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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm so sorry this was such a long time coming! The muse rebelled. Whatever. But I tied him up and dominated him a wee bit, with the help of my lovely beta Shadowsbabe, and it's finally done! Hope you enjoy!
It didn’t hurt. Not really. There was a moment of pain, sure, when he suddenly slid inside her, inch by agonizingly slow inch.

Oh, but it didn’t hurt, it almost felt…good. So good. She was deliciously stretched, and filled, and she was pretty sure she must have cried out, because suddenly there was a warm, firm, but gentle hand pressed over her mouth, and she bit it instinctively.

“Fuck, kitten, do that again and I won’t be able to keep my mouth shut either,” Spike groaned out, rotating his hips in small circles as he pressed up against her, fully inside her now. The circles…they were good too. Tingly. It was pretty much all good, at this point. Spike equaled good. It was the weirdest equation ever.

“Since when do you ever keep your mouth shut?” Buffy arched her back, hard nipples brushing against his chest, nails scraping down his back.

“Valid point…fuck…” He almost laughed through his moans.

She’d bit him, and she was scratching him, and she was tighter than any woman he’d ever taken before, and so damn wet. She was choking him, drenching him, making him lose control, and it had been ten damn seconds. This was unbelievable.

Her entire body suddenly tensed, choking the life out of his dick and her eyes narrowed at him, no longer filled with lust. Fuck. He’d vamped out and lost control like some new fledgling, allowing passion and hunger and his demon to take over and she was frightened. Of him. That’s not what he wanted, not anymore.

He returned to his human face instantly, and stared down at Buffy glaring at him, a stake in her hand. What, did she have the damn thing beneath her pillow? She must be damn scared, from the sudden sharp, rich scent in the air, but her jaw was set and he had no doubt she could stake him in a second.

God, he liked this girl. When did that happen?

He tried to figure out how to soothe her, because he was really enjoying the start of what promised to be the best shag of his un-life. And besides, Spike enjoyed being solid and non-dusty, and he didn’t exactly fancy dealing with an extremely brassed off, drunk slayer with a stake. Normally he’d enjoy a bit of roughness before his tumble, but in order to do that he’d be forced to pull out of the heavenly inferno he found himself in---and that wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

“Sorry, pet. But it was all your fault.”

“My fault?” She loosened her grip on the stake the second his eyes faded back to that clear blue, and he was looking at her so…reverently? Teasingly? Kindly? Was it just her, or were his eyes really expressive, even when they’d been gold? Why was she thinking about his eyes, anyway? Vampire! Had to be thrall, or the liquor, or some combination of the two. So really, all of this was totally and completely Spike’s fault.

“You just feel so bloody amazing, Slayer,” he purred into her hair, then moved to flutter a light kiss over her throat. He sighed as he ground his pelvis into hers, and lightly scraped one nail against her sensitive nipple. He smirked when she arched into his touch. He savored. He memorized. “Now, do we really need weapons for this?”

“I do?” Her voice was a little too high and whiny, and she cursed her body’s intense reaction to his clearly well-practiced seduction skills. Not that they were that great anyway, really, but...they did work. Okay, they were great. Monumentally great.

“Mmm. Couldn’t control myself…you feel like. Like…” His poetic skills failed him, so Spike chose to just move, and Buffy sighed her approval as he began to slide himself from within her depths, tearing away the last thin threads of her self-control as he moved.

Buffy could feel his fingers curling around the safety net of the stake in her hand, and she wanted to tighten her hold. She did. She really did. But when he kissed her softly, her hand went limp, and he tossed the weapon away. She didn’t hear it land, and realized he’d thrown it right out the open window.

Her body stayed tense for a bit, getting used to the sort of familiar, yet still brand new sensation of the heat between her legs as he pumped his hips. But quickly, she melted in his arms, pliant and desperate for the pleasure he was giving her.

“Bloody hell…Buffy…Jesus…so damn good…” Spike could barely think, much less come up with anything intelligent or sexy to say to her. Although she seemed to like what he did say, if her heartbeat was any indication. He was panting so hard he was almost dizzy from too much unnecessary air, his dick was on fire, just like he knew it would be, oh but the pain was so damn good as her tiny pussy squeezed him and she clawed at his arms.

