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So, if you ask me why I like the way I play it
There's only one thing I can say to you
I want to rock!(Rock!)
Twisted Sister – I Wanna Rock
*Sunnydale University campus*
Something was wrong.
Spike had been working at the coffee shop for a couple of weeks now, biding his time, keeping an ear out, blending in. Buffy had come in almost daily, sometimes even twice a day. He could tell he was on her radar by the stiffening of her shoulders, and the quick sweeps she did with her eyes whenever he was near, but so far she didn’t seem to make the connection between him and whatever her slayer senses were telling her. Maybe his numerous trips to the sunlit windows had something to do with it.
He’d started keeping tabs more and more on her: the way she dressed, how she talked, what she ate, her favorite drink, her voice… her laugh. He could tell when she’d patrolled all night, when she’d gotten a good night sleep, and when she was antsy for a good slay. The last one was the easiest one since it was very similar to his current mood. He hadn’t had a good brawl in ages. The demons down at Willy’s were too scared to take on the Master of Sunnydale, and he couldn’t show his face around the Initiative hunting grounds since he was one of the secret agents, alongside some human looking demons.
God, but he missed the sound of bones breaking.
With a start he realized he hadn’t even hunted since he’d gotten the Gem. He’d fed off some people and drunk a few blood bags the minions had brought to the lair, but he hadn’t actively pursued a victim since before the final stretch of the dig. In fact his previous few kills had all been against other demons. He put the information away to think about later, as for the moment he had something else to focus on: the Slayer was behaving strange.
She’d stumbled in the coffee shop almost as if she were drunk – she did smell like she’d had a few pints, as well as something else, though – and she was busy sniffing each and every single one of the sugar and spice packs on the counter. She also seemed to have trouble with opening the ketchup and mustard bottles. When Mary, who was working the counter for the post-dinner rush crowd, asked the Slayer what she could give her, all she got was a grunt in response.
Spike’s curiosity got the better of him, so he broke one of his cardinal rules and went closer to the Slayer to investigate. He found himself pressed against the counter with the Slayer crowding, poking, and sniffing all over him. It was weird, uncomfortable, and arousing at the same time. Still, he caught her wrist when she tried to wiggle her hand under the waistband of his God-awful shorts. She tried to break loose of his hold and frowned at him when she couldn’t.
“Boy strong.”
If that didn’t blow his cover nothing would. Then again, maybe whatever the Slayer was on that made her act as she did would make it so she’d forget the details. He let go of her hand and took a step back to prevent her renewed attempt to feel him up. She cocked her head to the side and seemed to be studying him. She licked her lips and bared her teeth.
Well that got the demon going nicely, thank you. When she cupped her own breasts and thrust her chest out there wasn’t anything to scoff at, either.
“That’s bloody it. Johnny, I’m taking a break.” Not bothering to listen to the manager’s reply, he grabbed Buffy by the hand and dragged her out of the diner. Whatever was going on, it was quickly turning into a show not meant for the general public.
He walked a couple of blocks, Slayer in tow, until he reached a small empty playground. Once there, he let go of her hand and whirled around to confront her. “Care to tell me what is going on in that noggin of yours?”
She cocked her head again, then started looking left and right.
“Anything you’re searching for?”
Her gaze locked on his again, then she broke out in a grin, and started pawing at her jeans.
“What are you doing, you dozy bint?”
She grunted at him and cupped her tits again. She then pointed back and forth between the front of his shorts and her half-open fly.
Oh. “Sl—Buffy, I don’t know what you think this is, pet, but I wasn’t trying to—”
She’d apparently decided talking was overrated, and jumped on top of him, his surprised yelp swallowed by her mouth as she kissed the unliving daylights out of him. She was a good kisser.
Spike’s brain shorted out. He knew something had happen to make the Slayer not play with a full deck, but with her on top of him, writhing over his body, and her tongue in his mouth, he found he didn’t really care what it was. So he matched her passion with his own, gave as good as he got, and let his hands roam her body while she tried to get his clothes out of her way.
