“Shh… There’s no need to yell, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He looked up sharply, his breath catching in his chest at the sight of Buffy in the doorway. Her burns were gone, her skin flawless and pale again, set against the dark burgundy of the dress she wore. She was gorgeous, and Spike’s mouth watered, his hands aching to touch her.
“I’m only going to give you what you want,” Buffy told him as she walked slowly towards the bathtub, her hips swaying with an alluring rhythm Spike couldn’t help but be hypnotized by. She climbed into the tub with him, straddling his hips, her arms draped over his shoulders. “I know exactly what you want, William. What you crave.”
She ground herself against his crotch as she leaned in, her cool tongue licking straight up his neck. Spike moaned, thrusting his hips up, desperate for more of her. Buffy ran her hands down his chest, stopping at his waist, where she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his erection out into her hands. Slowly, she raised her body up, positioning herself over his cock, and Spike held his breath as she slid down, pulling him into her body.
Fully seated inside of her, he moaned. Buffy responded with a Cheshire cat grin before she began to move, riding him at a ruthless pace, wringing both pain and pleasure from him. Spike was helpless, the chains allowing him to do nothing but stay still beneath her, at her mercy.
“Tell me you want it,” Buffy said in a breathy voice. “Tell me what you need, Spike. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”
“Oh, Buffy…” Spike groaned, pitching his hips up. “I want it, pet. I do…”
She leaned her head in again and whispered against his ear. “What do you want, William?”
His answer was barely more than a whisper. “Peace…”
She sat upright on him again, and Spike watched as her beautiful, youthful features shifted into something demonic. With a hiss, she lunged down again, snarling into his neck as her fangs tore his skin, granting him sweet release.
Spike woke up panting, his body covered in sweat. He was sitting on the sofa bed, a half-read magazine spread across his lap. Buffy was beside him, curled up asleep, completely unaware of what was going on around her.
His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, images from the dream he’d just had still vivid in his mind. The way it had felt to be inside of her… The way it had felt when she was inside of him…
He needed air. And nicotine. Spike got up from the bed, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter before he went outside. He lit a cigarette, then leaned against the balcony, taking long, unsteady drags as he attempted to calm his nerves.
He could no longer deny that he was attracted to her. It didn’t bother him that he found her physically attractive – after all, she was absolutely beautiful. What did bother him was that he was also attracted to what she was. He supposed he couldn’t do what he did without being at least a little bit in love with death, though it was never something that sat well with him. He hadn’t wanted to be a monster, and because of that, had always fought the attraction, resisted the desire to finally give in and no longer have to suffer the pain of living.
But one look from Buffy made him want to stop fighting anymore.
It would be the easy way out, but sometimes, he got so tired of always doing things the hard way.
And Buffy… Despite all the reasons he shouldn’t, he found himself wanting her. If it weren’t for her injuries, he may have already done something he’d regret, but he kept being stopped by the knowledge that using her body the way he wanted to would only cause her more pain in her current state. He hoped by the time she healed, he would’ve gotten more control over himself.
Although how he’d manage to do that when he was in such close quarters with her, he didn’t know.
He stubbed out his cigarette and went back into the apartment, the sight of her asleep in his bed taking his breath away. She looked so innocent in the white cotton shift he’d brought for her, nothing like the killer she truly was.
He knew in that moment, he’d never be able to dust her.
It went against everything he believed in, but when this was all over, he was letting her go. Even if the deaths of everyone she fed on afterwards were on his head, he knew he’d be able to handle that more than he would the knowledge that her blood was on his hands.
She stretched, made a tiny mewling sound, and Spike observed her with a sense of wonder – as if he were watching her come back to life. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled softly at him, making his heart constrict in his chest.
No, he could never hurt her again…
“Did you go somewhere?” Buffy asked as she set up in the bed, stretching her arms above her head. Her nightgown rose up, giving Spike a view of her thighs, and his eyes centered in on the one that had been least affected by the holy water. Her skin looked so smooth there, so soft. He knew it would feel good under his hands…or wrapped around his waist.
“I was just having a smoke. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s all right. I’ve been sleeping all day anyway. Sun’s almost down.” She lowered her arms. “Did…did you need me to let you put me back in the tub so you can get some rest?”
Her question made his heart hurt. He knew now what being in the tub did to her, and for her to offer to go back for him… “No, baby, you don’t have to go in there again,” he assured her. “I can sleep with you out here. I actually slept for a bit while you did.”
“Oh,” Buffy replied, the sound of him calling her “baby” making her feel all fluttery inside. “It’s okay if you do that, you know. I’m not gonna bite you in your sleep or anything…”
Spike blushed and looked down, the memory of the dream he’d had rushing back to him. “I know.” He cleared his throat, then looked up again. “Did you need more blood?”
“If you don’t mind,” Buffy replied.
“Not at all. I’ll heat it up for you.” Spike went over to the kitchenette, grateful to have something to do beside ask her if she’d bite him if he asked her nicely…
Buffy watched him as he prepared her dinner, her eyes carefully taking in everything he did. She could’ve sworn she’d smelled a flare of arousal from him when she’d mentioned biting, and she wondered if it was nothing more than wishful thinking. Because she’d certainly given more than a little thought to the idea of biting him. And not in the bad way…
He just looked so…tasty.
