DISCLAIMER: Spike, Buffy and tha whole Sunnydale gang belong to Joss Whedon and countless corporate entities that aren’t me. This fic is for entertainment, non-profit purposes only.

Author: MissMishka
Distribution: Here & Adultfanfiction.net so far. If you’d like to archive it just lemme know where it’s going. :-)
Feedback: Loved! Review or send email to missmishka@aol.com

Spoilers: Up to 6x06 "All the Way," but nothing major
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Rating: NC-17 for all the smut parts.

Huge thanks to my new beta Monica. :-)

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A Nice Leather Collar

Buffy: Bell. Neck. Look into it.
Spike: Come with a nice leather collar does it?

~ All the Way ~

~*~

He sealed his fate by sneaking up on me while I was patrolling last night.

It had been another one of those cold, eerie nights where the cemetery was all foggy like it had been on Halloween and, I admit, that made me a bit jumpy. My spidey sense was tingling all over the place, telling me that there was at least one fledgling preparing to rise and while I was carefully walking among the fresh graves waiting for it’s arrival a hand had suddenly descended on my shoulder. I refuse to label the sound that escaped me at that moment a shriek, it was simply a startled exclamation that I unleashed as I whipped around to kill whatever had caused the very un-Slayer-like noise. Seeing Spike as the culprit hadn’t really quelled that urge to slay.

Fortunately for him, unfortunately for my wrath, he’d realized quickly that he’d picked a bad moment and taken off before I could do anything but glare at him murderously. I’d quite happily taken my anger out on the vampire that popped out of her grave a few moments later, venting my confusion over what was happening between Spike and myself at the stranger between kicks and punches before finally winding down and just dusting her.

The whole incident is what led me here today. I said it myself yesterday when he startled me in the basement of the Magic Box when I went in search of mandrake root, he seriously needed to wear a bell.

Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, I scold myself as the reminder of that brief encounter brings to mind his ‘Feel like a bit of the rough and tumble’ comment and the same very bad thoughts that had instantly filled my head then.

Spike and me. Rough and tumbling.

Without clothes.

Clenching my eyes shut, I force myself to think of other things until the far too tempting images fade. After a few moments and some very disturbing visualizations of the newly engaged Anya and Xander playing ‘shiver me timbers,’ I open my eyes again and focus on the store display before me.

I honestly don’t know why I’m here. I should just get a cowbell and tie it around his damned neck, but he’d gone and filled my head with images of him wearing a ‘nice leather collar.’

And nothing else, an inner voice reminds me and I again have to think unpleasant thoughts to get rid of that tantalizing image.

Temporarily in control of my libido once more, I study the black leather collars available in the adult novelty store I cannot believe I’m standing in! and try valiantly to keep my attention from straying to the other items available. It was a hopeless effort, though, so I just reach out and grab the first neck piece on the rack before walking briskly to the counter to pay for the damned thing. All the while questioning my sanity and denying that I had any real interest in those whips or sexy leather outfits or that really big "Big Daddy" dildo that claimed to be realistic and lifelike despite the fact that at eight inches long and three inches in diameter it seemed unnaturally large compared to the penises I’ve seen in real life.

A stray thought as to what Spike’s … organ … would look like runs through my head and sends me into another bad thoughts and naughty mental image feast until the cashier’s attempts to get my attention finally work and with a blush I realize it’s my turn in line.

"Would you like a leash to go along with this?" the woman behind the register asks politely.

Oh, God, I’ve become one sick puppy, I groan as the idea of having Spike on a leash creates all kinds of very wicked scenarios in my head.

"Miss?" the cashier again snaps me out of my erotic reverie.

"Oh … um … no," I finally answer, embarrassed by my preoccupation. "No leash," I inform her firmly, hoping my saying it aloud like that will get the thoughts out of my head. "Oh," I remember suddenly what the collar’s for, "do you have any bells?"

"Bells?"

My blush intensifies at the look she gives me, but as I’m never coming back here as long as I live and I’ll hopefully never see her again I figure I might as well just forget my modesty and get what I came for.

"Yes, I want to attach a bell to the collar."

"Oh," her look clears up with an understanding smile prompting me to wonder if perhaps I’d misspoken or she’d misheard me the first time. "We do, actually. They’re right here," she moves to the left and points to an area along the wall that bore an assortment of a few various sized bells and a lot of pet toys.

Curious about why those were there, but not about to ask I look over the selection, testing each bell until I find the one with the ring I like best. Satisfied I hand her the bauble then look around absently as she thoughtfully hooks the bell to the collar for me and finishes calculating the purchase. The adult videos catch my eye, once again causing me to blush at the sexually explicit images on their covers that get me thinking all kinds of things I shouldn’t be thinking and wondering if my body can bend and twist like that.

"Will that be all?"

I snap around guiltily from my contemplation of a video bearing the image of a blonde man that, if you looked at it just right, looked a bit like Spike.

"Yes," I answer quickly and gratefully hand over the credit card Giles had provided me with for ‘necessities’ to complete the transaction.

The second she return the card to me along with the discreet black bag containing my new items I turn and walk quickly from the shop, ignoring all the intriguing pleasure devices and the cashier’s invitation to ‘Come again.’ Unable to believe I had really actually gone into that place I continue moving at a rapid pace to put as much distance between myself and it as possible.

Relax, it’s not like you bought any of the good stuff. You got a collar. Big whoop. You can pretend you got it from a pet store, that wicked inner voice scoffs.

Relaxing at that thought, I slow my stride and begin contemplating what to do next.

Should I go ahead and give it to him?

Wait until the next time he startles me then attempt to strangle him with it to make sure he learns never to do that again?

Keep it hidden somewhere in my room and take it out every so often to inspire even more vivid and erotic fantasies of Spike and myself?

Groaning at that one, I head toward the Magic Box where I got roped into helping Anya out again with her continued ‘post-holiday clearance.’

~*~*~

While Anya closed out the register for the day and did her apparently daily ‘dance of capitalistic superiority’ I sneak off to the bathroom.

I tell myself I’m not trying to look good for him as I fuss with my hair and apply some makeup, but I’m not very convincing. My thoughts are focused on the shopping bag I’ve hidden behind the counter in the shop while I worked and I know darn well I’m getting ready to go see him. I tug at the hem of my slim, mid-calf length black skirt and run a hand over my short sleeved pastel blouse to smooth out invisible wrinkles, wondering if this is the outfit to wear for the meeting.

Part of me, that part that I just know is gonna be getting me in trouble tonight, is demanding I rush home and change into something leather and discreetly slutty that Spike’s sure to like while my more sensible side is calling for butch concealing clothes. Both seem to agree that a change is needed from the soft femininity of this outfit.

Telling myself that I don’t need to change because nothing’s going to happen, I’m just going to give him the stupid collar and we’ll go patrol, I forcibly stop my primping and leave the room.

That’s all, I inform myself sternly. No rough and tumbling.

At least not with each other, I concede hoping that there’ll be some nice distracting demons to vent on.

The others were all laughing and talking sociably as they cleaned up and I move quietly, I wasn’t sneaking, to retrieve my package then leave the shop without disrupting their festivities.

There’s still some time before sunset and as I walk toward Spike’s crypt I wonder if he’ll be awake already. He usually is, seeming to always be up and about watching TV or something, which often makes me wonder if he ever actually sleeps.

I arrive at my destination and brace myself for seeing him again. Putting on my indifferent mask and steadying my pulse and breathing, not that they were erratic or anything. Except from exertion from the walk over.

