Author’s Notes: This was a sort-of response to a challenge from Bloodshedverse . The challenge was:Between seasons four and five Buffy goes to spike for help patrolling, she walks in on him masturbating and freezes up, as she stares he turns towards her and she sees his manly bits. Write a PWP from there. I sort of altered it to my liking. And… no PWP, seein’ as I can’t write smut 😛
Chapter 1: One Time
Spike was chained to a bathtub.
Ladies and Gents, it’s William the Bloody, in all his glory – tied up in a sodding tub. As if that wasn’t perfectly humiliating enough – he was tied up in the Slayer’s Watcher’s bathtub.
Apparently when the plastic soldiers figured he’d be better off of the technologically enhanced sort – they decided to play their own little game of castrate-the-Big Bad as well. Sent him into the unwelcoming arms of his mortal enemy, his balls dangling uselessly as he begged to be invited in. Had ’em cut off completely when he resorted to bargaining with the Slayer for help. Were now a shadowed reminder of what he once was as he lay, chained down, in a sodding tub. Stuck in a bathroom in a house full of bloody annoying humans, none of whom he could bite. None of which he could even think about biting without feeling the twinge of an oncoming brain-fry if he didn’t direct the course of his thoughts to things a little less appealing and a bit more… nancy .
There was no way he could be any more pathetic.
Well, ‘less of course he was a big block of hair gel and eternal-brood and had been cursed a soul that’s one loophole was getting a happy … an honest to God happy. Set up the white picket fences, saddle the Poof with 2.5 brats, throw the Slayer into the mix, and you’ve let loose the demon within!
What a ponce.
And – what the bloody hell did these boorish people expect him to do all day, aside from listen in on their every conversation? Spike couldn’t tell you what exactly it was that’d come over him when he willingly decided to take refuge with the Slayer and her lot – but he had picked up a thing or two with eavesdropping… Like the fact that the Whelp and his demon girl had no objections to getting in a good shag when the Watcher was out and they were on “Baby-sitting Evil Undead” duty, as the Whelp so cutely coined it. And he was using the term “good” lightly, if the minute or so of one-sided moans and grunts were any indication.
They’d set him up with a telly. ‘Course it was conveniently perched out of reach, but it was there. And don’t think the Slayer didn’t go off about that. The Watcher had hooked it up for him, and the entire time he was doing so, they’d been subjected to the whinges and protests by the Slayer. He’d gotten the glares, her thin-lipped declarations of hatred, the empty threats that were continually getting on his every nerve – and all of it over a sodding hunk of trash that didn’t even belong to her.
Spike sighed. One week he’d been in this hellhole — and he could genuinely call it a hellhole, given that he’d spent a fair amount of time on literal hellholes, and this place was takin’ the cake at bein’ the worst of the bunch. One week he’d been chained to the tub, slowly feeling himself slip further into a state of growing agitation that surpassed even the levels of irritation Harmony had inspired. ‘Course, though – he hadn’t spent the entire week chained up. There was that fun intermission where he’d been engaged to the Slayer. Betrothed… with the bitch. Was actually pretty amusing, now that he looked back on it. Oh, he’d snap Red’s neck if she tried something like that on him again, chip or not – but seein’ the Slayer’s face when she realized who it was she was kissin’ as the spell came to an end was something he liked to replay over in his mind when she was bein’ particularly catty. God, how he loved to remind her of that. Didn’t bother him a bit, the kissin’ her part, but it got the Slayer all rattled and swearin’ retribution.
Speaking of her Bitchiness – it was her voice that was loudly heard through the walls tonight. The Slayer and her accompanying group of do-gooders had dropped by about an hour ago, in the hopeful sake of purifying the world of evil. Or some rot like that. It was the typical Scooby drama he’d come to learn the past week. Insert your choice of s’posed Big Bad, hustle the unit over to the Watcher’s house, pull out a few dusty books, and… you get the general idea. There was research goin’ on, and personally – he found the whole thing to just be another notch of boring on the ever-growing list of Useless Things The Scoobies Did. Apparently the Slayer shared his sentiment, because it was her sighs that followed his own every so often.
The sodding Slayer. It was her who stomped her way into the bathroom forty-some minutes ago to turn off the telly. And for no bloody reason. He’d been watching some show of sort, minding his own business, and apparently the chuckle or two he’d let out disrupted her entirely. So much to the point that the only solution was to resort to her natural state and be a complete bitch. He’d felt her before he saw her, before he even heard her deliberately hard steps carrying her towards the bathroom. Knew who it was as the door flew open with a dramatic bang, and had to curb his amusement when two beady eyes met his with that ever-present glare. Was all fun and laughs ’til those steps brought her over to the side of the bathtub and she clicked the telly off with a definitive flick of her wrist. Was her own smirk he saw before the twirl of her heels had her turned and bouncing out the door again, it slamming shut behind her before he could even think to protest what it was she’d just done. His frustrated yell was met with a chorus of ‘Shut up, Spike!’ from the other room, and it only further annoyed him as he pulled against the chains with renewed effort to free himself.
