Synopsis: A reworking of the second season episode ‘Surprise’, this story has Angel politely refusing Buffy’s offer of physical love. Angry and confused, she seeks release elsewhere. This is Spuffy, but far from fluffy. I’ve tried to keep the characters very close to canon, so it’s much darker than my usual fics.

Rating: NC-17, for sexual situations and strong language

Author’s Note: This is something that I’ve wanted to write for a long time, now. A non-fluffy Spuffy fic. I’ve always been a fan of the ’Spike takes Buffy’s virginity’ stories, but they mostly tend to be fluffy. I wanted to try my best at making them have a go at it while still hating each other, and I hope I’ve pulled it off successfully. Thanks, as ever, to my beta Christie, whose smart-alec replies keep me in good humour and to Keely, whose fine idea I also adopted.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Joss & Co. Sigh...

“Wait!” Buffy looked up to the sky and bit her quivering lip. The rough surface of the brick wall bit into her back and the stench of the alleyway was overpowering. Her hips ached where cold hands gripped her none too gently, but her body thrummed in excitement at every point of contact with the vampire’s body. Solid chest, hard thighs, pulsing cock--they all teased her with what she wanted, what she needed. But...

***

***

So she found herself wandering in a daze, only a half hour after the humiliating debacle. Buffy had already stormed through half of Sunnydale’s downtown, but was yet to meet up with anything she could fight. Not even a fledgeling. Even the raccoons were making themselves scarce, probably picking up on her foul mood.

“Stupid vampire. Just because he’s two hundred years older than me, he thinks he can tell me what to do. ‘You’re too young, Buffy’, ‘You should wait until you’re ready’... Jerk!” She kicked a rock and watched it bounce off a dumpster. Turning her face towards the heavens, she screamed out: “Well, I was ready, but apparently I wasn’t with the right person!!”

“Right person for what, Summers?”

The Slayer’s lips curled up into an evil smile. Now there was the challenge she’d been jonesing for. Not some stupid newly-risen loser who couldn’t fight her for ten seconds. What she needed was someone who could hold their own for a long, long time. And Spike was just that person... uh, vampire.

“For this.” Buffy turned around and delivered a solid roundhouse kick to the bleached vampire’s midsection, sending him flying back. She laughed out loud, drunk on the physical release, before advancing towards the black-clad body that was trying to figure out which way was up. “Come on, Spike. Get up. I so need this right now.”

The Slayer had lost her marbles. That had to be it. Typically, when he made his presence known, she’d let loose one of her trademark lines--’Spike, get out of my face’, ’You’re a pig, Spike’, ’Do you want your undead ass staked?!’. But not tonight--he had to admit that she’d caught him by surprise with the kick.

The vampire had been watching her for the last five minutes as she made her way down the alleys, her moods swinging from scowling to whimpering back to scowling. Whomever or whatever had pissed her off had done a hell of a good job at it. Rising to face her before she had a chance to send him flying a second time, he took a fighting stance.

He easily ducked a punch as he began his own barrage. “So, what’s got your knickers in a knot tonight, luv? Peaches too busy bein’ his usual noble self to spend time with you?” Throwing his own punch, he was surprised when it caught her square on the jaw. Got it on the first guess, mate--not bad... His demon began to salivate as he dared to ponder his chances of bagging a third Slayer.

Buffy’s head snapped back mere seconds after she registered the vampire’s taunt. How the hell had he guessed in one shot?! Was it stamped on her forehead or something? ‘Yes, I’m Still A Virgin’? As she tried to straighten up, she became tangled in her coat. Growling, she tore it off, displaying her soaked clothing to the vampire’s sight. “Shut up, Spike.”

Ah. There it was--token Slayer line number eight. Either she hadn’t been as distraught as he’d first thought, or she was finally bouncing back from her self-pity party. Spike evaded a punch-kick combination and took a moment to examine the Slayer’s garb. He nearly groaned out loud at the sight of the excuse for a shirt that clung to her curves, hardened nipples poking through the flimsy fabric, and short skirt that rode up every time she kicked.

Before he could wrap his head around how a girl in a tight skirt and heels could even hold her own against a master vampire, he found himself pinned to the ground with a stake poised at his heart.

Damn she was good.

But not quite good enough, Spike thought, as he sent her flying over him. Jumping back onto his feet, he resumed a defensive stance. “Never hesitate, Slayer. Not unless you’ve got a death wish.”

“I didn’t hesitate, fang breath. It’s just that I’m not ready for this to be over so quickly. I’ve got lots of energy to burn.” Buffy’s stance mirrored the vampire’s, and she mimicked his every step, tossing her stake from hand to hand as surely as a professional ball player would a baseball.

