ISLAND ODYSSEY

~ :: CHAPTER ONE :: ~

Buffy knew it now; Angel bad.  She’d have to kill him, and, as much as she didn’t believe herself, she knew she would.  She leaned back against one of the gravestones and looked up at the stars.  

The one guy she’d ever really trusted turned psycho-vamp on her the second it got serious.  She’d heard of bad break-ups.

“Slayer,” growled a dark voice.  She turned to look at the peroxide-blonde vampire who stood in front of her, but other than that did not move; the stake was already in her hand.  “I need a word.”

“Oh, okay then.”  She sighed, dragging herself up off the grassy floor.  “Let’s go, blondie.”  She dusted herself off and raised the stake, standing ready to fight.

He frowned and tilted her head, making her feel out of the loop of some huge joke.  “Look, I’m not here to kill you.”  She snorted.

“Like you could.”  He narrowed his eyes and glared at her.  She shrugged and lowered the stake, standing up straight.  “Okay, what?”

“I think we can help each other out.”  He said.  She folded her arms and watched him. 

“Exactly how do you think you can help me, or I would want to help you?”  She rolled her eyes as he began to speak.

“Recently, Dru’s been--”

“What do I care for her?”  She asked, scowling, hands on hips.  “Now, can we get to the part where I kick your ass?” 

“What about Angel?”  He growled back, vomiting internally at the name.  “You still love him, right?”

She shifted feet, uncomfortably.  “Just for your information, no I don’t.”

His brow lifted momentarily before shooting them back down at the look on her face.  “Look, the way I see it is this; you need Angel and I need Dru, right?  Even if it’s just to kill them.”  She didn’t respond.  “We can help each other out.  I don’t kill you, and you don’t kill me.”  He watched her.  He could almost see the cogs turning in her brain.  “So, what do you think, Slayer?”

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER TWO :: ~

She couldn’t believe what she was doing.  It went against every bone in her body.  Could she trust him?  He was a vampire after all.  And he had no fashion sense.  He was late now; ten minutes.  Surely that was a problem.

She should have just dusted him in the very beginning.  That way, she wouldn’t have to be crouching behind a trashcan that smelt of everything but flowers, and she wouldn’t have to have lied to Kendra.  Okay, so the last part she didn’t mind quite so much.  Since the beginning, the other slayer had looked down her nose at her.  It shouldn’t have mattered so much.  In fact, it didn’t matter so much.  At all, in fact.

So what if she got on great with her friends?  So what if she had studied more?  So what if she had more tame-able hair?

Oh, just to see the look on everyone’s face when she comes back having dusted Angelus as well as Spike and Dru!  She smiled to herself. 

Now, if Spike would just get a move on!

Spike emerged from the bushes, his leather duster billowing behind him in the wind.  For a second there he almost looked impressive.

Breath, Buffy, breath!  She’d been outside for too long.  She smell of the trashcan was getting to her; fumes and all that.

He looked angry.  Damnit, she was angry too.  She stood up and glared at him, hands on hips. 

“Just what the hell is going on?”  She could stake him any time she wanted to.

“Your bastard ex is messin’ with Dru’s mind.  They wont go anywhere they do want to go.”  He growled, lowly.

“How about you make them want to go there, then?”

“How about you stop pretending the world revolves around you and--”

“How about I stake you here and now and test out that theory?”  She wasn’t sure what she just said made sense, but the overall message must have gotten through because he immediately stilled and stopped talking.  For now, he was glaring at her.  “Look, I thought we had a deal.  You bring Angel here, and I stake him.  What was wrong with that?”  Just saying his name made her wince.  Maybe she wasn’t as ready as she had led everyone to believe.

“What?”  He asked, sardonically.  “You mean besides the part where I actually make him shift his bloody great arse?”  He pulled a Marlboro and held it between his lips as he flipped back the head of his silver lighter and lit the tip.  He took a puff before continuing.  “They’re going out.”

“What?”  She cocked her head up; up till that point she’d been watching what he’d done with his lips.  Ah, she was tired.  That was all. 

“Tomorrow night they’re going out feeding.”

“Why aren’t you going with them?”  She asked, cautiously; if this was a plan to get her, she wanted him on the receiving end as well.

“They think I can’t walk…put me in a wheelchair…loads of bloody stairs,” he mumbled between puffs, “bottom line is I have to wait till they’ve been gone a while before I can leave.  Enough questioning, Slayer?  Or have you got a few more stuffed up that little blouse of yours?”  Instinctively she moved to cross her arms over her chest and glared at him.  He scoffed.  “Oh please, as if I’d want to see what you’ve got.”  He rolled his eyes. 

Her jaw dropped open.  “Back to the subject, please.”  She ground out in anger, her eyes bulging and searching the ground.

“Right, like getting your puff of a boyfriend away from my Dru.”  He ground out.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”  She said, angrily.  “And, with any luck, soon he’ll just be a little pile of dust on the floor.  As will you.”  She added.  He turned to glare at her.

“Hey, I thought the deal was that--”

“The deal was you help me get Angelus.”

“Yeah, but not get bloody killed in the meanwhile.”  He flicked his cigarette against the wall.  Some of the ash sparked then fizzled out.  “This was a stupid idea,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes, it was.”  She said, emphasising each word, hands firmly clasped on her hips.

“I should be eating you, not bloody talking.”  He morphed.

“Oh, is this the part where I scream?”  she asked, sarcastically.

Before either of them had a chance to lunge, something hard hit them both, knocking them out fully.  They fell to the ground instantaneously.

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER THREE :: ~

Buffy didn’t want to open her eyes; her head was throbbing too much.  She was faced-down lying on something hard and something was pressing into her back.  Suddenly, the thing she was lying on shifted.  Buffy opened her eyes and looked down.  Spike looked back up. 

Immediately, they both shot back away from each other.  They didn’t get far.  They looked around each other.  They were in a wooden box, large enough only to fit them. 

Buffy spread her arms either side of him and pressed away as much as she could. 

“What the hell is going on?”  She screeched.

“You think I know?”  He asked, angrily.  Something was pressing into his back.  Her knee was resting between his legs and he could feel every nuance of her body soft against him.  His body’s reacting to her was enough cause to panic, never mind the fact that he was trapped in a box somewhere with a splitting headache.

They heard voices.  Instinctively, Buffy lowered herself back towards him, not helping him with the whole ignoring his body thing.  God, he hated her.  Any minute know, if her neck just got a little bit closer, he’d bite.

Buffy stilled her breathing and listened. 

“They’re not speaking English.”  She whispered against his neck, her warm breath rising against him.  He scowled at his own reaction.  “What language is that?”

