Thanks to Megan for the quick read-through.
I really, really doctored up this chapter. Made it worthy of the rating, I think, where it hadn't been before. Hope you all like.
Part Six
There were times when quiet killed. Buffy had thought things would be better if Spike stopped talking, but she was incredibly wrong. After just a few minutes of his eyes watching her heatedly, she found herself fidgety and self-conscious.
Spike finally sighed his resignation. “So…” he said slowly. “How’s Joyce?”
Logic told her not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Her mouth, unfortunately, didn’t get the memo. “You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“What you did to me…just a few minutes ago…and then ask about my family as if you care.”
The vampire huffed indignantly, and she saw frustration flash behind his confused eyes. Funny how his gaze could reflect and he could not. It wasn’t fair; Angel had never revealed as much in all the time she had known him—much less delivered such a colorful statement through a single look.
“It’s not all about you, princess. I like your mum. She’s got spunk.”
“Yeah. And you’d kill her the minute you got the chance.”
He arched a cool brow. “I’ve had the chance. Remember? If I wanted that, she’d’ve been dead a long time ago.” Spike shook his head. “You never locked me out.”
“Something I intend to fix as soon as I get out of here.”
“That was Dru’s first clue,” he continued, speaking as though she had not. “I have an invite to your place an’ haven’t offed the lot of you. Din’t even touch your mum. Dru can’t understand things like that. There are very few humans that I like, an’ your mum happens to be one of them. Dru can’t handle that.”
“She shouldn’t. It’s not natural.”
Spike ignored her. “I don’ get it. I’m the Big Bad. I’ve done things…an’ she said I wasn’ demon enough for her. Jus’ because I helped you save the world.”
Buffy was not impressed. “And killing two slayers doesn’t make you monstrous enough for her? Is it because she took out Kendra in the process? Killing everybody you’ve—”
“I can’t help that,” he retorted pointedly. “Don’ feel rotten about it, either—killin’ the slayers, that is. Best nights of my unlife—I’d give anythin’ to do them over again. Add in a few moves an’ spunk that I could brag about now.”
She shivered in disgust. “More than you already do?”
“Hell yeah. An’ once I get outta here, I’ll go find someone to eat right quick. That’s what I do.” Spike scorned disdainfully. “’S what I’m s’posed to do.”
“And I’m supposed to kill you.”
“Not if I kill you first.”
“Been there. Tried that.”
He grinned. “Tables turn when you’re defendin’ your own hide.” A pause. “You gonna sick Peaches on me for what I did? For takin’ a li’l taste of what’s his? ‘You messed with my girl’ kinda thing?”
“I don’t hide behind my boyfriend.”
“You’ll do it yourself, then. Is that right?”
Buffy nodded blankly. “That’s right.”
“Jus’ like that?”
“Just like that.”
That was a bluff if she’d ever heard one. She couldn’t kill him now—not without a reason. She’d granted all past sins clemency in the face of unspeakable confusion, and now, she was at a loss. He’d changed. Against all odds, all logic, all want of anything, Spike had changed. He’d changed on his own.
Whatever Dru had said…
The thoughts complied into dark, looming clouds. Buffy coiled in self-disgust.
“How’s your mum dealin’ with the slayin’ an’—”
“Stop talking about my mother!” She wobbled to her feet and stumbled wearily against the wall. “I don’t care what Dru told you. What you allowed yourself to believe. You’re a vampire, Spike. An evil, disgusting vampire. We’re not friends. We don’t chat and ask about each other’s lives. I don’t give a damn why your psychotic girlfriend left you! That is not my problem. My only problem right now is…well, let’s just say I’m looking at him.” Her lip wobbled at the stricken look in his eyes, but she didn’t let herself falter. Not giving into him. Not giving in. “Just leave me alone.”
Spike bounded to his feet, sheer malice sparkling behind his eyes. “Right, Slayer. No need to say more. If you want the Big Bad, that’s what you’ll bloody get.”
“I want you to snap out of it.”
“You think this is any fun for me?” he barked. “’m s’posed to kill you. It shouldn’t take so fucking much to kill you. Can’t do it, though. I can’t do it. I want it. God, I want it. I want you outta my fuckin’ head. I oughta rip your head right off your neck an’ be done with it for what you’ve done to me.” He chuckled bitterly. “Seems so simple.” A pause. “You know…I can always have it both ways.” She shuddered as he stepped forward. “Make all your achies go away. I’ll drain you dry, Slayer. Then I’ll make you like me.”
She shivered. The words were empty, of course. Even Spike knew better.