Yeah, an inner voice scoffs, you’re so out of shape it’s the walking of three blocks that has your heart thumping like mad.

Ignoring that I tighten my hold on the black plastic bag I’m carrying and open the crypt door and step inside, senses on high alert for any sign of Spike. Especially behind me as I venture further into the tomb. My eyes scan the chamber, lingering on every shadowed nook and cranny, and it becomes obvious he’s not up here.

Shoulda already known that by the fact that the television wasn’t on.

Not really wanting to revisit his shrine to me or go down memory lane to him chaining me up while declaring that obsessive love of his for me, I reluctantly kick aside the rug covering the hole down to the cavern below and jump down through the opening.

It’s softly lit by candles rather than the flaming torches I remember and as I scan the area I see a great many other changes. The décor is quite posh, like he’d told me not too long ago, with lush oriental rugs strewn over the dirt and rock floor. He had actual furniture, a dresser in which I guess he kept his limited wardrobe, in addition to a few sarcophaguses he apparently used as tables. The most notable changes, though, were the removable of the shrine and the very big four poster bed dominating the space.

I wonder briefly at what the shrine’s absence means, then just forget it because it’s dismantling had to be a good thing.

My thoughts and attention quickly zero in on the bed.

Which is occupied.

By a soundly sleeping and barely covered Spike.

He’s sprawled out on his stomach with an ivory colored sheet twisted around his waist. His muscular back is visible as is the entire length of his pale left leg making it rather obvious that he’s naked.

Sleeps in the nude. Good to know, I record that fact with a bit more interest that I should.

Without even realizing it my feet have carried me to the bedside and I’m now standing just inches from that lean, pale, naked, male and very tempting frame, fighting the urge to reach out and touch it.

It’s a losing battle and, telling myself I’m just waking him up, I bend forward, place the shopping bag quietly down on the floor then extend a hand to lightly brush his bare calf with my fingertips. The strength in his muscle, even relaxed as it was in slumber, sends a shiver through my body as I move my hand further upward. When I reach the back of his knee his leg twitches, but that the meaning of that movement doesn’t really compute as I continue on to his thigh. My fingers feel soft light colored hairs the higher they go and, intrigued by them, I automatically climb onto the mattress so that I can explore more when I find myself unable to do so from my standing position.

My skirt gets hiked up around my thighs as I kneel next to his prone form and when his bare foot unexpectedly bumps against my exposed calf I jerk back and almost fall right back off the bed. Freezing as the moment reminds me of the situation, I clench my eyes shut in fear that he may be waking up. When he doesn’t move again and I don’t hear any snarky comments from him regarding my presence in his bed I slowly crack an eye open to verify that he’s still asleep. As I realize that he has remained undisturbed by me, I guess that’s what the whole ‘sleeping like the dead’ thing means, I bite my lower lip and find myself debating what to do next.

Rational option: carefully get my ass off this bed, get out of the crypt and pretend this didn’t happen.

Irrational option: carefully continue my exploration and pray he doesn’t wake up before I’ve satisfied some of my curiosity.

If I were in a rational state of mind, I wouldn’t be here to begin with, I concede as my eyes move to watch his face carefully for any signs of stirring while I place my hand lightly on his shoulder.

Again his musculature fascinates me, causing my fingertips to linger over tracing the bumps and hollows of each muscle beneath the layer of his pale skin. I forcibly resist the urge to curl my hand around his bicep as I skim down his arm. His hand doesn’t get as much attention as I would have liked, fearing too much playing with his fingers would wake him, but I do get a feel of it before running my exploring digits back up his arm.

Hesitantly I begin drifting down his spine, tracing each vertebrae and growing ever closer to the sheet that conceals his naked butt from me. Unbidden my eyes go from watching his face to following the journey of my fingers as they reach the barrier and begin tracing the flesh just above the bunched fabric.

Without consciously intending to, that sounded like a plausible story so I’ll be sticking to it till my next dying day, I begin inching the sheet downward with the motions of my hand. Holding my breath as I all too slowly uncover the firm mounds of his ass I force myself to keep up the steady movements and not give into my urge to impatiently rip the damned blanket aside.

Finally it’s bared to my gaze and hand and I eagerly explore the new terrain with both. Desire dilates my pupils and hardens my nipples as my fingers skate over his taut cheeks and I instantly begin imagining myself digging my fingernails into that resilient flesh to pull him deeper and harder into me as he pounds my willing body into this bed.

The fantasy is so real I can almost feel our bodies slapping together. Hear that heated meeting of flesh, the pleasured moans and groans from both our lips and the squeaking of the mattress from our frantic actions.

There are too many realities missing from the fantasy, though.

Like how the skin I’m touching tasted. How he kissed when he wasn’t all banged up by a torturing bitch-God like Glory or under a spell. How much he’d fill me. How hard or gentle he’d take my body.

Would he talk during? Whisper wicked or sweet nothings into my ear and make me whimper as that damned accent of his makes me all wet and weak for him?

I have to clamp my thighs together as the idea of him talking during sex makes me ache with emptiness and the need for fulfillment while coating my pussy with aroused moisture. I’ve no doubt he’s a very verbal lover considering he never shuts the hell up any other time. In fact, I’m rather surprised he isn’t talking in his sleep. Angel, Parker and Riley hadn’t said very much aside from the odd conciliatory comment or question about how I liked this or that. The idea of Spike – of someone, I correct quickly – talking dirty to me in that situation was suddenly very appealing.

Determinedly shaking those thoughts away when I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan caused by them, I refocus on the body I’m touching and cautiously glance up at his face again. His expression was still relaxed in slumber, his angular features softened by sleep making him look endearingly young and boyish in that moment. Distracted by that sight I lift my other hand to lightly touch his face, brushing over his scarred eyebrow, high cheekbones and slightly parted lips. When his nose twitches as my caresses tickle it and I quickly remove both hands from his body then sit there tense and breathless until I’m sure I haven’t woken him just yet.

After a moment of no further movements I let out a sigh and reluctantly agree with my inner voice of reason that’s screaming about how I have to stop now. With extreme care and caution I readjust the sheet to cover his butt then begin inching toward the edge of the mattress. Unable to resist satisfying one last curiosity before I get off the bed and start pretending none of this happened, I bend down and press my mouth to the small of his back. Wanting just a small taste to remember for my fantasies I slowly part my lips and allow my tongue to flick out and run lightly over a small patch of his skin. Nothing memorable hits my tastebuds from the fleeting touch, so I lean in further and repeat the gesture with more contact upon his flesh.

"’s not a good idea to climb into bed with a vamp who expects to wake up alone, luv," I freeze with the flat of my tongue glued to his back and my eyes popping open in horror. "When he finds out he’s got company his first reaction’s to attack whatever’s joined him. Lucky for you I recognized your scent," Spike informs me casually as he rolls onto his back, putting my face right at his crotch which did not remained covered during the shift in position.

His erection bumps against my chin, snapping me out of my frozen state and with a definite shriek, after a quick look at his length, I scramble away from him and promptly fall off the edge of the bed. I lay there on the rugs surrounding the bed, shocked that I’ve gotten myself into this mess and reeling at the knowledge that the ‘Big Daddy’ dildo I’d seen hours ago in that shop wasn’t really so big compared to what I’d just seen on Spike.

"Slayer?" Spike asks from the bed and I bury my face deeper into the rugs beneath it as I hear the bed shifting under his weight. "Wanna explain what you’re doing?"