The vampire’s lips turned up into a curl. He had a notion as to what was troubling the Slayer and although it might get him staked, he decided to goad her. Maybe she’d make that fatal mistake after all. “There are always other ways of burning energy, Slayer...” Her eyes narrowed and there was an instant’s hesitation in her movement. Yup. Right again. Time to push the bitch’s buttons, have myself some well-deserved fun at her expense. “So... this extra energy you have. It wouldn’t have to do with Peaches, now would it? Not paying enough attention to you? Leaving you all” he dragged his gaze up her body, not hiding how his eyes followed every curve, every expanse of skin, “hot and bothered?”

She struck out without thinking, landing a volley of sloppy punches and kicks, all easily blocked by her opponent. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Buffy didn’t know why, but the words had hurt. Mainly because they were dead on, but also because now Spike knew. And God knew what he’d do with that information. “I swear I’m going to...”

“You’re going to what? Pine away? Cry? Just cause you can’t get any? Buck up, Slayer. It happens to the best of us.” He paused, pursed his lips, then shook his head. “Actually, I take that back. It happens to you. The rest of us get it nice and regular.” The young woman’s blows were getting weaker and weaker, and consistently off their mark. Something serious must have happened for her to let him get her goat so effectively.

Something serious enough for him to finally throw her back against the wall, knock the stake out of her hand and press his fangs against her neck. Her body was ramrod, her breathing forced to remain steady, her heart beating a staccato rhythm. The scent of her fear was strong, but it was overpowered by another smell.

Her arousal.

Spike felt his body respond to the scent of a horny Slayer. Petite, tight body, so hot and full of life. Usually the thought of it disgusted him, but at that moment he gave in to the lure of a beating heart, blood pumping beneath flushed skin, warm breath against his cheek.. He shook his demon away, letting it kick and scream and throw a tantrum--he’d deal with it later--and slowly dragged his tongue down the young woman’s neck.

Buffy closed her eyes, resigned to her fate. She had to admit it--if she was to die at the hands of a vampire, it might as well be Spike, and not some newly-risen fledgeling with bad breath and a horrid fashion sense. Her eyes shot open, however, at the feel of the master vampire’s tongue on her neck. There was no mistaking his intention, not with the growing bulge that pressed against her stomach.

“Spike!” She ground his name out through gritted teeth. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She began to squirm, trying to ignore her own body’s reaction to the vampire’s proximity. Never a second thought had been given to his physique, and now that he was pressed against her, she couldn’t ignore it. Hard and lean, he was only slightly taller than her. He didn’t tower over her like Angel did... Angel. He-who-had-refused-her-advances. Wouldn’t he have a fit if he found out that Spike had accepted to come to bat in his stead?

“Fuck, Slayer... Your scent, it’s bloody intoxicating.” His lips continued to skate along her neck, teeth nipping at her ears.

Her scent? Oh! “Eww! You mean you can... smell me?”

The bleached blonde pulled back, eyes wide open. “Well, of course I can. Vampire here. I can smell your sweat, your perfume, I’ve even been able to smell when you’ve had your monthlies. Whets the appetite, that one does...”

“Oh, gross!” Before she had time to bitch at him, his lips smashed against hers, cutting her off. Buffy felt his fingers clutch at her hips desperately, working at pulling up her skirt until it bunched up at her waist. She yelped in pain and surprise as her thong was ripped off, her mind going blank from the savage act.

“Christ, pet--take it out, take it in your hot, little hands...” This wasn’t going to work if he was going to have to give stage directions. Spike figured the chit would have more experience, with the way she dressed and danced. He couldn’t help but twitch when he felt her reach for his belt. His patience ran out, though, when she fumbled and couldn’t get the belt off. Muttering under his breath, he swatted at her hands, ripped his belt off and undid his fly. Roughly, he put her hand down the front of his pants, hoping that she’d at least get the blatant hint.

When Buffy felt the size of what lay in Spike’s jeans, she almost lost courage. Long and thick, it was already rock hard, and warm with borrowed blood. He was pressing forward and getting closer and closer to his goal...

***

“Wait...” God, this was so humiliating.

Spike’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t really expect him to stop now, could she? Unless this was another of the Slayer’s twisted little schemes. He lowered his voice to a mere impatient rumble, lips nuzzled against the shell of her ear. “What do you mean, wait?”

Eyes never leaving the firmament, Buffy sighed. “I mean wait, because I’ve never... you know.” As hard as it was to admit this to herself, lucid thought was hard to come by with the bleached blonde whispering in her ear. She still couldn’t get over that accent of his...