She didn’t say one word to him when she came in. All silent implicated death threats and mutual hatred as she stood to his side, looking down at him with those hazel eyes sparkling with contempt and that lower lip stuck out in its perpetual pout. Standing there with her hands thrown across her chest, ‘case he was as stupid as she was and hadn’t picked up on the aggravation she was so blatantly showcasing. ‘Course all that did was shift his attention to said chest, giving himself a rather nice view from below. Was probably the intentional staring he was doing at her flattened breasts pushed together under her arms that served as the distraction that had him not noticing what it was she was doing to the telly. And it might’ve been his staring at her ass as it swayed out of view that kept him distracted, ‘least ’til the door had banged shut with a slam. Only then did he recognize the quiet he was met with for what it was, his head snapping to the telly and being met with a black screen.
She left him frustrated. And bored out of his bloody mind. Frustrated and bored and left to entertain himself, the telly no longer an option.
And entertain himself he would. Bitch was forgetting who it was she was messin’ with. He’d spent months stuck in a sodding wheelchair, listenin’ to the sounds of Dru and Angelus’ and their happy shaggin’ ways. And unlike the Slayer and her one-time poke with Wonder Gel – Dru’s shags didn’t invoke the power of a Romanian curse and flip Angelus’ soul to the ‘on’ button. He’d had a lot of bloody time to twiddle his thumbs and keep himself busy. So, this – chained to a bathtub with the Scoobies prattle as a constant soundtrack? Was nothing. Was fine. Informative, really. When he did finally get the chip out — and he would, eventually, it being only a matter of time before he tracked down the half-wits suicidal enough to mess with him– he’d know their weaknesses in and out like they were his own. And he’d use them to kill each and every one of ’em. The Whelp and his sodding pet names first. The bitch last. Maybe make her watch…
Spike sighed again, letting his head fall back against the hard tub as he blinked lazily up at the ceiling. Fuck, he was bored.
Well, no time like the present time to get in a good wank. That was a good filler for the boredom, so he’d come to learn. And there was that extra added air to it… ’bout maybe bein’ caught. He chuckled outloud at the visual of that. Would probably be a bit funny. Plus, you know… entertaining. Oh, fuck -honestly? He just wanted to wank off. Slayer came breezing in, smelling all fancy with her vanilla and various fruit scents, hair all blowing-in-the-wind like. Perky little breasts, round little ass… he knew how they felt under the touch of his fingers. Red’s spell might’ve pissed him off, but it did provide him with enough skin-to-skin contact with the Slayer to keep him happily self-satisfied for the rest of his existence. Not that he cared for the Slayer… but there was no denying the fact that she was beautiful. In every annoying way that equally frustrated and interested him, and always left him both pissed off and turned on.
Spike felt his cock stir to life, and figured that – what the cock wanted, the cock got. Wanted to come out and play, no way he was stopping it from doing so. Flooded with a sense of impending pleasure, he scooted down into a laying position. Or… down ’bout as far as he could go, letting his back slide against the cool porcelain. Got himself all comfortable-like before taking to the task of unzipping his pants. He closed his eyes at that, trying to decide on a wank-worthy image to help himself along. Could always go with the ever-dependable vision of Drusilla. His black beauty, with her lily white skin… thin-limbed and gorgeous… always so eager to play. Or Harmony. Bint’s voice always managed to pull him out of the mood, but the pleasantry of doin’ this himself, without her actual presence, was that he didn’t have to hear her talk. Could just make with the visuals… just imagine it was her mouth where his hands were, like so many times before.
With a groan, Spike pulled himself out, thickening further as his cold hands came into contact with his engorged flesh. His thoughts swirled deliciously of both Dru and Harmony, replaying nights he’d spent shagging the unlife out of them as they moaned and bucked beneath him, calling out his name as he pounded into ’em.
“Is it just me,” Xander piped up from the center of Giles’ living room. “Or has the sound coming from the bathroom dwindled down to a level of freakish quietness?” He closed the book in front of him he’d been paging through, pushing it off to the side that marked its uselessness. “Usually by now we’ve all told Spike to shut up atleast ten times. I’ve only said it the once, and the lack of other nine times has left me feeling all… I don’t know… incomplete.”
Buffy looked up from her own stack of books. “Incomplete?” she asked back, her brows raised questioningly. “Personally, it’s left me feeling a whole lot of complete. Accompolished, even.”
