The shiver that went down Spike’s spine in that moment had less to do with the cool metal against his room-temperature skin than with the enticing suggestion in the Slayer’s softly spoken words. She waited silently for his answer, her arm resting across his shoulder, the cuffs swinging slowly from her hand, brushing against his already highly sensitized skin – as he weighed the decision.

He had been with other women before – but never had he been with anyone who could rival the passion, the fire, the raw reckless need, of his gorgeous golden Slayer. The idea of yielding himself to her so completely – deliberately placing full control in her hands, and allowing her to quite literally have her way with him was a thrilling thought – but also frightening.

His instincts recognized what his heart, his body, wanted to deny – that submitting himself to the Slayer in this way was reckless, dangerous, and potentially deadly. His demon roared his protest at the idea of such submission, placing himself at the mercy of his mortal enemy.

Of course, he reminded himself quickly, it wasn’t as if he would be in any *real* danger. After all, if the handcuffs in her hands were his own, or anything like them, they were a cheap, lingerie shop toy – no match for his vampire strength, easily broken if he wanted to – as easily as Buffy could have broken them the night before, if she would only have yielded to him then.

Not to mention the fact that Buffy would never actually hurt him.

Would she?

His thoughts were interrupted by her quiet, calm voice, still carrying a note of hushed seduction, as she went on softly, “Now, before you make up your mind – there’s something you should know.” She paused, and he waited breathlessly, as her empty hand slowly ran up and down his chest, in soft, feather-light caresses that only fanned the raging flame of his need.

“These handcuffs are enchanted,” she informed him, her hands stilling for a moment when she felt him tense in surprise – or fear? – at her words.

Realizing that she had sensed his reaction, he deliberately relaxed his shoulders, taking a deep breath or two to steady himself, as she went on, “They won’t break like ordinary handcuffs, no matter how strong the person wearing them is. They will only open when the person who puts them on you…” She paused, leaning in to whisper, so near that her lips brushed his ear, “…and that would be me, Baby…” She drew back slightly to continue, “…takes them off.”

Moving back, raising her voice again to a normal level, but still with a dark, sultry note to it that sent a fresh shiver of mingled desire and apprehension down his spine, she finished, “So once you put them on – you’re mine, Spike – until *I* decide to let you go…”

His stomach dropped, and his throbbing member jumped slightly, in his reaction to her words. So the Slayer was raising the stakes a bit, was she – so to speak? He quickly reconsidered, his mind racing with the possibilities that this new bit of information raised.

It made no difference, he told himself. He trusted her. So what if the power she would be wielding over him would be just a bit more real than he had originally thought.

But, unbidden, darker thoughts came to his mind. How many times had Buffy threatened to stake him? How many times had she told him that she should have done it a long time ago, or told him that she wished he was out of her life for good?

Was it possible that she might use this little game to accomplish that desire? She wouldn’t do something like that to him – would she?

*No,* he reassured himself firmly. *She wouldn’t.*

Because in spite of the fact that she despised him, looked down on him as the thing beneath her that he was – despite the fact that she did not want to want him…

She *did* want him. More than that, she needed him. He was the only one she had been able to turn to in the past few painful months. She could not destroy her one source of comfort in the darkness that her world had descended into.

She *loved* him…he knew it. Even if she did not know it yet. But she would – eventually. That was what he kept telling himself, what he kept insisting in the quiet, dark moments when she had left him alone, like she always did in the end. Through the tears that streaked his face in those times, he would tell himself over and over that she *did* love him – she did – and in time, she would come to see it.

But the question of the moment was – just how determined was she to prove to herself that she did *not* love him?

And in the next moment, his decision was made.

It was simple, really.

He had a choice – to yield himself to whatever she had planned for him for this evening, to give himself to her and place his pleasure, his well-being, his very life in her hands for her to do with it what she would…

Or to refuse – and give her the justification that she was seeking, the excuse to deny that there was any beauty or goodness to what they shared, and walk away and leave him forever.

It was a simple choice, really.

Did he trust her -- *really* trust her – not to take advantage of this power she was asking him to give her, and use it to destroy him?

It didn’t really matter.

He would rather be dust at her hand than to spend the rest of his unlife without her.

“ ‘M already all yours, pet,” he replied quietly at last. “You know that.”

The poignant emotion in his soft voice smote Buffy’s heart with a fresh pang of guilt. For using him for all these months, when she knew that his feelings went so much deeper than hers – for treating those feelings so callously at times, even if she did not share them…

For what she was about to do…

“Just checking,” Buffy replied, her tone forcedly light. “I mean – this is quite a risk you’re taking…I just wanna be sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. For any vampire to place himself at the mercy of a Slayer – well – that’s pretty dangerous…”

“Not this vampire, not this Slayer,” he replied with a confidence that sounded convincing, whether he felt it or not. “I trust you, Buffy. I told you already.” He paused, before adding with a smirk, “Several times. Are you trying to convince *yourself* I don’t mean it? Cause you’re soddin’ well not gonna convince *me*!”

Her hand on his chest stilled for a moment, and he knew that somehow he had struck a nerve with his words. Then an instant later, her hand was back in motion, sliding down his chest, and further, resting for a moment on his hip before sliding inward.

He gasped, his back arching slightly as she leaned in close again, her voice soft as she replied, “Not trying to convince anyone of anything, Baby…just wanna be sure you know what you’re doing…” As she spoke, her hand came to rest a bare inch above the base of his erection, and her thumb moved slowly in a rotating gesture that sent a new flood of sensation coursing through his body.

