Chapter Two

*~*

Ten minutes ago, the world spun around in its usual screwed up orbit as it had, without fail, for each of her nineteen years of life.  Ten minutes ago, Buffy had been happy in her delusion that Spike was evil and that the only vampire she could ever care for had a soul and helped the helpless in Los Angeles .  Ten minutes ago, she’d have shoved a stake through the heart of anyone suggesting that she’d end up here, on the far side of the stairwell in the now darkened back corner of the Bronze with not-so-evil Spike, his fingers dancing over her skin and hers clutching his coat, kissing him as though the fate of the world depended on it.

From the stage, this week’s indie band was playing something loud and upbeat that rattled the walls, vibrated along her spine and tickled every nerve in her body.  Buffy’s brain hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of her, leaving her more than a little dazed over the night’s drastic left turn even as she nipped at Spike’s bottom lip just so he’d make that growly moan again.  He didn’t disappoint, the purely erotic sound rumbling up from his chest and through into hers.

An insistent, flaming throb of desire flooded her belly and shot needy, dizzying twinges of want from her womb straight to her aching clit.  He just felt so good against her.  Too good, with the way he threw his entire self into kissing her, holding her hostage with his body and seeking to possess her with his passion. 

And she wanted it, needed it, more than breathing, more than anything.  It frightened and exhilarated her all at once.

Spike finally pried open the clasp of her bra, and without breaking the kiss, he slid his fingers around and beneath the loosened cups to pinch her already hardened nipples.  Buffy gasped into his mouth and arched her back, and Spike thrust eagerly against her.  A little jolt of pain shot through her belly and Spike’s lips stilled on hers as she moaned, unable to prevent the whimper of hurt.

He pulled back to look at her closely, his right hand drifting down her abdomen to settle over the bandage.  She could see the uncertainty in his eyes, as if he expected her to bolt now that the pain had cleared her head a bit and she realized what she was doing.  But she’d known that well before she let him drag her into the Bronze and from where she was standing just now, the immediate benefits far outweighed the long-term risks.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Buffy pulled him back into the kiss and took great delight in his lustful answering growl.

He shifted himself slightly to his left, nudging his thigh between hers and pinning her to the wall from her unwounded side.  Buffy swallowed a moan as his erection prodded her hip and he pressed his leg deliberately into her crotch, teasing her clit with just enough pressure to send tingles of pleasure through her belly that washed away the lingering traces of pain.  His right hand tugged at her belt loop, pulling her into him again and repeating the rush of sensation.  She began moving against him, seeking the friction, rocking her hips in a slow rhythm and wanting nothing more than to lose herself in this.  In Spike and the passion he promised.

When Spike broke the kiss, he panted as hard as Buffy, his breathing ragged despite his not needing it.  His eyes had that blazing look in them again, and they grew heavy-lidded when he glanced down to watch their movements against each other, gripping her hips to guide them.  Buffy let her head fall back, biting her lip and moaning quietly with the start of the slow burn building more and more each time she made contact.  Spike took the invitation she'd intended and began to kiss and nibble his way up from her shoulder to that little spot below her ear that made her stomach clench with need when bitten.

“That feel good, Buffy?” he asked, nipping there again with a bit more force, pulling her harder onto his leg and thrusting against her in turn.

“Mmm, yeah,” she answered, half-moaning the words and surprising herself with her easy acknowledgement.  Her highly useful ability to deny just about anything, no matter how obvious, had fled tonight along with her inhibitions and she couldn’t find the will to care.

Spike growled softly against her neck, and looked down again.  “Love how you look when you move like that,” he whispered.

One hand left her hip, making light swirls over her skin with his fingers as they moved upward, until he cupped her breast, kneading it softly. 

“Love hearing your heart poundin’ away,” he said, tapping a finger in time to its frantic beating.  “And your cheeks, all warm an’ flushed...” He leaned in closer, his lips touching her ear.  “Delectable .”

The word, barely more than a whisper, rippled through her in a full-body shiver.

“Oh, God.”

“Want to touch you,” Spike said, a finger from his other hand tracing the circle of her pants’ button.  “Do you want that, Buffy?”

God, did she ever.

Buffy nodded rapidly, not trusting her mouth not to mangle any sort of spoken words. 

Spike pulled the button free and met her eyes with that burning gaze again.  “Do you want me , Buffy?”

No point in denying it, because clearly she did.  Once more, Buffy nodded.

Spike pulled her zipper down half way.  “Say it.”

“I want you, Spike.”

He smiled softly, completely at odds with the look in his eyes and the situation all together.  Touching his forehead to hers, he asked, “What do you want me to do?”

She knew he knew what she wanted, with the way his fingers were toying with her zipper pull and feathering teasing, light touches on her belly, but feeling bold, Buffy answered, “Touch me.”

The smile matched the eyes now, all teeth and tongue and seduction, and she needed him to be touching her, to be stroking her flesh with those masterful fingers until she came apart around him.

He pulled her zipper the rest of the way down and, shifting her off his leg, slipped his hand inside her pants.

“Like this?” he asked, rubbing teasingly along the top of her thong, an eyebrow raised up in false innocence.

