Disclaimer: Joss & Mutant Enemy own all, but I have to do something to make up for no BtVS on TV and no deleted scenes on the DVDs!
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Previously, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Spike grabbed Buffy under her arms and bodily hauled her up so they were face to face again on the couch. He crushed his lips to hers in a demanding kiss, trying to convey his fierce passion for her that nearly consumed him. “Need you,” he said in that delicious, bedroom voice of his that oozed sexual prowess.

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Spike stood up, still holding his hot little Slayer to his body. His jeans were still open and hanging onto his hips, and Buffy could feel his velvety shaft pressing urgently against her. Buffy's fingers played at the nape of his neck while her legs remained wrapped around his strong hips. Spike had moved his hands to support the Slayer under her delicious little bum, and he gave it a squeeze for good measure. She only ground her hips harder against his erection, and her panties were starting to get soaked with her excitement.


Spike began to walk toward the opening in his crypt floor that led to his bedchamber. He loved kissing his Slayer when she was clutching to him like this; it reminded him of their first, torrid coupling. He groaned and breathed out, “Slayer...” Buffy loved that voice of his, the little nasties he would whisper only got her more revved up. She slid down his body and landed on her feet. She pulled on Spike’s hand as she headed down the stairs to his bedroom below.


Buffy knew that Spike wouldn’t truly be satisfied until he could give her some satisfaction. She wanted so desperately to remain in control of the situation, but she also wanted to surprise Spike and show him how very sorry he was. She cringed again when she looked at his swollen eye. It suddenly hit her—She knew exactly how she could make it all up to poor Spikey!


“Do you trust me?” she asked, echoing his words from two nights ago. Spike quirked the eyebrow above his unaffected eye, and a wolfish grin began to spread across his lips.


“Singing my tune, are we, luv?” Spike imagined a replay of two nights ago, with his hands shackled and Buffy riding his cock into oblivion.


Buffy led Spike by the hand toward his bed. The golden sheets shimmered in the candlelight. She picked up the handcuffs that were laying on the end table beside the bed, and dangled them from her index finger. She offered them up to Spike, and said, a little too sweetly, “Help me put these on?”


Spike’s jaw just about hit the floor, and he replayed what she had just said in his mind. Quickly, Buffy removed her tightly fitting shirt, revealing a lacy black bra. She turned around and motioned for Spike to undo the clasp. She then turned back toward him, revealing her beautiful, pert breasts to his open, wanton gaze. She backed up and laid herself out on his bed, for his eyes to drink in the sight of her.


Spike dropped his already unbuttoned shirt to the floor. Then, he grabbed each of the Slayer’s boots and unceremoniously pulled them off her as fast as he could. He planted his knee between her legs and leaned over her, grabbing her wrists with his free hand. Then she heard the ‘click’ of the handcuffs fastening her hands together. Buffy realized that, ironically, by submitting to Spike and putting herself in this vulnerable position, Spike would be thrown for a loop. She was, in a sense, more in control by giving up the control.


At that moment, Spike began to slowly and reverently worship her body with his trembling hands. He ran his fingertips along her stretched out arms, almost tickling the sensitive undersides of her limbs. His thumbs caressed her face, and he ran his index finger along the curve of her lips. She nipped at his finger, drawing it into her mouth to slowly and sensually suckle on it. He drew in a shuddered breath, remembering her soft tongue on his cock just minutes ago.


Spike’s fingertips glided down the long column of her neck, and with a feather-light touch, he continued the movement over her breasts and stomach. Spike began to knead her breasts and roll her stiffening peaks under the palms of his hands. His tongue joined in, flicking over her nipples. Then he sucked them deeply in his mouth — first one, then the other. Buffy couldn’t believe she was becoming even wetter as the feel of his tongue on her breasts went straight to her womb. But then again, Spike was pretty unbelievable in the things he could make her feel and do.


The increased scent of her arousal only increased the desperation with which Spike worshiped her breasts. God, how he loved this woman! She drove him out of his fuckin’ mind, but he knew he wanted to be gentle with her. She would never allow such slow adoration of her body before, and this was his chance. He wanted to show her what she was missing by skipping to the pulse-pounding rough and tumble.


