One Good Lay: Gold, Silk and Wishes by Kira-nerys

Gold, Silk & Wishes

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary: Spike doesn't have much in the sense of morals, but what else is new?
Disclaimer: Spike and Buffy and the other characters of the show belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and everyone else who've got some kind of copyright in this. They don't belong to me. I don't make money on this, and I don't really intend to infringe on anyone's copyright. All I do is think sexy thoughts about a certain vampire, and sometimes I enjoy writing those thoughts down. Don't sue me. I'm about as broke as Spike ...
Beta: Thanks to Mad Hamlet for the best beta a girl could ask for!
Feedback: Please, long and detailed, short and sweet at: kardasi@kardasi.com

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Spike's fingers caressed the materials with a look of contentment on his face. He moved his hands around, closing his eyes, deciding to pick something based on how it felt, rather than the way it looked. It was a game he had played many times, all by himself, and a game he never tired of.

He didn't have any problem at all, going through the Slayer's underwear. It was fun from time to time. It wasn't often that he snuck into her bedroom like this to go through the drawers. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, even though Riley had caught him a while back. The danger of being caught lent even more of a thrill to the experience and Spike chuckled softly to himself. He listened carefully for sounds from the rest of the house, but it sounded and smelled empty. None of its three female occupants were there.

Eventually his fingers stopped at one so soft, he wasn't sure it was actually a piece of clothing. He opened his eyes and a smile crossed his lips.

He took the skimpy garment out of the drawer and held it in both hands. It was a gold colored pair of panties, so thin that he doubted it covered much of anything. The silk felt cool even to his hands, but he tried to imagine what they would feel like, had she worn them. Warm, and even softer from the heat of her perfect skin.

He had never seen them before, so they must be fairly new.

Spike wrapped the material around his fingers, lifting the panties to his nose and inhaled deeply. They were clean, of course, but his vampiric senses could trace the slightest hint of Buffy's own scent, the scent of her arousal and he couldn't stifle the satisfied grunt that spilled over his lips. He hardened.

"Bloody lovely, that is," he muttered to himself.

The fabric was so fragile and so sparkling it appeared to be made out of sunshine. Heat traveled through his body from his fingertips, through his arm and spreading throughout his body, pooling in his gut in warmth that seemed to have a life of its own.

'I should turn to dust from this,' Spike thought. 'It would be worth it, just to smell her nectar. If only I could taste it, just once...'

"Spike?"

He jumped at Buffy's voice, caught off guard. He hadn't heard her footsteps, or smelled her presence, and his face instinctively rippled into the demon. For the first time since he entered her bedroom, he felt embarrassed. Not at the fact that he'd been sniffing her
underwear, but that he'd been caught - again.

'Bloody hell! What is wrong with me?' Spike thought.

He hadn't even heard her approach.

"What are you doing in my bedroom?"

He forced his demon visage under control. It was difficult; as all of his senses screamed at him that she was *there*. She was everything he wanted. Her scent wafted toward him, sweet and heady, making him feel light-headed. The light from the lamp in the hallway framed her lithe body, showing off her slender curves to perfection. His hands ached to touch her, to slide across the perfect skin of her collarbone, to push away the stripes of her dress and push it off her body, to reveal her breasts to his lips and his caress. Still, the embarrassment kept him from speaking or doing anything else. He lowered his hands and tried to hide the piece of clothing he held.

It seemed it was only then that Buffy realized what he'd been doing. Her hands landed on her hips in an indignant stance.

"You're smelling my underwear! That is *so* gross!" Her face held a look of disgust.

"So?" he shrugged defensively, anger rising in him immediately. It was just like her to jump to conclusions! She was right, of course, but ... "What are you going to do about it?"

Everything he did was "disgusting" to her. Had she ever given him a scrap of her good graces? If she'd only let him... Spike's mind filled with images of her body pressed against his, screaming for release, wanting him, writhing beneath him ... he'd never do this. Had she ever thanked him for anything? No, of course not. That would be too bloody much to give to "the neutered vampire".

A thrill coursed through him as he caught her tongue snaking over her lips, wetting them, and the quick look she passed over his body wasn't one of disgust. Was she turned on by the thought that he wanted her? Of course, she'd never admit to it. Unless...

'I'll show her how soddin' neutered I am!'

His inner demon snarled in agreement and his feature started to change, but he fought back the game face.

"Is it?" Spike asked. He threw the garment into the drawer and shut it with a loud noise. "Is it really, Slayer?"

He tilted his head and moved closer, slowly, one step at a time he closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. Buffy's eyes widened, as though she didn't know whether to stand her ground or to run. Spike hoped she wouldn't run. He wasn't disappointed. She straightened her back and met his gaze without flinching.

