Chapter One
He could see it in her eyes. A kind of pacing, like his demon, but colder, bitter. She’d laugh and they couldn’t tell it was flat. She’d speak and they couldn’t hear the hollowness. He smelled her horror at herself; surrounded by the people who loved her most and all she could feel was repulsion and betrayal. It was a petty, vehement resentment that she hid just beneath the surface, hating herself for harboring it. But Spike saw it, and he saw she needed to feel something else, something intense and reckless and cathartic so she could maybe wake the bloody hell up. Hated seeing his Slayer looking dead inside. More than dead enough for the both of them, he was.
That night Spike slipped away from the living room, leaving the Scoobies to trade quips and pour over the books, and sauntered over to Buffy as she approached the bathroom door.
“Looks like that lot’s gonna be at it for a while, eh pet?” He said from behind her, leaning down to speak near her ear.
Buffy whirled to face him, “Yeah, and I should really get with the researching myself, you know, demons to kill and all,” she spoke with feigned enthusiasm and started to duck away.
Spike caught her arm and leaned closer, purring, “Sure you don’t want a study break, love? You seem awfully tense; I could help with that, you know…”
“No, Spike! Could you pick a worse time? Even Giles is here!”
“Oh come on, love, we both know that’s your favorite part,” he nibbled her neck right below her earlobe and pulled her against him, “The thrill of gettin’ caught. Knowin’ Mr. Father Figure in there would never understand how his good little slayer got a bit of Big Bad in her.” He smirked, “More than a bit, actually.”
Buffy tried to summon up a witty response, or even a feeble protest, but as Spike’s body pressed against hers and his tongue trailed lightly down her neck, all will to object drained out of her. She lifted her hands to his waist, slipping them under his t-shirt and resting them on the taut skin of his hips. Spike’s teeth, still blunted, nipped her shoulder, sending a little shock of heat through her, and reawakening her will. Buffy dug her fingernails into his hips and pushed him towards the bathroom door, opening it with one hand and roughly shoving him through.
“That’s it, Slayer, get angry!” he growled, pushing her back, closing the door, and slamming her up against it in one fluid motion. She snaked her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down, mashing her lips against his. Spike let out a tiny moan and pressed against her harder, feeling the heat of her body make his go rigid. He placed his hands under her buttocks, giving her the support she needed to lift her legs and wrap them around his waist. Buffy threw her head back, arching against his chest, as she felt his hard member press against her through his jeans. She bucked her hips, grinding into the bulge of his cock, loving that every nerve ending seemed to scream with the need to touch him, inhale his Spike-y scent, take him inside her. He pulled away from her lips to lick her neck, collar bone, pushing aside her shirt and moving down to the swell of her breast. Her hands slid up his shirt and she raked her nails down his back, her attention narrowing to a pinpoint. All she knew was the hardness of his body pressing her into the door, the softness of his mouth closing around her left nipple and the sharpness of his teeth that sent a little moaning scream to escape her lips.
“Hush now, you wouldn’t want your mates in there catchin’ wise and interrupting us, now would you, pet? Not when you’re just starting to get worked up,” He slid one hand up her inner thigh, under her already-pushed-up skirt, and caressed her pussy through the damp fabric of her panties. He took her breasts into his mouth one by one and rubbed her clit in circles; the feel of her slick heat burning his fingers and feeding his lust. “Stand down, love,” he murmured into her chest, disentangling her legs from around his waist, “I want to taste you.”
She shuddered, torn between fear and a treacherous thrill of desire, sure for a moment that he was asking to bite her. Damn him, stupid vampire. Maybe there was something to his infuriating accusation that she was in love with death. But instead of going for her neck he moved downwards, his hands and mouth roaming freely, pushing clothing aside and sucking and nipping at her flesh hungrily. His long fingers slipped up her thighs and hooked into the hem of her panties, pulling them down hurriedly. Once she was bare, his pace changed. Spike knelt before her and sighed a little after inhaling deeply. She smelled intoxicating, nothing fainting or blushing about it; she was pure Buffy, all woman, pungent, musky, and just a little bit sweet. And bloody hell, he loved her ‘til it drove him mad.
He nuzzled her inner thighs and teased her with kisses, continually approaching but not quite reaching the warm lips where her legs met.
“Spike…” her voice was soft, supplicating.
“What is it, pet? Mmm?” He spoke huskily and punctuated his words by licking slowly along the curve where her thigh met the outer fold of her pussy. She squirmed, seeking more intimate contact. “You want something? Want me to do something to you?”
She let out a stifled moan and put her hands on the back of his head, trying to force his mouth to her, but he stubbornly, tantalizingly, resisted.
“Say it, slayer! Tell me you want me to lick your dripping cunt!”
She bit her lip and fought the urge to beg. She would not stroke the fiend’s ego, damnit. It was bad enough she was doing this in the first place, and in her own house no less, with the whole gang in the next room. Spike rubbed the side of his face against her thigh, his lips centimeters from her sex, breath softly caressing her where she ached to be touched. He pressed his lips to the flesh of her thigh and slid his tongue over her skin before biting down hard, almost, but not quite drawing blood. She gasped, the desire pumping through her veins finally trumping her pride. “Fine, stubborn vampire!” She hissed, “I want you, ok? I want you to eat me ‘til I come, then I want you inside me, deep and hard!”