"I fell," I state the obvious into the carpeting.

"Noticed that, did ya?" embarrassment heats and reddens my cheeks at his openly amused tone. "I’m a bit more curious as to why you were just molesting my corpse."

"I was not mol - ," I instantly bolt upright at that accusation, kneeling next to the bed and turning to glare at him only to have my protest cut off along with my oxygen as I find myself staring at his crotch which is once again right in my face thanks to his having sat up while I was sprawled on the floor.

The organ receiving the bulk of my gaping stare jerks as if sensing my awestruck gaze and I find myself licking my lips when a drop of moisture becomes visible on the head as it peeks out from beneath the foreskin. My fingers itch to wrap around the thick shaft that stood out at least ten inches from a nest of light brown curls and curved up toward his chiseled abs. My mouth opens slightly with the hunger to take him inside and taste that moisture. My pussy aches emptily and grows even wetter, as if weeping to be filled by … that. My whole body shudders in reactions to the wants flooding my system and the images filling my head and oh my God, I think I’m drooling!

"Like what you see, luv?" he asks knowingly, breaking into my thoughts and bringing me sharply back to reality.

Eyes widening even further in mortification I snap my mouth shut and leap to my feet. I try to say something scathing to deny it, but no sound comes out and no matter how much I force my attention to the floor, the walls of the cavern, anywhere but Spike and … that, my gaze keeps returning there and all potential words to speak are just gone from my head.

"Cover up!" I finally order a bit frantically as it becomes clear there’s no way in Hell I can concentrate on anything but it as long as it’s all out in the open like that, waving about all hard and long and strong and tempting.

"You could just avert those blushin’ eyes, Slayer, if it disturbs you," he informs me with a smirk.

That cocky expression draws my attention to his lips and gets me remembering those long suppressed memories of his mouth on mine, his tongue sweeping past my lips to tangle with mine in kisses that had left me weak-kneed and breathless. I’d blamed all that quite happily on Wills’ spell then, but something tells me I’d have the same reaction if he kissed me right now and I wouldn’t have the wacky witchcraft to blame it on this time.

The left corner of his mouth kicks up a bit further, giving him an even more deliciously wicked look, as I continue to stare and the tongue I’m remembering so vividly darts out to skim slowly over his lips before poking suggestively at that elevated corner. I suddenly feel that my own lips are far too dry and find myself mimicking his gesture, minus the suggestive poking, to moisten them. His eyes follow my tongue’s motions, just as mine had his, and I draw in a shuddery breath at the way his blue irises darken at the sight.

For a moment we just stare at each other then he begins to rise from the bed and I stand there, trying to identify exactly what shade of blue his eyes were as desire deepened their hue. I’m so preoccupied with that trivial pursuit that I fail to register that he’s now standing in front of me rather than sitting, causing my head to tip back without my consciously being aware of it so that I can continue to study his irises.

Some part of my brain notices that the smirk has faded from his lips as he looks at me with a bit of hesitance entering his expression, but all I really notice is that if you look really close you can see flecks of gold and amber in his gleaming eyes. Then his hands lightly touch my arms just above the elbow and, with a slightly dazed blink, I abruptly stop with my contemplation to listen to the warring factions inside my head.

The voice of reason I’ve not been listening to much at all today is screaming that Spike is touching me in an overly familiar manner which I should not encourage in any way, shape or form because he’s Spike with the whole being a vampire and having a massively obsessive crush on me thing. The wicked voice of God knows what that I’ve been obeying thus far, along with my body’s urges, is cheering wildly and doing a victory dance at the fact that Spike is touching me in an arousing and almost sexual nature and looking very much like he intends to kiss me.

While I’m trying to get my brain to figure out something to tell my body to do the hands on my arms become more sure that they won’t be swatted away and they curl around my biceps and slide upward until they encounter the barrier of my shirtsleeves. Not at all discouraged by that obstacle those strong hands begin exerting a slight bit of force to pull me closer to him as he leans forward to press our chests together. Through the thin material of the blouse between our skin my hard nipples harden even further and begin to tingle deliciously at their contact with his firm pecs.

My brain apparently makes a decision and I find my breath slowly to a halt as my suddenly heavy eyelids drift downward and my lips fall open in anticipation of meeting his. I don’t close my eyes, though, as he lowers his head and neither does he. I see in his gaze a question as his mouth hovers near mine, but doesn’t go that last fraction of an inch to actually kiss me.

Do you want this? Are you sure?

Those indescribably blue eyes seem to inquire and I honest to God don’t know, but my body seems to have just the answer he needs. My hands rise from where they’d just been dangling uselessly at my sides to lightly touch his bare hips. Part of me wants them to move downward and grab onto his butt like I’d imagined doing as I lightly touched it before he awoke, but, with an apparent mind of their own, they drift upward, skimming along his sides, tickling his ribs them moving around to his chest. As my palms linger there for a second that rational part of my brain chirps up again, telling me to push him away, but instead of obeying my hands finish their northern migration and come to a rest on his shoulders, fingers curling over the flesh and bone there to urge him to move that last little bit.

My insides seem to freeze then flip over when his lips finally brush mine. It’s a fleeting, still hesitant, caress the likes of which I never would have expected from him and it makes my hands grip him tighter to keep me upright on my suddenly unsteady legs. He dips down again, allowing more contact this time, but still all too brief for my liking. A moan of unknown origins or purpose escapes me and on the third touch his mouth lingers.

I marvel at the feel of it, as if experiencing it all for the very first time. There’s a softness to his lips and the way they’re moving over mine that sends my eyelids fluttering the rest of the way down as I just want to feel this.

I quickly begin actively participating rather than just enjoying his actions, angling my head to the side a bit more and opening my mouth for deeper contact. Rather than instantly thrusting his tongue inside as I was inviting he surprises me again by laying a series of open mouthed kisses on me that had my toes curling till they almost cramped in the black leather boots I was wearing.

After a few moments of that I finally feel his tongue slip over and past my lips and I eagerly meet it with mine. I can tell he wants to continue taking this slow from the way he begins exploring the points of my teeth, but I’ve had just about as much of that as I can take. All I can feel or smell or taste or think of is him and this and us and it all has my body shaking with the need to be taken, so I thrust my tongue urgently against his as my hands move up into his hair to keep him from pulling away.

Apparently having no desire to refuse me what I want, he responds to my advance with a voracious hunger that has me moving to grind my hips into his. I feel his erection against my stomach and feel like I’ve got to have it inside me now. Like a woman possessed I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, gluing my body to his, and push with all my weight until we topple together back onto the bed then maneuver myself to straddle his thighs, all without breaking our intoxicating kiss.

Unwilling to give up my connection with his mouth I move a hand downward to hike my skirt up around my waist so I could settle myself over his length and rock hips against him for a moment to ease some of the ache between my legs. That’s far from enough to satisfy me so I raise up a bit to pull the saturated crotch of my bikini briefs to the side then wriggle around attempting to get the tip of his cock inside me without using the hand that was needed to keep the panties from blocking his entrance.

A frustrated sound escapes my throat at my lack of success before I suddenly feel the damned things torn from my body. I pull back with a surprised gasp at the draft of cold air hitting my now fully exposed privates and look down at Spike while I draw air into my lungs that I wasn’t consciously aware of needing.

"You ripped my panties off," I pant out that statement of the obvious as the fact sinks in.

"So I did," he says, looking a bit surprised and sheepish at the realization himself.

