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DISCLAIMER: Spike, Buffy and tha whole Sunnydale gang belong to Joss Whedon and countless corporate entities that aren’t me. This fic is for entertainment, non-profit purposes only.

Author: MissMishka
Distribution: Here & Adultfanfiction.net so far. If you’d like to archive it just lemme know where it’s going. :-)
Feedback: Loved! Review or send email to missmishka@aol.com

Spoilers: Up to 6x06 "All the Way," but nothing major
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Rating: NC-17 for all the smut parts.

Huge thanks to my new beta Monica. :-)


A Nice Leather Collar

Buffy: Bell. Neck. Look into it.
Spike: Come with a nice leather collar does it?

~ All the Way ~


He sealed his fate by sneaking up on me while I was patrolling last night.

It had been another one of those cold, eerie nights where the cemetery was all foggy like it had been on Halloween and, I admit, that made me a bit jumpy. My spidey sense was tingling all over the place, telling me that there was at least one fledgling preparing to rise and while I was carefully walking among the fresh graves waiting for it’s arrival a hand had suddenly descended on my shoulder. I refuse to label the sound that escaped me at that moment a shriek, it was simply a startled exclamation that I unleashed as I whipped around to kill whatever had caused the very un-Slayer-like noise. Seeing Spike as the culprit hadn’t really quelled that urge to slay.

Fortunately for him, unfortunately for my wrath, he’d realized quickly that he’d picked a bad moment and taken off before I could do anything but glare at him murderously. I’d quite happily taken my anger out on the vampire that popped out of her grave a few moments later, venting my confusion over what was happening between Spike and myself at the stranger between kicks and punches before finally winding down and just dusting her.

The whole incident is what led me here today. I said it myself yesterday when he startled me in the basement of the Magic Box when I went in search of mandrake root, he seriously needed to wear a bell.

Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, I scold myself as the reminder of that brief encounter brings to mind his ‘Feel like a bit of the rough and tumble’ comment and the same very bad thoughts that had instantly filled my head then.

Spike and me. Rough and tumbling.

Without clothes.

Clenching my eyes shut, I force myself to think of other things until the far too tempting images fade. After a few moments and some very disturbing visualizations of the newly engaged Anya and Xander playing ‘shiver me timbers,’ I open my eyes again and focus on the store display before me.

I honestly don’t know why I’m here. I should just get a cowbell and tie it around his damned neck, but he’d gone and filled my head with images of him wearing a ‘nice leather collar.’

And nothing else, an inner voice reminds me and I again have to think unpleasant thoughts to get rid of that tantalizing image.

Temporarily in control of my libido once more, I study the black leather collars available in the adult novelty store I cannot believe I’m standing in! and try valiantly to keep my attention from straying to the other items available. It was a hopeless effort, though, so I just reach out and grab the first neck piece on the rack before walking briskly to the counter to pay for the damned thing. All the while questioning my sanity and denying that I had any real interest in those whips or sexy leather outfits or that really big "Big Daddy" dildo that claimed to be realistic and lifelike despite the fact that at eight inches long and three inches in diameter it seemed unnaturally large compared to the penises I’ve seen in real life.

A stray thought as to what Spike’s … organ … would look like runs through my head and sends me into another bad thoughts and naughty mental image feast until the cashier’s attempts to get my attention finally work and with a blush I realize it’s my turn in line.

"Would you like a leash to go along with this?" the woman behind the register asks politely.

Oh, God, I’ve become one sick puppy, I groan as the idea of having Spike on a leash creates all kinds of very wicked scenarios in my head.

"Miss?" the cashier again snaps me out of my erotic reverie.

"Oh … um … no," I finally answer, embarrassed by my preoccupation. "No leash," I inform her firmly, hoping my saying it aloud like that will get the thoughts out of my head. "Oh," I remember suddenly what the collar’s for, "do you have any bells?"


My blush intensifies at the look she gives me, but as I’m never coming back here as long as I live and I’ll hopefully never see her again I figure I might as well just forget my modesty and get what I came for.

"Yes, I want to attach a bell to the collar."

"Oh," her look clears up with an understanding smile prompting me to wonder if perhaps I’d misspoken or she’d misheard me the first time. "We do, actually. They’re right here," she moves to the left and points to an area along the wall that bore an assortment of a few various sized bells and a lot of pet toys.

Curious about why those were there, but not about to ask I look over the selection, testing each bell until I find the one with the ring I like best. Satisfied I hand her the bauble then look around absently as she thoughtfully hooks the bell to the collar for me and finishes calculating the purchase. The adult videos catch my eye, once again causing me to blush at the sexually explicit images on their covers that get me thinking all kinds of things I shouldn’t be thinking and wondering if my body can bend and twist like that.

"Will that be all?"

I snap around guiltily from my contemplation of a video bearing the image of a blonde man that, if you looked at it just right, looked a bit like Spike.

"Yes," I answer quickly and gratefully hand over the credit card Giles had provided me with for ‘necessities’ to complete the transaction.

