She’d seen it happen. She’d seen Spike look at her and then vanish. She’d seen the demon overpower him, and the only thing that terrified her more than being alone with him—with the side of him that hated without prejudice—was the knowledge that she’d recognized it. The knowledge that there had been no doubt. No fleeting bout of confusion. Spike was there and then he wasn’t, and she knew it.
His eyes were burning amber and he was growling softly as he dragged her away from the slayer that he’d left unconscious among the gravestones. Buffy didn’t try to fight him. His grip was ironclad and she hadn’t the strength to protest. Though if those fangs turned to her throat, she wouldn’t stop herself from screaming bloody murder.
Only for the way the demon’s thumb kept rubbing circles into her wrist, she didn’t think that it was his intention to hurt her.
“Spike?” she asked, feeling weak and idle. Her eyes were still wet with tears. Tears prompted by his words, his righteous defense of her honor as he kicked the living hell out of Faith. He’d moved her so much, and he’d been gone before she could tell him. Buffy gasped at his answering growl, and barely had time to collect her thoughts before he shoved her against a mausoleum wall. “Spike, it’s Buffy. Do you—”
The next thing she knew, his lips were tearing kisses from hers, sucking her tongue into his fanged mouth as he pulled her hips against him so that his hard cock was cradled in the valley between her legs. Her panic evaporated into lust, and she didn’t even have time to contemplate what that meant—craving Spike’s demon alongside Spike himself—before he pulled away with a snarl and shoved her to her knees.
“Spike?”
His demon eyes flashed with a sort of primal recognition, but nothing more. He answered with a twisted growl as his hands ripped at his fly. And when she gasped in realization of his intent, he took her open mouth as an invitation and stuffed his cock down her throat.
“Mmphhff!”
He slammed against her with a few quick thrusts, his balls slapping her chin. Buffy was paralyzed with a strange combination of fear, disgust, and arousal; she’d never done this before. She’d never had her mouth around a cock before, and truth be told, she hadn’t given the whole oral thing a lot of thought until Spike roared back into her life. Until their incredibly physical relationship took off with a giant bang.
Now it was happening. She could barely believe it was happening. Her head rocked against the fierceness of his thrusts and the instant she tried to do anything but sit dumbly with her mouth open, her gag reflex kicked in and she choked.
God, she was pathetic. Dru probably never choked when things got a little rough.
She choked again when the head of his cock stabbed the back of her throat. Spike growled, then jerked roughly, his snarls melting to helpless gasps. He blinked rapidly and glanced down. “Buffy?” His erection slipped out of her mouth and she looked up, her cheeks flaming. If the world had any mercy, it would provide a hole for her to fall through before her humiliation was complete.
“Oh God.” Spike dropped to his knees, the face of his demon melting away, his eyes wide with horror. “Your mouth. Your pretty little mouth.” He kissed her lips sweetly. “I’m sorry. I’m so bloody sorry, Buffy. I have no idea what…I jus’…” It shook her, how hard he was trembling. “I din’t mean to…I never meant to force you to…” His lips grazed the corner of her mouth with a tremulous sigh. “I never meant to make you…do that.”
She blinked dazedly. “Spike?”
He kissed her chin. “God, your mouth’s all bruised.”
He’d stopped her. Buffy blinked again, realization stunning her cold. He’d stopped her. She didn’t know why that stung so much. It wasn’t like she’d been any good at it—hell, she’d choked on what he’d shoved down her throat. No, she wasn’t any good, but she’d wanted to try. After what he’d said to Faith, after everything he’d done for her, she’d wanted to give herself to him for whatever he needed. Whatever his demon needed. And at that moment, for some reason, he’d needed her lips around his erection.
“Was I that horrible?” she sniffed. “Lemme try again. I’ll do better.”
Spike’s head reeled back, his eyes swimming in confusion. “Sweetheart?”
Her hand dove for his stiff cock, and she flushed with womanly pride at his answering moan. “Let me try. I’ll do better.”
“Buffy, you didn’t do anything wrong. I—”
She cut him off with a fierce kiss, her flush warming when he whimpered against her lips. “Let me try,” she murmured, trailing a path of kisses down his neck and chest. “Stand up.”
Spike moaned in protest. “Buffy—”
“Stand up.”
The conflict in his eyes was jarring, but he didn’t deny her. Instead, he nodded fiercely, kissed her, and rose to his feet. It wasn’t until she was staring at his cock again that she lost her nerve. He looked so…
“Big.”
Spike chuckled and slid his fingers up and down his length. “You bring it out in me.”
