8.
A thick snarl of encouragement vibrated at the back of Spike’s throat. Buffy wanted to know and Spike was ready, willing and able to supply the required tuition. A sweet little girl she was and wise to the dark truths around her; but still, there was the scent of freshness and exuberance about her. It was an intoxicating mix: deadly slayer malice sprinkled with alluring school girl charm and served up in such an unfettered manner.
No wonder Spike was getting light headed.
He figured she’d acquiesce since she remained perched so wantonly on his thighs instead of kicking his ass down the stairs and out the front door. Besides, the nose always knows. It was a precise barometer of all things sexual and most things slayer. Some slight negotiation was all that was needed, just a sprinkling of tried and true badass charm; a little seduction spread sweet and thick like blood on a warmed croissant.
“What a brave girl.” His words barely broke the atmosphere of the room. Spike slathered the condom covered stake with lubricant. Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt the careful insertion. His soft non-stop verbal onslaught continued.
Buffy was not prepared for the psychological dimension of being staked in such a way by a vampire. She held fast to his shoulders as she climbed an unknown summit. He soothed, coaxed and coached her higher as he thrust the stake slowly and shallowly inside her all the while busily working her clitoris toward orgasm. She soon climaxed with a strength that stunned her. Patches of numbed, reddened skin on her face tingled from her tumultuous orgasm.
After that unexpected but delightful success Spike moved quickly. He positioned her kneeling on the bed leaning forward against the metal bedstead. He moved behind her with a few knee strides and saturated his neglected cock with more lubricant, eschewing a condom for this virgin territory. Nothing was going to separate them now. Her breaths scratched the air with a need she was startled by but not ashamed of.
“What did you think?” His voice was heavy with what was to come.
“Um…that was…interesting.” She approached indifference although her shaky voice betrayed her. Interesting? It was a start. Maybe she needed a bit more experience. Spike smirked with admiration. Sly kitties don’t give an inch.
“Just interesting? I don’t think my work here is done.” Spike slid his erection up and down her cleft. “Shall we try something a bit more…personal?”
“Yeah.” Buffy nodded.
“Tell me.”
“I want you…here,” she reached back and indicated her bottom.
“In your lovely arse, pet? You want me to fuck you there?” God, that was what she wanted. She nodded her assent. He placed the head of his cock against her opening.
“But maybe you’re too big,” she added hastily, looking back over her shoulder, the haze of her orgasm lifting. Spike’s grin nearly split his face.
“Don’t worry,” he consoled smoothly. “You can take me. We’ll soak the bed in your come, we will.” Blatant hyperbole, but Buffy was biting. A cloud of acrid slayer arousal hit his nostrils.
“That’s right, the Slayer’s a naughty girl, such a lovely rude girl–“
“What do I do?” There was a tinge of trust in that voice. The demon howled from deep in the recesses of Spike’s being; howled for blood and for the fucking to commence. It wanted to make its mark. The Slayer’s skin was too perfect, too clean; it needed the adornment of his personal tattoo. His stamp of ownership. The blasphemy of the Master’s mark had to be obliterated. That was an outrage Spike could not abide.
“Lean back. Lean on me, and breathe. Breathe deep.” Spike braced his cock and pressed slowly into her yielding sphincter. Buffy leaned back and did not hesitate.
“Oh god…ohgodohgodohgod,” Buffy chanted breathlessly as she felt his girth stretch her muscled entrance.
“That’s it beauty, stay with it. We’re almost there.” Spike controlled the timbre of his voice with non human precision, offering her only calm assurance. He grimaced soundlessly and bit his lip, struggling against his own nature. The startling sensations were overwhelming.
“Oh FUCK!” she exclaimed when she felt his hips flush against hers.
“All the way in, feel that?” he caressed his knuckles down her spine and fought a thundering impulse to slam into her mercilessly.
“Yeah,” Buffy released a long exhale of pent up tension. Unfamiliar but not unwelcome sensations radiated spirally through her entire pelvic region. There was some retreating discomfort but mostly a delicious, tingling pleasure.
“Does it hurt?” She turned toward him and shook her head. Spike raised a corner of his mouth in relief.
“You like it Slayer? Hmm? Like my cock there?” Slowly Spike rolled his hips into her.
“Unhh,” Buffy clenched reflexively around his shaft.
“Fuck, Slayer! Breathe! Breathe!” Spike gasped and winced, nearly losing control. “Don’t want me coming too soon, now. That’ll spoil all our fun.” Deep, concentrated inhalations resulted in a loosening of her internal grip.
Spike held his hips still and waited for her to relax. “Mmm, that’s right.” Spike whispered into her ear. “So far, so good.” He caressed her hips and belly. Buffy moved slightly in response, trying to replicate his subtle hip movement.
“I need to move. Can I move?” So polite. It took him by surprise.
“By all means Slayer, do your stuff.” Her body led the way, moving tentatively with his, finding a slow sensual rhythm. Their bodies rolled together in a tender undulation, mindlessly knowing how to activate the necessary circuit of flesh and sensation.
“Like this. I like it like this.” Buffy was unsure of where to put her hands. They traveled a haphazard route of their own: gripping the metal bed frame, then palms flat to the wall, grasping his hands and reaching behind to touch his hips and thighs.
“I know, love. I know what you need, just like this is perfect.”
Her fears of a punishing assault disappeared as Spike led her gracefully to a plateau of remarkable pleasures with skill and restraint. He held off his body’s harder impulses to pierce and tear and dominate. He wanted her to like this, to want it; to want everything he could offer her.
