She pulled up on her knees, bouncing slightly against the mattress. Spike chuckled around his cigarette. “In a good mood, baby?”
“Yup,” she relied, grinning. “Hey, we’re in L.A.—wanna go pay Angel a visit?”
Spike coughed, his own good mood suddenly plummeting. “Why the bloody hell would I want to do that? You do know I hate the ponce, right?”
“Course you do,” Buffy replied. She picked at one of her nails, a bit of the black flaking off. “I wasn’t talking about a social call, Spike. He’s been such a dick lately. I was just thinking it might be fun, you and me…get a little revenge.”
Spike’s eyebrow cocked. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.”
“What did you have in mind, pet?”
A slow smile spread across her face, and Spike knew he was going to like this…
Ethan had to say this was one of the most enjoyable experiences of his life. Watching Ripper and his gaggle of pathetic little children try unsuccessfully to find the answer to helping the Slayer when it was right under their noses the whole time was bloody delicious.
Rupert kept telling the children they had nothing to fret about, but Ethan knew his old friend well enough to know that he was, in fact, worried enough for the lot of them. Ethan could practically see every bad – and dangerous – deed Ripper had done running through the other man’s mind as he wondered if his young charge was doing the same.
And now that it appeared she had run off with a vampire of all things… Well, this was turning out even better than Ethan could have imagined.
Still invisible to those around him, he folded his hands behind his head, leaned back against the sofa, and did what he loved best—gloat.
Buffy stood beside Spike, trembling with anticipation as she waited for him to work open the lock on Angel’s car. She knew there was a chance they could get caught at any moment – even by Angel himself – and somehow, that only seemed to add to her excitement.
“Got it,” Spike announced, grinning at her for a moment before he opened the door. “After you, baby.”
Buffy giggled, but quickly dove into the backseat, Spike following after her. As soon as the door was shut again, he was on her, pushing her down to her back and kissing her. “So how are we going to do this?” Buffy asked as Spike broke away.
He looked down at her, the yellow of his eyes glinting in the light of a nearby streetlamp. “I want him to smell you everywhere. I want the scent of you being pleasured by another man to drive him bloody mad.”
Buffy trembled, his possessiveness turning her on more than she ever would’ve thought before. “Fuck yeah…”
Spike made quick work of stripping her below the waist, a low, steady growl in his throat as he did. Buffy shook with desperate desire before he even settled between her legs, her juices dripping onto the seat beneath them.
He lifted her legs and pushed them up, making room for both of them in the back seat. Her scent was intoxicating him, and he knew when Angel smelled it mixed with Spike’s it would infuriate the older vampire. Spike thought it would serve him right for taunting him with Dru for so many years…
Although as quickly as the thought of Drusilla entered Spike’s mind, it left, all of his desire focused on the woman spread out in front of him now. He ran his finger slowly up and down her slit, moisture coating the digit. She moaned and thrust her hips towards him, wanton in her need for him.
It was a heady feeling, knowing he could make the Slayer herself like this.
Buffy, however, decided he was being too slow. She grabbed the back of his head and shoved it roughly down. Spike smirked against her and, never one to give up that sort of invitation, he began to favor her clit with hard, fast licks. Buffy keened, her fingers tightening in Spike’s hair as she ground herself against his face.
When Buffy’s body began to tighten, Spike reached up and pulled her hand from her hair and sat up. She cried out, thrusting up into the air, begging without words for the return of his tongue, but Spike had other plans. He filled her with three fingers, moving them in and out of her pussy before his mouth descended, this time lower, to her thigh. His fangs pierced her flesh, blood filling his mouth even as more ran down her skin and onto the seat beneath her.
Buffy screamed, one hand shooting out, tearing at the fabric beside her. Lights burst behind her eyelids, the orgasm she was experiencing now one of the most tense she’d ever known.
Suddenly, Spike was wrenching her up and pulling her into his lap. She realized he must’ve found a chance to undo his jeans, because before she knew what was happening, his cock was inside her, thrusting deep. Buffy moaned, grateful when he snaked his arms tightly around her because she didn’t know if she’d be able to stay upright without him.
He snarled and growled against her, full demon as he took her now. Already another orgasm was building inside of her, so soon after the last, and when she saw Spike’s focus turn to her neck, she tilted her head to the side without protest, offering him what he needed.
He took it, and this time they came together.
His cock soft but still nestled inside of her, Spike continued to hold Buffy against him, his hand shaking as he rubbed her back. After several moments, she looked up, her nose crinkled.
“I can smell sex in here.”
Spike smirked. “It’s gonna make ol’ broody pants go batty.”
Buffy giggled. “Serves him right for being such a dick. L.A.’s his town and I should stay out. Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I was fucking born here.”
Spike arched an eyebrow. “He said that?”
