A Road Less Traveled

by megan

“Gahhhh!” Buffy flopped down on her bed with a resigned snort. There was no care that Willow was watching her with wide eyes, trying to quickly scramble to her feet and kick whatever she’d been reading under her own bed. There was only a pulsing dissatisfaction that was going to drive her to the very edge of crazy.

“Um, date with Riley not so meshy?” Willow asked hesitantly. She couldn’t be blamed for hoping this would be the guy to get Buffy passed all her Angel hanguppyness…could she? Although, she had been kind of pushy about Buffy going out with him, even though the Slayer hadn’t shown that much interest. Still, human! Normal. What was the drawback?

“Try high on the scale of boring and that I fell asleep while he was talking about whatever it is he does when he’s in Idaho or wherever he came from.”

Willow’s eyes bugged.

“You fell asleep when a guy was telling you about himself?”

Buffy groaned. Honestly, from the sound of Willow you’d think no woman had ever been bored by a guy before. And it wasn’t like she was up half the night chasing down the real action in Sunnydale. She was tired and he was dull. Deal already!

“Forget it, Will. It was just one of those awkward first dates where you are blind-sided by a hammer that no matter how hard you try, it wasn’t gonna work. He was just…there was no….he just wasn’t—”

“Angel?” Willow accused and Buffy narrowed her eyes in irritation.

“I was going with passion and sparkiness…but if you insist.” Buffy rolled over and buried her head in her pillow, screaming into the soft fluffy featherness before attempting to face her friend for ‘The talk’.

“Look, I know you mean well, and that you’re all worried about me and my getting over Angelness. But Riley is so not the way to do it.”

“Oh.” Willow blinked, still standing against her bed with that sad look that had found a permanent spot since Oz had left to go find himself. “Okay.” And she bounced as her butt hit the edge of the bed. Then the tears began to fall and Buffy jumped up and ran to give her a hug.

“Oh, Willow. I suck. Here I am going on about the suckage that is known as Buffy’s lovelife when you have your own going on right in front of me. Selfish much?”

She didn’t expect an answer, and really was rather glad when Willow stayed quiet but trembling. Honestly, her own life left her emotionally exhausted and Buffy wasn’t sure exactly how much sympathy she could hand out. Besides, she could understand why Oz left. He was a danger to them all until he worked out the monster that dwelled inside of him. He truly was protecting Willow by leaving. If Angel had had some kind of similar reason, then maybe she could find it easier to move on herself.

No, Angel left because he was afraid for himself. He couldn’t have love without sex, and that little epiphany shed a new light on the situation that Buffy hadn’t ever contemplated.

Well, that was kind of uplifting, she thought to herself in small amusement as her hand continued to offer soothing rubs to Willow’s back. It was amazing how a few small thoughts could repair a heart when you least expected. So, Angel couldn’t get from her what he wanted, so he took off. Yet, to make himself feel less like a lecherous old man and failure, he had to make his leaving all about her.

‘Why that miserable ass!’ Buffy felt the memories steam inside her head and her rubbing of poor Willow’s back became slightly more brutal.

“You know what? Guys are just worthless. They, in a word, suck. We should be all about the feeling good, play them at their own game. How about we get all with the pretty and go out and break us some hearts?” Some evil little corner of her heart rejoiced in the idea, and Buffy put every scrap of enthusiasm into the offer, already picking out her skimpiest outfit that would turn the boys on while they watched her walk away. She didn’t have to settle for boring, and she didn’t have to settle for a guy that couldn’t have her. She was the slayer and there would be no more settling of any kind.

Buffy Summers was ready for the fire of danger and passion. She so wasn’t letting Willow’s pitiful sobs and heartache put a brake on all her lightbulb moments.

“I really don’t think I could do that right now, Buffy.” Willow was busy wiping at her tears with the baggy cuff of her sweater, her eyes darting toward her pillow as if she was going to hole up on her bed for the rest of the night.

It was early, and Buffy was absolutely NOT going to let Willow wallow. The night was made for getting into the groove and shaking their booty. And with a bit of luck, Xander would be at the Bronze and they could all get down together. Even if he did have his strange girlfriend tagging along. Actually, on second thought, the more the merrier. Anya was probably the perfect person for Buffy to seek out. They could talk a little talk, get some kind of idea what she might be looking for when human TA’s and souled vamps were so out of the question.

And Anya’s constant chatter about the nature of her orgasms and how frequently she liked to receive them might be just the thing to get Buffy in the right mood to throw her inhibitions to the wind and seize a little happiness for the night. She definitely wasn’t after another Parker, but she could be the one in control this time. She could call the shots and say she’d call…and then not.

It was a perfect plan, but to get away with it she needed Willow to get all flashy with the clothing and to actually leave the dorm.

“Come on, I’ll help sex you up.”

Willow’s eyes went huge, and before she could complete her stuttering objections, Buffy had dived on her hair and make-up and thrown several tight pants her way. Buffy could be a giver. Tonight, she was wearing a skirt. And heels. Heels that screamed ‘horny teenager wanting action’.

It was something dark inside her that dictated she toss the overall coverage of her usual turtlenecks and instead allowed herself to barely be covered by the slinky black number that showed off almost all of her back and a very large dip at the front. Tonight was about being noticed—finding what it was that could help her move beyond Angel and his selfish revision of her life plans. Well, her romantic ones at least.

In a whirlwind Willow was fluffed and primped and they were ready to go, Buffy almost feeling like singing on her way to the Bronze, chattering about all the hotties they were going to find and stomp into the ground. She felt like Faith—the good bits before she went all overboard with the murder of humans and siding with the side of evil. No, she felt like she had a right to anything. A right to explore her options and make choices not in consideration of Angel or anyone else. This was her life, and Buffy was absolutely going to take every moment given to her. She had such a short amount of time, she may as well have what she really wanted. Now if she could only work out what that was, she’d be perfect.

She wasn’t singing when they entered the club…yet! Buffy wasn’t going to leave this place before she peeled back a few layers of her uptight personality and let down her hair—figuratively, because the literal was already flowing free.

