Out of the Light


Written by: Laure Alexander
Author's Website

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Summary: Yet another challenge response--I have several more coming--this one by Angel Jade from about a year ago. What if Spike had gotten the Ring of Amara instead of Marcus? Who would he have gone after? Of the requirements I used a Playstation and Lindsey McDonald. Spike POV.
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy and friends or Buffy the Vampire Slayer; they're owned by Joss Whedon and Fox and thankfully UPN because we get nekkid Spike! No copyright infringement intended so please don't sue.
Spoilers: Set right after In the Dark (AtS Season 1)
Warning: Bondage, non-consensual sex, language, NOT A HAPPY FIC. Another of my "helpless" Buffy fics. A/N: Well, don't know if my muse is back or not, but I've finished and/or written five fics tonight and worked on another. Probably means they all suck, but at least I feel productive for the first time in months. :)
Feedback: Please, please, please. No flames, please. laurealexander@hotmail.com

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The debate didn't last long. Go after my sire or my mortal enemy. Big and broody or buff and bitchy.

And, although, there would have been a certain pleasureful irony in chaining Angel down and fucking the shit out of him, it will hurt him even more this way.

Last time we fought I taunted her with her looks, but it was all lies. She really is extraordinarily lovely.

Can't wait to see the fury in her eyes when she wakes up.

But, since tranq darts take a while to wear off, even with her metabolism, I'll just sit here playing Resident Evil on my Playstation until she comes to.


*****


Buffy wakes in stages, the aches in her bones making themselves known one at a time, until she moans and tries to roll over.

Only then does she open her eyes.

Wide.

In horror.

I grin gleefully as she looks down at herself and gasps at the realization that she's naked and chained spread-eagled on a bed. As she tugs on the chains and kicks her feet, her eyes fly around the room, finally lighting on me.

"Spike!"

Her hiss of fury sends a shiver of pleasure through me, and I turn off the game and climb languidly to my feet. Rising on the balls of my bare feet, I stretch and slip the open shirt off my shoulders, leaving me in only an ancient pair of low-cut jeans.

"Are you insane?" she yells, tugging harder at her bonds, and turning a really attractive shade of red as my eyes fall on her heaving breasts.

I must admit that I took certain liberties when I undressed her, and fondling her tits was one of them. They're just the right size.

"How you doing there, Slayer?"

"Let me go. I will kill you slowly and painfully for this," Buffy threatens.

The scent of blood fills the air and I realize one of her wrists is cut. I didn't think to pad the cuffs.

Of course, why would I do that? Making her bleed is one of my goals in unlife.

Lightly I pounce on the bed between her legs and crouch there, my eyes fixed on her face red with humiliation. I watch her swallow hard. Watch the knowledge slowly fill her eyes with fear.

She knows I could have just killed her.

If that had been my goal.

"So, these are the slender thighs Angelus lost his soul between," I say conversationally, as one of my hands falls lightly on her stomach. She flinches from my touch, and a thrill goes through me.

"Don't," Buffy gasps out, and I watch her bite her lip, undoubtedly forcing back further protestations.

"Oh, I'm going to, luv. Best prepare yourself for that." My hand slides lower until my fingers just brush the soft brown curls at the top of her sweet pussy.

"Pig," she hisses in righteous fury that makes me laugh.

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Fucking pig!"

I grin. "Better." I begin to comb through the curls and watch carefully until the breath catches in her throat. "Now, the only question left is whether or not you enjoy it. So, what will it be, Slayer?"

Buffy gapes at me, then finally chokes out, "You want me to participate in my own..." She can't say it, but I see the fear in her expression.

Rape. It's not something I'm particularly enamored of, having seen the aftermath all to often with Dru after her sessions with Angelus, but I have done it before and I can do it again. It's much easier for all concerned if the girl is all hot and bothered, though.

"I guess, in the end, it's up to me, hm?" I slide my fingers across her clit and listen to her gasp against her will.

"Don't touch me."

I don't even dignify that with a response, simply add my thumb and circle it around the swelling nubbin of flesh, while my fingers tease her entrance.