“How should I know?”  He spat back.

“Um, let me think,” she said, sarcastically, “because you’ve been around about a gazillion more years than me.”

“So?”  He growled.  He could feel the blood rushing through her.  He could hear it thumping in her veins against her skin, begging to be tasted.

“So, you should have learnt something in that time.”  She whispered back, frustrated, her arms flattened to his sides.  She gripped onto the sides of his shirt for emphasis.

“Like what?”  He wasn’t thinking straight.  God, he was an ass!  Get some control, damnit!

“Like what language this is!”  She squealed, pressing her fists against him.  They listened in silence for a while as the voices faded away.  “I think they’re gone.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”  He growled.  She didn’t move back.  She stayed there, pressed against him. 

“I can’t move.”  She whispered.  He didn’t say anything.  She began to wriggle against him.  “Seriously, I can’t move.”  She said, a little more desperately than before. 

“What?”  He asked, his needless breath jagged.

“There’s something in my back.  It wont move.”  He frowned.  “If I turn my head, you see what it is.”  She ordered.

“Who says I wont bite you?”  He whispered in a low growl.

“My knife right here, says.”  She tapped the front of his jeans.  “I assume vampires still want whatever worthless excuse for a gender is down here.”

“I know you want it.”  She froze.  “With Angel.  Gay ponce, about yay high.”  He said, banging his hand against the wood at his head.

“Just check the thing, Spike.”  She growled back.  For some reason it sounded more like a purr in her throat as the words caught in a whisper.  She tilted to one side. 

The blood was pumping in her neck.  Spike’s eyes flittered as he heard her pulse.

“What’s there?”  She spat angrily.  His eyes shot open as he tilted his head to look. 

“M-Metal rod.”  He cleared his throat, it was suddenly croaky. 

“Can you move it?”  She asked, genuinely.

He reached his hands around her and tried to push the rod back.  “Won’t budge.”  He grunted.  She wriggled in his arms.

“How ‘bout now?”  She whispered, flattening herself closer against him, one of her legs sliding between his.

He blinked and tried to concentrate before having another go.  “No.”  He whispered back, his voice ragged and worn. 

“Wait!”  She whispered, wriggling more against him, shimmying down his body.

“I warn you,” he said quickly, heatedly, “if you keep doing that, you’re going to find the big difference between me and your prick-less boyfriend.” 

She furrowed her brow in confusion, then froze. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  He growled angrily. 

“Well, how was I to know you think that I’m ho--”

“Don’t say it!”  He spat.  “And I don’t.”  His face contorted into an angry scowl.  “It’s all your bloody sliding about!”

“How is this my fault?”  She squeaked atop the all too hard vampire.

“Well, I didn’t wake up on top of you, did I!"

~ :: CHAPTER FOUR :: ~

“What time is it?”  Buffy whispered, suddenly aware of the silence outside again.  

“How should I bloody know?”

“I don’t know – use your vampire senses!”

“Vampire senses?”  He asked, in disbelief.  She glared at him in a knowing way.  “You’re joking, right?”

“Sniff the air and stuff…”  She trailed off, angrily.  

He let out a low growl and she tried to pull away from him.  He was far too close.  “Don’t you have a watch, Slayer?”  She pulled a face and wiggled her wrist.  “Oh yeah, that’s right, I forgot.  Too proud to be of use!”

“You know, I could just as easily slide down here and let this rod go into you.”  He’d forgotten about the metal that was effectively aimed at him.

“Yeah, well I could easily move and let my rod go into you!”  They both paused and tried to ignore what was going on.  The forced closeness meant that innuendos of any kind were a no-go area.

“We need to get out of here.”   

“Too bloody right.”  He muttered under his breath.  She moved to tap the wood at the headboard but as she did she felt Spike’s hands grab hold of her.  She looked down.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to get us out of here.”

“By putting your bloody s-self in my face?”  He growled.  She looked down and realised what he meant.

“Can’t you control yourself?”  She spat, angrily.  “Or do you want to stay here for the rest of your undead life?”  He pulled her down and reached above himself, tapping the wood.  

“It doesn’t seem to thick.”  He said.  “We can break through it easily.”

“What about the rods?”  She whispered.

“I don’t know.”  He began to smooth his hands down the sides of the crate.

“Spike stop!”  She whispered in urgency.  He stopped and they remained still for a moment, her breathing falling in the air.  

Suddenly, the crate was heaved into the air.  They both pushed their hands firmly against the sides and glared around at what they could see.  They were flipped in the air, and then they were falling.

“Oh my god!  Spike!”  Buffy cried in panic.  “What do we do?”

“I-I…”  He said, frantically trying to break lose.  

They landed on something.  Something had cushioned their fall to be less extreme, but they were still moving; no longer downwards, but sideways.  

Spike was now on top.

He stared down at Buffy.  “You alright?”  He breathed, raggedly, still pushing against the sides.  She coughed but nodded.  

“I can’t breath.”  She choked, pushing him back a bit.  He could barely move.  He shifted his legs and tried to lean to one side.  “Thank you.”

“We need to find out what’s going on.”  He said, turning to look down at her.  Their faces were very close now, almost touching.  

“Yes.”  She said, flattening her hands against his chest.  The contact seemed to shoot through them both.  “Spike?”  She questioned, huskily, but he wasn’t paying attention.  He was simply watching her lips, hungrily.  He made a faint sound of recognition but otherwise did not move.  

It was becoming too much for her.  If he moved any closer she couldn’t be sure whether she wanted to kill him or not.  

He moved closer and brushed his lips against hers, breathing in her breath.  He pulled back a little, then heard her whimper softly and felt her push herself up towards him.  He lowered his head and pressed his lips full against her.  To his shock, she did not recoil, but instead deepened the kiss.

  ~ :: ~

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER FIVE :: ~

Spike pulled back and stared at her.  Her eyes were wide with shock.  For a few moments they continued to stay staring at each other. 

Shocked. 

Confused.

The crate they were in rocked.  But still they stared. 

It was Buffy first who spoke:  “Whoa!  What was that?”  She swallowed and moved her eyes away from his face to the wood of the box.  They seemed to be slowing down, but she hadn’t noticed that.

Spike watched her as she gave a nervous laugh.  He swallowed and shook his head.  After a while when she was still laughing he responded.  “You alright, love?”

Suddenly, his use of the word magnified in her mind.  Love?  What the--  “Yeah, whatever, Spike.  What are you looking at?”

“Buffy, what--”

“I have to get out of here.”  She began to tap against the wood and pushed hard, squirming beneath him.  She could feel him rising against her belly, but she tried to ignore it. 