She felt confident. Intact. For the first time since she’d sent Angel to hell she felt a little less of the damage in her that had kept her shying away from life. Felt like a decision she made might not be shaded with fear of mistakes and the need to get it right the first time. Older and wiser was what she was. In the space of one date with a human, Buffy felt capable of finally telling the difference between honesty and a line. She had a finely tuned Parker radar that would keep all the creeps away from her heart and body. Her feelings about the night were so of the good.

And so she was grinning as she reached the table where Xander and Anya were making cow eyes at each other. The presence of Spike didn’t phase her at all. In fact, he had that sneer of disinterest that she suddenly found really sexy. Huh! Why hadn’t she noticed that scar on his brow before? And hey, thought. If souled Angel’s and boring humans were off the dating list for a slayer, then a chipped Spike seemed like the PERFECT fill in. He was hot, witty, really sexy with the innuendo, knew exactly who he was and took very little crap. Well, until he got chipped, but nobody was perfect, right? And he was all smooth and sleek. Buffy was positive he’d be great on the dance floor—and possibly anywhere else she might find a use for him.

Willow plopped down in the seat beside Anya—a strange choice for the redhead but making Buffy more than happy to be left with the one beside Spike. Only once she was there did she notice the handcuff that attached his wrist to her chair leg and that explained easily his slumped position.

“Why is Spike here?” asked Willow, ever practical and information seeking.

“Giles begged us to take him so he could have a shower and possibly watch some boring nature channel while he got drunk.” Anya, pragmatic and frighteningly insightful sometimes. “But you’re the slayer, so we’re palming responsibility off to you. Xander, give her the key.” A nudge to his ribs with her never faltering shiny smile and Anya had gotten her wish. Xander passed the keys over and sighed in relief.

Power flooded Buffy’s body and she could feel an overflow of ideas and seduction techniques making her body tingle. She could be so responsible it would hurt. With a very sinister grin, Buffy took the key and bent over in front of Spike, getting as close to his hunched figure as possible as she reached to unlock the cuff attached to her chair. The cool night air entered the gaping front of her top and she felt like giggling as a nose nudged against the edge of the fabric.

The cuffs sprang open and as she stood back up she encountered shocked blue eyes.

“I feel like dancing.” With no question about what he felt like doing, she’d snapped the metal cuff around her own wrist, the key still between fingers that suddenly realised she was lacking a pocket to put it in. Her friends had quickly become consumed by some subject and hadn’t noticed her back to them as she stared at Spike and fiddled with the key. Having no other option, she waited till Spike’s gaze was intent on hers and pulled the waistband of her skirt out a little, standing up close and letting him watch as she dropped the tiny key down the front of her panties. She wiggled her hips and moaned lowly as she felt the cool slip of metal against her skin, revelling in the heated look Spike gave her lower regions. Wow, who knew sex could be so powerful?

‘Ooh, cold,’ thought Buffy as she suddenly felt more horny and alive than she ever had in her life. That was the most erotic thing she’d ever done, and by the look in Spike’s eyes as they strayed and held at her crotch, she was willing to bet he thought so too.

With that part of the festivities taken care of, Buffy dragged a confounded Spike to the dance floor, holding his hand like intimates despite the metal that held them together. The clink of the chain seemed to have an effect on Spike, making him shudder by her side and Buffy was left to wonder what events in his past made him feel like that. It added to her excitement that she was getting Spike riled up in a sexy way. And this was just the beginning.

The music was so loud and bass derived that Buffy felt it rock throughout her body. It set her pulse pounding through her veins, feeding an imagination that was already kicking in gear in regards to Spike. Already she was moving, and only once they hit the middle did she turn so that her back was against his front and he could easily bend down and talk in her ear.

Buffy curled an arm around his neck, feeling light-headed at the touch of his short curls at her fingers, and breathless as she felt his lips getting closer, her other still holding his hand as the short metal chain slackened between them and she settled his touch on her belly. Cool fingers caressed her skin as his tongue licked her ear and he growled. She had no use for thought, just action. Action Buffy with her butt pressed into his crotch and rejoicing in the obvious effect she was having. Strangely, the growling reminder of who he was had no impact. No impact meant she could continue to be carefree, to enjoy the moment exactly as she’d set out to do.

Buffy shuddered against him; the shock of such a feral sound against her ear and neck rapidly scattering across her body and tightening each and every cell. She felt her nipples harden into painful points, and she felt wet. She felt such a need to see him. To watch his face as this moment unravelled and he felt bound in nothing but sensation and reaction. Was he looking sinister and evil, as was his character? Or was he showing signs of something softer? Something she’d only caught traces of in the past when he was touched by Dru?

“How do you plan on retrieven’ the key when we get back to the table, pet?”

Buffy spun, letting her burning breasts rub against his thin black tee as his knee settled against her and she straddled him wantonly. She allowed the hand joined with his to clasp intimately with hers, letting him guide it to sit erotically against her thigh. Her hand curled into his hair as she pulled his face down to let her lips rest against the smooth lobe of his ear. She’d caught it, though, and it made her heart flutter. A small, frantically hidden glimpse of awe. She was turning him on, and despite his reluctance, he was allowing it.

“Who said we’d be going back to the table?” And she sucked the tasty flap of flesh into her mouth and moaned in unexpected pleasure. The silk of her top gently brushed over painfully tight nipples—combined with the cold fingers stroking her skin beneath the fabric— and all Buffy could feel was the rush through her body, the sudden gushing need to touch and be touched. She felt the heat between her legs as she swelled, and she felt desperate for relief of a suddenly building tension. It felt so different, so forceful and Buffy lost her mind to the possibilities that she’d never allowed herself to consider.

Spike suddenly remembered he had a spare hand that could obey the commands from his brain and he curled it around the smooth leather of her ass and hauled her in closer. He purred into her neck and Buffy jumped at the eroticness of his cool breath as it flowed down the smooth column.

“Yeah? Any plans on where we can go to look for that key?” His voice rumbled in her eardrum and Spike smirked as he felt a warm patch on the leg of his denim.

“All in good time, Spikey.” And she bit him. Blunt teeth against his naked throat. Buffy felt something hard jump against her stomach and wondered what else might excite him. She licked the spot her teeth had just shallowly marked and smiled against his skin as the new protrusion lengthened and hardened against her hip bone.

For extra good measure, Buffy slid her body back and forth in time to the beat of the music, making sure she remained in contact the whole time.

