“Closing time, gather up your jackets and mooove out innnto the woooorrld” sounded from Buffy’s purse almost as soon as they were outside. She pried her lips off of his just long enough to fish around for it. With a sigh she stopped the ringer and turned it off.
“The bartender?” the white haired man asked. Oh god! The white-haired man? I don’t even know his name!
“Yeah,” she answered.
“Clever ring.”
“Thanks.” Then he was kissing her again and somehow simultaneously opening the back door of a cab. He slid in first, however, and quickly instructed the cabbie to the Regent Hotel before pulling Buffy in after him. And then his soft, ridiculously soft, lips were on hers again.
“Mmmf… what’s your name, anyway?” she twisted away long enough to ask.
He tilted his head to the right and gave her a strange look. “Spike,” he replied in likewise strange tone of voice.
“Oh. I’m…”
“Buffy, yeah.” Then he was kissing her yet again, long and languidly, at once both tender and fierce.
Pushy, it occurred to her to think. But that’s okay... god, he’s like an expert at this.
And, his hands were slowly getting braver and more ambitious, sliding up her sides, tentatively squeezing her breast, sliding back down, tracing her leg just at the hem of her dress. With every strategic, barely-there touch, she arched or moaned, squeezed his hair in her hands—his unbelievably soft, unnaturally colored hair that had started all of this in the first place—and grew steadily more passionate in her own kisses.
Soon his fingers were treading lightly up her thigh, grazing against the seams of her barely-there anyway panties.
“Mmmmf,” she said. He was getting really annoyed with that sound, as it always signaled a sudden pull-away on her part. “Do you have any of the things?” Worry briefly clouded her big green eyes. “You know… for protection?” she clarified for the sake of his furrowed brow and mystified gaze.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered, though not as if he were angry, but more as if he’d just realized that he, in fact, did not have any of the things… you know… for protection. “Pull over at the next gas station, mate,” he called up to the front of the cab.
Buffy fidgeted relentlessly while he was in the store. The phrase: “Oh my God, what am I doing?” had just begun to form in her mind when he leapt back into the cab and pulled her to him once again. Then all conscious thought faded away as he kissed her with twice the confidence—and insistence—as he had previously.
She barely remembered being pulled through the hotel lobby by her waist, but she very much remembered the elevator, and how he pressed a button, inserted a key (Oh. One of those floors), then pressed her up against the mirrored elevator wall, his body coming into full contact with hers for the first time. She remembered, vividly, how impossibly hard his… that… had felt against her. One of her legs instinctively came up and hooked slightly around his. He caught it by the thigh, pressed closer still, and moved his mouth to her earlobe, where he nibbled for a moment before moving on to her neck even as his palm moved slowly up her thigh… then around to her ass, that was almost bare, thanks to the thong. He squeezed as the elevator dinged, and then he was away and she was being pulled out of the elevator and down a hallway to a door.
A door that was opened and shut, quick as a flash, and then she was pressed up against it, his mouth back on hers, his hands running up her sides, squeezing both breasts gently and running his thumbs over her already hardened nipples as a low moan escaped his throat.
She pushed his coat off his shoulders and immediately started clawing at his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. She was fumbling with his belt when his fingers found the zipper to her dress. She nimbly stepped over it after it had fallen to the floor.
His hands were back on her hips and he was pulling her to another door. Another door? Oh, it’s a suite. And this other door must be to the… bedroom. Gulp.
By the time he’d gotten her to said other door, she’d finished her task with the belt and made quick work of the button and zipper. He sprang eagerly into her waiting hand, that barely fit around it in the first place, and her eyes flew open and grew wide as she slid her hand up his length. And up. And up. And…
“Woah,” she whispered, looking down, almost involuntarily. He couldn’t help but grin. That reaction never got old.
“Up here, pet,” he whispered, placing a finger underneath her chin to lift her lips back to his. And bloody hell if he couldn’t get enough of those lips. Soft and candy-sweet.
She was suddenly nervous. She didn’t think she was ready for this—for that—for the massive thing her hand was slowly stroking and squeezing as if it had a mind of its own, and coincidentally, as if it were currently attempting to memorize every inch, every contour of the pulsing, warm length it thought itself very fortunate to be attending to.
The grip on her hips grew urgent as he kicked back against the bedroom door, sending it flying open.
Then there was no more time for misgivings, because suddenly she was on the bed and he was looming over her, and she didn’t even know how he’d gotten his jeans completely off without breaking contact with her or her lips.
Her skimpy little thong was still there, though, and two of his fingers were sliding over her inside of it, teasing her clit only a little before finding exactly what they were looking for—her silky, wet opening.
“Fuck you’re wet,” he groaned in her ear as his fingers rubbed and teased her slit before slowly venturing inside.
“Unnnh,” she replied as he pumped his fingers in small, slow circles, hooking them slightly on the upshot. Her legs spread wider around him and she thrust her hips gently against his hand. He worked her slowly, gently, until he felt the tightness encircling his fingers start to give.
She heard the crinkle of packaging. She felt his weight shift as he pulled his hand away and lifted the condom. She was grateful that he had remembered, because she certainly hadn’t. He lifted his head and tore the small, square package open with his teeth, and she quickly decided that it was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. His eyes met hers.
“Ready, pet?” he asked. She bit her lip and nodded nervously, not entirely sure that she was. He slid her thong down her legs and repositioned himself between them. He rolled the condom on before leaning down over her, putting the palm of one hand on the mattress next to her head and gripping himself with the other.
“Let me,” she said, sliding her slender fingers around his throbbing width, rubbing his equally throbbing length one last time, and guiding him to her. She arched her back and pushed forward with her hips as he entered, slowly.
