Lover's Run
by Megan/Peta
Rating:NC-17
Disclaimer: All hail Joss.
Summary: It's a kidnap fic
Warnings: well, you could easily take this the wrong way. Could be considered
rape, but tongue in my cheek, not yours. Also, beware of cliches. It's
riddled, I'm sure.
Thanks: to BSB for her fantastic last minute saving.
She’d always suspected that she
had to be ready for the unexpected, but this was kinda pushing it.
Buffy at first refused to open
her eyes, instead trying to use her senses to work out what the hell she’d
managed to get caught in this time. Half of her body felt cold, and oddly
overly sensitised. One tiny move of her leg and she came to the most alarming
conclusion that she was naked.
Ooookay. That was…freaky, but
she could deal. Next then. The cold feeling—a small shift and a moan and she
made startling conclusion number two. Not alone. And cold. OMG! Vampire,
her brain screamed, and yet she kept her eyes jammed tightly closed.
Next sensation,
she thought almost wildly, praying that memory would strike
soon and she wasn’t going to find she was naked, lying down against a very feral
Angelus. ‘Cause that hard thing poking her in the thigh, so wasn’t a torch.
Not with the wet weepy stuff painting her skin with ickyness.
There was a dull pain in her neck
and a fire in her crotch—which she so was praying didn’t mean what she thought
it did. Touch was needed now, and as Buffy placed her warm hand between her
legs, cupped her bare pussy and came away dry, she didn’t know whether to be
happy, or depressed. The heat was escalating though as she felt a reverent
licking at her throat, and then she realised she had fangs lodged there, slowly
sucking her blood and firing up her body.
Buffy’s eyes shot open as a hand
swept softly over her belly and settled where her own had just been. She didn’t
see anything—it was all black, and in some strange world where she wasn’t a
responsible slayer, she was weirdly okay with that.
Cool hands separated her lips and
slipped into her wetness. Fingers wiggling inside her as fangs lingered in her
throat. Buffy’s feet slipped up the bed, bracing against the rough covering as
she moved her hips to a position for more. As a thumb brushed her clit and she
felt like jumping into the sky, images from before she was knocked out began to
replay behind her eyes.
Angel, pummelled by vamps and
buried under the magic shop’s door. Spike kicking him in the head and then
choking the breath from her body. Oh. By the time she’d gathered the sense to
react, she could feel something else probing at her slickened entry and a
respectful weight lowering itself over the top of her. A cock entered her as
the fangs retracted, and Buffy couldn’t help but be thrilled at the overwhelming
itch as her walls expanded and made way for the smooth intruder. He rubbed back
and forth with a maddening slowness, tongue licking her neck and then kissing a
path to her shoulders.
Her nipples ached and just as she
was about to scream, blunt teeth clamped around one and sucked wildly. It was
hot, and as the coolness of his cock rubbed warm within her, Buffy felt a lack
of need to actually know who it was.
It was wild, forbidden, and
hello! Vampire. But it felt so good, and it stroked some fire in her that had
simmered away for a year with no real hope of being quenched till now. And this
being was soothing her rather well.
There was purring, and if that
wasn’t the sexiest thing she’d ever heard, then she wasn’t Buffy the Vampire
Slayer Layer. She could think in terms like that, right? Her only two
experiences were with vamps, it seemed to be a trend. And hey, as long as he
kept that cock moving and stirring the flame inside, she was absolutely with the
okay.
Buffy felt the soft, cool
undersides of upper arms and elbows as they settled just above her shoulders,
gathering leverage to settle more fully over the top of her. Hands tangled in
her hair, and despite not having a clue with whom she was so intimately joined,
she saw in her mind clear blue eyes that burned her to her soul. Brown appeared
too murky in her imagination—too boring and nowhere near decadent or passionate.
A cool chest brushed against her
nipples and she could feel the muscles of his belly as he swept back and forth
over her. That was so it. She was sick of her hands being inactive and lying
there like a lump while she was being pounded unmercilessly.
