Racing through the halls of Stevenson, Buffy searched for a way to escape. Breaking through the front doors the cool air greeted her, drawing her further into the night.
When the concern of capture was gone, one thought emerged and began to ricochet through her mind—beer. Raising her nose upwards, several short sniffs determined her direction. Buffy’s purposeful strides continued through the noisy campus filled with chirps and buzzes of small insects and the meaningless chatter of people, people without beer.
Stilling her movements once more, she tilted her face upwards to recapture the scent of her craving, instantly inundated with a slightly familiar, yet intoxicating scent. It resembled the males from earlier. However, this hearty essence far surpassed all others in total male embodiment. Triggering her reaction on a purely physical level, a primal urge swelled and consumed her.
The prior needs to locate the once desired foamy liquid was now replaced with the raging craving to locate this potent being. Instantly, her direction changed, heading towards the outskirts of campus.
Spike needed a violent kill to lift his spirits now that he had returned to Sunnydale to lick his wounds from his latest disappointment, losing the Gem of Amara to Angel and his mini brood squad.
A kill would help settle his frayed nerves, especially since the only place for refuge in the God forsaken place, was in the tunnels. He shuddered at the thought of the annoying blond that had taken residency there. He hoped that his abrupt unannounced departure from Sunnydale gave Harmony the clear message he wanted her gone—her and all her shit, especially those irritating unicorns.
His willie was the only part of him that demanded that she stay for as long as she did. After violating her six ways to Sunday, even her responsive body wasn’t worth her grating incessant voice prattling on and on about nonsense, especially soddin’ France. If she hadn’t gotten the clear message when he got back, then he’d just stake the stupid cow. Done and done. With a brief nod, he confirmed his own thoughts.
Standing above the Sunnydale campus, Spike’s tracking gaze fell over numerous unsuspecting students milling about. Running his raspy tongue over his distended fangs, he strategically decided which happy meal to partake in tonight.
“Eeny, meeny, miney, oomph—“
Spike’s unneeded breath whooshed from his lungs when he suddenly found himself tackled to the ground. His sense of self-preservation went haywire when he realized who straddled his back. Whose tantalizing scent tickled his nose and filled his lungs. Whose hot breath was on the scruff of his exposed neck, nose buried deep, tickling the small hairs with sniffs that were unaffected by hair product. Whose hands were roaming over his body with rough tugs and harsh sweeps of her hands—The Slayer.
After several moments without feeling his body explode into dust, Spike moved his head to the side escaping the soil that he was face deep in. With a slow steady tone, he attempted to negotiate his release.
“Nice move Slayer, big points for originality and stealth. Now, I’ll lay here playing possum, until you leave. When you see your Watcher later, you can tell him that you got one over the Big Bad. So I’m just going to slide my arms under me—“
A deep growl sounded in his ear. Immediately, he moved his palms from the ground, splayed his arms outward in submission. “Easy Slayer, not moving…not a muscle.” Her breath remained on the shell of his ear, causing a mixture of nervousness and excitement to swirl in his confused mind. “Um, Slayer, don’t stake a bloke for askin’, but could I at least roll over? Wash day isn’t until two days from now and this is my best shirt.”
Cocking her head, Buffy listened to his words, which made no sense to her muddled mind. All that matter to her was the male that resided beneath her and for him to remain there.
Taking her silence as permission, Spike slowly raised his hands above his head and rolled. He felt her body tense briefly then shifted to accommodate his movements.
Instantly, the muted heat that radiated through his leather, increased tenfold from her new position. Her hips momentarily hovered, before lowering tediously until her scorching core pressed against him, cradling his lower body. Spike’s eyes slammed shut from the barrage of warmth surrounding his hardening cock. Silently berating himself for how sadistically twisted he was, getting off prior to his ultimate staking, his firmly closed lids lifted. Spike’s gaze held firm on the woman astride his lap, awaiting her next move.
Buffy shifted to inspect the male below her, letting her nose and hands lead the exploration. Placing her hands on his chest, with random strokes she explored the entire area. Her brow furrowed with confusion for how he felt soft and hard at the same time.
With one circular pass, his shirt pulled from the waist of his pants and bunched. Roughly grabbing the fabric, she pulled. The sound of ripping material filled the silence. She exposed a patch of Spike’s alabaster skin drawing her intense gaze.
Lowering her head, Buffy’s nose hovered and traveled over his bare flesh, dipping briefly once meeting his navel. Her continuous inhale danced across his abdomen. “Man smells good,” Buffy deeply growled, as she continued to explore.
Spike was completely baffled from her actions and appearance. Replacing her usually coifed hair was a mass of bedraggled tangles of blond tresses. Stylish clothes exchanged for GI Jane style, khakis and camo-green tank top. Her appearance was a small part of the confusion. Her primitive movements and grunts were what really piqued his curiosity.
She continued to travel across the expanse of his chest and abdomen, ripping the barrier of fabric hindering her exploration. Two halves of his ruined shirt splayed wide, revealing him completely.
Unexpectedly a tentative swipe of her pointed tongue replaced her sniffs, causing a moan to spill from his lips. Following several passes of small licks, she replaced them with long lavish laps. As a large feral cat lapping cream, she tended to his flesh, a content purr resounding from deep within her throat.
Spike was in an utter sexual daze. He strongly believed that this tiny warrior had staked his undead ass and this was the devil’s way to torture him for all of eternity, endless sexual teasing never finding release. Spike wanted to participate, grab her hips or weave his hand through her sexy bed head, but he was afraid to move or break the spell that she was under. Since it was Sunnydale, a spell was a big possibility.
Buffy’s blunt teeth nipped him causing his hips buck. Her responding mewls echoed in his ears, inciting another reaction. Slowly, he moved his hands, which were in tight fists by his side, to her slender hips. Raising her gaze upward from his chest, her eyes were wild as a warning growl sounded.
Boldly Spike continued until his hands rested on her then he stilled. Understanding her primal need and desire to control and dominate, he complied. Even though his demon clawed and roared within, he gave her complete submission.
Once Buffy felt him yield her gaze lowered, and she resumed her exploration with her teeth and tongue. Ascending his flesh, she reached one flattened nipple. Latching on the nub with her teeth, she tugged roughly causing Spike’s demon to flash forward briefly, before he reined it in. Running her nails down his chest, she left several bloody scores in her wake.
Spike’s demon thrashed within, demanding to take this woman, to plunge his fangs and cock deep within her fiery body. Unable to control himself, his hips bucked once more. Buffy sat up, swirling her hips against him.
Following her lead, Spike gripped her hips tighter, continuing his slow rocking motion. Despite the pair of heavy denims between them, he could feel the moisture from her core burn his cool hardened flesh.
Buffy’s nail dug into his chest as her eyes closed. Several slow passes caused each to moan into the evening air. Each started to breathe deep from their clothed, yet intense connection.
With a quick sniff, Buffy stilled her hips, eyes widened. Looking to her left, her intense growl sounded. “Fire…fire bad.” Instantly she pulled from Spike and ran off towards the direction of slight scent of wafting fire.
Spike’s confused gaze followed her departure, until she disappeared from view. Several long clearing blinks attempted to dispel his hazy mind. Slowly sitting up, Spike looked down at his destroyed shirt and raging hard on, with a slight shake of his head, he questioned to the empty night.
“What the bloody hell was that?”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Well kiddies, I saw Beer Bad the other day and I wondered if Buffy came across Spike all cavewomany what would of happen. Well, this is what I came up with! Enjoy! Big thanks to Sanityfair.
Chapter End Notes:
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