Buffy was excited, though a little frightened about what she was doing. Playing around with a master vampire was never a good idea, and this one just happened to be related to the previous love of her life. She needed a little distance to think, to be sure what she was doing was exactly what she wanted because she had this sneaking suspicion that one time might never be enough once a girl had experienced Spike. Drusilla—cheating skanky hobiscuit that she was—had certainly found something to cling to for over a century. It couldn’t just be for the way he painted his nails—and hers.

So, her back-up was normal. In this frighteningly supernatural and bizarre experience, she had normal as a fall-back and thus had been her day so far.

“You’ll never guess what I did today?”

Spike snorted. “Unless it had you chained to a bathtub and being forced to drink blood from a novelty mug, I wouldn’t waste my brain cells tryin’ to guess.”

“I went on a date,” Buffy persisted pleasantly, a smile in her voice even though her face was still buried against his neck. “A nice date. In the sun with a normal human guy. He had a pulse and a thermos. Oh, and there were apples.”

Spike pulled back to look at her face and cocked his head, an inner battle warring over whether she was serious and why he gave a toss.

“Angel told me he was leaving so I could have a normal life, you know. So, I went on a date.” And she beamed. It blew his usual Big Bad composure right out the window. Not that tremendous a feat when added to the dilemma of keeping his dick under control as her hot little body continued to writhe against his.

Spike was struck with how unbelievably chipper she seemed. He was hard pressed to recall any time when she’d looked like this. The snarl that ripped from his throat wasn’t planned.

“You mean His Royal Foreheadedness couldn’t bear being around his honey he supposedly loved all platonic like, and bolted?”

Buffy grinned wider, her shiny lips enticing and yet he was sure poisonous for his peace of mind.

“Bingo,” she almost shouted in his face and for a second Spike couldn’t remember what he’d guessed that afforded such gusto in response. It was hard for a bloke to hang onto the thread of the conversation with her licking her lips and showing him the perfect biteable beauty of her neck. “And you know what I learned while on my date with normal?”

Despite himself, Spike was sucked in and interested—if only to gather enough intel to possibly twist the knife into someone broody later down the track.

“Do tell,” he drawled, attempting to look bored and disinterested with a sardonic twist to his top lip, despite feeling himself shake with lust.

Buffy licked her lips and stared at his mouth as she unconsciously wiggled closer to his body, her breath fanning the moist spot where her tongue had been a short while before. And squeaked as his hand tightened around her leather covered ass.

Okay, her derailed seduction was so back on track, Buffy decided with a twist of her hips and a less than subtle rub against the appendage poking her hard.

“Normal puts me to sleep.”

The Slayer giggled as she slunk closer, now not even enough room to accommodate their clothing comfortably. The temperature rose to scorching as Buffy’s cuffed hand rubbed its way sensually to his back jeans pocket, sinking in and searching for a good spot to tease the curve of his ass.

Spike swallowed hard and wondered where it was exactly that he’d lost the conversation. He had hot slayer flesh pressed firmly against him with a very short skirt pushed up further on his leg as his brain scrambled to catch up to his hand. Her burning crotch left a patch on his leg and he felt his cock throbbing in reaction. She smelled delicious, enticing him with a new slayer experience he had never considered.

The music continued and Buffy’s tongue got active again with his neck; Spike was left with nothing but confusion and a hard on of painful proportions. He wasn’t stupid, though. Not like these kids thought he was. He knew Buffy was playing—playing with power she didn’t understand yet. She’d tasted souled vamp and came out of the experience slightly worse for wear. Now she was dating normal and finding them as dull as he could have told her she would. He wondered if her dalliance with the dark side was what the chit really needed; really craved, and was yet too innocent to acknowledge. Having her in his arms without a violent thought in his head, he was inclined to believe in miracles. Not that he’d ever craved the Slayer for anything but her broken body as another notch for his reputation. But he could adapt.

So, what was a poor slayer perched on the edge of womanhood to do with her raging hormones? Sure, he was leashed good and proper and she could play with him like a helpless puppy, but he knew better than to dream he would get any real action. She’d have him hot and horny and then he’d be chained back in the tub with barely a hand to wank by.

He wanted to push the envelope. See how far he could get her to go before his brain turned to mush. He couldn’t force her or his brain would fry and slip out his ears. And even if the thought of rubbing flesh with the slayer had him wanting to heave, so be it. Wasn’t like the populace was an open smorgasbord anymore. He wasn’t exactly on the in with his normal demon crowd—not that he’d ever found a tasty enough morsel to spend more than a quick shag with anyway—and humans were out now that he had the Goody Two Shoes Squad breathing down his neck.

Oh. No, that was Buffy, making his skin feel warmer than it ever had since he was undead. Letting her breath fan across his flesh and make him hard and eager to move on to the next step of her cruel game of ‘make Spike blow with frustrated lust’.

So he let her slither her soft form against his, biting back the groans every time she rubbed him in a particularly sensitive spot, and started to look frantically for a spot less crowded. If he could get her to go with him to a darkened corner on the balcony when she’d finished shaking her ass, maybe he could see how good little Miss Summers truly was.

With that little spark of evil to repair his woefully battered confidence, Spike participated in the game. He always did love to dance.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Honey? You’re catching flies.” Anya shoved at Xander’s chin till it snapped shut. His eyes, though, didn’t move from the spectacle that made him drop his drink and jaw simultaneously.

“What in the name of Frodo and hairy apes is she doing?”

Willow and Xander gaped at the obscene looking display Buffy was putting on for the room, almost choking when she started sucking and licking Spike’s neck.

“Riley must have slipped her something to make her go all cuckoo.” It was the only explanation Willow could think of. She’d only seen Buffy do this once before, and that had been to make Angel jealous. Even then it had been as a result of post-The Master oogyness and confusion.

“Oh, that’s just the mating dance. I was surprised it took Buffy this long to see the pluses of dating Spike,” Anya contributed despite the aghast looks on her companion’s faces.

“Pluses? There’s pluses now? Where was I when it changed from being all about the negatives?”

Willow nodded, a frown creasing her forehead as she searched frantically for a reason. Then a wave of sadness fell back on her shoulders and she decided she just didn’t care.

