It's wrong.
Even as her body clenches, her hips rise, her fingernails dig into cool, dry flesh, she knows.
This was never meant to be.
A gasp escapes her parted lips and her body arches. Pleasure floods her veins, her eyes cross with need, and she surrenders to the moment of intimate bliss, driving away all thought.
He's on top of her, moving quickly, unable to contain himself, to restrain himself, to slow down and love her as he always dreamed. The demon inside him demands release.
The man inside him demands the same.
Her touch is bliss, her body afire with longing, burning him to the core. His control is long shattered. He pounds into her, but even though his thoughts are scattered to the four winds, he knows he's not hurting her.
She's moving with him, meeting each thrust of his pelvis with one of her own.
Her legs are around his hips, her heels drumming against him, forcing the pace to remain fast and hard and deep.
So deep.
She's so small, yet her body was made for his, able to take him all without a wince of pain. Her inner muscles are driving him mad as they squeeze and squeeze.
Make me pop, luv, he thinks, teeth gritted from strain, muscles tense as he hovers above her watching the need flutter across her flushed face, her breasts heave with lust.
She is finally his, and it is better than every wet dream he has had of her.
If he has one regret it is that he wished he could love her slowly, gently, giving her the tender passion that one so young, so...human should have. But, there's no way...
Her body is in control. Her mind acknowledges that this act is wrong, but her body is in control, and her body needs this so badly. Needs release, ecstasy, orgasm, even for a moment. She needs to forget, even for a moment.
He always helps her forget.
It had seemed logical to take this step. From talking, and drinking, and fighting side by side, to this. To sharing his bed. She knew it's what he wanted. He'd sang to her to stay away unless she was ready for more...for this collision of bodies and lust.
And she'd been so sure it would never happen.
But, he'd given so much to her, he'd protected her sister, he'd become...almost human for her. He listened to her. He understood her.
And his touch made her tingle in a way she hadn't in years. In the way that only one of his kind could.
It was so easy to convince him. He was so stunned, yet so grateful. His kiss had been...sweet, loving.
And then they'd been on the bed, hands stripping away clothes, mouths nipping and twisting and clashing together, as mindless passion had overtaken them both. Her body had been ready for his, hot and wet and swollen with need, and his...his was always ready for her.
The moment of joining had been perfect. They'd cried out, clutching at each other, as their bodies fit together as if made for the other. And they'd moved as one, both spinning out of control almost immediately, driven by a hunger for each other.
But, she knows it's wrong.
Deep inside herself, where the old Buffy still exists, she knows that giving herself to a demon is wrong.
But, the old Buffy is dying a swift death beneath the pounding of his body into hers, the hot, wet pleasure building in her driving away all thoughts, all concerns. She clutches his shoulders, lifting her head to bury her mouth in his throat. Her teeth scrape his carotid artery, and she smiles as he howls.
She knows just what pleases the demon in him. And she doesn't care that it's wrong for her to have that knowledge.
He gasps and thrusts wildly, the dull teeth nipping at his cold flesh driving him over the edge. The change comes over him, uncontrollable as so much is out of his control, and he kisses her hard. His fangs break the skin of her inner lips and her blood trickles into his mouth.
And she bucks beneath him, keening into the kiss, climaxing as the monster above her sips at her blood and grinds the base of his cock against her clit.
Lifting his head, Spike stares down at her through golden eyes, noting the pleasure suffusing her skin, the lax smile on her face. Her inner muscles continue to grip him, and he takes her hips in his hands, lifting her so that he can plunge deeper, deeper, to her core.
With another animalistic howl, a howl not remotely human, he comes and collapses limply on top of her, great shudders rolling through him.
Shivering with pleasure, Buffy weakly raises one hand and caresses the ridges of his forehead as he licks roughly at the sweat pooling along her collar bone.
He's never felt better in his entire unlife, but...
"It's wrong," he murmurs, knowing it to be true, knowing that she shouldn't be there, beneath him, their bodies still joined.
"I know," she whispers back, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging his head down for another kiss.
He tastes her blood still seeping, and groans helplessly as desire flares anew and his cock hardens inside its fiery prison.
"I don't care," she continues, her legs lifting around his hips, her body beginning to burn again.
The End