He had to stop, slow down, regain control, and he hadn’t needed to do that in…decades. More than decades. Sex with Dru was familiar in its debauchery; he knew exactly what she liked and exactly what she’d do, and he was always in control. Not that he didn’t love being with Dru, but the novelty of this blonde human being was driving him wild. And he wanted it to last, last until every tremor of pleasure was sucked from her flesh and she was begging for him to stop. That’s what he wanted.

“Spike…oh God, oh…yeah…”

She was a good fuck sure, laying there writhing and moaning his name and shit, she was squeezing hard with those muscles, and her eyes really were pretty…but she wasn’t so special. He shouldn’t be so damn turned on. Yeah, she was the Slayer, but…oh fuck, she bit him again, right on the shoulder to muffle a scream. That was it. That. Was. It.

Suddenly, Buffy felt herself yanked up, and she was astride Spike’s lap, cradled in his arms as he panted into her ear. His cock was still rock hard inside her, pushed deeper by the new position and causing a tiny bit of pain, which…she kind of liked. She slid her hands from his shoulders up through his hair, holding tight, as she buried her face in his neck and felt her breath speed up so they were breathing in unison.

It made Buffy feel…peaceful. Well, no, not peaceful, because she was a Slayer having sex with a vampire she’d hated two hours ago and there was nothing peaceful about that…but it made her feel connected. As they breathed, she was more aware of the tight pressure of his fingers gripping her hip, the gentle brush of his other hand against her hair, the slickness of the sweat on his chest. And, of course, the slow slide of his cock as he lifted her up, and down. Up and down.

“That’s it, baby…yeah, that’s it, Slayer…” he praised when she found a rhythm, his words making her shiver, even more so than she already was. “There’s a good girl.” Spike suddenly sunk his teeth into her shoulder, hard, before worshipping the area with his extremely talented tongue. The pain wasn’t altogether uncomfortable, and when he started to nibble a path up her neck to her ear, where he purred as he chewed on her earlobe…it felt better than good. His teeth created little shocks of electricity wherever they scraped her flesh.

A few minutes in the new position, and Spike realized it was a really good one. Which also meant, a really bad one, depending on how you looked at it. She was so close to him, close enough that he could inhale the scent of her shampoo, her perfume, her breath. He could explore her face up close, study the adorable faces she made when he did something she particularly liked. Such as slipping his hand between them to cup her breast. She liked that. She liked it a lot, as a matter of fact, and he could feel her pussy clenching tighter around him as she approached orgasm, hips moving faster, Slayer speed coming in damn handy.

All of this meant he was closer and closer to losing control again, close to losing himself in her before he was ready. But that didn’t worry him nearly as much as the rush of affection he felt when Buffy pulled away a bit, pupils blown and lips swollen, looking thoroughly violated. She simply reeked of him, and he stared, transfixed.

“What?” She stilled her hips and frowned at him, when he’d frozen in place for too long. Not staring in the way he had earlier, all seductive and cocky and hard. His gaze was as naked as their bodies, raw and pained, glittering with a kind of awed disbelief.

It hurt her a little, to see how he was looking at her. Like she wasn’t real, like he was already afraid to let her go. And she felt it too, a strange connection that went beyond the joining of their bodies, that shook her foundation and made her question just why this whole thing was so wrong.

It wasn’t even a full second later that the smirk was back and she found herself facedown on the bed, with Spike driving into her from behind, a low growl emanating from him, hands digging hard into her hips. She should have been scared, or maybe offended, but she wasn’t. The new position made her bury her face into a pillow to muffle her screams, and she instinctively thrust her hips backwards, against his thrusts, wanting it as hard as he was willing to give her, body electric, mind devoid of protests.

He didn’t want to look into her face anymore, he wanted to distance himself from his random moments of supreme bliss. He wanted it raw and hard and now, no more of this aching affection in his chest, fuck her and leave her. That’s the way it was supposed to be. But he didn’t quite like this position either, as much as he loved the view of her luscious ass, and the sight of himself disappearing inside of her, he felt his level of passion falling. As much as it drove him crazy, he needed to be closer to her, touching as much of that golden skin as he could, see her eyes and see if she was as confused, as affected, as lost as him.

Spike’s movements were again aided by his vampiric speed, and he pulled the girl up, turned them quickly, and settled her on top of him again, this time as he laid back against the pillows, giving himself a perfect view of the goddess riding him. He sighed, heart clenching again as he watched her, but knew this was how it had to be. He had to see her.