Spike lowered himself to the top of her black pants, and began to slowly unbutton and unzip them. Buffy wordlessly complied when Spike urged her to lift her hips so he could remove her pants. “I love your teeny knickers, Slayer—Have I ever told you that?” Spike asked as he looked at Buffy, clad only in the small, lacy black thong that was soaked with her delicious aroma.


“Think I got the message when you started pocketing my panties after our, our—interludes,” Buffy managed with a weak smile. “Do you know what Victoria’s Secret really is?” she asked huffily. “Sell the teeniest scrap of fabric for the most amount of money possible. Your penchant for steeling my unmentionables hasn’t been easy on my budget.”


“’Spose you could just go ‘commando’ like me,” Spike offered suggestively. And with that last comment, he moved her panties aside and buried his head in her heat.


“So wet for me, my delicious Slayer,” he murmured against her pussy. “Love the way you taste, pet.” He licked her up and down in long, sanguineous strokes. Buffy began to jerk her hips every time his tongue flicked over her clit. Soon, Spike started to suckle on the sensitive bundle of her flesh, as he slowly slid one long digit into her aching sex. He began pumping his finger in and out, sucking greedily on her clit, and Buffy felt the pressure building. Spike moved his finger in, out and around, until he zeroed in on the feel of the spongy spot inside her tight walls. Buffy instantly clamped down harder on his fingers, titling her pelvis down toward the bed, intensifying the feeling.


“Spike, I need…” Buffy began to gasp, as she felt her climax building.


“Anything for you, baby,” he said in that husky, bedroom voice. He continued to pump his finger in and out of her, hitting her g-spot deep inside. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want to make you come for me, luv.” Then he returned his mouth to her lips, which were now swollen with her blood and need. He began to lick her juices from her beautiful pink pussy, and his inner demon sang while hearing the thrum of her racing heartbeat in her thighs which were now gripping his head tightly.


“So close—I need… more. Please…” Buffy begged. The cold metal handcuffs were only serving to heighten each sensation. She couldn’t touch him, and he had full access to every inch of her—it was delicious to be this vulnerable and open to him. Her nipples were as hard as jewels, and she felt a flush spread along her chest, as her insides continued to be increasingly coiled tighter, waiting for her release to spring her free.


Spike slid a second finger into her tight cunt, and the feel of his fingers stretching her threatened to push Buffy over the edge. Then Spike’s talented lips and tongue returned to her clit, and began sucking and flicking hard and fast, as he pumped his fingers in and out of her at a quick pace. Spike took a quick break from working her clit to whisper, “Come for me, kitten,” and then he returned to laving her clit with his tongue.


That did the trick—Buffy felt like she was going to fly apart into a million pieces. Her low moan turned into a wail—“Spike, yes! I’m coming!” He stilled his fingers deep within her, as she arched her hips violently off the bed. His mouth was still sucking on her clit, drawing out the delicious but overwhelming feeling of her orgasm. She came so hard that Spike had to hang on for dear life, as she slowly came down from her climax.


Spike’s head was practically spinning, as his now painful erection was pressing into the bed. Her ambrosia was delicious, and he felt as if he could get drunk on this nectar for the gods. He slowly withdrew his two fingers from her pussy, and gently kissed his way up from her pelvis, over her stomach, to her breasts, and up to her soft, full lips. Buffy could faintly smell and taste herself on his lips, but was too turned on to care. She felt his cock pressing urgently at her entrance, and she bucked her hips forward, urging Spike in.


Spike squeezed his eyes shut and muffled a moan, as the feel of her liquid heat engulfed him. Her strong muscles were still fluttering as a residual effect from her orgasm, and he loved the feel of her silken sex gripping his shaft. When he opened his eyes, her deep, hazel orbs were locked onto his face. He felt a knot grip him in his stomach, as she typically wouldn’t hold his gaze eyes during sex. She might briefly glance over at him, but then she quickly looked away or closed her eyes in an attempt to escape the feelings he tried to convey with his soft expression. His lips parted a little in a stunned expression, but he refused to break eye contact.