“Yeah,” Willow agreed. “It’s like when you went in there earlier, you really showed him his stuff. Like Sergeant Buffy, quieting the unruly English patient.” She paused, realizing that it had been a while since they’d heard anything from Spike. And Spike didn’t usually let them get ten minutes of continual silence in during their research parties, let alone the forty or so it’d been since they last heard him. “Uh… what exactly did you do to keep him quiet?”
“Yeah, Buff,” Xander agreed. “Impart your Slayer-ly knowledge onto us. Did you threaten to familiarize him with Mr. Pointy? Because I’ve found that my use of that warning gets a grand response of an eyeroll… and a bunch of British words.”
Buffy smiled cheerfully. “I just turned off the TV.” The silence and glances thrown her way surprised her completely. “What?!” she asked, feeling the heat of three heads swiveled in her direction, none of them sharing her amusement.
“You turned off the TV?” Willow asked slowly.
“Ouch, Buffy.” Xander smacked his lips as he shot a sympathetic look towards the hallway leading to Giles’ bathroom. “You turned off the guys one source of entertainment. Makes me feel almost kinda bad for him, knowing that you took away the pleasures of daytime television.”
“Why?” Buffy blinked. “Hello, guys – it’s Spike . He who once kidnapped and tried to kill you both.” She turned back towards her Watcher, looking for him to side with her. “Giles, tell them I did a good thing. Gold stars for Buffy, right?”
He frowned. “Well, uh… I had found that keeping him… ah… entertained … did result in him being more cooperative.”
Buffy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You guys… he’s evil . He doesn’t need to be ‘entertained’ to be cooperative. He needs to be notentertained. What’s next – do you plan on giving him a pillow and blanket to make his stay even more comfortable? Maybe a mint to go with it?”
“Of course not,” Giles responded briskly. “But there are times when I do enjoy a bit of silence.”
“And there are times when I could just stake him and give you all the silence a Watcher could ask for.”
“You know it’s not that simple,” he told her evenly, not even cracking a small smile at her generous offer. He took off his glasses, placing them on the desk in front of him as he too closed the book he’d been reading. “Spike has information that we need. He’s the only one whom we know of that’s been inside the Initiative labs and managed to escape. Suffice to say, he can be useful.” It was the same old argument, and Buffy figured he was about as tired of giving it as she was of hearing it.
“He hasn’t said one useful thing yet,” she pointed out. “He’s been completely un helpful.”
“Well perhaps that’s because you haven’t given him an incentive to cooperate.”
“An incentive ?!” Okay, now he was talking the talk of the illogical. She tossed her book to the ground beside Xander and stood up. Stepping around the couch she walked over to Giles, disbelief written all over her face. “Giles – he’s a vampire . I don’t… incent vampires… I stake them. Stake, heart, poof. That’s about as ‘incentive’ as I get.”
“Yes, but we are not trying to stake Spike. We’re trying to get information out of him.”
“He doesn’t know anything! He’s informationless. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s lying about the whole thing, anyways.”
“Yes,” Giles agreed dryly. “He’s only made up an elaborate story about having a chip in his head, voluntarily locked himself in the tub of his mortal enemy, all in the sake of – what is it you suppose?” He looked at her to fill him in, the sarcasm having its intended result as it watered down her argument.
“He’s probably just plotting to kill us…” she pouted. Having Giles, Willow, and Xander team up against her – in defense of Spike ! – was even less fun than research.
“I’m sure he is,” he agreed, still letting the sarcasm drip from his words. There was a brief pause before Giles reached forward and picked up his glasses, putting them back on. “You should go see if you can get him to cooperate. Perhaps be a bit more incentive this time.”
“And you expect me to be incentive how?”
“Turn the TV back on,” Xander inserted helpfully.
“He does like Passions ,” Willow agreed.
“Yea, and see… I’m not getting why,” Xander mused. “Because personally, I’m seeing a lack of appeal with that show.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s fun.”
“Fun as in well-there’s-an-hour-I’ll-never-get-back? I’ve had to watch that show a grand spanking total of two times during my Baby-sitting Evil Undead time, and there was none of this ‘fun’ you speak so loyally of. And lemme just tell you that Spike practically zones out when that shows on. It’s like he goes into some Passions -induced coma.”
Willow grinned. “I know. It’s like me dangling a box of Krispy Kremes in your face.”
Buffy stood in silence. They were having a conversation about Spike. Without the mention of stakes and his inevitable dust-y death. She turned to Giles, knowing that this had to be freaky even for him, believer-of-Spike’s-usefulness or not.
“Buffy,” he said, frowning at her as he again looked up from his book. “There’s no need to be childish about it. He’s retaining information, you’re merely trying to obtain it. Now, I don’t see why you two can’t act civil around each other long enough to do so.”
