Green eyes sparked in annoyance as Buffy glanced at her watch again. Half past seven.
Spike was late.
She shivered, the black silk top suddenly feeling too cold on her exposed skin. She’d slipped on the wicked looking material, quickly recognizing it would be appreciated by Spike. She’d finished her outfit with faded ripped jeans, perfect for a movie-night.
Except there didn’t seem to be a movie night.
She flopped onto the bed, jolting Rocky awake. Mewling a protest, he arched his back to stalk off, scouring for a new place he could sleep undisturbed.
“Great,” she muttered. “Even the cat doesn’t want to spend time with me.”
Oh God. Here she was feeling sorry for herself because she wished her demon lover had kept their date? He might be extraordinarily handsome, with strength and power emanating from his presence, but he was still a vampire.
A killer.
A killer, who had asked her to become like him.
And since that night, Buffy had been… tempted.
The thought of the two of them as creatures of the night was somewhat desirable, sending satisfaction humming through her veins. Danger was a feeling Buffy had always savoured. The idea that she could join him as an equal sent illicit thrills up her spine.
A velvety dark voice began to whisper.
You could be free. Free from this wretched life of duty…
Buffy shook her head, furiously trying to silence those thoughts away.
You would have no one to dictate how your life would be. Nothing but Spike and freedom… the voice hissed.
“No!” Buffy yelled angrily. Shivering, she sat up straight. “No,” she whispered again.
She would not submit to the dark pleasures of Spike. She had to be strong.
What then should she do? Night by night, her resolve faltered, and she inched that little bit closer to giving into Spike and his whims.
Maybe, just maybe Buffy could bring out his goodness? Balance out his darkness with her light?
A hopeful smile played across her lips.
She would try.
Scrambling off the bed, she ran to the bathroom to check her appearance. Dashing on some strawberry lip balm, she quickly ran a brush through her tousled blond locks until it shined. The routine actions made her switch off from her troubles and provided her worried mind with a reprieve.
Yet still she remained troubled.
Hiding from the fear that threatened to consume her – the realization that her dark impulses were simply growing stronger.
***
Spike ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. Bloody minions, he thought angrily. Making me late for my girl. Idiots.
Panting for un-needed breath, he skidded to a halt before her door, quickly dismissing the guard that stood ever present. Bursting in, he held out his arm to wave his apologies.
“I know, I know – I’m late! But, pet, ’m so sorry. The damn minions decided to have a scrap an’ I had to sort the pillocks out. C’mon lets not fight…”
“I’m not mad,” she called cheerily from the bathroom.
Spike raised one scarred eyebrow in disbelief.
“You alright, pet? Bumped that pretty head of yours whilst I was gone?”
Buffy walked into the bedroom with a scowl.
“Fine, be an ass! Make me angry at you. Whatever.”
“Kitten’s got her claws out tonight I see,” Spike drawled, obviously amused.
“Yeah, and she wants to slice that smirk off your goddamn face,” she muttered irritably, snatching a DVD to jam it into the player.
“Mmm,” Spike had suddenly appeared at her neck and began nuzzling her exposed skin. “My feisty Slayer. You excite me so. Tell me, luv,” he murmured, pressing kisses down to her collarbone. “Do I excite you also?”
Buffy felt her irritation melt away, arching back into his hard, unyielding body. Her hurried breathing was music to Spike’s ears, and he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her petite frame upright. One hand trailed down to her shoulder, gently brushing aside the strap of her top.
She moaned, feeling his growing erection straining thick across her back.
She just couldn’t fight him, nor fight his touch. Her only hope was by giving into her traitorous feelings, she would change Spike for the better.
Breathless and a little bit dizzy, she stumbled onto the bed. Spike growled, displeased to find his arms suddenly empty of an aroused Slayer.
Moving forward like the predator he was, he flexed his arms to shrug off his duster.
“You still haven’t answered me, Slayer.”
His voice was low and husky.
“Do…”
He toed off his boots.
“I…”
He then pulled off his black t-shirt to reveal a chiselled torso.
Staring directly into her eyes, he played with the button of his jeans before undoing it, and inching the zipper down with excruciating slowness.
“Excite you,” he finished, standing in front of her.
Buffy swallowed audibly, unable to look away. The voice re-appeared, whispering delicious words into her ear.
Take him. He is yours.
“You excite me,” she whispered, her green eyes growing dark.
His eyes narrowed, promising all kinds of wicked pleasure.
“Let me excite you more.”
****
“No!” Buffy’s cry startled them both.
She tore her gaze away from Spike and huddled on the bed shaking slightly. The dark thoughts were bombarding her, demanding that she take what was rightfully hers.
Excitement. Spike. Freedom.
She needed to calm down, to take this slower. She needed control.
“Pet? What’s wrong?”
Spike began to worry. Tension rolled off his girl in waves, mingling with the power surrounding her tiny body. The pull of their bond was so strong, and he ached to finally possess her, end this game of cat and mouse. Yet he had to be patient.
And right now, his mate was confused and upset. He had to soothe her, and ease her pain.
Erection be damned.
Moving slowly forward, he quickly did up his jeans and reached out for the Slayer.
“I’m going too fast aren’t I pet?” he rumbled, smoothing her hair back from her face.
Buffy shuddered, snuggling into his embrace.
“Sorry,” came her muffled reply. “It’s a bit overwhelming, you know?”
Spike nodded, soothing purrs rumbling from his chest.
“It’s okay. We can go as slow as you want. Or, if you change you’re mind, just as fast,” he added with a chuckle.
Buffy peeked out from under his arm to swat him round the head.
Breathing deeply, she slowly began to ease the desire gripping her body.
“How come you’re being all ‘sensitive-guy’ about this?” she asked suspiciously.
Spike shrugged, and carried on stroking her hair.
“I’m willing to wait for what’s mine.”
She stiffened; delight sparking through her body at that remark. The possessive tone of his voice that had been terrifying, now thrilled her. A delicious heat pooled between her legs, making her shift uncomfortably.
God, how she wanted him!
The ferocity in which he staked his claim on her, was so thrilling.
Spike watched the play of emotions on her face curiously.
Ha! She wants me. She just can’t admit it. Stubborn bint. She wears her emotions on her sleeve.
Buffy quickly regained her composure, with another biting remark honed by years of high-school.
“You know, this “I Tarzan, you Jane” thing is getting really old. You need to realise that this just isn’t happening Spike.”
Spike merely grinned, flashing his fangs.
He knew better.
“Sure pet. Sure.”
****
The night went smoothly, with talk of their relationship finally discarded.
Buffy had cajoled Spike into watching her choice of DVD after all; Pretty Woman. Spike had made several crude comments about the outfits that Julia Roberts was sporting.
“Sure that I can’t persuade you to wear that get-up?” he waggled his tongue at her.
Giggling, she reached over to punch him in the arm.
“Only if you quit wearing the seventies get up. You modernize, I’ll… hookerize. Deal?”
Spike tackled her to the ground, cushioning her fall with his own body. She wriggled beneath him, before pulling his head down so she could kiss him.
Hot, wet drugging kisses that made him moan and clutch her closer.
Letting her gasp for air, he released her lips, golden eyes narrowing in intensity.
“You’ve got yourself a deal, pet.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Firstly, to anyone who is reading this after following my story - a huge THANK YOU and an apology. I now have a saviour in the form of Im_Bloody_English, who quite simply put is fantastic.
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