A/N: Thanks to Slaymesoftly for beta-ing for me! This chapter is dedicated to Megan, and she knows why. Additional thanks for revies to: Elizabeth A Summers, Tasha, Always_jbj, bubble blunder, Esther, Ariel Dawn, and sue.

Prodigal - Chapter Eleven

Bethmara sighed into the kiss Spike pressed to her lips, the thin robe around her body doing nothing to protect her, serving only to heighten the sensation of his hard frame against her. For a cloud-filled moment, she was a young woman in the arms of her lover, lost in the beautiful passion of their embrace, wondering at the firm softness of Spike’s mouth over her own. The thought of his name was enough to wrench her from her dream-like state. This was Spike, a pitiless killing machine, a half-breed demon – not her date to the fucking prom.

Her hands, which had unconsciously wound around the back of his neck, slid upwards into his blond hair and twisted, exerting a pressure she knew must be painful as she yanked his head backwards. Spike snarled in reaction, anger and desire warring on his face, his own grasp around her body strengthening to communicate his unwillingness to release her. Not that Bethmara wanted him to let her go, or even stop: hell, she’d been more than ready for a re-run down in the street. She just wasn’t about to repeat her previous mistakes by thinking there was something romantic about rutting like possessed animals. Dressing up the act with the trappings of seduction was just one more lie, and she was done with that kind of false comfort, her ideals well and truly beaten out of her by Angelus’ offhand cruelty and subsequent emotional games. The naïve young girl who’d been stripped of all pretence in the mansion’s courtyard was long gone and Bethmara had no use for the soft and gentle approach.

Spike could sense the girl’s excitement and desire, the air permeated with the acrid tang of her arousal, so the sudden pain as she hauled his head backwards confused him. Despite Angelus’ ‘instruction’, the blond vampire had never found rapine appealing and regardless of his frustration, he wasn’t about to proceed if Buffy/Bethmara had other ideas. And not just because it would end up with him resized for an ashtray. His dilemma was solved as Bethmara decisively ground her lips to his in an open mouthed kiss, her tongue plunging straight into the cool wet haven of his mouth and plundering it thoroughly while her free hand slid upwards to rub his cotton-covered chest. The girl’s teeth captured his own agile tongue and scraped along it before biting just a little harder to raise a growl from his throat. He felt her smile as she attacked his mouth with her own and it surprised him, reminding the vampire once more that this was not the virginal Slayer he’d come to hate.

‘Likes it dark and rough, does she? Well, then….’ Before his conscious mind could intervene, a century of habit took over, his demonic nature seizing the reins and indulging itself fully, though he held his human visage firmly in place. His fingers roamed over her silk clad body, squeezing and moulding her firm yet pliant curves as he went before his hands travelled to Bethmara’s shoulders, gathered the material in two handfuls and simply yanked, the robe fluttering to the floor in two halves to leave the beauty before him nude to his gaze. He withdrew to arm’s length, allowing his eyes to precede his hands and tongue as they drank in her petite, perfect form, the fragility of her appearance belying the strength he knew she commanded.

Bethmara smiled to herself as he tore her clothing, delighted that she was causing him to lose his control an inch at a time. Here was no hesitant, fumbling youth to treat her as though she were spun from glass – here was a man who would take what he wanted and to hell with the consequences. Well, not a man, but in the vampire she had the best of both worlds – appealing - no, more than appealing - packaging, and a demon’s strength with the will to use it. She licked her lips, relishing the promise of what was to come, and closed the small distance between them.

“You’re overdressed for this party,” she informed him, her husky voice causing Spike to swallow hard.

“You gonna help me with that?” He couldn’t take his eyes from hers, watching her with a mixture of lust, fascination and a wariness that went beyond any of their previous encounters. Without answering him, delicate fingers slid the leather from his back and down his arms, tossing the coat to one side before returning to peel the black shirt upwards over his abdomen until Bethmara could lift it partly over his head. His mouth was exposed but the tight fabric covered the rest of his head, and he made no move to free himself when he felt her warm breath across his chest. Suddenly, with no preamble, her teeth closed tightly around his left nipple, the unexpected stimulation drawing a hiss from him and arching his back. Pausing only to flick her tongue in a lazy circle around the now hardened nub, Bethmara moved upwards to bite Spike’s lower lip, tugging a little even as her nails raked his back and he cried out, pulling the shirt over his head with one arm as the other gripped her wrist in a firm hold. His eyes flickered with golden anger when he saw her nails dripping blood, part of him outraged that she’d marked him and the rest riding high on the crest of violent desire. The look on her face, though half-shielded by her long dark locks, did nothing to conceal the fact that she knew what she was doing, that she was deliberately provoking him; that was all he needed to throw any remaining caution to the wind.

Bethmara struggled to free her hand, trying to break the hold he had upon her only to find the pressure increasing. Her free arm swung without her even thinking about it, (without conscious thought)her fingers spread to close around his throat, but to her consternation he intercepted to place a similar grip on her other wrist. Try though she might, she couldn’t wriggle free and she felt the first stirring of alarm.

