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| The Substitute - Ch. 1 | | | | - - - abc | | | “I only care that he’s not here, and I got this nifty souvenir,” she told her friends. Turning, she placed the troll’s huge axe on the glass countertop then watched, shocked, as the weight of the object shattered the case, crashing down into the items displayed inside.
“Ooops.”
“The place is trashed enough anyways,” Xander told her.
“Well, see how well things worked out,” she nodded her head towards where he stood next to his girlfriend, Anya – the two cuddling close together. “And, look at you guys. So good and alive and together.” Unshed tears started forming in the slayer’s eyes as she spoke, much to the amazement of her friends.
“So together, and…good, and…alive,” the blond babbled on. She snagged a tissue, as she continued to ramble. “Oh god…I’m just so happy for you guys…”
The Scoobies watched as the slayer broke down in front of them.
“Oh, Buffy, it’s ok. See? And, it’s not like we can’t clean this up. Giles will never know,” Willow spoke as she circled an arm around her friend’s back in comfort – awkwardly patting her back.
“Speaking of…” Xander injected, trying to change the subject – anything to get Buffy to stop from crying. “Maybe we should see how the Bronze is holding up.”
“Xander’s right,” Willow replied. “We did just kinda leave.”
Together, the small group ushered out of the magic shop to make their way towards the Bronze. Outside the friends split up - Anya and Xander turned left to get his wrist looked at first, telling the others they would meet them there afterwards. The trio of females turned right – Buffy walked in the middle of the two wiccans, each with an arm around the petite blonde’s form as the two attempted to stop the slayer from crying.
~*~*~*~*~
“Theirs is a perfect love, right Wills,” Buffy slurred. Her left elbow was propped on the small, circular table, her head resting in her upturned palm. Well on her way to becoming drunk and wanting to achieve total, mind-numbing oblivion, she shakily brought the half-empty glass of beer to her lips with her right. In her nearly-drunken state, she ended up dribbling some of the contents down her chin – to the amusement of her friends.
Willow looked over Buffy’s head, gaining her girlfriend’s eye. Tara shrugged her shoulders…unsure what they could do to help the slayer.
“Uh, Buffy…don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“No…more beer. They said it was free after…after what happened today…so…more.” As if accentuating her point, she slammed the glass down on the table. “More beer,” she growled.
“Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…” the redhead told her.
“See,” Buffy inclined her head towards the remaining Scoobies as the walked over to the three girls – well she thought she did anyway, but she was drunk and it looked to the two girls sitting on either side of her that she was about to slump forward onto the table. “Perfect wuv…”
Willow glanced around, checking to make sure no one noticed how bad off her friend was, and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed Xander and Anya walking up to their table.
“Uh…Wills? What’s with the drunk!Buffy?”
“Don’t ask me, Xander. The management claimed it was a free-for-all since the damages from the incident…” Willow air-quoted the word incident, causing Xander to snort and roll his eyes. “…would be covered by insurance. So, Buffy here’s been steadily drinking since we got here.”
“Willow, that was over two hours ago!”
“You don’t have to tell me,” she stated, talking about the slayer as if she wasn’t even there – and in her drunken state, it would be a miracle if the blonde even remembered the conversation – telling the two, “she’s been going on and on about yours being a ‘perfect love’ and…gotta say…getting old. It’s your two’s turn to slayer-sit. Tara and I are gonna go dance.”
So saying, she stood up from the small table and grabbed her lover’s hand, leading her to the dance floor. Xander watched the redhead go, then heaved a big sigh and sat down, pulling Anya next to him.
“So…Buffy…”
“Perfect love…” she mumbled into her glass.
“Yeah, got that the first time. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“More beer!” she bellowed, holding her glass out for Xander to fill. Xander complied, but only poured half a glass. He got a passing waitress to bring him a glass and filled his to the brim, taking a long swallow to ease the ache in his wrist – then promptly sprayed the contents all over the table at Anya’s words.
“I think she’s sexually repressed,” Anya stated in her matter-of-fact tone.
“Wha? Ahn.”