“Buffy?”

“What?”  She growled, slamming her hand through the wood.  Water began to pool in.  “Shit!”  She muttered.

“Tut tut, Slayer.  Picking up bad language.”

She would have glared at him, but “Spike, this is not the time!”  She snapped. 

He would’ve argued but his coat was getting decidedly wet…too wet.

Together they punched and broke the crate apart.  The moon’s reflection and cool see air swept over them, as did an all too present wave. 

“Shit, Slayer!”  Spike growled as he caught hold of the stake that had been pressed against him and flung it far, far away.  “Could’ve checked if it was daylight.”

“Why?”  She glared at him and began to drag herself up onto the shore.  The bar that had been pressed against her back was now sunk and out of view.  “Do you really think I care what happens to you?”

Oh, fine!  So she was back to being her usual bitchy self.  Like it mattered anyway.  Spike scoffed, joining her on the sand.  “Fucking sea…” he muttered, pulling off his leather duster, “fucking ruin…fucking years…just at perfection!”  He began to wring it out and turned his head slightly to see Buffy squeezing the moisture from her hair and trying to keep it away from her face.  Her clothes were stuck to her body from the sea, silhouetting her form in all the right places. 

Growling at his body’s reaction, Spike turned and began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it, along with the duster, onto the more grassy ground.  He pulled off his t-shirt and rung it out before turning.

He stopped.

He frowned.

Buffy was stood there, watching him.  Guiltily she turned away immediately, having jumped slightly in the realisation of what she’d done…what she’d been caught doing.

He smiled to himself for a moment.  After all, he was only human…well, he was still a man, at least.  He shook his head and pulled his belt off. 

She closed her eyes as she heard it snap.  Biting her lip, she pretended to be tying her hair back, but the sensations were already growing inside her, magnifying the sounds she heard. 

She heard him drop his jeans to the ground and jumped, turning around abruptly.

“Okay, whoa!”  She said, putting her hand out to stop him, but keeping her eyes closed for her own sense of modesty.  “I so don’t need to see that, so put those back on.”

She heard him scoff.  “Not a bloody chance, Slayer.”  He bent down and picked up his pile of clothes.  “I’m soaked and not in the mood for the feel of wet denim on my skin, got that?”

“Just put the clothes on, Spike.  I don’t want to see you naked.”  She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks.

“You do.”  He rumbled low in his chest.  “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to go any further, so you might as well just open your eyes while you’ve got the chance.”

“Ew, gross!”  She said, turning her head in the direction of his voice.  He hung up his clothes over some branches.  She scrunched up her face.  “You have a really over inflated idea of yourself, vampire.  Cover yourself up before I’m sick!”

“Calm down, Slayer.”  She heard his voice behind her and spun round. 

“Are you decent?”  She called out to him.

“Yeah.”  He said, simply.  She opened her eyes to see his naked body moving towards the trees and carrying dry wood back.  She observed him, numbly, for a moment, before snapping her eyes shut.

“You lied!”  She whined.

“You looked.”  He rebutted simply and unashamed.  She opened her mouth to speak, but he got there first.  “Anyway, it’s not like your not giving me an eyeful.”

She opened her eyes, looked down at herself, and desperately began pulling at the soaked material that was showing her new black lingerie kit all too well.  “Stop looking!” 

“You looked at me first, pet.”  He said, standing up and shrugging.  He moved over to his coat and pulled out a lighter, flicking it open a few times to check that it was working.  Then, he moved back and lit the wood.  He sat down in the sand next to it, and then looked at her.  “Take your clothes off.”

“I am so going to kill you.”  She spat back from the other side of the fire.  She didn’t want him to see her.  “Stop looking at me, you dick!”

“Like I’d want to.  Anyone ever tell you, you have an over inflated idea of yourself?” 

“Yeah, you!”  She snapped.  “About ten minutes ago.”

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER SIX :: ~

Buffy sat down, gradually shifting closer to the fire, warming herself and drying her clothes as best she could.  She rolled up her skirt around her thighs, and had unbuttoned her top quite a bit.

“I need a drink and a smoke.”  Spike growled, reaching over to his nearly dry clothes and pulling out his silver bottle of whisky and his ruined ciggs.  “Shit.”  He whispered dropping them to dry next to the fire.  They’d never light until they were perfect.

He shot Buffy a glance.  She was still trying to make this as formal as possible, and had a fixed scowl over her face. 

“If the wind changes your face will stick like that.”  Spike said, across the fire, taking a hearty swig of the drink.

She shot him a murderous look and a scowl. 

“Drink?”  He offered.  She continued to glare.  “Fair ‘nuff.”  He shrugged, pressing it to his lips again and swallowing the amber liquid. 

She was shaking; a little from anger, a little from the wind, a lot from the wet clothes that were clinging to her.

He eyed her again.  “Take ‘em off.”

She didn’t even dignify it with a response.

“I won’t look.  Scouts honour.”  He added, as she watched him wearily for a moment. 

“And I should trust you because?”

“Because I don’t fancy you.”  He growled.  Why was this such a big deal for her?  She should just take off her clothes and everyone would be happy!  Christ!  “And unlike most of the pre-pubescent boys you hang around with, I’m not here out of a choice to spend my Saturday evenings with you.”

“Who says it’s Saturday evening?”  She shot back.

He tapped his nose and lay back in the sand.  “Vampire.  Sundown was a couple of hours ago.”  He twisted his head a little to look at her.  “Just get naked.  I’m not gonna tell.  Not in it for the kicks.” 

He shot his head back as she turned to look at him.  She did need to get out of those clothes.  He’d been right about how uncomfortable they were mixed with the sand.

“Promise you wont look?”  She eyed him wearily over the flames.  He didn’t turn. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”  Thankfully already dead, though.

“Okay, don’t look.”  She angered.  “Or I’ll stake you.”

He’d wanted to say something about the staking be the other way around if she was naked, but thought wised of it. 

“Deal.”  He said, instead.  “Then I don’t have to listen to your heartbeat jolting from here.”  He covered his eyes with one arm and laid the other across his chest. 

She paused for a moment, and then moved her hands to unbutton her top completely.  She slid it off and carefully laid it next to the fire, pausing to observe his naked form.  He certainly was more athletic than she’d thought…more muscular.  She tried to banish the thoughts from her mind.

She needed to stay calm.  Especially if he could hear her heartbeat.

He could hear her heartbeat.  And every now and then it would speed up.  The slayer certainly was different to the others.

She unzipped her skirt and snail-shrugged uncomfortably out of it on the sand, putting it next to her shoes and shirt. 