A positively wicked smile broke across his face. “Don’ get your knickers in a twist. I’m jus’ teasin’.”
“Don’t even begin to play that game with me.”
“I wouldn’t want you all fangy, luv. You’re enough of a bitch as it is. Besides…you couldn’t handle that much power.”
A string of inbuilt defense coursed through her. The reaction was natural; unstoppable in every facet of her restraint. “Yes I could!”
Spike smiled but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to; the look on his face got the point across better than words could have hoped.
Buffy flushed darkly. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’. An’ that’s the problem, innit?”
“Get over yourself.”
“I will when you do.”
“I swear…” She shook her head. “When we get out of here, the first thing I’m gonna do is—”
“Take a cold shower?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Yeh.” He was simply patronizing her now, and enjoying every minute of it. “You, too.”
Buffy was too angry to form words. Too upset and confused to see where the line ended, or where it had been crossed. He had retreated into himself again—hiding every emotion from exploitation. Concealing himself for the sake of his own naked vulnerability. It was a side of Spike she didn’t know existed. He was so different from every vampire she had fought in the past.
She knew that, of course. Angel had told her that.
Angel. Buffy attempted failingly to focus. Her mind couldn’t form his face through the dark, and she caved, sinking to the floor again on a note of desperation. Her nerves began to calm. If he would not kill her, if he would not be the demon she knew he was, she had to pass time somehow.
“How long have we been here?” she asked.
Spike arched a brow. “Thought you wanted me to leave you alone.”
“I do.”
“Then—”
“After we get out of here…I want you to leave me alone after we get out of here.” Buffy sighed. “After we get out of here, I want you to leave town and never come back. Never. You got me?”
Spike’s eyes darkened. “Yeh, kitten. I got you real good.”
“Good. Then we understand each other.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He paused. “You understand what you want to.”
“As opposed to you. You see what you want to.”
“Right now I see a bitch with her head so far up her arse that she doesn’ get the big picture.”
“What? That you’re God’s gift? That you’re a demon who has tried to kill me, my friends, and Angel more times than—”
“We’ve both had our outs with Peaches, luv,” Spike retorted icily. “An’ yeah. I have wanted you dead. Still do. Can’t stand the bloody sight of you.”
“Then what?”
“I told you, it’s Dru.” With a growl, Spike pushed himself to his feet and began pacing again. He would walk himself into a trench one day if wasn’t careful. “She has visions—right. Visions about things to come. She knows me better than anyone. An’ if she says…God no. It can’t be that. I came here to prove it. I—”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “And yet, all you do is annoy.”
“Why can’t I kill you?” he screamed, attacking the quiet with such ferocity that it sent shivers down her spine and she nearly clawed up the wall for support. It had been a long while since Spike frightened her; perhaps making jokes at his expense wasn’t the best plan. “I know I want to. I feel it, Slayer. I feel…I need blood. I’m starvin’ half to death…more to death…an’ you’re right there. Can’t eat. Can’t feed. Can’t kill you, an’ I don’ know why. I’m a vampire, luv. I’m a vampire, you’re the Chosen bird. Vampires kill the Chosen bird…that’s what we do.” He stomped toward her with intent, his bumpies bursting through his human mask, and his fangs leering provocatively.
Buffy was on her feet the next instant, but there was nowhere to run. He had her trapped in the corner, and even if he didn’t, there was nowhere to run.
“So what makes you so special?” he demanded, his eyes sizing her up. “William the Bloody here. I’ve never shown anyone a lick of mercy. So tell me why I can’t kill you. No reason. Nothin’ holdin’ me back. I’m in a room alone with the Slayer an’ I…”
The harshness of any vampire while in game face was something she had never before appreciated—not like she should have, at least. Angel’s demonic countenance was something that he had a habit of hiding. He vamped very infrequently, even as Angelus. Spike, on the other hand, had hidden his human face from her for a long while, save the night of their first meeting. She hadn’t seen him sans fangs until the night he changed her life. Until the night he came to her for help.
The night he’d gone against everything a demon was supposed to symbolize.
“We like to talk big, vampires do. ‘I’m going to destroy the world.’ It’s jus’ tough guy talk.”
He had her pushed against the wall the next second, and she felt it again. The shimmer of forbidden excitement that rushed through her blood, coupled with the sudden, unwanted pool of wetness between her thighs. He was gasping against her, and—oh god—she felt it again. Spike’s hard, denim-clad cock probed her mercilessly, thrusting against her pussy and driving her crazy with unwanted arousal. His was panting now, breathing hard against her lips, his eyes wide with confusion.