“Well, it’s not like she’s been all hip with the sympathy lately. She deserves another mistake. She fell asleep on Riley! That just reeks of stupid decisions. If Spike is her thing, then so be it. I hope they’ll be happy together. It’s not like my true love is just going to drop into my lap.” Miserable green eyes watched the table, romantic defeat and Willow was done.

“Oh cheer up. You’re bringing us all down,” Anya snapped.

“Hey!” Willow puffed up with a sense of righteousness. “It’s okay for you. You have smoochies. And Xander smoochies…which are kind of good. Not like you have to go out and keep looking for Mr. Right. I wish we could just find the right person and live happily ever after. The five of us. I am so sick of everything being all doom and gloomy.”

Anya watched and grinned. If she’d been a vengeance demon she would have hated that kind of wish—it didn’t seem to promise maximum pain. But as a newly human woman looking for love, it was good. Really good. She watched as Xander nodded his agreement, curling an arm through his and smiling wider as he looked at her with his usual amount of lust and patted her hand. Oh yeah, orgasms galore tonight.

Willow sighed and went back to nurse her misery. It was strangely comforting.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Didn’t I tell you this would be the perfect place to grant wishes?” Jonathan bubbled, excited and preparing his arms for the correct wish-granting posture.

“Whoa there, Bucko. Slow down, Slugger. Who said you got this wish?” Andrew pouted, also readying himself for the arms crossed and blinking sequence.

“What? They were my friends,” Jonathan huffed, irritation with his sidekick already settling in.

“You wish!”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “I would if I could, genius. But we can’t grant our own wishes or I would have wished you to be a bigger baboon than you already are. Right after I wished us out of this mess.”

“Oh hey, Mr. Big Shot. Who was the one that tried to summons the King Genie to do our will?” Andrew grinned in self-satisfaction as he relaxed in his chair with his arms crossed, almost falling off but managing to keep his gold and glittery turban fixed firmly on his head. Damn, but his curly toed shoes always got caught in the rung of the stool.

“It was your idea,” Jonathan spluttered. Then he narrowed his eyes at his companion and prepared for a race; prepared to beat the friend that had helped him in a plan that had backfired and turned them into genie slaves until their one hundredth wish was granted.

“This…one…is…mine.” His voice was determined, eyes flinty with purpose.

“No.” Andrew stood. “It’s mine.”

While they glared at each other, Shirley Temples abandoned at their table, the battle exploded. Arms slapped together and turbans wobbled. Rapid eye blinks and shouts of ‘HUH!’ as a puff of smoke erupted where they stood.

Andrew giggled. “Oops! You did it wrong, you did it wrong,” he sung in typical juvenile fashion.

“Did not. I watched Barbara Eden the exact same number of times you did, and we did it exactly the same way. So if I got it wrong, so did you. Genius!” Jonathan glared, then they both became aware of that tingly feeling of being watched.

Sharing a look, they both turned to the table where Xander and Willow sat stone-faced and confused. Jonathan waved uncomfortably, then turned and bolted for the door, Andrew beside him. Neither had much of a clue who won the wish showdown as they bumped and barged against each other in a hurry to get out.

“And again I say, what in the name of Frodo and hairy apes was that?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Um, hey.”

Willow jumped as a gentle touch fell on her arm and turned slowly to see the pretty blonde girl that had been in her wicca groups.

“Oh, hey,” she greeted enthusiastically. She had no clue why, but seeing the shy Tara was exactly what she felt she needed to perk her spirits up. “Guys, this is Tara. Tara, meet Xander and Anya.”

Xander smiled and watched as Anya leaned across the table to shake the new girl’s hand. It was always nice to have another friendly face in a group she was only just embracing. It needed new blood.

“Lovely to meet you, and now that you are here, Willow won’t be alone when Xander and I go to his basement to have orgasms.”

Tara blushed wildly, giggled nervously and then turning to look at the couples on the dance fool. One look at Buffy and she turned beet red and quickly gulped a mouthful of her drink.

Then she sat, and for Willow, the night looked beautiful again.

~* ~ * ~ * ~

Some bloody idiot had turned on the heating by mistake.

“Spike? Is it me or is it hot in here?”

Spike nearly combusted on the spot. The sexy little chit had become game, ghosting her little hand over the bulge in his jeans even as he gaped down the very revealing front of her top. He choked suddenly, ‘was that a nipple?’ He couldn’t understand why now, but he was noticing things. Like how she was dressed. Sure, he’d picked up on the fact that she was falling out of her handkerchief top and her skirt barely covered her tush, but the stilettos? They hadn’t had any impact on his brain till she scraped the heel up the back of his leg. And that unexpected impact went straight to his cock as his flesh erupted into goosepimples.

“Might be time to go find that key. Wanna go up to the balcony? Might be a tad cooler up there,” he squeaked, knowing full well that if he took her up there and even only THOUGHT of getting the key back, he was buggered.

His cock was a permanent ramrod. He’d need new jeans if she didn’t give him some relief soon, knowing full well he was going to buckle his zipper.

Her answer was a step back, coquettishly batting of her eyelashes as she tugged on his hand and led him to the staircase, Spike all the while imagining the same pressure as she tugged on his freed cock. Watching the swish of her tight bum in the short leather skirt seemed to do him more harm and he bit his lip to prevent a call of distress from escaping. He was passed caring what his chip would do to him if he inflicted rightful pain. This chit had him so wound up that he was going to feel her heat around him if he had to have brain seep out his ears.

He could never understand why, but it was always almost deserted whenever he would wander up to this little hidey-hole. Maybe even dense Sunnydalians knew it was a perfect spot to be accosted by the secret creatures of the night? Whatever the reason, tonight he was grateful as Buffy led him to the couch in the shadows, happy again to be dwelling in the dark with the promise of heat to soothe the burning in his cock.

He wanted to come, and one subtle sniff and he knew how much Buffy had worked herself up.

Wait! Hold the bleeding phone. Buffy?

His balls tightened at the name, and he forgot that the slayer even existed. She sat him down and straddled his lap, her hot centre scorching even though she hadn’t settled over him yet. No way was he asking permission—or letting her set every little pace of this interlude. She’d taken him too far and she really didn’t need to see a hot and horny demon when thwarted at the important moment.

