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Chapter Six
For Demonicamills

“You vamp-napped me.”

They’d been staring at each other for the full five minutes since Giles had burned rubber in his haste to get away from an unexplainable topic.

“Uh, yeah. Didn’t mean to.”

Spike couldn’t get over how adorable her pout was; couldn’t work out if the Slayer had banged her head in one of her driving mishaps and gone loopy, or if she’d enacted the kidnap scene for the purpose of some as yet secret plan.

“Huh.” There just didn’t seem to be words.

“You know I’m a vampire, luv. Don’t you?”

His confusion caused a deep furrow as he tried to sort it all out in his head. For sure they’d been the bitterest of enemies, which seemed kind of personal now that he actually knew her. Sort of jumped a few steps to that. Mortal enemies for sure, was all in the job. Vampire. Slayer. They were supposed to hate one another. Yet without having a clue how it happened, their little spot of togetherness seemed to have changed the focus of what they were. Seemed to strip away the titles with a uselessness borne of sensitivity.

“Of course I know you’re a vamp. I might be blond, but I’m not stupid.”

His smirk so got on her nerves.

“Look, I saw that skank fawning all over you and I just thought what they were doing was too cruel, even for you.”

“Sure you weren’t jealous of her tight figure and thought you’d—”

“Thought I’d what? Flash mine at you so you’d see who has the perkier boobs? You so wish,” she huffed, going bright red even at the sarcastic suggestion of something she’d once thought would only happen if she’d received a brick to the skull. But Spike kept inspiring these things in her. These weird little tingles that even first love flush with Angel hadn’t. Not this intense, which made her feel better. No love so it wasn’t important. Must just be a vampire thing. He was old, but younger than Angel, so maybe these little trickles of intense yearning had to do with her Slayer desire to dust him.

Except her hand hadn’t gone near a stake since she’d taken him to Willie’s.

Buffy frowned.

Then she noticed Spike’s intent focus on the front of her top.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her lip was curled in embarrassed fury, hands going straight to her hips until she saw his eyes cross.

Then he moaned. Buffy hit him with her confused glance and waited.

“Oh baby, do it again!”

“Huh,” she asked, completely stumped.

“Show me,” he croaked, holding out his hand to her while completely mesmerised by the pert push of her breasts against the skimpy white top she was wearing.

“Sh-show you?” Buffy squeaked, her hands already at the hem of her top as her feet brought her closer to his unmoving form on the couch. She got close enough that his hand could stroke her belly, curl around her waist and pull her to straddle his lap.

“Wh-what are you doing to me?” she asked, her body and mind in conflict.

The fabric of the top scratched her skin, stroked it to a mad fever as it ascended over her belly, finally clearing her breasts with a tortured scrape against her diamond hard nipples. The top was tossed to the floor and as she brought her arms down, ending her stretch over his lap. She nearly screamed as his hands spanned her waist. Her relaxed posture brought her right nipple to close to his lips. His sharp teeth latched around it and she did scream, falling backwards off his lap in such an intense bolt of need that it hurt her all the way to her pussy.

“Oh my God,” she panted, her body tingling and burning. Suddenly her eyes were blinded by hot salty goodness and she rushed back to his lap, seizing his mouth with a hard kiss, urgent need of possession making her crazy for him. Whatever had happened tonight was so in the running for research, but now? Playtime was beyond the order of the day. Thinking had gone to bed. The place she had not managed to embrace for the day. Maybe fatigue had short-circuited her brain cells, but nothing seemed to be telling her that this moment needed to be stopped.

Nothing told her that the cool tongue tenderly stroking and licking her was wrong. That the hand that had taken one nipple and twisted it till she was a writhing wanton on his lap was out of her normal boundaries. When her fingers found the muscles under his t-shirt she became desperate for the feel of him against her. One smooth move and he was as topless as she was, his arms in an unfortunate mess of twisted shirt and duster. His mouth reattached itself to her as he leaned forward, desperation guiding his frantic moves to rid himself of both from his arms.

Whatever impulse had her crushing the damp crotch of her jeans against his thick erection was getting a medal. Damn he felt hard, and thick, and soo good. Then thought totally went on the fritz as her breasts finally came into contact with cold skin, the clash of temperature driving her heat up even higher. He undulated against her, hard planes stroking her soft flesh until her nipples became so over-sensitised she felt tears getting cold on her cheeks.

“Slayer,” he murmured against her neck, licking circles against her throbbing vein while his hands explored her belly. He was so hard for her, so desperate for her he felt the urge was beyond calming. “Baby,” he moaned as his hand unsnapped her jeans. She lifted her hips and sucked in her belly just as his fingers ventured inside. The little cooperative jut upwards moved his hand lower than he expected and he felt hot Slayer juices spreading their fire over his fingers. Then he found it. She threw back her head and he had double treasure, one finger on the pulse of her pussy and a hardened nipple between his teeth.

He could smell her tears, could feel the swell of tension in her body. She was the most responsive woman he had ever heard of. Despite being a vampire, he’d always been monogamous. Trying out human girls would be cheating just as much as demons, and he wasn’t part of that scene. Until now. Dru had shown what she thought of him by fucking her sire right in front of him, right on top of him, and this hot little blond was taking his mind completely off his miserable existence.

As his fingers stroked her wet pussy lips, his mind completely blanked on anything not blond. His fingers slid easily inside her and he couldn’t believe how hot her moisture was. He forgot names, forgot history as the Slayer fucked herself on his fingers. It was too much, the pain of his jeans and he growled against her delicious flesh.

Then nothing else mattered as they both tore at jeans, baring themselves completely. Buffy was off his lap for seconds as she tugged the denim from his motionless legs and down to pool at his boots. Her own flew over her shoulder as the intensity escalated almost beyond understanding. She was back, hot and slippery against the bell of his cock and he thrashed desperately against her. His chest scratched at her nipples and she moaned in song as his heart soared. Never had anyone lost their mind with wanting anything from him.


He roared as she sunk down smooth on his rigid flesh, feeling the slippery slide of her walls as they clenched him every millimetre down. Her descent was slow, and he agonised over every little bit of stretching his cock caused her passage. He knew she was new to this, knew she was inexperienced, and he’d be dust before he would ever let anyone else even attempt to go where he now was.

“Spike,” she cried, and he couldn’t help but lick her face, capturing every tear she shed for him, cherishing her ability to show the impact this joining was having on her. Every little bit of her flesh was touching him, was stroking him. Her slide against his cock was driving him out of his mind; he could feel the travelling cum through his glands, scorching him for the first time ever. It had never felt like this, never affected him like this, never moulded him like this.

And then his fangs descended, burying deep in her neck as her nails cut deep gouges in his shoulders. The frantic thrust and parry making her lose her breath, robbing her of everything but the feel of him in every part of her. It was so much, too much yet not enough.

“Spike, Spike,” she implored him and he began to drink, sucking her essence until he felt himself explode against her twitching walls, his ears blocking the sound of her ecstatic screams. Even coming down she pumped him. Up, down, up, down, until slowly reaching the end of the euphoria and collapsing against each other in exhausted satisfaction.

“Slayer,” he hissed through almost pained teeth. “Your boobs are much perkier.” And he collapsed against them in defeat, a happy purr reverberating against Buffy’s flesh.

“Good,” she answered. And lost herself in a gleeful and satisfied smile.

A/N...I am beyond stunned at the suppot I received for the last chapter. I would go get the list but God I'm tired. Thank you all for making me feel so good and I hope you liked this one.





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