Childish? She was being childish now?! Hello, vampire Slayer! She doesn’t sit down for a cozy little chat to try and obtain information from them… there’s killing and staking, and… and someone had forgotten their duty as a Watcher! With a huff, she stormed off towards the bathroom. Ohh, she’d obtain him alright. Obtain him with the pointy side of her stake.
Don’t ask him how, but the thoughts he’d started off with had somehow changed. Shifted from black hair and dark eyes, into blonde hair and hazel eyes. The cold hands he’d envisioned wrapped around his cock slowly warmed into smaller, more powerful ones. The woman he’d imagined in front of him had shifted from his dark Princess, to the blonde Slayer. And god did it feel good. His strokes and tugs were perfectly matched with his thrusts as he let the thoughts of his mortal enemy consume him. Perfectly visualized the Slayer kneeled between his legs, her fingers wrapped around him. Saw that golden hair fall across her face as she leaned forward to take him in her mouth. Couldfeel the tickling of those blonde strands against his thighs, the hot air of her heavy breaths against him as she inched closer. Could feel her fingers tighten around him as her mouth widened…
Oh, hell. Spike’s eyes flew open and instantly located the shocked pair belonging to the girl momentarily fueling his arousal, standing in the doorway. “Slayer,” he said in a rushed voice, painfully aware of the fact that his own hand was wrapped firmly around his cock. Her eyes lowered to his hand, widening as they did, and it went and sent a new wave of pleasure throbbing throughout him. “Stand there, or come in,” he half-moaned, half-threatened. “Either way – shut the bloody door.” Being stared at by one member of the Morality Brigade was one thing – but he’d rather not have the whole lot catching a free peek at his dangly bits.
“Oh, god,” she said again, her face flushed as her gaze jumped back up to meet his. She quieted, her eyes widening and her mouth snapping shut as the realization of what he’d been doing and what she was seeing fully hit her. Remove your bloody hand off your sodding dick! a helpful voice screamed inside him, and he did so abruptly, flinching as the cold air hit a particularly sensitive bit of flesh. Buffy gasped at that action, and before he could say something in response, the door had been jerked shut and Buffy had skittered away, leaving him… still painfully aroused, and confused as hell. Being caught wanking off by the Slayer only slightly lessened his erection, but knowin’ that any second she would come tearing back through with a stake held high had him moving to cover back up. With an unsatisfied groan, he tucked himself back in and zipped up. He winced as he slid back into a sitting position, pushing back against the curve of the tub, and waited.
Oh, god. Ohgodohgod .
She was scarred for life. She was…
No… he was. In Giles bathroom, with the… and the… and his…
Feeling like she was about to be sick, Buffy stared at the closed door of the bathroom with her hand covering her mouth. Spike was in there, doing… she couldn’t even say the word. Couldn’t even think the word.
She’d opened the door the same way she always did. No knock. Just opened it like any other day. And instead of meeting the annoyed face of the bane of her existence, ohhh look – half-naked Spike with his pants unzipped and his hand around his…
Oh god .
Giles concerned voice met her ears, filtering down the hallway towards her. That sent another wave of ‘Oh god’ panic over her. What the hell was she supposed to say to him? ‘Hi, Giles – sorry I can’t exactly get the information out of Spike right now like you wanted. He’s a bit busy masturbating – give him a few more minutes to finish and then I’ll see what I can do!’
With her embarrassment partially composed, and the nauseous feeling lessening, she hurried back to the living room. “Spike’s… busy ,” she announced, dodging the looks she was getting from all three people in the room. She felt her face redden as she plopped back down onto the couch. “Okay, so we’re researching, right? Bad guys and demons, and this is what we do. Research. Lots and lots of research. Xander, hand me a book?”
Her attempt at complete casualness had the exact opposite effect she was looking for. No one bought it. Not even a little bit. Xander didn’t even bother to hand her a book to help her along. Some friend he was.
“Yes?” She smiled brightly at her Watcher.
“Is there some reason why you’re, ah… back? So soon?”
Uhhh, yea . Spike was getting himself off in your freakin’ bathtub. “No reason in particular,” she lied.
“You weren’t gone very long.”
“Yea, what’s up with that?” Xander agreed. “You were gone for like a total of two minutes… Unless I spaced out and it was actually a lot more. Which, given the oh-so- not -interesting factor of this book… that’s a possibility.”
“He’s busy,” she repeated, this time letting her smile falter a bit. Busy with the touchy feely. In Giles’ bathroom! There was so much wrong in that, it invented new levels of wrong. Spike now had his very own category of ‘wrong’.
“Busy?” Giles frowned. He wasn’t at all buying this. “Buffy, he can’t have been very busy – he’s chained to my bathtub. There’s nothing in there for him to do, except listen in on our conversations.”
That caught Xander’s attention. “Listen in on what? He can do that? Like… through the walls?”
“He’s a vampire, Xander. He has heightened senses, one of which is hearing.”
