Chapter 3
Spike ended up taking the Slayer to her house on
Revello Drive. The dorm she probably stayed at on campus was too close to the GI
Joes for his peace of mind, and he’d doubtless spend too much time trying to
locate which dorm and which room she resided in. No, the house was definitely
easier. The biggest thing for him would be getting around the invite.
As he walked up to the steps of the Slayer’s home, he set her on her feet to
try the door. There wasn’t a car in the driveway, so he figured her mum
wasn’t home. He tried the knob and cursed under his breath when it didn’t
turn.
“Slayer? Hey…snap out of it, luv. You got a key?”
“Flowerpot,” she murmured, leaning against the wall.
Spike looked at her questioningly, scarred brow arched. Rolling his eyes at her
bemused expression, he turned and looked around the porch. Booted feet kicked at
various potted plants until he upturned the one that hid her house key. Bending
down, he snagged their means of entry and unlocked the front door. The door
swung inward the second he turned the knob and pushed, and Spike couldn’t help
the smile that lit up his face when his hand easily crossed the nonexistent
invisible barrier.
The Slayer hadn’t revoked his invitation.
“Come on, luv. Let’s get you upstairs to bed,” he told her, easily lifting
her slight frame into his arms. He practically purred his delight when she
wrapped her arms so trustingly around his neck and snuggled into his chest. Oh
yeah, he was going to enjoy his Slayer.
~*~*~*~*~
He watched as she bounced on the mattress a few times before settling, once he
dumped her on the bed. The short freefall must have triggered her adrenaline
because the dazed expression left her face and she seemed shocked that he was in
her bedroom with her.
“Wha-what are you doing here, Spike?”
“Don’t you remember, luv?” he asked, head cocked to the side, smirk
clearly evident on his features. He pushed away from the wall, allowing his
battered
duster to slide effortlessly from his shoulders, depositing it on the chair in
her room.
Buffy stared at the blond-headed master vampire, her eyes wide and unblinking
while he removed his coat and set it aside.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy? Put your coat back on and get out of here!
You can’t be in my room!” she screeched, unable to keep the rising hysteria
out of her voice.
Spike ignored her, calmly sitting on her bed and removing his boots, the
dual thuds as they hit the floor sounding ominous in her tiny bedroom.
“No. No. No. No! You can’t…I mean…Spike…my mother could come home!”
“Then I guess you’re just going to have to be quiet then, aren’t you,
pet?” he told her, rising to his feet and shrugging out of his black t-shirt.
Buffy’s jaw dropped having gotten a good look at his chest. ‘God, he’s
gorgeous!’ She licked her lips in appreciation, her heart rate kicking up
a notch. When they’d hidden in the crypt, she hadn’t been able to see him
too clearly, and it was mainly his back that had been exposed to her gaze while
she’d worked to pry the bullets out of him. Now, with the muted light from the
near full moon bathing his skin, she couldn’t help but appreciate the toned
muscles in his arms, his six-pack abs, the vee in his lower abdomen as it led
down to his…
She closed her eyes tight as Spike shucked his jeans. Just listened to the stiff
material slide down his lean hips, and what she imagined were his equally toned
thighs and calves before he stepped out of them. When she felt the bed dip under
his weight, her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes opened suddenly to seek
him out, too scared to just wait for whatever was going to happen.
The look on his face produced a flood of moisture that coated the curls covering
her mound. She watched him inhale deeply, and flushed in embarrassment. Buffy
didn’t know what to think, or to feel. She was out of her depths with Spike.
Their brief encounter earlier was probably a small taste of the kinds of pleasure he
could bestow upon her body.
Her eyes remained locked on him, staring in helplessly fascination while he
quickly removed her shoes and dropped them off the side of the bed. Then he
crawled up another few inches and set about undoing her skirt. Even though her
face turned a brighter shade of red, she didn’t stop him. The thought that she
was naked beneath the thin material flitted through her mind. Her panties ripped
from her while they’d been in the woods. For all she knew, they were still out
there.
She felt a cold rush of air across her legs and stared down at her nude limbs in
amazement. How he’d managed to divest her of her skirt, she wasn’t quite
sure. Her hands moved to cover herself, feeling much too exposed to his
penetrating gaze. His rumbled growl stopped her actions momentarily, but it was
his whispered, “No, don’t hide yourself. You’re beautiful,” that stilled
her movements.
He thought she was beautiful?
Her hands fell away to grip the sheets as he settled himself between her legs.
What was he doing--
The first tentative touch of his tongue on her outer
folds nearly drove her insane. Her hips would have come clean off the bed if he
hadn’t been holding her down.
