Don't Look at Me
Written by: kira-nerys
Summary: What's a poor vamp to do when he's not getting any?
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
URL: http://www.kardasi.com/spikelust
Double challenge reply.
First of all it's my Secret Spike story for you, Vic. I hope you're going to
like your little Christmas present, and as soon as I found out I'd be writing
for you, I couldn't help but remember your "Wanking Spike" page. This is what
came of that inspiration. Not completely a self love story, but ... here's me
contribution if you'll have it.
BETA: Thanks to Mad-Hamlet, but I added to a
bit after his beta, so any mistakes in here are my own fault, and mine
alone.
Notes: For VicNoir! Merry Christmas!
Feedback: kardasi@kardasi.com
Spike threw off his leather duster and didn't care that it fell in a crumpled
heap on the floor.
It wasn't like him. Through the last couple of
decades the duster had been his most cherished possession; a talisman of sorts,
a memory of the sweet bliss he had felt after killing one Slayer on the train in
1977, but today that Slayer didn't seem to matter to him at all, hadn't for a
while now.
Someone else was on his mind - another Slayer - and she
wouldn't leave. Spike snarled and tried to shake off the intense arousal that
had taken control of his body. It was like a tingling in his blood, like
electricity, and he couldn't seem to get rid of it. The demon surged just
beneath the surface of his emotions. It, too, was attracted to the Slayer, and
it wasn't just the potency of her blood that called to his demon. But - Buffy
was just another cocky little broad who he shouldn't give the time of day.
But he did. He did.
He'd picked a fight with her, just for fun.
It was the next best thing after fucking her, and he'd known what would happen.
Fighting her had made him hard as steel, and an unforgiving desire that wouldn't
leave irritated his nerve-endings. It was just on the side of pleasure in its
intensity. He felt alive with the want. She was the only one who had ever
provoked that in him, and if it hadn't been for that fucking ... love ... he
would have taken her and then he would have killed her. A few months ago he
wouldn't have thought twice about it, but now ...
She'd taunted him with
words, fought him and he'd ended up on the ground, her straddling him with a
stake above his heart. It wasn't the first time she'd done that to him -
threatened to kill him that is - but it was the first time since he'd started
dreaming about her, since he'd told her the truth, and it was the first time
she'd noticed him harden beneath her. Their eyes had met and he had reached for
her, desperate for her touch.
"Bloody hell," Spike snarled to himself.
She'd seen it. The desperation.
Her eyes had widened and she'd flown off
of him as though burned - perhaps she had been. He'd felt hotter than hell.
"Spike! You are so disgusting!" she'd spat and run off. A short glimpse
of something had crossed over her face, but Spike couldn't identify the feeling
in her eyes. Her pupils widened, but was it in fear or arousal? Fear of what?
The fact that she'd noticed the intensity of his desire hadn't lessened
his enthusiasm. Not a bloody bit. Quite the contrary in fact.
"Fuck!" he
groaned. He really needed a good shag, that's what he did, but there was no
Harmony to allay his needs, and no Dru. Dru's last look of pity at him was
almost enough to turn him off, but not quite. And no Buffy, and the truth was
that she was the only one he really wanted to shag, too....
He wanted to
fuck her into the ground like a hammer on a nail.
"'Nuff with the
euphemisms, you idiot!" he muttered to himself and walked over to the sofa, a
little gingerly. That bloody thing in his pants was taking up way too much room,
pressing insistently at his fly, and it was painful.
"I'd better free
the wanker," Spike muttered and flopped down on the couch, undoing his pants.
"Ahh," he moaned.
That was good - way better than constricting
himself in his jeans. They were perfect for getting chicks to watch his arse,
and went well with the duster, but they were too bloody tight right now.
He leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes, just savouring
the sensation of being aroused. Since he didn't seem to be able to make it go
away, he wanted it to last. It had been a while since he'd been this hot, and
just because the Slayer had straddled him, rubbed her tight little behind over
his groin...
"Soddin' bitch," he moaned. But there was no real malice in
his words. They came out more ... desperate and needy.
He'd give just
about anything to have her there right now, straddling his lap, sinking down on
his hard shaft, surrounding him with her moist heat, clenching her muscles
rhythmically ...