She looked down at herself, and nearly moved to remove her black lace thong, before thinking better of it.  She need to keep some of her Slayer dignity over him. 

“You naked yet?”  He growled, low and deep.

“I’ve kept some stuff on.”  She said, before thinking better of it. 

“’Kay.”  He said, sitting up.  He looked across and his eyes widened.

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER SEVEN :: ~

Spike was getting hard…far too noticeably so now that the clothes that had cloaked him earlier were still drying.  It was too much; what she showed…and concealed!  Why did she have to wear black lace?  Didn’t she know what that does to a man?

Her skin was golden as the flecks of firelight danced around her.  She looked so creamy as he followed her long neck down to wear it met the lace.  He clamped his jaw shut and let his eyes sleepily wander over the luscious curves of her breasts, perfect for moulding.  He wanted to touch her…taste her…

He ground his teeth together.  He stood up and cleared his throat, carefully to stay turned away from her.  “I’m gonna go look for some food, and shelter for the morning.”

She didn’t turn, but remained huddled by the fire, hugging her knees against her chest.

Once he had gone, she let out a long…long breath.  Christ!  How was he doing this to her?  Usually she only had one thought on her mind when she saw him.  Now, that one was increasingly fleeting, and being replaced by another. 

She heard a loud moan of pleasure from behind her. 

She turned her head and looked towards the forest, but she couldn’t see anything. 

The moan came again, and again.  Spike’s voice.

Ewww – was he?

She stood up and lifted one of the lit pieces of wood from the fire, holding it as a torch, and headed towards the noise.

“Oh, yeah!”  She heard him call.  “Bloody hell!”  Gross!

“Spike?”  She called out in the direction of his voice.  “Spike?”

“Buffy, come here.”  He shouted back.  She followed him and could vaguely make out his form, moving behind some trees. 

“Spike, maybe you should come here.”

“Oh, god!”  He moaned, again.  “No, Buffy.  You’ve got to help me with this.”  There was an urgency in his voice that unnerved her.

Had he gone crazy? 

“Er, Spike?”  She was barely interested--  She stopped herself, dead.  She wasn’t at all interested.  “Spike, get your white, undead ass out here now!”  She ordered, stopping still.  Did he honestly expect her to just go and help him jerk off?  Or what?  Join in?

“God, just come and try this!  It’s so bloody gooooood!”  She heard him moan again.

She pushed the bushes back and moved forwards.  “Oh, for god’s sake, Spike, would you just--” she stopped herself dead.  “There is something so completely unbalanced about you, did you know that?”

“Sh, just come here and try this fruit.”  He was sat outside a trapdoor in the ground, a smugglers store, enjoying the sensations in his mouth.  “Food, I mean real bloody food!  I haven’t been able to taste it properly for ages.  Come here, you’ve got to try this.”

He stood up and moved towards her, carrying a half-eaten pear in his hand.  He stopped a foot away from her when he noticed that she was just in a bra and thong. 

“That’s um--” he stuttered, his body explaining the rest.

“Eugh!”  She screwed up her face. 

He took a quick breath and leant forwards.  “Try this!  Last one!”  He forced the pear between her lips, making her drop her make-shift torch, casting them into darkness.  She bit into it and pushed him back.  “So good, huh?” 

“You fucker!”  She shouted, choking down the small chunk of pear that had stayed in her mouth.  Juices were dribbling down her face. 

“As a vampire, the only thing with flavour has been blood and--” he cleared his throat, “other bodily things.  But this…”  He trailed off as all the anger left her face and she licked the wetness from her lips, eyeing the pear in his hands hungrily. 

Careful not to let any drops go to waste, she moved forwards, cautiously, and held onto his hand, pulling it more securely against her.  She pressed her lips against it and sucked on the juices, before biting into the tender flesh.  She moaned, heady and womanly. 

Spike was hard for her, his erection pressing against the side of her hip as she tugged his hand closer to her.  It was the last pear.  He wanted it back, she had nearly finished it, and kept stopping to lap up the drips that ran down his arm. 

He pulled away from her and she spun around, pressing her lips against his in a swift, powerful movement.  She dropped his hand and moved hers to cradle his face as she pushed herself to get closer to him. 

Her tongue forced into his mouth and dipped against his.  She tasted so sweet…he wanted more!

He dropped the pear and moved his wet hands to her back, pushing her flush against him.  She whimpered a little, eager to feel him more, and wove her hands through his hair.

“Fuck, Buffy!”  He groaned as she left his lips and began to trail her hot mouth down his chest to his erection.  She closed her lips around it and began to massage the tip with his tongue.  “Christ!” 

Her hands held firmly onto his ass as she cupped his balls in one hand and pumped him with a mixture of her other and her mouth. 

The hotness of her mouth, the wetness of her lips, the slight suction of her mouth, it was all becoming too much for him.  “Shit, Buffy stop!”  He shouted pulling back from her.  He joined her on his knees and met her mouth, tasting himself on her. 

She was moaning, trailing her hands over his chest, down back onto his slickened, twitching length.  He moved his hands to her bra, tugging at the straps with a quick, frustrated fury, eventually just yanking it down below her breasts.  He bent his mouth to taste one nipple, eliciting a throaty groan as he did so. 

“Like that, do you?”  He growled, watching her lick her lips and nod, numbly. 

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER EIGHT  :: ~

Option Read 1:  They make love.

Option Read 2:

She was shaking in ecstasy by the time he finally reached the line of her thong.  The black lace was held together by ribbon at either side, tied in bows.  He grinned to himself; kinky! 

He undid the bows with his fingers, biting her mouth back fiercely as she pressed against his with equal force.  As soon as the damp material was freed, he rubbed his hand down her hips, and lightly between her legs. 

He was being too soft, damnit!  And she was in the mood for something different…something stronger.

She clamped her thighs shut around his hand and used her own to force his fingers inside her.  She shuddered, hard, at the contact, and heard him chuckle.  Her eyes shot open and glared at him.

“Impatient for me, pet?”

Every cell in her brain was telling her just to stake him; this had already gone too far.  But every muscle in her body was desperate to finish what had been started. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but he got there first.  “I like that.”  He grinned, before pressing his face against hers, devouring her lips with an unbridled hunger.  She moaned against him when he thrust his fingers higher inside her and somehow managed to get her onto the ground without movement. 

She nipped his bottom lip slightly when he pulled away.  He stopped all movement and looked at her.  Teeth?  She looked intensely at him, towering above her, purveying her with a keen interest. 

When he didn’t move for a while longer, she spread her legs, reached up, and grabbed hold of him, guiding him inside.  That seemed to snap him back into action!

