Part One...
"OW!! Fucking hell, Slayer...that hurts!"
"I'm sorry! Just hold still and let me..."
"I AM holding still!"
Buffy muttered something highly uncomplimentary beneath her breath as she taped down the last bit of gauze covering Spike's wounded hands.
"What did you say?" he demanded, looking put out.
"I said...that was one nasty little demon. What did you call it...a vendor something?"
"Vendorsatum," he corrected, watching glumly as she cleaned the bathroom counter of all it's first aid clutter. "Sort of a cross between a porcupine and a fucking king cobra."
An ugly beast to be sure. Nearly six feet tall, with long quills running from it's head down it's spine. As defense mechanisms go, it had a very good one. Not only were the quills as painful as hell if they stabbed you, but they ejected a nice little jolt of venom into each wound.
Killing it required breaking it's neck, a job that Spike had taken on after pushing Buffy out of the way and ordering her to keep clear of the creature. His hands, now riddled with twenty-seven tiny holes that looked like wasp stings, were red and swollen, and incredibly sore.
But the venom the demon injected, although painful for him,
would have likely been fatal for Buffy. Slayer or not, the poison
was strong. She probably could have survived a few stings, but not twenty-seven of them.
Turning off the bathroom light, she took hold of Spike's
arm and led him down the hallway to her room.
"My hero," she said, smiling as she locked the door behind them and turned to face him. "Thank you for taking that thing out by yourself."
"You're welcome," he replied, sitting down on her bed and leaning against the headboard. "Wasn't about to let that thing stick it's nasties in my slayer," he added, grinning crookedly. "That's my job."
Buffy sat on the bed, facing him. "Does it still hurt as much?"
He shrugged. "There's worse things to go through, I s'pose."
Hoping to distract him from the discomfort, she leaned forward and kissed him. As always, he responded like a night blooming rose to a splash of moonlight. Leaning into the kiss, he opened his mouth to allow her tongue in to play.
Everything was proceeding along it's normal course for them...that course being immediate and instant gratification of their mutual raging desire for each other...until he brought up his bandaged hands to rest on her shoulders and pull her closer.
"OWWWW...FUCK!" he yelped, releasing his hold on her and falling back against the headboard of the bed. "Goddammit! This fucking SUCKS!"
Buffy wasn't any happier about it than he was. "It hurts that bad?" she asked, wondering if she had any pain killers in the medicine cabinet strong enough to cope with the problem.
Spike shut his eyes, waiting for the worst of it to pass. "It's bearable...unless I try to fucking touch
something! Then it feels like I'm dipping my digits in a puddle of holy water."
Letting out a heavy sigh, Buffy sat back and tried to exude unselfish empathy. She didn't want him to feel worse than he already did, and he would do just that if he thought he was disappointing her.
"Listen, it's okay," she said brightly. "You don't have to touch anything. I'll take care of you." Jumping to her feet, she gave him a chipper salute. "Nurse Buffy is on the job!"
Predictably, Spike took an entirely different view of her offer. "Nurse Buffy, huh?" he asked, with a lecherous grin. "That job entail a naughty little white pinafore and cap, luv?"
The pain must have been easing up a little, she decided.
"None of that!" she said firmly. "This is strictly a mission of medical mercy, so keep your nasty little fantasies to yourself." To make sure he behaved, she stepped back from the bed. "Now...what can I get you. Blood? Aspirin?"
Resting his gauze covered mitts on his stomach, he sighed. "Blood would probably help," he said. "But you
can hold the aspirin and add a shot of Jack Daniels."
"You got it." She was halfway out the door when he called her back.
"Never mind the shot, luv," he said, grimacing as he tried to sit up. "Just bring the bottle."
*****************************
"Yay! Park Place with all my hotels!" Buffy consulted her property deeds. "You owe me....five and a half grand," she said triumphantly. "Pay up."
After bringing him his blood and whiskey, she had changed into her pink silk nightshirt, then located the Monopoly board to give them something to do while they waited for Spike's accelerated vamp healing process to kick in.
"You know, I think you're cheating," he said. "That's the fourth time I've landed there. I knew I shouldn't have let you move my piece around the board for me."
"Just fork over the money, honey."
Spike shrugged and winked at her. "Glad to. Just reach on into my pants and pull out my...."
"Hey!" she said loudly, giving him a warning look.
"...wallet," he finished. "Christ, you've got a dirty mind, Slayer."