"Oh yeah, that'd be good," he groaned, and he knew
this hard-on wouldn't just go away.
If Harmony had been there, he'd have
asked her to give him a blowjob and imagined that it was Buffy. But he was
alone.
Giving into the inevitable he grabbed himself and ran his fingers
across the underside of his shaft.
"Yeah, like that," he moaned and slid
further down in the couch, stretching his legs in front of him. "So good, Buffy.
Yeah."
His balls tightened and a drop of clear liquid oozed from the
head as heat spread through him, strong, insistent and so sweet.
Spike
didn't hear the door to his crypt opening and closing. He didn't hear the soft
footsteps approaching. He didn't hear the surprised gasp when the woman emerged
from the shadows. He didn't realize what an eyeful she got.
* *
*
Spike's head leaned against the sofa cushion, his eyes closed, long
lashes resting against his pale cheeks. His spiky blond hair was mussed and
stood in all directions. A strained statement was on his face, part pleasure,
part pain, she suspected. Perfect, white teeth gnawed at his full, lower lip. He
was tempting, so tempting ...
She should leave, as silently as she had
arrived, but she stayed where she was. She couldn't move a muscle. And if she
were honest with herself, wasn't this why she was here - because she wanted him?
This ... situation would only make it easier for both of them. No dancing around
what they wanted, just ... right into the middle of it. Immediately.
His
thick shaft stood proudly, in sharp contrast with the black jeans, and his
squared hand held it in a loving grip, caressing up and down slowly, as though
wanting to savor each stroke as much as possible. As his thumb moved across its
head, Spike's mouth opened to draw in unneeded air. His lower lip was swollen,
and his eyes were closed.
She had done this to him; she knew it. She
could still remember the sensation of his jeans-clad shaft pressing into her,
insistently, hard ... so hard.
A groan spilled over his lips, drowning
her soft moan at the memory of him.
"Soddin' bitch. You want me, I know
you do," he said.
Buffy froze, thinking he had seen her, but then she
realized he was just talking to an imagined person. Who was she? Was it
her?
Buffy knew this was madness. She should just turn around and leave,
but she needed - wanted - to hear her name on his lips.
"Buffy," Spike
groaned as if he could feel her desperation, and his caress sped up. His voice
was rough, so ... needy. She hadn't heard it quite like that before, and it sent
a tremor through her body.
He tilted his hips, rocking into his fist;
the unnecessary gulps of breath becoming more frequent and more desperate. She
knew he was close to coming.
"Yeah, just like that, you little bitch,"
Spike snarled and his legs fell apart a little more. "I'd fuck you. Fuck you
hard."
The words made her want to walk over to him, to offer herself, and
force him to make good on that promise.
His face shifted into the
demon's, and Buffy inhaled sharply, only to cover her mouth with her hand, but
it seemed as though Spike was too engrossed in what he was doing to even notice
her presence.
She had never realized it before, but the sight of him in
game face turned her on even more than the human guise he normally wore. As
though enchanted, Buffy moved from the shadows. He must be able to smell her
arousal now.
* * *
"Slayer," Spike groaned.
A familiar
scent wafted through his crypt, but he couldn't quite place it at once. It was
stronger than he'd ever experienced before, and then he knew what it was. Buffy.
Was he so desperate that he was making up the scent of her arousal? No, he
wasn't that far gone. His eyes snapped open and with the enhanced sight of his
demon half, he spotted her instantly.
She stood only ten feet away,
moving slowly toward him. When his gaze met hers, he was almost sorry he had
opened his eyes, because she stopped, ready to flee. He instantly closed his
eyes again.
It was as though she didn't want him to look at her. If he
didn't see her, and acknowledge that she was there, she'd come to him.
So, he kept his eyes closed, tense and immobile, waiting to see what she
would do.
The sound of her moving was enough to make him tense even
more. Was she leaving or was she coming closer? He strained his hearing to
maximum trying to determine where she was, and to his relief, the sound of her
soft footsteps on the stone floor was coming closer. He relaxed only a little,
unsure of what would come next.
He only barely stifled a moan as her warm
hands landed on his thighs. His cock jumped and he pulled his hands away,
spreading his legs just a little wider in silent invitation.