“Spike…”
He glanced down at her, and the humor in his eyes vanished. She didn’t know what did it; the change was so sudden. “Fuck,” he gasped, his jaw clenching. “Buffy…please.”
“Please what?” She didn’t mean to be ornery. Her nerves were just pulling a massive number on her. Her hand tentatively reached up and curled around his cock, and she licked her lips in anticipation. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I don’t know what to do.”
“For Chrissake pet, suck me or stand up. Stroke me or stake me. Jus’ make up your mind!” Spike was shaking hard, his eyes blazing yellow again. “I can’t look at you if you…not when you’re on your knees in front of me. I can’t take it. And I don’t want you doing something you don’ wanna do. You don’t—”
Buffy drew in a sharp breath and brushed a hesitant kiss over his silky head, and the moan that ripped through him made her blood sing. “Just tell me what to do,” she whispered shakily, her hands dropping into her lap again. “Please, Spike. I’ve never…this is another…another—”
“First?” he ventured, a ghost of a smile floating across his lips.
She nodded. “Uh huh,” she replied, sliding her right hand up his leg slowly until she was cupping his balls. “I…what do you like?”
“Your mouth.”
“Oh.”
“Buffy…please. It’s you. It’s your hands an’ your mouth, an’ do you honestly think I’m not gonna bloody well treasure whatever you give me?” He ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp in a way that made her feel cherished. “Jus’…oh God.”
Her tongue circled his sensitive head again before drawing him completely into her mouth. The sensation was odd but not unpleasant. Buffy murmured experimentally around him and reveled in the long whimper that rippled through his body. The idea that she could do so much to him by doing so little was heady, especially considering the wealth of things he did to her. The wealth of what he’d given her, none of it deserved.
What he’d said to Faith meant the world to her, and she was determined to show him.
“That’s it, pet,” he murmured. “That’s jus’ perfect, there.”
Perfect? She hadn’t done anything.
“Take me in,” Spike urged softly, thrusting his hips forward. “As far as you can go. Let me know if it’s too much.” Buffy nodded and he moaned. “An’ your hand…massage my balls with your hand.”
The request sounded illicit and dirty, but she wasn’t about to back away. She’d asked for this, and he was letting her explore. Letting her try this thing that seemed daunting and forbidden and symbolized everything she wasn’t. The girl in her was running scared, but the woman was taking over. The woman who wasn’t a vamp-slaying machine—the woman who was growing into her femininity. Spike had done so much to bring the woman out without even realizing it, and now the woman wanted more. The woman wanted to know what it would take to keep him. Her inexperience notwithstanding, there was nothing she wasn’t willing to try now that she knew that she loved him.
Spike hummed in approval when her fingers began gently kneading his sac. “Ohhh, yeah,” he purred. “That’s it, kitten. Now take more of me into…ahhh, that’s a good girl.”
Buffy flushed and bathed him with her tongue, drawing back just enough that the tip of him was still in her mouth and sucking delicately. “Keep talking,” she whispered, wrapping her left hand around the base of his cock.
“You feel like heaven,” he growled. “Do you have any idea how often I’ve dreamt of this? Of…oh, God, of your lips wrapped around me? Your tongue licking me into bloody oblivion? You feel so wonderful. So…”
She sighed around him, the hand around his cock pumping in time with her mouth, her left hand squeezing his balls every time the tip of him met her lips. His small, encouraging whimpers soon drove her nerves away, and then she settled, relaxed, sucking his skin and squeezing him as tight as she dared. Spike gasped and tossed his head back, and the sight was so gorgeous she couldn’t help but gasp.
“Oh fuck,” he roared, blinking. “You’re perfect.”
He slid from her mouth with a wet plop. “I am not,” she objected, her hand stroking him fervently, her cheeks burning.
“Oh my God.”
“Spike—”
“Kiss the underside. Ohhh, yeah, that’s it. God, your mouth is so bleeding perfect.” She parted her lips to object again and, for the second time that night, found her mouth full with his cock; only when she looked up this time, a knowing leer teased his lips.
“You love this, don’t you?” he growled. “I can smell how much you love it. How wet it makes you. You love knowing what you do to me. How hard you make me. How much I want you. How I always want you.”
She moaned around him, and his experimental thrusts grew more pronounced.
“You love this,” Spike repeated. “Nod for me, baby. Let me know you love it.”
She nodded.
“Ohhhh, yeah…again.” He hissed and fisted a handful of her hair, and his body tensed. “Oh my fuck. Buffy. Stop. You gotta stop.”
Her mouth froze around him as her heart stopped. When she glanced up, his crystal eyes were blazing with need.
“Get up,” he said quickly. “Get up. Lift your skirt.”
