Never Ever Tell by Lilachigh


Poor Spike Day


“Spike, I know it’s a ridiculous question, but would you like to have sex with me?”

The question hung in the gloomy air of the crypt, did a pirouette, bounced off the walls, made itself a cup of coffee and came back to jump up and down in front of Buffy.

She almost glanced behind her, wondering if some other Slayer had asked Spike that question. But from the look on his face – a sort of shocked bewilderment – she reckoned, yup, it had been her.

“Well?” she snapped. “Jeez, what part of that sentence don’t you understand?”

The vampire almost looked behind him, wondering if some other vampire called Spike was standing there. Then, from the expression on her face – a sort of shocked anger – he reckoned, it had been him the bint was talking to all along.

He couldn’t make his voice work. It seemed to have got stuck somewhere between his throat and his stomach. He thought if he tried to get sounds out, they would squeal or squeak and turn into gibberish.

He also had the oddest feeling that how he replied was, for some reason, incredibly important. Eyes that for over a century had been trained to pick up the smallest signals in an enemy’s body language, now recorded those of the girl in front of him.

All brave bravado on the surface, but her fists were white knuckle clenched, with the thumbs tucked inside, not out. You never, ever, fought that way; if you punched with your thumb inside your fist, it could break the bone. The Slayer knew that. So, the clenched fists were from fear, not aggression. And Buffy Summers didn’t fear him; he might be thick as two short planks most of the time, but he knew she was the bravest female he’d ever met.

So what did she fear? That he would say yes to her amazing question? Or he would say no? Then why ask it?

Okay, he knew he could pull the birds at any time in any place, and he’d never had any complaints about his performance, - Spike gave himself a smug pat on the back - there was no way the Slayer would be interested in trying him out. It wasn’t as if she had any feelings for him. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, of course. She just wasn’t aware yet that the emotions that zinged between them meant anything more than hatred and bloody disgust. One day she might. But that day wasn’t today.

No, there was something decidedly fishy going on. The bait was lovely, but he still sensed a beautiful deadly trap.

“No, thanks.” God, had he really said that? Turned down making love to a girl who made him randy just by standing there?

“What?”

“I said, no thanks, pet. Kind offer and all that, but I’ve got my pride, you know.”

Buffy looked stunned. Spike was turning her down! Oh, that did her self esteem a load of good. “What’s your pride got to do with it?”

Spike jumped up and prowled round the crypt, the tails of his red silk shirt flying. “Oh, don’t think I don’t know what you and your tosser friends talk about behind my back. You feel sorry for me, don’t you? Pity poor Spike Day, is that it? Chipped and useless. Or is it more than that. Has soldier boy discovered that the gizmo in my skull is on some destruct mechanism? Is my soddin’ head going to explode all over Sunnydale tomorrow? That’s it, isn’t it — ? A mercy fuck. I’m going to dust so you decide to give me a little going away present!”

He picked up a chair and sent it smashing into the wall. Buffy leapt backwards. She’d always known Jonathan’s mission was going to be hard, but this was ridiculous. Spike was angry that she’d offered to sleep with him! How arrogant could a vampire be! As if she’d go within touching distance of him if she didn’t have to.

“No, of course your head isn’t going to explode. Well, not that I know about. And if it did, well – I’d be – ”

“Don’t say you’d be sorry, Slayer!” Spike roared. “I don’t bloody well believe you!”

Buffy bit her lip. She was going to fail Jonathan. That was obvious. There was no way she could stay here until morning, even if she kept arguing with him. And the future of the world depended on him not interfering with Jonathan’s plans.

Right, if she couldn’t get him to sleep with her out of lust, perhaps she could reverse things and get him to ‘have the sex’ as Xander would say, out of pity.

She turned away so he couldn‘t see her face. She was used to pretending to be someone she wasn’t. How hard could this be?

“I – I’m sorry you find me so disgusting, Spike,” she said quietly, pleased with the little tremor that she managed to insert in her voice. “I know it’s an odd thing to ask. I expect you’ve heard – I suppose Riley has told everyone our secret – ”

She let a sob escape as she walked towards the crypt door, head bent.

“Wait a sec, Slayer. I never said you were disgusting. Eminently bedable. And what’s with the soldier boy telling people a secret?”

Buffy threw herself down in the chair he’d recently been sitting in. “You don’t have to lie to me, Spike,“ she muttered. “I’m the Slayer. I don‘t expect I’m – well, I suppose I’m not normal like other girls.”


