Chapter 2: One Time Giveth
Chapter Notes: This is my first time writing smut. Ever. Uh… *cringe*? Oh, and also? Let’s just assume, for the sake of my story, Spike’s chains have been loosened some 😉 Heh.
Big huge thanks to deathisyourart for beta-ing and looking over this. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable posting it if she hadn’t have encouraged me to. *smooshes*
The Slayer was staying.
That thought alone sent a flow of blood rushing to Spike’s more manly parts, hardening him to to the point that pain had surpassed pleasure. Well, not entirely… the pain only added to the pleasure. That’s beside the point, though. The Slayer was staying, and walking towards him with her eyes studiously avoiding his. While that normally would’ve annoyed him – he was too shocked that she wasn’t leaving to care. The Slayer was staying. He felt his jaw clench in anticipation as she inched herself closer, and it took every bit of control he had to not reach out and pull her to him.
Well, that and the fact that he was still chained to the tub.
Her nervousness was rolling off of her in delicious waves that went straight to his fangs. He could sense her doubt just as strongly as he could hear her heart, could smell her arousal. So thick, and so overwhelming. Consuming his senses, enticing and arousing, and – bloody hell, could she walk any slower?
“The slow-and-sultry routine is cute, Slayer, but if you don’t get over here soon – the fun’s gonna end before it starts.”
Her eyes – finally meeting his – widened at his voice, and her mouth snapped shut. He could see her thoughts playing out behind her eyes, and knew there was some internal struggle of right vs. wrong going on. That do-gooder type thing, what with her having a conscience and all. Some sort of justification she was trying to make for agreeing to this. Surprised him, it had. Her staying. The Slayer, with her whole “Chosen” disposition. She who took pleasure in killing his kind. And apparently had a knack for shagging ’em, too.
She breathed out sharply. “Spike–”
He cut off the words he knew were coming with a derisive snort. “Ohh, I get it,” he drawled, falling back into the curve of the bathtub. This time he didn’t bother to hide the bulge he was sporting. Proud of it, anyways. “Changed your mind, have you?”
His sarcastic tone sparked a bit of defiance in her eyes. He watched her own jaw twitch, saw her angry pulls of air.
Right. Entirely wrong tactic, then, and one that would only end with him alone and painfully hard. “Now, when I touch you,” he continued softly, motivated by the fact that her steps were still of the forward variety. “you’re not gonna do anything rash, like breakin’ out the wooden weaponry, are you?”
She stopped in her path, a foot or two away from him, and he wanted to cry out in frustration. Was she trying to purposely piss him off? Because the stop-and-go act was getting on his last nerve. He took in a few deep breathes to call himself, trying to ease away his annoyance. What he didn’t need was to open his mouth (again) and say something that’d send her flouncing away.
After a few seconds, in which the point of her stopping was apparently just to further aggravate him, she finally started up again. She looked down at him nervously. “What are you going to do?”
Spike suppressed a chuckle at that. So innocent. So annoying. “Need for me to make a list?” he suggested dryly, shifting against the back of the tub to ease some discomfort. Like that was possible. “‘Cause I can give you a run-down of the things to expect. Maybe check ’em off as we go? Be all proper-like.”
Her instant anger at his words dissolved just as soon as it’d come (and speaking of, he’d like to, any bloody day now) and she let out a self-degrading little chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
He sat up quickly at that, wondering if it meant she was gonna back out of their whole arrangement. Already, and before they’d even done anything. His hands went to the sides of the tub as he pulled himself closer to her, cursing the chains as they restricted his movement. “Insultin’ my manhood, Slayer?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood and silently urge her on. And – ‘lighten the mood’? Bloody hell, could he be any more desperate?
She sighed. Mood not effectively lightened. But with the expel of her breath, it sent her closer. Close enough to grab, matter of fact, and he did just that. Before her deflated ‘poor-me’ sigh had fully left her lips, he’d caught her by the wrists and pulled her forward, sending her toppling over the edge of the tub and conveniently onto him. The move lacked grace, to put it kindly. Was entirely clumsy as she fell onto him, her elbows jutting out as she fought the sudden motion. Got him in the ribs and nose a few times before she’d finally wrenched out of his grasp and climbed into a sitting position, roughly shoving his chains out of the way in the process.
“What the hell–”
“You were takin’ all bloody day!”
“You… I can’t believe… have you gone completely insane?!” she huffed out in an angry little hiss.