Sitting indian-style in the middle of the bed, Buffy reached for the money on Spike's side of the Monopoly board. "Yeah, I wonder who I picked it up from," she said, counting the stack of colorful bills. "You've only got two thousand and change, you deadbeat. What are you doing staying in hotels you can't afford?"
He gave her his most charming smile. "Will you take an I.O.U?"
"No way," she replied with a shake of her head. "Your credit stinks."
"I could work it off," he suggested.
Buffy gave him a sidelong look. His voice had dropped down into the deeper register he used when he was feeling amorous, the 'bedroom voice' that never failed to turn her on.
She couldn't allow that to happen, not as long as he couldn't touch her without aggravating his wounded hands.
Not that sex wasn't do-able. There was nothing stopping them from doing it with her on top, riding him. They'd certainly done it before.
But, when they had indulged themselves in that particular position in the past, his hands had been free to roam her naked body, driving her passion and pleasure higher with every touch.
And she needed that touch. She craved it. After avoiding it for so many years, she was now hopelessly addicted to it.
Spike knew her body better than she did herself. He knew just where to touch, and for how long. Whether to be gentle or rough. He had long ago discovered every sensitive and responsive part of her, including a few she hadn't known were there.
"You're gonna crave me like I crave
blood..."
Truer words had never been uttered.
*************************
"You want some more blood?" she asked, trying to change her train of thought.
"Yeah, all right."
Buffy picked up the mug that was parked on the nightstand and brought it to his mouth. He took several swallows from the straw, then washed it down with a swig of Jack as she tilted the bottle for him.
"How are your hands?"
He tested them by pressing his palms together, then flinched at the light pressure. "Shit!"
Buffy sighed heavily. She could definitely relate.
Just to give herself something to occupy her own hands, she packed up the game and shoved the box
under her bed.
"I'm sorry, luv."
She gave him a questioning look. "For..?"
"For not being able to see to you properly."
He sounded so dejected that she couldn't bear it. She crawled up on the bed beside him, being careful
not to accidentally brush against his hands.
"Don't worry," she said, giving him a chaste kiss. "You can make it up to me later. I'm not going anywhere."
She tried to pull back, but he leaned forward, trying to capture her mouth again. "Buffy...don't kiss me like I'm your maiden aunt."
"I'm not!"
"You are so," he insisted. "Now do it again, and give me some tongue."
She could hardly refuse such a request. Turning to him, she straddled his lap and kissed him again, giving him all the tongue he could handle.
As she lingered in the kiss, she could feel him getting hard against her bottom. Before she could stop herself, she ground against him.
Spike's lower half jerked with surprise, automatically lifting to return the pressure. "Buffy! Baby...please," he begged.
Without thinking twice, she moved down and began unbuttoning his jeans.
"Take them off," he directed hoarsely.
She managed to peel them down his thighs, but couldn't get them over his combat boots. After considering the problem, she stood up and swung his legs to the side.
Facing away from him, she anchored her feet and grabbed one boot, lifting it until she could straddle
it. She untied the laces and tried to pull it off, but the damn thing was stubborn.
Spike chuckled. "Bend over."
She complied, and her nightshirt rode up over her hips.
He placed his boot on her bare bottom, pushing against it while he withdrew his foot.
Buffy dropped it, then picked up his other boot and unlaced it.
"Such a soft, pretty little ass you have, Slayer," he murmured, placing his bare foot on her naked cheek
and pushing.
Tossing his footwear aside, she whipped his jeans off and sent them flying as well.
"Come back up here, now."
A shiver danced up and down her spine. Bedroom voice, all the way.
"Touch me."
He was long and thick, with velvety skin wrapped around a bar of solid iron.
Buffy seized him in her hand, pumping him a few times.
Spike released a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a grunt, and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered. "Like that."
She squeezed and fondled him, playing with pace and pressure. The head of his cock was swollen, oozing
a drop of pearly fluid.
"Stop," he said, opening his eyes. "Take off your nightgown. I want to see you."
Buffy discarded the garment willingly. The heat in his eyes was doing wonders for her ego, and she arched her back a little, thrusting her breasts forward.
"Closer," was his next request. "I want to suck them."
She bent over, rubbing herself against his cheek.
The invitation was clear. He accepted it, and began tonguing her nipples to hardness.
Losing himself in the heady pleasure he was finding at her breast, he forgot everything else...including his disabled hands.