It took a moment for his muddled mind to make out what she meant, but finally the reason behind her hesitancy dawned on the vampire. “Oh, you mean you’ve never...” What word could he use? Shag? No, she wouldn’t know that one--stupid American chit. Fuck? No, that would probably scare little miss prim and proper away and he’d be stuck having to jack off in an alleyway. Make love? No, he’d rather be stuck wanking in the alleyway than use the word love when the Slayer was involved. “...had a man before?” Inwardly, he groaned at having to pussyfoot around the Slayer, even if it was to get in her pants.

No matter how he put it, his words made her feel vulnerable; not a feeling she enjoyed around Spike. Disdain oozed from the answer she gave him. “No, I’ve never been with a man before, and if you...” Her words were cut off by his lips pressed against hers again.

His intent had been to shut the bint up. After all, she wasn’t bad looking, and he could smell the fruity scent of her lip gloss. And kissing usually entailed that one’s eyes be closed. The less he’d have to see who he was fucking, the better. But her lips were smooth against his, her tongue an inferno in his mouth. He couldn’t help but hold on to her that much tighter. Pulling back, he reluctantly opened his eyes.

Big mistake.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips open as she panted. Buffy knew that her eyes would be glazed over, too. This was supposed to be bad. As in ‘not of the good’. But the vampire’s lips were so soft--wasn’t that against some kind of rules, anyway?!--and his skin so cool against hers. She watched his eyes follow her pink tongue as it skimmed over her lower lip, and said the first thing that came to mind. “I hate you...” It was but a whisper, but she meant it. Her body wanted him, needed him to fill her, to make her a woman, but it didn’t mean that she had to like him. He was still the aggravating thorn in her side.

“Likewise, Slayer.” His lips crushed back to hers, his tongue delving into her mouth in a motion similar to what he hoped to be doing in the upcoming minutes. If her mouth was that hot, wet and inviting, what would her quim be like? He didn’t even try to bite back the growl that surged as the young woman grasped his cock in her hand, pumping furiously.

Spike dropped one of the hands that held the Slayer and placed it over hers, slowing her movements. “Not too fast, love--you’re going to pull the bloody thing off.” Showing her a comfortable rhythm, he closed his eyes in obvious pleasure. “That’s more like it...” His own hand slid over to her pussy, fingers sliding along its folds, gauging her readiness. She was dripping wet, but the breathless mewl that came from her parted lips caused him to repeat the action, over and over again until she was writhing against his hand.

This wasn’t what she wanted from the bleached vampire. She just needed his cock. Not cool fingers with a slow, torturous motion, bringing her closer and closer to a release. Wiggling, she tried to squirm away from them, from him. As odd a thought as it was, this had become too personal for her. Mutual hand jobs were for boyfriendy types. Emotionless fucks were for despised enemies.

A mutual groan filled the dirty alleyway as Spike inserted one finger into the Slayer’s wet hole. Their immediate thoughts ranged from ‘Christ, she’s tight’ to ‘If that’s what one finger feels like, he’ll never fit’.

Buffy was the first to find her voice. “What. Are. You. Doing?!” She was this close to punching him in the nose.

This almost wasn’t worth the hassle. Almost. “Look. It’s gonna hurt, no matter how wet you are, ok? I’m just trying to make it so that it hurts less. Now, if you want, I can just thrust my cock up into you and start fucking, but I doubt you’re gonna like it.”

The Slayer’s eyes narrowed. He was right, of course. Stupid experienced vampire. “What makes you think I’m going to like it anyway?”

Curling his tongue behind his teeth, the vampire gave her his best knee-weakening leer. He inserted another finger and felt her grip on his cock tighten. “Cause I’m good, Slayer.”

Oh, how she wanted to wipe that arrogant grin off his face. One good punch and... And then she’d be alone. He and those magical fingers of his would be gone before she could say ‘dust’. What made her most angry, though, is that she fully believed that he was right in being so proud of himself. She hated to admit it--and would never do so out loud--but Spike had made her wetter in these past few moments than Angel ever had in their hours of fooling around.

And what the hell did that mean?!

Her introspection ended sharply when she felt the bleached blonde’s lips on her neck, tongue sweeping over her skin, mimicking the motions of his long, cool fingers. Slayer senses rang the alarm bell at the potential danger of a vampire so close to her jugular. She pulled him away from her with a fistful of hair before grinding out, through clenched teeth, her question du jour. “What are you doing?!”