Almost as one we both turn to look at the torn underwear still clutched in his right hand.

"I liked those," I pout, momentarily distracted by the sight of the ruined black satin garment.

"Um … sorry?" he holds the panties up, stares at them a second then tosses them aside and moves his hand to my back before rolling out bodies toward the head of the bed until he was laying on top of me. "Buy you a new pair," he promises before dipping down to press his mouth to my neck.

The second his lips touch the rapidly beating pulse just under my jawline all thoughts of underwear vanish from my head as I tip it to the side to grant him complete access to the left side of my throat. He nudges my legs apart and settles into the opening, pressing his length against my slit but making no move to enter me, as he accepts my invitation and moves his mouth down my neck, licking, kissing, sucking and nipping his way down the column of flesh.

When he continues his downward journey only to encounter the shirt I’m wearing a low rumbling growl escapes him and for a second I fear the garment will meet the same fate as my underwear. I can tell he seriously thought about tearing it off, but his common sense must be working better than mine because he didn’t. Instead he shifts to a kneeling position between my legs and takes hold of my waist with both hands to pull me up a bit then uses one hand to yank the V-necked blouse up over my head rather than unbuttoning it.

My arms remain extended above my head, seemingly frozen there, even after he removes the garment from them. I feel his gaze grow even hotter and watch his irises become an even deeper shade of blue as he looks at me in that somewhat submissive pose, the extension of my limbs thrusting my now bare breasts toward him.

The hand holding me up from the mattress tightens on my waist as he tosses the shirt he holds in the other one aside and moves to touch me with the freed hand. I hold my breath as I watch his fingers approach my skin, almost like it’s happening in slow motion, then release it in a rush when he brushes over my left nipple. When he repeats the too light caress on my right breast I moan and arch my back to push more of my chest into contact with his hand.

"Spike," I break the silence that had been surrounding us to whimper as he counters my move by pulling back as much as I pushed forward so that the touches remained airy and fleeting.

"Are you real?" he asks huskily, raising his eyes from my body to look deeply into mine.

Awe, disbelief, desire, hesitance, worship, love and so many other emotions are in those vibrant blue depths that I can’t speak for the lump suddenly present in my throat. Unable to find words to answer him I move my arms to wrap them around his neck, shift to a partially sitting position, press my body against his and bury my face in the hollow of his throat. The whole mood of the situation changes when he wraps his arms around my waist and he presses his lips to the top of my head, becoming more than just a loss of control or surrendering to lust, but I refuse to explore what that more might be.

For I don’t know how long we just stay like that, just … holding each other and I marvel at the peace I feel in the embrace. Dawn’s teenage rebellion, Willow overuse of magic, my whole financial situation that’s only temporarily fixed with Giles’ help and all that I’ve been dealing with since being brought back is still there in the back of my mind, but it’s not all jumbling together and overwhelming like it usually does. The ‘Spike issues’ I’ve had, constantly questioning his motives and my reactions to him since coming back, are vanquished by the moment, motives no longer seeming important.

Then his hands begin stroking over my back, reminding us both of our states of undress and the mood again becomes heavy with sexual want and need. His fingers move to take down my hair then tangle themselves in the long blonde locks to tilt my head backward.

"Is this what you came here for?" he asks, looking so deeply into my eyes that I think he must be able to see my soul and every though.

As the question sinks in part of me remembers the little black bag laying on the floor at the bottom of the bed, but I know now that the collar had only been an excuse. An excuse that, given my current situation, lacked any credibility.

"Yes," I confess quietly, accepting it to be the truth.

I’d known with each meeting this became more and more inevitable. And with each run in I wanted it more and more. Subconsciously I’d known that this is how we’d end up, despite all my earlier inner protestations to the contrary.

His mouth touches down on mine again, scattering those thoughts before I can dwell on them, in another of those amazingly soft kisses. I get lost in the sensations sparked by his lips feathering over mine as he presses me back on the mattress and lays atop me. The feel of his cool chest against my overheated flesh causes me to gasp and arch upward to increase the contact.

"Don’t," I order softly when he suddenly pulls away, evading the hands I try to drag him back with.

He shushes me with a secretive curling of his lips as he returns to a kneeling position. While I’m pondering the meaning of that smile he unexpectedly takes hold of my right leg and lifts it up to rest against his chest. The action causes me to blink in surprise until his fingers locate the zipper tab on the calf boot I’m wearing and begins to lower it, making his intentions clear. He arches his scarred eyebrow and gives me a look that seems to say "what exactly did you think I was doing" then removes the shoe and sock underneath it before tossing them aside. I roll my eyes at him, trying to pretend like I wasn’t thinking he was about to get me all twisted into one of those positions I’d seen on video covers in that adult novelty shop, but his smirk tells me he has a pretty good idea what I was thinking. With a casual air, like he did this kind of thing every day, he places the leg back on the bed then picks the left one up to remove the other boot.

After baring this foot he doesn’t immediately lower my leg as he did before. Instead he runs his hands over my calf, alternately massaging the muscle and just stroking the neatly waxed skin, relaxing and arousing at the same time. My eyelids grow heavy as I watch his ministrations and with a breathy moan of delight I allow them to close.

"Ow!" I snap them open again an instant later when my ankle is suddenly bitten.

It didn’t hurt and obviously wasn’t meant to since his chip didn’t shock him for it, but still I pout at the nip. He rolls his eyes at me like I’m the one being all immature when he’s resorting to ankle biting for attention like some child then moves to lavish kisses on the spot until my pout’s all gone. The second my eyelids begin to flutter with thoughts of closing again he runs his tongue over the sole of my foot, finding one of two places I was very ticklish and quickly exploiting it when the lick makes me squirm and bit my lip to stifle a very un-Slayer-like giggle.

He wraps one hand firmly around my ankle to keep me from pulling away as the fingers of his other hand brush lightly over the sensitive skin.

"Don’t," I stiffen my whole body in an effort not to react and order him in a very no-nonsense ‘I will so dust you if you disobey me’ tone of voice.

He recognizes the tone, has to I’ve used it with him often enough, gives me a challenging smirk and arch of that mysteriously scarred eyebrow then very deliberately repeats the touch.

"Spike," I warn with my toes curling to the point of near pain as I try to combat the tickling sensations that make me want to squirm and laugh.

"Not ticklish, are you, pet?"

The expression on his face dares me to deny the weakness and receive more tickles to prove the lie or to admit it and very likely receive more tickles to confirm the admission. Seeing it as a total no win situation I glare at him promising retribution and grab onto the sheet beneath me to brace myself for the onslaught.

It comes just as I knew it would. He instantly goes from feather light touches to merciless tickling and I kick him with my free foot to try and make him stop before I lose control and laugh. Quick as can be he grabs hold of that ankle, trapping my legs against his chest with his arm, and begins tickling the soles of both feet until I shriek his name and start giggling uncontrollably.

I struggle futilely to break his hold, writhing about and beating my fists on the mattress as my body convulses with the laughs his touch wrings from me. The sound of that laughter, so genuine and carefree, floods my ears and I realize that I’m really enjoying this.

Just as the realization sinks in he stops and slowly lowers my legs. Still shaking with the occasional giggle and my pants for breath I open eyes I didn’t remember shutting and focus curiously on him as he moves over me again.

"You should do that more often," he whispers while brushing strands of hair back from my face.

"Do what?" I ask, not really following his train of thought as I’m rather busy staring into his eyes – cerulean, that’s the shade they were right now.