Spike squeezed the muscles in his tight ass together as he began to push deeper into her core, forcing a breathy moan from Buffy’s lips. Her arms were still locked together and stretched above her head. Spike shifted positions so that his knees were helping to support his weight, and his arms snaked possessively around her body—one beneath her head, and the other around her waist. Buffy had locked her legs around his hips, as Spike drew his cock slowly out of her body, only to slide luxuriously back into her depths. The vampire and slayer didn’t take their eyes off each other—there were no words, no kisses, just a deep, penetrating gaze to accompany the incredible feelings of being locked together in this embrace.


It was getting too intense, so Buffy had to break the silence. “I do trust you,” she said, almost too soft for a mere mortal to hear. Spike stilled his hips, and pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes squeezed shut again, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill. It was killing him to know that this was a brief moment of intimacy. Buffy had broken down her walls and let him into her heart, as well as her bed, but it wouldn’t last — It never did. After the shag, she’d be off and running. She wouldn’t acknowledge what he meant to her except on rare occasions after their, how had she put it? Oh yeah, their “interludes.” Still, hope springs eternal in the heart of a poet, even if it no longer beats.


Buffy began undulating her hips again, signaling to Spike to keep up the pace. Spike placed his weight on both his knees and pulled his upper body away from Buffy a bit. Wanting to deepen the angle, Buffy lifted both her legs and placed them in front of his shoulders. Spike gritted his teeth to keep from losing it entirely right then and there. He frantically began to thrust into her, using his legs and one arm as leverage. He brought his left thumb to rub roughly against her clit. Buffy began panting and moaning loudly, “Yes, oh yes! Right there, baby. Give it me good!”


Spike just clenched his jaw, his lips twisted in a snarl of feral intensity when he heard his own words come flying back at him. He knew he was in her blood and her brain when he heard that. His cock began to swell even more, indicating his eminent release. He kept slamming his hips against her, feeling her walls start to quiver, feeling his balls slap against her upturned ass. “Buffy, luv, I’m so close…” he ground out between thrusts.


Soon, Buffy felt her orgasm overtake her, and Spike quickly followed her release as a roar of pleasure escaped his throat. After she caught her breath, she removed her legs from over his shoulders, and lay still underneath him. Spike slowed his unnecessary breathing, and supported his weight on his forearms, elbows and knees as he pressed his forehead to hers. “You were amazing, luv,” he panted.


Without another word, he withdrew from Buffy’s heated body, and got the key to the handcuffs from the table. He released her from the silver shackles, and Buffy slowly sat up on the bed, rubbing at her wrists a little. “That was more fun than I thought it would be—the, um, handcuffs, I mean.” Spike smirked at her bumbling admission.


He rose and put on just his black denim pants, and he handed Buffy her shirt. She took it from his hands with a puzzled little look on her face. Wasn’t it Spike who always wanted her to stay longer? Now he was rushing her out the door—Talk about your ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am!’ She pulled her shirt over her head sulkily, but she couldn’t quiet the little huff of air she let escape as she did so.


When she refocused on Spike, she saw he had moved across the room and was pulling out a small, white box from behind the bar. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, but sat down in front of her while his hands kept fiddling with the box. She thought he looked almost nervous.


“Now, this isn’t much, Slayer,” he started, “but I know that your birthday’s around the corner. Thought this little bobble might brighten your special day. Figured I wouldn’t be there to help you celebrate, and since you’re used to having your cake and eating it, too, cheers!” At that, he risked a glance at her eyes and extended the plain, unwrapped box to Buffy.


Buffy knew his words, while true, were just his bravado trying to cover up for what she was now sure was uneasiness. She took the box from his extended hand, and opened it. She was stunned, to say the least. Of course, she figured it was jewelry of some kind, but she thought it would be like the silver skull ring she wore while she was engaged to Spike while under Willow’s spell. She pulled the tasteful gold locket and chain from the box and held it up in her hands. “I love it, Spike. Thank you,” she whispered, meekly.


Spike looked relieved that she had liked his gift. He wanted to present the gift to her under perfect circumstances. Course, it figures that anything as twisted as they were involved in would require the mood be set with bloody handcuffs! But at least for this brief moment, when Buffy was really there with him, body and mind, his un-life couldn’t have been better. Spike gave a half-grin at his beautiful golden goddess, and said softly, “Happy birthday, Buffy.”

Fin.

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Aw… Our heroes, happy at last. Well, the big-O tends to do that for ya! Hope you enjoyed as much as I liked writing it. Please give feedback—thanks!