She's getting wet, and pretty quickly for one protesting as loudly as she is.

Sliding one finger into her, I can't believe how tight she is. She gave it up to Angelus, and then remained celibate for him for over a year. Could the dick from earlier in the week have been number two?

Fuck, she might as well be a virgin.

At that thought, my cock makes itself known, hardening and pressing painfully against my zipper.

I slide a second finger into her and press my thumb on her clit. Her hips raise off the bed involuntarily, and I glance up to see that her eyes are squeezed shut and her breasts are heaving. Pulling my fingers free I notice that they're wet and sticky.

She's ready enough.

Unfastening my jeans, I shove them down my legs and lower myself onto her.

"NO."

The chains rattle and Buffy squirms as best she can, but there's no escape. She starts to threaten me again, and I tune her out. Propped on one hand, I use the other to guide my cock into her.

Fuck! She's an inferno!

Gripping her hips tightly, I push through her tight muscles until I'm fully seated, then I look down and nearly come at the stricken look on her face. I pull back and thrust again, harder this time, and the movement drives a gasp from between her clenched lips.

"Martyr," I whisper in her ear before raising up and beginning a quick rhythm. Just being buried in my enemy's body is enough to bring me to orgasm, and I know I won't last long.

This time.

As I grunt and pound into her, I feel her growing hotter and wetter, and I reach between us and flick my finger against her clit. Buffy gasps louder and fresh color blooms on her cheeks.

Dipping my head, I catch one of her nipples between my lips and worry at it as I pump harder and harder until the bedsprings groan and the headboard thumps against the wall. Her inner muscles clamp down on my cock, and I growl in lust as she wails in sad release.

While she shudders around me and beneath me, I fling my head back and let out a loud grunt as I spill my cold seed in her.

Several minutes later, as I lay on top of her, my face smashed into her breasts, my cock still half-erect inside her quivering cunt, I hear her mutter hatefully, "I'll kill you for this."

"Sure you will, luv," I mumble back, and begin to thrust again, my cock quickly reinvigorated.

"Noooo," she whimpers, twisting beneath me, trying to free herself. "I hate you, I hate you!"

I can hear the tears in her voice, as she calls me every name in the book, but I can also feel her body responding to mine, so I close my eyes and fuck her slowly to three more orgasms. Only when she's laying limp and exhausted beneath me, too tired to even cry, do I come again, and fall asleep on top of her.


*****


When the sun rises on the second day, I stand at the window, the curtains pulled wide, unconcerned about my nudity or the ultra-violet rays. The Ring of Amara glitters on my finger, as I luxuriate in the warmth of the sun and let it dry my body fresh from a shower.

Buffy wakes behind me, groaning softly. I used her unmercifully the night before. Even a Slayer's body will take time to recover from the fucking I gave her.

Turning, I see the knowledge on her face, and she pales.

"You...you took the ring..."

I hold it up for her to see. "A poker up the ass will make even a master vampire surrender," I lie, but I know she believes me.

"Bastard."

"Aw, you worried about the poof?" I debate momentarily over whether or not to let her think he's dead, but then figure she'd want to kill me even more, and add, "Don't worry. It's against the rules to kill your sire."

"He'll find me."

I grin at her bravado and run my eyes over her body. There are some lovely bruises between her legs and on her tits. And of course, my cum and her own smeared across her thighs. "Think he'll want to find you like this?"

The lovely red colors returns to her face, and she bites her lower lip and rolls her head away from me.

I reach for my clothes. "Now, I'm going to go fetch us both something to eat. Scream all you want. We're pretty isolated here and the walls are thick.

As I leave the room, she does scream, and I grin nastily.


*****


When I return carrying a McDonalds' bag--and waiting in line in broad daylight was a wonderful experience--Buffy's laying limp and silent where I left her. I can see the traces of tears on her cheeks, and wonder if I can make her cry in my presence.

Sitting next to her on the bed, I prop her head up on several pillows, then begin to feed her. She tries to refuse the first couple of bites, but I can hear her stomach rumbling, and finally she gives in and eats.