"Yeah, it's disgusting. You are disgusting!"

"Tell me something new, Slayer. I've heard that before," he muttered and stopped only when he was close enough to feel her breath against his face.

She poked her index finger into his chest. Hard. He flinched. Slayer strength poking wasn't much fun. It felt like her finger was digging into his flesh. Good thing it wasn't made of wood ...

"Get out, Spike, or I'll stake you!" The threat in her voice was wearing thin and her gaze wouldn't quite meet his.

"I don't think you mean it, pet," he said and caught her hand, drawing her closer until her body made contact with his from tip to toe. It felt good. There was softness and curves, warmth and ... muscles.

'Oh, bloody hell. Just kill me now if I can't taste this,' Spike thought, crushing her against him.

She stared at him, defiantly, with sparks flying from her eyes.

"I think you like this," he leered.

He watched her closely. Her hair flung about her face, loose and newly washed. It smelled good. He'd thought she'd stay out longer, which was why he'd risked going into her bedroom in the first place, but she must have left the Bronze early. Right now, he thought that might be a good thing after all.

"In your dreams, Spike!" she spat and pushed at him to get away, but her position in his arms and his tight grip around her affected her maneuverability.

She was so beautiful, her lips blood red and the dress she wore matched the lipstick perfectly.

"Oh yes, love, in many of my dreams," he purred.

Then he bent down to kiss her.

She bit him.

He bit back, and growled. She relaxed against him, opened her mouth and let him inside, but he didn't trust her. He'd been right not to, because she bit him again, and he groaned.

"Slayer," he whispered as he pulled away. He buried his face into her neck. "Don't fight it. You want me, I know you do. I saw it in your eyes."

"You're imagining things," Buffy said breathlessly, and tried to get loose, but her heart didn't seem to be in it. Her strength was greater than the force in her push, he knew that much, and her gaze traveled across his face, pausing on his mouth. She licked her lips and the pink tip of her tongue tempted him. He wanted to taste it, needed to taste it.

"Why don't you admit it, pet?" he mumbled. "My chip isn't activating. I could never hold you like this if you really wanted to get away."

He pressed his lips against hers again, taunting her mouth with the tip of his tongue, licking her tantalizingly.

* * *

She couldn't believe it. Damn. Spike in her bedroom, smelling her panties, and she thought that was hot? Had someone slipped her a drug at the Bronze? Had she been hit harder than she thought, when killing that vampire on the way back home?

It was disgusting. It was gross. It was totally ... sexy.

Buffy didn't want to believe it, but as Spike's tongue licked across her lips, she couldn't stifle a moan.

The image of him standing in her bedroom, holding the panties Anya had bought her for her last birthday, really turned her on. She'd only worn them once, but the blissful look on Spike's face told her that once had been enough. He had been able to smell her, and the knowledge made her wet.

She pulled back and looked at him. His arms around her body were like bands of steel, but he was right. If she really wanted to get loose, she could. She'd just push at his chest, hard, and he'd have to let go. She knew they were of about equal strength. Just the thought of that turned her on. It had been so long since she'd been with a man where she didn't have to hold back. Only once had she made love with someone she didn't have to be careful with, and back then she'd been so inexperienced and unsure of herself.

Now, she wasn't. She knew what she wanted, and much as it surprised her, she wanted Spike. He was hard against her, and felt warmer. She frowned. Spike was no longer room temperature. She felt the heat of his hardness against her, his body temperature rising for each second with his evident desire. That tickled her more than anything had for a long time.

"Come on, Slayer," he hissed. "You know you want it, and I won't tell a soul."

"You'd better not," she agreed and pushed him.

As she had suspected, his surprise and her strength were enough to make him let go, and he fell back on her bed with the force of her push.

"If you want to fuck me, Spike. You'd better come and get me."

And she ran out of the room. She heard him curse vehemently behind
her.

"Bloody hell, Slayer. What's wrong with your bed?"

She chuckled and ran into the night.

* * *

The cemetery was dark and quiet. The clouds traveled slowly across the sky, letting the moon peek through from time to time. Long shadows played across the grass, and he inhaled deeply. He could smell her. She was here, somewhere.

Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. She was trying to trick him, he was sure. There were two traces of her scent now, but they divided. One lead toward the larger street at the other end of the cemetery, and he followed it, even though he suspected it might be the wrong one. They were both so recent and so strong.

He found her panties hanging from a tombstone that said "Janet McLaughlan. 1949 - 1999, She was a good mother and a beloved wife."

