School Hard, Spike Harder
He watched her from afar.
Hands over her head, lifting those pert breasts that were calling out to be sucked and palmed and licked, the Slayer danced, completely oblivious to his predatory eyes. He saw the slight glow to her body that smelled of sweet adrenaline and power--and he wanted it. He wanted it all.
Drawing near, he called out, "Where's the phone? I need to call the police. There's some big guy out there trying to bite somebody." He smiled as he noticed her body stiffen.
She ran past him, and he breathed in her scent, memorizing its every nuance. He waited a moment to calm himself and then crept after her.
Hair shining in the moonlight with every punch, swinging sexily every time she was knocked to the ground, the Slayer fought the oafish minion. He watched the way her body was singing with violence, her breasts heaving with exertion, her arms tensed and ready to strike, her legs taut and aching to kick out--all these things called out to him. His head was about to burst with desire--both heads. He memorized the way she moved, the way she smelled, the way she breathed. It was an intoxicating performance. The minion was beginning to falter, and Spike moved in to watch her go for the kill.
Sensing his imminent death, the vampire called out, "Spike! Gimme a hand!" His words alerted the Slayer to another presence, distracting her only after the dust exploded before her.
Spike? she said to herself. What would possess someone to name himself--oh. A quick glance at his crotch made her face flush with possibilities.
Clapping slowly, he emerged from the shadows. "Nice work, love." Indeed, Spike thought as he drank in the face now glaring at him.
"Who are you?" she called out, still high on the rush from fighting a vamp. It's the vamp high. The fighting-demons-makes-me-hot-and-yay-for-the-good-guys high. That must be why I'm looking at a vampire like this, she convinced herself. Not because he's deliciously hot or because he slinks towards me like a panther in heat or because I want to jump him till I'm sore in a good way. Her eyes widened at her own thoughts, and she tried to focus back on the situation. She squinted her eyes at him, trying to look menacing when actually she was checking out his body.
Spike noticed where her eyes were heading, and it took all of his effort not to act--not to caress himself and have her watch, not to push her up against a wall and make her feel his hardness, not to smash his lips to hers and make her body do what her eyes were doing. "You'll find out on Saturday," he murmured.
Her eyes snapped up at his voice. "What happens on Saturday?" she asked, blood rushing to her brain at the thought of his planning to see her again.
"I kill you."
Her body thrilled at the thought; Death seemed seductively alluring at the hands of such a man. Buffy berated herself for being turned on by his threat. She shook her head to let him slip into the shadows of her mind and then returned to her friends.
***
The days were going by slowly, and try as she might to focus on the Parent/Teacher shindig and the researching for the Saint V, she was distracted. Saint--what was it? Saint Vagina? That seemed to be all she could focus on, her pussy and how she wanted him, Spike, to be licking it. Something about the way he walked, the way he drawled on his words, made her want him something terrible. She wasn't used to this kind of desire; she was used to safe kisses and light tummy tickles and silly grins. She was not used to dripping wetness and moaning heat and wanton thoughts. Everything led back to him. Was it Saturday yet?
She sighed and began pouring lemonade into cups, trying not to think about that lemon song and squeezing the lemons till juice ran. Yup, Saint Vagina indeed.
***
Bored. Spike was bored. He'd been waiting, trying to be patient, trying to live up to the few words he'd left the Slayer with. Tiny promise, but he didn't want to undermine his own words by seeing her before Saturday. Would she care? Would she wonder why he made such a big deal about Saturday when he was going to see her before then? And really, who the fuck cared what she thought?
That's right, he thought to himself. I'm not gonna sit here like a pussy just because I said some words to a girl. He flew out of his seat, hollered out to the vamps around, and bolted out of the factory with no further thought. Cock hard and brain focused, he went out in search of her.
A few minutes later, he was in the school hallways, feeling out her scent and loving the sensation of stalking her pretty little body.
" Fe, fi, fo fum. I smell the blood of a nice ripe--" he chanted as he turned to see his prey-- "girl."
