The following day, the winter sun hung listlessly in the dismal sky, Buffy’s Tigger-like strides contrasted sharply with the forlorn picture painted before her. Surrounding her jovial form, lay miles of granite markers, in which all signified the end of one’s life. Each in different stages of, for all sorts of reasons, but the fact remained, this consecrated earth was their final resting place. No matter, at this moment nothing could eradicate the smile that permeated her features or the optimistic frame of mind that she held.
As her strides met with the frozen ground, her anticipation and sheer giddiness bubbled forth. Donned only in a black, leather, thigh-length coat, come “fuck-me boots”, and a Cheshire cat grin, her sites remained clear. Her mate.
This morning as she awoke following a blissful evening of intense bouts of lovemaking, she entered into the realm of consciousness, alone. Her mind clearly understood why Spike was no longer in her bed or arms. The sun, one of the several demises for a vampire, was the culprit. Every morning the deadly ball of flames and gases chased her mate into the dark recesses of the world. He was cursed forever never to feel the wonderful warm rays upon his marmoreal skin. Buffy avowed that she would be his light. She would be what fed and nurtured him. She would be his sun.
Every morning as she awoke, the three facets of her being, woman, Slayer and vampire mourned the travesty of separation that was forced upon them due to reasons beyond their control. Despite all of them, their connection intensified and flourished.
In the distance, the rigid walls of marble appeared to erupt from the solid hallowed ground. Despite the original purpose for the construction of this house for the dead, Buffy believed that the man that called this entombment his home, possessed more life than most beings that housed beating hearts inside their chests.
Buffy’s gait stopped as she stood upon the threshold of the stone barrier that separated her from her mate. With a deep cleansing breath to slow her rapid heartbeat, Buffy entered the frigid mausoleum with feather-like steps. A combination of anticipation, lust and the stagnant cold air, the leather that covered her bare flesh did not shield her, as her rosy-peaks pebbled against the butter-soft fabric.
The darkness encased her form as she quietly closed the heavy stone door and entered into the depths of the crypt. Once her gaze focused to the murkiness, Buffy spied Spike’s glorious form upon the sarcophagus. He appeared to be a sacrifice for Eros, the Greek primordial god of love, sex, and pleasure.
As she approached his supine form, Buffy licked her cherry-glossed lips with fervor. The halo of bleached locks was a stark contrast to the obsidian leather pillowed against his alabaster sculpted cheek. Lids fringed with lengthy inky lashes hid his expressive, mesmerizing cerulean eyes. His full lips parted and slightly lifted on the edges, as if the dreams that filled his sharp mind were pleasurable to him.
Buffy’s hungry gape continued down as she salivated slightly from the full exposure of his flawless marmoreal chest. Despite over a hundred years ago, when the final life’s breath seeped from his lungs, he still retained the guise of breathing. Buffy noticed that it increased when he fought, when they fucked, or anytime when his emotions were high and rampaged through him.
It appeared that the man that resided inside didn’t want to let the beast extinguish him completely. Her Spike was a total enigma. Loyal to a fault. Compassionate among the merciless. Tender among the callous. A man among demons. Buffy was fully aware of his past, she wasn’t blind to it. History set aside, even without a soul, he could be more of a human than most whom claim to be. Buffy believed that with time, Hades would release his soul from Tartarus, allow him to navigate the turbulent river of Acheron, in an attempt to locate his Elysian Fields. She intended to be his beacon in the treacherous waters. With her love, she believed he would be saved.
Buffy blinked heavily as she tried to clear the intense thoughts permeating her mind. These thoughts were not conducive to seduction. As her heated gaze settled upon the impressive bulge housed under the shabby blanket covering his midsection, desire blossomed anew.
With eager and agile fingers, Buffy gradually exposed his creamy flesh to her heated gaze. A low sigh, seeped from his parted lips, but he didn’t wake. The white tips of her teeth bit into her lush lower lip as the blackness of her pupils devoured her irises until only the cusps of the green remained. Buffy was instantly greeted with flesh encased steel, as his cock proudly protruded from the thatch of dark curls.
Buffy slowly leaned forward as the rosy tip of her tongue snaked out from the confines of her lips. Within moments, the eager muscle languorously ascended to his rigid cock, base to tip. Upon reaching the bulbous head, the talented muscle encompassed him with several passes. Steady groans erupted from his chest, as his body shifted slightly. Unable to control her lust, Buffy’s fist enveloped his erection as her scorching mouth engulfed him. Spike’s eyes bulged wide, as her heat enveloped him. Low purrs emitted from deep within his chest, as his hazy gaze beheld his mate, and her pleasurable actions.