“Don’t get your knickers all in a twist,” he told her defensively, scowling as he did. “Someone had to make the first move, or were you plannin’ on climbin’ in here yourself?” He raised his eyebrow upwards, knowing that he’d made a point she couldn’t argue.
Didn’t stop her from doing so. “So you had to grab me? God, caveman much? Spike want, Spike take?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, and with it, gone went his annoyance. “You know, I like the way you think, Slayer.” Still grinning, his eyes took to looking her over. He already knew her body inch by inch, limb to limb. Knew where the lines ended and curves began. It was the body that saw to his ass kicking a pathetic number of times before, he’d had to have known something about it. But being this close again… not since Red’s spell the other day. He’d worshipped it then. Spell’s fault for that, but he did. She’d sat on his lap, and he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He’d had to touch her, had to feel first hand her warmth.
With the Slayer on top of him now, he found himself reverting back to that state of mind. Tan skin… perfect skin, completely flawless minus a few scars. And the scars only added to the perfection, in his personal opinion. They were battle scars, a reminder of the power that she had. His hands reached out on their own accord, needing to feel her. He couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d have wanted to, not with her body so dangerously close, not with her blood so temptingly near, pulsing in rhythm to the blood flowing to his cock. She pulled away from his touch immediately though, and all that spark of defiance did was remind him of the hard-on he was currently (and going on damned near forever) boasting as her cute little bum rubbed against him.
The touching was a no-go, atleast for now, he conceded. Fine. He didn’t want to do that poncey stuff anyways. He noticed then that her legs were craddled up against her side, and he chuckled softly at the awkwardness of that. She noticed, too, and blushed. He hardened. Same ol’ cycle as her blood called out to him, arousing both the demon and man within. He ignored it though, and instead gripped her knees, pulling them apart so she could properly sit across him.
Would’ve done so, too, except for that fact that she smacked his hands away with all the delicacy of a bratty four year old. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
His jaw twitched as he bit back a retort. Seemed pretty obvious as to what he was doing, or – wait. That was giving her too much credit. “Helpin’ you,” he explained shortly, keeping his voice low as he pushed away his irritation. “Want to be comfortable, don’t you?”
She met his eyes with her own, sparkling dangerously with the unvoiced threat of a dusty ending. “I don’t need your help.”
Touchy little bint. With a dramatic show, Spike lifted his hands off of her and pulled away, leaning comfortably back against the tub. His body arched up into hers with his exaggerated movement, and he took immense satisfcation in the way her eyes widened at the contact. She caught his smug look and glared. He rolled his eyes in response. Would maybe be a bit more effective if she spiced her glares up a bit. Maybe widened her eyes instead of narrowing ’em. He was gonna suggest that to her, but then she started to move against him again as she let her knees drop to his sides, straddling him, and it immediately cut off that train of thought.
The moan that slipped out of his mouth was completely involuntary, as was the way he snapped back up into a sitting position. He was smirking though, and he tried to hide it before she noticed. The Slayer was on his lap. The Slayer had her knobby little knees parted, and it was him in between ’em. It made him giddy. And, yeah – giddy . The Slayer was straddling him. God, if the big Poof could just see them now. Oh, the things he’d have to brood about. Bet it’d probably depress him. Propel him into a state of ‘poor me and my heavy, weighted with guilt soul’. And – Spike remembered saying something to the Slayer about her willingness to spread apart these very dimpled knees a few weeks back – and just look at her now. Instead of bringing up the irony in that amusing bit of nostalgic information, and no doubt pissing her off, he let it go. Controlled the urge to burst out laughing and instead leaned forward, into her. More important things to do now, anyways. His clasped hands snuck their way around her back and dipped into the waistband of her jeans.
“Spike, what do you–”
His grin deepened as he felt what he was looking for. “Knew you had one of these on you,” he told her smugly, pulling away from her with her stake in hand. He held it up for her to see, knowing that that was the last of her defenses. Threats would be made empty (or, you know, even more so) without that bit of protection. She stared at the stake with wide eyes, knowing of the metaphorical importance of it. Slayer would be all defenseless and weak against him. Or, not… seeing as he was currently chained, housebroken, and chipped – but whatever. Figuratively she would, and they both knew it. So, and with great intent, he raised his hand (plural, actually – sodding chains!) over the edge of the bathtub, and dropped the stake. It rolled away, he knew, but neither of them took their eyes off each other to watch. She didn’t lash out in a spot of that ever-dependable violence in response, so that was good. He looked skeptically up at her, then. “And what’s with the dainty act?” he continued, picking up where he’d left off like there wasn’t that bit of silence in between. “You are aware that you’re sitting in my lap, Slayer?”