That was the last straw for Spike. Pulling his fingers from her warmth, he took a step back and kicked at the wall, loosening the cracked mortar. “Bloody fucking hell! Will you just let me shag you already?! I can’t bloody well do this if you keep questioning every fucking thing I do. I know what I’m doing--now either you shut your gob and let me take the lead, or I’m going to go find something more pleasant to stuff my cock in.”

Buffy winced. His crude words stung, but she knew that he was right to be angry. He could have just fucked her, with no regard to whether or not she was ready. But instead he tried to make it pleasurable for her--as good as it could be, fucking her mortal enemy--and all she did was bitch. She brought her eyes in line with his, never wavering in her apology. “Look, I’m sorry. This has been a shit evening for me, and this,” she pointed to him and herself, “no matter how good it is, is wigging me out. I... I want you to continue. I want this, I really do.” Or at least, that’s what she told herself, over and over.

Her words were more than he’d expected and Spike nodded his acceptance. Stepping back towards her, he let out a snort, realizing that he’d had his hissy fit with his dick sticking out of his pants.

The vampire slid his fingers back up the Slayer’s strong thighs, one hand stopping at her centre and one continuing up to her breasts. His lips skated up the column of her neck and alit at her ear. Her heart was pounding, her breathing ragged, her nerves twitching. But she remained quiet and he wanted to change that. He wanted to see if she really was the begging kind.

The young woman jumped when she felt him twist her nipple, not hard enough to hurt but with just the right amount of pressure to feel really good. His thumb and forefinger rolled it and pulled it, while the rest of his hand kneaded her breast. At the apex of her thighs, his other hand had resumed its position at her entrance, two fingers sliding in and out of her, thumb teasing her clit. This was a very, very well coordinated vampire. His cool breath tickled her as he began to whisper hoarsely in her ear. “Christ, you’re so fucking tight, so wet. I want you to come for me, scream so loud my ears will be ringing for days...”

Spike’s voice faltered as he felt her take his cock back in her hand, resuming the pace he had helped her set earlier. Her small hand slid up and down its length, using his pre-cum as a lubricant. It took a few deep breaths before he could find his voice again--the irony of it didn’t escape him. “You’re gonna burn me, you know that? When I finally thrust up into your tight hole... oh yeah, like that... my eyes are going to water from the heat.”

Buffy caved in and lost herself in the moment. It didn’t matter that the hard body pressed up against her was her mortal enemy’s, it was no longer of importance that the man who was pleasuring her so successfully was the constant thorn in her backside. Right then, all that mattered was that she had found an outlet for her sexual desires.

And what an outlet, at that. His lips were on her neck, suckling at the same rhythm than his fingers’ movements against her clit. It was a hypnotizing combination, at once lulling her into a stupor and making her nerves sing. When she began to feel the telltale signs of an impending release her hand was batted away from Spike’s cock, to be replaced by his own. Guess the rapid breathing and increased heartbeat are a dead giveaway, she thought to herself wryly.

The last thing the vampire needed was to have his dick pulled off in the throes of passion. Anyway, he had to time this just right. Hopefully the sight of a writhing, wailing Slayer wouldn’t distract him too much...

Buffy threw her head back and let out a string of moans as her mind went blank, nothing but the sensations of her release existing at that moment. Then, almost before than she could register, she felt a stab of pain as Spike thrust into her. The discomfort was but momentary, quickly overcome by the feeling of the vampire’s erection inside of her.

When the young woman came down from her high, she noticed that Spike was still. Was something wrong? Why wasn’t he moving? Maybe he hadn’t wanted her to come right away. Great, you’ve probably ruined it and he’s all pissed off now. Figuring that she should right whatever wrong she’d committed, she attempted to move up his erection. That much, she knew.

But his hands gripped her, fingers digging into her hips painfully. He sounded pained, his voice tight. “Don’t!”

If she did that again, Spike knew that it would be over all too soon. Sure, a vamp can imagine what it’s like to be sheathed inside of a living, breathing girl, heart pumping, muscles twitching--especially those muscles, hot, wet, gripping him in their vice-like clutch. But one’s imagination, even at its best, is but a sepia-toned copy compared to the full Technicolor of reality.

Everything she was doing was wrong. This was so stupid; she should have let him walk away after his hissy fit, let him go find that ‘something more pleasant to stuff his cock into’. Cheeks flush with shame, she spoke up, her voice small and weak. “Look, I’m... I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong. I mean, you know I’ve never done this before, so..” God, this was so embarrassing. The Slayer grovelling to a vampire during sex of all things.

Spike’s head pulled back from the crook of her neck where it had been nestled and he let out a bark of humourless laughter.