"You've become a stick, luv. Time to put some padding on these bones. Don't want to cut myself on your pelvis."

"Prick," she yells, her mouth full of French fries.

"Better," I verbally applaud her.

When she's done eating, I sit there and watch discomfort cross her face. She squirms, and flushes again. Finally, she squeezes her eyes shut and admits that she has to use the restroom.

Nice euphemism.

I had thought of making her use a bedpan, but then I'd have to clean it up and that's just too gross. Pulling a second set of chains from beneath the bed, I carefully unlatch her ankles and replace them with the hobbles. Lifting her back off the bed, I lock the chain belt around her waist and hook the anklets to it, then repeat the action with her wrists, chaining them about three inches apart, and then to the belt, so she can only raise them about six inches.

Standing up, I lift her to her feet.

Of course she tries to attack me, only to fall on her face.

"I can always chain you back on the bed and let you piss yourself."

"...No," she finally growls through gritted teeth. I pull her back up and guide her shuffling to the bathroom.

"Five minutes."


*****


When she emerges from the bathroom, I smell the scent of soap, and realize she's washed as well. I shouldn't be surprised that she'd want to be rid of my spunk.

Too bad.

Grabbing her shoulder I shove her over the back of the couch, making her cry out in surprise. As I unzip my jeans, I kick her legs as far apart as the hobbles will let them go, then press my erection against her quivering ass.

"Please, not again," Buffy moans, as I slip my dick between her legs and run it up and down her quim. She's wet with soap and water and the remnants of several orgasms, and I glide in easily. Taking her wriggling hips in my hands, I thrust hard and fast, rubbing her clit against the hard edge of the couch. She begins to groan with each thrust, and then she's moving back against me as best she can.

I grin and wrap one arm under breasts, lifting her so I can fondle her, and so she doesn't pass out with all the blood rushing to her head.

It wouldn't matter if I was human and the sex was only going to last a few minutes.

No. I plan to fuck her in this position for at least an hour.


*****


The Slayer's asleep, exhausted. She came again, twice this time, nearly screaming in pleasure the second time.

Then she started to cry.

I didn't really like that after all. Took some of the pleasure out of my own come a few minutes later.

When I dragged her back to the bed, she collapsed and curled into a ball, sniffling like a child. I don't like the way that makes me feel. She's not a child. She's my mortal fucking enemy, and, the plans I have for her don't involve being nice to her.

I'm being nice enough by letting her come first.


*****


I sleep curled around her--having taking the precaution of attaching another chain from her manacles to the ring set in the wall above the headboard. When I awaken to the rising sun, I see that she's awake as well.

The tears are gone. Instead, she regards me solemnly and sadly.

"When are you going to kill me?"

The question surprises me. Has she found her death wish? The one that haunts all Slayers?

"Who said I was?" I respond gruffly, my hands moving unconsciously up and down her spine.

"You can't let me go. The first thing I'll do is kill you," she replies, her voice a promise.

"You can try. But that's not today, and right now I have a much more pressing need than to kill you or die at your hands." Wrapping my hand around the nape of her neck, I tug her head down as I scoot up the bed. I roll onto my back and pull her across me, guiding her mouth to the tip of my erect dick.

I watch her make a face, but then, instead of struggling, she opens her mouth and sucks me in. She's not an expert by a long shot, but her almost innocent licks and sucks are enough to drive me into a squirming, groaning mass of nerves in just a few minutes.

When I come, it startles her. My hand falls lax and she jerks her head up. Most of my semen sprays across her face and chest, and she gasps and tries to wipe it away. Sliding down the bed, I lick her clean, ignoring her mumbles that I'm a sicko.

Then I slide even further down the bed, part her thighs and bury my mouth in her flowing quim, making her cry out and go wild in just under a minute.


*****


I let her feed herself the pizza I ordered, then I take her into the bathroom and run a shower for her. First I fuck her against the cold tile walls, holding her off the floor with preternatural strength, then I spend several long minutes washing her body and then her hair.

