Spike was surprised by Buffy’s oddly gentle manner as they made their way slowly and carefully toward – wherever it was that he was allowing himself to be blindly led by the Slayer. He knew that this was not just a kinky little game to her – she had a specific agenda. She had a point to prove.

*You’re out of your bleedin’ mind,* he told himself for the hundredth time since accepting her little challenge.

Buffy had proven over the past couple months that she knew how to push the envelope sexually as well as anyone he had ever been with. She knew how to make it hurt in ways that sent him into heights of ecstasy with every deliriously pleasurable, exquisitely painful touch.

And now – she was going to be doing her best to push farther than she ever had before.

*Yep – stark raving mad, you are, mate…*

But – if she was trying to make him fail her little test of trust, shouldn’t she be trying harder to scare him? To make him think that she intended to hurt him? How could it possibly suit her purposes to behave the way she was right now – tender and gentle, cautiously leading him, careful not to let him lose his footing, walking beside him patiently with a warm, steadying arm around his waist?

Buffy was never this gentle with him, even when she was *not* trying to prove a point.

It was just bloody scary.

They had long since left the soft grass of the graveyard, and he could now feel hard concrete beneath his feet; if his sense of direction was any good – and he knew that it was excellent – they were headed down a residential street in the general direction of downtown Sunnydale.

It was very late by now, and the streets were deserted, he gathered, from the fact that the only sounds that surrounded them were the usual late night sounds of chirping insects, broken every few minutes by the sound of a single passing car.

Spike was actually finding it difficult to be nervous, based on Buffy’s disarming manner, and he smiled at the thought that had just occurred to him.

“What exactly is your plan, love, if someone should happen to look too closely and notice you leading about a man blindfolded like this, mistake you for some kind of deranged psychopathic serial killer and call the police?”

He could hear the smile in her voice, as she shot back matter-of-factly, “Simple. I’ll just explain that we’re playing an elaborate role-playing sex game in which you are a helpless slave to my every desire, and ask them if we can borrow their handcuffs.”

His voice became softer, though it still held a teasing note, as he pointed out, “You don’t really need the handcuffs for *that* game, love.” The words he did not say were clear, none the less.

He was already a helpless slave to her every desire.

Uncomfortable with his unabashed honesty – hating that way he had of taking something that she had intended to be taken only in a casually sexy way, and turning it into something intimate and tender and much deeper than she was willing to go – Buffy grew tense, her arm stiffening slightly around him.

He did this every time.

*Well, not this time!*

“You’re right,” she said aloud, her voice softening seductively as her hand at his waist slid slowly downward, playing teasingly around the waistband of his jeans, and smiling when she felt *him* tense under the provocative touch.

“I wouldn’t need to borrow any handcuffs. Where I’m taking you…” She leaned in close to his ear, her hand at his waist edging slowly downward and inward to trace the line of his hip, torturously near to his rapidly swelling erection, as she continued in a hushed, suggestive whisper.

“…I’ve already got everything I need to make you my *very*…willing…slave…”

She smiled at the soft gasp of surprise and arousal that left the vampire’s lips as she saw his desire for her visibly increase, and did not bother to suppress her satisfied smirk.

It wasn’t as if he could see it, anyway.

He sounded a bit breathless when he finally recovered enough to reply, but there was a low note of intensity and raw desire in his voice that sent a shiver of anticipation through her at the sound, in spite of her determination to remain in control.

“Already there, pet,” he reminded her in a soft, low voice that was almost a growl with his need for her. “remember?”

Buffy felt an unexpected rush of arousal at his words, and suddenly could not wait to get him to the place that she had specially prepared for this night. She had not forgotten about her plan – to make the vampire face up to his true feelings, and her lack of them, and make him be the one to walk away from this damaging little affair of theirs – but she could not help but be a bit distracted, with him speaking those words in that tone, and…and…

Well, if she was never going to be with him again after tonight – she might as well allow herself to enjoy the evening – right?

“And apparently, somebody likes the idea,” Spike added, his tone suddenly shifting to one of self-satisfaction and playful mockery that was strengthened by that all too familiar little gesture of his tongue between his teeth that never failed to both infuriate and arouse her.

This was no exception.

Impulsively, she turned and captured that teasing mouth in a fierce, passionate kiss. For a brief instant, he drew back in surprise – who was this girl and what had she done with the Slayer? – but that instant was all it took for him to recover and respond to her intense kiss for all he was worth.

Buffy felt her knees weaken and her legs turn to jelly beneath her as Spike’s expert tongue worked its magic in her mouth.