"Sorry, Janet," Spike said. "But I don't think you'll be needing these."

He snatched the panties and pushed them into his jeans pocket.

"Slayer," he roared. "Where are you?"

He returned to the place where he'd been when he felt the traces of her scent divide. He let go of the demon inside and his face shifted into his game face. He was on the hunt now, and his senses sharpened even more.

"Come here, pet," he crooned.

No answer.

Spike stiffened as noises came from the far edge of the cemetery. He tilted his head, listening. Finally he could make out that it was a gang of vampires. A part of him wanted to join them, to find a source of blood, to hunt and to kill. Another part of him was in no way interested in crossing paths with his own kind at this moment. He just wanted to get his hands - and other parts - on the Slayer. His need for her was stronger, he decided he'd just go around the others of his kind.

Still, he couldn't help wondering, was she simply teasing and leading him on? Had she grabbed a stake on the way out and intended to kill him? Or had she just decided that she wanted sex and he'd been conveniently there? He wasn't sure.

"And you don't even care. You're a fool, William," he told himself.

Despite the knowledge that he was being a big idiot, he sniffed the air again, avoiding the gang of vampires easily. They were all fledglings and had nothing to put up against his master vampire strength. If they happened to run across the Slayer, she'd make short work with them and they would join the rest of the dirt on the
cemetery.

He stalked through the darkness, easily avoiding the headstones. This was his turf, and his lair lay close by. Maybe she had actually gone to his crypt?

Yes, he could smell her now. Her scent was strong and heady, and she was aroused. If he wasn't mistaken, other vampires might smell her, and come after her.

"Damn it, Slayer. Turn down the horniness a notch or two," he muttered to himself. "Unless you want a gangbang."

The mere thought of that made him pissed of, but satisfied as well. He 'd done this to her, made her all wet and bothered, and without much trying. She was his, and nobody else's. He started running through the darkness, needing to get close to her again. Now, not later. Now.

Growling, he reached his crypt, and there she was, leaning against one of the dank walls. Her head tilted to one side, she glanced at him through long links of blond hair that hung over her face. She looked
positively debauched.

With one leg drawn up, her heel resting against the wall, she was so tempting. The skirt of her red dress billowed across her soft thighs. Spike swallowed, and turned instantly hard.

"You want this?" she whispered and started pulling at the hem of her skirt. It hitched upward with each second that passed by. With half-lidded yes, she gave him a come-hither look that burned through him. Her chest heaved and the perfect globes of her breasts moved with her every breath.

"You trying to give me a coronary, Slayer?" he said, surprised at how husky his own voice had become.

"Want it?" she said and pulled the skirt higher, almost to the point where he could see what he wanted so badly. He saw her wet his lips, but it barely registered with him, he only had eyes for her strong hands lifting the skirt higher.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Damn right, I want it. I want you, Slayer."

Even as the words left his mouth, he cringed. They sounded wrong. Slayers were for killing, not fucking, and still...he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Come and get it then," she said and threw her head back, revealing the milky soft, pale skin of her throat. He could see the veins in her neck throbbing even from this distance and he wanted her, needed her. He felt his face change, and he couldn't have stopped it even if his life depended on it.

"Still want me, Slayer?" he asked, as his voice grew deeper, harsher with the change.

"I want you, Spike," she replied and pulled her skirt all the way up.

His face was in full demon visage now; he could feel it. Saliva dripped from his teeth, and he swallowed. The sight of her was so alluring he thought he might combust, hunger coursing through his veins like the beast he was, but it wasn't hunger for blood, not this time. It was the hunger for her. And she was there - there to feed that starvation, now.

A fraction of a second later, he was with her, bending his head to lick at her throat, suck at her flawless skin. Her pulse quickened underneath his mouth, and he knew he could never bite her, unless she gave him permission. Would she ever?

Her hands pulled at his trousers, pulling his hard cock out into the cool air. He shuddered at her warm touch as she cupped his balls, and caressed him a couple of times. He grew even harder, and grunted in disappointment as she let go of him, but the grunt changed into a groan as her arms wound around his neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist and in a single motion, his cock buried instantly inside her wet, hot folds.

And he caught her mouth with his, kissing her. This time, she didn't bite. She kissed him back. Hot, nasty, open-mouthed and wet kisses. She gave as good as she got, and she didn't even seem to mind his fangs. He tried to shift back, but the need of her was too great and she didn't pull away as he kissed her back.

There was bad in this Slayer, as he'd known. A part of her was just as predatory as he was.