Beautifully bathed in the fluorescent lights of the school, she drawled, "Do we really need weapons for this?"
Holding his staff proudly, Spike retorted, "I just like them. They make me feel all manly." He smirked as she watched his hands run down the staff, as his hand dipped where she wanted to be. "The last Slayer I killed... she begged for her life. You don't strike me as the begging kind." He cocked his head for a moment, as if envisioning her begging him. There it was, her pouty face looking up at him for mercy, and it made him smirk.
Buffy saw his smirk, and it made her angry. She wanted him to act, not think. "You shouldn'ta come here," she said slowly.
He laughed at her annoyance. "No. I've messed up your doilies and stuff. But I just got so bored. I'll tell you what. As a personal favor from me to you I'll make it quick. It won't hurt a bit." Quick fuck, against a wall or something, and he was convinced he'd be done with her. But he was wrong.
"No, Spike," she said meaningfully. "It's gonna hurt a lot." Running her fingers down her body, Buffy said lowly, "In all the best ways."
His arousal flared. "Cute miniskirt," he commented as he looked her up and down. "It'd look better torn to shreds by my capable teeth." And then he charged her. He punched, loving the way her skin felt against his fist.
A high kick to the jaw, and she gave him a flash of her bare lips, wet with arousal. She smirked as she saw the dazed look on his face and then kicked him again.
He picked her up and threw her, giving her breast a quick squeeze before tossing her against the wall. He threw her a kiss while punching her head back.
She fought back, enjoying their little tango as each slyly grabbed flesh with every jab and kick. Snapping his head back, she smiled as his shirt flew up at impact. Her eyes saw what her fingers felt, and it merely whetted her appetite.
Hitting the wall, Spike faltered for a moment. "Now, that hurt! But not as much as this will." He grabbed a plank from the wall and bashed her in the head, her body finally falling to the ground with a thud. Her legs were splayed, giving him a deliciously pink view of her sex. He began his stealthy creep towards her, towards the gold at the end of his rainbow, when suddenly the colors were knocked out him. His blurred vision made out a woman holding an ax. "You get the hell away from my daughter!" Joyce threatened, her eyes wet with tears of fear.
Spike growled at her and then glared at Buffy with lustful eyes. "Women!" he spat out, adjusting his hard cock. He flew out of the school in a flurry of leather and cockiness, and it made Buffy hotter than ever.
Joyce gathered her daughter in her arms and murmured, "Nobody lays a hand on my little girl."
Buffy tried to quell the feelings of disappointment in being interrupted. No, no hands for Buffy tonight, she thought to herself. Her eyes still strayed to the window where he had swooped away, leaving her uncomfortably unsatisfied. Squeezing her muscles, she tried to suppress the desires that were still throbbing and let her mother lead her home.
***
"Women!" Spike repeated in an exasperated tone. After pacing the empty room several times, he finally plopped onto a chair and closed his eyes, attempting to dispel the thoughts of this golden Slayer. She taunted him, her shiny lips and exotic scent and soft breasts, and he couldn't purge his body of such thoughts--part of him didn't want to.
Spike was dissatisfied. It seemed stupid to think that an encounter with his hand would actually take the edge off his desire for the Slayer. No, it would merely torture him with images of her hot body, still out of reach. What was she doing? Right now?
***
Buffy was just getting ready to go to bed. She'd spent some time with her mother, trying to reassure her of their safety without revealing too much about her Chosen One status. When she finally reached her room, her body slumped from exhaustion--tired not only from the fighting but also from the pretending--pretending to be interested in her mother's thoughts, pretending not to be angry from the interruption, pretending not to want to run up to her room and finish on her own what the two of them had started at the school. She threw off her clothes, not caring where they landed, and plopped onto her bed, enjoying the way her breasts bounced. She stretched out, as if preparing her body for pleasure.
***
He grabbed his duster and stalked out of the room, searching again for his prey. This time he was not going to leave unsatisfied.