The second she return the card to me along with the discreet black bag containing my new items I turn and walk quickly from the shop, ignoring all the intriguing pleasure devices and the cashier’s invitation to ‘Come again.’ Unable to believe I had really actually gone into that place I continue moving at a rapid pace to put as much distance between myself and it as possible.

Relax, it’s not like you bought any of the good stuff. You got a collar. Big whoop. You can pretend you got it from a pet store, that wicked inner voice scoffs.

Relaxing at that thought, I slow my stride and begin contemplating what to do next.

Should I go ahead and give it to him?

Wait until the next time he startles me then attempt to strangle him with it to make sure he learns never to do that again?

Keep it hidden somewhere in my room and take it out every so often to inspire even more vivid and erotic fantasies of Spike and myself?

Groaning at that one, I head toward the Magic Box where I got roped into helping Anya out again with her continued ‘post-holiday clearance.’


While Anya closed out the register for the day and did her apparently daily ‘dance of capitalistic superiority’ I sneak off to the bathroom.

I tell myself I’m not trying to look good for him as I fuss with my hair and apply some makeup, but I’m not very convincing. My thoughts are focused on the shopping bag I’ve hidden behind the counter in the shop while I worked and I know darn well I’m getting ready to go see him. I tug at the hem of my slim, mid-calf length black skirt and run a hand over my short sleeved pastel blouse to smooth out invisible wrinkles, wondering if this is the outfit to wear for the meeting.

Part of me, that part that I just know is gonna be getting me in trouble tonight, is demanding I rush home and change into something leather and discreetly slutty that Spike’s sure to like while my more sensible side is calling for butch concealing clothes. Both seem to agree that a change is needed from the soft femininity of this outfit.

Telling myself that I don’t need to change because nothing’s going to happen, I’m just going to give him the stupid collar and we’ll go patrol, I forcibly stop my primping and leave the room.

That’s all, I inform myself sternly. No rough and tumbling.

At least not with each other, I concede hoping that there’ll be some nice distracting demons to vent on.

The others were all laughing and talking sociably as they cleaned up and I move quietly, I wasn’t sneaking, to retrieve my package then leave the shop without disrupting their festivities.

There’s still some time before sunset and as I walk toward Spike’s crypt I wonder if he’ll be awake already. He usually is, seeming to always be up and about watching TV or something, which often makes me wonder if he ever actually sleeps.

I arrive at my destination and brace myself for seeing him again. Putting on my indifferent mask and steadying my pulse and breathing, not that they were erratic or anything. Except from exertion from the walk over.

Yeah, an inner voice scoffs, you’re so out of shape it’s the walking of three blocks that has your heart thumping like mad.

Ignoring that I tighten my hold on the black plastic bag I’m carrying and open the crypt door and step inside, senses on high alert for any sign of Spike. Especially behind me as I venture further into the tomb. My eyes scan the chamber, lingering on every shadowed nook and cranny, and it becomes obvious he’s not up here.

Shoulda already known that by the fact that the television wasn’t on.

Not really wanting to revisit his shrine to me or go down memory lane to him chaining me up while declaring that obsessive love of his for me, I reluctantly kick aside the rug covering the hole down to the cavern below and jump down through the opening.

It’s softly lit by candles rather than the flaming torches I remember and as I scan the area I see a great many other changes. The décor is quite posh, like he’d told me not too long ago, with lush oriental rugs strewn over the dirt and rock floor. He had actual furniture, a dresser in which I guess he kept his limited wardrobe, in addition to a few sarcophaguses he apparently used as tables. The most notable changes, though, were the removable of the shrine and the very big four poster bed dominating the space.

I wonder briefly at what the shrine’s absence means, then just forget it because it’s dismantling had to be a good thing.

My thoughts and attention quickly zero in on the bed.

Which is occupied.

By a soundly sleeping and barely covered Spike.

He’s sprawled out on his stomach with an ivory colored sheet twisted around his waist. His muscular back is visible as is the entire length of his pale left leg making it rather obvious that he’s naked.

Sleeps in the nude. Good to know, I record that fact with a bit more interest that I should.

Without even realizing it my feet have carried me to the bedside and I’m now standing just inches from that lean, pale, naked, male and very tempting frame, fighting the urge to reach out and touch it.

It’s a losing battle and, telling myself I’m just waking him up, I bend forward, place the shopping bag quietly down on the floor then extend a hand to lightly brush his bare calf with my fingertips. The strength in his muscle, even relaxed as it was in slumber, sends a shiver through my body as I move my hand further upward. When I reach the back of his knee his leg twitches, but that the meaning of that movement doesn’t really compute as I continue on to his thigh. My fingers feel soft light colored hairs the higher they go and, intrigued by them, I automatically climb onto the mattress so that I can explore more when I find myself unable to do so from my standing position.

