by Spikesdeb

Chapter 1

W and G flopped on the sofa in her office, faces drawn with fatigue; Giles’ grizzled stubble vied with W’s flaming bird’s nest hair in the new look awards.  The sofa creaked as W tried to reach over to the desk without getting up, it was tantalisingly close, “Bugger!  Stupid bloody packet…” she muttered under her breath. 

She slid to the floor and leant forward to grab the packet of cheroots from the polished surface and scooted backwards to rest against the couch.  She glanced wearily up at G. 

“That’s it -- I’m officially numb.” 

G chuckled.  “I know what you mean.  I should really call in at the lab; no doubt that idiot Travers has blown up half of my experiments in my absence.  But I just can’t…” The two settled back in comfortable silence, their minds processing the details of the successful mission they’d just completed.   

Following the early curtailment of the wedding festivities, the five members of MI13 had helicoptered straight to the airbase and boarded the jet recently employed in the rescue of 00666.  The team’s kit had been stowed and the mission parameters were hot off the press and already awaiting them on the conference table.  It had been instantly sobering; a demon cult had kidnapped a five-month-old child to serve in a ritual sacrifice for their lord and master.  It made their blood run cold; well four of them, the fifth already being room temperature.  

W and G both began speaking at once.  “Did you see…”  “What about when…” 

“Sorry, G, you first…” 

“No, I insist – you were about to say?” 

“I don’t know; I’m too tired to remember.  Don’t suppose you’ve a light on you, G?  I can’t move.”   

The boffin delved into his inside jacket pocket and retrieved a sleek silver pen, which he handed to W.  The redhead took it, looking at him like he’d gone insane.   

“Light, G – not write.” 

“I know, I know – trust me, just twist the barrel.”  At her hesitation he nodded encouragingly. 

W did as instructed, warily holding the device at arm’s length.  The barrel twisted, it clicked…the nib slid into place.  She waited for a flame. 

“G…I think it’s broken.  Look, ink – no flamey” 

“What?  Ooops, sorry…that’s my pen - must be in my other pocket.” 

“Forget it.  I’m just going to head home.   De-briefing can wait.  Need a lift?” 

“No, I’m fine.  I’ll just nip down and check on Travers.  I won’t settle unless I do.” 

Standing, he helped W to her feet.  Now that the mission was over, exhaustion was fast replacing adrenalin.  Wearily, the two trudged off; W for the garage, G moving deeper inside HQ to his beloved gadgets. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Buffy sank back into the plump, overstuffed seat of the limousine as it sped away from the airport.  She slowly drained the crystal flute of chilled champagne that had miraculously materialised in her hand, Dom Perignon Rose no less.  A sigh of happiness escaped her lips, followed by a yawn.  Her boots were tugged off and cool hands gave her feet a quick squeeze.  She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the silence. 

“Happy landings, pet?” a soft, seductive voice drawled, close to her ear.   

“Mmmm…blissful.”  She snuggled into the embrace of her husband, his cool skin raising goosebumps along her heated flesh where they touched. 

“So, what’s the story, Big Bad?   Where we headed?  You’re being all mysterious and cat got the cream.  I get that…but you’re still gonna tell me!  Spill!” 

“Shhh, Buffy.  Just relax, let’s cruise a little, loosen up some kinks…” 

His fingers snaked up her bare arm, delighting in the ensuing hitched breath and racing pulse.  He gazed at the vision of her arched throat as she tipped her head back against the seat, eyes closed, lips parted slightly as she gasped.  She was bloody magnificent!  And she was his wife.  He’d never dreamt he’d marry, but that was before her and now, she was everything.  His fingers stilled as he drank in her perfection. 

Buffy opened one eye.  “Hey!  Tingly stroking went away…. what are you looking at?”  She smiled. 

“Well, I’ve just seen this amazing creature who goes by the name of Buffy Blond…or Buffy Bloody…still haven’t made my mind up yet.  Maybe you know her?” 

“Thought I did…but when you touch me…I lose myself…can’t control my body… urghhh…don’t stop….”