After several ascents and descents, Buffy’s heated gaze shifted to her lover’s face. Brilliant gazes met as his unfocused stare bore into hers. Spike’s arm slowly rose from the marble, his palm itching to be filled with golden locks. Within an instant, a slight ‘pop’ sounded as she released his cock. With a wicked grin, Buffy ‘tsked’ him, and then she spoke, voice thick with lust.
“No touching. I still need to punish you for all the wicked thoughts you sent to me during dinner. Now be a good boy and let me play.”
As her lust-riddled words seeped into his hazy mind, Spike attempted to comment, until her mouth encircled him once more. His words died upon his lips, as a low growl filled the room. With a tedious pace, Buffy continued to work at him with her eager mouth and fist. In addition, her other hand fondled his heavy sac, with pleasurable tugs and strokes. Spike’s hips lifted in sync with her movements, as he felt the endless abyss of his climax promising to consume him.
Buffy felt Spike’s body prepare for his climax; sac tightened, hips seeking a faster tempo, marble crumbling under his fists as he held on tightly. Instantly, her movements stilled as she withdrew from him completely. Blurry blues sought her as the cold air of the crypt replaced the sweltering heat of her mouth.
Instantly, his gaze met hers, his cock was sheathed with liquid fire, as her womb swallowed him whole. An inhuman thunderous roar reverberated throughout the stone confines, as Spike’s demon bellowed forth. With a reciprocated snarl, Buffy golden eyes and serrated fangs emerged, bestowing sheer bliss upon him, as her hips rose and fell upon his cock.
Without breaking her torturous pace, Buffy released the sash of her leather coat, as she exposed her bare form to his golden gaze. Her muscular thighs clenched and released his slender hips; her eager hands sought her own heated flesh. Nimble fingers plucked her erect peaks, and in conjunction, snaked between her thighs strumming her glistening pearl.
Buffy’s orgasm crested as she continued to torture her love with enforcing the ‘no touch’ command. Each time his thoughts emerged to grasp her flesh a small warning growl would erupt from deep within her chest. After several punishing, exquisite strides upon his cock, Buffy’s lips parted as a pleasurable shrill erupted from her throat.
Liquid fire rushed forward from her core and coated him completely. Spike’s possessed howl reverberated off the marble tomb, as his climax roared deep within his being. Spike’s hips rose to meet her brutal pace, within moments, ropes of his dead seed fusilladed, coating her womb entirely. Despite his completion, Spike continued to fuel Buffy’s movements as she sought another orgasm. As her heated inner walls fluttered around his cock, he knew that she only required a little more, to have another petite mort.
Mind clear, without warning, Spike jackknifed his upper body, as he wrapped his muscular arms around her petite frame. Instantly, his fangs pierced Buffy’s right breast. With long hungry draws, he pulled her robust blood deep within his mouth. As the life-giving ambrosia flowed down his throat, Buffy’s orgasm tore through her body, as her piercing growls rumbled throughout the room.
The lover's pace continued to slow, as Buffy loving encased Spike within her arms. Spike extracted his fangs slowly, after several lengthy licks to close the wound, nestled his head to her breast. They lay entwined for several moments, as vows of love and devotion flowed between each other’s minds.
Tenderly, Spike extracted his head from her chest, placing a tender kiss upon her full lips. Spike barred his throat to his mate. His demon reveled in the concept of this beautiful woman partaking in the vital fluid that had bound them together for eternity.
Buffy leisurely ran her tongue over the two puckered marks that graced his throat. Instantly, her core was filled once more with his heavy erection. Razor-sharp fangs slid deep within his alabaster throat. His wound bought forth-intoxicating blood, which filled her mouth, coated her throat and consumed her mind. After several profound pulls, Buffy tenderly extracted her fangs. Still intimately connected, Spike placed his back upon the sarcophagus.
Spike gently stroked her golden tresses, placing several chaste kisses upon her crown. Within moments, Buffy’s breathing slowed as Hypnos carried her to the land of sleep. Gathering the worn blanket around their forms, Spike joined his Truelove in blissful unconsciousness.
Hours later, Buffy awoke upon her mate’s chest. Begrudgingly, she separated from him and prepared to leave. After several soft and loving words were exchanged, and Spike’s assurance that once the sun dipped below the horizon, ‘William’ would be calling on her again, Buffy exited the crypt and headed homeward.
Once the stone barrier obstructed the sun’s deadly rays, Spike pulled himself from his marble ‘bed’. Slowly placing his worn, black jeans upon his legs, a smile framed his full lips as his mind filled with the events of the day. The sex, and the sheer fact that they could express their pleasure and love in complete and total abandon was divine.
Spike’s smile grew tenfold when he remembered Buffy ecstatically announced her mother was leaving town next week, and they would be able to worship each other completely, in the warm confines of her bed. Thoughts of these days filled his mind, as he awaited his jailor, the sun, to grant him his reprieve.
