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Chapter 9



His fangs broke through the soft flesh of her neck like a knife through a ripe peach. She whimpered as he let them sink to their full length inside of her. Blood trickled at first, then flowed like warm wine into this mouth. It was an elixir, sending electricity darting through his body, before settling in his groin. She was the fulfillment of his darkest hungers.

Spike pulled her closer against him. His body molding to hers and for just a moment she tensed as if she was going to fight him, and then she went compliant beneath him. Her sweet curves pressing toward him, wanting him, like he wanted her. She slid her hands down to his waist where strong fingers kneaded him, like she was the kitten he often called her. He waited for a purr that never came, but the beating of Buffy’s heart was a thundering staccato against the hollow cavity of his chest.

It whispered of the blood that it moved with each thump that it gave. He growled his possession of her body. Buffy was now his in every way possible. She sighed in response, her breath wafting across the flesh of his own neck teasing at the mark of his own Sire.

To turn this Slayer would be a coup even for him with his own record of killing Slayers. It wasn’t like she was pushing him away. In fact it was the opposite, so ready for him, she dripped with her fragrant musk in an ever-increasing fountain of lust for him.

His demon whispered that he would be a fool not to take this moment to the logical conclusion. She wouldn’t fight it. They would be together for eternity. She would be his childe, his lover, and companion. His fantasies for them would come true. No one could ever take her from him. They would be linked by not only love, but by blood.

Torn by desire and love, Spike leaned forward, letting the softness of her body take his weight. She accepted him, shifting to accomadate him as he pressed them into the wall behind her. Then soft as a newborn she sighed letting her head fall back to expose even more of the creamy curve of her throat.

A decision was made when her small hand cupped his hard cock through his jeans. Her fingers stroked him through the worn denim. He jerked forward letting her take that part of him while he partook of her nector.

Rich, vibrant with life, and spicy in the promises of what her blood would do for him. She shuddered as he sucked at her, taking in great gulps as he drank from a human for the first time in years. This was decadence of the most privileged of demons; the ones who felt no remorse, no pain or sympathy with their victims, seeing humans as only a source of food and amusement.

Like he once did, before he fell in love with this slip of a girl.

Love.

He did love her.

No matter who or what she had become. Buffy was made to be his woman. Spike quit thinking, letting his emotions take over his actions, and his lust. He changed the level of his drink, letting his fangs make love to her while her hand moved over his cock in time to his swallows. It was a slow, sweet dance that was made for only them.

Needing her, he yanked her dress up, ripping away the lacy barrier to dive his fingers into his promised land. Her honey flowed over his hand, easing his way into the heated depth. The two of them moved in tangent, hands and fangs, to the symphony of escalating moans that fell from gasping lips. He circled her clit with one finger, teasing her, making her quiver in need. Buffy bucked against his hand, her legs parting as one thigh slid upwards along his hip. He pushed forward, letting his other fingers slip inside that secret place where she was so sweet.

No two people could ever have been closer than they were at that moment. He was so far inside of her that she was a part of him. Spike suckled at her neck while straining upwards against the entranceway to her womb. There was a humming surrounding him. It was her body singing to him and he was determined to please her. Her hand curled around his neck, holding him close to her, while she arched forward, fucking herself on his fingers. Unbridled in passion, she was magnificent to him, bloody fucking amazing as she took what she wanted from him.

Spike wanted to rejoice when she came, vibrating from head to toe with the ecstasy that he brought her. For a brief second she went limp in his arms as he carefully extracted himself from her body. He went to lick her throat clean, but she pushed him back. For a brief second their eyes clashed in a battle of wills, then she fell to her knees with blood still dripping like red teardrops onto her breasts.

Spike watched in fascination as she concentrated on unzipping him. Oh, so careful, she peeled his jeans back, pushing them down his hips until his cock was exposed for her pleasure. Buffy never looked up as she wrapped pink lips around his length. With slow torture, she worked her way down until he could feel the back of her throat. He grunted his pleasure at being encased inside the heat of her mouth, but she wasn’t anywhere close to being done with him.