“How do you want me to find the key, pet?” He caught her eyes as his hand wandered beneath her skirt, tracing small circles along the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She quivered under his light touch. He smirked as her eyes widened against the curved rub of his fingers over her covered pussy. Nope, no key had fallen that far down to clink against his digits. Still…he poked the fabric up and felt the burning heat that waited for him between her legs. He was rubbing the crotch of her panties inside her and getting them good and wet.

“I could tear these off you right now and that key could fall somewhere you would need to look for it.” His voice was husky with raw need, the hand cuffed to hers seeking the metal that kept him in pain. Her fingers encouraged the move and yet he was almost surprised when his pants popped open and his cock fell forward, her eyes now seeing what his subtle innuendo had indicated the next hiding spot could be. “Or maybe it’s made its way up somewhere that I need something bigger to search with.” And he moved her dripping yet covered pussy over his swollen dick and rubbed her against it.

Soft silk settled against his aching head, rubbing excruciating friction and soaking up his streaming precum. It was a sensation he’d never experienced before, and Spike felt shocked that he was receiving this almost torturous passion from the one he’d considered his worst enemy.

He watched as her sense was lost behind a haze of passion, sweat making her skin shine.

“Mmmm, feels juicy, luv. Maybe my tongue could do a search and rescue?”

At her frantic nodding he couldn’t wait anymore, entwining desperate fingers in her hair and pulling her head closer. His lips were a breath away, he looking intently into her eyes for some kind of sign. Not one telling him she was hesitant and he would be another of her mistakes—because he just didn’t care. Evil! Yet he searched anyway, not wanting to admit that he would hate that. He was tired of being everyone’s bitch and mistake.

There was softness in her eyes; it wasn’t expected but he’d be the last to reject it. He’d never been looked at with softness, now since his mother had suffered through his enthusiastic readings. But this softness burned—and she wanted him. The continued glide over his cock as she locked her eyes on his told him how much.

Buffy felt his touch everywhere. Felt the smooth yet cool presence of him all over, and didn’t even need to shrug one single feeling of disgust or loathing away from her activities. He was sweet—the way he watched her and made sure it was what she wanted. She could see the argument he was having in his head—that he didn’t really care how she felt but did. Buffy couldn’t help but smile and wish for explosions.

The cuffed hand re-established its place at her pussy, letting her own hand hang for the moment but having plans that she had no clue about. Knowing he was getting beyond the tease, one flick of his wrist and her panties were gone, the roaring in his ears too loud against the barrage of her delicious smelling juices that he didn’t hear the tinkling descent of the key as it fell between his legs and to the floor.

Spike grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb over her fingers before positioning them just right, and with the patience he’d seldom ever shown, he rubbed her own well manicured nails over her clit.

“Ooh, Spike,” she moaned. “You’re so not normal.” And her eyes closed, refusing to let him see if she said it in relief or objection.

He was taking it as a positive, never seeing himself being on the wrong side of normal as a problem before. Manoeuvring her fingers craftily, he slipped her inside herself, feeling semen seep out the slit of his cock as he held two of her fingers deep with two of his, pumping slowly as she moved subtly against them.

Her top was cut with a massive slit down the middle—a wing and a prayer holding her breasts within it. He was through with the promise and seized the prize, his hungry mouth sucking ferociously on one as the strap fell down her arm and her pussy soaked their fingers with her excitement. His thumb caressed her clit and his cock rubbed against her crack. She filled his mouth perfectly, the swell of her breast a sensory delight that he couldn’t help but compose lines over. He wanted to look, to take his time. But later. Patience was for when they were alone, and when they knew what it all meant.

Too much sensation and he hadn’t even kissed her. He wanted to taste. Wanted to explore the hot cavern of her mouth and feel the blunt edge of her teeth. Neither of them cared about her exposed breast as his tongue left her aching nub and licked her lips. She felt like cream against his tongue; soft forbidden cream that he had to consume or dust.

She was panting against his lips, almost crying from the exquisite feelings that flooded through her. He could feel it, could feel the thrum of her blood as it coursed through her body, leading to her pussy and making her veins hum with excitement. He wanted it so bad, licked his lips to try and give himself time to think.

When her mouth finally touched his, he felt something inside snap. Like a chicken with its innards finally giving way. It was demonic; it was natural. It was brutal and yet beautiful. He moaned into her mouth and frantically sought to connect his tonge with hers. She bit it and he could feel the roar break through his blood, wanting more than he ever thought he could have. She devoured him with her mouth, and he felt the tension that she was fighting while their fingers stirred her clit. When the tension broke, he ripped their fingers away and settled his cock at her entrance. She was too entranced to say no, and he needed to feel the hot cave she’d treated his digits to before he dusted.

The slide in was gracious. He could feel layers of his cock burn off to her heat and he was grateful. He crushed her mouth to his, swallowing everything he could get of this amazing experience. God, she was so unbelievable. Hotter than the sun. But it wasn’t enough. As she slowly did the first slide up his cock, he moaned, squeezing her breast hard and tugging the nipple, while biting her tongue.

Biting. That’s what he wanted. He didn’t usually bite during sex. Only on special nights with Dru did he try to use that as some sort of way to make her submit; to be his. No other had ever felt his fangs while he pulsed inside them. Yet Buffy, he wanted to make her feel it all. Feel all of him. The decision had him almost engorged beyond his boundaries; he could feel the angry tension of the cords as they strained higher and tighter, objecting to the slow strangle of her muscles as she tried to control him.

And then the slip down. It began slow but sped up once that introduction had been made. He tore himself away from the nirvana of her lips, biting playfully at her breast. A quick suck, a gentle piercing with barely emerged vampire teeth and he went wild at the whiff of her blood.

She liked it. His chip remained silent as he saw tears emerge from her eyes, and ones of lust—not pain.

“You like it, baby? Want to feel how good it can get?”

The slow sway of her tits as she bounced on his cock mesmerised him, and he couldn’t hear the words that tumbled from her mouth from the roaring epiphany in his head. She kept her eyes in his, watery but knowing—and accepting. He saw his future as she undulated above him. His salvation. His Heaven and his Hell. His Princess and his whore. Wherever the arrow settled, she was his and he knew she wouldn’t view it the same. But as well as a mate, here he had leverage. Revenge. Against his poofy grandsire and her pathetic friends. As her mate he couldn’t be held prisoner in the cold enamel of a bathtub. Just one drink from her neck and he could be sitting pretty with her attached to his cock night after night.