Buffy sighed with pleasure as the cool fingers continued their assault on her senses, caressing her neck and then dipping to skim the soft skin of her cleavage.  William leaned in closer to her sliding his hand inside her top and under the lacy bra.  He squeezed a nipple between finger and thumb, the skin puckering beneath his touch to a hard point.   Buffy slid further down in the seat as she lost herself in the sensations washing over her.  One hand palmed her breast, applying a sweet pressure, as he deftly unbuttoned her shirt with the other.   

“William!  What about the driver….” 

“Don’t worry, my blushing bride,” he replied huskily, his mouth close to her ear.  “The glass is darkened; he can’t see a thing…can’t hear a thing.” 

Buffy let his velvet voice soothe her and to be honest at this point, with one hand on her breast and the other dipping below her waistband; she couldn’t care less who was watching.  Anyway, it would take real willpower to resist and hers was long gone as far as he was concerned. 

She spread her legs in tacit invitation.  Spike removed his hand from her waistband, her little whimper of loss made him smirk. 

“Now, now, Mrs Blond…patience…” He gulped himself as her mouth formed a delicious pout, so ripe for licking and biting. 

Reluctantly, he relinquished her plump breast and knelt between her legs.  He paused a moment to admire the sight of her, golden hair spread out, the open shirt and her warm skin.  Buffy’s face was flushed with arousal, her eyes closed, open-mouthed as she panted short little breaths.  Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to control herself. 

Spike slid his hands slowly up the inside of her thighs, inhaling deeply till he was drowning in her scent.  His eyes flashed amber as he felt his cock chafe against the zip of his pants.  Sometimes going commando could be dangerous, especially around Buffy.  His hands met at the apex of her thighs, thumbs joining to rub at her heated mound through the fabric of her trousers.  Buffy pushed her pelvis forwards straining to ease her aching clit.   

“William…” 

He surged up her body to crush his lips to hers, hands fisting in her hair as he devoured her with his mouth.  His tongue swirled around hers as he sought more contact before he sucking it into his own cool mouth to rasp against his teeth.  Buffy’s mouth was as eager as his, her hands tight against the curls at the back of his neck as she met his fervour with her own.  She rose slightly, lacy breasts pressing into his chest as she hooked one leg round to pull him against her.  A hand swept down his back to grip his butt as she ground against his hardness. 

Buffy broke away as dark spots began to cloud her vision and drew in great gulps of air, her forehead resting against his.  “Too many clothes…” she gasped, and seized the front of his shirt tearing it open in her need to have her hands on his smooth skin.  Spike delighted in her hunger for him and quickly shrugged off the ripped shirt leaving himself bare to the waist.  Buffy reached behind to unhook her bra, her shirt slipping off her shoulders to bunch up behind her.  Blue eyes darkened as her breasts tumbled free of their captivity into his waiting hands. 

A keen of pleasure washed over him as Buffy zeroed in once again to nip at his lip, suckle his tongue.  She bit down hard enough to make it bleed, sucking the salty fluid across her lips and into her mouth.  It was too much; he lost control of the demon inside and his fangs grazed her lower lip.  He pulled back, “Oh Buff…” the words died on his lips as he watched her snake her tongue out to lick at the red droplets.  Buffy gazed at him, eyes shining as she deliberately showed him the shimmer of red as the blood pooled on her tongue before drawing it back inside her mouth to swallow it down.  

Spike growled.  God, she knew exactly what she was doing to him.  The chit was gonna pay. 

All restraint flew out the window as he lunged, crushing her back against the seat making her squeak in mock fright.  “You are so gonna pay for teasing me, my love.” 

“Not teasing…enticing…difference…” she gasped when she could break away from his mouth.  Spike growled against her throat before sliding his fangs a little way into her flesh, just enough to allow a trickle of blood to coat his lips.  Buffy fumbled with his flies, cooing with happiness as the zip gave way allowing his erection to brush against her hands.  She gripped it roughly, loving the feel of the skin as it rolled around the hard shaft.  Spike’s elongated canines bit a little deeper as she began to pump her fist up and down his length.  He shuddered as he felt his balls tighten with his imminent ejaculation.  Bloody hell!  He was like a fucking teenager having his first shag, losing control so quickly.  He withdrew his fangs from her neck, licking the puncture holes to stem the bleeding.  Buffy’s eyes were closed in ecstasy as she kept up a steady rhythm on his cock.   

