Darkness



Written by: Ariane
Author's Website

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Summary: The stories they tell each other in the dark. Post S7's 'Storyteller'.
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
Feedback: ariane_five@yahoo.com

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Spike lounged against the kitchen counter watching Andrew unpack a bag of groceries.

“Hope you got the good stuff this time. I need it real fresh if I’m gonna keep up with the Slayer’s demands.”

Andrew got a dreamy look on his face and gave a long sigh. “Demands?” he asked.

“That’s right. For hours on end. Every night, ‘till my whole body is bleeding and bruised.”

“Hours?” Andrew choked. “Bruises?”  His face turned a brilliant shade of red. “Buffy is so cool. You’re so lucky.”

“Luck’s got nothin’ to do with it. She’s a hard master, and I’m her bleeding slave.” He stuck his hand in the grocery bag and brought out a small white box marked with the letters ‘A B C’. He shook the box. It rattled.

“What’s this? Little snack for the girls?”

Andrew grabbed the box and hid it behind his back. “No. It’s a little present for Buffy. Well…” he stammered, “It’s for command central. To go with the Big Board. Kind of a secret communication device.”

“Gonna teach the little girls to read?” Spike smirked.

“You’ll see. Just wait.” Andrew pulled a bag of fresh blood from the shopping bag and tossed it to Spike. “Breakfast is served. Anyway, would you please wash up after yourself? Do you know how hard it is to get dried blood off of the microwave? I’m cooking a special dinner tonight. Don’t you think Principal Wood is so cool? Did you see his shoes? Italian.”

Spike merely humphed his displeasure at the mention of Wood. He reached into the cupboard and took out a large ceramic mug with a picture of Darth Vader splashed in vivid detail around the circumference.

“Nooo!” Andrew yelped, snatching the mug from Spike’s hand and shoving it back in the cupboard. “Here, use this one.” He handed him one emblazoned with “I ‘heart’ New Kids On The Block.”

Spike held up the mug and examined it with disgust. “Bet this is her mug. Matches that god awful poster in her bedroom. Will the girl never grow up?”


* * * * *


“Andrrreeeew!” Buffy yelled.

She stood in front of the refrigerator with the door open, a look of displeasure on her face. Though it was still early spring, the day had been blazing hot and even now, after sunset, the temperature was still in the nineties. Buffy wore a pair of shorts and an old tank top. The freezing wave of air wafting from the open door sent a shiver of cool pleasure through her.  Andrew hurried in from the dining room where he’d been setting the table for dinner.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep Spike’s blood in the old refrigerator down in the basement? It scares the new girls.”

“But he said it doesn’t keep it cold enough. He keeps bringing it back upstairs.”

Andrew stood beside her and peered glumly into the top shelf of the refrigerator which was lined with containers of blood.

“Spiiiiike! Get your butt up here, now!” Buffy yelled.

A few minutes later, half dressed and fumbling with the zipper on his pants, Spike stumbled into the kitchen. “Damn, Buffy. What is it? Can’t you let a poor soul get his beauty sleep?”

She sniffed, her eyes resting on the pale skin of his lower abdomen as he struggled with his zipper. She caught a brief glimpse of the tip of his erection, which he was struggling to push aside in order to fasten his pants.

“What is it now?” Spike complained loudly, following her eyes. “What do you want, Buffy?” he said in a softer voice.

Disconcerted by the sight of his arousal, she found herself unable to speak. More shivers ran through her, this time from between her thighs. All tingling and hot.

“Buffy says you have to keep the blood downstairs!” Andrew piped up.

“Buffy says. Buffy says. Getting a bit tired of all these orders,” Spike said.

Catching the look of obvious sexual hunger in her eyes, he scooted next to her, pretending to look in the refrigerator. He rubbed himself briefly against her bare thigh and casually placed his hand upon her back. Slipping a few cool fingers down her shorts, he massaged the soft silky flesh.

“So,” he said slowly, “What’s it gonna be, Buffy?” He tilted his face against her temple, pressing his tongue softly into her ear as he spoke her name.