She hadn’t balked at the scratch of his fangs at her breast. It was a thought that excited him no end, and as his lips teased the skin where he wished to bestow his mark, he found it difficult to concentrate while she milked his cock with her rapid movements.

She squeezed him, hard and it was just enough to enrage his demon. His fangs sank through the thin protection of her skin, zeroing easily in on her blood and he rejoiced as it spurted into his mouth. Her hand was on the back of his neck, her pussy pulsing tightly against his cock as she melted him with her come.

It took three mouthfuls for him to explode.

His body shook with the strength of his release, shuddering his great shock of feeling as he retracted his fangs and licked at the pretty wound on her neck.

“Be mine, Buffy?”

Her body jolted again in his lap, the smell of another peak reached tickling his nose as he waited hopeful and yet insecure. She fell forward exhausted into his arms, her cheek against his as she gasped in air.

“Okay,” she sighed against his lips and he felt like laughing. It was a weak acceptance—not quite the declaration of devotion his romantic side had always craved, but it WAS acceptance, and in it held approval. For now it might have been his sexual prowess, but before he was through, he’d make sure it was more.

Before he was through, he’d have love.

A blast of fresh air on her overheated skin was apparently not enough to make Buffy snap out of her Spike haze of lust and confusion. They were holding hands, walking across campus with Buffy not giving one thought to the fact that Spike was an unmitigated member of Giles’s tub incarceration program. Complete with chains and cheesy daytime TV. The only thing Buffy was thinking was that she was completely out of her mind, sporting a new set of vampire scars on her neck and obviously unable to separate herself from Spike.

She didn’t get quite how unable to separate from Spike she really was until they’d smooched for fifteen minutes outside her dorm and a jarring tug on her wrist reminded her of the tethered nature of their togetherness.

Appalled, Buffy met amused sparkling blue eyes before they both diverted paths to stare at her covered lower regions. Buffy groaned loudly and banged her head on her door as it occurred to her she was minus the thing that would have stopped the key from being lost from her body. Spike’s questing fingers suddenly plunging into a space that hadn’t even attempted to stop being super ready for him brought it all the more to the realm of the obvious.

“We lost the key,” Buffy whimpered helplessly as his fingers found her yummy spot and she collapsed against the door, it’s support against her back the only thing that kept her from dragging Spike to the floor as her rubbery legs collapsed. One knee folded up over his hip—thankfully under his duster—and hauled him even closer to her body. She couldn’t say no to his touch. It felt like dynamite erupted every time he rubbed his calloused fingers over her and once he’d found her clit, she knew that she was blown wide-open.

A tingly build-up was all that Buffy registered as Spike circled over her throbbing clit, eagerly accepting the pleasure as he licked at her neck, the new marks his clear focus.

“Think it might be at the Bronze, pet. Can always go back and find it. Might be a touch…satisfying to be free to touch you all over.” A little poke of his erection against her thigh sealed the point admirably.

Buffy groaned at the smirk in his voice. Unlike her usual reaction where it pissed her off no end, now she wished she was inside her room, no Willow around so she could experience the fullness of having him lodged fully and deeply inside of her.

“Spike,” Buffy begged, her hips moving frantically against his hand as she held him tighter and more desperately against her.

“Ewwww, get a room.” There were giggles that Buffy was more than happy to ignore except for the fact that her door suddenly wasn’t holding her up anymore and she was lying flattened by a dangerously aroused vamp on her floor. His mouth attacked her lips as he roughly directed her to another vacant patch of filthy carpet and used his booted foot to kick the door closed.

There was no point trying to remove clothing. Their bound wrists made a mockery of stripping tops and so Buffy was more than satisfied when she heard the quick slide of metal as Spike undid his pants and finally thrust his cock inside her.

It was hot, and Buffy couldn’t stop her deliriously excited grin or the thoughts of ‘cool’ that ran through her brain as she arched up and into his thrusts.

Despite the hazards of trying to get naked, Spike managed to free enough of her to nibble at her breast, cool wet tonguing of her nipple that made her pussy react in heated fury. Buffy squeezed him, milked him, let him go and then tugged him back inside of her. It was a heady ride of the likes she’d never expected. Never even thought of happening with Spike, but now that it was, it seemed more than obvious. One dazed look at those cheekbones, his paleness contrasted with the blackness of his regular attire, and a girl would have to be blind not to realise the guy would be the passionate/ artistic type.

“Gahhh,” Buffy protested as her orgasm seemed to do little but build—needing desperately to be released from this torture of pleasure. It was a spiralling sensation she’d never experienced before and she couldn’t control it.

It scared her, and propelled her to shudder and wrench him back to her mouth, his tasty lips emphasising the motion of his hips as they undulated in a wild rhythm that had him pounding her into carpet she was more than glad she wasn’t naked on. ‘Cause carpet burn? So not of the sexy. And so far, everything about her night with Spike had been sexy.

It was strange how much of him she could feel with blinding clarity. Each ridge of his cock scraped against her slippery insides and made her moan. The little curve at the tip that bulged against her spongy depths making her whimper with need. Little skin prickles burst out all over her body, leaving her chilled and highly sensitised. That height was almost reached and she could vividly remember the added sensation of having him in her neck as well, feeling him sup on her life as he pumped her full of his pulsing undead semen. It was like getting a cold shower on the inside—except not, because it didn’t take away the lustiness.

Buffy fought down the slayer image that waggled an annoying finger in her mind’s eye, and inclined her head to the side, hoping he was getting the impressive visual before she had to open her mouth and remember how to use words. The turn of her head had broken the suction of their lips, and it was almost with blinding need to have his lips attached somewhere that meant they fell on the recently claimed portion of her throat. His tongue darted out to lick the almost healed puncture marks and with unbidden lust for her blood, his face changed and he tasted her again.

Her blood tasted different this time, and it shot straight to the straining width of his cock. He thought he was going to die while immersed inside the Slayer’s juicy pussy. He tasted the power of himself in her now—and he almost felt like giggling maniacally because she still didn’t know what he’d done. Instead, he moaned in exquisite pleasure at the burst of her blood that flowed over his tongue, fine red dribbling down his throat as he was reluctant to swallow. He wanted her taste to linger, wanted the hardness of his cock to continue pumping inside her. He could feel the frustration in his spontaneously chosen mate, and it was the last little cruelty he could inflict upon her now that she was his.