She's an unwitting sensualist, arching into my fingers as I scrub them through her tangled curls. When her hair is squeaky clean, I drop to my knees and run a soft, soapy sponge down her stomach and between her legs. I listen to her breath catch in her throat, then drop the sponge and clean her cunt with my tongue.

As she collapses against me in orgasm, I finish bathing her, then carry her from the shower and lay her on the bed to dry her. Her slender body glows pink from the hot water and the invigorating toweling, as I concentrate on drying beneath the cuffs.

There are abrasions on both her wrists and ankles, and I don't want them to get infected.

Then I slide the towel between her legs and begin to rub it back and forth.

When she's dry and panting softly in growing arousal, I turn her onto her stomach and reach into the bedside table. It's almost time, and there's one more thing to do.

"What's that for?"

Opening the bottle, I squirt lube into my hand and coat my cock, then slide two fingers between her ass cheeks.

"What are you doing?" Alarmed, Buffy tries to wriggle away from me, but I straddle her legs and pin her down. Then I worm one finger past the tight ring of muscles, and she gasps loudly. "No. Pervert!"

"Vampire, luv," I point out her redundancy. "Just relax."

"You are so dead!"

"You're going to like it."

"I will not," she yells indignantly.

I grin and grab a couple of pillows to shove under stomach. When I do that, I take a moment to stroke her clit until I feel it harden beneath my fingers, and her squirming takes on a new meaning.

Gently pulling her cheeks apart, I lick my lips at the sight of her oily pink hole, then I guide my cock to it. Grunting softly, I force my way past the muscles, careful not to tear her.

I do want her to enjoy it.

"Ow!"

"Relax," I hiss, slowly sliding deeper, the lube easing my way. When I'm fully embedded, I let out a long breath, and then pull backwards.

"Oh god," Buffy groans, and I watch her fingers dig into the bedding.

"Nope. Spike," I quip, my fingers sliding between her legs to fondle her again. Slowly I begin to fuck in and out of her, the tightness of her making me nearly cross-eyed with lust. Her wetness drips over my fingers, and her whimpers gradually change from ones of pain to ones of desire. When she begins to move back against me, I quicken my pace, my balls tightening and my cock throbbing with the onset of orgasm.

"Come, baby," I chant, pinching and twisting her swollen flesh.

Buffy moans and whimpers, then shoves her ass against my pelvis as a long shudder runs through her. Raising her head, she silently screams as she crashes into orgasm. Her anal muscles clamp down on me, and, howling, I come in huge spurts. When I finally pull free of her, both of us shaking like leaves, my cum spills out of her, and I lower my head and catch the drips on my tongue.


*****


"I hate you," she mutters when she finally recovers the use of her voice.

"Good," I say with a grin, as I catch sight of the time on the bedside alarm clock, and reach for my jeans. As I'm pulling on my shirt, the doorbell rings, and I know our time together is over.

"More food?" Buffy asks, yawning.

Not quite.

I stare down at her for a moment, and feel a pang of...

Fuck...

Dropping to my knees I cover her mouth with mine in a deep, sensuous kiss that leaves her breathless and mewling as she helplessly responds. The doorbell rings again and I break the kiss and stomp out of the room.


*****


A few minutes later, it's all over. I heard her cry out, ask what was going on. I could hear the embarrassment in her voice at being found chained and nude by strangers.

Then the sound of a tranquilizer hitting soft flesh, and a breathy whimper of pain and fear.

Wrapped in a blanket, the Slayer is carried from the bedroom and through the house over the brawny shoulder of a man clad in black. The other man, this one dressed in a several thousand dollar suit, hands me an envelope.

I don't bother counting the contents.

"Trusting of you."

"What are you going to do with her?"

"A Slayer? The former lover of a certain vampire with a soul? Oh, she has her uses." He turns to leave, then looks over his shoulder. "It was good to do business with you, Spike."

I mutter something in response, and Lindsey McDonald, junior lawyer at the biggest demonic law firm in the world, walks out following the Slayer.

Following Buffy.

Fuck...

What have I done?

THE END


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