“Buffy…you gotta stop, luv…stop.”  He laid one hand over hers to slow things down.  Didn’t want to shoot his load so soon, he had a reputation to live up to.  Buffy’s eyes fluttered open, puzzlement on her face.  “You don’t like it?” she questioned. 

“Like it too bloody much, kitten.  Gonna cover you in essence of Spike if you carry on.” 

“Now you’re talking,” she purred, squeezing hard.   

With a snarl, he seized her hands in one of his, forcing them back together above her head.  With his free hand he grabbed her waist and shifted her so she lay flat on the seat.  He undid her trousers, Buffy raising her hips to help him ease them down to her knees before she took over and kicked them off to flap around one ankle.  With a deft flick of his wrist he pulled her sodden panties to one side sliding his rock hard cock deep inside her with one thrust of his hips.  Buffy shook off his hold on her wrists, desperate to feel the muscles in his back as he pumped in and out of her warmth.  She raked his flesh frenziedly, legs clamped around his hips as he thrust again and again.  His face was buried in her neck, the ridges on his forehead brushing against the sensitive skin of her throat, his tongue worshipping her flesh.   

With a roar of pleasure, Buffy’s orgasm crashed over her, her nails leaving crescents in his ass as she gripped him fiercely.  The sudden pain catapulted him into orbit with her, his cock spasming as her muscles milked every last drop of his semen from him.  He slumped on top of her, panting, dead lungs dragging in un-needed air by reflex.  Buffy matched his panting with her own, until she needed more air than she could get with his weight on her.  She wriggled beneath him, but when he failed to get the hint she shoved at his shoulders.   

“Huh?  What?  Oh, sorry…sorry, sweetheart.”  He rolled off her, “…better now?” 

Buffy’s happy lips flitted about his face before settling on his mouth.  They snuggled in a tangle of limbs, discarded clothing strewn around them.  Spike caressed her cheek with a gentle finger, murmuring against her mouth of his love, their happiness, what he was going to do to her for the rest of their honeymoon.  Just then the car glided to a halt, spurring Buffy to scrabble for their clothes in an effort to be decent before the driver discovered them.  They almost made it. 

“Mr Blond, sir – we’re at the hotel.  Shall I have your bags taken up to your room?” 

Stifling her giggles, Buffy held up the remains of Spike’s shirt, trying with a shaking hand to fasten her crumpled top.   

“Yes! Yes, that would be fine…we just need a moment to ……ahem…gather our belongings…we’ll be out shortly.” 

“Of course, Mr Blond…I’ll be waiting.” 

It was obvious from the humour in the driver’s voice that he knew exactly what had been going on behind the courtesy screen.  If nothing else, there was no soundproofing on earth capable of muffling Buffy’s orgasmic screams.  Buffy blushed in horror, realising they’d done it again; first the Bronze, now in a car…bloody hell!  She was turning into some kind of exhibitionist nympho-hussy…British swearing too.  That’d teach her to marry a hunk of British undead sex god.  ‘Heeeee’ 

Spike just quirked an eyebrow and flashed the Blond smirk that infuriated and titillated her in equal parts.  He knew what she was thinking, and it thrilled him to realise that deep down it turned her on as much as it did him.  The look of horror on her face faded as she began to giggle, reaching for him to steal one more kiss before they left the cocoon of the limo. 

As they reached the threshold of the hotel, Spike scooped Buffy up into his arms, ignoring her squeals.  He paused in the doorway, looking down on her beaming features before placing a feather light kiss on her lips.   

“Welcome to married life, Mrs Blond.”  He swept her into the hotel and up the stairs to their room. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

“Harris.  You need to file your report in the next hour.  I’ve already received Blond’s, or should that be Blonds’…. ha!  Never mind.  G’s filed his and mine is about done.  I need to collate things and report back to London.” 

“No problem, W.  I’ll bring it through as soon as I can.”   