Her eyes narrowed even further.
Yeah. Real impressive response. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but couldn’t bite back on the sarcasm. “Ohhh, right… heat of the moment decision? Nasty little second thoughts kickin’ in right about now?”
“And third and fourth,” she agreed in a perky voice, smiling sarcastically.
He snorted. “Is that right?”
Her nostrils flared, and her entire body tensed on top of him. Wrong thing to say, his brain immediately enlightened him. Too late to take it back, she started to push against him irritably. “Let me up, Spike.”
His first reaction was to point out the fact that – she was willingly on top of him, thank you very much. His hands were resting on her thighs, but she wasn’t being held there. Not by him atleast. Could point that out, but she’d just skurry off of him with a blush and would immediately bolt (virtue shot to hell, so he’d probably get the “stake you good and proper” brand of threats before she flounced away). Instead, he purposefully took hold of her legs, deciding that, yeah – she was right. He should be holding onto her. “Now, why would I do that,” he drawled lowly, pressing his fingers into her jean-covered thighs. “When we haven’t even had any fun yet?”
“You’re sick,” she spat, big emphasis on just how much she thought so with the disgust in her voice. She stopped her efforts to free herself, but didn’t bother to remove his hands. Big bloody surprise, right? “Do you even know what you’re saying? This isn’t fun , it’s a mistake. A huge, wrong, disgusting mistake.”
You know – if ‘redundancy’ was literal, wooden, and aimed at his heart? He’d be dust a dozen times over. As it was, these tirades of hers were getting old. It was one thing to say ’em the first time around, hell – he’d give her the second and third times, too. But going on with the same ol’ comebacks in the same ol’ fashion was just getting boring. Was he supposed to cower in hurt at the mean ol’ Slayer’s words, when they were the same bloody words she’d been barking at him since the first sodding day he’d accosted her?
“It’s the ‘wrong’ that makes it fun,” he murmered, tightening his grasp on her. When she didn’t fight him off, he pulled back to look at her, squinting his eyes skeptically. “You can’t tell me you’ve never wondered about us.”
Ohh. Not what she wanted to hear, if the thin lips were any indication. “There is no ‘us’!” she all but screeched. If she kept it up, her mates would come knocking soon, stakes no doubt held high. “There’s me, and a very demented you.”
He smiled softly at her denial, lowering his voice as his gaze dropped to her lips. “I’ve wondered ’bout you, of course. You know, I wanted you… the first second I saw you.” He released his grip on her thighs, and his hands drifted upwards, brushing softly against the fabric of her jeans, slowing when he felt the smooth skin of her arms under them. His eyes lowered further, staring at her throat. Watched the vein on the side of her neck pulse with life. “You were dancin’… wearin’ this tight little number, showin’ off all your pretty little bits to the boys you knew you were too good for.” He started to stroke her arm with his right hand, and he dropped his head. He watched his own hand sweep over her skin, the warmth sending waves of pleasure throughout him, starting from the tips of his fingers and making its way up his arm, into his shoulder, and down throughout his chest. “Knew it the first time I laid eyes on you… you were different.”
“So, what?” she asked sarcastically, the flat tone of her voice doing it’s best to hide the the effect he knew he was having on her. “The warm tinglies kicked in and you figured you’d take the long and painful route and annoy me to death? Gee, I’m touched.”
He chuckled obligingly. “Interestin’ choice of words… warm tinglies?” He slowed his hands so that the up and down strokes were more of a soft graze as he lightly raked his fingers against her. “You felt somethin’, too.”
“Yeah, the warm tinglies of you being a vampire .”
“Maybe,” he agreed, looking back up at her. “At first. But there’s somethin’ here between us.”
She stared defiantly into his eyes. “They’re called chains, Spike, and they’re on you for a reason.”
“Was talking more metaphor…” he told her playfully. He dropped the smile and stilled his arms, frowning. “Why won’t you admit it?”
“Because there’s nothing to admit.”
“You sittin’ on my lap says otherwise.”
“You grabbed me and pulled me onto you!”
“Yeah, after you agreed–”
“Unggh,” she cried out in frustration, roughly pushing his hands off of her. She started to struggle, and he tensed as her weight shifted against him. “Let me up!” she barked again, squirming on top of him as she tried to pull free her knees that were now (conventiently, if you asked Spike) lodged tightly between him and the sides of the tub.