As the small ribbons of her life flowed past his teeth, he marvelled at the hilarity of his impulsive nature. He’d claimed the Slayer, and even though it would get him out of a bind, he clearly wasn’t thinking clearly about what came next. Here he was, saddled with a creature hellbent on dusting his ass who he now couldn’t be vindictively cruel to if he tried.

The last pull on what he could safely take from her flooded the cavern of his mouth and he swallowed it hard, his fangs resting while the sucking motion stopped. With it came an almost brutalising pulse around the base of his cock—sunk all the way in as he was—and an ear-splitting scream as Buffy shook and shattered around him. He could feel the sweat on her thighs as he allowed his own release, their cuffed hands automatically clasping as they rode out the enormous sensations of slaked lust together.

“I so did myself a favour falling asleep on Riley and his tractor riding story about Ohio,” Buffy managed once she’d finally regained the ability for speech.

“No tractors in Sunnydale, pet.” Spike slipped his fangs loose and found his face slipping easily to the one humans found stunning. He was panting. Why the bloody hell was he panting?

“Wrong state. We have no need for crops, unless some psycho nutbag demon comes along wanting to harvest her evil minions.” Buffy went slack beneath his hard body and almost purred her satisfaction with their latest encounter, even as she subconsciously brought up potentially uncomfortable topics.

Was he being paranoid, or was she poking sarcastic barbs at his ex? He shrugged…combine Dru with Angelus and there was no telling what they’d get up to. Whatever the hell she was spouting about, though, he knew it made little to no sense, and still they were joined at the wrist. Spike felt glee at the thought that once the key unlocked them, the Slayer would no doubt rage at the fact that they were now joined at the hip as well. Not that she had a choice. And not that she could resort to violence to eradicate him from her life this time.

“Hey, you came twice.” The Slayer pout was just as adorable as the first time she’d used it on him, and Spike randomly thought he could blow a third time easily.

And the conversation was heading into more bizarre territory. Good thing he’d had years to practise deciphering the obscure statements from the sane.

“Vampire, luv. All part of the package.” So was ongoing stamina, but as Spike collapsed over her tiny body, he felt exhausted in a way that had been generations ago in experience.

Both her hands reached up and playfully tugged at his wild curls, his own hand flopping uselessly beside their ears as she giggled like the teenager she still was.

“How is it I never noticed before the sexiness that is you?” Buffy asked huskily as she began nibbling at his tasty neck.

“Angel blinders do it to the best of ‘em. No worries. You’ll be seein’ lots more before you expire.” He groaned as her teeth made a mark in his neck.

“Rude much?” she screeched in true horrified slayer pitch.

And suddenly her death didn’t seem like such a glorious event anymore. It certainly dived from being the header of his ‘to do’ list.

“I meant sleep, pet. You’ll be long before goin’ to sleep tonight. An’ after we get that key, I’ll be seeing a whole different side of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My preference would be a naked one riding me into sweet oblivion.”

Spike watched as her nose crinkled and the expected ‘ewwwww’ burst past her lips. But then the thought of nakedness obviously struck some interesting thoughts and she was enthusiastically pushing him off and righting her clothes.

“So, back to the Bronze?”

Spike smirked as he watched the glistening patch on her inner thighs expand, feeling rather proud of his girl that she would wander back out in public without washing him off her skin. Every vamp around would know that he’d marked the Slayer every which way.

And he was back to having lewd thoughts.

“Back to the Bronze it is.”

She was nibbling adorably at her lip, and Spike felt a fondness for her overtake his usual malicious murdering thoughts as he contemplated diving in and sucking the abused flesh into his mouth.

“It’s kinda closed, though, you know?” Bleeding hell she was innocent.

“Vampire, luv. I’ll get us in.” And before she could offer any other argument for them to wait, for them to stay physically locked together till the next night gave them legal opportunity, he’d dragged her from the room. No bloody way was he surrendering the possibility of stripping her naked and teaching her some more naughty things—and for that he needed both arms free.

Despite being the one to haul her out of the room, Spike found himself in the admirable position of studying her short skirt all the way back through the deserted streets of Sunnydale after midnight and found himself concocting dirty little fantasies. The images were delicious and had him salivating. It took him a full five minutes to wonder why they’d stopped walking and she’d shifted position.

They’d stopped at the locked doors of the Bronze, Buffy scoping the surroundings to make sure everyone was gone and they weren’t likely to be caught. When she turned around, she scoffed at Spike’s intent focus on her ass.

“Hey, the situation that requires all that eyeballing would be the lock on this door.” And by virtue of being cuffed to him as she gestured, she jerked his arm forward and slapped the handles of the door with his fingers.

“Owww, easy on the digits, luv. They might be a tad useful for the rest of the night.” He leered at her and then bent to take a look at the lock.

Buffy released a long sigh of relief when the door swung open and then rushed through the doorway, almost knocking Spike to his knees. The thought of being caught was so not cool, especially as she now realised her lack of panties and the cooling stickiness down her legs.

It was eerie inside in the dark. The alleyway outside wasn’t especially bathed in street light and so the interior of the Bronze remained hard to navigate. Luckily for Buffy she was tethered to a member of the undead who could get her to the balcony staircase without more than a bump or two.

When they reached the stairs, Spike stopped and waved her ahead, though when her human eyes didn’t catch the gesture, he nudged her forward with an eager hand on her leather clad ass.

“Up you go, sweets. I’m right behind you.”

It was one of those sinister moments that should have set alarm bells off in her head, but Buffy was too intent on the flush that spread over her body as Spike almost plastered himself to her back, their joined hands occasionally brushing against what she could only guess was another pounding erection. Despite the widening of her eyes, Buffy couldn’t help the savvy little swish of her hips as she played with his mind. She lifted their hands and wound them around her waist, feeling all shivery as his protruding cock poked her in the cleft of her rear.

Once they reached the top, however, it seemed more than urgent that she find that key and cut the tie that held her to Spike’s side. Sure, she may have given it up to him twice already, but that she could put down to momentary madness and good taste. There was no denying that he’d brought her body crackling to life. But now it was time to crash back down to earth, and no matter how much she loved what he could do to her body, she couldn’t see what possible future they could ever have together.