“It’s not just about how strong you are, pet,” Spike grinned. “It’s about finding the right leverage.” He demonstrated his point by pulling Bethmara off balance and using one leg to sweep hers away, following her to the floor as she fell. Pinning her small wrists with one of his much larger hands, he smirked as he explored her body, paying attention to the peaked nipples before trailing along her ribs, cupping the curve of her hip and then dipping to her centre. She was soaking, as his nose had told him she would be, even if the elevated heart rate and heaving bosom hadn’t been a giveaway. One finger teased along the outside of her slit, enough to tantalise only, and he was rewarded with her legs sliding wider apart as she bucked her hips in search of more. He was torn between his desire to watch her as he used his fingers to bring her off and the need simply to sheath himself within her for the first time, not wanting the surprise of her tightness to be spoiled by his manual attentions.

“Tell me what you want. I might even give it to you,” Spike smiled wickedly down at her, amused when the lust held in those hazel eyes became tinged with defiance.

“If you’re after a written invitation we could be here a while,” Bethmara grated before his fingers nudging her clit led to a shocked gasp.

“That’s not what I’m after and you know it, kitten. I want you to confess each and every one of the sinful little thoughts you’ve been having about my hard body – does a man’s ego good, you know. Not to mention how sexy it’ll be for me to see those luscious pink lips of yours saying all sorts of nasty things.”

Bethmara’s eyes narrowed in indignation and denial at both Spike’s high opinion of himself and his insistence that she talk dirty to him. She’d just determined to thwart him by keeping silent when he returned his hand to her breast and rolled over her, pressing his still covered groin against hers in a delicious friction. Spike’s tongue was lodged in a curl behind his white teeth in an appraising look above her, as though he had all the time in the world.

‘What the hell… It’s only a game,’ she reasoned with what small part of her brain was not consumed by sensation. Once, she might have felt inhibited or embarrassed by what he was demanding of her, which no doubt was the motivation behind his insistence, but now she was merely aware that she lacked only practice. If he expected her to back down, however, he was underestimating her.

Truthfully, Spike had anticipated the slayer’s stubborn streak and middle-class upbringing to have her blushing to the roots of her hair by now in response to his suggestion, and the fact that she had yet to turn that becoming shade of rose told him more than he cared to admit about the changes in her life. But he was nothing if not an opportunist – hell, he’d made an art form from playing both ends against the middle. If she’d blushed, he’d have known Buffy wasn’t so far gone that she’d completely lost her modesty, but the fact that she didn’t gave him hope that maybe she wasn’t averse to communicating. And besides getting his rocks off, it might smooth the path to dialogue about what she’d done that had so gotten the powered light brigade all riled up.

Bethmara ground herself against his crotch with an eagerness that stunned him, even as she began to whisper.

“I want to feel your fingers inside me, pumping into my wet, tight, hot little hole until you make me scream with pleasure and see stars. I want your mouth and tongue on my nipples, and then on my clit. Then I want you to slide your cock into me so far it hurts, taking it nice and slow so that I feel every last inch while I squeeze you so hard you think you’re going to burst before you screw me into the floor.” The words came slowly at first, but as she saw the effect they were having upon the vampire pinning her, his eyes closing and a rumbling growl erupting from deep within his chest, Bethmara’s confidence grew. Her sense of power and female pride swelled as she realised being brazen wasn’t simply fun, it was another weapon to be used; a wicked thought stole into her mind.

“You want to fuck a Slayer, don’t you, Spike? You’re obsessed with them – hunting them, fighting them, draining them – but you’ve never managed to seduce one. You’re curious though, aren’t you? You want to know how it would feel to fuck a warm, wet woman who’s strong enough to take everything you have to give, no holding back. And all that blood just beneath the surface, calling to you, even while I use my muscles to give you the ride of your unlife. C’mon, Spike. Show the Slayer what you’ve got,” she urged, undulating against him.

Even though she wasn’t strictly a Slayer any longer, she knew she’d touched a nerve when his eyes opened to stare into hers with amber intensity. Rather than frightening her, it only increased her arousal that she was so close to achieving her goal. She didn’t want this game, this teasing – she wanted him wild and frenzied and inside her.

“Spike… we’ve had nearly a year of foreplay, and now I’m right where you want me. Do it.”

Taking her at her word and unable to stand waiting a moment longer, Spike released her breast and ripped open his belt and fly. In one fluid motion he surged into Buffy’s core and gave her everything she’d asked for, and more.

*~*~*~*~*~*

In Sunnydale, Giles, having thrown himself into research as soon as the vampire had hung up, double-checked the translation of the latest passage he’d found which held a reference to the name Spike had given to him. The mention was vague, to say the least, and he decided that perhaps he would be better advised to sleep before looking into the matter further. Buffy had obviously been fine for all these months, which relieved a great deal of his concern, but Spike’s words had raised new worries for which he had no answers.

As he trudged to the bathroom, his phone rang, summoning him to hurriedly pick up the receiver.

“Hello? Oh, yes. What do you want?” He resisted the urge to sigh impatiently as he kneaded the tight muscles in his neck. At the speaker’s next words however, his eyes widened in shocked pain.

“Oh, god. I’m sorry. Do her parents know? Oh, I see. Well, thank you for letting me know…” His voice trailed off as his caller continued.

“What, none at all? That’s impossible. Perhaps she’s simply not been located…. No, I understand that, but still…. Well, I don’t know what help I can offer….As you know full well, I have been looking for Buffy for months. Yes, I do have a lead, and I’m following it up. I will, of course, keep you informed. I’d be grateful if you could do the same. Goodnight.”

Giles looked longingly towards the stairs, wishing he could rest, but duty called him once more to his books. He only hoped Spike would call again in the very near future.