*Please,
Buffy,* he thought. *Please... touch me.*
As if she had heard him, she
moved her hands along his thighs, closer to his straining sex. The warmth spread
through him, suffusing his body with a need he couldn't control. He groaned, and
then her small but strong hands cupped his balls. They pulled up, drawing close
to his body. Her other hand encircled his shaft, rubbing it tentatively.
"Oh yes," he hissed, thrusting into her caress. "Yes."
She
didn't say anything. He could barely hear her breathe, but her heartbeat was
quick. Was she excited or ... afraid? Not of him - she had never been afraid of
him - but perhaps of what she was doing? He waited, desperate to feel more of
her touch.
Her hand on his cock was almost enough to push him over the
edge. He'd been so close already before he knew she was there, but the mere
thought of her kneeling between his legs like that, holding him tightly,
caressing him - it was almost enough to push him over the edge. He fought it
with all his might. He wanted this to last, because it might be his only chance
to ever have her.
* * *
His face was drawn tight almost as if he
were in pain. But he had closed his eyes, the moment he met her gaze. He'd
understood, and for that she was grateful. A small voice inside her insisted
that he always knew what she wanted or what she needed, and nearly always acted
accordingly, even when she didn't even know what she wanted or needed.
Spike wanted her so much that he was ready to give her what she needed
to deny it had ever happened - afterwards, no matter what it cost him. She knew,
and finally accepted, that what he said was true. He really did love her, and
that frightened her.
She had longed to touch him for so long, she had to
admit that to herself now, and what frightened her most was that this might not
be enough, this intimate, but unemotional touch. This was just sex, just ... a
physical act. It frightened her that she might want more. This was all she was
ever going to allow herself, and she would savor each second.
She slowed
down a little, recognizing the signs of his drawn up testicles, the tension in
his body. Spike's fingers grabbed the edge of the sofa in a death grip. So
close, he was so close and he was fighting it with all he had. She didn't want
this to be over so soon either. Not now that she was finally there, touching him
ways she had longed for, such a long time.
*Were you thinking about me,
Spike? Did you want me to touch you?*
As they had fought earlier that
night, she had realized how much she really wanted him too. The knowledge of
that truth had sent her running. She'd felt him against her, felt her own need
to just rip off his clothes and ... be close, as close as they could.
She had stopped running almost at once, but he was gone already. So she
asked herself what difference it would make if she let him in? If she allowed
herself to enjoy what she wanted? He'd already nestled inside her, with his
cocky attitude, sexy smiles and peculiar way of wanting to protect her, while
being her worst enemy at the same time. It was an odd relationship, but that was
her life. Odd.
She had turned around, still unsure of what she wanted and
now she was here ...
She pulled away, and rose to her feet.
He
let out a disappointed moan. His eyelids fluttered as though he was about to
open his eyes, but he didn't, and she noticed another kind of tension returning
to his body. Did he think she was going to leave? Did he think she could be that
cruel?
Yes, why wouldn't he? After all the things they had said and done
to each other, why wouldn't he think that this was only another one of their
cruel games? It was understandable, but what he didn't realize was that she
wanted this as much as he did. She couldn't leave, as much as she might have
wanted to. It would have been a good revenge for the things he had done, and for
a short moment she contemplated it.
"Slayer?" he said, cautiously, still
not opening his eyes.
She didn't answer, but she pulled off her panties
slowly, but kept her top and skirt on. She noticed him hearing what she was
doing and his nostrils flared as she finally dropped her damp panties on the
floor. She moved toward him again, resting her hands against his thighs, and
then pulling at his jeans. He moved to help her, but she just tore them off,
pushing him back on the sofa. She didn't say anything, as though hearing her own
voice would break the spell, and maybe it would.
Then she put her hands
on his shoulders, straddling him, and he shifted into his human guise, That was
okay, too. Looking at his smooth features, she grabbed him, aiming his hardness
at her heat. She saw his shock, as he let out an involuntary gasp, but still he
didn't open his eyes.
He just threw his head back and groaned.
"Oh,
bloody hell!" he shouted. "Give a bloke some warning, will you?"