This was something she’d only shared with Angel while copping feels during routine patrols—then, and that one night where everything had changed. She had it again, but the vampire against her was not Angel. The vampire was a slayer of her kind; one that had killed and would kill again; one that wanted her. Now. Here. She felt it. He wanted her, and there wasn’t a soul to blame it on. He wanted her.
The anger in Spike’s eyes slowly drained, though he refused to slip from game face. He was studying her curiously—the look in his eyes told her that he was fully aware that she was wet and aching with need, and where she expected him to mock her, he did not. As if wanting the enemy was the most natural and just thing in the world. “There’s no such thing as havin’ it both ways,” he said huskily at her ear, the impassioned growl that tagged his words making her knees weak. “Either you’re…food…or you’re…” He thrust his hips forward, earning a strangled moan. “Right then, Slayer. If it’s one or the other… You’re the girl; I’m the one who’s s’posed to deal with it. Here it goes.”
There was a flash of fangs, and that was all she cared to see. Buffy’s eyes snapped shut and her hands instinctually shot to his forearms. Something pierced her neck and all inner fortitude collapsed. Nothing climactic or foreseen; the will to battle simply left her. It was futile; struggling against him or denying what she wanted. What she really, really wanted.
It was bad. It was disturbing. It was unnatural.
Hell, it’s my birthday.
Was that even a reason? Did it matter anymore?
She cried out in surrender and threw her arms around his neck, tugging him into her and thrusting herself wantonly against his erection. That was it. She felt it. He felt it. He moaned almost helplessly, and the fangs vanished into a series of wet, needy kisses. His lips were soft and nearly affectionate against her skin and some hidden part of her swelled with warmth. It was a loving sense of being unloved. Desire in its rawest form.
“Fuck,” Spike moaned, peppering her bloodied throat with kisses. “Fuck, Buffy. What are you doing to me? What have you done to me?”
Angel, rationality screamed. You can’t do this to him.
He pulled back, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He growled at her lips as his hands tugged at her legs until she wrapped them around his waist. “Ohh, fuck, kitten,” he purred, cupping her cheek. “This is gonna be a tight ride.”
Then—oh God—he swallowed her in his kiss, and the last symptom of resistance abandoned her wholly. Whatever hell she put herself through in days to come was worth his kiss. His kiss was so singular to anything she’d ever experienced—he melted savagery with yearning, desire with anger, and tenderness with cruelty.
Her time with Angel had been slow and exploratory. Not once had he been brutal or savage. Truly, the only time she could remember Angel getting forceful with her was during their first kiss—the one that had caused him to vamp uncontrollably. The night he’d taken her virginity, he’d been careful and tempered, not once letting his demon loose even if she knew he was dancing a fine line with his control. It was one of the reasons he had originally insisted that there could be nothing beyond friendship between them.
True, it wasn’t until he lost his soul that she truly saw him as the vampire he was. Her love for him had clouded her judgment in every feasible fashion. And she’d learned her lesson. Oh, how she’d learned her lesson. Not once since his return from hell had she allowed herself to be caught so thoroughly off guard.
Spike was entirely different, and it didn’t take knowing him to know that. He was able to pour outrage and compassion into his kiss without breaking her. He thrust himself against hers furiously, as though trying to shove her through the wall. He was angry. He was impassioned. He was beyond mystified. He wanted to vent that rage and she was the nearest target.
She was the nearest target, and she was all his.
“Slayer,” he moaned, wrapping an arm around her waist as his other hand pulled at the hem of her dress. The next thing she knew, the fabric was bunched around her hips, and his fingers were outlining her pussy through the thin, drenched cotton of her underwear. “Mmm…you’re so wet for me.”
“Who says it’s for you?” she gasped, bucking against him involuntarily.
Spike’s teeth found her earlobe and tugged, his fingers slipping under the crotch of her panties and rubbing her sopping folds. “Oh, baby,” he growled. “I think it’s for me.”
There were no words. None at all. God, no one had prepared her for this. Angel had been very ‘hands-off’ during their time together. He’d asked without searching, knowing that she was untouched, and that the wrong move could send her screaming. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her by pawing over her every three seconds.
At the time, it seemed considerate. Now, she just felt robbed.
Spike had no reservations. He knew this was only her second shot at intimacy, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that their past had known nothing but bloodlust. He was not overtly tender, though, and she didn’t want tender. Tenderness suggested something beyond the rawness of lust. Tenderness suggested genuine affection, and that was something he could not possibly possess. Not for her, at the very least.
And I’m here why?