Spike reached for her, and was promptly given a painful reminder. He jerked back, releasing her breast from his mouth, afraid he might bite her.
"Shit!" he snarled, his features contorting. "Shit, shit, shit...fucking son of a bitching...shit!"
Buffy felt the same way. Her frustration level was bad enough, but Spike's had to be sky high. He had to deal, not only with frustration, but with pain as well.
"I'm fucking useless!" he spat. "Can't even touch my girl...give her what she needs. Goddammit!"
He sounded so unhappy that she couldn't stand it. Casting around for a solution to the problem, she glanced down...and found it.
"Spike. Look at me."
He opened his eyes as she wrapped her fingers around his erect penis.
"Touch me...with this."
Part Two...
Spike's eyes widened with surprise at her words, then the lovely blue became darker with need and desire.
Buffy grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a kneeling position. Lying down where he had been, she had him straddle her waist. When she had him where she wanted him, she took hold of his erection and gently tugged him further up her body.
Beginning at her hairline, she traced the tip of his shaft down her forehead. She outlined her brows, then fluttered her eyelashes against it, making him gasp sharply.
Retaining her gentle hold, she moved him down a bit, caressing the satin of her cheeks. Avoiding her lips for the moment, she continued along the line of her jaw.
He tried to center himself, but she was in charge and gave him a scolding look.
"Buffy," he whined. "You're fucking torturing me here."
"You're a big boy," she grinned up at him. "You can
take a little torture."
Despite her words, she felt sorry for him being in so much pain on her behalf. Besides, the pout on his face was absolutely adorable.
Moistening her lips, she drew his penis along first the upper and then the lower one.
Spike sighed happily, and deposited a little moisture of his own, which her tongue immediately cleaned off.
"Are you having fun?" she asked him.
He nodded. "Most fun I've had all day." His hips swayed in a gentle rhythm as he anointed her face with more clear fluid.
"MM...how are your hands?"
"What hands?" he asked, smiling rather stupidly.
Buffy's hand slid up and down, urging out more drops of semen. She smeared them around the head of his
organ, making it slick.
"Moving right along.." she murmured.
She slid up a little, taking his erection and rubbing it down the center of her throat, all the way to the
shallow cup at it's base.
"Come on," he said impatiently. "Keep going."
Buffy smiled wickedly. "Keep going...where?"
"You know damn well, where...now do it!"
Her brows drew together in a frown. "You're sounding awfully bossy, you know. Maybe I should just stop
and let you think about...."
"No!" he almost shouted. "I'm sorry. Please don't stop..I'll be nice, cross my heart. Please."
Satisfied with his contrition, whether it was real or feigned, Buffy moistened the tip of his cock with her saliva, then drew a wet line over the plump curves of her breast. Down between them, she went, smiling at the soft sounds of pleasure coming from his throat.
Wetting him more with his own juices, she arched her back and rubbed her hard nipple against his glans.
"Oh...oh, fuck...Buffy...more...give me more," he moaned.
She repeated the movements on her opposite nipple, feeling her own thrill of pleasure at the intimate
touch.
"Mmm...oh, baby. Feels so good...so soft," he said, his hips thrusting forward. "Push your tits together," he instructed her. "I'm gonna fuck them."
The way he was talking was arousing her almost as much as the feel of what he was doing. She waited until he was securely grounded, then placed her hands on the outer curves of her breast and pressed them together, enveloping his cock in the soft mounds of flesh he loved to spend time kissing and touching.
******************************
Spike had an attraction to her breasts that was almost obsessive. After her return from heaven, he had been appalled at how bone thin she had gotten during the 'Glory' mess, and had made it his particular mission to "put some meat back on her scrawny little bones."
Every time they went out to patrol, he took her somewhere afterwards and plied her with fattening desserts. He learned from Dawn that she had a serious need for chocolate, and he outdid himself finding new ways to feed it to her.
And Spike didn't just go to the market and grab a box of Hostess Cupcakes. He tempted and teased her
with treasures he found in small, out-of-the-way bakeries and restaurants.
Bavarian cream eclairs...chocolate crepes filled with french vanilla ice cream...Sacher torte cakes...he fed her a steady diet of the yummy treats, slowly but surely replacing the weight she had dropped, until her body was once again firm and well rounded.