Buffy adjusted to the new position quickly, liking the way she was in control, as she bounced and cried out softly, choking on the sounds in an attempt to keep quiet. Her entire body was on fire, but mostly where he touched her, fingers on her thighs, hard cock inside of her. It was odd, that someone who was basically room temperature was making her hotter than she’d ever been. Beads of sweat trickled down between her breasts, breasts that she grabbed to keep them steady as she moved up and down. The feel of her own hands on her chest caused a contented sigh, and she began to squeeze lightly, head rolling back in pleasure. She was completely unaware of the show she was putting on, but it was driving the vampire beneath her crazy.

“Talk to me, kitten,” Spike urged her, reaching up to smack her hip commandingly. “Tell me how it feels.”

Buffy didn’t even consider resisting his demand, didn’t balk at his rough treatment, just said softly, a little shyly, “Feels so good…Spike…”

Not exactly what he wanted to hear, but it would do. God, she was a sight, touching herself and arching that slender body, embarrassed to talk dirty. A wanton sex goddess one second, a demure, enticing girl the next. She was perfection in every way. Spike studied all of her intently, but his eyes constantly drifted towards one part of her body.

The column of her neck was beckoning to him. It would be so easy, to pull her down, sink his teeth into her flesh and feast, gorge, satisfy.

Inside, Spike was screaming. His demon was raging against the man, horrified by the tenderness with which he caressed this human. Not just a human, a Slayer, whose blood called to him like a siren’s cry, humming just beneath the surface of her golden flesh. He wanted it all, wanted to make her scream and fill her with his cum and drink her essence and drown in her, forever.

Forever was a possibility for him. Dru was his forever, the cheating bitch, or she should have been. That’s who he should want to claim, want to bind to him for all eternity. But the word “mine” was repeating over and over in his head, lips twitching with the struggle of keeping it inside, as he stared up at the writhing body of his mortal enemy.

“God, I…I think I’m going to…please…” she breathed out, fingers twisting her nipples, hips moving impossibly faster. Every bit of her was sensitized, cells quivering in anticipation, and one firm twist of her clit by Spike’s talented fingers had her coming hard, lost in her own lust. She slowed the movement of her hips and clenched her inner muscles as tightly as possible, clinging to the tremors of her orgasm. She wasn’t the Slayer anymore, she wasn’t even Buffy, she felt connected to something deeper. It was pure, aching, all-consuming need.

“Fuck!” Spike hissed, wide-eyed at the pleasurable torture she was inflicting on him. “Do it again, do it again…”

“Do…what?”

“Squeeze me just like…yes, Buffy!” She squeezed him again, even harder this time, as she shoved her own fist in her mouth to muffle her cries.

He was going to come soon, and nothing in Heaven or Sunnyhell was going to stop him. As the last tremors of Buffy’s orgasm faded he flipped her over on her back, brought her legs to his shoulders and began to slam in and out of her, a low purr resulting as he attempted to stifle his growls. The vibrations spread throughout their bodies, making them quake and feel connected as one.

Buffy was limp and submissive, thoroughly sated and willing to let Spike do whatever he wanted with her body, after giving her such incredible pleasure. He was claiming every inch of her flesh with roaming fingers, pressing kisses to her parted lips, laving her neck with desperate licks. Spending a lot of time at her neck, actually. Nipping, sucking. But she wasn’t afraid of him being there. He wouldn’t hurt her…she didn’t think. It made her heart beat faster, sure, to have him there…but in a good way, God, her body was on fire. And he was talking, the sound of his low voice soothing her, as his evilly wonderful cock pushed inside again and again.

But as Buffy came back into her body, and started to finally understand the jumble words coming out of the vampire’s mouth, she felt her heart clench.

“Mine…mine, my baby, my Buffy…so good, so God damn beautiful…mine, fuck, fuck, love this…want you, always gonna want you…Slayer…”

Spike came, hard, brains coming out his cock as he sunk blunt teeth into the pillow underneath her head. His cry of completion was riddled with pain, his undead heart aching to beat in his burning chest. His demon begged for the chance to claim the Slayer as its own. This was paradise, or as close as he could ever hope to come.

He became aware of Buffy beneath him, body shaking violently, and he rolled off of her, murmuring, “You okay, pet?”

“Yeah, fine,” she lied as she sat up, grabbing a pillow to shield her nude body from his eyes. Her afterglow was brief, and she suddenly felt completely sober and panicked as she thought about what she’d just done. She needed to think, needed to breathe, and she couldn’t do either with Spike so close to her. She was struggling just to remain outwardly calm, and could feel herself breaking apart. She tried to figure out a way to ask him to leave, and settled on, “You can…go now.”

