Rhapsody In Oil

By Eurydice

Chapter Twelve: Doin' What Comes Naturally

Panic rose in her throat like bile, and Buffy couldn’t help the sudden anxiety that twisted her gut, widening her hazel eyes as she stared up at Spike, his own gaze glittering sapphires as the muscles in his jaw twitched. She’d seen that face before, had fought it more than once, witnessed its slide into demon as the vampire went in for the kill. Shit, her mind raced, what the hell have I gotten myself into…As her right hand balled into a fist, the young woman twisted her upper body to look back over her shoulder, intent on the silk scarf that held her.

“…Don’t…” His lips were on her ear, tongue darting out to trace the inner curve, and she froze, watching his long hand reach over her body to grasp her wrist, staying her escape. Buffy’s eyes fluttered closed as Spike caught the lobe between his teeth, biting it gently, tugging with inexorable vigor, his shoulders lying across hers, pressing her back into the mattress with an exigent weight that answered her own ravenous need. The whimper escaped her throat, and she felt his mouth follow its path down her neck. So intent on his actions, she almost missed the blond vampire’s second word. “…Please…”

The Slayer turned her head, looking down at the platinum curls as he settled at his favorite spot at the base of her neck, sucking at the pulse-point he found there, the sharp point of his tongue tapping against her skin in time with the pounding inside her flesh. He was…asking…? That wasn’t Spike’s style; see what you want, take what you want…that was his modus operandi. And he was the one who’d started all this; this was his game, not hers.

Oh, really? There it was again, that little voice that had nagged Buffy ever since their faux engagement back in Sunnydale. You didn’t have to accept his dare. All you had to do was walk out of the room.

Have I mentioned lately how much I hate you? the Slayer groused silently to her inner voice. She watched as the blond vampire lifted his head and met her steady gaze. Neither said a word; neither moved, frozen in their own tableau as the tacit accord passed between them. Where the length of his arm snaked along hers, a line of fire burned its path to her breast, enflaming the young woman both on the inside and out. They held that pose for seconds…

…a minute…

…then two…

…and languidly, Buffy’s fingers relaxed…eased from the fist she’d made…stopped the struggle against her bonds.

Almost tenderly, Spike’s head lowered yet again, his tongue running along the curve of her bottom lip, tracing her mouth with an animal grace before taking her lips with his. To the casual onlooker, the kiss might’ve seemed almost chaste, so simple in its execution, his mouth lingering over hers as he sucked away her breath. For the Slayer, it scalded, drenching her in waves of flame, and she felt an unquestionable loss when he pulled his body away.

The vampire’s hands danced over her flesh, fingers tracing the curve of her breast before cupping it, his thumb flicking over the hardened nipple. She gasped, only half-hearing his murmured, “Cor, Buffy, you are so beautiful.” As her eyelids fluttered shut, she saw his head come down, his teeth capturing the pink bud before sucking it hard against the roof of his mouth.

Time seemed to stop for the young woman, as the world became a cascade of icy tongues and feather fingertips, the blond vampire addressing every inch of her torso with cool precision, setting her skin ablaze while creeping lower…and lower. She squirmed against the onslaught, hips writhing…thrusting…legs desperate to curl themselves around his powerful shoulders and pull him in. “Spike…” she whispered, and felt his chuckle against her pelvis, a reverberating rumble that rippled into her bones, sending her clit aquiver.

He was only inches away from her sex, the musk heady…dizzying…and Spike had to struggle to contain the demon within, its need acute. Can’t hurt, he intoned silently. Mustn’t hurt…but the bright flare of a faraway possibility beckoned to him, willing him to dare…and he almost smiled as he realized its potential.

Laying between her legs, the vampire felt his own erection throb in rhythm with her heartbeat, and used the cadence as a guide as he spread apart her outer lips, separating the golden curls to expose her engorged clit…the tiny nub standing out above the Slayer’s pink inner labia. He felt her stiffen with the tension, waiting…anticipating his next move…even going so far as to hold her breath. Spike knew just how long to delay touching her, gauging his momentum from the erratic tempo emanating from her skin; the difficulty for him lay in controlling his own instincts to throw caution to the wind and fuck his promise of no penetration.

Just before he knew he was going to lose her, the platinum-haired vamp inhaled sharply before pursing his lips, directing a sharp stream of icy air onto her waiting clit. She bucked, straining against the bonds, before he could push her hips back down, bracing her with his muscular forearms, locking her into place to prevent her from moving again.