In spite of all the bitching she had done about it, claiming that he just wanted to make her fat so that no one else would want her, she never turned down his offerings.
As it happened, the first time she'd told him that she loved him, he had brought her a box of dark chocolate truffles with raspberry liqueur centers. When one of the candies was literally melting on her tongue, she had looked at him in sheer greedy delight and said those three little words.
His shock at hearing them had been almost as great as hers when she'd realized that she meant it.
So, the breasts that had become almost non-existent during that sad, frightening phase of her life, were now perfect examples of what he called the three Fs; full, firm, and fuckable.
As far as he was concerned, they were there for him to play with...and he played with them every chance he got. From quick groping squeezes on top of her clothes when no one else was looking, to long and leisurely hours spent naked in bed while he explored her inch by inch, he was a devoted worshiper at the
altar of Buffy.
Which, of course, made Buffy pretty damn happy.
******************************
Normally, when Spike performed this mock intercourse between Buffy's breasts, he was the one to hold them in position for his vigorous thrusts. All she had to do was lie there and watch as his features went slack with pleasure, and to occasionally lick the head of his penis when it popped up.
When he was ready to ejaculate, he would release her breasts and jack himself hard and fast, until his
load of semen spewed all over her skin.
It was messy, but it was also a lot of fun, for her as well as for him. Since her hands were free to do as
she pleased with, she would reach down between her legs and play with herself until she climaxed at the
same time he did.
But that wasn't going to work tonight. Her hands had a job to do, and his were out of commission. She
would have to wait her turn.
Spike was thrusting rhythmically. Sliding up and then down, his shaft was well lubricated by his come,
making things deliciously slippery.
"Come on," he groaned Leaning forward, he rested the insides of his wrists on the headboard as he began
pumping harder and faster. "Lick it...oh...oh, yeah...s'good, luv...so fucking good..."
He sucked in air that he didn't need, trying to keep his mind on his ultimate goal. "Uh...uh...uh," he grunted with every thrust.
Buffy watched him closely, waiting for the _expression that would signal the beginning of his orgasm.
When he gasped and jerked backwards, she took hold of him and began stroking his cock with no gentility
at all. After five firm yanks on his hard flesh, he emptied himself on her breasts, crying out her name.
******************************
She smiled as she rubbed his semen into her skin, then deliberately licked her fingers.
He was still as hard as a fence post, one of the benefits of vamp physiology that pleased her to no end.
"Now, you come and lie down here," she said when he opened his eyes and tried to focus on her. "It's my
turn to ride."
Part three.....
"You know this is killing me."
"You're already dead."
"Yeah. Good point."
Buffy situated herself on top of her lover, rubbing her sex against his hard abdomen. She could feel his
erection sliding up and down the cleft of her fanny as he raised and lowered his hips a little.
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, love. It's just that I hate not being able to touch you properly."
His blue laser gaze caught hers, and she knew without asking what he was getting ready to do. If he couldn't touch her with his hands...then he'd do it with his voice.
And if there was a man anywhere on the planet who had the qualifications for such a thing, it was Spike. His voice was as much a part of his sexuality as his penis was, and he knew how to use both for maximum effect.
"You know how much I love your skin...feeling it get warm and damp...having my fingers slide over it," he said, tilting his head to one side to gauge her reaction.
Buffy sighed deeply. She could listen to him speak for hours and not get tired of it. Not like in the old days, back when she couldn't shut him up fast enough.
"I have an idea," Spike added, giving her that cocky smile that made her heart beat a little faster. "You do it for me."
"Pardon?"
"I'll tell you what I want to touch...and you use your hands to do it for me."
Trust Spike to come up with a solution like this. He was endlessly inventive when it came to their sex life and Buffy was the fortunate beneficiary of his considerable talent.
Her eyes gleamed. At this point, she was up for anything, so she nodded agreeably.
Something new! She couldn't wait!
******************************
"Run your fingers through your hair...good...now slide your hands around the back of your neck...lift your
hair and hold it for a moment...mmm, beautiful...now, let it go...shake your head...no, I like it that way...makes you look kinda wild."
Spike's other favorite obsession...after her breasts...was her hair. He loved it, and he took every opportunity he could find to get his hands into it.
Joining her in the shower, he would wash it for her, massaging her scalp with whatever fragrant shampoo she had available, turning her into a puddle of mush with his tender touch.
