Why should there be?

We are mortal enemies. She's the Slayer; I'm a demon. We're meant to fight to the death, to beat and rend and kill each other. The desire to kill the other is imprinted in our bodies and brains.

Mortal enemies. This is what we are to each other, what we have to be.

So, why is she lying naked in my bed beneath me, hips squirming, slick calves wrapped around my waist, breasts heaving against my chest, head thrown back on the pillow? Why is she fucking me back with such intensity my eyes are rolling in my skull?

With a hoarse cry she climaxes, shuddering beneath me, her inner muscles squeezing my cock until I want to cry out as well.

As I continue to pump relentlessly, driving into her tight inferno, I watch tears of pleasure leak from her wide open eyes.

And I bend and brush my lips over hers.

When I lift my head, I see that her eyes have clouded over, passion sliding away into confusion.

I look away, not wanting to see the despair that shines in her hazel depths all too often. Burying my face in her shoulder, I slam into her a final time, coming in harsh bursts and crying out into her heated skin.

As I collapse to the side, she's up and out of the bed before I can stop her. Turning onto my side I watch through hooded eyes as she pulls her clothes over her trembling body, trying to hide her flushed, pleasured flesh from me.

A pang of loss goes through me and I try to ignore it. This is how it is, how it always is. She comes to me, she fucks me, she leaves me.

And I never try to stop her.

How could I? What could I say that would make her stay, that would make her accept that she enjoys herself in my bed?

If I tell her I love her will she laugh in my face? Stake me? Run out in tears and never come back?

She won't fall into my arms and declare her undying love. I'm not that much of a delusional fool.

But, how can I let her just leave again? How can I stop her from ripping out my heart and stomping on it...again?

I can be mean.

"Leaving without a goodbye and thanks for the fuck?"

She looks at me then, from tortured, guilt-filled eyes, and I feel that pang again.

"What do you want, Spike?" she finally asks, her voice weary and sad.

I turn the question back on her. "What do you want, Slayer? Why keep coming back here, letting me stick it to you, when it obviously sickens you so much."

She pales and her lips tighten, but she doesn't answer. I rise from the bed, unconcerned about my nudity, and stride across the hard stone floor towards her.

I'm not surprised when she backs up.

Her nostrils flare and her little hands clench into fists, but she doesn't say anything, just retreats until she runs into the wall.

I'm on her in an instant, pressing her into the unyielding stone, my hands catching hers and dragging them up and to the side. She turns her head, but I catch a glimpse of her teeth biting into her lower lip before I bury my mouth in her throat.

I can feel the blood pulsing hot and quick beneath her skin. A moan breaks from me, and I want to bite her so badly, but I can't. Instead, I lick and suck, bruising her with my lips, staking my claim as best I can.

Knowing it will never be enough.

"Let me go," she hisses into my ear, her hands straining to pull free from my grip.

Sliding my lips up to her ear, I tug on the lobe and whisper, "Make me."

She pushes against my hands, and I press back, my entire body shoved hard against her. Her heart pounds against my chest and I hear her gasping for air as she squirms and fights me.

But, I'm not hurting her. I know I'm not.

There's no pain in my head.

I pull back just a little, enough to let her breathe, and skim my mouth over her chest. I can feel the heat from her flushed skin burning my lips. Beneath the thin blouse, I feel her nipple pebble against my cheek. The scent of her arousal fills the air and my cock springs to life, butting hard against her lower stomach.

My mouth slides lower, into her perspiration slick cleavage, my nose nuzzling aside the cotton covering her breasts, my teeth nipping at her soft curves.

"Not again," she whispers, as her hips grind against mine.

"Then stop coming here," I mutter against her breast before wrapping my lips around one cotton covered nipple and sucking hard.

"Ohhhhhhhh goddddd..."

Her hips buck against mine and her back arches as I feast on one nipple and then the next, back and forth until the front of her shirt is sheer from my saliva.

Glancing up, I see that her eyes are closed, and her head rolls back and forth on the stone. She's panting lightly from between slack lips, and her pelvis is rocking against mine, sending my cock gliding along the tight crotch of her jeans.

I release her hands. At this point, I don't care if she fights me. I just need to get her back out of her clothes as fast as possible. She hadn't put her boots back on yet, so I'm able to pull her shirt over her head and her jeans and knickers down to her ankles before she can really react.

Naked, she's gorgeous, her skin flushed and pink, her nipples full and a dark rose in color. There are freckles on her stomach, just above the soft, light brown thatch of hair between her thighs. The curls are damp and, as she steps out of her clothes, I can see her dew on her inner thighs.

As I slip one hand into that velvet heat, I feel her arms wrap around my neck, her hands guiding my head to her breast.

I guess she's decided to stay after all...

But, I have to twist the knife.