Xander gulped. “Huh. Interesting. And this very informative bit of news has just been given to us now, why?”
Giles sighed. “I’ve explained it to you all before. Do any of you actually listen when I talk?”
“I do,” Willow pointed out.
“Right. One attentive one out of three. Statistics to be proud of, I’m sure.”
“Hey, I listen!” Xander was quick to retort. “It’s just that you do this thing with your voice, where it’s all British and — there might be an occassion or two where it causes me to tune out a bit, but… I mean, that’s just during the stuff that’s not that important!”
“Right, as if anything I could possibly be telling you would be important. Just the general drivel or two about keeping yourself alive…”
“Okay, research anyone?” Willow inserted helpfully, all bright smiles and peppy attitude as she held a book up.
Giles sighed, focusing again on Buffy. “Buffy, did you even talk to Spike?”
“There were some words exchanged,” she told him carefully, keeping her gaze locked intently on the book in front of her.
She saw him out of the corner of her eye as he took off his glasses, and knew that he was getting frustrated. Frustrated Giles equals extra Slayer-related work for her. Longer training. More books. Long, boring speeches about duties.
“Buffy. I know you and Spike… don’t necessarily get along. But I would appreciate it if you went back in there and attempted to getsomething useful out of him.”
Crap! Why was it that the one time she was willingly offering to research, he was making her do something she so did not want to do. There was no way she could go back in there. “Really? Because I’m thinking if we hold out on questioning him – he’ll give in eventually and tell us willingly. Would be pain-free on our part, and ohh – helpful!”
“I think you’re underestimating the amount of time Spike’s willing to spend chained to my bathtub,” Giles retorted dryly. “And as shocking as it may seem, I would like to have my house back sometime soon. Vampire free.”
“So, then you should probably go talk to him!” she suggested. “He answers your questions.”
“Spike?” Giles chuckled dryly at that. “Spike ignores me as if I wasn’t even in the room. You’re the only one he’s given any amount of information to.”
“He hasn’t given me information,” she retorted defensively. The look Giles threw her had her conceding. “Okay, some . But I really think he’ll listen to you if you go in there now.”
“Buffy,” Giles sighed again, and she knew he was getting to the point where her protests had no effect on him. “Do be a bit more mature in the matter. You arguing with him is only prolonging the entire situation.”
“Fine,” she muttered, standing back up off the couch. “But if I go back in there, and he’s still… I’m staking him.”
Predictably enough, he felt Buffy nearing. His whole body tensed as he sensed her pausing outside the bathroom door, and he waited for the inevitable. He knew it was only eventual before the Slayer stopped with the empty threats and pulled out an actual stake with all intent to use it – but to be dusted over a completely useless wank? How anticlimatic.
There was a soft knock on the door that went and startled him completely. He frowned, staring hard at where the source of the noise had come from. The Slayer was knocking ? No dramatic entrance, no cinematic-like declarations of his dusty ending as she came storming through, bearing weaponry? A sodding knock ? ….Speaking of anticlimatic.
“Slayer?” he called out hesitantly. Best to approach this casually then, he figured.
The door creaked open and Buffy slipped through, closing it carefully behind her. Spike watched her with growing confusion as she made her way to the opposite side of the bathroom, her gaze kept intently on things that weren’t him. She sat down on a box of sort and kept up with the game of ignoring his presence as she stared down at her hands.
“Do not say a word.”
And things just kept getting more interesting. Spike watched her every moment, his confusion shifting to curiosity. He glanced around cautiously, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of any weapons of the sharp-and-fatal variety. Seein’ nothing but balled up fists, his frown deepened. That’s when it hit him – the accelerated heartbeat pounding deliciously in his own ears.
Someone was flustered, and it wasn’t him.
“What the hell were you doing?!”
Her hissed voice caught him a bit offguard, and he jerked his head upwards to look at her. His eyes meeting hers had her face immediately reddening, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “If I have to explain to you what it was I was doin’–”
“I didn’t mean that ,” she cut him off quickly, still speaking in a whisper that was made dangerous with an edge of a threat to it. The red of her cheeks deepened, her blood inching its way to the surface in an especially pleasant way that only further reminded him of the ache in his pants. “What the hell were you doing, here – in Giles’ bathroom?! ”
Slayer’s pissed over that ? Best not to tell her of the other dozen or so times he’d done it, then. “Got bored,” he answered flatly, keeping to the matter-of-fact tone and the couldn’t-give-a-piss-you-caught-me attitude he knew was steadily brassing her off. “You turned the bloody telly off – had to entertain myself somehow .” And all of a sudden, he’d managed to lay the blame entirely on her. God, he was brilliant.
She stared at him for a few stretched seconds, disgust blanketing those Slayer features in typical fashion. “You’re a pig ,Spike.”