He moaned, loud and long, until he was fully enveloped by her also throbbing velvet heat. There was lots of throbbing going on.
“Fuck you’re… so tight,” he said huskily as he pulled back, as slowly as he’d entered, and pushed forward again.
“I haven’t… I haven’t done this much,” she admitted in a whisper, gasping as he filled her, stretching her farther than she’d ever been stretched.
“That’s okay, baby. I have. Just relax,” he whispered back, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. He pumped into her slowly, letting her get used to him. “Just move when I move,” he whispered in her ear.
Soon she was moving, her hips thrusting in time with his, her perfectly manicured nails clawing at his back as he moaned vocal encouragements into her ear.
“Fuck, yeah, just like that. Just like that, baby. God, so tight, so… so fucking tight. Unh, yeah, like it when you twist like that. Fuck, pet, so good, feel so good…”
Between the expert roll of his hips and the low husky growl of his voice, she felt her first orgasm of the evening building at an alarming pace. He felt her start to flutter, felt her legs start to shake, and increased the rhythm of his thrusts, aiming his cock at her inner walls, trying to find it- the spot he knew existed there.
Her arms clenched around his back, her nails dug in, her thighs clenched, and her hips gyrated beneath him madly when he did find it. He thrust her into a frenzy, teasing and pounding at it as she came, screaming around him.
Then he was on his back, her nails were digging into his chest, and he was grinning—almost laughing—up at the fierce, fiery look in her eyes. I think I just created a fucking monster he thought. Her long, golden hair bounced around her face as she ground into him, rocking her hips as fast as it seemed she could. He reached up and curled her locks around his fingers as she pistoned above him, moving faster and more ferociously than any woman he’d ever been beneath before.
“Fuck yeah, baby. Ride me. Fucking ride me,” he called out.
“Unh- like-like this?” she ground harder, moved faster, and does she sound nervous?
“Yeah, god, fuck yeah. Just like that,” he encouraged as he gripped her hips and just tried to hold on. God damn, it felt good. Too good, he realized, almost too late. He gripped her back, then, and flipped her back over in one smooth movement.
“Turn over,” he growled in her ear as he pulled out of her entirely.
“Huh?”
“On your knees.”
“O-okay.”
He lifted himself away as she obliged. “Grip the mattress, baby.” She did. He spread her legs apart with his knees, put himself in position, and slammed back inside without warning or ceremony. She cried out.
“Too much?” he asked against her ear.
“N-no!” she replied, firmly, and arched back into him.
“Good girl,” he growled and started thrusting, hard and fast. She moaned, louder and louder and pressed back into him, using the mattress as leverage. He admired her spirit.
“Feel good? Huh?” he asked, urgently, mouth right against her ear.
“Uh-huuuhh.” she moaned in reply.
“You like this Buffy? Hmm?”
“Yes. God, yesss.”
He got braver. “You like being fucked like this?” he ventured. Instantly, she pressed herself back harder.
“Yeah. Unnnh. Yeah.”
Right. Time to go to work, he thought. “Say it,” he growled.
“I-unnh- I like being fucked like this,” she cried out.
“Yeah. Just like a,” hard thrust, “bitch,” harder thrust, “in,” still harder thrust, “heat.” He gave one last, powerful thrust, putting his entire weight behind it, and she came, again, hard and screaming as he pulled back, gripped her hips, and fucked her, hard and furious.
It seemed like she hadn’t stopped coming when he felt it start to well up again. No stopping it this time.
“Fuck,” he put his mouth against her ear and stilled his motions. “Over. Roll over,” he commanded, pulling out. She obliged, quickly, and soon her ankles were locked behind his ass and he was thrusting inside her again, her skin on his, his face buried in her neck. He bit his lip as he felt the familiar tightening in his balls. His head whipped up.
Her eyes were closed, her hips liquid fire, moving in perfect time with his. Her inner walls were still spasming, despite the little break to roll over, and continued spasming as silken liquid flooded over his aching cock again and again.
A tender finger brushed her cheek.
“Fuck, Buffy. Look at me. Need- need you to look at me.” He said breathily. Her eyes fluttered open, and he saw pure, gaping pleasure radiating out from them. Pleasure he was giving. Her fingertips dug into his back and she bit her bottom lip as she stared- a bit nervously- up into his eyes.
His eyes grew dark and intent as his thrusts sped up and his arms began to shake.
“Spike. Yes, god, Spike. Come. Come with me,” she moaned breathily. And that was it.
“Oh, fuuuuck., he moaned, long and low, as he came, hard and shuddering. Then he collapsed against her chest.
He lay against her, getting his breath back and letting her run her fingers through his hair for several moments.
“Jesus. I haven’t gone like that since I was twenty,” he said eventually.
“How old are you?” she asked with a giggle.
“Twenty-six.”
“Ah.”
His head jerked up. “How old are you?” he asked, a small shard of panic in his eyes.
She laughed. “Twenty-one. We met at a bar, remember?”
“Oh. Right. Though- the bar where your brother works.”
“Step-brother. And he’s worked there since before I was twenty-one and didn’t let me drink.”
“Ah. Good on him, then.” He rolled over onto his back. There was a long moment of awkward silence.
“Do you—would you like some water?” he asked at last.
“Love some.”
He got up and walked out into the living area of the suite, returning after only a few moments with twin bottles of water.
“Thanks,” she said gratefully before drinking greedily. He downed half of his in one long swallow before lying down beside her again. He stared up at the ceiling as the awkward silence rolled over them, then looked disbelievingly down his torso.
“Are you… are you still horny?” he asked with trepidation.
“Little bit, yeah,” she said, looking over at him with an impish grin.
“Oh, thank God,” he said, pulling her to him in another kiss.
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