Spike put one booted foot up on the arm of her chair and suddenly there was far too much denim covered thigh only inches from her face. She stared, fascinated, at the little buttons on the fly band. Why didn’t he have a zip? Everyone had zips. Buttons were old-fashioned; it would take you ages to undo all those little –

He leant down towards her. Her hair was a tangled of gold and when she bent forward like that, he could see the delicate white neck where a blue vein pulsed, on and on and

And why the fucking hell was she wearing those slutty red leather trousers. They were so tight; he could see the line of her panties underneath – very small panties –

“Why the hell d’you think you’re not normal, Slayer? Has the big bad soldier boy blotted his incredibly stiff copybook?” His nostrils flared suddenly. There was no mistaking that aroma. Soddin’ hell, something, someone – had aroused little miss pearly knees.

“Oh, is it the words ‘incredibly stiff’ that worry you, pet?” he purred and, without meaning to, reached out to stroke his hand down the full length of her hair. “Doesn’t the wanker have one like that? What’s the matter, Slayer, is his short and wobbly, then? All that muscle but not much where it’s needed, eh? And, if I’m not very much mistaken, you need one very badly, don’t you?”

Buffy pushed herself back in her chair. She was getting the reaction she wanted from him, now he thought she was vulnerable. It was amazing how easy it was to get a guy – even a dead one – to do things for you if they felt they were in charge of the situation.

‘And the Oscar for creativity in a tight spot goes to Miss Cordelia Chase,’ she thought and wriggled in the chair, suddenly aware that her body was betraying her.

Which was OK, because all right, she’d been having issues with Riley over the Faith in her Body situation, and no sex now for some time and -
Buffy could feel her breath getting shorter. This was ridiculous. Spike was talking dirty to her and she was letting him. Not that it was affecting her, of course. The achey itch between her legs was caused by the tight leather trousers she was wearing. And she was still in total charge of the situation, which was going exactly the way she’d wanted which was why, oh God, in one movement that was too swift to stop, he’d picked up from the chair and lain her down on top of a great stone chest.

“So – tell me why you’re not normal, Slayer,” Spike hissed angrily, hating to see the expression of self-doubt in her eyes.

Buffy tried to remember the part she was playing, but the words and actions were vanishing from her brain. He was kneeling astride her and his fly was now inches from her mouth. Her eyes widened as she looked at the straining material. She wasn’t going to do this! Not even for Jonathan – not even to help defeat Adam, because this was Spike and she hated him and it was someone else’s fingers that had ripped his jeans open so violently that the buttons had flown off, releasing a long, hard shaft of flesh.

She groaned because his voice was still there, whispering dirty words, sexy and loving words, words she didn’t even understand. She knew it was wrong, very wrong to compare two pricks, because nice girls didn’t do that, but, oh god!

And she wondered suddenly if Faith had compared Riley’s to any of the many others she’d known?

Perhaps Faith had done things in bed that pleased Riley. Perhaps she’d whispered dirty words to him while they were making love. Had those words made him hot? Made his cock bigger? Had he made Faith come? Made her scream? Because if he had – and this Buffy now realised at last was behind all her anger - surely at that moment he would have realised that the girl beneath him wasn’t really Buffy?

“Tell me, Slayer,” Spike murmured. Somehow his shirt and T had vanished and his cold smooth skin was pressing against her chest. When had her top come off? Where was her bra? His fingers were rolling her nipples between hard pads and she tried desperately to think of Jonathan and his mission and be in control because -

Because every time she had Riley had had sex, she’d faked it! Oh yes, she was such a good little actress. He thought she came whenever he did. She couldn’t come for Riley! And that was why he should have known the body he was shagging wasn’t her; because she was damn sure Faith had had a proper orgasm and reacted in a different way. And now if they made love, he would know Buffy was acting.

Spike slid her trousers down her legs, still expecting the trap to shut around him. But if anything, the silly bint was cooperating, lifting her bum and wriggling to help give him a full view of herself. He heard a deep moan and realised it was coming from him. He stared down at her flat tanned tummy, the swell of her mound covered with blond curls, darkened with moisture that was driving his cock wild.

He hesitated. He knew if he once bent his head and dropped his mouth into that luscious nest, he would be lost forever.