My skirt gets hiked up around my thighs as I kneel next to his prone form and when his bare foot unexpectedly bumps against my exposed calf I jerk back and almost fall right back off the bed. Freezing as the moment reminds me of the situation, I clench my eyes shut in fear that he may be waking up. When he doesn’t move again and I don’t hear any snarky comments from him regarding my presence in his bed I slowly crack an eye open to verify that he’s still asleep. As I realize that he has remained undisturbed by me, I guess that’s what the whole ‘sleeping like the dead’ thing means, I bite my lower lip and find myself debating what to do next.

Rational option: carefully get my ass off this bed, get out of the crypt and pretend this didn’t happen.

Irrational option: carefully continue my exploration and pray he doesn’t wake up before I’ve satisfied some of my curiosity.

If I were in a rational state of mind, I wouldn’t be here to begin with, I concede as my eyes move to watch his face carefully for any signs of stirring while I place my hand lightly on his shoulder.

Again his musculature fascinates me, causing my fingertips to linger over tracing the bumps and hollows of each muscle beneath the layer of his pale skin. I forcibly resist the urge to curl my hand around his bicep as I skim down his arm. His hand doesn’t get as much attention as I would have liked, fearing too much playing with his fingers would wake him, but I do get a feel of it before running my exploring digits back up his arm.

Hesitantly I begin drifting down his spine, tracing each vertebrae and growing ever closer to the sheet that conceals his naked butt from me. Unbidden my eyes go from watching his face to following the journey of my fingers as they reach the barrier and begin tracing the flesh just above the bunched fabric.

Without consciously intending to, that sounded like a plausible story so I’ll be sticking to it till my next dying day, I begin inching the sheet downward with the motions of my hand. Holding my breath as I all too slowly uncover the firm mounds of his ass I force myself to keep up the steady movements and not give into my urge to impatiently rip the damned blanket aside.

Finally it’s bared to my gaze and hand and I eagerly explore the new terrain with both. Desire dilates my pupils and hardens my nipples as my fingers skate over his taut cheeks and I instantly begin imagining myself digging my fingernails into that resilient flesh to pull him deeper and harder into me as he pounds my willing body into this bed.

The fantasy is so real I can almost feel our bodies slapping together. Hear that heated meeting of flesh, the pleasured moans and groans from both our lips and the squeaking of the mattress from our frantic actions.

There are too many realities missing from the fantasy, though.

Like how the skin I’m touching tasted. How he kissed when he wasn’t all banged up by a torturing bitch-God like Glory or under a spell. How much he’d fill me. How hard or gentle he’d take my body.

Would he talk during? Whisper wicked or sweet nothings into my ear and make me whimper as that damned accent of his makes me all wet and weak for him?

I have to clamp my thighs together as the idea of him talking during sex makes me ache with emptiness and the need for fulfillment while coating my pussy with aroused moisture. I’ve no doubt he’s a very verbal lover considering he never shuts the hell up any other time. In fact, I’m rather surprised he isn’t talking in his sleep. Angel, Parker and Riley hadn’t said very much aside from the odd conciliatory comment or question about how I liked this or that. The idea of Spike – of someone, I correct quickly – talking dirty to me in that situation was suddenly very appealing.

Determinedly shaking those thoughts away when I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan caused by them, I refocus on the body I’m touching and cautiously glance up at his face again. His expression was still relaxed in slumber, his angular features softened by sleep making him look endearingly young and boyish in that moment. Distracted by that sight I lift my other hand to lightly touch his face, brushing over his scarred eyebrow, high cheekbones and slightly parted lips. When his nose twitches as my caresses tickle it and I quickly remove both hands from his body then sit there tense and breathless until I’m sure I haven’t woken him just yet.

After a moment of no further movements I let out a sigh and reluctantly agree with my inner voice of reason that’s screaming about how I have to stop now. With extreme care and caution I readjust the sheet to cover his butt then begin inching toward the edge of the mattress. Unable to resist satisfying one last curiosity before I get off the bed and start pretending none of this happened, I bend down and press my mouth to the small of his back. Wanting just a small taste to remember for my fantasies I slowly part my lips and allow my tongue to flick out and run lightly over a small patch of his skin. Nothing memorable hits my tastebuds from the fleeting touch, so I lean in further and repeat the gesture with more contact upon his flesh.

"’s not a good idea to climb into bed with a vamp who expects to wake up alone, luv," I freeze with the flat of my tongue glued to his back and my eyes popping open in horror. "When he finds out he’s got company his first reaction’s to attack whatever’s joined him. Lucky for you I recognized your scent," Spike informs me casually as he rolls onto his back, putting my face right at his crotch which did not remained covered during the shift in position.

His erection bumps against my chin, snapping me out of my frozen state and with a definite shriek, after a quick look at his length, I scramble away from him and promptly fall off the edge of the bed. I lay there on the rugs surrounding the bed, shocked that I’ve gotten myself into this mess and reeling at the knowledge that the ‘Big Daddy’ dildo I’d seen hours ago in that shop wasn’t really so big compared to what I’d just seen on Spike.

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