Soon, he came back to her with the blood, and Buffy smiled at him as she took it, murmuring her thanks before she began to drink.
He sat at the end of the bed, his eyes trailing over her legs again, only this time he was assessing her injuries. They didn’t appear to be getting better at all, a situation he found very troubling. “Do you want me to put some of the burn cream on you again?” he asked her.
“Please,” Buffy replied. She swallowed the rest of her blood, then set the mug on the floor. She was surprised when he took hold of the hem of her nightgown then, tugging it up, and urging her to let him slip it over her head. She knew she’d been nude the first time he’d applied the cream, but she hadn’t really expected him to want to be that way again. Though she supposed it made sense, since several of the burns would be covered otherwise.
He said nothing as he began to spread the cream on her skin, rubbing it into her sore legs and arms. When his hands traveled up her inner thighs, Buffy couldn’t help the hitch in her breath. His hands felt so good on her, soothing her aches even more than the cream itself. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to indulge in the fantasy for a moment that it was a lover’s caress.
She realized she may have let herself slip a little too far into fantasy when the feel of his hands on her breasts made her moan. Her eyes snapped open, and Spike learned that vampires could indeed blush.
“I’m…I’m sorry. You just…um…”
“It’s all right,” he assured her. “It’s…it’s a natural response.” His hand continued to stroke her breast, and Buffy was surprised to note that instead of pulling away in disgust like she’d expected, he was letting his touch linger. “Does that feel good, Buffy?”
She swallowed hard, but admitted softly, “Yeah.”
Spike realized he was moving into dangerous territory. He had the sudden urge to touch her in places he knew he shouldn’t, and his brain was justifying it for him, telling himself it would be a way to take her mind off the pain. If he could detach himself from the act, tell himself it was only because she needed to do something other than hurt…
“Would it help if I…” He swallowed hard. “Would it help if I kept touching you?”
Buffy couldn’t look in his eyes as she nodded and admitted softly, “Yes.”
Spike let out a shaky breath as he slipped his other hand between her legs. “Would it help if I touched you here?”
Buffy’s whole body trembled, part of her wanting to run from this. She shouldn’t be doing it, shouldn’t be asking this of him when she knew he wasn’t attracted to her at all. If he wanted to touch her, it was only because he pitied her, and she shouldn’t want that.
“Yes…”
His hand cupped her breast, rubbing it gently, no longer keeping up the pretense of applying the cream. He snaked a long finger inside of her body, stroking her tenderly before he moved to her clit, rubbing careful circles against the bundle of nerves.
Buffy panted, her body trembling beneath his hands. Never had a man treated her with such tenderness. It almost made her forget that he was the same one who had hurt her more than any other man, too. She moaned, her body thrusting weakly towards his touch.
Spike hadn’t really expected her to feel this good. He’d thought that despite his fantasies, once he actually touched her, he’d be reminded that her body was in fact dead. He’d expected her to be cold and clammy, a corpse beneath his fingers. And while her body certainly didn’t hold the heat of a human woman, he realized quickly that he’d been wrong in his assessment. She was soft, moist, and tight, and he strained with the desire to feel her inside with something other than his fingers.
The detachment he’d attempted to maintain had crumbled with his first touch. And now that she was moaning and writhing against him…
She came with a shout of his name, and Spike panted as he watched her. It was driving him crazy not to be inside her, and he pulled his hand away suddenly and got off the bed.
Buffy looked at him with hazy, confused eyes. Her chest rose and fell with shaky breaths, and Spike watched it for a moment before he snatched up her nightgown and thrust it at her, knowing it was the only way he’d be able to control himself at the moment.
He couldn’t take things further
He’d already taken them too far…
Buffy felt another wave of tears threaten to fall at the gruff way he shoved the gown at her, but she didn’t let them come. She was tired of hurting, tired of feeling weak. Instead, she took the nightgown and slipped it over her head, refusing to look at him.
She shouldn’t have made him do that. It had taken her mind off the pain for a little while, but now she only felt guilty. She knew she disgusted him, and now he probably hated her even more. Buffy curled up against the pillow, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the loathing on his face.
However, if Spike was loathing anyone at the moment, it was himself. He couldn’t believe he’d taken it that far, using her that way when she was in such a weakened state – a state he’d put her in. Just because she was a vampire didn’t give him the right to touch her like that. And now she couldn’t even stand to look at him. Not that he really blamed her…
The sight of her curled up, facing away from him killed the erection he’d gotten from touching her. Now all he felt was shame.
He needed to get away from her, needing to get some fresh air and some time to clear his head. The demon hunter in him told him he couldn’t leave her unattended, but the man in him couldn’t bring himself to chain her up again.
“If I step out for a bit, you won’t go anywhere, will you?”
Buffy looked up, her eyes shiny, and Spike felt even worse. “No.”
“If you kill anyone, I’d have to dust you.” The words hurt him to even say, but he felt he had to say them, to do at least much to ensure her good behavior. Buffy swallowed back a sob. “I…I know.”
He left the apartment without another word, and Buffy learned there was enough of her heart left to still break.
Yes, four days in a row. I’m not sure I can make it for five, but I’ll try…