Buffy gave a little whimper and shifted up onto her toes. Spike’s fingers slid down past the crevice of her ass, encountering the wet heat he knew he’d find.

“Could you do that someplace else? ‘Cause I have a dinner to cook,” Andrew complained, reminding them that someone else was in the room.

They pulled apart and stared at each other.

“Patrol. Now.” Buffy said breathlessly.

“Right. Be back in a second. Gotta get my boots.”

Spike and Buffy rushed out of the kitchen.

“What about all this blood? There won’t be any room for my chocolate mousse!” Andrew shouted at them. “Do I have to do everything around here?”

They didn’t hear him.



* * * * *


“So what part of your Big Bad do you want to do tonight, love?”

Buffy was stretched on her back on the grass in a hidden corner of the Sunnydale Memorial Cemetery. With his head propped up on one hand, Spike lay on his side next to her, his other hand resting lightly on her stomach. She arched her back, shivering at his touch as his fingers slipped beneath her tank top and inched up over her breast, teasing the sensitive nipple.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she reached down and hooked her fingers into the waist of her shorts and wiggled out of them. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. He watched her with amusement.

“A little hot, are we?” he said in a husky voice.

“Tongue,” she commanded, and spread her knees apart, displaying her beautiful ripeness for him to admire.

Still lying beside her, he slid his hand down her stomach, his fingers gently searching for the plump flesh hidden in the cleft beneath her curls. She was dripping wet. He stroked his finger across her erect clit and teasingly played with the swollen lips.

“Oh, tongue. Please,” she moaned. “Now.”

He scooted down and lay on his stomach between her legs, resting his cheek on one of her thighs. Entranced by the succulent sight before him, he took a deep breath, and whispered, “Such a lovely, lovely pussy. You smell nice and nasty.” 

She could feel his breath against her sensitive skin. The sound of his low voice made her tremble. Arching her hips in response, she released a slow flood of slick, musky juice. He watched entranced as coated the tender skin beneath the engorged lips. 

“It hurts,” she groaned. “Oh, please,” she begged, wiggling beneath him, aching for him to touch her again.

“Hard for me, aren’t you, Slayer? All stiff and swollen and wet for me?”

“Um...ah…” she babbled. She tried to grab onto his hair and push his face where she needed it. He ducked and clasped her wrist.

“Need my tongue bad, don’t ya? Need some long, sweet licks from your dangerous man. Right?”

She raised her head up and caught his eyes. “I swear I’m gonna stake you!”

“Can I keep my blood upstairs?”

“Whaaa?” she gasped. “Are you insane?”

“Not anymore. So?”

“Oh, for God’s sake! Yes. Yes!”

“Thanks,” he said, shifting his head until his lips were nestled snugly over her clit.

He gave a deep sigh and began to lick her with long, sure strokes, pausing now and then to murmur ‘delicious’ and ‘so sweet’ and ‘may I?’. This last question he asked just before plunging his tongue deep inside her, swirling it about until she screamed and came hard against his face, drenching him with another sweet flood.

He gave her a few seconds to rest, and then he started licking again, delicately lapping her sensitive clit which still throbbed beneath his tongue from her last orgasm.

She panted and undulated beneath him as he pleasured her. He clasped her calves, pushing her thighs back until she was bent double. Spread her wide open, so that he might explore all her secret, erotic places with his tongue. He loved hearing her moaning and whimpering with pleasure like this. She was made to be loved. Made to be loved by his tongue and his cock. His cock.

He suddenly released her legs and crawled to his knees. Had to get his jeans off now and plunge his cock into all that lovely, wet heat.

“Don’t stop…I need your…” she gasped, opening her eyes to see him struggling out of his pants and shirt.

His cock sprung free, thick and hard. The tip was red and swollen and glistened with pre-cum.

“Cock,” she sighed happily and spread her legs again to welcome him inside her.

She slid her hand down between her thighs, gently pushing apart the slick lips so that he wouldn’t miss his mark. “Right here.”

“Don’t worry, love,” he laughed. "I could find my way to your little bit o’ paradise even if the whole world was plunged into utter darkness.