He didn’t need to pummel her body with his unrestrained ardor. He wanted to be with her as she blossomed in his arms. There would be time for all sorts of games. Spike would take her everywhere, but slowly. He wanted her to float in his embrace and know the gentleness he could give her. That he wanted to give her.
The demon grumbled his discontentment; waiting was never a strong suit. The current inducements to patience however were compelling enough. Buffy’s slow exertion stimulated the veins and arteries in her neck. They swelled in concert with her knotted forehead. Spike knew better than to stare exactly there. His fangs twitched from their hidden moorings. Soon. Soon enough for all things. Uncensored gasps of lust burst from her throat, telling of a need she’d not realized was there.
“Spike.” Soft and bleating, a golden fleshed lamb.
“Yeah baby?”
“Touch me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Buffy straightened her sweating body and reached back to grab him. She wanted their bodies sealed together. He obliged, nuzzling close to her ear. His fingers found her clit and started a firm rhythm. His other hand laid claim to her breast and tugged gently at her elongated nipple. Spike smiled as he listened to her soft vocalizing: mewls, paeans, oaths, and promises tumbled from her lips. He was drunk on her unadorned words, beseeching him to continue. To lead the way. It was a heady invasion past undefended borders. His mind clicked as scenario after scenario flew by his consciousness, only to be neutrally acknowledged and discarded.
Reality was far more intriguing than anything he could have imagined. Just the thought of this slayer — his perfect enemy and preferred entrée — tight in his arms, holding him, moving with him, against him, inside him… Cooing as he fucked her. Wanting more. Begging for it. It was enough to turn a fellow’s head and stimulate some sinfully inappropriate ideas. It was all he could do not to start making plans for a little crypt for two.
Companion, consort, lover, opponent. This girl was a match like no other; as if made for his exacting specifications. Burning flesh for his cool tongue. A hedonist’s furnace for him to drown in.
She was his.
Buffy was past denial, past modesty, past a timid reticence toward sexualized language. She was surging ahead, unashamedly embracing the fullness she felt. The fullness of sensation provided by Spike. And she wanted it. Him. Sucking and stroking. In and out. Cock full. His words teased her mind while his free fingers slithered over her perspiring contours. Her mind flooded; undiluted with this ravishment.
A brief thought fluttered among the fields of her rapture: did Giles know? Did those dusty men on the Council know this possibility existed? It didn’t matter. She knew. Spike knew. No more pretending. She was primed for the taking. All this and more.
“Kitty likes?” Their bodies moved as one.
“Yes.” Her voice came from somewhere else, in the vicinity of her uterus, deep and resonant.
“You like how I fuck you, do you?”
“Mmm.”
“I’m inside you, so deep.”
“Deep…”
“There’s no hurry, none at all.”
“None…”
“I could stay in you like this…” he paused to hear her reaction.
“Forever.”
“Give you everything you want, everything you need.” His voice bled with his promises.
“Need this, you.”
“You need me, do you?” Buffy turned her head but from her proximity she couldn’t see his eyes. Spike spoke into her temple. “Tell me that you missed me.” That’s what he wanted to hear.
“I did.” No more avoiding that truth. Buffy craned her neck obliquely for a kiss, open and soft but awkwardly positioned. “Missed you.”
“I know, Slayer. I can taste it.”
Despite the erotic languor of their coupling, internally Buffy was racing toward dangerous levels. She was not even aware when she started to growl. It was an instinct she could not control. An unconscious awareness of what communication was needed between them. There would be words too of course, because Buffy couldn’t help herself. She’d open her mouth and step all over this perfection soon enough. That was an inescapable certainty. But until then they had this wordless landscape. The wet muscle music of hip against hip. The faint lubed echoes of a steady driving rhythm bounced between them. He responded in kind.
What happened next was blur of instinct. With a growl, Spike pushed Buffy forward against the bed frame and took her hips in his hands. He angled her sharply for his release. A furious ejaculation triggered her orgasm. Spike morphed and fell forward, piercing the meaty muscle of her shoulder blade near the crook of her neck. Buffy cried out at the sensation of sexual repletion and the touch of the demon on her back. She looked around wildly, unable to see his face.
Spike held her tightly to his chest, his hips heaving in stuttered muscular coughs, spurting out the remainder of his come. His voice sounded deep syllabic sentinels. Then a soft press of tongue and lips covered her wound, accompanied by a sound of hushed satiety. Tender vibrations of deep affection flowed straight from a demon’s heart. The wound stung briefly but his studied attentions helped eliminate those uncomfortable sensations.
Buffy’s chest heaved over and over, as if trying to inflate a punctured tire. Her face calmed slowly and returned to its normal coloring. The bulbous veins in her neck eased as the tension drained outward, beyond the confines of her room. She covered his arms surrounding her torso with her own.
At last he softened. Spike eased his spent cock from her relaxed body. Buffy turned in his embrace and the tired combatants flopped down upon her quilted coverlet, now besmirched with vampire spunk and errant gobs of lubricant. Her grandma made that coverlet. Buffy should have blushed but there was no blush left in her, only deep relaxed breaths and arms akimbo.
He had bitten her after taking her so sweetly she could weep. Something was happening; she could feel it to her bones. That last easy orgasm was more devastating than the previous night’s wild and voracious ones combined. Spike was far more dangerous to her smooth than rough, gentle than animal. He was one diabolical fiend.
Why then was it that she wanted him again?
Shit.