Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy. I own nothing.

A/N: I was inspired by a scene in Dead Things. I hope you like it.

It was an unusually cold night as Buffy walked through one of many Sunnydale cemeteries. She wore a black pea coat, blue denim jeans, black turtleneck sweater, black gloves and black boots. The outfit matched her state of mind. She didn't put much effort into her appearance anymore like she use to. She had no thoughts about how to style her hair, she wore very little make-up, and she let the gloves hide her unmanicured nails. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail.

Every since her return, she has been lost in her thoughts. She no longer wanted to be on the earth. Therefore, she let her feet take her to the one place that she felt the most comfortable and where time had no meaning. Once she arrived, she knew she would start to come alive again even if it was only for a few hours. She would be able to move on with her life whether it was to slay, work or sleep. Her special place was dark, damp, and surrounded by death. It was no different than the world outside of it. She was a death dealer going on six years next week. She wasn't looking forward to it. Bad stuff always happens on her birthdays and she thought her family and friends would stop giving her parties. They still had normal lives. Unlike her, that got to be selfish and plan their futures still protected by her. However in her special place, her days went by fast but her nights lasted lifetimes. It was the only place where she could be selfish.

She runs her hand along the door feeling the powerful pull of its contents. Buffy doesn't enter right a way. Instead she continues to run her hand along the door as if it were of flesh and bone awakened by her touch. The words "I'm here" come to mind as she contemplates going inside. She doesn't have to knock. She has a permanent invitation where she can feel, relax, and lose control. She does not have to be Buffy The Vampire Slayer but Buffy the woman. She feels her heart race and her hands grow clammy inside her gloves. Her lips are partially wet from the increased saliva. A slow burn starts to ignite within her, signaling her brain to release her essence drip by drip, damping the spot reserved for him. Her breathing patterns have changed. Her chest is heaving as if she was lost for air. She feels like she's drowning.

She comes to him like a moth to a flame and although the door is closed she can picture his face. The high set cheekbones, the deep blue penetrating eyes and his soft pouty lips. He is beautiful, a painters masterpiece, a sculptors dream, and a writer's muse. She pictures his alabaster skin taut over a lean cat-like physique with abs leading to the most impressive cock she has ever seen. It's her lifeline, her white knight; her savor nestled among soft brown curls even though he's a platinum blonde. His hair reflects his cocky attitude and his sexy swagger. He is forever in her thoughts. He haunts her dreams and her reality. He is evil, a demon. He is something she has to kill but she can't because part of her would go with him. It could be a want, a desire, a need or maybe her soul. By nature, they are mortal enemies destined to fight to the death. However, the powers that be did not count on the vampire falling in love with the Slayer. Sometimes she thinks she loves him but she knows its wrong so she fights it like she has with love since Angel. Her heart has dealt with a lot of loss. She keeps what is left to herself but every time they are together, he finds a way to penetrate it. Emotionally he worships her, giving her the courage to go on, reassuring her with words that only a poet can speak. He is her equal physically, bestowing pleasures and sensations onto her beyond explanation. He stirs feelings so intense that instead of her acknowledging them, she runs away. Despite her cowardliness, she always returns and he lets her back in without consequence. She is selfish where he is selfless. He knows her better than she knows herself that is why she likes being in the dark with him.

Spike opens the door. He would have let her enter by herself but her intoxicating arousal was too much. He lets her barely walk pass him before he pulls her into a passionate kiss. It was deep , urgent and full of hidden love. His kisses are sparked by passion and lust. She brings out the beast in him, giving his cock a mind of its own. He wants to take her on the floor like an animal, primal, instinctive, in heat.

He practically fucks her through her clothes with the taste of her desire still lingering on his lips from the last time they were together. He wants to touch her over and over and wear her like a second skin, spending his days and nights buried inside her. He feels the heat radiating through the many layers of clothes. Having her pressed against his body made him want to weep from the contact. He coaxes her tongue to play with his as he begins to peel each layer of clothing away from her body. He felt her relax into him as each piece pooled around her. He removed his black paisley shirt and black jeans. He was in awe of her. Everything was about pleasing her, skin-to-skin, and flesh-to-flesh.


