Taste of Slayer On My Lips

I should have left the sodding town when I could. If I didn’t turn and walk away, I’ll go back and throw myself at her feet and beg for my unlife, just to stay by her side.

I knew when she asked me to bite her she had some secret plot. Nobody, absolutely nobody in his or her right mind asks to be bitten, it just does not happen. But it did, and I did, and now I have to pay the price.

I really was planning to leave when I said my piece in the magic shop. I knew that I needed to drive that wedge a little deeper between the Slayer and that great sodding wank of a Sire of mine. Those soulful looks, that puppy-dog face of his—it was all making me sick. It nearly made me lose my appetite, it did. My little treatise on love and friendship put anger in its place, and that was enough for me. Mainly because he knew I was right. Couldn’t admit it, because that would mean that ol’ Spike was smarter than the poof was. But the pissed off look replaced the broody look, and it had to make me smile.

I couldn’t stand the look on her face though. Her second-guessing herself. It bothered me, for what reason I have no clue, but I wanted to wipe that look off her face. She deserves…God, what am I saying? She’s the Slayer, she deserves to die. Never been able to do it yet, but someday, when we dance, one of us will end. Maybe both. It would only be fitting.

Instead of leaving town like a smart vamp, I turned around after I passed the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign, ran it over again, and went to find her.

You know it always amazed me, the number of cemeteries in a town this size. Seventeen cemeteries. Of course, I found her in the first one I looked, because, hey, Vampire, and master at that. I could feel her in my gut a mile off, and just followed my nose.

Watched her dance for a minute, until the fledges noticed me, then scampered off. Almost makes you sick. Vampires are not the same bleeding creatures of the night that they used to be.

She stood there in the middle of the cemetery, waiting for me. She didn’t have a stake out; she just waited with her hands at her side, watching me walk closer and closer. It was almost like she was waiting for me to make my move and have a real good day.

When I kissed her, tasted her, I knew that she would be a helluva shag. She had this twang to her blood that called to the demon in me, something that I’ve never tasted on anyone’s lips before. Not into rape or forcing the issue, so I pulled back and waited for her to decide.

Yeah, I smelled her. She was hot for me, she was, and it was like a flower on the air. I guess I was drunk on the possibilities of shagging a Slayer, never thought it could happen. She was there, I was there, and she wanted a taste of cold comfort. I could give it to her, since she couldn’t get it from poncy old Captain Forehead.

When she kissed me, I almost blew it in my pants like some nancy schoolboy. I never thought a mouth could be as hot as hers was. Don’t mind me if I wax poetic here, but she was a bleedin’ flame, furiously burning, and I was the moth trying to come close enough to her heat and not burn myself.

She wrapped her arms and legs around me, and pointed to a crypt, and I carried her over to it and kicked the door in. She was writhing and hot, and wanted it bad, I could tell, so I put her down to lay the duster on the floor—hey, ‘m a gentleman, what can I say? Sat myself down and started having a good snog with the bird, and she was all over me.

I just let my nature take its natural course, and pretty soon, I had a nipple in my mouth and my hand buried in that sweet quim of hers. She was hotter here, slick too, and my fingers glided around her flesh like it was made of melted butter. It felt like liquid silk, it did, and I can close my eyes and remember the smell of her hitting me like a ton of bricks on my chest. I forgot to breathe, it was so…intoxicating. Yeah. It was Slayer and musk and her own Buffy scent, and sex and lust and desire and blood, and God help me, it made me drunk.

I guess that’s why I stopped. Then I felt her hand on my cock, and decided that stopping was definitely not what the bint wanted me to do. I yanked her pants off one leg, and she settled on top of me like she belonged there, her hand on my cock, slicking it up with her juices.

She sits down on me, putting me inside her and its like a bleeding inferno engulfing my cock. I almost panic and throw her off of me, but hold off and let her slide down all the way. She frowned, and blood filled the air, and I realized Slayer healing had its perks. She’d regrown her hymen since her last encounter…could that have been Angel?

I know I gave her a funny look, somewhere between disbelief and awe, just at the thought that she would fuck me to begin with. She got this soft look, like the ones she gives the poof, and she was looking at me. At me! Not the poof, not her bloody friends, but me. Warms the old heart, it does. Shoulda pissed me off, I guess, but there’s never been a dearth of those looks in my life, not from anyone but my mum, and a bloke deserves to get a look like that when he’s shagging a bint, doesn’t he?