Within no time, Sunday night arrived. Just one more night of hidden passions and stifled expressions of pleasure, then they would be able to unleash their fervor upon the world that existed within each other’s arms. The evening was filled with the trio; Buffy, Joyce and ‘William’ enjoying a marathon of Passions. Loud verbal protests of Buffy’s were ignored, as ‘William’ and Joyce excitedly chattered about the characters and plots that surrounded Harmony, the hamlet in New England that housed the craziness that ensued.
Once the three-hour marathon came to a close, ‘William’ bid his goodbyes and left. An hour later, Buffy’s shod feet stomped upon the frozen earth, after she escaped her bedroom to meet Spike for patrol. Despite their earlier findings, all was quiet on the fledgling/minion front tonight.
Spike uneasiness was declared, when with a deep rumble, he announced to Buffy that ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’. In response, she placed a chaste kiss upon his down-turned, full lips, as she imagined several erotic positions they had yet to try. As they flashed within his mind, instantly, all negative thoughts were dismissed.
Unexpectedly, Buffy’s heated form was pressed against the frigid stone of a nearby crypt, as Spike’s talented mouth upon hers. Instantly, her toned legs splayed and wrapped tightly around his waist, as each sought pleasure from the other, the outside world fell away.
*******
Within the walls of the mansion and his mind, Angelus’ plan had ripened and harvest time was upon them. All the aspects of his plan had been worked through completely. No margin of error granted nor accepted. Instructions were given and deadly vows of fates worse than death, bestowed upon all those that were involved.
With a final lust-filled kiss, Drusilla and Angelus headed out separately, into the night. Each with their own agendas and tasks lie before them. Angelus gait was leisurely, but purposeful as Drusilla’s earlier insane enigma, which his mind had translated into sane words, floated throughout his mind.
Two gypsy moths flittering in the sun…..clip their wings….clip their wings…..and all will come undone!
Within the hour, excitedly, Drusilla’s lay in wait by a small basement apartment on the ‘shady’ side of Sunnydale. With a thorough lick of her serrated fangs, the giggles and whispers of fairies filled her mind. They sang out the name and fate of whom Drusilla was waiting for. Their voices scattered, as a middle-aged man, made his way with quick clips, towards the apartment that she hovered by. Before he could enter, Drusilla’s soft, melodically voice floated upon the chilly air, as she called in Romanian to the gentleman.
“Enios unchiul tu esti?” (1) Quickly the man turned, as Drusilla roared and sank her fangs deep within his otherwise pristine throat. Within moments, his heart faltered as his life’s blood was drained completely by the woman upon his neck. Once his heart stopped its function, Drusilla carelessly released his lifeless corpse. With a heavy and distinct thud, he fell upon the cold sidewalk. A tinkle of insane laughter bubbled forth from her blood-coated throat, as Drusilla started to chant upwards to the star and moon filled sky, a piece of the conundrum that she had bestowed upon Angelus.
Clip their wings…..clip their wings!
As she sang, Drusilla extracted a small, glass vile from the bodice of her crimson velvet dress. In addition to her voice, her body joined the celebration, as she begins to sprinkle upon his lifeless form a parting gift. Upon completion, she stepped over his prone form and stalked away into the night.
Across town, with an invitation inlaid in a stone arch above his head, “Formatia trans sicere educatorum”(2), Angelus leisurely crossed the threshold of the front entrance of Sunnydale High. His demon emerged, a feral grin graced his lips. The essence of his intended victim filled his nose, traveled down his throat, lingered in his lungs, as he became hard from the thrill of what was to come. The thunderous sound of his footsteps fell upon the empty hallways, accompanied the strong heartbeat that filled his ears.
After several moments, Angelus entered the room that housed his prey. As the soft glow of the computer illuminated his prey’s features, his demon roared for blood and death. After a brief exchange of her frightened and his ominous words, Angelus was through playing. With a lunge, the chase was on.
Throughout the halls, she ran in an attempt to escape her destined fate. After several moments of cat and mouse, Angelus attacked. Assailant and victim exchanged final words before Angelus placed his palms upon her cheeks, and with a swift shift, severed her spine. As Jenny’s body fell listlessly upon the floor, Angelus’ supercilious voice rang out.
Clip their wings!
As Drusilla had done, he extracted a vile from his leather jacket. Angelus, less ceremonious than she, scattered the contents upon Jenny’s dead body. Once the act was complete, with a cheerful whistle upon his lips, he exited the school in search for his evening’s meal.
(1) Uncle Enios is that you?
(2) Enter all ye who seek knowledge
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I hope everyone enjoys! I know I did when I wrote it! As always thank you Sanityfair
Chapter End Notes:
Buckle up kiddies, it's gonna be a bumpy ride! Chapter 18 is done and just waiting your reviews to be posted!!! Ha Ha, no it will be coming! Sorry SF for killing Jenny, it HAD to be done!