Chapter 17: Fantasies

The Slayer was artfully arranged on the mattress wearing just her bra and panties as he stalked seductively up the bed. A passionate kiss, followed by her sigh as he moved to tongue her nipples through the lace of her bra. Then, oh so slowly, expose her creamy breasts so he could watch her twin peaks as they puckered and hardened at his touch. She’d make that cute little mew as his hands and lips moved down towards her lace covered mound, and repeat the process until Buffy’s thong was thoroughly soaked, before he’d slowly peel the useless garment from her naked hips.

“You do know this is still really disgusting, don’t you?” Buffy’s voice carried clearly through the closed bathroom door, completely destroying the image he was trying to build up in his mind.

Spike cursed again, leaning against the solid wood that separated him from the object of his desire. Still, he knew he had only himself to blame. How had he allowed her to maneuver him into such a degrading position? Oh yeah, he’d been all noble allowed her free will to decide.

“Stupid, stupid, bloody buggering fuck!” he cursed as he inched down the zipper of his too tight pants to allow his aching cock to fall into his own two hands. “This makes no sense. No fun this way at all,” he grumbled, trying to imagine this the way he’d hoped it would be.

Where was he again? Oh, yes, the barely clad Slayer waiting for him to join her on the bed, as he leisurely stroked her passion ever higher. He’d make her beg for it, after all she had put him through. He’d show her what it was that she wanted, in as many ways as he could imagine, so that she’d never be able to deny it again. Before he’d enter that hot tight quim, she’d be screaming his name…

“Spike,” it was his name, but spoken in annoyance, instead of the passion of his fantasy. “Hurry up in there. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this…”

At the sound of her voice his fantasy shifted. He needed to picture something a little closer to the truth. He imagined the Slayer the way she had been backstage. A gloriously naked Slayer holding Spike hostage with her own leash as she told him exactly what to do and how to do it. He’d willingly do anything and everything she asked. Endure whatever she put him through if only he got his eventual reward - the feel of her naked skin as he pounded into her until she was the one crying for mercy.

“I don’t know why I even agreed to this…” Buffy groused, and his fantasy shattered once more, then shifted again, as he imagined his eventual release from the purgatory of this bathroom. His hand pumped faster as he pictured himself slathering the Slayer’s body with his cum. Marking her with his scent. All the places he would put it on her – every demon present would know that she was HIS.

With that thought he came unexpectedly, shooting his hand, his stomach and the walls with his spunk.

“Bollocks! Where’s the bloody stupid cup? Damned stupid way to go about things.”

He continued cursing as he tried to collect as much of his cum as he could into the plastic cup. “Have to start all over again,” he muttered. Thank god for his vampire constitution.

All it took was a second to recall his mind’s picture of Buffy naked and writhing on the bed again – his hands touching her in previously forbidden places. Moaning, he pictured his hand gliding over her silky skin – spreading his essence all over places she would normally never let him touch. Sliding his cum splattered hand over her clit and into her cunt. He knew the Slayer would enjoy his touch, despite her protests. He imagined her skin soaked with sweat and her body writhing in pleasure as she spasmed under his hands.

Stroking himself to firmness again, he-

“Aren’t you done in there yet?” This time Buffy’s irritated voice sounded strident in his ears. “Just open up the door a crack and hand out the cup. You stay in there until I’m done.”

“Slayer,” Spike grumbled. “Do you have to ruin ALL my fun?” This was not going at all the way he had imagined it.

“Just hurry up and hand it out here.”

“You won’t know where to put it,” he protested. He wanted to be the one to anoint the Slayer with his spunk. Even if it was just on her hand, her neck…

“Spike, much as it may shock you to hear this – I do know where it goes.”

As a groan came unbidden to his lips, he suddenly realized that he was enjoying this. The banter. Even her complaints. He always had.

And the Slayer knew what was going on behind closed doors. If she wanted to pretend that she was unaffected by it, well, he knew better. The little hypocrite was probably trying to sneak a peak through the keyhole. Grinning as he stroked himself harder, he decided to make the most of it since it seemed this was as much as he was likely to get. Perhaps if he could provoke a reaction he could use …

He had just the idea. He was sure to get a good reaction out of her from this statement. “Pet, don’t forget, you’ll need to swallow some.”

Her reaction was immediate and more than sufficient for his purposes.

“Ewww. That is SO gross. There is no way, mister. You can just forget it.”

Grinning as she continued to curse a blue streak, Spike finally let himself go. This time he remembered to use the cup.

Buffy was so adorable. She was still going on about it as Spike did up his trousers and exited the bathroom, cup in hand. “Shhh.” He said, patting her lips gently. Mission accomplished! “We’re supposed to be all covert here- all this bickering and arguing is not what they’re supposed to be hearing.”

“Spike, did you forget Willow soundproofed the room?” Buffy was momentarily distracted until he passed over the bathroom cup, overflowing with his jizz, and took in his wicked grin. “Shit! It was on your hand. The hand you just used to … to… and of course you didn’t bother to wash up. Bastard.”

Spike just shrugged and grinned wider, wiggling his fingers in front of her face. “Got the job done, didn’t it? Now, if you’ll just let me help you with the rest of this…”

“You’ve already done more than enough. It’s back into the bathroom with you. You are SO not watching... Better yet, I’ll go in the bathroom so I can lock the door.”

She SO did not want any part of this to seem even vaguely romantic. What had she been thinking downstairs? Or even upstairs in their room, just a few minutes ago? Obviously, she hadn’t been thinking at all. She wondered what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted in the props room… or even just a few moments ago, if Spike hadn’t been so gross about the smelling thing…would she really have let him…

She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about what she was doing now. It was just like perfume, she convinced herself. Not some icky, disgusting, slimy, man-juice. Perfume. She finished quickly, and made sure to wash her hands.

As she exited the bathroom, she could tell Spike was amused. He was enjoying this, and it annoyed her to no end.

“Feel good to have clean hands, Slayer?” he leered. Gods, he was a pig. What did she ever see in him?

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A/N: I said this was my favorite chapter, but then I have a twisted sense of humor. You all may enjoy some of what comes later even better.