“What’s the point of tying you down if you keep moving?” he taunted, his voice barely audible as he lowered his mouth to her inner thigh. He wasn’t expecting a response---didn’t want one---and stopped her from doing so by nipping at the tender flesh where her leg merged with her pussy.

Her scent was overpowering and though he suspected he could go on like this for quite a while---teasing both her and him---the urge to devour her was growing with alarming haste, mounting within his skin like a pressure cooker. No reason to wait, he thought. As soon as his tongue darted out, though, catching the very tip of her clit with a purposeful lick, he knew…he was lost.

It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Oh, sure, she’d fantasized about it; what girl wouldn’t? But her reality came down to two men, both only one-time occurrences, neither affording her the opportunity to extend her sexual repertoire beyond anything other than the normal copulation. This, though…

She could feel his tongue curling around her clit, sucking at it…pulling…his cold fingers keeping their promise and stroking her outer lips…raking along her inner thigh. Thrusting her hips forward, Buffy’s gurgled cry filled the room, its desperation beckoning to him…begging him to fill her…damn if he hadn’t been right…

When his mouth left her wetness, sliding along the damp curls to lap at the skin of her leg, she almost screamed in frustration, forcing the scarves so tight that they cut into her wrists and ankles, threatening to give within moments if she were to utilize her Slayer strength. Spike’s hand shot up, pressed her back down onto the bed, then reached for her breast, rolling her nipple between two fingers as she shuddered in ecstasy.

Tiny, infinitesimal nibbles began dotting the flesh of her thigh, and the young woman began pushing back against the elusive strokes down her pussy, grinding against them as the nibbles became bites…

…the strokes more insistent…

…sliding up…then down…encircling her clit before flicking across its tip…

…the catch of his nail driving her over the edge as wave upon wave of pleasure rocketed through her body…

Recognizing his moment, Spike’s eyes closed, his jaw dropping as the ridges appeared in his forehead, his fangs gently breaking the tender skin as he sucked and rode Buffy’s orgasm...

Somewhere…deep within the recesses of her conscious…the Slayer felt the familiar sting of the vampire’s bite, but trapped within the fetters of her climax, the pull only added to her pleasure…augmenting the waves washing over her….throwing her against a fiery wall before sucking her back into their depths…

He didn’t need to come…not now…not with the Slayer’s blood seeping into his mouth, drowning him in memories of scarlet and pain as he lapped at the essence that was uniquely Buffy’s. As he felt the shudders wracking her body begin to lessen, he slowly retracted his teeth, easing back into his human mask, gold shifting to azure within a single blink. In terms of days, it really hadn’t been that long since Spike had fed on human blood, but somehow…it seemed an eternity since he’d supped on anything so potent…so intoxicating…Neither of the other Slayers he had killed had tasted like this, and while he would’ve sworn upon everything that was evil he’d drunk of the best, he knew now…that wasn’t true…

Slowly, the room began to stop spinning for the young woman, and she blinked once…twice…the reality of what had just happened only then beginning to seep into her consciousness. Oh god, she thought. What the hell was that? He’d…bitten her? How was that possible? But she knew, could answer that without even having to resort to listening to that annoying little voice.
It hadn’t hurt. Only pain in his victim set off Spike’s chip.

She swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat, the stickiness between her legs suddenly uncomfortable. He was still there; she could feel him hovering, could hear his skin slide across the satin sheet. “You…lied,” she said, her voice barely a breath.

“What?” It wasn’t what he was expecting…accusations, maybe…threats, most definitely…even silence. But this calm, out-of-the-blue statement…he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“You said…no penetration.” Buffy’s eyes closed, suddenly desperate not to see him. “I think…biting…counts.”

Spike eased himself off the foot of the bed, cinching his robe tighter around his waist. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t sorry about what he’d done; if she was expecting an apology, she’d be waiting forever, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to happen.

“You know I should stake you.”

For a brief second, the vampire felt fear grip his stomach, twisting the knife that already seemed embedded there, but just as quickly, it disappeared. She’d said…should, not will.

Keeping his gaze averted, Spike reached for the scarf at the foot of the bed, undoing the knots in silence, sliding the silk from her ankle. A ring of crimson encircled her flesh and before he could stay the instinct, the vampire had leaned over, running his cool mouth over the reddened skin, alleviating the slight burn by adding his tongue to the equation. Buffy watched as he repeated the process on the other side, then stepped to the bedstead to free her bindings there as well. “Will the bite…leave a scar?” she asked softly.

His face was stolid. “Shouldn’t,” he replied, just as quietly. “I was…careful.”