***
Buffy couldn't. Touching herself, as much as she wanted to, was not going to replace his ferocious stare and arousing movements. No, violence was going to have to do tonight, she decided. Turning off her light, she quietly climbed out of her room and went vampire-hunting.
***
He could smell her, almost taste the air that was drenched in her musk. But she wasn't here. Her room was empty, and so he continued to track his Slayer. He shouldn't have been surprised when her scent led to the cemetery. He smiled to himself at the thought that, in place of sex, she sought out violence. My kind of girl, he thought to himself. He watched for a little while as her cute ass flew in the air with kicks and flips. She was still in that white miniskirt, begging to be soiled, and her hair was still shiny. He walked closer and waited.
Buffy was enjoying the thrill of the hunt. She'd already staked three vampires, and this fourth one was fun, stretching her with various kicks and punches that allowed the night air to lick her skin. When he finally exploded, she sniffed the air and smiled. Now her night was getting somewhere.
"Fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell the body of a nice, ripe--" she turned to face him-- "vampire." She threw her hair out of her face and looked onto him fully.
"Do we really need weapons for this?" he asked quietly, motioning to her stake.
She stroked it lovingly and then ran her tongue seductively along its length. "I just like them," she purred coyly. "They make me feel all womanly." Swirling her tongue around the tip, she then threw it aside and started towards him.
And the fight began again, each throwing punches and grasping flesh till both were panting with desire.
Buffy was thrown to the ground once more, her legs splayed to show her wetness, and this time there was no one to interrupt.
Spike grabbed her ankles and pushed her cunt up to his lips. He sank his fangs into her plush mound, and Buffy screamed in delight. She came immediately, and Spike lapped up her blood mingled with cum.
The rock that Buffy had grabbed once she'd felt his fangs pierce her skin was now grain in her fist. Such a powerful orgasm--who knew that fangs would push her over? And now that cold tongue, licking and sucking at her. The waves of orgasm began to stir again in her, and Buffy closed her eyes to ride them.
The power surged through him, the splendid mix of blood and cum. The two most potent liquids, one of life and one of lust, pumped through his body and made him soar with ecstasy. He let go of her legs long enough to rip off her skirt and then rip off his own t-shirt.
There was a luxury in lying naked in the grass at night in a cemetery--a delectable sensation of letting the animal emerge. Buffy tore off her shirt and bra, baring her entire body to his eyes. Spike followed, his erection finally being freed of its casings. It was beautiful, and Buffy wanted it in her more than anything. She pounced on him, pushing him onto his back and then sinking herself onto his flesh in one fluid movement.
And then they both cried out, the hotness of their intimacy burning inside each. The mating was raw, wild, animalistic. She bounced on his body, loving the echo of her pussy slapping against his balls. He loved the way his fingers pressed into her flesh, leaving red marks of need everywhere. He sat up with her, their chests now rubbing sweatily against each other, and he grabbed a nipple with his mouth, sucking it with urgency.
She moaned and shrieked with pleasure, all the sensations crashing over and over again. And then she was on her knees, his cock pounding her from behind and hitting her clit with each stroke.
"Fuck, Slayer!" he hissed as his body began to tighten up the slope of satisfaction.
"Spike, harder!" she grunted in reply as she pushed her ass against him, making their bodies closer and tighter than ever. And then there was the frantic movements, clawing towards climax, and then--
"Yeeeeeeeeeesssssssss!" she screamed out as her insides exploded with pleasure.
He roared as he sank his fangs into her shoulder and then filled her with his crowning pleasure. Her body trembled with such intense penetration, but her moans were only of pleasure. His hands were still tightly gripping her hips, and his body stiffened as the vibrations of lust finally began to ebb. He collapsed on top of her, back to chest to grass, and they simply gave in to their deserved exhaustion.
***
When Buffy awoke, she was in bed. Naked, sore, sweaty, and satisfied, she stretched languorously. And she still had Saturday to look forward to.