The vampire gaped at her for a moment, as the unfamiliar feeling of happiness and warmth seeped from his body at her words. “Oh, can I?” He finally snapped. “Thanks ever so much for the permission, and for the shag.” He rose and grabbed for his jeans, the man in him crushed by the sudden dismissal, and he responded the only way he knew how. Cruelty. “You know, Slayer, didn’t peg you for a wham-bam kind of girl. Did you kick Angel out of bed this fast? No, wait, he left you.”

Buffy threw her pillow at him, leaving her body once again naked for his viewing pleasure. He raked his eyes over her body, smirking as she hissed, “Stop looking at me, you pig! Get out before I throw you out.”

Within seconds, they’d managed to revert to form, powerful feelings from their coupling fading in the face of their harsh reality.

“You sure you want me to leave?” Spike leered as he pulled up his pants, but leaving them unbuttoned with his still hard erection poking out. He fisted it and stepped a foot closer to the bed. “Sure you don’t want a taste?”

Buffy scowled, and managed to sound almost believable when she said, “I don’t want you. You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah, real convincing, Slayer,” he snarled back. “Try it again when my cum isn’t leaking out of your cunny.”

“Fuck you.”

“Already did.” He was dressed now in his shirt, boots, and jeans, though they were still open to reveal his hard length. A few buttons and he would be ready to leave, but he found himself trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Maybe if he pissed her off enough, she’d fight him and he could stay with her longer.

And kill her, of course. That idea was back in his brain as well. Stupid little bitchy Buffy, thinking she could reject him? Thinking she could pretend what they’d just shared didn’t mean anything? Thinking she was better than him? Instead of letting the man feel distraught, he wanted to let the demon rage and plot a slow, torturous death. But the demon was silent, now, and he couldn’t find the deep fury he wanted.

“Your mum’s still asleep, Slayer,” he taunted like a petulant school-boy. “I could wake her up, tell her all the little nasties you whispered in my ear…”

“Spike, please. Go.” Buffy’s hands were shaking as she gripped the sheet tightly, her control slipping, the threat of angry, scared, sad tears pricking her eyelids. “I need you to go.”

The mask of anger dropped from his face and he looked at her pleadingly as he realized his error. She didn’t really hate him. “Buffy, I---“

“Don’t,” she whispered as she moved back closer towards the head of the bed, away from his reaching hands. “Don’t, just leave.”

God, he felt like an ass. She was trembling, she was upset and he’d missed it entirely. “I’m a bad rude man, baby. Can we---“

“What? Can we what? This is so wrong, this is…you’re an evil th-thing, and I’m the Slayer, and you need to just get out of my house before I---“

“Stake me?” He interrupted. His voice wasn’t challenging or threatening, just soft, as he knelt on the bed beside her. “Could you do that, pet? Kill me?”

“Could you kill me?” Buffy replied in a small voice. She didn’t really want to know the answer to that. Did she?

Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath, and shook his head. “No, love. I couldn’t.”

“You’re supposed to want to,” she insisted weakly, energy fading. “So you have to go. This is wrong, you have to know that.”

He didn’t know what this was. Did she mean just the sex, the two of them being civil, or something else? Something like what he was feeling, that maybe she was meant to be his, and he hers. But whatever she meant, he didn’t want to leave. That elusive happiness he’d felt was coming back, as he looked at Buffy, beautiful and, maybe, still wanting him. He had so many questions, so many hopes, and probably just as many worries. There was so much he didn’t know, but what he did know was that he loved her. As bloody wrong as that may be.

They sat silently for a moment, then Spike began to remove his clothing again.

“What are you doing?” Buffy sighed, too weak and tired to fight any longer, emotions run ragged and body succumbing to the pull of an alcohol-induced slumber. She knew she should protest, but her body was relaxing as more and more of his pale skin was revealed.

“I’m going to sleep, Slayer. Suggest you do the same.”

“You can’t stay, Spike, you can’t---“

“I’ll be gone by morning, pet,” Spike soothed as he slid under the sheets next to her, skin to skin. He wrapped her possessively in his arms, hoping his fear that she’d reject and punch him wasn’t obvious. “Just want to sleep next to you. Nothing more tonight. But I’m telling you, this isn’t over.”