“Oh, Buffy!”  He groaned, and he pushed hard and to the hilt.  She was so tight, so wet; his own velvet glove. 

“Ah-unh!”  Buffy moaned in response, writhing on the sand, moving against him, encouraging him to move.  The words that he was whispering, groaning were making it even better!

“Fuck!”  He shouted, and began to move, mechanically, slowly pumping into her.  “Yeah, take it!”

Buffy licked her lips and opened her eyes just in time to see him lower his head, and his mouth encase her nipple again.  He turned himself onto one side, his entire weight supported by one arm, whilst he moved his other hand between them.  He was rubbing her in just the right places, making her make noises she didn’t even knew she could make; breathy, throaty, womanly noises.

“Unh, Spike!” 

When she’d said his name, it was out there.  He definitely didn’t stop, but had to lift his head up and stare at the beach around them to stop it from ending so soon. 

God!  Everything that she was doing was so perfect, if only it could be a little—

“Faster!”  She shouted, her voice rasped.

Thank god!  Thank Buffy!

He charged into her, growling loudly against her ear, his weight shifted back onto both hands, stationed either side of her shoulders. 

“So…fucking…amazing!”  He breathed.  “So…fucking…wet!  So…fucking…tight!” 

Buffy couldn’t believe what was going on.  When she had been with Angel it had been slow, and soft.  Thank God that Spike was neither of those things; he seemed to know exactly what she wanted without her even knowing it herself. 

He was laying almost flat against her now, pushing them higher and higher up a mountain that she could only pray was coming soon!  His naturally well-toned muscles were now in place of his hands, which had coiled themselves into her hair as he propped himself up on his elbows. 

Her high, firm breasts were rubbing against his chest as he looked down to survey his conquest.  God, she was beautiful.  How come he’d never really noticed before now?  Well, she was the Slayer.

“Buffy!”

But he had to stop, he had to make this moment last.  He bent his head and licked her sweat-gleaned neck, his hot tongue spiralling around her sensitive pulse point.  He could feel, sense the blood rushing just below the surface.  He could just take her.

He bit back a snarl and took her ecstasy-opened mouth instead.  His tongue found hers immediately, and they tasted each other, headily.  Their kiss seemed to deepen as they stopped briefly to let her pant for a few more minutes. 

She was meeting him in every way.  Her hips arched up to meet his with every slam, and her entire body seemed to surge to glue to his.  It was amazing.

She could feel it inside her, like waves crashing down onto a shore.  The wave was so big, though, and the crash was so long.  She couldn’t believe it!  The pleasure from…from…

“Spike!”  She screamed as it surged within her.  The fierceness of the fall was cataclysmic as the wave washed over her, repeatedly, and he joined her, erupting inside her with no thought for anything but the feeling…the feeling, and her.

  ~ :: ~

:: CHAPTER NINE  :: ~

Spike sniffed the air before he opened his eyes.  How had he managed to sleep after that?  It had been…un-fucking-believable!

Buffy wiggled beneath him and he opened his eyes just in time to see her waking up.  She blinked sleepily for a moment then smiled.  How had he done that?  It had been…beautiful!

“Morning.”  He said, grinning a little sheepishly at her.

“Morning.”  She replied, blushing slightly.  She was grateful that he had been lying slightly to one side, because the part of him on her was crushing her!  She kinda liked it!  She blinked a few times and looked away at the island in the daylight.  “Morning.”  She repeated again, staring at the sun.  “Shit, Spike!”  She said, pushing him off and out of her. 

He watched her confused and hurt as she leapt up.  “What’s wrong with you?”  He angered as she jumped around a little.

“How come you can suddenly live in the daylight?  What have you done to me?”  She flipped up her bra and looked around for her thong.  He stood up and looked around. 

Shit!  He could see…he could be alive!  The light it was, it was, it was glorious.  “Shit!”  He gasped, looking at his hands. 

Buffy found the thong, but decided not to put it on…not in the state that it was in!  She covered what she could with her hands.  Then she looked nervously up at him.  “A-Am I dead?”  She swallowed hard. 

He stopped and turned to her, smiling.  “What?”  He asked, confused.  He couldn’t believe his skin wasn’t burning…that he was still alive.  Well, dead-alive.  He finally seemed to hear her question.  “If you are then so am I.  I didn’t kill you.”

She cautiously stepped over to him, looking him up and down.  He grinned, unashamedly, back.  “Spike?”  She asked, her eyes turning to his.

“Yes, pet.”  He smiled, still high off the food in his system, the fact he hadn’t died, and, of course, last night! 

“Stop looking at me!”  She shouted, connecting her strong fist to an unsuspecting Spike’s head.  He fell to the ground, unconscious.

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER TEN  :: ~

When he awoke, Spike found himself modestly half-dressed, his jeans hiked up around his thighs, and his shirt covering him.  His jacket wasn’t far off, either.  He sat up and pulled his clothes on properly, his boots the only things that hadn’t fully dried. 

So, he decided when he was fully clothed, she was pissed!  Probably didn’t want the wanker to find out.  Frankly, Spike couldn’t wait to tell Angel.  Just the thought of describing the events to him put a smile on his face. 

There was a part of him, the nice part, that was telling him not to kiss-and-tell.  But that part was being ignored, seeing as Buffy had knocked him out and left him there.  For all he knew he could have been abused…sexual.  A wicked smile played on his lips.  If only!

Sighing, he dipped his hands into the pockets of his coat and looked for a drink or a fag.  His pockets were empty.  Not even the voucher for half-price Weetabix were there. 

He bit his teeth together and glared about in the sun.  Where was the bint?  Oooh – she hadn’t been dead when she woke up, but give it a minute and she’d never wake up again! 

“What,” he said, growling as he trudged along the beach, following footprints in the sand, “what kind of sick, twisted, selfish person would chuck a man’s fags and booze?”

“Buffy!”  He roared, calling out as he spied a form that could possibly be hers in the distance.  Whatever it had been disappeared into the trees.  Buffy. 

Spike growled angrily and made off in the direction that she had been.  Did she honestly think that one shag meant that he wasn’t going to kill her?  Bloody hell!  He didn’t love her…he was in love with Dru.

He thought about it.  He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.  Was it love?  Had it ever been love?

He banished the thoughts from his mind.  He had to focus his anger on Buffy--  He shook his head.  Since when was she called Buffy?  She was the Slayer…a Slayer.

“Oi,” he growled as he pushed back one of the branches in his way and saw her just a little in front.  She didn’t stop, but merely kept walking.  “Hey!  Slayer, I’m talking to you.”