“Spike!” she hissed. He was lapping at her pussy like a cat with a bowl of
cream. Neither of her two lovers had done that before, hadn’t even hinted that
it was something that they’d entertain. Yet, Spike was slowly driving her mad
with only his tongue, licking her slit as if if was the best thing since sliced
bread.
“Bloody hell, Slayer…”
Buffy didn’t hear him, too far gone to do nothing more than react to the
sensations he was creating. Her legs wrapped around his back; her hands left the
sheets to grip his hair – her one thought to hold him in place and never let
him move. Her hips rose from the bed, desperate to increase the friction against
her mound. When his mouth closed over her clitoris and bit down, her body
exploded into a thousand pieces. Her orgasm so intense that she nearly blacked
out. Her arms and legs tightened reflexively, and if Spike had been a mere man,
he would have broken beneath the strain.
Instead, he just growled fiercely while she rode out wave after wave of her
climax, finally collapsing back against the mattress, arms and legs sliding
bonelessly to her sides. Her heavy breathing the only sound breaking the quiet of
the room.
Spike thought he’d die if he couldn’t bury himself in the Slayer’s quim.
The sheer intensity of her orgasm took him by surprise. And he didn’t even
have to tease her with his fingers to bring her off. Just his tongue alone had
managed to send her hurtling over the edge. She was so responsive… and she was
his.
His.
His desire to claim her once more had him surging up her lax body and burying
his cock deep within her heated channel. He felt her arms and legs wrap around
his body, locking him in place as he set up a frenzied rhythm, thrusting in and
out of her pussy in a hurried pace that would quickly send her tumbling towards
another orgasm, knowing that her Slayer muscles would coax him to his own
release. That was his prize. Feeling her walls squeezing his cock, milking him
of his come.
One hand came up to cup her breast beneath her shirt, their hips continually
smacking together. He needed to taste her. Shoving her shirt and bra out of his
way, his lips latched on to one puckered nipple and sucked it into his mouth.
His fangs elongated and pierced her flesh, causing her to cry out in surprise.
He released her flesh and lapped at the blood that pooled from the tiny holes.
Her fingers returned to his hair, gripping it hard to hold him in place.
God, he loved it when she was rough like that!
He pulled all the way out off her, flipping her over and pulling her to her
hands and knees, slamming back into her before she had a chance to let out a
sound of protest. Once more he set up a punishing pace, driving his cock into
her slick passage just as hard and deep as she could take it. And, she took it
all…and begged for more. Pushing back against him, grinding against him,
while his hips continued their frenzied thrusting. He could feel his balls
tighten with his impending release, and he lifted her upper body back against
his chest, allowing him to run his fangs along the back of her neck. His hands
weren’t idle, one coming to fondle one of her breasts, while the other delved
into the curls at the apex of her thighs to finger her clit.
When her inner muscles tightened around his cock, signifying her release, he
gripped her hips in his hands and slammed her down on his length. His fangs
struck blindly, latching on to the back of her neck as his cock flooded her
channel with his cool seed. His hips stilled and one arm came up to wrap around
her waist, the other crossed her upper torso to grip her shoulder. He held her
to him, releasing the back of her neck and growling a possessive “mine”
before burying his fangs back into his claiming mark.
Buffy offered no protest, her body in the grips of its third orgasm. When the
last shudder finally passed through her body, she collapsed back against him,
her skin tingling where his tongue laved at the fresh marks on her neck.
Somehow they collapsed upon the bed, still intimately joined, Spike’s arms
wrapped around her allowing her head to rest upon his arm. Lulled by the
vibrations coming from his chest, Buffy drifted off to sleep.
Wide awake after having slept the whole day, and juiced on her blood, Spike
watched the rise and fall of the Slayer’s chest while she slept peacefully in
his arms. After a bit, he managed to disentangle himself from her grasp and slip
silently from the bed. He stepped into his clothes and wrote her a quick note,
his flowing script at such odds with his evil demeanor. When he was finished, he
tucked the folded piece of paper where she would see it upon waking, and pulled
the covers up over her body.
He left the room without making a sound, pulling her door shut behind him. Once
downstairs, he wandered around the room for a minute before snagging a picture
of the Slayer. With so many there, they’d hardly miss one.
Slipping out the front door, he stretched his senses, determined to not be
caught unaware by the dark-clad figures that had taken to roaming the streets of
Sunnydale. He needed to find a place…someplace the Slayer wouldn’t mind
seeking him out. Now that he’d claimed her, he had no plans on leaving.
Not that he planned on joining her Scooby gang. Far from it. He was evil. The
Big Bad. But, if the Slayer seemed to be in a pinch while out patrolling…
Well, as his property, it was his responsibility to look out for her welfare.