
further hungry moans and whimpers from her before soothing once more
with gentle licks. Buffy’s pleasure-soaked brain was unable
to comprehend anything beyond the incredible sensations the lips,
tongue and teeth currently lavishing her
body were eliciting; her body was writhing in ecstasy from the unfamiliar,
but oh so welcome, touches.
She fought through the fog of pleasure-induced delirium, finally registering
the fact that she was actually awake and this wasn’t just some
incredibly realistic dream.
Spike? How could Spike be here—in her bedroom? And, oh God,
how could he be making her feel the things she was feeling? She summoned
every ounce of self-control she possessed and forced herself to scoot
from the mouth that was delivering these intensely exquisite sensations
that shot through her body and left her weak with longing.
“Spike? What are you doing here? How?” She crossed her
arms quickly in front of her, pulling the pyjama top closed in the
process. Her eyes widened in panic when the last vestiges of lust
swept away, leaving her with the knowledge that ‘the Slayer
of Slayers’ was somehow here, in her bedroom—in her house!
Buffy tried to stay calm, tried not to let the rising panic take over,
and tried also not to think about the things his mouth had been doing
to her when she woke. A deep throaty chuckle brought her quickly back
to the present, and more specifically to the vampire who remained
settled comfortably between her legs looking like he had no intentions
whatsoever of leaving his resting place anytime soon.
“Thought the ‘what’ was pretty obvious, Slayer.
As for the how, have an invite, now don’t I? Can come in here
whenever I want now, pet.” A hungry smile lit his face, and
his eyes burned with lust as he ran them slowly over her barely hidden
body. He had both smelled her body’s reaction to his ministrations
and felt the rapid rise in her heartbeat that told him in no
uncertain terms that his attentions were not entirely unwelcome.
“An invite? How?” Buffy’s panic rose another notch.
Had her Mom let Spike in the house, and if so, why were they still
alive? Why hadn’t he killed them in their sleep? Then a fresh
thought stabbed cold fear to her heart. Her mom—she could be
dead! Spike could have already drained her mom, and then come in here
to toy with her before claiming the life of his third slayer.
He chuckled again. This was going to be even more fun than he had
thought. The bint didn’t remember a thing, and he was going
to get a great deal of pleasure out of enlightening her.
“Well, love, if I remember correctly, the invite occurred somewhere
between you stickin’ your pretty little tongue halfway down
my throat and you tryin’ to rip my clothes off and have your
wicked way with me. Couldn’t get enough of running your hands
over my hot little body. Quite the little vixen, aren’t you,
“What?” Buffy’s voice rose indignantly. “I
don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, Spike, but
“How’d you feel when you woke up, love? How was the head?
An’ maybe you felt a little under the weather? Bit not so right
in the stomach?”
“Oh my god! What did you do to me?”
“Me?” he scoffed. “Don’t go blaming me for
this! ‘S all your own doin’, so if you’re lookin’
to lay blame, Slayer, look no bloody further than your own dainty
little feet.” He ducked his head and gently nibbled on the warm
golden stomach that now rested beneath his mouth, his tongue flicking
out to trace slow teasing circles before it plunged into her belly-button
to elicit an involuntary moan of pleasure from her. Spike smiled knowingly
against her skin. She wanted him, every demon-enhanced sense he owned
told him so—hell, they were practically screaming it at him.
Once more Buffy fought against the pleasure of Spike’s agile
tongue to remind herself that she was the slayer and this creature
in her bed was an evil master vampire who took great delight and pride
in killing her kind.
“No. Stop!” Buffy squirmed under him, pushing at his head
to make him stop. When he raised his head to look at her, her breath
caught. Blue eyes sparkling with lust and humour peered up at her
out of his stunningly beautiful face. Why had she never noticed before
how gorgeous Spike was? Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she
reluctantly admitted. She had noticed that first night in the Bronze,
but then there had been the whole big distracty thing with the vampire
attack and the gorgeous blonde newcomer turning out to be a vampire
himself—and a kills-slayers-for-a-hobby type of vampire to boot.
“Okay, you say you didn’t do anything to me. So how is it
you know what was wrong with me when I woke up, then, Mr Smartypants?”
“’s common knowledge what the symptoms of a hangover are,
Slayer. An’ I’m wagerin’ you had one hell of a hangover
goin’ on, what with the state you were in last night.”
He dropped his chin and rested it lightly on her abdomen, trying to
fight the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked
up at her shocked face.
“What?! How?” She glared at the vampire, positive that
somehow this was his fault entirely.
