Steel & Wire & Silicone
Written by: Wednesday
Author's Website
Summary: Don’t blame it on the sunshine, don’t blame it on the moonlight, don’t blame it on the good times,
blame it on the Initiative. A little bit of everything: sex, bad language, implied
violence and just a dash of BDSM.
Spoilers: Smashed/Wrecked
Disclaimer: None of the characters depicted in this story are mine. All
belong to Joss Whedon and Co.
Author’s Note: This is the second ficlet in what might be a series of Spike
POVs on his desire for the Slayer. It started out quite sweet…. personally
I blame the person who said my muse needed a good spanking. It seems my
muse quite likes that sort of thing, so this was the result. It could also
end ‘Codeine makes everything better’ because that was what I was taking
when I wrote it.
Feedback: Oh baby, please, nj_adams@hotmail.com
I’m wide-awake, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing as she
sleeps. She’s curled up with her back to me, keeping her distance, already
trying to forget that the last few hours ever happened.
I turn cautiously onto my side and wince, almost every muscle in my bruised
body protesting. The cuts on my back are already starting to heal, the torn
edges knitting silently together under their beads of borrowed blood, but I
know I’ll be sore for days, and as I run my tongue over a swollen lip I
realise she’s split it.
Again.
Damn bitch always has to hurt me where she can see it.
I stretch carefully, trying to get the feeling back into my limbs without
waking her. She seems to have forgotten I’m here, in her sacred childhood
bed, and I want to savor this small accomplishment before she remembers and
asks me to leave with her usual charm. I’ve more than enough bruises for
one night.
There’s barely a mark on her, I note, annoyed. It might suit her to keep
her dirty little secret safe behind perfect skin, but it’s hardly a fitting
tribute to the evening’s activities. Dru’ may have hurt me and humiliated
me, but at least she wanted the whole world to know.
She always liked an appreciative audience.
But her. She uses me and abuses me and then she keeps me hidden in the
shadows until the next time she’s ready to let the darkness slip back
between her sheets. And when she is, I’m always there, waiting silently, a
willing prisoner behind invisible bars, held captive in the palm of her
hand.
I try to blame it on the metalwork accessorizing my head, but I know it’s
much more than that. The whitebread, corn-fed soldier boy couldn’t come up
with anything more complex than a miniature cattle prod, painful and
debilitating maybe, but not capable of this kind of punishment.
This could only be love. I don’t like it and I didn’t want it but I
recognize the subtle blend of pain and aching need all too well.
It hurts. It hurts like hell. But the really funny thing about it is that
there’s a part of you that doesn’t want the pain to stop. Every time it
starts to fade, you pick away at the wound, opening it up, never letting it
heal, because having pain keeps you safe. It grounds you. And it allows
you to forgive yourself for loving someone you should never have let in in
the first place.
I try to maneuver into a more comfortable position, but she stirs and rolls
over towards me, eyes flying open when her hand hits my chest. Damn.
“What the…? Spike! What the hell are you doing here?”
I raise an eyebrow and bite back a comment on her selective memory, deciding
the truth will hurt more.
“You dragged me up here”
“What are you still doing here?”
She’s pulled the sheet protectively over her breasts, as if I don’t remember
what they look like. As if the image of her naked body isn’t burned into my
brain.
“Just admiring the view.” At least if she’s embarrassed, she’s less likely
to kick my ass.
“I want you to leave. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Spike, please.”
“Oh, ‘please’ now is it?” I cock my head and grin. “You know, you’re cute
when you beg.”
“Argh!” She punches my arm in frustration and I keep smiling, even though
it hurts, because I know just how much it annoys her.
“Why won’t you go?”
“What can I say, luv, I like a job done properly. That itch still needs
scratching.”
“You are so gross. I can’t believe I’m even talking to you. I should just
throw you out.”
You should, but you haven’t and my aching back would really prefer it if you
didn’t.
“Now, now. That’s not very polite. You invited me in, remember?”