Tears pooling in her hazel eyes, Buffy tried to push him away. This was no longer worth it. “You know what? Fuck you. Just get the fuck away from me...”

The rest of her rant was almost lost on the vampire as he attempted to subdue her. However, he did catch a “can’t believe you’re laughing at me” somewhere in among the words. Fighting the struggling girl, he forced her to meet his eyes. “It’s not you. It’s me, ok?” At her confused look, he elaborated. “Fuck, Slayer, you’re so tight, so hot. If you don’t give me a moment to collect myself, your first time isn’t going to last very long.”

Oh. Now she understood. Never breaking her gaze from his, Buffy nodded. Then, an evil thought came to her mind and, acting on impulse, she gave in. Biting her lip to avoid breaking out into a wide grin, she flexed her vaginal muscles, gripping the vampire’s cock even tighter.

And immediately regretted it when she found herself staring into amber eyes almost black with lust. He hadn’t vamped out, but it was apparent that he was close.

So she wants to play with fire, does she? For the first time that evening, Spike let his demon out--just a little--to play. He knew his fingers were bruising the Slayer, but the chit kept her mouth shut about it. Pulling her legs up so she would wrap them around his waist, the vampire began to drive into her at an unrelenting pace. Never one to leave a lady wanting, he angled his thrusts, aiming for the sweetest of spots.

He was going to kill her after all. ‘Death by sex’. Well, Buffy mused as her back grated against the coarse bricks of the alley wall, there are worse ways to go. As she felt his hard body pressed against hers, the young woman temporarily regretted the fact that they were still clothed. If her sense of touch was accurate, he was hiding a delicious body beneath those layers of black. Something that, even though they’d fought before, she’d never noticed before.

But the Slayer quickly dismissed that line of thought. This was still William the Bloody and, no matter how good he made her feel at that moment, she still hated him.

He didn’t care, and that scared him. He didn’t care that he was cock-deep in the Slayer, surrounded by her smell--she reeked of goodness, her stupid fake-blonde hair tickling his face, her legs wrapped around his waist taking him in to the hilt as he thrust into her like a man driven insane by lust. Because that’s what he was; as much as he loved Dru, it had been so bloody long since he’d just let it all out full force, all the frenetic energy that had been building up inside of him. And if anyone could take all he had, it was the Slayer, because she’d always been his match. Kick for kick, punch for punch, quip for quip--all 5 foot nothing of her.

There it was again. Buffy’s nerves began to tingle, her muscles twitching in anticipation of something big. She wondered, for a nanosecond, if an orgasm caused by intercourse would feel different than any other ones. Would it last longer? Would it feel better, or not as good? Would it... Would you stop thinking and just let it be?! There was no place for thinking in mindless rutting, which was what she and Spike were doing according to her. Just two people fucking for the sake of fucking, finding a release for pent-up energy.

Spike couldn’t take it any longer. He cared fuck all if the Slayer followed him over the precipice--he was sick of holding back. Giving a few final hard thrusts he roared out his release, using all his concentration on not sinking his fangs in the neck that lay bare just under his nose. Somewhere at the back of his muddled thoughts, he registered the young woman’s orgasm, hearing her piercing shriek. Guess she’d taken his ‘ear ringing’ invitation a bit too seriously.

Things quickly became awkward between the two blondes. Both sated, energies low, they had no idea how to deal with the aftermath of what they’d shared.

Buffy was the first to speak up. Straightening her skirt, she grimaced at the sticky feeling between her legs. “You wouldn’t happen to have some tissues or a handkerchief, would you?” She watched as the vampire dug through his pockets until he came up with a bloodied piece of cloth. Ignoring the proffered textile--whatever and whomever’s it was--she just gave him a dirty look.

“Fine. Suit yourself, Summers. You’re the one who’s gonna have my cum trailing down your legs.” Now that his lust was sated, the vampire had no reason to be remotely polite. Come to think of it, he didn’t even have to be in this stinking alley anymore. Ignoring her token catchphrase (’You’re a pig, Spike’), he gave her a two finger salute and sauntered off. “Been fun, but don’t expect it again. Next time you can find some other victim to scratch your itch.”

The young woman remained rooted on the spot, eyes shooting darts at the bleach blonde’s back. Although her physical need had been more than taken care of, something was missing. Strong arms holding her, sweet nothings whispered in her ear... the lack of affection created a void in the pit of her stomach, causing her to regret having been so weak.

Maybe Angel had been right. Maybe she hadn’t been ready after all.

Author's Note: Please let me know what you thought of this--I'm not sure if it's up to par, seeing as I've never written anything like it. Thanks!