“Well, I would be inclined to say in the usual manner, love—you
lifted a few too many glasses an’ applied them to that pretty
little mouth of yours. As for the actual reason behind your sudden
fall from your bloody platform of virtue, I wouldn’t have a
clue, an’ I don’t give a toss anyway. Found you staggerin’
through an alley way outta your usual jurisdiction, singing some god-awful
crap at the top of your lungs an’ smellin’ none too pleasant
too, I might add.”
“But… I… How?”
“Thought I just established that I have no bleedin’ idea!”
he answered derisively, his scarred eyebrow raised as he smirked at
the slayer’s obvious discomfort. She was so damned cute.
Buffy stared at him, indignation flaring. She was about to tell him
that there was no way she would have got drunk when a quick flash
came to her of the inside of Willy’s bar, an all-but-empty pitcher
of beer on the table in front of her and one terrified weasel of a
bartender asking if there was anything more he could get for her because
it was just about closing time.
“I… I think I was looking for Angel,” she stammered.
“I went to Willy’s.”
“Right. Cause that’s exactly where you’re gonna
find the poof. Hangin’ out with all his demon mates.”
Sarcasm dripped from Spike’s tongue, his eyes narrowing angrily
at the mention of his despised grandsire’s name. What the hell
did the chit see in the soddin’ brooding bastard anyway? He’d
make her forget she’d ever heard of bloody Angelus. By the time
this night was over, he intended to hear the Slayer scream; whether
from ecstasy or agony, he didn’t much care—although his
painfully hard cock was definitely leaning towards the ecstasy side
of the equation.
“He was supposed to meet me at the Bronze, and he didn’t
show up,” she confided quietly. “I thought maybe Willy
might know where he’d be. Or that maybe he might be there. Oh,
I don’t know what I was thinking… that
I’d been stood up… that I wasn’t good enough…"
“That you weren’t good enough?” Spike snorted. “He’s
the one who’s not bloody good enough for you, pet. You could
do so much better.”
“Yeah? Like who? You, maybe?” she asked, bitter resignation
colouring her tones.
“Yeah, like me! An’ why bloody not? ‘m a fine catch
“Spike, you kill slayers.” Buffy could have kicked herself
the second the words were out of her mouth. Yeah, way to go, Buffy.
Remind the evil undead bloodsucker that has you pinned to the bed
that he kills your kind. Great survival instincts!
“Yeah? Well, I didn’t kill you last night, now did I?
Not that there woulda been a lot of challenge in it. What with you
so bloody drunk you could hardly stand.”
“So, what—you just brought me home?” Buffy questioned,
disbelievingly. “Without feeling the need to gnaw on my neck
while you had the chance?”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I did. Why the hell would I
want to fight you in that condition? Where’s the bloody glory
in defeating a paralytic slayer? Besides, you were all over me like
a bleedin’ rash—what was I s’posed to do? Couldn’t
have pried your tongue out of my mouth long enough to bite you, even
if I'd wanted to.”
“You’re lying! There is no way. Nuh uh.” Buffy shook
her head vehemently, despite the nagging in the back of her mind that
told her just how full of it she was, that of course she would love
to get her lips on the sexy piece of vampire flesh currently resting
in oh-so-tempting a position and looking up at her with those unbelievably
beautiful blue eyes. There was no doubting he was evil—something
that tempting just had to be evil!
“That’s right, pet. I’m lyin’. That’s
how come I’m sitting here right now, invited into the slayer’s
holy bloody sanctum. An’ why I know for a fact that you went
to bed starkers last night; was a right pretty little striptease you
did, too, I might add. Hardest thing I’ve ever done, getting
outta here with all my clothes intact.” His eyes sparkled in
recollection, and he felt himself harden further.
Buffy opened her mouth to protest, to claim he was lying, when she
was assailed by the vision of Spike tucking her carefully into bed
while trying to avoid her eagerly grasping hands. She remembered his
parting words as he ducked out her window, blowing her a kiss before
fleeing into the safety of night. “Tomorrow. When you’re
in your right mind. You still want me then, an’ I’m all
She felt the colour burning her cheeks as she ducked her head in shame
at her behaviour. She remembered now, well bits and pieces anyway,
not how she had ended up in the alley… but she remembered Spike
walking her home, making sure she was safe and trying to fend off
her advances at the same time. She remembered stripping and trying
to rip the vampire’s clothes from his body after inviting him
into her room, as he’d had to carry her up the tree over his
shoulder to prevent her falling and killing herself as she sneaked back
“Oh, God. What did I do? You must think I’m such a …”
“No. Shh. Nothing of the sort. C’mere.” He moved
up her body, wrapping her in his arms and flipping them so he lay
on his back, the slayer’s head resting on his chest as he stroked
her hair soothingly. “I think you had a few too many drinks,
an’ you were lonely, ‘s all, pet. Trust me, I know how
that feels,” he sighed, revealing more than he had meant to
inexplicable urge to comfort the girl in his arms.