Buffy
smiled at that, but her smile died as she sank onto his hardness, and he filled
her completely. She had had no idea how good this would feel.
"Oh yessss!
Spike," she moaned.
She'd forgotten that she wasn't the silent type when
making love. How would she be able to keep her own promise to herself? How would
she be able to keep quiet, when he was so good ... so good, inside her?
He stretched every part of her, the slide of his smooth hardness against
her insides filling her completely, making the nerve-endings deep inside her
tingle and demand that she move, move. More, more! Now!
Torturing them
both, she moved slowly on him, savoring the sensation of him filling her,
savoring the sight of him. He looked debauched, with the black t-shirt crumpled
across his stomach and the blond hair a mess.
"Gods, Buffy," he groaned,
and allowed her to set the pace, and she was torturing them both by not allowing
her desire to speed up, to take control.
His voice did things to her,
and she wanted to punish him for speaking. Clenching her muscles tightly around
him, she made him shudder. Clawing at his chest, she left red welts across his
pale, almost luminous skin.
Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her waist
impatiently, his cool fingers splaying over her hips and stomach helping her
move on him. It ignited her, set her aflame and she could no longer resist the
temptation of letting go completely. Their coupling changed instantly. Gone was
the careful, slow lovemaking, and gone was the need to draw it out.
She
laughed in the midst of it all. It bubbled up inside her like water, and as much
a source of life. Joy, unexpected in this moment, with ... him.
A feral
grin crossed his features as he sat up, flattening her breasts against his chest
and that forced her to move her hands away from his chest. Instead, she grabbed
onto his shoulders to keep upright. His face ended up mere inches from hers. She
licked her lips, knowing that her face would speak of much more than just desire
at this moment. He still didn't open his eyes, and regret and gratitude fought
inside her.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for the first
time. Shivers traveled from his lips against her, into her, and despite their
coolness they made her warm. That heat spread through her body, stoking the
flames between her legs. His tongue buried gratefully inside her, fighting her
and both winning and losing that battle over and over again. She tasted him, his
lips, and his tongue. He tasted of something dark and rich, not blood, or
anything else she could put a name on, but she craved that spice as much as she
craved the touch of his hands, the move of his body against her, inside her.
"Ohh, Spike. Harder," she groaned, throwing her head back, allowing his
lips to travel from her mouth, down across her chin, her throat and her
collarbone. .
He pushed frantically at her top, and she moved to help
him. Soon, all she wore was her skirt, riding high around her waist, and he
leaned against her, suckling her nipples, biting them lightly as he moved into
her, slamming harder for each thrust. He was like cold fire and steel, his shaft
rubbing against her clit for each stroke, sending her closer to orgasm, and
Buffy knew that whatever her plans had been when she came to him, they were
shattered the very moment her body crashed into the first orgasm. Pleasure tore
into her body like a sword, his hard cock filling her completely.
The
pain/pleasure made her scream.
Nothing comprehensible, just the language
of ... it made her whole, and that moment, Buffy knew she had been wrong. It
wasn't just sex. It never could be *just* sex, not with Spike.
Not with
someone she loved.
"Oh, god, Spike," she cried as the second orgasm
drove through her. Her eyes snapped open, looking into his face. He fought to
keep his demon visage in control.
"No, Spike," she whispered and grabbed
his face with both hands, feeling the ripples of his features under her hands.
It excited her. "Look at me."
He kept his eyes closed, shaking his head.
"I promised, luv."
"It's okay, Spike. Look at me."
And
he did, yellow flickering through his eyes, fighting to overpower the blue.
"It's okay," she whispered again, leaning forward to kiss him. "I want
you. All of you."
"No." he snarled. "Not like this."
She leaned
closer, kissing his lips, cutting her tongue on one of his sharp canines. "It's
okay, Spike. I love you."
He sucked her tongue, swallowing each drop of
blood that she would yield, and the demon burst forth in front of her eyes, a
fierce growl tearing through Spike as he came, his cock pulsing violently
sending bursts of cool liquid into her.
"Buffy!" he roared, sounding to
her ears like the predator he was.
Moments later he relaxed in her arms.
"I love you," he whispered into her neck. "I love you,
Buffy."
And the most significant words spilled over her lips.
"I
believe you."
The End
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