Spike shifted in the bathtub, rolling his eyes in response. His hands were clasped casually over the still hard bulge causing a good amount of discomfort that, in the sake of self-preservation, he was hoping the Slayer wouldn’t pick up on. Ignoring her attempt to piss him off with the same lame comeback, he zeroed in on the more interesting matter. Like why the bloody hell the Slayer was back after she’d flounced away a few minutes earlier, purity fluttering away with her. “Here to catch another peek, are you?”
The blush that he was met with was too predictable to fully be appreciated, but he smirked all the same.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Don’t have to,” he agreed lightly. “Not when you could do it for me.”
Her eyes narrowed even further as she clenched her jaw tight. “God, you’re disgusting .”
Spike shrugged indifferently at that. “So you’re here, then…?” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows pointedly.
“Giles made me,” she muttered bitterly, dropping his gaze and staring at her hands again.
“The Watcher?” Spike’s thoughtful frown curled upwards into a smirk. “Kinda kinky.”
That snapped her attention back towards him. “He didn’t know about that ,” she spat.
His grin softened a bit as he realized he was treading on stake-worthy waters here. Just because there was nothing of the wooden sort out in open view, it didn’t mean there wasn’t a stake tucked securely in the waistband of her tight little jeans. “So… you left the first time–”
“And decided that, ‘Hey – guess what Spike was doing in your bathtub!’ wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have.”
His grin deepened. “And so…”
“And so he saw me trying to bail and sent me back in here to ‘do be a bit more mature’,” she mimicked in an admittedly bad British accent.
Well, that was interesting. Or, not, – but atleast it gave the Slayer something to cling to in the obvious state of denial she was in. Her heartbeat still skipped about wildly, and it wasn’t the smell of her embarrassment that was flooding his every sense. “With the intention to do what?” he asked carefully, openly appraising her for any weapons, just to get that out there. If she was gonna stake him, he’d rather not be subjected to the displeasure of her company beforehand and wanted instead to just have her go through with it.
She rolled her eyes, and with it he felt the awkwardness easing between them. “I’m not gonna stake you.”
That had him settling back into a more comfortable, less defensive position. “Right.” He turned away then, staring at the polished nails of his hands still doing their best to keep the slowly softening bulge out of the Slayer’s sight. “Well… good ,” he muttered, feelin’ like it was necessary to say something in response to her admission. And – since when did he care about saying something ‘necessary’? Bloody chip. Sodding soldiers! No doubt they programmed a set of manners into him. Had to have. Otherwise right about now he’d have been telling the Slayer to go join her little Scooby mates and let him properly finish wanking off, instead of just casually accepting her company.
“I’m supposed to be getting information out of you,” she answered his earlier question after a brief silence.
Figured – what bloody else? He should be getting paid for this, atleast. Something more out of it than a few bags of pigs blood and a sorry excuse for room and board. “Toy soldier type information?”
“That would be the one.”
He waited a few seconds, and when she didn’t bother to make with the start of the same boring brand of pointless questions, he looked back over at her. “So…?”
“So, I’d really rather just sit here and ignore you. And hope that Willow is up for a Forgetting Spell later.”
“Ahh, right. You and the Forgetting Spells. Real problem solvers, yea? So, you get your teen pal Sabrina to give you one after her last incident, or…” he mock-gasped, narrowing his eyes at her. “You probably don’t remember that, do you?”
She glared right back at him. “I remember. Unfortunately.”
“Yea, poor, unfortunate Slayer – betrothed to the bad, evil vampire. What would all the other super heroes think?!”
Her glare hardened, and he smirked back satisfiedly. Such a touchy little bint, all dainty and easily annoyed. When she caught the way he was grinning at her, her glare softened a bit. “I can’t believe you were in here…” she trailed off, and he saw a bit of humor in her eyes.
“Sod off,” he muttered. “Told you – I was bored.”
“And so boredom equals, ‘Hey, let me unzip my pants and pull out my…'” she trailed off with an endearing sort of blush that quickly had him hardening again. All that blood pumping so close under her skin.
“Ohh, the blushing virgin routine is it now?” he mocked. “Can’t even say the bloody words.”
“I can,” she retorted, lifting her chin up defiantly. The flicker of humor he’d seen in her eyes just a few seconds before had deepened into disgust. “It just physically pains me to say them in relation to you.”
Spike snorted. “Is that right? Funny, cause pain isn’t what I’m picking up on right about now.”
She huffed. “That’s because I’m not saying the words.”
“Thinkin’ ’em though.”
“Okay – ego, much?”
Spike shrugged indifferently. “Just sayin’, Slayer. Know what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours.”
If possible, her eyes darkened with annoyance even further. “Enlighten me then, Spike,” she bit back harshly. “What’s ‘goin’ on’?”