“But you love Drusilla. I know you do.” Buffy turned
her sad green eyes on the vampire; she longed for the kind of love
she had seen shine in this undead creature’s eyes as he gazed
at his dark princess.
“Yeah, I do. Doesn’t mean the feelin’s reciprocated,
though. The only place in Dru’s heart has a fuckin’ big
‘RESERVED’ sign on it for her bleedin’ ponce of
a daddy. Never mind that yours truly’s the one has taken care
of her, an’ loved her, an’ looked out for her for the
last bloody century; that counts for shit as far as she’s concerned.
All I ever hear from her is how her daddy will be coming home to her
soon, the stars or Miss bloody Edith, or some other such rot, told
her so.” Spike’s voice rang with sadness and hurt and
betrayal so deep it made Buffy’s heart ache for him; she tightened
her arms around his strong body and snuggled a little deeper into
his chest, offering silent comfort for the pain he had unintentionally
They stayed like that for some time, each giving comfort to the other
as they cuddled quietly, stroking each other softly. Spike’s
fingers ran rhythmically through her hair, and Buffy’s hand
gently stroked the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. In time,
their touches grew less comforting and more arousing; Spike’s
other hand came up to inch below her still unbuttoned top, easing
the shirt open to once again reveal her breasts for his inspection.
He gently cupped one soft mound, flicking his thumb across her nipple
and receiving a startled gasp of pleasure as his reward. He felt his
once more, from both her pleasurable reaction and the hot little hands
wandering ever closer across the dips and ridges of his stomach.
He moaned hungrily and pulled her up to him, his head dipping to plant
a searing kiss on her welcoming lips. His tongue sought and gained
access, tangling lightly with hers as his fingers continued their
ministrations to her now-hardened nipple, gently twisting and tweaking
before rolling the hungry little bud firmly between thumb and forefinger
only to tweak once more. He caught her cries and moans with his mouth,
each new whimper of longing and delight bringing new levels of urgency
to his painfully hard cock. He shifted slightly to try to ease the
pressure and moaned as the sudden move
caused her hand to brush against his aching erection, making it jump
painfully against the restrictive denim and causing her to squeak
“Spike. No. Stop. Please,” she breathed urgently into
his mouth as she tried to shuffle away from him, but this time his
arms tightened around her even as he complied with her wishes, removing
his hand from her aching nipple and reluctantly breaking off the mind-numbing
“Slayer, just stake me, will you, and stop bloody torturing
me like this,” he growled in frustration.
“Spike. This is wrong. We shouldn’t. I mean... we’re
enemies… you hate me…”
“Don’t bloody hate you. What gave you that idea?"
“Oh, let me see… You wanting to kill me might have had
something to do with it.”
“Wanting to kill you has nothing to do with hating you. Don’t
hate you at all. Killing slayers is just what I do. ‘s nothing
personal.” He sighed deeply in an attempt to calm his frustration,
and to gain a moment to think of what to say to quieten her fears
and ultimately lead things back to where they had been before she
had once more interrupted the beginnings of what had the potential
to be a perfectly good shag. “Look at me, Slayer.” He
tilted her chin up so she looked him in the eye. “I give you
my word—I will never enter this house to harm anyone. If you
want to get your watcher over here
to uninvite me, you can go ahead. But there is no need. I will never
harm anyone inside this house.”
Buffy stared at him for a while. His eyes never wavered and, despite
every instinct screaming at her that she could not take the word of
a vampire, she knew she could believe him, knew that if Spike gave
her his word he would keep it. She nodded slowly, never losing eye
contact with him. “I believe you.”
“Good.” He smirked at her. “Course, having said
that, if I see you out on the streets in fit enough condition to fight,
I won’t hesitate to kill you.” With that he leaned down
and once more captured her mouth in a bone-melting kiss. When he finally
allowed her up for air, he continued on. “Just cause we’re
enemies doesn’t mean we can’t have a little,” he
looked her up
and down before his gaze came to rest on her face, lust burning obviously
in his eyes, “fun.” His eyes drifted back down to gaze
hungrily at her still-exposed breasts. He flipped them over, settling
her comfortably on the bed and regaining his previous resting place
between her legs. Licking his lips in anticipation, he leaned in slowly
to capture a taut pink nipple gently between his teeth, his tongue
flicking out to tease as his teeth slowly increased the pressure.
Spike lavished attention on her breasts with tongue and teeth, sometimes
suckling gently, sometimes nipping harshly to elicit a sharp gasp
of need and a fresh flood of arousal before gently soothing once more,
licking and suckling at the abused flesh. While his mouth alternated
from one breast to the other, his hands roamed across her body, stroking
and teasing until Buffy was whimpering and moaning helplessly beneath
the vampire’s deliciously cruel assault.