Anya folded her arms across her chest and explained her theory to her boyfriend as if talking to a two year old. Buffy listened disinterestedly as the ex-demon began explaining her theory.
“Well, now that Riley is gone she’s no longer getting orgasms. And, after getting orgasms all this time, to not have them…well, it’s most frustrating. I know this because when you say we can’t have sex each day, I get frustrated. And, even with a vibrator, it’s not the same…although, that one with the dolphin…”
“Ahn!!!”
“What?”
Xander stared at his girlfriend in shock, ears and face bright red from embarrassment; the slayer just eyed the ex-demon curiously – as if she suddenly held the key to ending Buffy’s unhappiness.
“Remember the ‘right time and place’ rule? Definitely not the right time,” he told her.
“Why? I was just trying to explain why Buffy is drinking entirely too much alcohol. I am an ex-vengeance demon. I’ve seen this happen many times.”
“Really?” This from Buffy.
“Oh yes,” Anya nodded, warming to her topic now that she had gained a rapt audience. “See, the vibrator, although it does work in a pinch, it’s just not the same as having a man…” The rest was muffled as Xander slapped his good hand over his girlfriend’s mouth.
But, the message had been received, and Buffy eyed the male patrons with new interest. Because in all honesty, Anya was right…her trusty vibrator so wasn’t getting it done for her!
And, it had been weeks…
~*~
Upstairs, in a darkened corner of the Bronze, Spike was also well on his way to becoming smashed – yet for entirely different reasons.
“Just an innocent bystander,” he mumbled into his cup, before downing the shot in one quick gulp. He grabbed the bottle resting at his foot and poured another healthy dose of the amber liquid into his glass. “Didn’t want to be made a fool of, stupid bint…and then blaming me! Spike. All I did was show ‘er.”
A few patrons glanced at him as he talked to himself, but a quick growl and an evil glare had them turning away, ignoring his drunken ramblings. When he finished his bottle, he flagged down another waitress for a replacement.
Spike was glad he’d stuck around after the slayer and her friends had left to deal with the gargantuan troll. The manager had singled him out as one of the people who had tried to stop the beast from destroying his club, so had told Spike that he could have whatever he wanted for as long as he could drink it. Spike had just raised his scarred brow at the man and asked for a bottle of Jack. He could carry on his conversation with ‘Jim’ and ‘Jose’ once he was finished with his first friend.
As he sat there, several hours later, he’d accumulated a collection of empty bottles beside his chair. He’d even been able to get the waitress to bring him one of those onion things they did up so well. In all, the free food and drink went a long way towards making it a very good day for Spike.
Now, if he could just manage the slayer…
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy was getting disgusted. Every man that had walked by her table – and there had been lots once the word of free booze had gotten out – just didn’t seem to measure up to her standards…even taking into consideration how drunk she was.
She’d been in the bar for a total of four hours now, had consumed enough liquor to fell an entire fraternity, yet her finicky nature hadn’t managed to decide on a replacement for Riley. Even her friends had given up on her, having departed for home almost thirty minutes ago…leaving Buffy alone to drink by herself.
All the alcohol she had consumed had finally managed to catch up with her, and she staggered to her feet to weave her way to the ladies room. She bumped into a few people along the way, but they hadn’t seemed to mind…shoot, only the most die-hard drinkers were left in the place. And, the small group was so trashed… oh, the joys of being drunk! Good thing they were all happy drunks…
Buffy exited the bathroom with a smile on her face. Her bladder was definitely a happy camper. Swaying on her feet in time to the music, she sauntered up to the bar and asked the man for another beer. He eyed the petite – obviously drunk – girl before him, but shrugged and poured her a draft.
“Thank you,” she slurred, downing half the contents of the mug in a few quick swallows. A loud belch burst from her lips, and the bartender laughed for a moment before offering to top off her glass.
“Thank you,” she slurred again.
“Anytime.”