He smiled. Prissy little bint. “You want me.”
Her eyes widened, her face reddened – and then she laughed. Loud and in a way that immediately offended him. “Okay,” she said, dramatically pulling in a deep breath. “You’re egotisitical, and delusional.”
“Yea, go ahead and laugh,” he told her flatly, stomping down on the hurt that came with her words. “But I know you want me.”
“Please, I think it’s the other way around.”
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, suddenly feeling less offended and more amused. “Looks like I’m not the only one with an ego.”
She blushed again, and Spike felt the familiar pull across his pants. “I heard you…” she told him. “When you were… you said my name.”
He said what ? “I what?” he asked back loudly. He said her bloody name? As in out loud? As in openly? Christ. Might as well poof his hair up and filter in the Manilow and get the Angel-transformation over with. He said her name… It was one thing to willingly picture her above him as he got himself off – but saying her name out loud? Something told him it hadn’t come out in a threatening way.
“I’m not repeating what I just said,” she huffed out, drawing him out of his shock. “Catching your freak show was bad enough, having to hear my name…”
Bitch. Yea, she caught the freak show and came back for seconds. And whose heart was it that still skittered about? Wasn’t his. Wasn’t just him that was turned on either. Little chit liked to think she was playin’ it casual with her glares and tightly pressed knees, but he knew better. Slayer liked what she saw. Slayer liked what she heard . “Ahhh,” he drawled, glancing back towards her with newly felt humor. “And suddenly it all makes sense.”
On cue, her face hardened. “What makes sense?”
Spike shrugged. “Nothin’.”
Predictably enough, she rose from her seat. Her eyes were zeroed in on his as she came stomping towards him. “What makes sense, Spike?” she asked again, standing to his side with her hands on her hips.
“Gettin’ a bit feisty now, are we?”
He watched her jaw flex as she bit back the urge to no doubt reach out and hit him. “I so don’t have to listen to this.” And yet she was. Like even her Watcher tellin’ her to come back in here would’ve had her doing so if she hadn’t have wanted to. She was here willingly, and they both knew it. Slowly she kneeled down to his side, and he tensed at that. He moved a bit, trying to shift into a more comfortable, less noticeable posistion. “You know, Spike,” she was saying in that sarcastically soft tone, leaning in close to him. “I’ve got a stake picked outjust for you. A blunt tip so that when I do use it against you, it’ll be nice…. and slow. Let you feel yourself as you explode into a pile of dust, and let the last thing you ever see is me, smiling.”
That was the drivel she’d felt the need to come over and tell him? “Please,” he snorted, unimpressed. “That threat is about as empty as the last ten ones you’ve used against me. You won’t stake me. I know it, you know it – song and dance is all it is.”
She pulled back, annoyed that her tactic hadn’t worked. “How do you know I don’t have a stake on me right now?”
“Oh, I know you have a stake on you,” he agreed. “Just know that you won’t use it on me.”
“Hey!” she cried out sarcastically, her eyes blazing. “And look – Spike gets a little more delusional!”
“Yea, real ironic comin’ out of your mouth.”
The sarcastic humor fizzled from her eyes as her mouth snapped shut. “Shut up.”
“No, think I won’t. The way I see it – you don’t stake me because you don’t want me dust.” He sat up, enjoying as his movement caused her to fall back a little. “I think you like havin’ me around. You like havin’ your own little toy to beat up when life gets a bit rough, isn’t that right? And you like to hit me.”
“Do you even hear yourself?”
“Yeh, loud and clear. And you do, too, Slayer. Admit it – you like fighting with me. Gets your rocks off, gets you hot–”
“Gets me sick ,” she retorted.
“You say that, but you know it’s not true.” He leaned even closer, leering as he curled his tongue around his teeth. “Wanna know how I know?”
“What I want is for you tell me what we need to know about the Initiative. What I want is you gone. Out of Sunnydale, and out of my life.”
Spike smirked. “Can smell it,” he told her, ignoring everything she’d just said.
That went and shut her pretty little mouth. “You can…”
“Smell it. All over you. Hits me everytime we fight. During Red’s spell, with the ’til-dust-do-us-part – you, on my lap, whisperin’ all sorts of naughties in my ear.”
“You’re wrong .”
“Am I? Funny, cause I don’t feel wrong.”