“Go away, Spike.”  She growled back, pushing her path through the thickening trees and foliage away from the beach. 

“Oh, I’m not going any-bloody-where.  Not till I’ve killed you.”

She stopped and turned to look at him.  Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face tired.  There was a small scratch on her cheek that hadn’t begun to heal.  She was a Slayer, so it must have happened seconds ago.  He assumed it was from the plants – some of them looked really sharp.  It must have hurt her.  He should have been there to pull back the plants for her and—

He growled, internally, and shook himself.  He was a vampire, she was a Slayer.  Heck – he was the Slayer slayer…

“What is it about this time that makes you think that you’ll be able to kill me, exactly?  I’m curious.”

“Hoh!”  He laughed, in disbelief.  “And you think you could kill me?”

She folded her arms and rolled her eyes; bored with the conversation already.  “Look, do you wanna come with me or not?”  She asked after a short pause.

“I--”  He cut himself dead and furrowed his brow, watching her.  “What?”

“Do you want to come with me?”  She spelt out, leaning forwards and speaking louder so that he might understand.  God, she could be infuriating!  He looked like he still needed it explaining, so she continued.  “This island slopes.”  She said simply, trying to keep it so for his benefit.  “Therefore, there must be a point where everything is.  Whatever happens, we were brought here for a reason, and you eating the fruit, us being with each other,” she struggled over the word ‘with’, “and everything else that’s happened, must have happened for a reason.  Do you agree?”

He didn’t say anything, merely stared at her.  There was a drop of blood that was beginning to slide down her cheek.  He tried to focus.

“Hello?”  She asked, tiredly.

“What?”  He asked, forcing his gaze away from the crimson liquid. 

“Same box, same island, same fruit, same…other stuff.”  She couldn’t look at him.  “I figure we’ve got to stay together.”

“That why you left me?”

“No, I left you because I was sick of seeing your hard-on for me.”  She said, far too quickly to be a lie.  Even unconscious he was impressive.

He closed his mouth for another moment and watched her return to his eyes.

“You’re either with me or I have to kill you.”

“Kill me?”

“Yeah.”  She said, arms still folded, as she stepped towards him and looked almost vertically up to see him.  There was very little space between them, he could feel her breath on his face.  “And?”  She asked.

“Alright,” he said, simply, “only coz you need me to watch your back.”  He lifted a hand slowly and wiped the blood from her cheek.  Her eyes flittered uncontrollably at the contact. 

“What are you doing?”  She asked, clamping a hand down onto his. 

“You’re bleeding.”  He said, showing her the blood on his finger.  His voice was barely a whisper as he struggled with the demon within.  He lifted his finger to his lips, but she held onto his hand and pulled it down to hers. 

  ~ :: ~

ISLAND ODYSSEY

~ :: CHAPTER ELEVEN  :: ~

Buffy closed her eyes as she felt the metallic liquid reach her tongue.  She wrapped her lips around his finger and teased the crimson blood around her mouth.  It was like liquid fire, pulsing through her.  She moaned slightly, and continued suckling her tongue on his finger.

She froze and opened her eyes.  His finger.  Spike’s finger.  She let go and pulled back.  Oh, boy!  This would take some explaining.

He was watching her, open mouthed, intrigued with her actions, and his body’s own reactions. 

“I, er--”  She began but stopped when he pulled her against him and trailed his tongue along her cheek, against the blood trickling from the wound.  To him, it was warm and fruity, and sweet and…

“Mmmn,” he grunted against her, cradling her face in his hands.  He heard her gasp, and traced his lips around to her mouth. 

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat.  They were kissing.  They were kissing, again.  She had to stop this.  This couldn’t go on.

She tried to pull back, but his tongue was twirling inside her mouth now, teasing at her lips, in such a way that meant she couldn’t concentrate properly.  He let out a low rumble.  It left his mouth and rattled through her entire body. 

Spike secured her towards him with one hand at her waist, and with the other, lifted the hem of her skirt with the other.  She moved her hands to protest, but he moved one away and pressed on.  Soon, she began to surrender to sensation and concentrated her fingers on pulling him closer.

His fingers seemed to dance along her upper thighs, as he lightly tickled her, rising higher, until he smoothed his hands over her firm, bare behind.

“Getting to the bottom of things, huh, Spike?”  Angel’s voice dripped, spoiling the mood.  Buffy shot back from Spike, and pulled her skirt down, wiping her mouth on the back of her hands and turning to see her ex-lover stood hands-in-pockets next to another vampire with long black hair…Drucilla. 

Spike growled as he saw the way that she was draped over him, dancing slightly against him.  “What the hell are you doing here?”  He bit out.

“Same as you, I imagine.”  He lilted back.  He seemed completely unaffected by the humming slave trailing around him.

Spike, however, was all too aware.

“So, you can walk.”  He said nonchalantly, as if this was an ordinary conversation, in an ordinary situation, between ordinary people. 

Spike didn’t respond, he was busy watching Dru. 

Angel turned to her.  “He wont listen, Dru, what shall I do?”  He dripped.

“Oh, my little baby’s still tired, isn’t he?”  She said, slinking over to him, barely in control of her own limbs.  “Hasn’t been sleeping well, has he?”  She shook her head and reached a hand forwards to touch him. 

Buffy ground her teeth together.  She shouldn’t be touching Spike.  Didn’t she know the effect she had on him. 

Dru tapped him on the nose.  “Don’t be rude.  Talk to your granddad.  Be a good little boy.”  She petted him on the head.

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER TWELVE  :: ~

Spike was about to reply, when Buffy got there first, tugging him away from her.  “Listen,” she said, pulling on his coat sleeve to secure him next to her.  She had no idea where her strength was coming from.  “No touching.”  She snapped, irritably.  “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t want to look at Angel, but she knew she had to.  His eyes were cold, black beads.  He was enjoying this.  “Hi, lover.  Getting a little hot under the collar for yours truly?”  He flicked his eyes over her body.  He must have seen—oh, god!  What had he seen?

Buffy folded her arms across her chest.  She would have to be strong.  She tried to ignore the way he was looking at her, and glared back.  She couldn’t believe that she had once loved him…  No, it hadn’t been him.  He was Angelus.  She had loved Angel.

There was no Angel.

“How did you two get here?”  She snapped, tiredly.  Spike was still watching Dru as she coiled herself around Angel.  “I assume you came together.”

“We’ve come more than once together, Buffy.”  Angel said.  Dru bit the air by his mouth, and giggled.  “Arrived in a box, didn’t we Dru.”  She giggled again, and rubbed herself against him.