Buffy arched her back so as to
feel more of that sweet torturous coolness, and then wound her legs around slim
hips. The skin felt smooth, and without any thought to what she was doing, her
arms sought her stranger’s back, nails digging holes as her pleasure almost
melted her brain.
Was she some kind of slayer ho
for loving this? For feeling the rush of letting go and being found attractive
by someone she didn’t know? Mentally shrugging, Buffy decided to have the
mental breakdown about it later. For now, she was consumed in the moment. Cool
air brushed against her skin as a groan swept across her neck.
And then there were lips.
She somehow hadn’t expected that,
and now that the moment had obviously appeared, she took seconds of being
completely grossed out before a tongue wormed its way into her mouth and she
suddenly found it erotic and nowhere near nasty.
She hoped and prayed she felt the
same when she had the courage to remove the blindfold and see her bed buddy.
Meanwhile, she dived into the kiss, feeling the same hunger her partner seemed
to as they fought each other. For dominance? She didn’t know, just releasing
herself to the sensation of cool tongue tracing her lips, sucking them in as he
gently nibbled his way around her mouth.
“Mmmmm, Spike.” She recoiled,
horrified and wondering where that demented thought had come from, but then the
growl against her breast sent her rigid body into shuddering particles of lust
and she suddenly didn’t care how that name popped up in relation to being fucked
within an inch of her life.
It was just logical. He was the
last vamp she’d seen—other than Angel, and if this had been her boyfriend she
could well have suffered being bitten just about now for calling him THAT name.
That tasty vampiric growl sent
her to
And then he threw himself into
it—ripped off the black blindfold made of his torn tee and stared hard into
slayer eyes as his pelvis pumped his shaft into her. Despite being on the edge,
craving to come hard and fast, he took the risk, allowing the Slayer to see him
as he fucked her blind.
Ridges cracked his face and fangs
dropped and salivated. Yet he didn’t dive for her throat, watched instead the
play of emotions over her face. The lust made him purr, but he hated the
confusion. There was nothing confusing about it. He knew, and now so did she.
He had her and she wouldn’t ever
go back to Angel after him.
Muscles tightened around him and
he felt the grip almost tear his cock from his body.
She held him tight—and he
couldn’t move, just whimpered as her muscles pulsed frantically around him and
finishing his action. He couldn’t hold back, rubbed his palms over her nipples
as he eyed his marks on her neck.
“See me, baby. Not big, not
brooding. Totally hot for you.” And he shoved his cock in her deep before
pausing, thanking his maker that she stopped flexing for the vital second it
took for him to get further in. “An’ even if I’m not here tomorrow, you can bet
if I was I’d want you over and over again. Don’t you bloody forget it.”
The end was near and he could
feel her sweat, see how wide her eyes were as he tweaked a bud and led her
screaming into his favourite place.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it
through. Spike will take care of you.” And he was on her neck, biting again
over his healing marks as she bucked at him in orgasm. Blood splashed to the
back of his throat and he almost blacked out with the pleasure, belatedly
noticing the scream of Buffy in his ear.
One more thrust shut her voice up
and he felt his cock almost take off the tip in its rush to release the build-up
of fluid. Her legs tightened around his middle, nails clawing his back…and then
she laughed. Free. Elated. Beautiful.
It was joyous, left him awestruck
as he felt the slow come down of his own high. Laughing all around him.
The fear was awful. He never
felt fear. He kissed her once and gave her one longing look before he was up,
running from whatever strangeness had settled in his head and heart.
Dru was off her rocker—she
couldn’t be right about this. Laughing. What the bloody hell did it mean?
Frantic looks around the room
located an empty bottle or two of booze, and his gear.
“Now, the next time bloody Dru
tells me she sees the Slayer all around me, she’ll have some fact to back it up
with.” He smirked and cockily slipped himself back in his pants, snapping them
back together before threading his belt back on. Shoes, coat and he was at the
door, blowing her a kiss and staring at her naked, bitten and ravaged body.
“Toodles, sweets.”
And William the Bloody was gone.
Just as well. She didn’t think she had the energy to find a stake.