“Spike—”
An impatient roar tore through his lips, his hands gripping her shoulders and dragging her back to her feet. Then her skirt was bunched around her waist and her panties ripped clean off her body. The silky head of him rubbed against her sopping flesh, his thumb settling over her clit.
“Say it,” he growled against her mouth, his cock teasing her slick pussy lips as he pressed her back against the mausoleum wall. “Say you want me. Say it!”
“I want you,” she sobbed, nodding desperately. “Please, Spike.”
He grinned and kissed her, sinking into her body with a groan of completion. “God, how I’ve missed this,” he moaned, his mouth dropping to her throat as he began moving inside her. “I’ve missed your warmth so much.”
Buffy threw her head back, her arms linking around his neck. “I’ve missed this, too.”
“Your plan’s driving us dodgy, luv.”
She knew it. God, how she knew it. Now with Spike’s cock driving into her pussy rhythmically, his hands mapping the contours of her body as his mouth worshipped her skin…yes, she’d missed this. She’d missed the peaks her body scaled when joined with his. And even more so now—now that she knew she loved him, having him inside her took on more meaning than she could have anticipated. Now that she knew she loved him, everything had changed.
He felt so different, but he was the same. His kisses were the same. The fire in his eyes was the same. The hands that caressed her were the same. The tongue that licked at her skin was the same. She absorbed him, committed him to memory. Engrained him where she could keep him forever, even after he’d left.
After he’d gone back to the place he truly belonged.
Spike slipped a hand beneath the hem of her shirt and stroked her skin, his mouth nibbling a series of wet kisses back to her lips. “You feel so good. God, you feel good.”
“You do, too.”
He smiled and kissed her. “Buffy.”
“Hmmm?”
“Our first second.” He buried his face in her throat, his fingers slipping under the underwire of her bra to caress her naked breast. His right arm hooked around her waist as his thrusts grew harder. “This is our first second.”
Her eyes watered and she trembled hard around him. Spike had done the impossible; he’d given her what no man ever had before. A second. A second time doing anything. They’d had sex several times now, sure, but somehow, Spike always reminded her that he was giving her yet another first in whatever they did. And he relished that. He loved giving her firsts almost as much as she loved experiencing them. She wanted him giving her firsts in everything.
But now he’d given her something no man ever had. And yes, it was something small—second time outside against a wall at night—but the fact that he’d noticed meant the world.
Spike’s hand abandoned her breast and slid between them once more, his mouth dropping to suck at her nipples through the thin material of her blouse. He was rocking her against the wall, rubbing her clit between his thumb and forefinger as his cock worked her pussy. He murmured unintelligible adorations around her breast, stroking her clit until she cried out and spasmed around him, clutching at him helplessly.
“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he murmured.
“Ohhh…”
“I love it. God, I love how you feel when you come around me.” He raised his head slowly, his fingers continuing their cool manipulation of her sensitive pearl as his body pushed forward for his own release. “I love feeling your pussy tighten around me. I love the li’l sound you make. You’re a siren. You’re a bloody siren. An’ you’re all mine.”
She felt slick and sensitive, and every time he slid back into her, every time he caressed her aching clit, her body cried out in strained pleasure. It was too much. It was all too much. She was trembling and he was going to send her over the edge again. Right along with him.
“Yes,” he growled, his thrusts sharpening again. “I wanna feel you come again, baby. You’re gonna come with me.”
Buffy shook her head in desperation, trying futilely to ignore the hot rush that flooded her veins. “I can’t.”
“Never say never.”
He was right, of course. He was always right. It didn’t hurt that his fingers almost grazed the bite mark on her inner thigh. Almost. Not quite. The near-contact of her overly-sensitive flesh with his was all she needed. As he growled and spilled himself inside her, her body exploded into bliss.
There had never been a feeling like this before. Never. Spike purred as she came down, nuzzling her tenderly, murmuring into her throat and hair and stroking her with hands that loved her. At the very least, his hands loved her.
“We forgot the plan again,” Spike breathed against her ear.
Buffy just laughed. Right. The plan. The plan. The one that she’d come up with to guard her heart. The one that had betrayed her. Her heart had surrendered, and she was already sick with the thought of what was to come.
What would happen in the end.
But for now, she had these moments with him. These brief interludes between attempts to get back on the plan. When she could calm his monster by giving over more of herself. When she could hold him and let him give her firsts, and not worry about the plan or consequences of getting off the plan until afterward. When she could pretend that she wasn’t digging her own grave a little deeper. She had this. The break. The intermission. The stolen moments.
At least until the sun came up and she found herself heartsick all over again. She had this until then.
To be continued