One hand kneaded his ass while one cupped his balls. Both squeezing him in the rhythm of her sucking. His eyes fluttered closed, unable to comprehend anything but what she was doing. The only thing holding him up was the wall his fingers were gripping behind her. She took him deep within her throat, making him throw his head back in his rapture.

Every fiber of his being focused on the sensations radiating from what she was doing. This was bliss in its highest form, from woman to man, and he reveled in it. The moment seemed to stop the world around them as she gave herself to him. Electricity darted through his balls, signaling the release of his seed. Then there was a roaring in his ears as he came in rapid spurts that Buffy swallowed with greed.

Once sanity returned, Spike yanked her to her feet. His emotions rampant and confusing in the aftermath of one of the best blow jobs he’d ever received. He shook her, watching from a distance as her head bounced like a rag doll. For some reason that angered him. It was how it had started. Because he wanted back the woman he loved.

He stared down into Buffy’s eyes, always green, but now were like a turbulent sea during a killer storm that would destroy whatever coast it landed on. Like she was slowly destroying him and always had since the first day he met her. She wasn’t fighting him. She wasn’t standing up for herself. She only stared up at him with a silent plea to love her…to protect her…and to let her be this mouse he’d brought home instead of the warrior she was.

Releasing her, Spike turned away. He pulled his pants back up, zipping them, as he realized how close they were to the throngs of people on the avenue. Only luck had kept them secreted from being watched.

It was so like the night in the alley behind the Doublemeat, and he shook with the comparison. Full circle, she’d come, and yet not. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing while wrestling the thoughts crowding his brain. Being a Slayer had killed her three times, it had brought her love and taken it away, she’d watched helplessly as people around her died, feeling the burden as if it were her fault. She’d given up, given in, and ran the course laid out before her, until she’d lost the girl she was.

How could she ask him to love who she was inside, when neither of them knew who she was? He stopped and turned to look at her. She stood, forlorn, arms crossed as she shivered in the chill of the night air. Who was this girl? Could he love all of her? Could she love him?

It took him only two strides to reach her. His hands moved to tangle in the long golden strands of her hair. She mewled, rubbing her cheek against his wrist as tears fell down her cheeks.

He gave up in that moment.

He couldn’t play this game any longer. He realized he loved her. All of her. The woman she was beneath the Slayer, the bitch, the mother, the child, and his lover as well as the killer she was made to be. Spike leaned his forehead against hers and sighed.

“You’re mine, Buffy, as I am yours,” he whispered. “For always. All of you.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him, and then said, “It’s all I want.”

It would be enough for now. Maybe one day he would see the light in her soul again. Until then he would let her be. It didn’t matter. Maybe love would bring her back when his hand hadn’t. He licked the spilled blood from her skin, tasting her sweat with the copper flavor, while she held him. It was intimate; a moment of him being the child as he nuzzled away the bodice of her dress so he could latch onto her nipple. He suckled while she cooed her love to him.

Spike dropped to his knees taking her with him. They huddled together on the dirty pavement, the sounds of people walking by only a few feet away, while she rocked him and he searched his own soul for the dream he once held.

It was silly, but he thought when he found Buffy again, that they would become a team of vengeance seekers, traveling the world fighting evil. He released her so that he could laugh and decided he watched too many movies, read too many comic books and played too many video games. Then he sobered. She was the law as she once said. He was her companion. It was the way they were made and she was letting it go. And he had just let it be so he could have her with him.

“Let’s go home,” Buffy said, cupping his face. “I’m tired. I want to sleep in your arms and wake to make love to you again.”

“Okay,” he said, scrambling to his feet. He reached down to pull her to her feet, holding her when she swayed, then scooped her up in his arms when she faltered again. Buffy buried her face in his neck while he returned to the car. Her fingers ran soothing patterns along his shoulders that made him want to take her. Soon they would be home and he would have her naked beneath him. “I love you,” he whispered as he put her in the front seat of his car.

“I love you, too,” Buffy said, staring into his eyes and forcing a chill down his spine at the intensity of her words. She broke the connection first as she turned to huddle on the front seat. He let it go. There wasn’t anything else he could do for the moment.

to be continued…





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