He fell across her, pinning her body into the soft grass, and sheathing himself inside her with short, fierce thrusts. He tilted his hips and pulled out slowly, grazing the top of her tight passage with the tip of his cock. And then he plunged back inside her, reveling in the sensation of the throbbing, soft wetness clenching around him.

This was his recipe for danger. Thrust and parry. Ravish the girl until she can’t walk. Make her come until she’s just a limp mass of quivering, begging flesh. Mark her so she’ll never forget who she belongs to. Who she needs. Never let her forget who’s been waiting in the dark, longing, needing her all these years.

“Who do you love?” he cried as he pounded her into the grass, pushing her over the edge into yet another orgasm. He followed up his cry with a series of quick, short grunts as he poured his cum inside her.

How many was that? he wondered wildly, collapsing over her.  Four? Six? Ten? 

“Love you. You…” she murmured over and over, as she held him tightly against her breast.

Still hard, he slid back and forth gently inside her, reluctant to lose contact. “It’s me you love, inna it? It’s me.”

“Yes, yes. It’s you.”

She kissed him then, long and slow, and they both fell into a drowsy, sated state.


* * * * *


They took a little catnap.

He dreamed she was sucking his cock in the middle of the kitchen back at Revello Drive. Andrew was videotaping the whole scene, and everyone else was standing around watching and making encouraging comments, like "don’t you think you can take him in deeper?”  Those sweet Slayer lips wrapped around him, slipping up and down his cock with delicious frenzy. 

Why am I not embarrassed? he thought. ‘Cause I’m in Heaven, that’s why. This must be Heaven. Gotta get that tape from Andrew.

He unconsciously started moving his hips, rocking inside her in real life in slow rhythm with his dream, but he was painfully jerked out of his blissful state when she yelled in his ear.

“Wood!” she cried.

“Now that hurts,” he said, pulling out of her and rolling over on his back. He rubbed his ear.

“He’s coming for dinner."

“So what’s the problem? He can chat up the little girls and give Andrew some pointers on the fine art of dressing,” he said grouchily. “He won’t miss us.”

“What will he think?”

“You know, Buffy. I could care less. The man’s a slick player. Don’t trust him.” He stood up and searched around for his pants.

“Where’re you going?” she asked, reaching out her hand for him. “Come back.”

He ignored her hand.

“Going back. So you can have a cozy, little chat with your boss.”


* * * * *


When they reached the front door, he made her put on his leather duster.

“You’ve got grass stains all over the back of your shirt, love. They’re gonna think…”

“What? I let the vampire screw me senseless in a graveyard?”

“You asked me, if you remember,” he growled. “I was taking a nap.”

They stepped inside the house and tried to sneak upstairs to wash up. Just as they reached the first landing, Giles and Principal Wood came out of the dining room.

“Where’ve you two been?” Giles asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“Patrolling,” they both said in unison.

“Why are you wearing Spike’s coat, Buffy?” Wood asked.

“Hot. I mean cold. Very cold,” she replied quickly. Her face was covered with sweat.

Principal Wood fixed Spike with a hard stare. “You know, you really should make sure she dresses appropriately for the fight.”

Spike lunged forward, but Buffy grabbed his arm and yanked him back against her.

“She makes her own choices. I’m not her bleeding valet.” Spike hissed. He jerked his arm out of Buffy’s hand and stomped up the stairs to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.


* * * * *


The next morning, Buffy stumbled into the kitchen wearing a thin nightgown. She was ravenously hungry and hadn’t bothered to get dressed. Why were her legs so sore? she wondered. It’s his fault, she thought. All that extraneous exercise.

She felt a flush between her thighs as she remembered exactly what he’d done with her last night.  And now he was mad at her. Hadn’t spoken a word to her after they’d come back from patrol, and she’d prevented him from thrashing the Principal.

The kitchen was packed with Potentials gathered around the refrigerator door, listening intently as Andrew explained his new, secret communication device.

“Where’s Spike?” Buffy asked. No one responded.