Buffy looked away.  “Do you have any idea why we’re here?”  She turned to Spike to join in, but he was still transfixed to the spot, staring, angry.

“Me?  No idea.”  Angel scoffed.  “Just ended up here.  Been keeping busy, though.”  He laughed lightly, reaching out and giving Dru’s breast a little squeeze.

Spike snapped. 

He lurched forwards, breaking into game face, and punched Angel, catching him off guard.  He fell back into the dust.  Dru grinned and clapped her hands together as Angel jumped back up and a scuffle broke out between the two vampires, spurred on further by the blood drawn in the quarrel.

“Stop!”  Buffy shouted, running forwards and wrenching one away from the other, throwing Spike against a tree, and keeping a strong hand pressed against Angel’s chest.  “That’s enough!”  She continued to shout, pushing Angel until his face returned to normal. 

Spike wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, and then dipped his tongue to taste it.

“Oh,” pouted Dru, “spoiling my fun.”  She whined.

Spike growled as he stood up.  “Touch her again like that and I’ll rip your throat out.” 

Dru giggled and entwined her arms around Angel.  “Now boys, fight to kill!  Mummy wants to see daddy at his best.”  Spike could feel the emotions inside swirling and he wanted to die…and to kill.

Angel grinned and forced eyes to continue watching by biting down a kiss to her mouth. 

Buffy hated it.  She wanted out.  He had meant so much to her once…she was grateful that those feelings had already started to fade some time ago.  It made it easier for her to accept the truth; “I’m going to kill you.”  She said, glaring at Angel.  He laughed, then pushed Dru away, punching out at Buffy with lightening speed so that she had no time to protect herself. 

She fell back against Spike, forcing them both onto the ground.  His fist had connected with her cheekbone, and specks of blood had begun to show where his rings had grazed.

“Oi!”  Shouted Spike, pulling them both up. 

  ~ :: ~

:: CHAPTER THIRTEEN  :: ~

“Touch her again and I’ll bloody kill you!”  Shouted Spike, stepping in front of Buffy.

She pulled him behind her.  “Spike, really, I don’t need you to protect me.”  She glared across at Angel.  “Touch me again and I’ll bloody kill you!”

“Now, now,” Dru chided, weaving her way forwards, her hands coasting up her body, “we don’t want to make mummy sad, now do we?  Mummy’s already upset you lied to us.”  The latter part was directed at Spike who shrugged off Buffy’s placement and stepped beside her.

“Didn’t do anything I didn’t need to, Dru.  You and angel-face over here were--”  He growled back, stopping abruptly as Angel’s iron fist hit hard and fast into his ribs.  He was shot back against a tree and fell down it to the ground before standing in time to see Angel go flying due to a high-kick which connected with his jaw.  He smiled, but only for a moment, as Dru took her turn to attack Buffy, one long fingernail cutting an inch-line into her throat before she was overturned and knocked back. 

Buffy’s hand shot to her neck, the blood trickling down onto her fingers.  It wasn’t deep, but it stung.  She looked momentarily at the blood against the pale colour of her skin and felt a rush, an urge to taste it.  She brought her fingers momentarily to her mouth and allowed her tongue one leisurely lap against the pad before she sealed her lips to savour the experience. 

She shivered at the slight tingling sensation it brought her, a kind of satiated need that made her skin buzz.  She blinked and realised what she was doing, lowering her hand.  Angel was lying back, watching her, with a hunger and breathlessness she didn’t completely understand.  So was Spike and Dru. 

She cleared her throat.  “Listen,” she said, “why’ever we’re here, I don’t think it’s wise that we’re together.”  She choked over the words.  She was on an island with three vampires and no one else.  This would really test her slayer strength.  She needed them on their own; first Spike.  She’d do him first and then… 

She gave herself a mental shake.  She wasn’t going to be doing anybody.  She didn’t want to be doing anybody.  Least of all some horny vampire she’d spent the last bus-load of hours stuck in a crate against.  Goose pimples freckled all over her body as she remembered what else she’d done on the island.

The vampires that had been watching with a bloodthirsty hunger, now watched with light interest as they sensed her body’s reactions.  There was a long pause.  She cleared her throat and stared at them, wiping the blood off her neck and onto her dress.

“You two want to leave anyway,” she ordered, “so go.  Spike and I will find a different way.” 

“Spike and you?”  Angel growled, uninterested in the willing vamp dancing around him.

“Me and you?”  Spike echoed in a way, a slight smile playing at his lips; she was getting hot and flustered at the thoughts in her head, and at the sight of her own blood. 

She didn’t like the way this conversation was going.  All that was happening in her mind was innuendo.  And the fact that her own body didn’t seem to be under as much control as she would like wasn’t helping…especially around creatures not known for a lack of awareness.

“We were paired for a reason.”  She continued with reason as best she could, but she couldn’t shake the track her mind was on.  She’d never felt this…weird.  “You and Drucilla, me and…” she choked out the name “Spike.”  She ground her teeth together.  She didn’t like the way they were looking at her but forced herself to keep eye contact.  “We’ll go this way,” she said, tugging at Spike, who was way too willing to follow, “and you go that way.  Okay?”

With a smug smirk on his face, Spike let his eyes fall down the body that he’d only moments earlier possessed as his own.  “Happy to oblige.”

Angel’s eyes grew dark for a moment as he watched them, before pulling himself up.  “Fine.”  He ground out.  “Dru,” he said, as she appeared to his invisible snap of his fingers, “let’s go.”  He folded his arms and turned in the direction he was heading, disappearing from the clearing. 

“Naughty boy,” Dru said, wagging her finger at him, “daddy’s upset, now.  Mummy’s got to go and kiss him better.”  She shot a wide-eyed glare at Buffy.  “Be careful, not all slayers dance with death.”

“All slayers?”  Buffy stopped walking and watched her.  “Other slayers?  Are there any on the island?  Is there anyone else here?”

Dru stared at her a moment longer and smiled.  Giggling to herself she trailed her hand across Spike’s chest before tapping him on the nose and slinking off.

“All slayers?”  Buffy swung round to face Spike.  “You heard that, right?  What does it mean?”

“Don’t know, pet,” he said, grinning at her and walking forwards, something else on his mind.  “Now, love,” he trailed his fingers up her arm, eliciting her attention, “fancy some horizontal jogging?”

  ~ :: ~

~ :: CHAPTER FOURTEEN  :: ~

Spike opened his eyes. 

He wasn’t sure when exactly Buffy had hit him, or how she’d managed to do it without him seeing.  But, somewhere along the line she’d done it, and done it well. 