All that motion was doing was causing her to move against him in a way that instantly dissolved all logical thought. He grabbed both of her arms tightly, stilling her. “Slayer,” he groaned, closing his eyes as he regained control of his thoughts, willing his blood to flow to less southernly regions. “Really don’t think that’s havin’ your desired effect.” And… he’d said that, why? Right. Loss of logical thoughts, on account of having Buffy wiggling up against his manly bits. Check.
“Why am I here?” she called out suddenly, eyes skyward. “Why the hell did I agree to this? I must’ve been insane. Temporary insane Buffy,insanely agreeing to this insane –”
He effectively quieted her rant by slamming his lips into hers, the last of her words muffled into his mouth. Hell if he knew where it came from, but all of a sudden, her lips needed to be on his. And shutting her up was the perfect excuse. She protested for the shortest of seconds before giving in. Had this been a few days ago, he’d have been undone at the wrongess of this action alone. Kissing the Slayer. Kissing thisSlayer. But Red’s spell watered this down for him. It was wrong, oh god was it wrong, but it felt so bloody good, so who was he to give a fuck about right and wrong? It was familiar now, and he craved the taste of her mouth like he craved a vein to drink from.
She let out a moan, and he used that as the entrance he was waiting for, slipping his tongue around hers and into her mouth. His fingers curled into her arms at her sides, easily wrapping around her, and he knew it’d leave a mark. Bugger if he cared. She pushed back with her own tongue, exploring the inside of his mouth. He fought for a bit, battling with her, but gave in and let her do as she liked – he was a gentleman (snort) afterall. A few heated seconds later, she pulled away, her mouth open and eyes glazed over as she sucked in deep breaths of air. Bloody right she was gasping from that. He’d have been too, had he needed to breathe. As it was, he took satisfaction in watching her, knowing that he was the cause for it.
“You… kissed me,” she finally said, her eyes looking a bit less glossy as she blinked dumbly.
“Yeah, I did,” he agreed lightly. “For starters.” The opening act was over with, time to move onto the main show. He let go of her and went to unzip his pants. He was so painfully hard, he could hardly move. Minding the aching (impressive) bulge, he pulled at the top button of his jeans, tugging the thing to pop it open. She immediately stopped him, grabbing a hold of his wrists. Tightly. Fuck, she had a strong grasp when she’d wanted to be all stern and commanding.
“Whoa,” she oh-so-eloquently breathed out, catching the last of her breath. “What are you doing?”
“It’ll be a bit more effective if I have my pants off, love.”
“No!” she cried out sharply, before slamming her mouth shut from embarassment. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “No pants off — pants on! There will be no… effective anything! And don’t call me ‘love’!”
He couldn’t help but smile. Were it not so frustrating, it’d almost be endearing. “The blushing virgin routine again?” he asked in amusement, prying his hands free from her death grip. “It’s almost kinda cute. In a repetitive type way.” He straightened then, in show that her words were doing nothing but boring him, and leaned back so that his back was resting against porcelain again. He ignored the pull of the chains, making his move less nonchalant than he’d have liked. “But you and I both know for a fact that it’s just an act. Not exactly a virgin, are you?”
Her eyes lit up with outrage. “You’re such a pig.”
“Oh, and you, what? Expected me to wax poetic lines about your overwhelming beauty? Bask in the generosity that is you? Consider myself a lucky bloke for bein’ able to touch such a thing of your self-involved greatness? Please. ”
She shook her head in disgust, and immediately started to struggle against him again. “You’re an asshole, Spike. A delusional, insane jerk of an asshole!”
He smirked at her supposed attempts at offending him, and quieted her with a good roll of his hips. She stopped almost immediately, crying out sharply when Bulge of Spike: A brushed up against Heat of Buffy: B. He couldn’t help but smile at how easy it was to still her. Just a little subtle arch of his back, and poof – instant immobilizer.
“Shhh,” he murmured after a few seconds, moving in close for another taste of her lips. “Quiet now.” His eyes landed hungrily on her mouth as he fell forward, and he leaned his forehead against hers. “Don’t want your friends to get suspicious, now do we?” He ducked his head down, and lifted his chin upwards, grabbing her bottom lip between his teeth before kissing her fully. She melted into him instantly, her hands wrapping around his neck as she pressed just as eagerly into him. His hips grinding into hers on their own accord (well, mostly), and that only made her deepen their kiss. Her tongue slipped between their mouths, tasting him and feeling him, teasing him – and then she stopped. Pulled away with a shocked gasp and leaned far back, distancing herself from him.