"Laugh," he tangles his fingers in the locks he’s playing with and runs his gaze over my face as if committing everything about it in this moment to memory. "You glow," he bends to rub his nose against mine as his mouth hovers just a breath above the lips I’ve parted to draw in breaths my lungs no longer seemed to want. "Beautiful," he declares softly before kissing me.

I feel it, beautiful, as his mouth worships mine, sipping at my lips as if they offered the sweetest, most addictive of nectars to him. I also feel his erection settling again between my legs and his fingers brushing over my face and hair and shoulders as he continues to kiss me.

I’m on the verge of having sex with Spike and I respond enthusiastically to his kisses even as I wait for that voice of reason to chirp up again, telling me this is wrong and I have to get out now before it goes all the way.

But it doesn’t.

The only voice I hear inside myself in this moment is the one that corrects me, pointing out that what Spike was doing to me could only be called making love and calling this sex was the only wrong thing.

As I realize that I open my eyes and find him watching me. His mouth lifts from mine and I can’t help but whimper at it’s loss.

"Last chance," he offers me a final opportunity to leave and I can see in his eyes that he really will let me go if I want to, despite how far we’ve gone.

In response I move my hands to push lightly at his shoulders. A light seems to go out in his gaze, as if that simple gesture has crushed some hope within him, and he goes to move off my body. My fingers instantly curl and dig into his flesh to still that motion, causing him to look down at me with confusion wrinkling his forehead as he clearly has no idea what I want. Looking into his eyes I remove one hand from his shoulders and run it down his torso until it touches his erection. The feel of his velvety skin covering the rock hard length makes my fingertips tingle and I allow myself to be distracted for a moment as they explore his shaft.

"Buffy," his body tenses in reaction to the curious touch and the warning tone in his voice reminds me of what my hand was supposed to be doing.

I part my legs further, spreading myself open for him, take his cock in hand and guide it to my pussy. The fat, knobby head presses into the opening, stretching muscles that hadn’t been used in what felt like forever and had never taken such girth. A shudder runs through his body and I wonder if how this feels to him as he slowly makes his way further into my wet heat, patiently giving me time to adjust and relax in acceptance of each inch.

My hand goes back to his shoulder and I use both hands to pull him closer as my eyes fall shut and my mouth open at the sensations sparked by gradual his penetration. He obeys my silent command, lowering his chest again to rub against mine, creating a friction on my nipples that makes me gasp and arch upward for more. That upward thrust of my body sends the last of his length into my core, suddenly filling me to capacity in a way that makes my toes curl and muscles clench.

"Christ," he growls above me, hands fisting in my hair as his body freezes embedded deep within mine, "much of that, luv, and I’ll not last."

"Sorry," I apologize automatically for my reaction and force my muscles to relax then get to feeling all kinds of wicked at the knowledge that I had him so close so fast. "Much of this?" I ask for confirmation, looking up at him in wide eyed innocence while deliberately bringing the walls of my channel in on his length.

"Minx," he groans, smiling reluctantly at my playful question. "Hurt?" he asks with a frown of concern when he begins moving inside me and I gasp in response.

"No," I answer with a shake of my head, rolling my hips toward his and sliding my hands over his back. "More," I encourage as a tingling warmth begins to spread throughout my system from where our bodies are joined.

Our eyes lock as he begins a slow, steady rhythm of withdrawing then sliding back into me. I can see in the depths of his gaze a lingering doubt that this is really happening, a certainty that he’s still sleeping and I’m not really here like this, and it touches a chord deep inside me. I move a hand from his back to stroke and cup the side of his face as I lift my head up to lightly press my lips to his. It starts as a gentle, almost loving kiss with their mouths closed and moving slowly over each other.

Then he shifts the angle of his thrusts just a hair, managing to touch something in me that parts my lips on a gasp of pleasure and he slides his tongue into the opening. The kiss quickly intensifies from there, becoming an imitation of how our bodies are joined below, and I find myself clutching at him. My hand at his back curls into the muscles there as they flex and quiver with the movements of his body while my other hand slips up into his hair.

I close my eyes with a moan, surrendering myself to what I can’t believe I’m feeling. His mouth I hungry against mine, but not rough and devouring like I had secretly imagined it would be at a moment like this. His hands remain tangled in the long locks of my hair rather than groping and fondling. His cock is moving faster inside me, creating a friction that had my thighs gripping his hips tighter and tighter with each thrust, but he isn’t pounding into me and just taking his pleasure like I thought he would.

Like Angel and Riley and even Parker before him, he’s treating me gently. Like a lady.

Part of me relishes it, luxuriating in the rhythm with which our flesh is connecting, but another part wants more. Wants his lips to savage mine, leaving the soft folds swollen and bruised. Wants his fingers to rove urgently over my body, leaving vivid impressions wherever he grabs at me. Wants his shaft to stab into me, leaving an imprint deep inside me of what it feels like to be taken by him.

With each passing moment those wants become needs until I’m taking action to get them. My mouth grows harder against his, twisting and grinding while my tongue duels passionately with his. I begin moving my hands over every inch of him I can reach, scratching and clutching at his flesh to cut and mark it with my touch. I’m tempted to roll us over and take control of our joining, but I like the feel of his weight on me too much right now so I settle for bucking my hips up hard to meet his every inward thrust and tightening my legs around him in a vise that would break the bones of a normal man to pull him back when he withdraws.

He unexpectedly tears his mouth from mine and my eyelids flutter open to look at him, blinking in surprise when I see that his lower lip is bleeding. Realizing that I had bitten him I lick my lips and taste the rusty tang of blood there while he lifts a hand from my hair to wipe the fingers across the cut. We both stare at the red smear on his pale skin for a moment then he growls and swoops down again.

The savagery I’d wanted was there this time and I welcomed it. Returned it enthusiastically. I felt my own lip tear upon contact with his blunt teeth, but I didn’t care about it except that the metallic taste of the blood in our mouths made both of us even hungrier. As our lips began to practically battle each other his hands began roughly exploring my chest. A wild sound of pleasure goes from my mouth into his as he squeezes my breasts and pinches my nipples. At the noise he squeezes and pinches harder until the sensation nears pain, then he eases off drags his thumbs over the hard nubs as he kneads the mounds with his palms. All the while the pace of his thrusts is increasing until he’s going so hard and fast and deep inside me I close my eyes and begin to see stars.

Feeling like I can’t breathe I break our kiss and twist my face to the side to try drawing air into my lungs. I forget all about oxygen, though, when his mouth latches onto the expanse of neck exposed by the angling of my head and he begins suckling and nipping at the skin with his harmless human teeth. Then he moves a hand from my breast to worm its way between our slapping groins and search out my clit and I forget all about any and every thing beyond the mind-blowing orgasm that was suddenly roaring through me. I’m vaguely aware of screaming his name and clawing at his back as my body arches and seizes beneath his, but all that matters is that I’m finally really feeling something and that makes the release all the sweeter as it washes over me and takes me under.

It’s just a dream, I try to tell myself as the languor of my orgasm begins to fade and the reality of the situation starts sinking in. A really really vivid dream, I gulp at the feel of Spike’s body atop mine, held there by my legs still wrapped around his waist and my fingers digging into his back, and the abundance of sticky moisture between my legs that tells me I’m not the only one recovering from a climax.

You’re recovering. Feels like he’s all good to go again, that wicked little voice inside me chirps up to draw attention to the still hard shaft buried inside me that I’m trying very hard to ignore.