Buffy pushed herself away from the bar, and made her way to the stairs. Her bleary-eyed gaze took in the contraption before her…her inebriated state making the stairs seem like a complex math problem that required oodles of concentration, rather than the simple device of enabling someone to gain a higher level in the establishment. Gripping the railing, Buffy carefully made her way to the upper level – she’d fallen on her ass a few times but hadn’t spilled a drop of beer, a fact she was rather proud of.
The steady stream of music the DJ played drifted about her, and she walked to the railing to glance at the twirling figures below – that is until she almost got sick as a wave of vertigo suddenly hit her. She scrambled away from the edge, mindful of her full glass of beer. Which reminded her… She stopped in the middle of the floor and drained the glass; she was getting rather good at this. Satisfied with herself and her adaptability to the awful taste of beer, she let loose with another belch, depositing her empty mug on a vacant table.
“Keep the noise down,” a voice called out from the darkened corner.
“Why? Whadaya gonna do ‘bout it?” she slurred back, turning around in circles as she tried to find whoever it was talking to her.
After several pirouettes, she came to a stop as the turning motion became too much for her inebriated state. Closing her eyes with a groan, she stood in the middle of the room and waited for it to stop spinning. When she finally opened her eyes a minute later, she encountered the bleached vampire, ridges and fangs pronounced as if trying to scare her.
“Oh, Spike,” she exaggerated as she rolled her eyes. “It’s just you.”
“Hey! Why don’t you just stick a stake in my back? Scratch that…”
“Ooohhh…” she rolled her eyes at her peroxide tormentor. Then, her eyes lit on the drink he was holding before she glanced down to her empty hands. ‘Where’d my glass go?’ she thought to herself – already forgetting she had put it down once she’d emptied it.
“Whadaya drinkin’?” she asked the vampire as she eyed the contents of his glass.
His gaze narrowed on her lips as if he could decipher what she’d just asked him. He noticed her eyes locked on his glass, and watched – groaning to himself – as she licked her lips in anticipation.
“’S a man’s drink. You don’t want none ‘a that.”
Buffy let out an inelegant snort and snatched the glass out of the unsuspecting vampire’s hand.
“Hey!” he shouted, and watched as the slayer downed the half-full glass of scotch.
“More,” she demanded, holding out the empty glass to him.
“‘More’ she says,” he mumbled under his breath as he snatched the glass out of her hand and turned away to walk back to his chair. An evil leer came over his features as he filled the glass to the rim and held it out to her, arching his scarred brow in challenge.
Buffy walked over where he stood in the darkened corner.
“Pfft,” she snorted, taking the glass and downing the entire contents right before his eyes. Her throat had long since gone numb from all the alcohol she’d consumed. Spike just watched her in bug-eyed amazement as her throat muscles worked as she drained the amber liquid from the glass.
Finished, she held out the drained glass in triumph. Not to be outdone, Spike filled the glass full and easily matched her. He held the empty glass before her between his thumb and forefinger as he shook it tauntingly – giving the slayer his trademark smirk.
“Pour,” she demanded, setting off the challenge. Two more bottles and an equal amount of hours later, the two adversaries reluctantly declared a draw. Glancing around, they noticed that they were the last two patrons left in the Bronze. They staggered to their feet, and practically fell into each other’s arms to remain upright…too drunk to care who they were groping.
Wrapping one arm around the other, Spike and Buffy leaned heavily on each other as they carefully made their way to the stairs.
“Spike? Is the room spinning?”
Buffy stepped down onto the first step and promptly lost her balance. Vampire and slayer tumbled over each other on their descent to the ground floor. They landed in a tangle of arms and legs, much to the amusement of the bartender.
“Ow! Bloody hell, slayer! It is now,” Spike growled as he grabbed his head. He leaned up on his elbows and glanced to where Buffy lay sprawled next to him. “You alright?”
“Just peachy,” she muttered, unconsciously copying his movement and cradling her head in her hands.
Spike stood and offered his arm to the slayer, which she took without hesitation. Honestly, without assistance, she wasn’t sure if she would have been able to get up. The room had started to super spin and Buffy felt like she was on a merry go round gone wild.