“Bloody hell, Slayer!” he gasped, his head falling back slightly, overwhelmed with his desire. “If you think I’m backing out *now*, you’re out of your bleedin’ mind!”

The soft, throaty chuckle that left the Slayer’s lips then sent a little shiver of desire and apprehension down his spine with the realization – she had him right where she wanted him, and she knew it.

He was hers.

“No,” she agreed quietly, her hand rising from where it lay low on his abdomen, and moving to clasp his wrist in a gentle but firm grip. “You’re not.” She paused for a moment, lowering her hand from his shoulder and bringing both of his wrists behind his back. “Not now,” she added, locking them into the cuffs.

He felt a sense of mingled apprehension and expectancy at the metallic click of the cuffs around his wrists, and instinctively tested their strength. The Slayer was not bluffing; the weak metal that should have broken under his vampire strength was unyielding.

Suddenly, he felt Buffy’s soft, warm hand come to rest on his, twisting slightly in the cuffs, still searching for a weakness in them without even realizing he was doing it -- and he froze, waiting to see what she would do next. The Slayer’s hand moved from his, and then he felt her hands on his shoulders, moving down his arms, leaning in and pulling him closer to her at the same time.

“So tense,” she murmured softly, before her lips fell on his throat in a tender kiss – but he could feel the little smile on them just before she spoke again in a whisper. “Scared?”

He shook his head. “No,” he replied immediately. “Not of you. I trust you, Buffy.” He paused for a moment, considering before speaking his next words, a slow smirk coming over his own face with a flash of insight. “But I’m beginning to think that *you* might be.”

He felt her completely freeze behind him, and knew that he had hit on the truth. “What?” she whispered, and he could hear a subtle note of defensive anger in her voice.

“Why are you trying so hard to get me to back out, Buffy?” he asked her, smiling openly now, a teasing note to his voice. “Way I see it, you’ve got me right where you bloody want me. Problem is – maybe you don’t know what to do with me!”

He could almost hear the Slayer’s jaw drop at his bold audacity in the face of his situation. “Yes, I – I most certainly…” she sputtered defensively, only confirming the suspicions he had stated.

He laughed, knowing as he did that he was only further incensing her. “Right…that’s why you’re dragging it out so, right, love?”

“I’m not dragging…I…ooh!” the Slayer nearly growled with the frustration that he prided himself in knowing only *he* could bring out in her. He could picture her struggling to regain her composure – and then he could picture the forced smile on her face, as she fought to stay calm and in control, as she stopped touching him and moved around to stand in front of him.

“I don’t know what to do with you, huh?” she echoed, her voice trembling slightly, though much calmer now, and he could almost hear the tight smile, see the furious flames in her defiant green eyes. “Looks like I’m gonna have to try to figure it out then, aren’t I?”

That dangerously seductive note was back in her voice, and he felt a stirring within him, driving his desire higher. Still, he kept his expression mildly mocking as he agreed, “Looks like, don’t it, love?”

He loved being able to get the better of her, even when she should have been in complete…

“Bloody hell!” he gasped, his thoughts forcefully scattered as he felt a small, hot hand fist around the base of his erection, pulling him firmly closer to her, and a bit off balance, without the use of his hands to catch himself.

Her thumb rested beneath his member, at the very base, and began to rub in a slow, intense circle that made him draw in a sharp, shuddering breath, his knees buckling slightly beneath him. Quickly Buffy caught his arm, holding him up, keeping him from collapsing on the floor right there.

She leaned in close to him, her hand still wrapped around him, too tightly to be comfortable, but not tightly enough to be painful, as she whispered in a tone of amusement and triumph, “How’m I doing? Getting warm yet?”

“God!” he gasped. “Buffy!” He was gasping for breath, incapable of any other speech by this point.

And she had been touching him for all of five seconds.

“Come on,” she ordered brightly, suddenly ending the work her hand was doing for the moment, with a startlingly sharp tug on his manhood in the general direction that she wanted him to go – toward the bed, though he had no way of knowing that.

Through the powerful sensations she was causing him – he didn’t really know much of anything at the moment.

“Bloody hell, woman, what are you *doing*?” he moaned, stepping quickly in the direction she had pulled him, alarmed at the momentary sharp sensation.

But she quickly released her hold on his erection the moment he started in the direction she was leading – not even she was *that* cruel – opting to lead him by the arm instead, and giving him a much needed break from the intense touching that was swiftly reducing him to a babbling, desperate wreck.

“I’m not really sure,” she replied with a shrug, her tone teasing and self-satisfied. “Figuring it out as I go along, I guess.” She stopped him when they reached the bed, turning him around to face her, so that his back was to the bed, leaning in close to his ear, her hand playing affectionately through his hair as she whispered the confiding question, “How am I doing so far?”

He could not even form a response, still trying to catch his breath.

Buffy, however, seemed satisfied. She nodded as she said, “Good. I think that’s enough of a warm up.” He could not see it through the blindfold, but her emerald eyes held a wicked shimmer as she gently took his shoulders and pushed him down to sit on the bed, pushing him back a little before straddling his lap, drawing another gasp from the vampire’s lips at the feeling of her heat so very close to his throbbing need.

Smiling, Buffy leaned in to kiss him again, her lips, her tongue, tenderly caressing his trembling, gasping mouth, before pulling back to murmur softly, “Let’s get this party started, Baby.”