Buffy dug her fingers into his bicep and grunted, “Lower.”

Grinning mischievously, Spike pushed his fingers beneath the lace but stopped short, lightly stoking her curls.  “Here?”

Buffy shook her head, nudging her hips forward to encourage him even though she sensed he wasn’t done teasing – which wouldn’t be such a bad thing except that she was going to explode, and not in the good, orgasmic kind of way, if she didn’t get some friction now .

But he wasn’t nearly done, at least judging by that smirk.  Running a finger down the crease of her leg, Spike said, “Need to tell me where, love.”

God, he wanted her to say it!  There was absolutely no way she was going to be able say any of those words to Spike without dying on the spot.  She felt her cheeks burn hotter just thinking it, and decided to change the rules of the game, right now, because he’d taken charge long enough and it was more than time for her turn on top – pun very much intended.

Buffy grabbed his face and kissed him hard, bucking her hips forward against his hand and pushing his fingers exactly where she wanted them.

He growled into the kiss but instead of breaking it, slipped his tongue into her mouth while his fingers slid between her labia and into her near biblical flood of wetness.  His thumb grazed her clit and his kiss swallowed her moan as she rapidly lost the breath to keep up with it.     After a few experimental strokes of his fingers, Spike began making circles of increasing pressure until Buffy, rapidly growing lightheaded, pulled away from his lips, chest heaving as she struggled to take in enough air to keep from blacking out.

Because this?  Felt far too good to miss, and if she were going to end up on the floor, well, it wouldn’t be because she’d fallen unconscious.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly her body responded to his attention – almost .  She had better things to focus on than that, especially when he pushed two fingers inside her without disrupting the steady motion of his thumb.  Buffy arched her hips into his hand and clutched at his shoulders for balance, spreading her legs as far apart as she could as she mentally congratulated herself on her convenient choice of loose-fitting pants for tonight’s death-of-a-slayer discussion.

“Oh, Buffy,” Spike said with obvious affection and reverence, his gaze intense and his pupils wide as he watched her.  “You’re bloody gorgeous like this.”

Buffy couldn’t have answered if she wanted to.  Anything more complicated than a moan of pleasure and the occasional Oh, God! were beyond her means at the moment.  Spike didn’t seem to mind though, just continued pumping his fingers into her, curling them just so with each plunge and hitting that place inside guaranteed to buckle her knees and steal her breath while alighting her whole body with electric jolts of ecstasy.  It took all her strength, at this point, to remain upright.

When the first tingling hints of her impending climax started, Buffy dropped her head onto Spike’s shoulder.  Her internal muscles fluttered in warning, prompting a string of words from Spike she wasn’t able to process due to the icy fire overtaking her body in a slow, rolling wave.   Each slippery plunge, each powerful stroke over her swollen clit brought another moan, louder, closer together, until her muscles tightened around his fingers.

One more thrust, one more twist, and Buffy crashed.

Hard.

The music pounded away in the background, drowning out her cries to all but the two of them.  Pinned between Spike and the wall, Buffy shook with the force of her orgasm, somehow keeping her feet on the floor even though her legs felt like jelly and everything else in the world dropped away into nothing except for the indescribable sensations and Spike’s encouraging voice buzzing in her ear. 

The universe slowly drifted back into hazy focus as the tremors of climax gave way to shivery aftershocks.  Buffy’s bones turned to rubber and she slumped against Spike, who caught her before her legs gave out, still whispering to her and stroking her hair.  Buffy let him hold her. It felt too comfortable resting in his arms not to stay there. His gentle touch was a safe haven in the aftermath of that heady, body-melting storm.

Minutes passed before Buffy figured she could trust her legs again and she shifted to take her weight, but didn’t pull out of Spike’s arms.  Lifting her head, she glanced up at him and couldn’t help the lazy smile that spread across her face even as she tried to suppress it, afraid she’d find a smug, gloating Spike looking back at her.  Instead, Spike smiled softly and kissed her on the nose, and though his eyes glinted with a hint of teasing, this wasn’t the face of a monster that was going to turn around and torment her for letting him under her skin.  Typical Spike, though, she thought.  If he planned to go for the kill, you knew it from the get go. 

So, soulless, yes, but a monster?  Buffy knew she had some serious re-thinking to do where Spike was concerned.  She may have had the phenomenal orgasm, but she sensed that it was a much bigger deal to Spike and not for any twisted, nefarious reasons, either. 

It was a big deal because he loved her.  Because he was in love with her.

There was danger, giving in to that.  Going into this with the knowledge that every time he touched her, it wasn’t about sex.  It was about loving her.

But Buffy couldn’t bring herself to mind, not with her body still tingling in the aftermath.  Not with whatever else she felt at work here, too, something that went beyond the physical, beyond the expected.  She wasn’t ready to look too closely at it yet, but she could feel it, a spark of connection crackling between them, a hint of power, something as supernatural as the two of them running deep below the surface of an intense, mutual attraction.

Buffy stuffed those treacherous thoughts down.  She wasn’t going there, not now.  Maybe not ever.  She’d give him tonight, like he’d asked, as she’d agreed, and then, well, she didn’t know.  She wouldn’t let herself look too far ahead, for fear of what she might see if she did.