“Well, the invitation’s off.”
“Only need one, luv.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Keep your voice down.” I lean over and whisper. “Or do you really want
your friends to know you’re still taking your work home with you… or that
you got so hot beating the crap out of me we didn’t even make it up the
stairs…?”
She’s cut me off with a hand over my mouth, eyes flashing a warning. God
she’s beautiful when she wants to hurt me.
I take a sharp breath and I realize I can still smell the sour sweet scent
of our sex on her fingers, her juices mingled with her own. My insides take
a spin and I feel my cock leap to attention. I grasp her hand and the words
come tumbling out before I realize I’m even speaking.
“S’okay, no-one’s here. Niblet’s out. She stayed at Janice’s. And
Willow’s gone.”
I’m trying really hard not to beg her to let me stay and she’s just looking
at me like I’ve killed her best friend.
“Gone out. I heard the door.”
She still looks suspicious, but her body relaxes.
“You still have to leave.”
“Not yet.” I’m shaking my head.
“Why?!”
“Something I have to do first.”
I slide my hand down under the covers and start to stroke myself. She looks
away.
“You’re disgusting.”
“You didn’t think it was disgusting last night.” My smile gets a little
wider. “Or maybe you were just minding your manners. Maybe you didn’t want
to talk with your mouth full…”
“That’s it!”
She lunges for me and I grab her wrists, but she’s caught up in the sheet
wrapped around her middle. I hook my legs around her as she struggles and
flip her onto her back, pinning her down with the full weight of my body.
I lean over and press my mouth right against her ear, whispering slowly as I
hold her wrists tight, ignoring the pain that’s shooting across my back.
“Baby, tell me you really want me to leave, and I’ll leave.”
I trail kisses slowly down the salty skin of her neck.
“Do you?”
I can feel the shiver going through her. She answers “yes”, but it’s
whispered on a quick intake of breath, as if she’s taking it back before the
words even leave her mouth.
I let go of her hands and start kissing her shoulders, teasing with my teeth
and leaving tiny glistening trails with the tip of my tongue. She fists her
hand in my hair and pulls me back up. I close my eyes and brace myself.
Nothing happens. I open them again.
“We’ve got to stop doing this.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Why, afraid you’re gonna wear me out? That’s sweet, but I can keep going
all night.” I hold her gaze as I grind slowly against her. “I just keep
going…” she takes a sharp breath, “and going… and going…”
She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t need to because she’s kissing me like she’s
tasted the fires of hell and she doesn’t care because she’s already damned.
All self-control deserts me and I’m left with nothing but the feeling of her
hands in my hair and her tongue in my mouth, pulling me into her, taking me
to that other place, the place where she wants this and she wants me.
Then through the haze I feel her arms snake around my waist and I’m jerked
up and out of the moment by a sudden searing pain, as she digs her nails
into my back.
“Bloody hell, Slayer!”
She looks up at me, with a sly smile on her face.
“What, Big Bad can’t handle the pain?” she says, and starts to scratch her
fingernails over my nipple.
I take a sharp breath and grab her hand, guiding it down my chest, trying to
minimize the damage, but feeling the beautiful tug of all four of her nails
when she reaches my cock, as she scrapes her nails against the delicate
head. They’re razor sharp and she’s dragging them up and down, like tiny
daggers against the skin.
Sweet Jesus.
“Well?”
What was the question again?
“No.”
“No?” She sits up and pulls away.
I try to focus.
“Yes. I mean, Yes.”
That must be the right answer because she’s straddled my thighs and I’m
suddenly looking up at her flushed face, before she swoops down to crush her
mouth back into mine. My swollen bottom lip stings and I feel the rush from
the pain just as she starts to grind her wet cunt against my tender flesh.
Yes. Oh yes.
I’m moaning into her mouth and I’m losing myself in her heat.
She lifts herself onto me and as I feel her soft, tight, warmth enclose my
sore, aching cock, I realize:
Pain makes everything better.
Even loving her.
THE END
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