She stared at him for a few quiet seconds, calming herself. It took everything in him to not laugh. He didn’t even let out a little chuckle. But seeing her get so worked up over a bloody kiss… it was hilarious. And not worked up in the “need you, right bloody now” way, cause, hello – he was right there with her. But worked up in the ‘must justify now! In the sake of puppies and apocalypses!’ sense. Her eyes narrowed, and he groaned inwardly at the implication: question/talk time.
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, looking at him expectantly. Her face softened a bit, and she shrugged slightly, matter-of-factly. “Because… I hate you… you hate me.”
“Yeah,” he agreed loosely, holding onto her hips lightly as he leaned forward again. The Slayer’s lips were soft, and god did he want them on him again. Not to mention that tongue of hers, making its way into his mouth. Her eyebrows shot up, reminding him that it was Interrogation Time, and he’d had to prove his honorable intentions beforehand. And so forth. He pulled away a bit, sighing dramatically, and humored her. “Well, I figure, on account of us bein’ such good friends lately–”
“Nuh-uh,” she cut him off quickly, pushing him farther back. Huh. Wrong answer, then. “Spike, why are you doing this?”
Oh, bloody hell. With another, deeper sigh, he fell back against the tub. Figures she’d make this as painful as possible. They were supposed to be shagging right now. Loudly, violently, and not minding Watchers and the Teen Avengers in the next room over. But, were they? Ohhh, no. Answers first. Spell out the reason in simple words for her to understand, so as not to confuse her.
“Seems to me, I can’t bloody help it.” Well, hell. Here it goes. Let the cat out of the bag, spill the embarassing news. Might as well, there was no way he could possibly get any lower than where he was at now. “Did you know, accordin’ to some people, I’m covered in you? An’ I figured the best way to get rid of you, is to get you out of my system. An’ I know for a fact you don’t have a problem with the shag-and-bail, so what’s the matter?”
She stared at him, shocked, and he felt a twinge of guilt at the bluntness of his words. Actually, no. He didn’t feel guilty. Just pissed because they caused her to start to struggle again as she tried to stand up. With a reluctant breath, he stopped her, a-bloody-gain (minus the thrust of his hips this time – cheers for adjustment). He calmed her, holding her gently by her upperarms, and continued softly, with more conviction. “All I know… is that you’re everywhere. Everywhere I go, everything I do.” That was almost literally painful to admit. The only thing that kept him from taking it back, from joking or saying something hurtful instead that he knew would piss her off, was the look in her eyes. An honest, open look.
Still, it didn’t give him a reason to get soft. He glared to make up for it, and he hardened his voice. “Dru… You’re the reason she left me, did you know? Seems our truce of sort didn’t go over too well with her. Go figure.” He broke her gaze then, lost in the memory of Dru’s words and that night that she had left him. For a bloody Chaos Demon, of all the wankers in the underworld. It was all… dripping antlers, and flaking skin, and he knew for a fact that those things weren’t as well-off as he was, if you caught the size of what he was saying. He sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I did it for her. I did everything for her. An’ one night, she just up an’ leaves me– in the middle of sodding Brazil! And you know why?” he asked her tightly, staring again at her. “Because of you . You , Slayer. Your truce, and because of your poke with the great Souled One, and your sodding need to come swoopin’ in every bleeding try of mine to overtake this bloody city!”
“I can’t believe you,” she justified thinly. “Your ho of a girlfriend dumps you, and it’s my fault?”
“You’re bloody right it is!” he yelled, not caring anymore about the Scoobies in the next room.
“Who came to who for that truce?!” she countered immediately, glaring at him pointedly. ” You came to me, Spike. That was all your idea, so don’t go blaming it on me. And who showed up in Sunnydale? I didn’t invite you back here– twice .”
His anger softened, and he shook his head, defeated. “You don’t understand. The things Dru was sayin’… She may be out of her mind, but she’s never wrong. Not about these sort of things.”
She shook herself out of his grasp and folded her arms tightly across her chest. “And what ‘sort of things’ is your crazy ex-girlfriend right about?”