“Still with me, love?” Spike asked, touching her chin with a Buffy-moistened finger to turn her face up to his.

He had to raise his voice against the din of the music, but the increase in volume failed to diminish its sultry tones.  A shiver erupted, shaking her body with its presence and curling the corners of Spike’s lips.

Buffy managed a laugh.  “All but my toes, I think.”

“Mmmm,” Spike said.  “Gotta see about making that legs , sweetheart.  You always that much of a screamer?”

Heat flooded her cheeks and she knew, even without a mirror, they would be flushed a deep, blood red.  Spike made the rumbling half-growl, half-purr sound that caused her heart to race as he touched his lips to each heated circle.

“I bet,” he whispered, pausing to trace the contour of her ear with his sinful tongue.  “I can make you scream even louder.”

Considering what he’d done with fingers alone, Buffy had no doubts that he could.  She was also ridiculously turned-on again when just seconds ago she’d been ready to fall asleep.

But turned-on Buffy was also brave Buffy, and brave Buffy wanted to even the score a little.  After all, she was the Slayer, and the Slayer couldn’t let the vampire win. Not even this .

“You don’t look like a screamer to me, Spike,” she said, her heart speeding up at the thought of what she was about to do.  Buffy reached between them to squeeze his erection and grinned when Spike gasped and bit hard into his lip.  “But I bet I can make you feel so good you’ll forget your own name.”

She thought she saw his eyes roll back in his head a little at her words, and when she popped the button on his jeans, he groaned in a way that bolstered her boldness and played to her growing need to be in control.

Buffy dropped to her knees, pulling Spike’s zipper down with her.  She wasn’t surprised to find he went commando; probably thought it made him more of a badass that way or something.  Once freed, Spike’s cock bobbed eagerly out in front of her, and it was Buffy’s turn to groan.

Spike wasn’t a large man.  He wasn’t much taller than her, in fact, and though well-muscled, he was definitely below average in stature.  But there was absolutely nothing average about this .  Thinking of Spike as cocky now took on an entirely different meaning.

And oh, was he ever going to make her scream.  But she would do her best to make good on her promise to him first.

Buffy wrapped her fingers around the base of his thick shaft, and Spike hissed and slammed his palm into the wall above her.  She slowly stroked him from base to tip and he moaned her name, and when she swirled her thumb through the drop of pre-come glistening at the head and brought her hand back down again, he swore under his breath and bucked his hips forward.

Grinning at his reaction – she’d barely touched him yet – Buffy pressed her lips to the smooth head peaking out from its hood of foreskin, loving the way Spike’s whole body vibrated subtly beneath her touch.  She snuck her tongue past her lips and licked him from base to tip, feeling a jolt of arousal surge through her at the way her name sounded when Spike begged her to let him in.

Buffy glanced up at him as she fully exposed his sensitive tip and circled it with her tongue. She caught his eyes, dark and intense as he watched her, and something in his expression, a look she couldn’t place, made her insides quiver with desire and anticipation and a million other things she couldn’t name, but which felt huge . 

She knew the power she held over him now.  While she wouldn’t quite crown herself the blowjob queen, she wasn’t new to this, but the heat in her veins wasn’t just about that, no matter how much she liked to tell herself it was.  Like everything tonight, she didn’t understand it, just that it was .

Buffy blew lightly on Spike’s moistened flesh and watched his eyelids flutter shut.  The instant his eyes closed, she took him into her mouth, easing back his foreskin with her hand as her lips glided along his shaft.  Spike’s fingers curled immediately into her hair, but instead of the half-expected demanding tug, his fingertips brushed her scalp in an attempt at a gentle caress before his hand settled, open-palmed, at the crown of her head.

Spike had more cock than Buffy had mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind that she had to finish her stroke with her hand.  Not at all, judging by the way he moaned her name and massaged her head with his fingers.  He seemed to like it equally as much – with the thrusting into her mouth and the almost-louder-than-the-music cursing – when she experimented with swallowing around him.  After that, as she withdrew while lightly scraping her teeth along his flesh, sounds tumbled freely from his lips but Spike pretty much stopped making sense.

The ache between her legs throbbed in time to the beat of the drums.  Spike’s cock slipped smoothly in and out of her mouth, guided but not forced by his hand as she bobbed her head while he thrust with his hips.  Buffy had enjoyed doing this before, but something about the unrestrained enthusiasm of Spike’s reaction to her made this unlike her other experiences, almost making it completely new.

Buffy wanted him, even more than she had when he’d made her admit it before.

She wanted the cock in her mouth to be sliding its length deep inside her, stretching her farther than she could even imagine.

She wanted the fingers in her hair to be strumming her clit as he pounded into her, driving her wild with that expert touch.

She wanted those lips, rumbling with obscenities and praise and the most erotic version of her name she’d ever heard to be kissing hers until the world around them disappeared forever.

Buffy wanted Spike. 

She wanted him, and she was terrified that she’d never stop.

*~*

  To Be Continued in Chapter Three