The tantalising scent of the slayer’s arousal sent waves of
longing and need coursing through his body. He forced down the urge
to rip her clothes off and bury himself to the hilt inside of her.
The slayer was young, and he suspected still a virgin; it would be
worth the effort and the control it took for him to do this properly.
He found himself wanting to teach her the
joys and pleasures that two people could find in each other, for some
reason he couldn’t quite understand, he wanted this to be memorable
for her for all the right reasons. Whether this wish stemmed from
the tenderness that the girl
seemed to evoke in him despite his best efforts to deny it, or from
a certain manly pride in knowing that all who came after would be
compared—and he believed unfavourably—to him, he was unsure;
neither did he care.
Moving almost regretfully away from the breasts he had lavished so
much care and attention on, he worked slowly down the slayer’s
body, kissing and nipping along the way, his tongue tracing trails
of icy fire across her abdomen until once more unerringly finding
the way and dipping into her belly button. The girl’s moans
increased in volume, and her hips lifted
involuntarily from the bed, urging him lower; despite her silent pleas,
he took his time, sucking and licking her golden skin, revelling in
the feel of her strong lithe muscles below the silky soft surface.
His hands continued to wander over her body, fingers lightly teasing
as they danced across her, seeking out and attacking her most responsive
regions. One hand took over the work in which his mouth had previously
been employed, teasing her rosy nipples to further tautness; each
moan and whimper from the slayer’s lips, each gasp of air or
urgent thrash of her body as it experienced for the first time the
delight of a lover’s competent touch, urged him on to greater
levels of blissful torture and his own aching need was temporarily
He moved lower down her body with agonising slowness; without removing
her satin pyjama pants, he kissed and nipped his way down one thigh.
Purposefully avoiding her centre, he worked his way down her leg,
kissing and nuzzling the delicate curves and licking light trails
of fire across the bare skin below her knee. When he reached her foot,
his strong hands lightly massaged it before he nipped and licked at
the sole, causing tremors of want to course through her; grinning
with self-satisfaction, he gently sucked on her instep once more,
the almost painfully delicious sensations eliciting further tremors
of ecstasy. He swiftly moved to the other foot and forced it to endure
the same exquisite ordeal as its counterpart, his blunt human teeth
employed on the sole of her foot just hard enough to cross the line
between ticklish and sensual.
After working his way up this leg, having treated it in the same manner
as the first, he ran kisses gently along her hip bone; her mewling
cries increased in both need and volume as he continued to avoid the
aching heat at the junction of her thighs. His hands, finding themselves
once again within reach, returned to their assault on her exquisitely
Buffy had never imagined such sensations could exist. Spike was carrying
her body to levels of bliss she had never dreamed possible, and all
semblance of coherent thought had ceased moments after his mouth had
descended upon her breasts. The desperate ache building inside her,
the need for something more, something beyond her grasp and yet so
close within reach had her crying and whimpering unashamedly. Spike’s
every touch drove her to greater depths of need, and she knew she
would do anything in order to find the completion her body was screaming
for. Her hips reached longingly towards him as he neared; she whimpered
with loss as his talented lips ignored her pleadings and moved away
from the throbbing bundle of nerves desperate for his touch, only
to moan with pleasure as he traced nips and kisses along her hip bone,
increasing her need further with each contact of his mouth against
her hungry body. Her hands dropped to his head and her fingers twined
in his hair, freeing the soft white curls he fought so hard to control.
She tried helplessly to push him lower, and he stubbornly refused
to move, his only answer to her silent plea being to suck harder still
on the skin stretched tautly over her hipbone, gently pulling her
blood to the surface within tantalising reach of his questing tongue;
desperately, she gave her plea breath and whispered beseechingly,
At her spoken request, he moved swiftly to envelope her satin-covered
mound in hungry open-mouthed kisses, licking and suckling through
the fine material. Her hips rocked against his face, pressing against
him in an unconscious effort to increase the pressure and drive herself
closer to the release he had brought her so near and yet refused her.
Grasping the waistband of her pants, he quickly pulled the obstacle
down her slim hips and off. He resettled himself once more, but as
he lowered his head to finally savour the taste of the slayer’s
juices direct from the source, his eye was caught by a splash of colour.