“I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he admitted quietly, then felt something stir within. This was getting too ponce-like. Shag, fight, get out. That was supposed to be the plan, not ‘gee, pet – let’s contemplate the status of our relationship’. He growled, feeling his annoyance come creeping back in. “You think I like this? Think I like bein’ chained up in your Watcher’s tub, wankin’ off to the thought of you above me? Ikill your kind. Sought you out and make you mine. Enlighten your entire world view about things you’ve never dreamed of, things you’d never thought yourself capable of, just before I end it. I don’t make with the casual conversation, exchangin’ pleasantries and bargainin’ information over a warm cup of sodding pig’s blood.” He glared at her, suddenly pissed off. “An’ I hate you! God, I hate you. Hate everything about you, from the tips of your fancy shampoo hair, to the do-gooder soul within. But it doesn’t bloody matter, ’cause all I can think about is you. An’ everything in me knows it’s wrong.” He paused, letting out a frustrated breath. “I can’t help it. Everytime I see you, I wanna rip your throat out. I wanna drain you dry or snap your neck or tear off your limbs–”
“That sentence can end with an emphatic stake to your heart, you know.”
” An’ I can’t . I can’t do it, Slayer.”
“You have a chip in your head, Spike. One that kinda literally prevents that sort of thing.”
“No,” he insisted forcefully. “Not just that. How many times have we tried to kill each other? Before the chip – how many times have we faced off, stakes and fangs brandished? And we couldn’t .”
“God, you are so twisted,” she huffed out, her hands falling to her sides in exasperation. “So because of a few fights that didn’t end with one of us dead, that means, what? We should…” She gestured down between them disgustedly, the tiniest hint of a blush on her cheecks. ” this?”
“I don’t know what it means,” he admitted wearily, frowning at her. “Don’t want to know what it means. But it means somethin’.” Suddenly, he leaned into her, grabbing her and tugging at her arms as he pulled her to him. Tired of that nancy boy talk. Tired of admitting things he didn’t want to admit, things that he still hadn’t admitted to himself, so sod confessing them to her and her ‘just-gimme-a-reason-to-bitch’ self.
Desperately, his lips met her mouth again, startling her he knew, but it didn’t stop him. He sucked on her bottom lip, frustrated and annoyed with himself — annoyed with her, tired of the games she was playing, of the ways she was making him feel. He released his grip on her arms just as soon as she responded, as immediately as she relaxed and leaned into him, and his hands started moving down her body fast and absentmindedly, skimming past exposed skin just begging to be touched, and made a straight line to the top of her pants. He fumbled at the waistband, his brain sort of preoccupied with the “mmm, lips” thoughts, and he got about as far as undoing the top button of her jeans before she came to her senses and shoved him off of her. Violently, mind you.
“Don’t,” she threatened, her voice slightly breaking.
He ignored the threat in her words, ignored his anger, and fell back with a laugh. He dropped the grin to pout, jutting his lower lip out. “So, what? You agree to this… one time deal of sorts… you’re sittin’ on my lap, an’ I’m not allowed to touch you?”
She took a second to properly control her anger, and shook her head once, tightly in agreement. “Don’t kiss me.”
“Ohh, right.” he snorted, slightly offended. “Wouldn’t want to sully your precious virtues.”
“Spike,” she blew out tiredly. She took a deep breath, letting it out with a warm puff of air that hit him somewhere between his chin and collarbone. “This is wrong.”
With those three muttered words, his eyes slammed shut. He threw his head back and slowly cracked his neck, his jaw clenched and his muscles wound tight. Hitting her would set off the chip, he mentally reminded himself. Beating the redundancy out of her pretty little head would probably fry his brain into a state of melted mush that even his vampire self wouldn’t heal from.
Slowly, he dropped his head back down. He opened his eyes carefully, unlocked his jaw. Relaxed his throat, and gave her the most falsely sweet smile he could muster, given his current annoyance. “So?” he demanded flatly, his anger officially suppressed. “Who cares ? Just once, step outside of your black and white world.” His smile turned into a smirk, his lips curling upwards as he leered at her. Were he capable of doing so, his thumbs would’ve been hooked in his beltloops, fingers framing his irrestible bits. As it was, there was a Slayer on his lap and chains around his wrists to prevent it. “I know you like a little ‘bad’ to swallow with your daily dose of goody-good. You’re a Slayer. You crave this. It’s inside you, that darkness, just screamin’ to be released. Just beggin’ to be let out, for you to just give in. To be somethin’ that’d scare the piss out of your Scooby mates if they saw who you really were. An’ that’s where I come in.” With a pointed thud, he fell back into the curve of the tub, getting as comfortable as the position allowed. He grinned widely. “Have your wicked way with me.”