She managed to push his shirt halfway up his torso and proceeded to kiss, lick, and—gods be damned—nibble her way down his throat, and then all over his abdomen. One particular harder bite right under his ribs brought up his demon and his face shifted. Their eyes locked, she smirked, and ripped open his cargo shorts.
A small part of his brain acknowledged he’d be charged for the damaged uniform. Another waved goodbye to his cover. The rest was busy imagining all the things he wanted to do with and to her to bring her pleasure.
Of course, all of that went out the door when, with a small victorious sound, she fished out his cock from his ruined shorts and wrapped her lips around it. His demon eyes took her in as she worked her lips on his erection. The contrast between the warmth of her mouth and the outside air whenever she withdrew was a completely new sensation for him, since Dru’s temperature matched his own, and it was something that only managed to push him ever closer to a roaring orgasm. Once the telltale sign of a faint tingling started in his balls, he couldn’t keep quiet anymore, and gave himself over to her.
“Yes, please. God, so hot, perfect. Deeper, yes, again. That’s a good girl. Suck on the tip. God, yes. Now lick the underside. Never mind, that’s even better. God, is that? Are you going to try to take me all in? Oh my, Slayer!” He yelled her title out while he emptied his load in her mouth, sparks of pleasure travelling all over his body. She lapped at his cock a bit more, then let it slip out and gave it an almost chaste kiss. Her eyes then travelled up his body and locked on his.
She looked damn smug. Well, two could play that game. He dragged her up his frame, kissed her until she pulled back to breathe, and then rolled them over so she was under him. He slithered down her body, kissing any and all skin he came across, until he reached her jeans. He made a spectacle of popping the button and sliding the zipper down while she watched him with wide eyes.
He took moment to steady himself, and slid both her jeans and underwear down her legs, but since he hadn’t bothered to take off her shoes, he couldn’t finish the job. He shrugged, since he didn’t need to do anything more for what he had in mind. He raised her feet up in the air and then toward her head, keeping her knees spread with his hands, before he looked down at the prize waiting for him between her now spread thighs. His mouth watered watching her slick pussy lips spread slightly open because of the position.
There was a soft keening noise coming from her and her hips started moving on their own accord. “Boy, in.”
He chuckled, more to buy himself a bit of time and get a grip on his own raging desire. “Don’t worry, kitten. Big Bad’s got you and I won’t leave you hanging.”
He got closer to the source of the greatest smell in all the world at that particular time, and licked his lips. She was going to be delicious.
With feather light touches he started to map out the contours of her labia and her clit hood. He added more pressure as he went round and around, paying more and more attention to both the clit and her vaginal opening. He ever so slowly lapped deeper at her opening, until his tongue had gone as far inside her as it could go. She was moaning and grunting when she put her hands on her knees and spread them even wider apart, freeing his hands in the process.
He licked, shook his head, and growled with his tongue still inside her, while he brought his left hand to rub at her clit. He tried to reach her tits with his right hand, but the logistics just wouldn’t work, so he opted instead for fondling her ass cheek and giving her short, sharp slaps at random intervals. By the way she gasped and threw her head back every time he did it, she was more than okay with it.
Her first orgasm came as a whirlwind, with her hands all of a sudden trapping his head in place and her wail of completion all but muffled by the flesh of her legs which were now gripping him tight. She was all rigid and trembling as she rode it out.
Once she allowed him to disengage and grabbed her knees again, he slowly switched positions between his left hand and his mouth, and set off to make her come once more. With her clit trapped between his lips, he introduced first one, then two, and finally a third finger inside her drenched channel, using his thumb and pinky to open up her folds even wider for him. As he felt her getting closer to her climax, he took a chance and brushed two fingers from his right hand over her currently very spread and inviting back door. He was rewarded with one of her hands grabbing hold on his hair and pushing him harder against her flesh, so he added some pressure to the fingers probing her ass, without actually breeching.