“You’re here ‘cause curiosity killed the Slayer,” he purred, his fingers finding her clit. “’Cause you knew I’d be here.”
Was that even remotely possible?
“No,” she protested weakly, thrusting against his sinful touch. Her own hand remembered itself after a few mindless seconds and began tugging at the clasp of his jeans, finally freeing his hard length with a shared groan.
“Unh,” Buffy whimpered, her fingers curling around his cock. Angel hadn’t let her touch him. Another step taken to keep her from running away, she guessed. Now she was holding Spike intimately, and damn if anything had ever felt so right. “Oh God.”
“Oh, fuck me, baby,” Spike moaned, making her blood hot. “Squeeze me jus’ like that.” His attentiveness intensified, his mouth dropping to her throat again and sucking hard as he pushed her violently against the cold steel of the partition. The growls he released were deep and possessive. She was not his, he knew, but for the moment she might as well have been.
“You like that?” he growled, thrusting into her hand. “You like feelin’ me stroke your clit?”
“Ohhh…”
“Such a hot li’l hand.”
Her heart was pounding so hard, she was sure it would break her chest. Buffy threw her head back with another long groan, and Spike seized the advantage. The dress was suddenly gone, whipped over her head, and except for her undergarments, she was naked in his arms.
“You’re so warm,” he murmured.
She said nothing, squeezing his cock again instead.
“Mmmm,” he purred. “Keep doin’ that an’ you’ll find a mess on your hands.”
“No need to be crude,” she replied.
He grinned, arched a brow, and pinched her clit. “Come on, Slayer,” he rasped. “I wanna hear you scream.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Want me to tug at it with my teeth? I’ll do it. You know I will.”
Small shivers exploded through her body at the thought, and for long seconds, she couldn’t form words. Her grip around his cock tightened again, distracting her with the catlike coo of pleasure that hissed through his lips. He was losing and she knew it. The dick always controlled people like Spike; it just took the right pair of hands.
But he surprised her the next second when his fingers suddenly abandoned her, leaving her aching and unsatisfied. Her clit throbbed. Her pussy ached. And he just grinned at her.
“You bastard,” she growled. “You wouldn’t.”
“I wanna hear you scream for me.”
“Learn to live with disappointment.”
Her brow furrowed and she flexed to release her hold in challenge, but found herself squeezing him tighter instead. Spike chuckled with another coo of delight. “Yeh, baby,” he drawled. “Do it again.”
“You asshole.”
“Want more, you gotta scream.” He gave her clit a good tap. “Tell me who you’re with, Slayer. I’m not him. Got that? I’m not him.”
“Yeah, I can tell. He would have satisfied me by now.”
God, that was such a lie, but it worked. Spike growled angrily and the next thing she knew, her back was pressed to the floor, his mouth tearing at her laced breasts. His duster suddenly flew across the room, and before she realized what she was doing, her hands were dragging his t-shirt over his head, watching heatedly as she shoved his jeans to mid thigh.
“Lose your knickers,” he snapped. Buffy drew in a breath and complied quickly. She was too turned on to argue.
Then he was poised above her, the head of his cock dancing over her wet flesh, sliding between her pussy lips only to withdraw again. It was enough to drive any sane person mad, and for a crazy instant, she felt she could finally relate to Dru. He palmed her breasts with near reverence, finally ripping off her bra and tossing the offending garment somewhere behind him.
“Now, luv,” he rasped gutturally. “You ready to scream?”
She sounded more certain than she felt. “Not on your life.”
“Not a problem.”
Then he plunged inside her, and the world was made new.
“Oh my God,” Spike gasped, tossing his head back, his eyes shining with something she hadn’t seen before. He glanced down at her and grinned. “Hold on tight, darling. This is gonna be a wild ride.”
Buffy barely had time to gasp. The next thing she knew, he had withdrawn from her body almost fully, then slammed inside her again. She felt torn, but pleasure beat out pain. The memories of her one night with Angel suddenly floundered—shades of a bad memory made beautiful again by the man above her.
She blinked away tears and dug her nails into his forearms. “Ohhh.”
“Such a tight li’l quim,” he gasped, slip and slide of his cock from her body driving her steadily out of her mind. “Fuck, baby.”
She didn’t want him to see how much she was enjoying this—God, she was making herself sick with how much she was enjoying this. Her mind was a war of logic and need. “Guh.”
“You’re so warm an’ tight.”
“Shut up.”
Spike’s beautiful face melted into a scowl, his thrusts becoming hard and violent. She squeaked inelegantly, throwing her head back with a throaty moan. “Oh, God,” she whimpered.