W clicked off the intercom and leaned back in her chair.  She swung her feet up to rest on the desk, still knackered from her forays into the field.  She’d collapsed last night after leaving G to his gadgets and heading home.  Lord knows what state he’d be in today.  Closing her eyes as she rested back, she recalled the sheer mayhem that’d been the last month or so.  There’d been hell to pay of course after Blond’s rescue, and she’d taken the reprimand from her superiors like a good puppy.  But if she had to do it all again, she’d do exactly the same thing.  She’d come alive on the trek through the jungle, the back of her neck prickling as she imagined assassins behind every tree.  She was a young woman but sometimes her job made her feel older than her years.  Physically tired as she was from the unaccustomed fieldwork, mentally she was buzzing.  She leaned forwards, snagging a cheroot and took a long drag.  Funny, she hadn’t craved a smoke in the jungle.  Who’d have thought danger satisfied her crave-ometer as much as nicotine?  

Then there was the excitement of the wedding…and the unforgettable trip there with Tara.  Mmmm …W closed her eyes again as she recalled the soft, yielding body of her secret amorata spread out languidly on grey silk sheets.  She shivered as she anticipated further assignations with her vampire lover.   

Her remembrances were cut short as thoughts of Prague took over.  It had been brutal.  At first, the five of them on the jet, going over the mission – it had felt good, like a rerun of “Rescue Blond”.  However, as they read the mission parameters it soon became apparent that it would be gruesome, and far more disturbing   

It appeared that a five-month-old baby had been snatched from the arms of her nanny as they’d walked in the park.  Generally, this would be a police matter but the baby was the daughter of a high-ranking British civil servant and the kidnap wasn’t random.  There’d been no ransom demand, just an announcement that the baby had been selected to bring forth the “day of blood and torment” that would redesign the world.  MI13 was immediately drafted in to investigate and send in a hit squad. 

Demon Research, headed by an old buddy of G’s, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, quickly identified the “day” as being linked to a demon-worshipping cult with roots in Austria.  The demon in question, Weisswurst, was centuries old and something of an oddball.  He was known as “Mr Kiss Kiss Gang Bang” in the trade, a cruel jest that went right over his head.  He was so grotesquely hideous that the only way he’d get any kiss or bang would be by drug-induced coma of the lucky mate. He’d been so flattered by the pseudonym he adopted it.  He was obese and warty, accentuating his assets in lederhosen that would be quite fetching on some muscular thigh-slapper, but absolutely disgusting on his wobbling flesh.  And he reeked: his body odour was reputed to reduce strong men to tears.  Yet despite all this the beast thought he was irresistible; he purred, he preened, and he sang Barry White.   

The baby was to be the focal point of a rite that would render Mr Kiss a master of mind control, able to exert untold influence over anyone, human or otherwise, that took his fancy.  As the demon wasn’t getting any, it had become an obsession with him – that and the world domination plan.  W shuddered as her mind gave her a sneak preview of what that might mean.  Ugh! 

She welcomed the distraction of Xander Harris as he bounced into the room with his report.  W beamed at him, offering him a drink.  The one-eyed agent was thrown – usually W grabbed the file and threw him out.  Still, never one to turn down a free drink, he took a seat and waited for her cue.    

“How did it go with the baby, Harris?” 

“All loved up and cuddled with mommy.  Got to say, W, that cult freaked me out.  Was he hideous or what?  Way beyond unattractive.  And deluded?  Man, he must have the most warped mirrors in the world.  And when he turned on the charm?  Yeesh - it’ll be a while before I can look a frosted donut in the eye again.” 

Harris gulped, trying to hold on to his dinner.  W nodded, unable to respond as they both relived the horror of the last few days. 

“Still, at least it’s over now.  How about Buffy and Blond?  You heard from them, W?” 

“Erm…yes.  They sent their report with a very strongly worded note.  I was told not to bother trying to contact them as they didn’t want any interruptions; it is their honeymoon after all.” 

“Yep; guess so.  Wouldn’t want to be the one to knock on that door.” 

They both chuckled, visions of shredded bellboys lightening the mood somewhat as they sipped at their drinks.   

“Still – wonder what they’re up to….”

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