Sometimes, he would take her brush out of her hand and run it carefully through her hair, being surprisingly gentle with the tangles, working them out instead of yanking them out the way she usually did.
In bed, after making love, he would stroke and caress it, bury his face in it, wrap it around his fingers...all while telling her how pretty it was, how much he loved the color and the texture, the way it bounced around her face when they got particularly wild. Inhaling the scent, he would beg her never to cut it.
In fact, all she had to do to get her way about something, was threaten to cut it. Although, she suspected that he was going to call that little bluff someday soon.
At the moment, it was the longest it had ever been, nearly reaching her waist. She had long ago stopped trying to force it into an unnatural shade of blond, and the thick honey brown strands were strong and shining with health and vitality.
"Good girl...now, run your fingertips down the sides of your neck...slowly...that's right...such soft skin...touch it for me...go a little lower...a bit more..."
She felt him harden even further against her bottom.
"Slide your hands beneath your breasts...lift them...now let them go...make them bounce...oh, fucking hell...do it again...good...push them together..."
Buffy followed his instructions, purposely not doing anything until he told her to. Her breasts were aching to be squeezed and fondled, but she fought off the urge to do it herself...waiting.
"Get your fingers wet...lick them...now, let me have a taste...mmmm...more...oh,
you taste sweet, baby...that's good...ah-ah-ah...not yet...wait...don't pout...all right, then...touch your nipples with the tips of your fingers...rub them...harder, now...oh, yeah...squeeze them...give 'em a little tug...feels good, huh?"
"Uh-huh," she uttered breathlessly. "Feels real good."
He gave her a speculative look. "Don't get too used to it, Slayer...soon as my hands are good to go that'll be
MY job again."
Buffy just smiled. "How are they feeling?"
"Better by the minute," he assured her. "You ready to move down...or do you want to play with your tits a little more?"
"It's up to you," she replied, shrugging.
"Right, then...slide your hands down your sides...now around back and down...grab your ass and squeeze it...give it a little slap...not too hard...don't want you bruising yourself...raise up on your knees...spread 'em a bit more...good...now move your hands between your legs."
Buffy stroked the thin skin of her inner thighs in a
lingering caress.
"Now...show me your pussy...lean back a little...use your fingers and open it up for me...Christ, you're wet...all pretty and pink...play with your clit...harder, love...that's it...slip one finger inside...and another one...in and out, now...faster..."
She was almost unable to maintain her balance.
"Buffy...reach down and take hold of my dick...like that, yeah...put it where it needs to be...oh, fuck yes...rub it against you...now...slide down on it...slowly, babe...I want to see it slide in...right into that tight little box of yours...all the way...grind yourself down on it..."
When he was fully seated inside of her, Buffy released his cock and used her fingers to open her labia again.
"That's good...up and down, love...again...a little faster...come on...fuck yourself on my cock...oh, yeah...fucking hell, yes...ahhh...grind it in, baby...you know what I like...ride me hard...fuck me...fuck me good...yeah...do it..."
Buffy bounced on him, helped by lifts of his strong thighs. So close...she was so damn close.
"Buffy...baby...I'm gonna come..."
Good. So was she.
"Reach...around...play with...my balls...ahh...your hot little...hand...more...that's it...fuck...yeah...gonna do it...now...ah...ahh...OH
FUCK...YEAH!"
She was too disoriented to see that he had allowed his demon to emerge and was using his fangs to shred the gauze wrapped around his hands.
But just at the moment she began to fall over the edge, she felt his fingers on her clit, rubbing it wildly to help her climax with him.
Unable to hold it back another second, she came hard, calling his name.
When she clamped down on his cock, her strong internal muscles began milking his come out of him...and into her.
Locked in spasms of orgasmic abandon, Spike reached up and grabbed Buffy's shoulders. He yanked her down roughly, then rolled over until he was on top of her and continued thrusting and pumping until he had nothing more to give.
******************************
"What now?...oh, you've got to be joking...aren't you tired?"
"Not one bit, love. My hands are working just fine, and I can touch you again. You know what THAT means?"
"I'm afraid to ask...what?"
"Means we've gotta start all over again."
Buffy gave him a disbelieving look, then shrugged.
"Sounds good to me."
Grinning impishly, he grabbed the long strips of gauze. She watched in bemusement as he tied one end of each strip around the wrought iron headboard, and the other around her wrists.
"This time," he said, giving her a wink. "You're the one who can't use her hands."
THE END
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