It was as close to heaven as a vampire like him could ever come. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. He flicked his tongue out and tasted the sweat that ran on her neck. Salty. He licked her again, more insistently and his fangs brushed against the pulse point in her neck. He wanted to bury his fangs inside her as deeply as his cock was buried between her legs.

"Spike," she groaned urgently, egging him on.

He thrust harder, viciously, and she seemed to want more. She tightened her legs around him, pulling at his shirt, as though she wanted more of his skin touching hers. It was awkward, as they were so tangled together, and the clothes were in the way and neither of them wanted to part for an instant. He growled impatiently and grabbed her arms, holding them tightly over her head. She gave up on trying to undress him, and he thrust inside her again, and again.

"Harder," she hissed. "Harder, Spike. Fuck me."

Her head bounced against he wall for each time he buried himself inside her, but she didn't seem to care.

"Yes... " Her voice was high pitched in his ear, then lowering, choking on her desire. "Yes....yes," she repeated.

"Oh yeah," he growled into her ear. "Wet and hot little Slayer. You want me so much. Make me feel it. Squeeze me harder," he growled, and thrust into her warmth in a driving rhythm, climbing toward orgasm, slowly but steadily.

He couldn't believe Buffy was actually there, giving as good as she got, squeezing her muscles around him. He fought to believe, even though she enveloped his cock inside her, that she was there in his arms, and wasn't the poor substitute of Harmony trying to pretend she was the Slayer, the stupid *bint*.

If Buffy had hid a stake somewhere in that skimpy outfit, if she intended to dust him, he didn't care. He didn't care, because she was warm, hot and moist, and she had wrapped her legs around his body in a tight embrace. He thrust inside her mindlessly, and let go of her hands to grip her hips to give him more leverage. He was reveling in the incredible feel of her enveloping him. She met his every thrust eagerly, and her arms wound around his neck. Her grip was so strong that they would have broken the neck of a man. But he wasn't a man - he was a vampire.

"Bite me," she whispered.

"What?"

He couldn't have heard her right, but if he did.... His cock swelled and he was at the brink of orgasm in an instant.

She tilted her head to the side, baring her neck to him.

"Oh," he let out a deep, hungry growl, almost losing control.

"Bite me," she repeated. "You haven't gone deaf, have you, Spike?"

"No," he choked.

This was the only thing in the world he had wanted so much it was tearing him apart. And she was offering it to him.

'Slayer's blood. Buffy's blood.'

A tremble went through his body at the thought, and still he hesitated.

"Then feed off me," she said.

He couldn't fight it anymore, so he buried his fangs in her throat. The blood spurted into his mouth in hot, delicious pulses. And he came, and came and came ....

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here, Spike?" Buffy said.

Her voice sounded tired, as though she didn't even have the energy to be really pissed off.

"I'm... um."

He was wide-awake in the blink of an eye. He'd fallen asleep on her bed, and his pants were all sticky. He'd come in his sleep. Damn. He sat up in her bed and pulled the duster around him carefully.

"Um, I came here to talk to you but you weren't here, and I ... fell asleep waiting. What happened?"

She sank down on the bed beside him and sighed. "Riley left."

Spike bit his lip so as not to say something stupid. He didn't want to hurt her feelings after all. She seemed hurt enough, and he guessed part of it was what he had shown her in that vampire nest. But he couldn't just let cardboard man con her like that. Spike watched her carefully and her face was etched with sadness. The lines across her eyes seemed deeper, and the shadows beneath them had grown darker. The gleam in her eyes spoke of tears not yet spilled, but held back with all her might.

"What happened?" Spike said softly.

"I really don't want to talk about it," she said with a tired look.

"All right" he said and held his hands in the air in a warding gesture. "I might be able to help you know." He couldn't quite keep the hurt from his voice.

"Help me?" Her head snapped up and she looked at him with contempt in her eyes.

He was pretty used to that, but he winced nonetheless.

"You started this, Spike, and you're nothing but a big - huge - problem!"

"I'm a problem?"

"Yeah, you're taking up my bed, and I want to go to sleep. Just get out of here."

Spike rose to his feet.

"All right, Slayer."

As he climbed out her window, he started whistling. Maybe that dream had been an omen of what was to come? She might still hate him, but at least Riley was gone, and with him the true "big problem". Spike grinned wickedly to himself. He had time to wait.

* * *

Up in her room, Buffy found something small and golden in her bed. It was crumpled to a small heap. She held it up and realized it was those panties that Anya had given her for her birthday some time ago.
They were damp.

"Spike," she hissed and threw the panties on the floor, drying her hand on her pants. "You pervert!"

The End

Back to Fiction: By Alpha ~ Back to Fiction: By Season