He’d probably lost her with the calling her ‘love’.  It probably confused her.  As soon as his head stopped spinning, he’d think of another name to call her. 

Darling.  No, too posh.

Sweetheart.  No, too…Soldier-Boy-ish.

Pet.  He already called her that.  Maybe that was the problem.

Either way, he was now stuck on some bloody stupid island with the Slayer, Angel and Dru, and he had no idea why.  Scratch that.  A pissed slayer.  Why the hell was he even there?

He sat up and felt a distant throb between his eyes.  He hadn’t felt pain like that since he’d been alive.  Bloody hell! 

How about Little Miss Strong Hand?  Nah, that was terrible. 

Big Chief Pain Maker. 

Puny Girl Punch Hard.  He smiled to himself.  Puny Girl Make Boy Hard, more like.

He blinked and stood up, trying to get his bearings.  It was dark now and the moon that would have cast some light onto the island was shrouded by the over-hanging canopy. 

An alluring scent was in the air around him.  A heated body, the sweat and perfume of life.  Buffy’s heated body.

“Buffy?”  He called out, then grimaced.  His own voice was giving him a headache.  God, his head hurt!  How hard had she hit him?  He didn’t realise he could still be knocked-out, what with being a vampire and all.

He stood up when he got no response, and tentatively dabbed his fingers along the ridge of his nose.  Looking around he could see little, just the soft green hue of foliage that was in abundance. 

“Buffy?”  He said, moving forwards and pushing aside a curtain of leaves.  At least he could follow in the direction she had gone; the scent of arousal was unmistakeable.  She couldn’t be too far.

Following the path that his nose led him, he journeyed further into the undergrowth until the tall green grasses began to be replaced by small pebbles, and then larger ones.  He heard a soft thundering noise just passed what remained of the bracken. 

The thundering sound became louder, and more distinct as he pushed his way through.  It sounded like water.  Thundering water, falling and hitting rocks.

Buffy was an idiot. 

No, wait--  Scratch that.  He was an idiot.  Or, even worse, an idiot traipsing after an idiot who was willing to kill him.  But she hadn’t.  Which was odd.

He shouldn’t get hung up on minor details like that, though.  He was a vampire.  She was the Slayer.  He’d killed them before, and he’d do it again.  Buffy was no different. 

Granted, he’d never shagged a slayer before.  He grinned to himself and flicked his tongue against the ridge of his mouth.  He’d also tasted her blood. 

He let out a long breath.  He’d tasted it, and he’d do so again.  This time, however, he’d drink until she was dead, until her lifeless body fell limp in his arms. 

Yeah, that was right.  He’d kill her for sure the next time he saw her.  Shaking himself and nodding, revving himself up, he charged through the remaining cloak between him and the scent of Buffy that was so close now that he could almost taste her.

He stopped.  He blinked.  And he stepped forwards. 

In front of him, at his feet, lay Buffy’s discarded clothes.  More importantly, in front of him, at his fingertips, stood Buffy, naked, fresh water tumbling down over her hair and onto her bare breasts.  The water in the large rock pool reached just below them, causing them to bob and float a little in the current. 

Her fingers were entangled in her hair as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, causing her breasts, and other parts of Spike’s anatomy, to lift involuntarily. 

ISLAND ODYSSEY

~ :: CHAPTER FIFTEEN  :: ~

Buffy couldn’t hear anything other than the water pounding down around and on top of her, and the hollow echoing sound in her ears.  Her skin felt numbed by the thudding droplets against her skin.  Everything was calm and quiet, despite the noise and movement.

She let out a sigh as her hands moved from her hair to the dip of her shoulders, and then down to her breasts.  It felt good to wash away the last few days, and especially the parts with Spike. 

She refused to open her eyes.  God!  What had she been thinking?  And now Angel was here, and Drucilla.  They were certainly not alone.  Her guess was as good as anyone’s about exactly how many other people were on the island.  People, or vampire’s, that was.

She tipped her head further back and let out a sigh, her lips parting slightly.  The water felt really good. 

She cupped her hands under the waves and carried them up over her skin, her hands smoothing down her breasts.  She needed to start thinking logically.  She needed to formulate a plan.  She was the slayer after all.  Her hands lingered on her breasts, molding them gently, her fingers brushing against the tips. 

If she didn’t stay focused, no one else would.  It was up to her.  Completely and utterly. 

She smoothed her hands down her sides, stretching her fingers across the globes of her buttocks.  She let out a breathy sigh as her hands slid slowly around her hips. 

The water felt really good.  But she couldn’t reach lower.  If she did, she would end up submerging her head.  But she was ready…  She wanted—she needed someone.  Anyone!

“Mind if I cut in, pet?”

She didn’t even open her eyes.  She just shook her head blindly at the voice to her side, and, within seconds, cool fingers smoothed down across her shoulders.  She leant into the contact, away from the falling water, and sighed as hands reached around her from her waist and lifted up to her breasts. 

She sighed and rolled her head back, weaving her hands around the peroxide-blonde vampire behind her, pressing into the taut frame of his body.  His tongue lapped gently at the wetness behind her ear before his mouth sucked and nipped low beneath her jaw. 

“Ah, Spike.”  She smiled breathlessly, her eyes still closed. 

He smiled against her skin, moving his teasing hands further down her frame.  He spread one flat across her stomach, whilst with the other he dipped slowly between her legs and lifted one from the thigh.  Dutifully, Buffy tried to pinion herself against him and position ready for his embrace. 

He hitched her higher in the water and then entered her, the fingers on her stomach creeping lower.  She groaned, and then squealed Spike lost his footing in a desperate attempt to get closer and they both went under.

Immediately, he pulled her to the surface and checked her breathing.  “You alright, pet?”

She wove her arms around his neck wrapped her feet around his waist.  She would be soon…

Spike kneaded the flesh on her bottom as they both rubbed closer against each other, with no real contact.  Buffy bit his ear playfully and stroked herself along his silken length.  She felt him shudder and grinned.  His fingers made their way to her clit and began teasing the area around it until she was squirming against him.

“Spike!”  She whispered, desperately, breathy, her entire body desperate for release. 

He sheathed himself inside her, and they both grunted before he took a better hold of her and they began to move.

“Unh, unh, uuunhhh!”  Spike grinned then trailed his tongue down to her breasts and sucked and nipped at the tip.  

She was thrusting harder now, desperately building up the heat between them.  Feeling him inside her was un-fucking-believable.  A part of her still felt there was still too much space between them.  He felt so soft, and yet so hard inside her.

He picked up the pace as she began to spasm around him, fucking her into oblivion, before blasting over there with her.

~ :: ~

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