Buffy felt as if her entire body was being engulfed in a slow-burning flame, as Spike’s hands and mouth took up a torturously slow, teasing exploration of her body. Her hands pulled uselessly against the chains that bound her as she longed to touch him, to hold him to her, to take him inside her…
But that particular pleasure, he withheld from her – for now.
She was utterly powerless to make her desire a reality. It was a frightening and arousing feeling to know that in this scenario, all the power was in his hands. She had willingly surrendered herself to his control, because she had known that anything less would have been to risk his life, and the lives of her family.
But she had not imagined that such surrender could bring her so much pleasure.
Or that she could even entertain such a thought of surrender, without provoking the rage of the Slayer inside her.
Her command to Spike, not to obey any commands that contradicted with her original command until he had claimed her as his own, seemed to have had an amazing effect on her demon. It seemed that the thing knew that there was no way she could work around the power of a claimant’s command; she apparently preferred to save her energy for the upcoming battle that would follow the claim.
That thought gave Buffy a moment’s trepidation, as her racing mind was tempted to go down the path of worry, to think about that battle, what was to come, how they were going to manage it…
No, she thought with an almost desperation. She did not want to think about this right now. She wanted to lose herself to the intensity and pleasure of her mate’s touch.
Completely in tune with her desires, aware of her worries and her needs, Spike immediately took measures to distract her mind from its fears and apprehensions.
“Spike – now…I need you…I need you…” she gasped, breathless as his hand caressed a slow circle on her sensitive breast, his throbbing, swollen erection gliding slowly up and down against her center without quite entering her.
All other thoughts were immediately erased from her mind except those of Spike, his hands, his mouth, his body uniting with hers…making her *his*…
That thought was the most tantalizing of all.
To be eternally joined with someone who loved her as much as Spike clearly loved her – to belong to someone whom she could know would never abandon her, never betray her, always cherish her as his most highly prized treasure.
God, she *wanted* to be his!
“Please…please…do it now…”
“But, Buffy,” Spike objected, eyes wide with false innocence. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp that was the only light in the room, his wide crystal blue eyes and full pouty lips gave his face an almost cherubic beauty.
*Yeah. Right.*
“I don’t know when I’ll get such an opportunity again,” he went on with false sobriety, “a beautiful, naked Slayer – in chains and at my mercy – probably never gonna happen again,” he shrugged matter-of-factly with a teasing little smirk, though his affection for her was clear in his eyes. “Best make the most of it, don’t you think?”
The Slayer’s eyes narrowed with frustrated anger.
“You’re right,” she ground out darkly, warningly, though the force of her tone was lost somewhat in the trembling breathlessness that accompanied his still-busy fingers as they slowly made their way down between her breasts, gliding across her navel on their way down to her nether regions. . “Never gonna happen – a-*gain*…*gah*!”
The dubious words, intended to be a threat – sort of a “take me now before I explode, if you ever want to touch me again once I get out of these chains” sort of thing – proved utterly useless in achieving her desired level of intimidation, as they ended suddenly in a gasp.
Spike’s fingers had found what they had sought in their slow journey -- the needy core of her body that thrust futilely up toward the exploring digits that slipped past its walls, up toward his elusive member that still had barely touched her. It was the desperate gasps and moans at the contact that he *did* grant her that made her efforts at getting what she wanted – well – less than effective.
Spike was clearly enjoying his position of power, using it to tease her mercilessly, driving her ever nearer to the edge of the pleasure she sought, again and again, only to withdraw it before granting her the satisfaction she craved.
“See?” he smiled, his fingertips on her breast slowly swirling inward toward her nipple in a teasing way that only served to increase her desperation, as her back arched, trying to press her needy mound into a cool, smooth hand that had already moved on. “Like I said – this might never bloody happen again -- so I’d best take my time this time around, yeah?”
*Yeah…* the Slayer thought with dark frustration, *he’s *never* gonna get me in chains again after tonight…no way am I gonna let him do this to me a…*aaauugghh*…*
The sound that escaped Buffy’s throat as Spike’s expert fingers dipped inside her and drove her desire steadily higher could only be described as a very un-Slayerish whimper. Her heedless struggles against the chains that prevented her from returning his touch as she longed to, grew more frantic, more desperate and intense, as a fresh wave of pleasure coursed through her body with every touch of his hand, each touch a paradox in itself -- thrilling, yet torturously frustrating in that it was not enough.
She needed *more*!
“Spike!” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Please…Spike…” as she writhed helplessly under him on the bed in an increasingly fevered, slowly building frenzy.
“Buffy,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to slowly, tenderly kiss her throat, as his hands slid slowly from her waist down to her hips, one gliding inward to graze lightly over the surface of her center, raising his lips to whisper near her ear, “Love you, Buffy…”
As he spoke the tender words that she had already felt to be true – felt in every touch, saw in every look he gave her – but was not sure yet if she could truthfully return -- Buffy felt a wave of warmth and emotion course through her, mingling with the sweet fiery pleasure of his cool touch.
“Spike,” she whispered breathlessly, an aching longing in her voice, as she poured out the feelings that she *was* sure of, “need you…want you…”
Her head was thrown back, and her eyes were closed, lost in the sensations he was creating in her – so she missed the brief flash of hurt that crossed Spike’s face at her failure to return his words of devotion. What she *had* said was sweet, driving his own need higher at the knowledge that she wanted him, needed him, even if her feelings were merely a result of their blood bond.