With that in mind, Buffy began her mission of locating the stupid key. What the hell had she been thinking, anyway? Trying to safeguard the tiny piece of metal ensuring her freedom in her panties? It was almost funny in a completely kinky yet twisted way. And unfortunately, the thought of what had happened when Spike went looking for that key started a new gush of desire rushing to her lower extremities.

The crick developing in her shoulder was ignored for the greater good, and Buffy bent fully over to search the floor near where they’d been sitting—or more accurately, writhing. Leaving Spike to do little but make sure they weren’t caught.

It was an opportunity a Big Bad such as himself had no thought to passing up. Her ripe luscious ass waving in the darkened club and her pretty pussy still glistening from his earlier attentions. With a snap of his pants and the quiet but businesslike whir of his zipper, his cock was hard and pulsing as he slammed straight into her, only slightly sheepish that he’d pushed so hard her nose thudded against the thankfully padded couch she’d been searching under.

“Eep.” Buffy was surprised when she went face first into the couch, but the reassuring weight of his heavy cock spreading her wide again was almost more than she could bear. Her muscles went on automatic and she wanted everything she could get from him for this last time. It felt too good to stop; too good to rush.

His tension was released with a grateful groan as she squeezed his length and moved back to allow him further inside. He’d bloody struck gold with this one. Struck the mother lode and he was keeping it hidden from certain eyes. Bloody poof didn’t know what he was letting go when he jumped into his thumping big saviour complex and departed for browner pastures.

Joined hands had the same idea as they met at her clit, and they rubbed the delicious little nubbin together as Spike began plotting for when he was going to be able to take her juicy lips in his mouth and suck her to doomsday.

He’d lost the ability to think when his hand fell free of hers, knowing they stayed joined despite the sudden lightness of his limb. The thud of metal clunking on the floor was enough to register, and with a relief that felt similar to when he’d first fed after a drought of days, he tore her silky top from her torso and felt the beauty of her bare back as he kissed and licked her into a shivering mess.

She took control of the gentle massage of her clit, sighing in rhythm to the smooth yet slow glide of his cock in and out of her pussy, her plump lips sucking helplessly on him as he withdrew, and rejoicing every time he returned. And at last, two calloused hands found bared breasts to cup and mould. Her nipples slipped through the slots of his fingers, driving him to a panting desperation as he took the plump, roughened centres and pinched them hard. He felt the result all the way to his cock as she spasmed around him. Felt the animal inside him roar as he upped the tempo and jerked himself back and forth in time to a beat he must have memorised from the thumping music of earlier in the night.

Buffy was overwhelmed with sensation. God, she was adrift as to how this feeling could pervade her so deeply, could take her romantic streak and paint it scarlet. And suddenly the thought that she’d been having sex with Spike all night had no implications of badness at all. But boy was she gonna be sorry to return him back to Giles’s tonight. Especially after all the little passionate suggestions he’s implied were all for her once he had his hands completely to himself again.

Oh well, he was their prisoner, and that was the last coherent thought Buffy could manage as everything inside her seized up in anticipation of a major release, the likes of which had only been hinted at so far. This was so hot—her pussy burned against the cock that stretched her further than she’d ever been, pumped her deeper than any other had dared to go. She felt so much, felt his shape and texture to the very depths of her soul, and every time he bumped that special spot inside she felt like she was about to jump from her skin and leave it screaming behind.

They still hadn’t turned down the heat in the Bronze, and Buffy could feel the redness of her flushed face as she felt it coming—felt that need to let everything go and meet God as she was shunted further and further forward until now her hard nipples were scraping the rough fabric of the couch. It felt like heaven.

Then everything hit at once. Cold liquid jetted against her spot, fangs sunk into her neck, her nipples scratched hard over the fabric and her clit was pinched from out of nowhere. It must have been her, but the rationality of it was gone. Only sensation existed as it poured over her skin, flowed through her body and she howled in euphoric satisfaction.

Breath seemed difficult to come by as she slowly drifted back to earth, but by the time she made it back to solid ground, Buffy knew she was way overdue for a shower. Her body was completely covered in sweat and the sex juice. For the first time ever, the thought of being less than pristine in appearance made her feel pretty good about herself. It was kinda hot to know you looked like you’d been…

“Shagged six ways from Sunday.”

“Huh?” Buffy blinked over her shoulder, seeing the bright bleached hair as a beacon as a softening cock remained stubbornly in place.

“Baby, you suck the stamina from a bloke in the very best of ways.” With one hand still stroking her ass, he stretched. One arm reached for the skies as his muscles rippled in protest at how much he’d exerted himself for the night.

And his cock hardened again.

“I’d love to shag you all night, pet, and my dick obviously has no objections. What say we go and get cleaned up, and start again?” All while he moved back and forth, building up tempo as if a determined steam train desperate to reach the station.

They’d both come again before Buffy was able to reply. She was consumed by images naïve school girls searched out in their male friends’ magazines. The things she could try with her mouth, places she could feel the wetness of his…she wasn’t ready yet to say goodnight…but where?

And wouldn’t Giles be worried about her by now? He probably thought Spike had managed to get passed the blockade of the chip and drained her in a weak moment. Speaking of…

“Hey, you bit me. And no ‘arrrggghhhh’. What’s with that?”

He actually smirked and the view was as plain as if day had swept the night aside and shone right at him.

“Didn’ exactly here you screaming in pain.”

She reddened again and hid her face fast behind a curtain of tangled, sex ravaged hair.

“Killin’ my third slayer wasn’t exactly at the top of my list, luv.”

And as gross as that sentiment was, it was more than reassuring.

So, she had to reassure Giles, chain Spike up for the older man’s peace of mind, and then work out how they could continue their night of lust before the sun came up and bathed her in rational judgement. She’d come this far, she may as well make the most of it.

Besides, her night so far had been wild. What sane, red-blooded slayer type girl would want to let that kind of pleasure rest? Not this one called Buffy. She was so not ready to tuck her tail between her legs, wandering back to her dorm bed and only imagining all the kinky things she could be learning with Spike.

She’d rather be experiencing them first hand.


Return to Bloodshedverse Home
 Use scroll bars to see reviews