"Do you want me, Buffy?" I place a hard kiss on one nipple and she arches into me, her body spasming, sending moisture streaming over my teasing fingers.

"Please..."

"Do you want me to fuck you, luv? Do you want to ride my cock until we both pop? Do you want my hands on you, my mouth on you, my body in you?" With each sentence I nip at her tender flesh, making her quiver.

"Nyahhh..."

"Was that a no?" I ask, perversely, my fingers brushing harder and harder over her swollen clit.

"I hate you," she yells, her fingers digging into my hair, pressing my mouth over her nipple.

"Uh huh."

Her other hand moves between us and wraps around the head of my cock. The smile leaves my face and I swallow hard as lust slams through me. I thought I was in control, but one little touch of her hot fingers and I'm about to come all over her.

She always does this. One touch and I nearly pop. I don't know if it's the heat of her mortal flesh, the gentleness of her touch, the scrape of her fingernails, or if it's just because it's her, but one touch is too much for me.

Growling deep in my throat, I grab her around the hips and lift her, once again pressing her into the wall. My lips are still suckling at her nipple, her hand is still holding my head to her breast, but her other one is guiding my cock inside her.

"Fuck me," she mutters, an angry sound of need exploding from her.

Mindlessly, I drive inside her and her legs wrap around my hips so that only my body and the wall are supporting her. I thrust hard, driving to her core, jolting us both. She grunts with each slam of my pelvis against hers, and squeezes her vaginal muscles rhythmically, milking my cock deeper and deeper inside her.

Lifting my head, I stare down into her angry, lust-filled eyes for a moment, before they close and a soft keen spills from her lips. Her hands are on my shoulders, her fingernails digging into my skin, as she moves with me, using her Slayer enhanced muscles to fuck me back as hard as I'm fucking her.

She's keening louder, her breath gasping from her, her body shuddering against mine, as her passion grows. Her hands move faster, up and down my back, leaving long, red furrows as she claws me.

The pain makes me thrust faster until I'm slamming her into the wall, growling and grunting with the force of each thrust, my body molten with need. I can feel my orgasm approaching on a rush and I'm helpless to stop it. With a loud, harsh cry, I thrust madly into her, exploding in ecstasy.

As I lower her and stagger back, my whole body shaking from the powerful release, I watch her sink back against the wall, panting for air. Her thighs quiver and her breasts rise and fall at a rapid pace. She moans softly, wrapping her arms around her waist as if to hold in further sounds.

Dropping to my knees in front of her, I bury my face between her legs, my tongue lapping at her swollen flesh, as I taste our mixed secretions. She cries out, a high, stilted sound, and bucks against my mouth, as my tongue circles her heated clit. Her fingers dig into my hair, her nails gouging my scalp, as she loses control and climaxes in hard jerks of her hips.

Pulling back from her inflamed clit, I lick her swollen nether lips, nuzzle the wet curls, and bring her down gently. Exhausted, she sinks to the floor, collapsing against me.

"It's cold down here, pet. Come back to bed with me," I murmur after a few minutes of holding each other. Standing, I pull her with me. She sinks against my side, her face burrowing into my shoulder. I feel hot tears slide over my skin, but I take her lack of response as a positive and guide her towards the comfort of the bed.

As I lay her down, she curls into a ball, her whole body shaking. I frown, feeling a concern I don't want to feel, and kneel beside her, hesitantly touching her shoulder.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she sobs, burying her face in the pillow.

And now she's crying. I run a hand through my hair and try not to growl. I hate it when girls cry. I never know what to do.

"Stop it."

I didn't mean to say that out loud.

She ignores me anyway, just weeping softly, her shoulders shaking. I let my eyes trail down her slender back to the dimple at the base of her spine. Her bottom is curvy and bears the marks of my fingers. I reach out and gently touch one.

Jerking away from my fingers, she scrambles from the bed, wiping hastily at her cheeks.

"This has got to stop."

I roll my eyes. It's not the first time she's made that pronouncement. I figure it won't be the last.

Leaning back against the headboard, I reach for my cigarettes as she again pulls on her clothes. I'm too tired to stop her this time.

And too tired to care about why she does this. Why she comes here and fucks me when she obviously doesn't want to.

Maybe I'll figure it out next time.

As she leaves, she stops at the door to look over her shoulder at me one last time. I return the look as cooly as I can. Her eyes widen, sparkling in the light of the dozens of candles, glinting with longing and fear and despair and need and...oh hell, I don't know anymore.

Flinging open the door, Buffy flees into the night, and I let her go.

Because I know she'll be back and we'll go through this all over again.

The fighting and the fucking, the anger and the tears.

We're mortal enemies. That's how it should be, after all.

How it should be.

But, not how I want it.

The End

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