“Come on, slayer. Let’s get you home,” he told her. Well, that’s what he thought he said, but with as much as he had had to drink, it was probably less cognizant.
~*~*~*~*~
The blast of cold air forced a startled gasp from Buffy. Clad in only her silky tank top, her arms were left exposed to the chilly night air. Still drunk, she leaned into the bleached vampire as if to seek warmth. Spike, for his part, was elated. He wasn’t quite so drunk that he didn’t realize that the slayer was curling up to him. Trying to get on her good side after the whole Riley fiasco, he slipped off his duster and settled it around her shoulders.
“Mmmm…warm,” she purred, plastering herself to the vampire’s side as he settled his arm around her shoulder.
Spike swallowed hard, closing his eyes in anguish as his cock responded to her velvety voice. He’d just see the slayer home and then hurry to his crypt so he could wank off to the fantasies of having her in his arms.
“Goodnight, Buffy,” he finally told her once they reached her porch. Probably the two hardest words he’d ever said in his entire unlife. Especially given the dazed – still drunk – expression on her face. As he turned and walked down the cement path to the street, he couldn’t believe he was walking off and leaving her there. Alone. Untouched. He was turning into a right bloody git!
~*~*~*~*~
His hand – and mental images – had just about worked him into orgasm when he heard his crypt door slam open and feet stomp across the upper level.
“Spike!”
Naked, he plopped back on the bed…groaning in frustration. Leave it to the slayer to interrupt his hand job.
“Spike!” she hollered again.
He wasn’t going to answer. She’d find the trap door soon enough, and if she was crazy enough to come below…well, she’d be in for an eyeful. The thought of her actually seeing him like this caused a groan to escape his mouth, and his hand returned to his throbbing cock.
Caught up in his fantasies once more, he didn’t hear Buffy as she climbed down the stairs to his bedroom. The pace on his hand increased as the images in his mind once more played havoc with his senses. Then, his body tightened and twitched as he erupted onto his hand and stomach, his head thrown back into the pillows as his hand milked his cock dry. Replete, his bones turned to jello and he lay limp on the bed.
As he became aware of his surroundings, his nose caught whiff of the slayer, and he opened startled eyes as his eyes locked with hers. They widened in shock as they caught the scent of her arousal. His nostrils flared as he watched her strip, letting her clothes fall to the ground beside her. Then she was moving, climbing up onto the bed and straddling his naked frame. His softening cock quickly hardened at the sight, and he dared not move in case it was some dream his twisted mind had concocted.
“Anya had the right of it,” she slurred drunkenly. “’S not the same.”
Spike wasn’t sure what she was talking about…even if it were a dream. He had not time to think about it; however, as Buffy grabbed his shaft and impaled herself on him.
“Oh, god…Buffy,” he groaned, grabbing her hips and holding her in place. Her pussy was liquid heat, enflaming him, and Spike thought he’d died and gone to heaven. His eyes opened and gazed upon her…golden locks cascading along her back, made longer because her head was thrown back in rapture. Her breasts, perfectly formed, ached for his touch, and he reluctantly removed his hands from her hips so that he could fondle them – rubbing each nipple between thumb and forefinger, coaxing them to even harder pebbles.
She groaned from her spot above him, thrusting her chest into his hands. Spike hauled himself to a sitting position so he could taste her. God, he wanted to lick every inch of her body…and now that she was here, he planned to do just that. Only now… now he had to move.
Flipping the slayer to her back, he thrust deep into her pussy, groaning as her inner muscles caressed his plunging cock. He pulled back, almost all the way out of her passage, and would have smirked if he could as her hands clenched his ass to haul him back to her. As it was, he could only sink back into her depths as the feeling of being inside her was overloading his senses.
Beneath him, he felt her grind her clit into his pubic bone and he set a steady rhythm…sliding in and out of her slickened channel as his thumb slipped between their joined bodies to work over her swollen clit. Her legs slipped around his back, her ankles locking herself in place. Spike could feel his eyes roll back in his head as he slipped a little deeper. Finesse went by the wayside as the demands of his body overcame him. Bare flesh smacked against bare flesh as their pace increased…the noise breaking the silence of the underground chamber of the crypt.