“You’re with me now,” he snarled, nipping at her throat as he bruised her with force. “You’re with me, Slayer.”
“Ohhh, God!”
“Say it!”
His cock was striking some bundle of nerves deep within her that she hadn’t known existed, ripping harsh cries from her lips and sending shock waves of absolute euphoria through her body.
Buffy’s eyes fluttered shut. She was torn somewhere between heaven and hell. “Unh…”
“Say it, Slayer!” Spike growled, his hand slipping between their bodies to capture her clit. “Tell me who you’re with.”
“Screw you.”
That might have sounded a tad more convincing had it not ridden out on a moan.
He was stroking her clit furiously, his other hand at her throat as his hips pounded her into the ground. The air tasted raw and heavy. She was barely aware of her answering thrusts—of the need that coursed through her blood and drove her aching body to recapture him every time he pulled away from her. Then his fangs flashed and dove, piercing her breast and searing her with a blindingly hard stab of pain.
She screamed and bucked. He grunted and feasted. Then the pain dwindled, and her body lit with pleasure. Pleasure that melted into panic before drowning in ecstasy once more.
I can’t be enjoying this.
Spike finally glanced up and slipped his fangs out of her, licking his blood-smeared lips with a predatory grin. The hard smack of their bodies bounced mockingly off the walls. His was still stroking her clit, still determined, it seemed, to both bruise her and make her sing to the stars. Their battle had taken form of an age-old dance, and they were determined to give each other fresh scars.
“Say it,” he snarled again. “Goddammit, Slayer, say it!”
Defiance charged her veins. “No,” she spat, scissoring her legs around his waist. There was a sudden surge of strength, and the next thing she knew, she flipped him over, his erection stabbing deeper into her body and prompting a long hiss through her teeth. Spike’s angry growls melted into a whimper at that, his hands immediately finding her hips.
“Oh, Buffy…”
He sounded reverent, and the notion chilled her. Spike wasn’t supposed to moan at her like that.
“Shut up,” she spat again, pressing her palms to his chest as she bounced on his cock.
Hurt flashed across his face, and she chose to ignore it.
“Buffy—”
“Shut up.”
His fingers dug into her hips. “Fuck you,” he growled, thrusting up hard. “You’re with me, Slayer. I’m right here.”
“You—”
“You’re with me, an’ you’re gonna gimme a scream.” Then he surprised her; he cupped her cheek tenderly, his other hand roaming over her bloodied breasts, down her slippery abdomen before settling over her pussy again, nimble fingers massaging her clit with something akin to affection. “You’re with me, Buffy. You’re with me.”
She sobered, tears stinging her eyes again. “Ohh…”
“It’s all right. You’re with me. I’ve got you.”
“Spike…”
“Scream for me. I wanna hear you scream when you come.” His head fell against the floor, thrusting upward. “Wanna hear you scream when you drench my cock.”
She shook her head. “I can’t,” she rasped desperately.
If she gave him everything he wanted, there would be nothing left of herself.
“Yes, you can. It’s all right to like this, sweetheart.”
“What did you call me?”
Spike bit his lip and closed his eyes, driving his hips forward madly. “Nothin’.”
“No, I think it was something.”
The vampire arched a brow at her suggestively. “Can’t remember. Guess you’ll jus’ have to pump it outta me.”
The last thing she wanted to do was comply, but her body ached with lasting need. Buffy pressed her hands against his chest again, bucking her hips once before she began to ride him in earnest. Her ass slapped against his balls with every bounce. He remained focused on her sensitive pearl, stroking her fiercely now, and the sensation of his calloused fingers struggling to keep up with her wild gallop did little more than send her further into the fire.
“God, Slayer…” he moaned. “What are you doing to me?”
“Pumping it out of you.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” He grinned. “But you’re still gonna scream.”
“You first.”
“Don’ think so.” Then he surprised her, sitting up and sliding her down so that she was in his lap. His fangs descended again, and before she could scream her protest, he sank his incisors into her waiting throat.
She trembled around his cock as her body exploded into orgasm, and his name tumbled from her lips in a deafening scream. He muffled his triumphant roar into her bloodied flesh, the vibrations rocking her insides until he finally pulled away from her neck. Watching ruby drops of liquid dribble down his chin sweetened the climax all the more, and as he spilled himself inside her, she collapsed against him.
The room was alight with color. Her ears were ringing, and Spike was tugging at her ear with his teeth.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Don’t mention it,” she replied sleepily, and then slumped against him, completely sated.
TBC |