Using his hands to still her thrashing, he pinned her trembling thigh
to the bed and bent to examine that which had distracted him from
the task at hand. On the inside of the slayer’s finely muscled
thigh, only a fraction of an inch from the delights he was about to
savour, was a small tattoo; it was clearly recent—although courtesy
of her slayer enhanced healing powers it was well healed—and
depicted a small heart pierced by what was unmistakably a railway
spike. A surge of pride swelled in him, followed rapidly by a burning
jealous rage when he realised that someone, most likely a man, had
been in the position to place the little pretty there in the first
Before he could control himself, his fangs surged forth and sank deeply
into the tender flesh, placing his mark on her body right next to
the symbolic one she had willingly placed there herself; the two combined
to mark her indelibly as his. He took long deep pulls on the powerful
slayer’s blood that flooded his mouth, and her moans increased
to a new level as she
cried her need; her fingers tightened painfully in his now-loosened
curls as she bucked beneath him in an effort to regain the pleasurable
sensations his mouth had been causing, while at the same time never
wanting him to stop drinking
deeply of her blood. She had no idea what had inspired him to bite
her, no comprehension of the reason he had growled so possessively
before sinking his fangs deep into her flesh; all she knew was that
she never wanted him to stop, would gladly lay there and allow him
to drain her as long as the feelings coursing through her body and
concentrating in her womb never ceased.
Spike reluctantly drew back, gently licking the puncture wounds to
stop the blood and start them healing. Her blood was intoxicating,
a potent elixir imbuing the drinker with strength, power, and no small
amount of lust. He had tasted the blood of a slayer before, drinking
greedily as her life had slipped away and revelling in the power her
death had brought. This slayer—his slayer, the demon
in him growled possessively, licking once more at the two marks gracing
her thigh—tasted of power far greater than any he had known
She thrashed beneath him, but not in an attempt to free herself from
the master vampire whose teeth had so recently rested within her flesh,
rather, she bucked in desperate lustful need of the selfsame vampire
whose mouth hovered scant inches above her needy flesh.
He grasped her hips, pinning them tightly to the bed with his fingers
digging painfully into the tender flesh, and reached out with the
tip of his tongue to trace gently from her entrance to her pleasure
centre; he nipped it gently before sucking the hardened nub into his
mouth, rolling it with his tongue as he sucked. Her hips fought against
their imprisonment, seeking to
buck upwards and force a greater contact between her aching flesh
and the vampire’s hungry mouth. His hold clamped down even harder,
and her movements ceased even as her desperate mewling grew all the
more urgent, his name barely
distinguishable amongst the incoherent babbling. He sucked harder
and nipped again at her sensitive clit.
In just moments, her body exploded as wave upon wave of pleasure engulfed
her, and her thighs clamped closed around her lover’s head,
locking him into place. He thanked all who would listen that he had
no need to breathe, before again dipping his tongue between her folds
to lap hungrily at the flood of abrosia, his eager ministrations prolonging
her orgasm. His hold on her hips relaxed as his hands travelled over
her now wildly thrashing body, and his moan of appreciation against
her heated flesh caused yet another flood of juices to coat his tongue
as it delved into her depths. He continued to lap tenderly at her,
avoiding her clitoris as she slowly came down, small shocks continuing
to course through her body for some time as his tongue gently explored
her virgin passage.
Her legs unclamped as her orgasm subsided, and after once more laving
her folds and indulging in a gentle parting suck to her clit, Spike
moved up her body, gathering her in his arms as he lay beside her
on the bed. He captured her mouth and kissed her breathless, the taste
of her own juices on his lips at first startling and then exciting
her as she recalled exactly why he tasted of her.
When he released her mouth to allow her breath, she nuzzled into his
neck, burying her face from his sight. The slight tremor of her shoulders
and the tiniest trace of sound put him on alert, and he pulled her
slightly away from his body, his fingers gently lifting her chin so
he could see her face and the fat tear that traced its way slowly
down her cheek.
Concern etched his features as he stared in shock at her face. “Shh.
Ah, love, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?” He was certain that
he hadn’t, but her tears gripped him with a sudden panic; the
last thing he had wanted was to cause her pain, either emotional or
Buffy shook her head vehemently and tried to find the words to explain.
“Spike, that was… I never knew anything could be so…
amazing.” Hidden beneath the uncertainty of inexperience and
the dread that he would laugh at her reaction to something that, for
her, had been nothing less than a revelation, her words were so quiet
that had Spike been anything but a vampire, he couldn’t have
made them out despite the close proximity they currently shared.
A smile curled the corners of his mouth once he realised that her
tears were of joy and not sorrow or pain; relieved, he claimed her
mouth once again before murmuring softly against her lips, “Ah,
Buffy, love, you scared me. I thought I’d hurt you, kitten,
and that’s not what this night's about.” His chest puffed
with pride that he had given her such pleasure, and he
pulled her to him to once more kiss her thoroughly, his tongue dancing
a slow tango with hers as his hands tangled in the golden waves of
her sweetly scented hair.