Buffy’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close for a mind-numbing kiss. Her tongue slipped between his parted lips to tangle with his. Their mouths slanted back and forth as they tasted each other. Buffy tore her mouth from his, finally needing air. She trailed kisses along his jaw until she latched onto his earlobe. Her tongue darted out to wet the shell, then played a peek-a-boo with his ear canal. Once thoroughly wet, she blew softly over his ear.
Her warm breath caused shivers to run down his spine…and his control to snap. With a growl, he buried his face in her neck and pumped his cock into her pussy. He could see the blood pumping in her veins, could smell their joint arousal perfuming the air. If he was the least bit sober, he might have hesitated. As it was, the alcohol prevented him from thinking clearly…and it prevented her from stopping him.
But, as his face shifted against her neck, he couldn’t deny himself a little taste – and he knew it would send her over the edge. As gently as he could, he sank his fangs into her neck…and nearly came right then as her blood rushed into his waiting mouth.
Buffy felt the first pull, and her eyes widened in shock. The second pull caused her eyes to flutter shut once more as a groan escaped her lips. The third caused her body to shudder in orgasm…her arms and legs holding him tight as her inner muscles convulsed around his cock. Spike couldn’t last…between her blood in his mouth and his cock sliding in and out of her quivering pussy…he could no more hold back his orgasm than the sun could stop from shining.
Her name slipping past his lips, he thrust one last time and emptied himself within her womb. With a groan, he collapsed on top of her, carefully pulling his fangs from her neck and licking the wounds closed. He lay there for a moment before reluctantly pulling out of her and shifting to her side, slipping his arms around her to hold her close. He nuzzled her neck as he felt her body relax into his as she drifted off to sleep.
Not wanting to wake to a stake to his chest, he vowed to stay awake and just hold her for a bit as she slept. Moments later, he too, joined the slayer in slumber.
Best laid plans…
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| The Substitute - Ch. 2 | | | | - - - abc | | | Spike groaned as he grabbed his head; he felt as if it were spinning from all the drink he’d consumed earlier. Then he felt the heat wrapped around his cock and he thought vaguely that he’d managed to run around outside naked and got caught by the sun. But, he didn’t smell or feel any burning flesh, so he gave himself over to the heat.
And it was good…
This time he moaned, a half-sigh of pleasure as he felt something flick against the underside of his penis. He wanted to open his eyes, see what it was that was slowly drawing his body tighter and tighter until he threatened to explode in release, yet…to open his eyes would mean the dream would disappear…a figment of his imagination that would vanish without a trace as soon as the real world intruded. So, for now, he kept them closed – eyelids pressed in on each other with such force it would take a crowbar to pull them apart – and arched his hips to thrust himself deeper into the searing heat.
All too soon the heat left him, and he almost wept at the loss – hands fisted in the sheets by his side to keep himself pulling his hair out in frustration. He felt a whisper-soft caress over his thighs, then the heat was back, enveloping his cock whole. Blinding in its intensity – so much so, that he had to open his eyes to see the cause of it.
What he saw took his breath away; he had to blink several times to make sure that what he was seeing was actually real. He opened his mouth in astonishment, tried to voice his pleasure, but the image of her bouncing up and down on his cock, her head thrown back in abandonment, reduced him to…well…
His eyes rolled back into his head as she leaned over and thrust her tongue in his mouth. What she lacked in finesse in her still drunken state, she made up for in sheer passion. Spike would take her any way he could get her…for as long as he could have her. She’d probably stake him once she sobered up, but right now, as her inner walls gripped him mercilessly as she rode him to oblivion, he thought: what a way to go.
Her pace increased, he could feel her getting close – her movements were jerky and erratic – and he lifted one hand from where it was clutching the sheets and brought it up to her engorged clitoris. Using his thumb, he began slow, tortuous circles, the light touch doing much more for her than a hard twist would. He felt her shudder around him, coating his engorged staff with her release. Gripping her hips in both hands he bucked up into her, his teeth clenched in passion as the feel of her milking him drove him near insane. He couldn’t take it anymore and easily flipped them so he could drive her willing body deeper into the mattress as he sought his own relief.