I had sex with Spike, I think experimentally when I just can’t write this off as a dream or hallucination or spell or anything other than what it was. I had sex with Spike.

Oh, my God, I had sex with Spike!

And liked it, the voice I dub bad Buffy adds with glee.

Oh, my God I did!

"Bloody hell," Spike growls suddenly.

I’m jerked rather violently from my thoughts by him very unexpectedly removing my clinging limbs from his body, pulling his length from me and moving off the bed. The sudden emptiness causes my muscles to clench and spasm longingly and I whimper at the loss. Eyes I’d had clenched shut to keep myself from seeing the reality of what I’d done pop open to see what’s happened.

"I asked you, I bloody asked you if you were sure," I hear him saying as I sit up and locate him, pacing the cavern and puffing angrily at a cigarette without a stitch of clothing on. "’Is this what you came here for,’ I asked," he inhales a deep draft of smoke and blows it out while stalking to the left. "’Yes,’ you said," his voice goes all high pitch as he mocks my voice. "’Last chance,’ I warned," inhale, exhale, stalking to the right. "Gave you the bloody chance to say no and walk away," puff, puff, tramping back to the left and starting to make me dizzy with the rapid movements and distracting glimpses of his prominent erection which my eyes can’t help but go to with him being all naked. "Did you take it though?" he stops for a second to glare in my direction, pointing his cigarette at me accusingly before drawing it to his lips for another drag and exhalation of smoke. "No," pacing resumes, this time with his hands moving about to accentuate his words and I’m trying to determine if he’s actually talking to me, himself or ranting at the cave. "You wrap your hot lil hand ‘round my cock and put it up in that tight little cunt of yours. You did that," another glare and accusing gesture in my direction. "Not me," he points at himself for emphasis. "I was bein’ all chivalrous and offerin’ to forget the whole thing if you wanted to change your mind. You," he strides furiously toward me and I instinctively shrink back, "took my cock and put it in your pussy," said pussy grows wetter and quivers at those words. "What the bloody hell was I supposed to do, say no thanks?!" he stomps away, giving me a view of his back which I was stunned to see covered with scratches. "But now it’s all my fault, innit," he throws his cigarette butt aside and stalks to the dresser to shake another one from it’s pack.

"I never said - " I squeak as he pauses to light up.

"Didn’t have to, did you?" he interrupts, flicking his Zippo lighter shut with barely suppressed violence and glaring at me through the puff of smoke he exhaled. "Even a nit like me can read your mind when you go all tense like that," his chin jerks toward the area of the bed we’d been laying on and I remember now that I had gone rather tellingly still while I was doing the whole ‘Oh my God I had sex with Spike thing.’ "Too bleedin’ good to be true," the puff, puff, pace routine resumes. "Knew it was too good to be true," looks like he’s talking to the walls again. "Wake up to find you coppin’ feels on me then you make me all crazy with your scent get me goin’ for a slap ‘n’ tickle then remember your self righteous indignation after I’ve gotten you off right and proper," he stalks forward, forcing me to twist around to follow his motions as he throws his cigarette aside, grabs a bottle of some kind of alcohol, removes the cap and takes a swig. "Bloody unfair, it is," he sulks, spinning in my direction again.

"Sorry?" I say a bit sheepishly, trying to soothe this temper I’ve inadvertently caused.

"Should be," he waves the bottle at me then takes another gulp of the liquor. "I didn’t ask you to do this. Not that I’m really complainin’, mind you, best shag I’ve had in years," I amaze myself by being hurt that I wasn’t his best shag ever and feeling the urge to earn that title. "But what bloody good’s that if it’s a one off?"

"I never said it was a one off," I point out, with my eyes running over his body and taking in the continued presence of his arousal with great interest. "I’ve not had a chance to say anything. I was just laying here," I stretch out on my stomach on the mattress and seductively stroke the covers where we’d been laying, "enjoying my afterglow and thinking how I’d had sex with you and liked it when all of a sudden you pull out and go all ranty for no reason."

"Really?" his scarred eyebrow arches skeptically and I somehow manage not to squirm under his searching glance. "So," he slowly recaps the bottle while approaching the foot of the bed, "you don’t regret it?"

Damn, I curse inwardly at his asking that big a question so soon and think carefully about it.

Do I regret having sex? No.

Do I regret feeling good for a change? No.

Do I regret finding myself in this situation with Spike? Not particularly.

Ok, so that wasn’t as hard to work out as I thought it would be.

"No," I give him the answer I’ve arrived at, looking him in the eyes as I say it. "I don’t regret it. I’m kinda surprised myself that it happened," I opt to go with the complete honesty route, "but I don’t regret it."

"Thought you said it’s what you came here for," he reminds, coming to a stop about a foot away.

"Subconsciously, I think I did. Consciously," I scoot over to dangle over the edge of the mattress and pick up the black bag I was reminded about by his words, "I came to give you this."

"What is it?" he shifts his gaze suspiciously to the package I’m now offering him.

"A present," I consider his possible reaction to the collar and shrug a bit self consciously. "Kind of. Just something I got for you."

"You brought me a gift?"

"Not really a ‘gift.’ Just … open it," I can’t think of a way to explain it and settle for throwing it at him.

The bell rattles when he automatically catches the bag and his expression grows curious as he flicks his gaze from me to the parcel in his hands. I find myself feeling a bit awkward as he begins to look into the bag and I pull the sheet over myself as I watch him withdraw the collar. He holds it up with a look I can’t define on his face and gives it a shake to rattle the silver bell hooked to the O-ring at the front of the inch wide black leather circlet.

"It’s a bell," he says slowly when the tinkling sound stops.

"On a nice leather collar," I begin fidgeting with the blankets and thinking it was a really stupid idea.

"So I see," he sits down on the edge of the bed, putting his bottle down on the floor. "Gonna put it on me?"

Confused by the question I just stare at him and the collar he’s holding toward me.

"Huh?"

"It’s rather traditional when you give someone something like this to wear you put it on for them. You gonna put it on me?" he clarifies. "Can’t really fasten it myself."

"Oh," understanding dawns and I blink. "You’re really gonna wear it?"

"That’s the idea, innit?" he asks with an amused slant to his lips and quirk of his scarred brow.

Surprised that he’d agree to wearing something like this without argument, I shift to a kneeling position behind him and take the collar from his hand, letting the sheet fall away as I happily concentrate on putting the item on him.

"You know what this means, don’t you?" he asks almost idly as I thread the leather through the collar’s buckle at the back of his neck, just above the silver chain he wore, slowly tightening it on his flesh.

"Yep. No more sneaking up on me with your unnaturally quiet footsteps," I fasten the collar in place then run my finger under it to make sure it’s not too tight even though I’ve no reason to worry about constricting his air or blood flow. "How’s that?" I ask him his opinion on the fit.

"In the world of domination and submission," he turns to look at me over his shoulder, not answering my question, "things like this declare ownership," he touches a hand to the black leather around his neck. "Masters and Mistresses give them to their slaves to make it clear who they belong to."

Having no idea how to respond to that bit of info I just stare into his blue eyes and lick my suddenly dry lips at the flame I see burning in his gaze.

"I await your command, Mistress," he whispers, that flame spreading to darken his eyes with a wicked desire that made me feel hot and heavy between my legs.

"I’m not your ‘Mistress,’" I protest weakly even as the idea of having him submit to me, obey my every command, makes me shiver inside and out.

"Might as well be, luv," he lifts a hand to stroke over my cheek then tangle in my hair. "I’m your slave," he whispers before pulling my mouth to his.