They finally drew apart, allowing Buffy to draw a deep lungful of
much-needed air. Spike stroked gently down her back, easing the open
pyjama shirt down her arms and onto the floor. His eyes wandered appreciatively
over her naked body, committing to memory every dip and curve, the
silky texture of her golden skin, the sheen of her hair as it fell
in a dishevelled tangle about her shoulders, the still lust-clouded
eyes that gazed up at him, the kiss-swollen lips slightly parted as
if awaiting his return to ravish them further. Every detail was filed
away for later recall, for he couldn’t comprehend such an opportunity
being open to him again, even as his demon protested such a thought.
To the demon, it was a simple matter—the girl belonged to him,
he would have her when he pleased and allow no other to touch her.
Buffy balked under the intensity of his gaze; she found it strangely
unsettling, even after all he had just done to her and where he had
just been, to have his smouldering blue eyes so openly digesting her
naked form. Her embarrassment shone brightly in her cheeks as she
ducked her head to hide against his chest, burrowing her face into
his t-shirt. Her mind raced to catch up to her body. She had just
shared the most intense experience of her young life with a vampire
who had vowed to kill her, to drain the life from her body and…
wait a minute.
“Spike. You bit me!”
“Yeah, pet, I did. You only just catching on to that now?”
“But you promised! You said you didn’t come in here to
harm anyone.” Her voice was quiet but rang clearly with hurt
“Didn’t do it to harm you. If I had, you wouldn’t
be breathing now.”
“Then why?” She remembered the intense pleasure that had
accompanied every pull of her blood. Was that his intent? Had it been
purely for pleasure? If he had derived even half the pleasure from
it that she had, she guessed she could understand his motive.
“Just saw red at the thought of some bloke playin’ around
that close to places he had no bleedin’ right bein’ near,
is all. Much as I ‘preciate the thought, couldn’t you
have got it somewhere else? I’m sorry if I hurt you, love. I
just… I needed to mark you as mine. An’ before you say
anything—I know I don’t have any rights to you, but, well,
‘s not the way the demon looks at things. An’ you had
already marked yourself as mine… I was just doin’ it properly.”
His words left her spinning; she had tried to follow him around the
bend, but try as she might she was unable to keep up.
“What are you talking about, Spike?”
“Your little tattoo. Like I said, pet,‘s a right pretty
little thing and I do appreciate it, it’s just…”
“Tattoo? Spike, I don’t have a tattoo.”
He quirked his eyebrow at her. “Really? So the pretty little
heart with a railway spike through it is... what? A figment
of my imagination?”
Buffy sat up, forgetting her embarrassment at her nakedness in light
of what he was saying. “What? Where? I can’t have…?
Spike couldn’t help the laugh that burst free at the sight of
her distraught face and the million bloody questions to which she
was petulantly demanding answers. He took her hand and dragged her
to sit on he end of the bed, in front of the full length mirror standing
on the far side of the room. Grasping her knee, he gently pried her
thighs apart and watched as shock washed across her face at the sight
of both his mark, livid against her skin, and the bright little tattoo
so clearly representing him emblazoned just above it on the tender
flesh just shy of the soft brown curls.
She stared disbelievingly at the tattoo. Her fingers delicately traced
the lines, as if the tactile contact could summon forth the
memory of its origin. She lifted her face to look at Spike, to tell
him that she had no memory of acquiring the mark which had both pleased
and enraged him, only to see his face clouded with desire, his eyes
fixed on her fingers, mesmerised by their movements as they ran gracefully
across her flesh, alluringly close to her damp folds.
Emboldened by his obvious desire, she allowed one finger to trace
across her outer lips, running slowly up before dipping between the
folds to tease gently at her clit. Her breath caught at the touch
of her own hand even as she longed for a cooler touch, for his fingers
to trace the path her own had followed. Spike’s appreciative
moan, however, encouraged her further,
and she experimented with different pressures against the sensitive
nub. Twisting and tweaking it gently, tracing lazy circles then pressing
down to rub firmly, all the while keeping her eyes fixed with wonder
on her lover’s expressive face. The sight of the slayer timidly
touching herself for his pleasure caused a dual swelling in both his
unbeating heart and his eager cock.
A hiss escaped him as his already painful erection strained harder
against the restrictive denim, and he moved in an attempt to ease
His movement broke the spell under which the sight of his obvious
desire had held Buffy; embarrassment coloured her cheeks and a soft
distraught whimper escaped her as realisation of her actions hit.