*How does he *do* that?* she wondered with a mixture of awe and frustration. A sudden determination came over her as she struggled to steady herself – determination that he would not win this game.

*He’s not going to,* she answered her own question firmly. *I’m not going to let him…*

Her forefingers hooked through the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward firmly to press his burgeoning erection against her throbbing center through the thin, flirty skirt that she had worn for this occasion, rotating her hips slightly to increase the contact, moaning slightly at the beginnings of the release she needed.

Spike gasped against her lips, and she smiled with satisfaction to feel the shudder that went through him at the intensified sensation – no doubt even more powerful with his major sense of sight taken away. She had read somewhere that being robbed of one sense made all the others that much more intense – so she took the rare opportunity to press her advantage, pushing forward to plunder his mouth in a fiery quest for dominance.

The moment that Spike realized what she was doing, his own resolve came into play, as he pushed forward himself, struggling to regain the upper hand.

But he was at a decided disadvantage, not being able to see where he was going, and Buffy allowed him to push her – just far enough for him to stumble slightly over a rock in his path. When he went off balance, she took the chance to spin them both around, without even thinking about it, placing her hand behind his head to cushion the blow, and pushing him back with surprising gentleness against the trunk of the tree behind him…

…a tree he would have recognized, had he been thinking about it – after all the many hours he had spent beside or behind it, just staring up through her bedroom window and thinking about her, and how badly he wished that things were different, that he could actually be with her.

Now his wish seemed to have come true in some ways.

And in other ways, he wished it never had.

Buffy was decidedly in control at the moment, the fingers of one hand still hooked in his belt loop, holding him close to her, as she slowly, thoroughly kissed him, and he gave in to the intense pleasure of her attentions, gentle and affectionate in a way that he rarely experienced from her. Suddenly, winning no longer seemed so important to him as simply enjoying a gift that he seldom received.

Could anyone blame him if Buffy being soft and tender and caring was something he did not really feel like fighting?

His hands rested at her hips, pulling her urgently closer as she continued to kiss him, her hand behind his head softly but intently massaging the back of his head, as she released her hold on his jeans and slid her hand slowly down between them.

“Oh, God,” he groaned as her fingertips brushed lightly down, and then up again, along the length of his desperately straining erection. “Buffy…”

She smiled against his lips, relishing the effect she had on him, the fact that he wanted her so badly…

…trying not to think about the strange warmth that stole through her at the thought, that had nothing to do with the heat of her arousal, but more with emotions that had been painfully dormant since her resurrection -- or the fact that she wanted him every bit as badly as he clearly wanted her.

“Buffy, love – so hot…need to have you, sweet Buffy…” he murmured soft words of mingled tender affection and torrid desire, that only fanned the flame of need the was slowly building inside her.

His hand mimicked the action of hers only moments before, slipping down between them, edging toward her throbbing, sodden core, and she knew that he meant to return the favor she had just been bestowing on him.

At least – right now, he still thought it was a favor, she corrected in her mind.

And then quickly tried to put *that* thought and all of its implications out of her mind as well.

Her mind flashed back to a night about a month ago, when Spike had met her in just this very spot, outside her house, and had convinced her to forget about her responsibilities and the drudgery of her everyday life for just a few minutes more, and lose herself to the sensations that only he could make her feel.

She knew she was headed for another such moment – which was definitely *not* on her agenda for tonight – if she did not do something, and fast.

She desperately searched for some part of her that was willing to make him stop what he was just beginning to….

*Oh, *God*!*

“Spike,” she whispered, her hand sliding down from behind his head and reaching to join his between them. “Spike…do you remember…”

“Yes,” he interrupted, his voice low and husky with the fresh desire evoked by the memory he had been reliving as well. “God, love, yes!”

Her hand covered his, which had just slipped under her loose, flowy skirt, just moving with it for a moment and relishing the sweet sensation of pleasure that began moving through her at the teasingly gentle caress of his hand.

She knew she had only moments before he would not be so gentle – and all her resolve would be lost.

“You remember,” she continued, her voice thick and throaty as she struggled for words and breath through the waves of pleasure he was expertly building in her. “…how you wanted me…to say your name…out here, so everyone would hear?”

An overwhelming fire of lust consumed him at the words.

Yes. He remembered.

He had wanted so badly to make her admit what they had, that night. He would never have done anything to traumatize the Nibblet, but that night he had almost *wished* that Dawn would catch them – that Buffy would have all her excuses and lies stolen away, and be left with nothing to hide behind.