Andrew stuck a small, flat piece of white plastic onto the refrigerator door. “See? They’re magnetic. That means they’ll stick to the door like this. You can leave secret messages, and no one will know who they’re from, especially the First. Anyway, I don’t think the First can read. And look. Some of them are blank so you can put your own special words on them.”  He pointed to the middle of the door.

The Potentials crowded closer, gazing at the door. Buffy pushed them aside to see what they were looking at. The refrigerator door was covered with small strips of plastic stamped with hundreds of different words and letters.

“What the hell is this?” she demanded. She read the sentence that Andrew had formed in the middle of the door.

Buffy loves Spike

“You are so close to being tied up again,” she said to Andrew. She pushed the little tag with Spike’s name away and searched for the word that popped into her mind. She found two small strips -- ‘fast’ and ‘break’. She rearranged them and stood back to admire her work. “That’s better.”

“Buffy loves breakfast,” she read. She turned to Andrew. “And Buffy needs breakfast, now.”

She opened the refrigerator door at grimaced at the sight of Spike’s blood. “Oh, ewww! I just can’t take this in the morning.” She shut the door and pensively traced her fingers over the strips of plastic. She frowned and moved her fingers in a searching motion quickly over the door's surface.

“That’s it,” she said out loud with satisfaction. And then she left the kitchen to search for Spike.


* * * * *


Spike opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a container of blood. He didn’t bother with a mug; just drank it straight from the container. Andrew was at the kitchen sink washing up a huge pile of dishes.

“This is like hell or something,” Andrew complained. “How long am I going to be punished?”

Spike put the blood back and closed the door. “What’s all this?” he asked, looking at the door. “Who stole my underwear? I think Andrew is cute. Why does Buffy hate me?” He laughed at the last message. “Right. Stand in line for that one.” He craned his neck to see a message someone had formed at the top right of the door.

10 pm same place

He turned to Andrew. “This what was in that little box of yours?” he asked.

“Yes. And the girls just love it!” Andrew gushed.

“Who put this up here?” Spike asked, pointing to the top of the refrigerator.

“Hmm. Not sure, I think…It must have been Buffy. She was fiddling around there before she went out.”

Spike grinned. “Thanks. I owe you one.” He picked up one of the white slips and placed it at the end of her message.


* * * * *


“No?” Buffy spoke out loud as she stared at the refrigerator door.

It was 9 pm, and the kitchen was empty. All the Potentials had gone with the other Scoobies and Andrew over to Xander’s apartment for an all night video marathon. Giles had gone off looking for yet another Potential, and Spike had been missing in action all day.

“This is not of the good!”

Trying not to panic, she decided to give the house one last, thorough sweep. She found him curled up, fast asleep on top of one of her bathrobes on the floor of her closet. He was naked, and in his hand, pressed tightly against his lips, he clutched a small strip of black silk. Her panties? She knelt down on the floor and watched him sleep. How can anyone look that innocent? she thought. And beautiful. She stretched out her fingers to touch his face. She gave a little scream as he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the closet with him.

“Ssssh,” he whispered as she tried to squirm out of his arms. She let her body go limp as he tightened his grip around her waist. He shifted her legs and kicked the closet door shut with his foot. They were plunged into utter darkness.

“What are you doing in my closet?” she asked in a whisper.

“Trying to get a bit of undisturbed sleep, s’all,” he said, as he buried his face against her neck. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Have you been cooking? You smell like cinnamon.” He licked the back of her neck and trailed his tongue in the soft cleft behind her ear. “Nice, fluffy cinnamon bun, Buffy. I could eat you up.” He bit her ear and she squealed. She felt something long and hard press against the bare skin of her thigh. She shivered with pleasure and not a little relief.

“Yummy cereal for dinner, again. And you are not to eat the Slayer!” she giggled. “And what was with the ‘No’?

“Getting tired of cleaning the grass stains off you every time we want to be together. I’m not really nature boy, you know.”

“Oh God, I thought you were mad at me and disappeared, leaving me alone with this whole mess.”