He felt her legs wrap around his waist, her arms slide about his neck, pulling his head into the crook of her neck…she just didn’t know the temptation she provided. His eyes glazed to amber as he noticed his marks from earlier marring her neck – realized he was licking his fangs in anticipation of penetrating that soft flesh once more.
Lifting his head, he glanced down at her flushed features as he thrust repeatedly into her slickened passage. Her eyes opened and he saw the glazed eyes still subjected to the mass amounts of alcohol she’d consumed and, though it nearly killed him, he paused his relentless assault on her body.
Her loopy gazed fixed on his more sober, amber one, and she smiled at him. He couldn’t help himself and gave her a toothy grin in return.
“Bumpies,” she giggled, removing one hand from around his neck to caress his ridged brow. Above her, Spike closed his eyes and moaned – he couldn’t prevent the lunge of his hips as he drove himself deeper into her dripping pussy. But, then he remembered she wasn’t exactly sober!Slayer and stilled again. Her fingers continued to work their magic and he was loathe to stop…wanted nothing more than to continue his aggressive fucking and spend himself within her body.
But, she’d hate him even more, him taking advantage of her like this – even if she had initiated it.
“Buffy,” he spoke, her name coming out somewhere between a whine and a plea. “We’ve…gotta stop… You’ll…you’re…gonna hate me…and I’m just setting myself up for a right dandy staking.”
He looked down at her after he spoke, watched the frown mar her previously happy features.
“More,” she demanded quietly, her lip jutting out in a pout. ‘Oh God… not the pouty lip. Doesn’t she realize how sexy that looks?’
“No, slayer…luv,” he began.
His eyes nearly crossed when she tightened her legs grip about his waist and thrust upward, pulling him that much deeper inside her heat.
“Spike, please…feels so good…”
Bloody hell…
Who did she think he was? There was no way in hell he could refuse a plea like that. Burying his face in her neck, his constraint snapped. The bed shook with the force of his thrusts as he pounded into her again and again. He felt her arch up into him, seeking to get closer. Her head pushed back into the pillows, exposing once more, her delectable neck to his perusal. His mouth watered as he watched her arteries pulsing just beneath the surface of her skin, couldn’t stop himself from licking the path – tasting the salty essence of her.
Spike could feel his balls tightening, announcing his pending orgasm. His fangs trailed back and forth along her jugular, lightly nicking her skin. He almost came at the small drops of her blood that suddenly filled his mouth. His nearly sober mind marveled at the lack of mind-numbing headache, and he wondered how much further he could take it.
His fangs lightly pierced her flesh in the exact same spot as before to minimize any pain…then he paused. Nothing. Not even a warning jolt. He slowed his thrusts to a lazy pace, forcing a groan of frustration from Buffy. She’d been so close. But, as the headlong bang gave way to slow lovemaking, she became aware of another sensation – another penetration – near her neck. And, it felt good. Wanting more, she lifted her neck, pushing his fangs deeper into her neck.
Her eyes widened at the pleasure-pain and she gripped the back of his head and yanked him close, bring his lips flush with her skin.
“Ohhhh… Spike,” she moaned.
Above her, Spike thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He stilled within her, savoring the contact of being fully seated with both cock and fang. He’d never thought he’d have this…at least with her. As a neutered vamp, he thought he’d never be able to taste human blood from the source again. And, that it was now freely given…and from the slayer?
She was getting restless beneath him…needing the friction of his length sliding in and out of her core…and a little sucking at her neck would be nice. The haze of alcohol was wearing off and only the sensations of the dual penetration pierced her mind.
She was in bed…with Spike. Evil, soulless vampire. ‘Who loves you.’ And, he’s got his fangs in your neck. ‘Which feel wickedly good.’ And, he’s drinking your blood. ‘Little sips, and again with the wickedly good.’ And he’s fucking me. ‘No, he’s making love to you, so shut up and enjoy it.’ Ok.