She loosened up a bit, and started touching me, and I started to really get into this. She wasn’t trying to hurt me or stake me, wasn’t fucking me for blood or favors, just because she wanted to, and somehow, I forgot about wanting to kill her, just for a minute.

I think that’s when she snuck inside and set up shop, you know?

She touched my face and said something, and for the love of God I cannot remember what, and then she kissed me.

I tell you, that kiss…you know, there are kisses that don’t mean anything, its just something you do to be nice. Then there are kisses that carry a world of meaning, kisses that tell you everything you need to know about a person, everything they feel. This was one of those kisses. The ones that change your life. I just didn’t know it yet.

She was grinding against me, so I flipped her onto her back and started it giving it good. She raked at me with her nails and nipped at me with her teeth, and it was hard not to slip into game face and take myself a nip. Still, I wanted to finish, not dust, so I kept my demon under control.

She was gripping my cock with her cunny, and it felt like a fist she was that tight. It rippled like fingers running up and down my shaft, and I was fascinated by the sensation. I slowed down to savor the feeling, and she picked then to ask what she did.

She asked me not to stop, like I had planned on it. Right. This pussy was too sweet to pass up, and there was not a chance in hell I was stopping now.

She wanted it hard and dirty, and I was just the vamp to do it. I watched her rolling her nipples in her fingers, and it did something for me, don’t know why. Just the thought I guess. The Slayer, a dirty girl—who would have thought?

I grabbed her ass and lifted her up to fuck into her harder. It seemed to be what she needed. I could feel her tighten up like a wound spring underneath me, and started to reach for her clit when she started shaking her head and talking under her breath.

She was asking me to bite her. Repeatedly. I almost blew then too.

I couldn’t help but be surprised, and she actually noticed. I let my demon come forth, and she didn’t shrink away or push me off like I thought she would. She looked at me with respect, or what looked like it, and pulled my mouth to her neck.

I could smell the copper of her blood rolling in her skin. It sent a shiver clear through me to my cock, and I almost couldn’t stop myself. But a bite on an unprepared neck hurts, and my demon couldn’t even muster the stones to hurt her, not now. I licked her, tasted her, let the flavor of her sweat and scent roll around in my mouth and permeate my nostrils. I filled myself with her until I knew that she was ready, and then slid my fangs into her butter-soft skin.

I will never forget the flavor of her as she slid across my tongue and down my throat for the first time. It was like the first sip of fine wine, the first crisp bite of apple in the harvest, the first salty bite of oysters. She was that and so much more, layered with Slayer and desire and a dash of fear. I sipped. I savored. It was the greatest gift I’ve ever been given, and I had to control myself from drinking her down completely. I felt her bones slip, and she was coming, jerking like a rag doll in an urchin’s fist, and I let myself go.

It was a taste of heaven. It was too much. I closed my eyes, and sealed the wounds on her long, silky neck, and felt her watching me. I was drunk on her life and her blood, and decided not to hide how she had affected me from her all-seeing eyes.

She wondered why I didn’t kill her.

Should I have told her? No. How can you tell anyone, especially a human and the Slayer at that, their blood tastes like home? How do you say that you could spend the rest of your unlife begging at her feet for another taste? That her blood was bloody ambrosia, and you would let her dust you for another drink?

You can’t. There is no nice way to say it. So you don’t.

Aw, I didn’t leave her hang. I’m a gentleman, remember? I made some comment about honor and fists and fangs, and she took it all at face value. Sworn enemies, you know? S’just a friendly little shag goodbye. Not like we’re sodding Romeo and Juliet.

So why am I here? Why am I talking to you?

Because I can’t get her off my mind. Had her in my grasp, waiting for the good day, and let it go for a piece of ass. I’m a sad, sorry mess, I am. Sorry excuse for a vampire. Couldn’t kill the Slayer when I had her there, right under me, with my fangs in her neck, just because she tasted so fucking good I wanted to crawl inside her.

Huh? Si, uno mas. One more before I head back to California and slaughter her like I should have. Only this time, no Mr. Nice Guy. No, this time she’ll be dealing with the Big Bad, El Mal Grande, and she’s gonna know it.

S’easy to talk to you, you know? Must be a bartender thing. Ah, uno mas.