“Yup.” Buffy replied with a nod. “And then, he came back to Sunnydale and beat up Riley.”
“Well, can’t really fault him for that last part,” Spike said with a shrug.
Buffy snorted. “Yeah, looking back, neither can I. What was I thinking dating that idiot?” She shuddered.
“Temporary insanity?”
“Ha. Well, at least I got over it and found someone better.” Buffy leaned in and nibbled lightly at Spike’s neck. “Someone who knows how to satisfy me every time.”
Spike’s hand roamed down to cup her bare bottom. “Captain Cardboard didn’t know how to do it for you, sweetheart?” he teased lightly.
Another nip to his neck. “Not like you, baby. I got so sick of laying under his too-bulky, sweaty body.”
“Not gonna have that problem with me.”
“No. You’re all hard, cool muscle. And you fit so perfectly with me, Spike.”
He looked up then, examining her face in the darkness with his head cocked to one side. “We do fit, don’t we?”
“Yeah.” Buffy giggled. “Who woulda thunk it?”
“A week ago, probably no one.” Spike tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “Does this mean something to you, Buffy? More than just amazing sex?”
Her blush as she ducked her head was concealed by the darkness. “Why? Does it mean more to you?”
Even if he knew there was the chance he could have his heart stomped on yet again, Spike didn’t hesitate in his answer. “Yes.”
Buffy looked back up. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He laughed nervously. “Hell, this sounds crazy even to me, but I think I’m falling in love with you, Slayer.”
He expected ridicule, maybe even anger. Despite her sudden personality change, he never expected the Slayer to respond well to his declaration of possible love.
What he didn’t expect was a kiss.
It was a crowed club, and yet all eyes kept seeming to travel to the blond couple on the dance floor. Yet they seemed to be in their own world, almost oblivious to the fact they were surrounded by other people, a fact made clear when he picked her up and carried her off, her legs wrapped around his waist and her lips fastened to his neck.
They ignored two women standing at the sinks as they pushed into the bathroom and into one of the stalls, Spike bothering to lock the door only to ensure that Buffy wouldn’t tumble to the ground when he pushed her against it.
He held her with one hand while he removed a boot, then switched to the other side, taking off that one as well. “As bloody sexy as you look in leather, pet, I think you need to get yourself an easy access skirt or two.”
Buffy giggled as the leather pants in question hit the floor. “Why don’t I just cut a hole in the crotch for you?” she teased.
“Don’t tempt me,” Spike growled. “If it was up to me, you’d spend all your time on your back with your legs up.”
“You’re such a romantic,” Buffy replied drolly, though as soon as he thrust inside of her, her tone changed. “Uhn…forget romance. This is better.”
He smirked at her. “You know you want this all the time, too, luv.”
Buffy moaned, her eyes rolling up in her head as he hit her in the exact right spot. She did. She felt drunk of desire for him. Even with Angel she’d never felt want as intense as this.
The stall door shook on its hinges, but surprisingly managed to support the two overly-amorous superbeings.
When Buffy came this time, she was the one to lean in and take a bite, her teeth tearing into Spike’s neck. He cried out in surprised pleasure and slammed her hard against the door before spilling inside of her.
Even as she came down from her orgasmic high, Buffy still lapped at the wounds on his neck, moaning softly as she tasted his blood. Spike closed his eyes in bliss, one hand stealing up to stroke her hair as he realized he hadn’t been completely honest with her in the backseat of Angel’s car. He wasn’t falling in love with her.
He was in love with her.
And when she pulled up from his neck, met his eyes, and licked the last bit of his blood from her lips, he knew his fate was sealed.
But before he could say the words, she’d slipped from his grasp and was struggling to get dressed again in the stall. Spike fastened his jeans, deciding the dirty bathroom of a nightclub probably was not the best place to make that declaration anyway.
When they stepped out of the stall, the two women were still standing there, slack-jawed. Buffy could see the mixture of envy and desire in their eyes as they looked at Spike, and a primal part inside of her wanted to scream at them, ask them why they didn’t see her mark on his neck. But instead she grabbed him for a deep, slow kiss, making her possession of this man clear in a way the two other women understood.
Her point made, Buffy walked out of the restroom with Spike’s arm around her and a contented smile on her face.
It was nearly dawn when Giles was awakened by a pounding at his door. He grumbled as he sat up straight on the couch, the latest book he’d been researching from tumbling to the floor.
He fumbled for his glasses as he made his way to the door, assuming it was one of the teens coming back to begin their search to help Buffy yet again—most likely Willow given that this was not an hour at which Xander was accustomed to being awake.
Giles was taken by surprise, however, when he opened the door to Angel instead.
Angel spoke without preamble. “Giles, it’s Buffy. She’s in trouble.”
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