She wailed like a banshee as she came. This time, once it was over, her legs fell limply on his back and her hands dropped to the side. She looked worn out, but happy. Pulling away from her at that moment was the hardest thing he’d done in his entire life and unlife until that point, topping his previous greatest achievement of killing the two Slayers. His cock was hard as a rock and pulsing with need, the woman in front of him was ready and ripe for the taking, but a nagging at the back of his mind managed to break through: something wasn’t right with Buffy.
If he took her then it would make him no better than his wanker or a grandsire. Cursing himself for a fool, he pulled up his shorts and somehow managed to rig them to stay up, then redressed the mellow Slayer despite her grunts of protest, and picked her up.
Going over his options, the only valid one he could come up with was to take her to her dorm. Since the room had been signed over in her name, it counted as her residence, so he wouldn’t be able to step inside, despite the fact that the dorm itself was open to all. His plan, therefore, was simple: take the overly-amorous Slayer to her room, shove her in, close the door and make sure she doesn’t get out until she gets better, or her mates fix whatever influenced her. He wouldn’t be able to get in and do something they’d both regret, and she would stay out of trouble. Then everything would be right as rain. Right?
~~~***~~~
*Buffy and Willow’s room, Stevenson Hall, USC – Sunnydale campus, a few minutes later*
The bloody door was closed, he didn’t have a key, and he couldn’t afford to break it down. What he did have was an arm full of squirming Slayer intent on getting into his pants. Bugger.
Out of frustration he kicked the door, though not hard enough to damage it. He almost dropped his cargo when it opened to reveal Buffy’s red-headed friend.
Willow’s eyes got very big when she saw them and she made a tiny, high-pitched noise. “Oh my God, I was just about to head out and look for you, Buffy.” She looked back up at Spike. “What happened? Xander called and said she’d drank something.” She shook her head. “Never mind now, come in, and put her on the bed.”
Great, there went his plan out the window. Still, maybe he could pawn the Slayer off on her friend and make his exit before he did something he’d regret.
“Wait, do I know you?” The question brought Spike up short, allowing Buffy to shove her hand past his barely fastened waistband and grab his cock. Willow’s eyes got really big and she let out a squeak.
“I work at the coffee shop on campus. She came in, acting all strange, and I thought I’d better take her to her room than have her flash the whole place.” He managed to grab the hand busy giving him one of the most awkward of hand-jobs. “My plan was to let her sleep it off, but that’s not what she’s very inclined to do, is it?” He looked to Willow for help. “Anything you could do about this? I don’t think she’s really in the driver’s seat.”
“Of, Goddess. Buffy, why don’t you leave the good man’s, uh, man-parts alone and come sit down on your bed?”
When Willow put a hand on Buffy’s shoulder, the Slayer snarled and bared her teeth at her. “Boy mine.”
Spike’s demon was more than a little impressed, but he had to remind himself he’d already stepped over the line. As he felt Buffy’s body coil for a lunge at the perceived threat, Spike spun them both around and landed on her bed, using his weight to keep her in place. He addressed Willow, but kept his eyes on the Slayer. “So, any thoughts?”
“Well, uh, see, Xander—he’s a friend of ours—said there was an, uh, issue with the…”
“I know about demons, Red, out with it.”
She sighed in what must have been relief. “Okay, so Xander said Buffy drank some enchanted beer that makes people turn all Stone Age. He and Giles caught the guy who did it and got rid of the beer, but other than letting it wear off, there’s not much we can do.”
“So…”
Willow made to get closer to Buffy’s bed, but her friend growled at her. ”Boy mine. Go.”
“So I guess I’ll stay over here, on my side of the room, and you try to…”
Spike risked a glance at the girl and saw she was at a loss. “And I try to keep her from getting our clothes off. Got it.”
“Yeah.”
Out of any other ideas, Spike decided to sing to Buffy, hoping it would soothe and get her to sleep, as it used to do to Dru. Pretty soon she drifted off, and he found himself unable to resist the pull to rest either.

I Wanna Rock lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group





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