She scampered quickly back up the bed to take refuge under the covers,
her mortification clearly evident as she clutched the sheet tightly
around her body. “Oh God, what did I do? I’m sorry, you
Spike laughed softly as he moved once more to her side and wrapped
his arms around her unyielding body. “Nothin’ to be sorry
‘bout, pet. Was a bloody lovely sight.” He gently grasped
her chin and forced her to look at him. “You never need to apologise
to me for anything we do in bed, love. There is no right and wrong,
you understand me? There is only what is right for us. If you ever
don’t like something I do to you, you let me know. If you like
something in particular you can let me know that too, though your
body does a good enough job of lettin’ me know that.”
A self-satisfied smirk graced his beautiful face before his features
softened once more with genuine concern. “I mean it, Buffy.
’s never anything we do together or to each other that is wrong
or dirty or any of that other bloody rot that people come out with.
If it feels
right, or good, for you… chances are it will for me too.”
His head tilted to the side, his blue eyes holding hers with their
intent gaze. “Okay?”
At her slight nod of acquiescence he released her chin and captured
her lips in a soft, sensual kiss, astounding her with his tenderness.
She relaxed into his arms once more, allowing the sheet to slip as
her hands reached out to hold him, one snaking behind his head to
tangle again in his unruly curls and one dropping to trace patterns
across his back. The kiss
deepened and they lost themselves in each other, touching, tasting,
Desperate for the touch of his skin beneath her eagerly adventurous
hand, Buffy grasped a fistful of his t-shirt and pulled it up out
of his waistband. She slid her hand beneath the now-freed material
to delight in the smooth silken skin stretched over taut rippling
muscles and gasped; he was just beautiful.
Spike broke their kiss reluctantly and pulled away, ripping the shirt
off over his head and dropping it to the floor before ducking his
head to capture the soft golden skin of her neck with his mouth. He
kissed and nipped his way slowly to her pulse point and sucked hungrily;
the sweet tease of her blood just below her flesh made his mouth tingle,
and with a deep groan of longing he sucked harder, her body writhing
in pleasure beneath his wandering hands.
He rolled to his back to release his fly and, with a relieved sigh,
allowed his straining erection to spring free. He noted with pleasure
the deep crimson mark adorning her neck and smiled to himself at the
thought of her friends and her Watcher’s reaction to that. Sitting
up, Spike removed his boots and socks and then turned and pulled the
sheet that was still draped across her body, uncovering her once more
for his inspection. Satisfaction lit him as her hands reached urgently
to try and pull him back to her. “Patience, kitten,” he
chuckled as he fended off her quick little hands. He slipped the jeans
down his slim hips and muscled legs to pool unwanted on the floor
before he turned back to her.
Buffy’s eyes widened as she took in for the first time the sight
of a naked man, her lover, and licked her lips unconsciously. Her
hand reached out hesitantly to timidly touch his cool pale length,
and she gasped as it jumped unexpectedly under her gently questing
With a soft hiss Spike moved closer, his quiet words encouraging her
to continue in their exploration. When her hand closed lightly around
him wrapping him in her heat, a groan of longing escaped and he desperately
urged her to continue. “’s alright, love. You won’t
hurt me… a little tighter. Oh yes, Buffy, that’s it. That’s
my girl.” His obvious pleasure and babbled words buoyed her
to further experimentation and she began to stroke his length more
confidently, squeezing him firmly and stroking the soft head lightly
with her fingers as she reached it. A few drops of precome had gathered,
and she rubbed them in lazy circles over the sensitive flesh before
carefully rolling back his foreskin and tracing the newly exposed
ridges beneath the soft head. Lost in her own captivated explorations,
she missed the look of adoration and tenderness in the vampire’s
eyes that was quickly followed by a deep burning lust as her hand
ran once more down his shaft to the base and beyond to cup and gently
caress his balls. With a growl he grasped her shoulders and in one
move lay her down and covered her body with his own, settling himself
between her legs as his mouth devoured hers.
Buffy’s hips arched up to meet him, urging him with unspoken
pleas to continue. He broke off the kiss, allowing the girl beneath
him the opportunity to breathe. “We don’t have to go any
further, pet. ‘s up to you,” he rumbled, voice thick with
desire as he took in the sight of the beautiful slayer, dishevelled
and wanton, her eyes bright with lust and fixed longingly on him as
she allowed her hands to roam hungrily across his back.
“I… I want… this. I want you, Spike. Want to do
this. Now. Please,” she responded breathlessly as she arched
her hips towards him once more, seeking the contact she craved.
“Shh, love. Let me do this… don’t want to hurt you.”
Spike captured her eyes with his own, needing to know that his words
had made their way through the fog of lust and need and had been understood.
When she nodded her comprehension he leaned in to kiss her tenderly.
“Want to make this so good for you.”