With her hands now free, the Slayer pulled herself up into a sitting position, drawing up her legs to look down at her inner thigh. He was right; the tiny scarlet pinpricks were barely there, and she knew there would be little evidence of his feeding once her healing capabilities kicked in. “That’s a relief,” she said, almost with a smile. “I think my puppy-bit-me excuse would be kind of…inappropriate for this one.” Quickly, Buffy closed her legs, drawing her knees up to her chest in an attempt to hide her nudity. “I don’t suppose…you’d let me borrow a shirt or something?” she asked, hesitatingly.

His cerulean gaze tilted his head as he glanced back at her, the tiny line between his heavy brows. “You’re…stayin’?”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Well, yeah.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Am I missin’ somethin’ here? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn that this would be the point I’d be lyin’ here in a bloody pulp.”

Buffy shrugged. “Well, if you want me to beat you up, I guess I can do it. Have to tell you though, I’m kinda tired. Won’t be the best fight we’ve ever had.”

Spike’s jaw opened, closed with an audible click, then opened again. “I’m goin’ to ask, and I’m probably goin’ to regret it, but damned if I can suss it out. What the hell is happenin’ here? You’re the Slayer. You’re supposed to be all self-righteous and pissed off ‘cause I took advantage of you. Hell, I drank from you, Buffy. That should warrant at least a punch in the nose.”

“Because…” She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing pulse. Just say it, she thought. Get it over with. “…you didn’t. Take advantage of me, I mean. I was asking for it.”

He cocked his scarred eyebrow. “You didn’t ask for me to bite you.”

“Well, technically, no, you’re right. But…” She swallowed, ducking her head. “…I was asking for you, Spike. I wanted you. I knew what I was getting myself into. And it…didn’t hurt. So…no harm, no foul…right?” She snuck a look at his confused face out of the corner of her hazel eyes. “If it’ll make you feel any better, you ever tell Giles what happened here, I’ll stake you in a heartbeat, OK?”

The vampire couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from his lips. Now that was the Buffy he knew.

*************

She’d been lying about feeling tired. Although the orgasm had been like nothing she’d ever experienced before, Buffy felt more alive than she’d felt in ages, her skin still tingling even now, half an hour after the fact. Behind her, Spike curled against her back, his arm thrown protectively around her waist, his semi-hard cock nestled in the crack of her ass. As she burrowed down into her pillow, the vampire growled, tightening his grip, his mouth coming to the back of her neck to nuzzle her hair.

“You’re not sleeping,” he murmured.

“Neither are you,” she replied.

“I’m not the one who said I was knackered.”

Buffy giggled. “How did the English ever get knackered from tired? What a stupid word.”

“Bloody great word,” Spike argued. “Got a real bite to it.”

“So sayeth the vampire.”

“Listen, if you’re not goin’ to sleep…” She felt his cock twitch against her, his hand start to slide down her belly.

Buffy slapped at his fingers. “You had your chance. You said you didn’t need to…you know.”

“And you said you wanted to sleep,” the vamp laughed. “You expect to tempt me like this and not make me want more? Should just send you back to your own room. Make you sleep on your own.”

“You’re the one who asked me to stay.”

“And so the selective memory begins,” Spike said. “I only asked you to stay after you said you wanted to, pet.”

“I can still go.” She almost cringed when his arm disappeared, and Buffy wondered for the millionth time since coming into the room when she’d starting caring about where the blond vampire was or what he was doing. She’d shocked herself with her response to his earlier actions, but couldn’t argue with how…right it felt. God, this has got to be a spell, she thought desperately, as she reached around and grabbed his hand, pulling it back around her waist, pressing herself back into him with a satisfied whimper. That’s the only thing that could explain this. Magic…

*************

He didn’t get it. She should’ve run; she should’ve staked his ass long before now. There was no reason he should be lying here, holding a naked Slayer in his arms, sated with human blood for the first time in weeks, hoping against hope that morning would never come. And, to top it all off, even after giving her the opportunity to leave, removing his hold from her glorious shape so that she could exit gracefully…she had chosen to physically replace his arm around her, to snuggle against him, to…stay.

Turning down her offer for his own release had almost been a simple choice. Neither of them was ready for that kind of drastic change in their relationship; whether Buffy realized it or not, once that step was taken, there would be no going back. Not that he wanted to at this point, but bugger if he was going to take that choice away from her now.

It had happened. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know when. He only knew…

…she walked into a room and he couldn’t even think of looking at anyone else…

…he touched her and the itch to claim her as his own crawled over his skin…

…she turned those luminous hazel eyes to look at him and the world melted away…

…somewhere…somehow…

…Spike had fallen in love with Buffy Summers, the vampire slayer…

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