Those words flood me with warmth as does the loving way his lips move against mine. My hands go to his hair, stroking through the lightly curling locks then drift down to the nape of his neck to absently toy with the black strip of leather now encircling his throat. I deepen the kiss, parting my lips and forcing his mouth open with my tongue, which dives deeply into the opening it’s created to taste the alcohol he’d drunk and the cigarettes he’d smoked during his tirade. My fingers become obsessed with the collar, running over it and the flesh around the neckpiece, rattling the bell and curling under it to pull him tighter to me. All my thoughts center around his words, which grow more and more appealing as they replay in my mind.

"Things like this declare ownership."

"Mistresses give them to their slaves to make it clear who they belong to."

"I await your command, Mistress."

"I’m your slave."

I devour his mouth, pressing myself against his side and back as what he’d said fades away and a single word takes over.

Mine.

He was mine. He was saying he was mine and showing me he was mine and he was mine.

The knowledge intoxicates me faster than the liquor I’d gotten drunk on over a week ago. I pull my mouth away from his and open my eyes to find his shut for once, an expression of sheer bliss softening his features before his eyelids flutter open and he stares at me in askance of why I stopped. A feeling of power and confidence like I’ve never felt before in a situation like this fills me as I maintain eye contact while falling back on the mattress.

"Pleasure me," I demand thickly then lift a foot to bump my big toe against the bell I got him and add, "slave."

A shudder of reaction runs through him at that word and I make a mental note to use it often. He quickly shifts to kneel on the bed next to my hip, staring down at me with electric blue eyes.

"As you wish, Mistress," he drawls submissively before nuzzling his lips against the underside of my jaw.

"Lower," I gasp as he continues to lavish attention on my neck.

Without a word he obeys, moving his mouth to my breasts. I arch upward and thread my fingers in his hair again as he attempts to swallow each mound in turn, sucking on the flesh and rolling my nipples around on his tongue. The cold metal bell rakes over my skin and makes the occasional clacking noise as he moves against me, dragging the thing over me.

"Harder, slave," I demand, once again wanting more than the gentle loving he surprisingly seems to favor.

Instantly I feel the nip of teeth along with the softness of his lips on my skin. I look down to see his cheeks hollow out as he applies strong suction to the left breast he’s been worshipping when I gave my command. His eyes are closed again as he’s focused intently on giving me what I want, licking and sucking and biting at my sensitive flesh until I’m biting my lip to stifle moans and digging the heels of my feet into the mattress as my body bows up toward his mouth.

"Look at me," I order a bit breathlessly, wanting to see those eyes to know what he’s thinking and feeling right now.

His long eyelashes part to reveal the dark, desire filled orbs I wanted to see and he releases my breast with a light plopping sound then shifts his attention to the right mound. The heat of his gaze sears me as he licks his across my chest to draw the tit into his mouth. My own eyes lose some of their focus as he envelops me again, sucking my skin with all his might, applying pressure with his teeth, grinding my nipple between his tongue and palette and all the while watching me as my control threatens to break. Reluctantly I force myself to pull him back, ignoring the way my swollen teats protest at the sudden loss of action.

"Did I displease you, Mistress?" he asks huskily.

"Lower, slave," I command, ignoring his question as we both already knew the answer and pushing his head down my body.

As he obeys he encounters the bunched material of my skirt and nudges it aside with his chin to dip his tongue into my navel.

"Remove it," I tell him.

In no time at all he had the fabric gripped in his hands and was pulling it down my legs then tossing it to the floor. The second that chore’s completed he places his palms on my calves, fingers curling around the limbs, and slides them upward, exerting pressure along the way to part my legs for him to settle comfortably between them.

When he reaches my thighs he drags his thumbs briefly over the crease where leg and pelvis meet then he slides his arms underneath me and brings his hands up to rest on stomach as his mouth comes down. He nuzzles his nose against the tangled curls covering my privates, looking up the length of my body into my eyes as he inhales deeply, nostrils flaring and a growl of satisfaction escaping him at the scent of my sex drenched in both our juices. The fingers of one hand drift down over my abdomen, which is heaving with the force of the breaths I’m taking to try not to come just yet, briefly petting my curls before sliding between my folds and scissoring apart to hold the lips open.

I can tell he wants to look at what his digits have uncovered, but his gaze remains locked on mine in compliance with my ‘look at me’ command. Blindly his tongue flicks out, barely brushing over the wet flesh exposed by his index and middle fingers. A helpless shudder of response runs through me at the airy contact and I roll my hips forward to place myself closer to his mouth. On the next foray his tongue drags up the length of my slit and, though they remain open, my eyes cease to really see anything. He draws a wide perimeter around my clitoris then swirls in on the nub in ever smaller circles until he’s right on top of it. I feel his nose against my bush, the soft hairs being stirred by his unnecessary breaths. His chin is pushing against my dripping hole and a part of me is embarrassed by the fact that his face is growing slick with my juices while the rest is just getting turned on more by the idea of him wet and sticky from the secretions.

"More," I groan, mindlessly starting to grind myself against his face.

Like the good slave he seems eager to be he goes with this new whim, shifting to dive into my pussy with relish. His fingers move to stimulate my abandoned clit while his tongue dips and twirls in my core. I hear him slurping at my juices along with the wet smack of his lips as he moves to change angles so he could trust deeper and flick the very tip of his tongue against my G-spot. My body jerks up toward him and his hand flattens on my stomach, applying pressure to push me back against the mattress and hold me there.

A sound, part pleasured moan part frustrated growl, tears from my throat at the restraint and he makes up for it by going at me with greater ferocity. His fingers alternate between squeezing, rubbing and pulling at my clit while he occasionally withdraws his thrusting tongue to close his lips around my opening and apply suction, drinking from my channel and making it’s walls clench and convulse at the sensations.

He was putting my most erotic fantasy to shame with the reality of his experience and talent in this area. It felt like everything inside me was being pulled to my center when he did that sucking thing. Every movement of his digits and tongue reverberated throughout my system and seemed to touch on every nerve in my body. Then he begins growling and making other, almost purring, noises while he eats me out and each utterance vibrates against my flesh until I’m thrashing beneath him and screaming out my climax.

It just goes on and on, tensing and relaxing then tensing all my muscles with aftershocks, making me clench and convulse feverishly while he laps up every drop of come I spill into his waiting mouth. Finally I can take no more and tiredly push at his shoulders before collapsing in a boneless heap, sweating and panting for breath and shuddering uncontrollably.

"Did I pleasure you, Mistress?" he asks while shifting to stretch out against my side.

"Buffy," I mumble without opening my eyes. "Call me Buffy."

"Did I pleasure you, Buffy?" he rephrases quietly, stroking strands of hair back from my face.

Boy howdy, I think in major understatement as I try in vain to think of a word that can describe what just happened to my mind and body.

"Yes," I recover the use of enough brain cells to answer, opening my eyes to look up into his face. "You pleasured me, Spike."

He practically beams with satisfaction at that revelation and his pleased smile draws my attention to his wet lips and lower face. Amazingly, though I’ve always had a recovery time that Riley had always struggled to keep up with, I feel my languid body rejuvenating at the sight. I lift a heavy arm from the mattress and grab onto the back of his head to pull his face down to mine.