He nuzzled against her neck and kissed her throat, his hands moving
across her body and drawing moans of pleasure and need from both of
them as he carefully positioned himself at her entrance and edged
fractionally inside her. His breath caught with a hiss as he felt
her warmth enclose his head, and drawing on every ounce of willpower
he possessed he fought the urge to plunge into her hot welcoming channel.
With agonising slowness he eased further into her, and when he encountered
the barrier he knew he would find he slowly withdrew and gently eased
inside once more. Slowly, little by little and with infinite care,
he stretched the membrane barring him entrance to her depths, all
the while continuing his relentless assault on her body with hands
and mouth; when the barrier finally gave, allowing him to press forward
and fill her completely, if there was any pain from the rendering
she didn't notice it, lost as she was in the exquisite torment Spike
was wreaking upon her. Spike stilled his movements, allowing a few
moments for her body to adjust to him and for him to regain the control
over his own body that the feel of her hot velvet walls enclosing
him fully had all but torn from him.
He gazed into her eyes; her lust was shining clearly, evident for
any who looked, but there was something more than that. As she stared
back into his, she noted a similar look in his gaze; beyond the obvious
hunger, Spike’s eyes were tender and loving. She had dreamed
of one day being looked at like that, like she was the world to someone;
never imagined that she would find it in the beautiful face of her
Buffy reached up to stroke his face tenderly, tracing the strong line
of his cheek before tangling her fingers in the gorgeous wildly tousled
curls and drawing his mouth down to hers for a long slow kiss. As
the kiss broke off, Spike began to move within her, gently at first;
as her hips rose to meet him and her breathing quickened, however,
his movements intensified.
She was drowning, lost in the sensations her beautiful vampire was
inflicting upon her. She clung desperately to him, Spike her only
anchor as he swept her away on a wave of desire. His mouth was everywhere,
peppering her with soft kisses, nipping her flesh gently, tracing
her body with his tongue. Anywhere his mouth didn't torture his skilled
hands sought out
instead, teasing her blissfully abused nipples, gliding across the
dip of her waist, cupping her butt to lift her hips to a new angle
as he plunged into her depths. All the sensations combined to leave
Buffy reeling with their impact as her body raced toward the completion
it so desperately craved.
He felt her walls tremble around him, noted her breathing become more
ragged as her moans intensified to needy mewls. With a slight change
in the angle of his hips, he ground himself harder against her clit,
his mouth crashing down to claim hers as her body bucked beneath him
and her inner muscles massaged him closer to his own completion. He
captured her cries of pleasure with his mouth, and her final adoring
whimper of his name as he drove once more into her welcoming heat
was enough to steal the last of his will; helpless to fight it, he
felt his balls clench as his body followed hers into bliss. As his
orgasm ripped through him, her name slipped from his lips only to
be seized in turn by hers as she pressed her mouth desperately against
He held her tiny form, gracefully wrapped around him and snuggled
peacefully against his chest. A smile played across his face as he
stroked her hair and watched her sleep. The curtains had been firmly
secured by the anxious slayer before she had allowed herself to succumb
to the rest her body so desperately required after their night of
pleasure. She had turned moist green eyes upon him, asking quietly
for him to stay with her, to hold her while she slept and to be there
when she woke in the morning. He had known that he should say no,
should grab up his clothes and disappear back to Dru, to the
woman who had held his loyalty for over a hundred years; instead he'd
found himself agreeing, cuddling up to the slayer and holding her
tenderly as she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a soft contented
smile on her kiss-swollen lips.
As he watched her he tried not to wonder what the morrow would bring,
tried not to lose himself in doubts. He didn’t know how, or
why, but he could no longer believe that his future lay with his dark
princess; rather, something deep inside him knew with perfect certainty
that he belonged with the golden beauty asleep in his arms. How they
would face their future, contend with the obvious problems of their
very different natures, he didn’t know. All he knew was that
with this small girl, whose life he had sworn to take, whose sole
purpose was to destroy his kind, he felt complete in a way he
hadn't in over a hundred years of existence. He would do whatever
it took to keep her, whatever was required to continue to see the
love shining in her eyes when she looked at him, to continue to feel
the wonder of her wrapping herself trustingly around his body and
sleeping peacefully, knowing that the master vampire at her side would
dust before he allowed anyone or anything to harm her.
She carried his mark twice over; it having been placed there once
by the hand of a stranger and once by him in the ancient vampire tradition—his
fangs marking her undeniably to the rest of the demon world as his.
Now all he had to do was find a way to show the human world—her
world—that they belonged to each other. He placed a gentle kiss
against her hair and allowed her soft breathing, her beating heart,
and the warm sweet scent of her to pull him down to join her in slumber.
the end... or is it?