“You are,” she vehemently insisted. “I would never … there would never…”
“‘Cept for the fun little fact that there is .” He sat up even farther, leaning even closer to her, and this time she didn’t pull back. “Look at you now, Slayer” he continued, staring at her with eyes quickly darkening with lust. “Face all flushed… skin glowing. Can practically feel the tightness of it myself.” He breathed out heavily as his eyes dropped down to her lips. Bottom one sticking out, just beggin’ to be tasted. Watched her swallow, saw her throat tightening. “Your heart’s pitter patterin’ away in your chest, all scared and nervous-like. Your blood… it’s dancin’ in your veins… rushin’ to the surface. Breath’s comin’ out in sharp little pants.” He looked back up at her, seeing her eyes staring back at him, all glossy and wide. His voice dropped lower, coming out more thick as he felt his chest start to rise and fall to match hers. “Bet your delicates are bein’ flooded now, aren’t they? All wet and sticky between your legs, and you’re just itchin’… just beggin’ to feel any sort of friction–”
She cut him off with a hard shake of her head. She swallowed hard, setting her jaw. “You’re disgusting .”
“And you like it,” he responded tightly, annoyed with her redundancy. “You can’t tell me you don’t. I can smell it, Slayer. I’m bloody drowning in it here. So thick and heavy–”
“No,” she cut him off again more forcefully.
” Yes ,” he insisted. “Just admit it… would do us both a world of good.”
“Admit what?” she asked back roughly. “There’s nothing to admit.”
“I want you… you want me…”
Her head lifted upwards in defiance. “Say it’s true, Spike. Say I did want you. I would never be with you. Never .”
Old rejections were playing in his head, messin’ with his insides. “And why’s that?”
“Aside from the incredible wrongess?”
“Well, yea .”
“You’re a vampire.”
That’s what this was about? Gettin’ the ‘it’s wrong’ speech over the fact that he was of the undead sort? “Angel was a–”
“Who had a soul, and who I loved.”
“Who said anything about love?” He stared hard at her, wonderin’ where the hell that came from. Love. Love was for people too bloody stupid to realize that nothin’ ever lasted. You spend a hundred plus years with someone, and eventually they leave you for a sodding horned wanker. “I’m talking about you and me doin’ something so rough, so primal – gonna be satisfied for weeks afterwards.” He paused, watching her reaction. Waiting for something . Hadn’t she usually punched him about now? “C’mon, Slayer. You know you wanna. All them nasties you whispered in my ear… ways you wanted me to make you feel… ways you wanted me to touch you, taste you…”
Buffy swallowed hard. “That was the spell,” she defended, her voice lacking any conviction that she even believed it.
“So?” he countered. “Doesn’t deny the fact that you want it. Who’s it gonna hurt?”
That sparked something inside her. Her head jumped to the door, suddenly rememberin’ where they were. “My friends–”
“Are in the other bloody room. Your Watcher, too. Can hear them in there spouting off some drivel about some demon of sort. Point is – they’re distracted. It’s just you and me, Slayer.”
“C’mon,” he groaned, growing impatient. “Don’t make me beg, not when we both want it. ‘Sides – the thrill of gettin’ caught’ll make it all the better.”
“Even if I wanted… which I don’t .” She glared at him through her narrow little eyes, before dropping the put-on. “You’re chained up.”
He grinned. “Yea, kinda kinky. Creates a sort of bond… makes it funner…” He caught her look, and quickly amended. “It’ll make you feel safe, too. And… the chip,” he pointed out. “Know I can’t hurt you. Can only make you feel good, Slayer. I’ll make you feel so good.”
“I feel good already,” she argued weakly.
He could see her faltering, could hear her heart picking back up again. “Could make you feel better.”
“I don’t want to feel better.”
“Yea, you do , and the sooner you admit it, the better off we’ll both be.”
She swallowed, and he watched her eyes travel down to his lips. He groaned with aniticipation, aroused to the point that he was sure he couldn’t get any harder. Her eyes flew back up to meet his. “I…I can’t.” She pulled back quickly, standing fast. He tensed and watched her as she began to back up, away from him.
“Slayer,” he called out desperately. “One time, one sodding time. Don’t you ever wonder – you and me? It’s wrong,” he told her. “So deliciously wrong. Mortal enemies. I hate you, you hate me… Our dance, Slayer. Always so perfectly matched. Fist against fist, skin on skin, bruising….” His head fell back against the tub with a disappointed thud. “Christ, Slayer – you’re killing me,” he groaned. She wasn’t moving any further, and he took full of advantage of that as he sat up again, pushing towards her. “You know the second you walk out that door, my pants are coming off – sod the integrity of the Scoobies in the next room.”
Buffy took a few steps backwards, her eyes locked with his.
“Stay, Slayer,” he pleaded. “Have a little fun. Give in. Your precious friends’ll be none-the-wiser. Supposed to be pumping me anyways, remember?”
He watched her turn around, knowing that she wasn’t staying. Watched her hand reach for the doorknob and wanted to yell out in frustration. Bloody bitch! Cocktease, comin’ in here with her smells and her hair, and – she wanted him! He knew she did.
Watched her wrist turn, and heard the lock click. She turned back around, her heart pounding in his ears as she stepped towards him.