Once he’s within reach I let my tongue dart out to run over his chin, coating my tastebuds with the residue there and identifying it as my come and what could only be traces of his earlier spendings. My body, mind and senses quickly agree that we taste good together – a bit of an acquired taste maybe, but with the definite potential to become addictive. That curiosity satisfied I urge his lips apart and press my mouth hungrily against his, tasting myself again inside the moist cavern of his mouth and on his tongue as it eagerly meets mine. I feel his hardness digging into my hip and am instantly ready, willing and able to go again.

Knowing exactly what I want and feeling no qualms in taking it, I break the kiss and push him onto his back. With the innate agility of my gymnastics or Slayer training, not sure which to really credit for the flexibility of my petite form that comes in such handy when I’m working or in a situation like this, I climb atop him to straddle that erection. I sway a bit unsteadily from the sudden move, not really having gotten that much blood back to my head, and his hands are instantly on my waist to hold me upright.

We share a silent communication when I’ve got my balance back. Me smiling in thanks for the support and he leering in a way that indicated it was his pleasure to be of assistance. Smiling anew at that expression I rise up, position him at my pussy and easily sink down taking him up in me to the root. The fit feels perfect now. My walls stretch over him as if made for his presence and for a long moment I remain unmoving there as I luxuriate in just feeling.

I run my gaze over his body so willing beneath mine. His muscles are shuddering with the strain of waiting for me to make my move and let him come. I briefly admire the way the silver bell lays on his throat and the stark contrast of the black leather collar against his pale flesh before continuing upward. His jaw is clenched and features sharpened with that same strain. His lush lips are pressed into a thin line, his nostrils moving faintly with the breaths he seems to be concentrating on for control. His eyes are the real prize, though, alive with more emotions and sensations that I can name, but I recognize the important ones of love and lust. Seeing that I skillfully flex my muscles around him and bite back a smile at the way his eyelids briefly fall shut and his body tenses even more in response to the internal caress of my pussy on his shaft.

"Talk to me, slave," I order, wanting to hear that voice of his. "D’ya like that?"

"Yes, Buffy," his cock jerks inside me as I lift myself upward with my legs then stop with just the head grasped by my cunt. "I love it."

"Touch me," I demand huskily at that word on his lips.

His hands fly from my waist up to fondle my breasts in compliance with the command and I reward his quick obedience by sliding back down his length. He takes each of my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, holding them firmly then slowly starting to twist them in a clockwise direction. I gasp at that, pussy clenching unbidden as the actions sends sensation shooting straight to my core. Our eyes meet as he keeps turning the nubs until it hurts just a bit then he pulls the areolas outward, wringing a gasp and shudder from me as my chest thrusts helplessly forward to follow the tug of his digits. At that moment he stops pulling and starts twisting the hardened flesh counterclockwise.

"Such pretty little titties," he purrs, flicking his gaze down to watch his hands move. "Ripe li’l handful," he presses his palms to each mound to demonstrate that fact without easing up on his attention to my nipples. "Like that, don’t you, Buffy?" he gives each nub a sudden, sharp pull that makes my whole body jerk in response. "Christ, you’re a sight," he whispers in awe and I watch with heavy lidded eyes as he rakes his gaze over my body. "My golden girl, all spread open for me," I find myself following the direction of his gaze and looking down at my parted, lightly tanned thighs and his pale hips clutched between them.

I lean back and ease up off his length, watching with heavy pants of breath as his cock is slowly revealed to my gaze, gleaming in the candlelight with the moisture from my snatch. I shove my hips down again and watch my neatly trimmed curls mesh with the hairs surrounding the base of his shaft. I repeat the movements again and again, becoming almost hypnotized by the sight until his fingernails scrape over my nipples and snap out of the daze. Shuddering with reaction I lean over him, planting my palms flat on the bed above his shoulders and sliding up off him a bit so I can dangle my breasts over his face.

"Suck ‘em," I demand, thrusting my chest forward to emphasize the ‘’em’ to be sucked.

Instantly he removes one hand from my breast and replaces it with his mouth, sucking the mound roughly into his mouth while his fingers continue playing with my other nipple. All too soon he’s switching to give that nipple his oral attentions and letting his fingers toy with the saliva slickened nub then switching again and again until my hips are pumping and grinding against his in time with the sucking rhythm of his mouth.

Feeling a familiar tightening in my gut, I bolt upright with a gasp, tearing my breasts from his mouth and fingers to concentrate solely on the storm building in my core. I arch backward, moving my hands to the bed behind me for leverage and support. Letting go of all inhibitions I shake my hair back to tumble wildly down my spine then begin working myself toward another orgasm. I push up with a tensing of my thigh muscles, sliding along his shaft until it was in danger of slipping from my grasp, then I thrust back down with a push of my arms to impale myself completely once more, rotating my pelvis in a circular motion that had his tip moving deliciously against my womb. I repeat the process a few times until I can’t bring myself to release that much of him and my retreats become shorter.

I’m aware of him saying things as I ride him, but whole sentences escape my notice. I hear the dirty words I’d been wanting, though, and they spur me on. He groans about my ‘cunny’ and ‘quim’ and it shudders around his cock. He comments on how my ‘titties’ and hair are bouncing and I move harder to make them do it more. He growls that he’s ‘gonna cum’ and ‘flood me with his jizz’ and I want it so bad I can taste it, remembering the faint tang of his semen mixed with my juices when I licked them from his face. He starts demanding I cum with him and I feel him touching my clit.

My head snaps forward, and I gaze at him through slightly unseeing eyes as he plucks and rubs at the raw nub of nerves. I find myself focusing on the bell that’s moving and tinkling against his neck as he starts to move jerkily beneath me, fighting not to spill into me just yet.

"I’m your slave," I remember again.

Mine, I think possessively once more at the replay of his words.

"Mine," I tell him fiercely.

"Yours," he shouts, the declaration of ownership apparently being too much for him as his body bows beneath mine and his seed begins to shoot deep inside me.

Mine, I think with satisfaction as I let go myself, clamping down on his spurting length to milk it of every drop as the cool liquid sends me into a paroxysm of convulsion while I scream his name to the roof of the cavern. Our pelvises pound wildly against each other as our seemingly endless mutual orgasms run their courses. I can’t seem to stop shaking and I’m amazed my spine hasn’t snapped from my seizing muscles and I convulse again at the erotic feel of our copious juices flowing from my pussy to trickle toward my ass and over my thighs and onto his groin.

Sated to the core - heart, mind, body and soul feeling fulfilled and at peace – I fall forward onto his chest and feel his arms wrap around me, hands stroking my hair and back as he speaks hoarsely of love and beauty and poetry and perfection. The words mean nothing as my mind’s too tired to record or recognize them as of yet, but the mere sound of his voices increases my feeling of peace. Tiredly I nuzzle my face against his neck, absently kissing the black leather strip there that had led to all of this, and surrender to sleep, uncaring of the fact that it was early because it had been so long since I’d had a good rest and I knew I’d be getting one of the best ever in his arms now.

He was mine, I continue to think with a smile on my lips and a warmth in my being. The thought reminds me of the things in this world worth living and fighting for and I know I’ll be able to do both now without the hollow detachment I’d been feeling since being brought back. As exhaustion begins shutting my thoughts down I know there are still a great many things to deal with before all’s anywhere near well again in my life, but this felt like a wonderful place to start getting myself back together.

Mine, my heart sighs contentedly as Spike shifts us to a more comfortable position, causing his bell to ring a little as he moves, and I sleep.

~*~

The End

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A/N: I know I could write more with this series, but I think this is a good place to end it. Hope y’all enjoyed.