It was more than he had ever expected that such a glorious creature could take him as her own, could desire him so much.
But he wanted so much more.
“Please,” Buffy whimpered without thought for her pride, as the vampire withdrew his hand from her longing body once again. “Spike – please…”
Spike was fighting off a wave of sadness, even through the physical pleasure he was feeling, at the realization that she did not love him, as he had hoped. The Slayer, lost in the sensations filling her body, was oblivious to his distraction, writhing, desperate, struggling each moment to somehow increase the contact between them.
“Spike – Spike…” she whispered. “Need you – God, what you do to me! *Spike*!”
“Do you want to be mine, Buffy?” he asked her in a hushed, intense whisper near her ear that was yet tinged with his vulnerability and uncertainty.
He reminded himself that it had really only been a few days, as she had said, since they had been mortal enemies. It was too much to ask for her to be immediately in love with him. It was too much to expect – ever. He still held a strong hope that she would develop the love he already felt for her – but for now, he wanted to know beyond all doubt that she understood what she was agreeing to, and that she would not regret it later.
“You’re sure, Buffy? Forever?” he pressed, reminding her of the power of the commitment she was about to make.
“*Yes*!” she gasped, and the sincere longing, the desire, were clear in her voice. “Forever – please, Spike – now! Please…I need you so much…”
He hovered over her for just a moment longer, his heart and mind processing the deep nameless emotions that lay beneath her feverish pleading, realizing that even if what she felt was not love – not yet – she really did want to be his. Slowly – gently – gazing at her with a wondering tenderness in his eyes that would have stolen her breath away, had her eyes been open – he lowered himself down into her, unable to take his eyes off of her as he did.
He watched her with an intensity, a sort of awe in his piercing gaze, drinking in every nuance of her expression as it shifted in response to the connection they were sharing. Her head fell back slightly, her lips parting in a shuddering gasp of shocked pleasure and fulfillment. Her body arched at the intense contact for just a moment, before relaxing, melting into him, as she pressed her body upward slightly, as if to get as close to him as she could possibly get.
He could feel her desire for him, through their bond, and it was infinitely reassuring. Maybe she did not love him – not yet – but there was no denying the feelings she *did* have for him, even if they could not quite be defined.
Maybe she didn’t love him – but that would not stop him from worshipping her.
“Buffy,” he whispered as his body began to move inside hers, drawing her along with him, upward toward heights of glorious pleasure. “Buffy, love – love you – need you – want you…only you…”
“Spike!” she cried out his name as his thrusts began to slowly intensify within her. “*Spike*! Need you! Yes…make me…*yours*, Spike…yours…” Her words all began to run together into a barely coherent string of random, half-uttered thoughts.
She was close – he could feel it not only through their bond, but in the tremulous fluttering he felt of her body surrounding him, drawing him ever nearer to the edge of his own release as well
“Can’t wait – need you – please,” Buffy’s whispered chant filled his ears as he pulled her closer to him. “…please, Spike, *now*!”
The desperation, the raw need and desire in her hoarse, pleading voice drove him only that much nearer to his climax. Without changing the rhythm of their movements, he shifted smoothly into his game face, lowering his mouth to hover over her wildly pulsing throat.
“*Mine,*” he whispered in a rough, passionate tone against her skin. “My Slayer – my Buffy – my mate. Forever -- *mine*…”
The Slayer nodded weakly, her breath coming fast and shallow as she gasped out softly but earnestly, “*Yes*! Yours – your mate – always yours, Spike, forever!”
The passionately intense tone of her voice, speaking words he had longed to hear for so long, was the remaining push, and the permission that he needed, and he sank his fangs into her throat with a possessive, primal growl.
“*Mine*!”
“*Yours*!” Buffy answered, accepting his claim.
The taste of her sweet, strong blood filling his mouth, the sound of the simple but powerful word from her lips, sent him soaring over the edge of ecstasy, as with one final thrust he brought Buffy to her climax as well, and they were swept away together in a wave of pleasure and connection more powerful than anything either of them had ever felt before.
As it passed, Spike held her close to him, sliding out and off of her to lie beside her on the bed, his hands clutching her to him almost desperately. Suddenly, the need to be close to her was almost overwhelming – as if he needed to prove to himself that it had really happened – she was really his.
Apparently, she felt the same way, leaning into him as much as she could, although she could not move her own arms to take him into them as she longed to. The way that her fingers flexed instinctively against her bonds told him that she craved the closeness, the intimacy, wanted to hold him to her every bit as much as he wanted to hold her.
He reached up to unlock the chains that bound her, without hesitation.
Their claim was equal now; whatever power it had given her over him before, his claim now gave him over her as well, making them equally matched; and besides, she was physically too weakened to harm him from the combination of the blood he had taken and the force of the climax she had just experienced. The Slayer demon would know that, and would not waste her energy attacking now, when she had to know that it would be useless.
Spike felt a tremendous sense of relief in knowing that he could simply lie here with his mate, for the moment, free of fear.
It was perfectly safe.
Her trembling arms fell to the bed heavily for just a moment, before she rolled weakly over onto her side, snuggling down and nestling into the cool, strong embrace of her vampire lover. They just lay there in each other’s arms, clinging to each other as the sweet, euphoric haze of their union slowly drifted away, and them with it – into a deep, peaceful sleep.
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