“Not gonna leave you alone anymore,” he said quietly, pulling her closer, molding her intimately against his body. “I’m done with subtle, Buffy. I’m your man now. In front of the whole, bleeding world and your poof of a boss. I’m you’re dangerous man.”

He slid his hand down her stomach, unzipped her shorts and with a quick tug pulled them down to her knees. She wriggled her legs free from her shorts, and he slipped his hands under her tank top and pulled it over her head. She lay back against him, panting shallowly, more from excitement than from the exertion of undressing.

“You’re naked in the dark with a dangerous man.” He mouthed the words slowly against her skin. He bared his teeth and bit down softly on the nape of her neck. “Gonna devour you, Summers. Are you afraid?”

“Not afraid of the dark,” she said, arching her back, and rubbing her buttocks slowly against him. “It’s my natural habitat. Vamps. Darkness. Biting.” She shivered in his arms, her body betraying her brave words. “And Stakes.” She raised her knee and moaned with pleasure as his thick cock slid between her thighs. “Slayers love stakes.”

“We'll see about that. Not so partial to stakes, but I do love to swim. In you.” He pumped against her gently, his cock blindly seeking the comfort of her inner heat.

“Lost?” she whispered breathlessly, lifting her leg a little more to accommodate him.

He thrust inside her and gave her several deep strokes. “Never.” He grunted, sheathing himself inside her to the hilt.

She clamped her thighs together, capturing him inside her. “All mine,” she moaned.

And then he was truly lost. In her darkness.  Lost inside her… drowning, plunging ferociously into her soft heat.

An hour later, their passionate interlude was rudely interrupted by a loud, whining voice calling from outside the bedroom door.

“Buffy! Spike! I know you’re in there! I heard you shouting all the way downstairs!”

They heard the bedroom door open and the sound of footsteps as Andrew entered the room.

“Are you guys working out? I could really use a good clip of you two fighting. I see special effects…some smoke. Yeah… or flashing lights, maybe a soft, orange filter to give Spike a little color. Spike could vamp out and be shirtless, of course. It would be totally awesome. And romantic. I see Buffy in a flowing, gossamer…”

“Can’t you shut him up?” Spike whispered desperately to Buffy. He’d been on the verge of another beautiful orgasm and wasn’t feeling amenable to conversation with the boy. In fact, he was having a dark, little fantasy about breaking Andrew’s neck.

“We’re busy,” Buffy shouted through the closet door. “Go away.”

“What are you guys doing in there?” Andrew’s voice was just outside the closet door. “Is the First in there with you?”

“No!”

“Then why were you screaming?”

“We’re cleaning the closet. Big mess. Very scary mess. Go away.”

“Right, he’s gonna believe that,” Spike groaned.

They both listened with horror as the doorknob began to turn.

“If you open that door, I’m gonna kill you. With my bare hands,” Buffy shouted again.

“Bare hands? Really? Maybe I could…”

“Get out! Get out! Get out!”

“Gee, you guys are no fun. I’m going back to Xander’s. They’re showing ‘Bring It On’ next. And Buffy, you’re really starting to sound like Dawn.”

“Hey, that’s one of my favorite…” Spike started to get up, but Buffy shoved him back down.

“You’re not going anywhere, mister,” she said.

They heard the bedroom door shut and then the sound of Andrew’s footsteps as he stomped down the stairs.

They waited a few minutes, and then both gave a sigh of relief when they heard the front door slam.

“Okay, Miss Summers,” Spike growled. “Where were we? Wasn’t I just about to rearrange your shoes?"

“Rearrange this, vampire,” she murmured, shoving a nipple into his mouth to silence him. Sucking hungrily on her breast, he surged back to life and began concentrating on rearranging another part of her anatomy.


* * * * *

At three a.m., Buffy stumbled out of her closet and went down to the kitchen to get a snack and get Spike some blood. Absently reaching out to open the refrigerator door, she froze. Three white magnetic strips were arranged in the middle of the door.

Buffy loves Spike

"Andrew, you little worm," she muttered to herself, and then smiled.

This time she left the words in place.


THE END


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