She had whispered his name when he had asked her to, and he had drawn out her pleasure, withholding just enough until he was sure that she would give in…but the fear in her voice, the desperate determination not to give in to his demand, had finally broken his resolve, and he had yielded to her the pleasure she had desired, settling for his whispered name in broken, desperate tones.

But the sweet affection, the raw desire and need in her voice that she scarcely ever allowed herself to express, had been more than he usually got – and for that moment, it had been enough.

He was distracted from his thoughts as Buffy’s hand gently but firmly closed over his and pulled his hand away from her. He resisted slightly, opening his mouth to protest, wondering why she was making him stop when she was so obviously enjoying it so much.

But she silenced him with a well-timed kiss that also served to weaken his resistance, as her hands clasped his and pushed them back against the tree beside his head, as her knee shifted up slightly, brushing against the underside of his swollen, desperately sensitive member, making him gasp again at the unexpected sensation.

“Bet I could make you say my name,” she moved her lips from his to whisper enticingly in his ear. “Bet I could make you scream it so that every human, demon, and whatever else is here in this whole town would know the truth…”

She placed several soft, playful kisses along the column of his throat, smiling against his skin, wanting him to know that she was teasing when her next words left her lips. “…that William the Bloody…” She paused for a sweet little kiss on his jaw, working her way back up to his lips. “…Slayer of Slayers…” Her lips met his tenderly for a moment, before she drew back and whispered,

“…is *this* Slayer’s bitch.”

The playful, teasingly affectionate tone of her voice softened the blow of the words. It might be the truth, but he knew by her tone that she did not mean it to hurt him, and the bold, possessive words coming from the usually prim, golden Slayer that everyone but him always saw, were an unexpectedly arousing surprise.

“You know it, Baby,” he muttered, leaning forward slightly to hungrily capture her lips again.

She allowed herself to enjoy the strangely tender moment that was so uniquely – well -- *theirs* -- before she drew back to speak again, her knee resuming its subtle but torturously effective movement.

“So…the way I see it,” a little twist and upward push drew a moan of pleasure from the vampire’s throat as she continued calmly, feigning unconcern. “…you’ve only got one choice here. You can scream my name out here – where everyone can hear it…”

The way she spoke the words was seductive and exciting and intensified the feeling of her touch – which was so much more than usual, due to his not being able to see her – and yet not enough. Never enough.

“…or,” she went on, ceasing all movement suddenly to allow him to concentrate on her next words. “in the nice, magically sound-proofed location that I’ve got all set up for us…that’s only about fifty feet away.”

Frustrated, hardly registering her words at first, he thrust his hips slightly forward toward her, wanting her to resume her movements – but then froze, frowning.

“What?” he asked, surprised. “What place?”

“It’s a secret,” she whispered, placing a finger to his lips playfully, moving in to kiss him just at the corner of his mouth, before pulling back slightly to whisper innocently in his ear, “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

A slow smile crept across Spike’s face, and he shook his head in amusement and disbelief. “You really did think of everything, didn’t you, Slayer? You’ve really thought this out.”

“You have *no* idea.”

The dark, seductive tone of her voice sent a thrill of mingled apprehension and desire through him; suddenly, he was both desperate and a bit frightened to find out just what all exactly Buffy *had* thought of.

“Here’s the thing,” she explained quietly and slowly, wanting him to understand completely. “I’ve borrowed a few spells for the night. The place is completely soundproofed. No one outside will be able to hear anything happening inside until I break the spell. It’s also been magically secured. Meaning that I have to invite you in, and once you come in – you can’t leave until I break the spell.”

She was silent for a moment, allowing the impact of those words to sink in, waiting for him to grasp this next piece of control she was challenging him to give up.

“It’s up to you,” she said softly, one hand releasing his wrist to gently stroke through his hair again as she went on. “You can go with me into this perfectly sound-proof, perfectly secured place, where no one else will be all night, except me…and you…”

Her voice had lowered to a suggestive whisper – and suddenly, he could imagine nothing he would like better.

“…that is…if you feel all right about that…being alone with me, and not able to leave…or see what I’m doing…knowing that no one would hear you if you scream…”

The tone that he knew she meant to be scary only came across as sexy, mostly because of the activities they had just been indulging in – which he was anxious to indulge in again – and the fact that it was adorably obvious that she was *trying* to sound scary.

She was so bloody hot when she was trying to be all bad and menacing -- it *was* scary.

His focus was drawn back to the matter at hand by her soft voice, slightly breathless with anticipation as to his answer, as she pressed him.

“Well? What’s your answer? In…or out?”