With a growl Spike buried his face in her pussy, sucking each lip separately before swirling his tongue around her swollen clit. Buffy quickly stuffed her arm into her mouth and bit down to keep from moaning loudly. Spike’s tongue flicked back and forth, teasing her relentlessly and causing her pleasure to steadily build. She moved her hips rhythmically, pressing her pussy into his face as he sucked on her clit. Just as she felt herself reaching an aching plateau, Spike slipped two fingers deep inside her and began to hook them upwards into her sweet spot. Buffy bucked a few times before the combination of his fingers inside and his tongue wickedly lapping her clit sent her over the edge. Her spine arched taut and her legs fastened around his head as she convulsed in orgasm, moaning deeply into her arm.
“Mmm, that’s it love,” Spike continued to slowly run his tongue over the full length of her pussy, savoring her juices. She shuddered, still super sensitive from her climax, and pulled him up to the level of her face, kissing him passionately. Breaking the kiss, she whispered in his ear, “Remember that other thing I wanted you to do?”
“Naughty girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing her neck. She shifted, lying on the bathroom floor, and reached down where he strained against his black jeans. He groaned and pressed into her hand as she stroked him and then unzipped and pushed his pants down around his thighs. His hard length sprung free and brushed against the wet folds of her pussy. Spike guided himself to her opening and settled his gaze on hers, his lips parted, his cool, habitual breath coming heavily. He slid into her and they both gasped.
000
Outside the window stood a lithe figure in a clinging black dress with snug lace sleeves. She peered in, hands cupped around her eyes and lips tweaked in a voyeuristic half smile. “Oo, Willie’s been a bad dog!” she cooed, “Nasty boy! Plowin’ in fields of flowers. Stinkin’, sweet, Slayer flowers… But no need to fret! Mummy’s taken care of it. Will dear, reformed, Spike still want to be dippin’ ‘is prick in that little honeypot once she’s just like the rest of us?” Thin, pale fingers slipped down into a velvet bag hanging at her hips, caressing a hollow glass sphere the size of a grapefruit. The figure giggled and sashayed away, “Not long now, dirty girl, and you’ll be pure like Mummy! It’s important for poor little lost Spike be with family…”
000
Buffy linked her ankles around his back, pushing him in deeper, and bit her lip to keep from groaning. Spike hooked his arms under hers and grabbed onto her shoulders, his mouth clinging to her neck, and his eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. They moved in unison, rocking into each other, lost in the blissful forgetting of everything outside themselves. There was no shame, no good, evil. No loneliness. No hiding. There were just Buffy and Spike, and he was there with her, filling her, holding her, knowing her.
Spike began to thrust faster, breathlessly pressing his mouth to hers. She was so bloody warm, and his cock slid so easily in and out of her tight, wet pussy. He shifted to flip them over, and Buffy rode on top, moving deliciously up and down. Spike placed his hand on his lower stomach, just where her clit rubbed each time she grinded into him. The simultaneous pounding of his cock inside her and his hand rubbing her clit sent her pleasure rising to climax. She desperately rocked harder and shoved her arm into her mouth again, to keep from moaning in ecstasy as she came. Spike felt her muscled walls contract in orgasm, milking his cock and sending an aching wave of pleasure through him. He shuddered and came, his seed shooting deep inside her and his lower lip clamped tightly between his teeth to stifle a deep groan.
Buffy collapsed onto his chest, absently kissing his neck, his lips, then laying her head on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something to the effect of, he couldn’t feel his toes and it was her bloody fault, not that he minded, but a knock came at the door.
“Hey Buffy, are you ok in there? Were you gonna head back to the demony research party? ‘Cause if you want to just go to sleep, that’s fine too, I mean, we can make with the leaving and giving Buffy space thing, if you want.” Willow’s well-meaning ramble came through the door.
Buffy froze rigid for a second before replying hurriedly, “Be right out! Just, um, having a little girl trouble!”
“Oh, ok,” Willow’s footsteps faded away from the door.
“Spike, quick!” Buffy whispered harshly, “Get dressed and go out the window.”
They sat up and hastily adjusted and pulled on their clothes. Spike pressed his lips to hers for a quick kiss, then opened the window and slipped out into the night. Buffy mentally prepared herself, smoothed down her hair, and left the bathroom to rejoin the others. Willow, Tara, Xander, Giles, Dawn, and Anya all sat in the living room, surrounded by books of differing sizes and ages.
“Ok, I get the whole being prepared and knowledge is power thing, but seriously guys, let’s give it a break already! I feel like I’m studying for demon jeopardy!” Xander complained loudly.
“As much as it pains me to say it, Xander might be right. It is getting rather late, maybe we ought to call it an evening.”
Everyone was nodding in agreement to Giles’ suggestion when the front door flew open and Spike strode into the living room. His hair was mussed, and he absently held an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “Forget the sodding research on your run of the mill workin’ joe demons. Big bad’s back in town, and for some bloody infuriating reason, I’m not it. Again.”
“You mind running that by us again, bleach boy? You know, maybe with some actual information this time.” Xander spoke with the usual half-mocking, half-challenging tone he always reserved for the blond vampire.
Spike sighed and let the bravado slip out of his voice, “It’s Dru. I slipped out for a smoke and I smelt her bloody everywhere. She’s been watching the house.”
Buffy was all business, thoughts of what they’d been doing in the bathroom not five minutes before temporarily out of mind, “When? When was she here?”
“Tonight.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Note: Alternate season six. Takes place just after “gone” and then goes off canon completely. The events of Tabula Rasa never happened, so Giles is still around and Tara and Willow are still together, although shakily.