She couldn’t fight it. He felt so right holding her like that, body still warm from being next to hers. Unwillingly, she was sinking into sleep almost immediately, fear and panic and shame fading into oblivion.

Spike was surprised she fell asleep so quickly, then slightly amused as he realized it was probably the bourbon’s fault. She’d passed right out, probably why she was so damn agreeable there for a minute. He pulled her tighter against his chest, brushing a kiss to the top of her head as he glanced at the clock.

Had a few hours till sunrise. Could do a lot of planning by then, make plans he’d stick to.. On how to tell her he was pretty sure he was falling in love with her, a fact that made him smile every time he thought of it, and how best to rub it in Angelus’s poncy face. That’s what he chose to focus on.

Not the gnawing fear that she wouldn’t want his love. Like Dru, or hell, Cecily. Hadn’t thought of that bint in years, oddly enough, not until he was holding Buffy and realizing how pale his feelings had been back then. Huh. Maybe Buffy wasn’t the only one who’d had a bit too much liquor, if he was only looking on Cecily with amusement instead of pain. And Dru…she could have her damn Daddy if she wanted to. He didn’t give a damn. Yeah, he was a bit drunk.

Spike didn’t sleep a second of the night, too fixated on savoring every moment, too busy . Before dawn, he dressed silently, then knelt at the side of the bed to brush a kiss on his girl’s forehead.

As she stirred slightly, he whispered, “Be back soon.”

With one last glance at her from the window, he disappeared into the night.


Buffy awoke alone.

Her mouth was dry, her head was fuzzy, and her entire body ached in a kind of delicious way. As she opened her heavy eyes she saw the other half of her bed was empty, and the window was still open, the curtain gently wafting in the cool morning breeze. The entire night rushed back in one burst of memory, and she gasped at her actions.

Okay. Well, Spike was gone. Which was good, totally of the good. He shouldn’t have even stayed the night, anyway. Or come back. Or been in her room at all, or sat to talk to her on her porch.

The whole night was one big mistake, and she should just forget about it. Instantly.

But she knew Spike wouldn’t. He’d said as much, said it wasn’t over. He’d stopped fighting with her, just assumed he was welcome in her bed and took advantage of her sleepy state. He wouldn’t just let this go. He’d be back, and they could talk, and maybe…

No. No. Bad thoughts. Bad Buffy. Bad, very bad Slayer.

He’d left. Sure, he’d said he would, but waking up alone like this, again, made her heart clench. It didn’t have anything to do with him, it was just…the principle of thing. What kind of guy just up and leaves? An evil guy, that’s who. So, really, there was another reason why she shouldn’t care about him, at all. He’d left.

They always left.

Buffy sat up, vision clearing, grateful that super-powered healing seemed to help in the prevention of hangovers. It also, apparently, prevented that pesky blacking out she’d heard girls talk about in the locker room.

She could go for a black-out right now. She didn’t want to remember every single detail of the night before. Not just the physical stuff, although she could certainly remember that well, even without the aid of her sore muscles. Her skin still burned.. But no, mostly she didn’t want to remember the way he’d looked at her with awe, eyes so blue and kind and completely focused on her. She didn’t want to remember all the things he’s said, sweet and dirty both, in this tone of voice that was so…affectionate.

The way he’d called her his…there was no amount of alcohol in the world that would have wiped that from her mind.

But he’d left. And that was that, so no more pensive Slayer, thinking sweet thoughts about that stupid man. Vampire. Stupid vampire. He’d left, and that was that.

Thank God she was alive. Giles would have brought her to life and killed her again if she went and got herself eaten. In the…bad way. Well, badder way.

As she swung her legs over the side of her bed and moved to stand, Buffy stopped abruptly, eyes fixated on her vanity, mental babble ceasing. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

Sitting on top, next to Mr. Gordo and her stake from the night before, was a small white cupcake.

Buffy rose and moved towards it slowly, eying it warily. Because, well, there was a possibility it was going to jump at her viciously. Enchanted cupcake maybe? Okay, she was way definitely off her game. If Spike had wanted to kill her, he would have bitten her. Sucked her dry. Simple as that.

No, it was just a cupcake, fluffy and perfectly frosted.

Buffy couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across her face.


Chapter End Notes:
And that is that. No sequels, unfortunately. I'll let your lovely imaginations take over from here. I'd love to hear what you think!



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