Spike seeks out their sanctuary in the lower level of his crypt. He gently deposits Buffy onto the bed, her desire-darkened eyes looking into his the entire time. Spike could sense her blood boiling beneath her skin as his demon begged him to put her out of her misery, but he would never bite her unless she wanted him to. The blood of a Slayer was a powerful aphrodisiac but he didn't need it. She was magnificent. Her small frame possessed the power of several men but clearly she was all woman. Her breasts were supple and they fit perfectly in his mouth. He loved her tight flat stomach and the way it flexed beneath him. He loved her rounded hips and powerful legs as they often gripped him and urged him on. There simply was nothing he didn't love about her. She was his golden-goddess so fragile yet strong, innocent yet deadly. In his eyes, she was the perfect woman.

She tried to look away but his blue eyes were too intense to look away from. You could ask a thousand questions with a look but they were beyond that. Everything that needed to be said was through a caress, a kiss, a sigh, and a whimper. She pulls him to her, wanting to feel the weight of his mouth on hers. His lips were softly demanding and she eagerly opened her mouth to him. She never wanted to stop kissing him. Each kiss was enriched by longing. They were pleasurable torture. The feel of his cool body pressed to her hot one made Buffy cry out breathlessly, ending their kiss briefly but reclaiming more. She couldn't deny the intoxicating feel of him and she always welcomed his invasion, eager for him to start sliding in and out of her. Spike nibbled on her earlobe while whispering endearments that made her shudder. He knew just what to say to make her forget. He could be tender and crude with his words but it didn't matter. Both extremes stroked the fire within. He brought his eyes to rest upon hers as if asking permission to enter her.

Their first time was always fast, a way to take the edge off. He would pound into her until she passed out or begged him to finish. He gave her more pleasure than her little body could handle, releasing her imprisoned soul. He kept up the sweet torture until she came, shivering and breathing harshly in the dark. They were equals in strength but Spikes many years of sexual experience always left her exhausted but still wanting more. She never wanted him to stop and somehow he knew. Spike moved and stroked her in places she never knew existed, causing their bodies to spasm from the intense pleasure. He almost always let her come first before he spent himself inside her. It was just like him to put her needs first. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her.

Basking in the afterglow, the lay comfortable as old lovers. Buffy was unable to shake the pleasant thought of how their bodies were made to fit together. She longed to be there with him just as they are. Spike knew how to please her every need. His touch was strong yet tender always seeking what made her gasp and what made her shiver. She desired him more every moment, even when they had finished having sex and she thought she had nothing left. Just thinking about how his touch worships her made her want to reward him once again with her body. She places a finger under his chin to bring his mouth to hers. She wanted more.

Spike acknowledged the invitation to take her again. He was never going to be satisfied because he could never get enough of her. She consumed him with the intensity of her need and he was not going to deny her anything. He took possession of her body, entering her slowly to draw out her pleasure. He wanted her to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it entered her wet folds, making sure she looked at him as he moved inside her. The feel of her warm body beneath him was better than sunlight itself. He planted fevered kisses and licks along her neck and chest while she moaned songs of passion. Spike gave her as good as she gave back while they fell into the rhythm of lovers, fueled by the emotions of the forbidden.

Overwhelmed by his feelings, Spike whispers and says, "I love you" as he continues to move inside her. She turns her face away and starts to cry. Coaxing her to look at him, he kisses her tears away then reseals his mouth to hers while the sound of her climax fills his throat. His orgasm followed seconds later.

Buffy was limb beneath him. He clung to her like he often did when their lust slacked and they both were too spent to continue. Something changed that night and it was up to her to embrace it. She was feeling selfish and wanted to stay a few more hours. Her roles as the perfect slayer, the perfect sister, and the perfect friend could wait.





You must login (register) to review.