“Mmmm…more,” she demanded breathlessly.
Spike’s body rippled above hers as her hands roved over his back; his slow, deep thrust left her breathless and needy, the tentative sips at her neck teased her senses just enough. But she needed more…harder, faster, deeper. She wanted it all. No more timid lovemaking by “normal” men or first loves. Give her all the passion, the emotion, the lust, and…the love.
Her body craved that which it had never known.
She pulled his hair in an attempt to get him to look at her. Immediately, he slipped his fangs from her neck and looked down at her, his human features covering that of his demon.
He glanced down and was sucked in by her hazel gaze – her sober, hazel gaze – and stilled…and he waited. Waited for her to flick him off her like so much trash and stake his undead ass.
Beneath him, Buffy watched the dread flood his body, could feel him softening inside her.
Couldn’t have that!
Her eyes narrowed on him and she told him bluntly, “I want it all,” and was nearly blinded with the radiance of his smile. She couldn’t help the answering grin. Felt him rapidly expanding in her again and wiggled her eyebrows at him.
He burst out laughing. She did too.
Then he pulled almost all the way out of her body and thrust home. She stopped laughing. He did too. Again the two were caught up in slow lovemaking. Buffy urged his face back down to the dripping marks he’d left on her, felt goose bumps break out along her flesh as he shifted against her neck. His tongue swept out to lick up the twin trails of blood before resettling his fangs over the holes. He hesitated and Buffy took over, grabbing his head and thrusting it down so he imbedded himself once again.
Two groans of pleasure permeated the air and she arched up towards him, straining to get even closer. They’d both been denied release for so long that their slow rhythm quickly gave way to rapid thrusting…naked flesh slapping against naked flesh as the demands of their bodies tore away their will. Eager to seek release from such pleasurable torment, their movements increased to a fevered pitch, the bed beneath them rocked beneath their straining bodies.
Buffy was so damn close now…it was like nothing she’d ever felt before: mind-consuming passion…and maybe a little bit of love. She felt cherished. As his cock plunged the depths of her passage she felt it deep within…as if he were touching her soul. That revelation was all it took for her to go hurdling off the cliff she’d been poised upon. With a cry of his name, she spasmed around his length, the force of her orgasm causing her limbs to shake as they wrapped around his body.
Spike for his part, tried to hold on. He wasn’t ready for it to end. But, as her inner walls milked his cock, he pulled hard on her neck and flooded her womb with his release. Carefully, he slipped his fangs from her throat, lovingly licking the traces of blood that oozed from the holes until the healing properties of saliva allowed them to close over. Satisfied she’d been properly taken care of, he allowed his weary body to collapse on top of hers.
They lay there, in a tangle of arms and legs, oblivious to the shambles of the bedding barely clinging to the mattress. Buffy panted heavily, her body unused to the physically demanding nature of Spike’s lovemaking. Her past partners had never asked for her all, so she’d never given it. With Spike…he demanded it. And, in return, she did the same.
The two of them were matched. She ignored her inner voice that said he was a demon…was evil. Oh sure, he liked to act all big and bad. But, when it came to her, he was a big puppy dog. He loved her…she knew that now. Images of their previous romp had her blushing. But as she recalled him trying to stop because he thought he’d been taking advantage…yeah, he cared. It caused warm fuzzies to "curl" in her stomach at the thought.
Spike took her slight twitching as a sign that he was becoming to heavy for her and reluctantly pulled out of her warmth. Before she had time to even voice a protest, he settled himself securely at her side, pulling her back against his chest to lie nestled in his arm. He was amazed she didn’t protest the action, was surprised she wasn’t rising from the bed to find a nice piece of wood. Instead, she snuggled closer and sighed happily drifting off into slumber.
“’night, Spike,” she murmured just before sleep overtook her.
“Goodnight, Buffy,” he replied brushing his lips against her hair as he settled himself behind her. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep as well, a smile on his face.
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