“Tell me, Buffy,” he said, running his tongue up between her breasts. “Why are you doing this? Who said you weren’t normal? Soldier boy? Parker Wanker? Don‘t tell me it was Peaches, because I haven’t got the dosh to go to L.A. to stake him!”

Blue eyes burnt into green. She floundered through her mind, hunting for words, for reasons – saving the world – Jonathan told me to – sorry for you – and knew that they were all rubbish.

If she was being honest with herself, she’d leapt at the chance to have sex with Spike tonight. Jonathan’s mission had been too good to be true. Because her nervous system still remembered a dark night outside Giles’ house, when she was magically engaged to the vampire. She’d told herself she’d forgotten those sensations he caused inside her, but knew she lied.

“No one said it,” she gasped as he ran his hand down the inside of her thigh and then back up again, his fingers just grazing where the hair was being pushed upwards by swollen flesh. “I can’t come for Riley!”

There, she’d said it and she was probably going to be damned and go to Hell. She screwed her eyes shut, waiting to hear Spike laugh. But when she opened them, he was only smiling down at her, his eyes full of mischief.

“Can’t see that that’s abnormal, pet,” he said softly, his hands returning to her breasts. “Bloody normal, if you ask me. Can’t imagine any girl coming for that tosser. Must be like having sex by numbers. One drop trousers, two kiss, three insert prick, four rock up and down, five come, six say “was that all right for you?”

He dropped a row of butterfly kisses down her stomach and then looked up at her, along the length of her body. “So you want me to experiment with?”

“Well, I can hardly go to Xander,” Buffy replied, trying not to gasp. “I just want to make sure that I’m – ”

“In full working order?” Spike grinned and lowered his tongue onto her clit. He didn’t believe a word she was saying. Oh, the bit about Finn was probably true, but there was another reason, one she was keeping secret.

But the smell of her juices was so overpowering that his brain had stopped functioning a long time back and he no longer cared if she was setting a trap, or what plan she thought she was implementing.

He wanted her – now. She was so wet, so swollen and as his lapping tongue sent the first spasms through the walls of her hot tight pussy, he knew no one had done that to her since –

And memories of a dark night in Giles’s yard cascaded into his brain as her hands tightened painfully into his hair, holding his face in place.

Buffy was gasping as her first orgasm dwindled. She refused to let Spike move. He didn’t need to breathe, but she needed – oh god, she so needed him to do that again.

She stretched her legs apart, giving him room to move enthusiastically and this time his finger joined his tongue and he was glad the walls of the crypt were so thick as she began to scream.

She shuddered violently as the red waves of pleasure subsided a little.

“For someone who can’t come, you’re giving a pretty good impression, Slayer,” he muttered thickly.

She reached down to touch him, but he shook his head and held her hands away from him. “Oh no, pet. You wanted to come, well, first you have to do the journey.“

“What - OH!” Buffy gasped as with one thrust, the whole hard length of him pierced her. She felt her eyes flash open wide – there was no way she could take so much, so was too small, he was too big, oh but her body did remember him, knew how to take him, and now he was thrusting, hard and deep and with every thrust the tip of his prick touched something deep inside her and a shock wave of feeling flooded her body.

She wrapped her legs tight around his waist and drummed on his back with her heels at every thrust. He was cursing now, violent words mixed with loving ones. He’d slipped into game face and from somewhere she heard a girl‘s voice shouting “Harder! Harder!” She wanted to scream but had no breath because, oh god, no, this couldn’t happen! It was!

The pressure began to build inside her until with one final fuck he sent her screaming into the abyss, as he jetted into her, growling and pounding her into oblivion.

The eastern sky was a pale pink, showing where the sun would soon rise, when Buffy let herself out of the crypt. She closed the door on a naked, sleeping vampire and stood, legs trembling, taking in deep breaths of the fresh morning air. She felt sore and bruised, the leather of her trousers rubbing in just the wrong place. She’d kept Spike ‘diverted’ for at least five hours and it was unlikely he would even move before midday.

So, mission accomplished, she thought, trying to find some morning justification for what had happened. “Jonathan will be pleased. That’s the most important thing.”

She hoped he’d managed to work his magic, hoped they’d saved the world. He was so marvellous, so – Jonathan. And as she walked home, she forced herself to think about Jonathan and his many skills – anything rather than think about what she and Spike had just done to each other.

And she found herself wondering just how Jonathan could be so good at so many things?

Wondering…


To be continued