SUMMER NIGHTS

CHAPTER THREE

Just wanted to thank everybody for reading. This was just a little ficlet - and this is the last chapter. Hope you like it!



Buffy thought she'd never feel anything as wonderful as when Spike thrust his fingers inside her; she was wrong. His tongue lapping at her juices, swirling around her clit , was pure molten heaven. His firm hands were burning fingerprints into the flesh on her hips; she would be marked for days.




Maybe for a lifetime.




Buffy's hips were bucking off the bed, her body taking over and seeking what it needed to ease the building pressure. Spike chuckled even as he nibbled on her clit and she went stiff as another orgasm rocketed through her. She'd read about 'seeing stars' but hadn't actually thought it was literally meant. She'd seen not only stars, but huge flaring comets.




Maybe it was because he was evil? Or maybe it was because he was so damn sexy.




She gave up trying to figure it out and just gave herself over to absolute pleasure. Spike was moving up her body now, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. It was disgusting and at the same time highly erotic. Buffy sat up to grab hold of his head and drag his face down to meet her. The taste of herself on his tongue sent her fluttering off into happy land again, so naughty and nasty and totally wicked. She'd never have guessed she had this wild slut inside her, but she was sure going to go with it now that she had.




Spike's knees nudged her legs wider, his cock sliding along her slick cleft. It was taking immense self-control not to just force his way in, but this side of the Slayer was intriguing him. Little Miss Prissy was a hellcat in bed and he was having too good a time to end it all too soon. When Buffy bit down on his lip and sucked the wounded flesh inside her mouth though, he gave up with the self-imposed restraint and thrust inside her to the hilt. Buffy bit down harder, Spike tasting his own blood mingled with her saliva and it was driving him crazy.




He could feel the change to vamp face coming on, and with his energies focused on other things – hot, wet, tight things – he couldn't stop it. A descending fang skewered Buffy's lip, her gasp of pain releasing his lip from between her teeth. Their mingled blood slid down each other's throats, one of them more appreciative of the bitter, coppery taste than the other, but both of them eager for more contact. Spike moved his hips in a slow, rolling rhythm, Buffy arching her back to meet him with her legs wrapped firmly around him, pulling him closer. Her nails scored tracks down his back, beads of blood joining others to run across his pale skin. He was overdosing on sensation; in all his years, all his conquests, the dark demands of Drusilla – he'd never felt anything like this.




It was like they were made from the same piece of flesh, they fit together so well. And the way she moved...




Maybe it was because she was the Slayer? Or maybe it was because she was so damn sexy.




Whatever it was, he wanted it in spades. Buffy was running her tongue across his teeth, lingering over his fangs. He was at boiling point, desperately trying to stave off ejaculation until she'd screamed his name. But that little thing she was doing with her hands on his butt was making it harder and harder and harder...




“Oh my god! Spike...oh god...don't stop...”




Buffy's legs around his back locked him in place, her grasp merciless, her fingernails digging into his ass cheeks. She ground her pussy against him, internal muscles gripping and releasing him as she came. In her ecstasy, she arched fully, her head thrown back revealing her soft, white throat with the pulse racing just beneath the skin. His name was a breathy moan falling from her lips.




Spike roared his pleasure as he orgasmed , the roar ending when his fangs buried in her throat and he drank great gulps of Slayer blood. Every nerve ending was tingling with life as the precious fluid flooded his system.




Buffy was writhing beneath him again, and it took him a while to notice that she was beating at his shoulders with both her hands. It brought him back to himself; he moved away, licking at the puncture holes and wondering how long he had until she dusted him.




She'd okayed the sex, even if only by her actions, but there was no way the Slayer would be letting him off for the biting.




One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Up to seven and he was still in possession of a non-dusty body. The vamp face slid away; wouldn't do to remind her of the fact that he was the one in possession of the sharp teeth.




Spike swallowed hard, before cursing himself for being a sorry prick and lifted his head up to look at the Slayer.




“You bit me!”




“Yeah, what of it. Vampire, remember?”




“But...you bit me!”




“Jeez , Slayer. Get over it. It's kinda linked for my kind, the biting and the sex. It's no big, don't go on so. You're not hurt are you?”




Buffy considered. She'd been all trembly and orgasm-girl when she'd felt the sting of his fangs pushing into her flesh; she couldn't lie – the first sweep of his tongue as he pulled her blood into his throat had her coming again, but as she'd settled back to earth she'd realised what was going on and panicked. She was the Slayer, and a vampire was feasting on her throat.




God, it had felt so good.




No, she wasn't hurt, but she sure as hell was damned forever. She shoved herself backwards until her back hit the headboard, gripping the sheets about her in pointless modesty. Her eyes, of their own volition, swept over Spike as he lounged naked on the bed, resting on one arm, his other tugging at his ungelled curls. Sex-tousled hair and come-to-bed eyes coupled with sculpted abs had her pulse racing again and she couldn't help the tiny gasp that escaped her lips.




Spike smirked; he noted where her eyes were going and shifted one leg so that she got the full effect of his burgeoning erection, the smirk turning to a grin when she licked her lips unconsciously. He no longer felt in danger of being dusted, but he sure as hell might combust from the heat of her caress. Moving soundlessly, he prowled up the bed like a panther, his weight dipping the mattress and dragging the light cover out of Buffy's suddenly limp hands.




Her breasts were uncovered as the sheet fell softly against her midriff, her nipples stiffening in the knowledge that his talented mouth was drawing near. With a speed that had her jumping back, Spike ripped the sheet away totally leaving her open to his gaze.




“Beautiful...” he murmured, his eyes roaming over her from head to toe and calling forth a blush. “Hey, now. Don't be shy. I know what kind of girl you really are.”




Buffy opened her mouth to snark at him. But he was right, he did. She was a sex-crazed slut, desperate for his touch. She was definitely going to burn in hell. And she didn't care.




She whimpered, biting down on her tongue to stop herself from begging him to touch her. She still had her pride, but it was disappearing fast. He was nuzzling at her neck, his tongue snaking out every now and then to lick along her skin and flick at her earlobe. Buffy's whole body was in sensual overload, every inch of it electrified by his touch. He nipped at her neck with blunt teeth and she moaned, even though she tried to stem the sound by biting her own hand.




“Slayer...” Kiss. “Tell me...” Nip. “...you don't love...” Lick. “...my teeth...” Suck. “ ...at your...” Bite. “...throat.”




Buffy struggled to speak, but found herself answering him. “I...I...ohhh , please...”




Spike bit down hard, gratified by the way she arched her body against him. “Please stop?” he whispered against her ear.




“Noooo ! Don't stop! Please...”




“Promise me I won't wake up dusty, and I'll give you what you crave, Slayer.”




“Anything! I promise...I won't dust you. Just...please... ”




Buffy heard herself reply, but was powerless to stop the words. Her slut!self had hijacked her brain, it appeared, and she was Spike's to do with what he would. She recalled that she wanted to kill him; at the very least she wanted to maim him. Wound him then; insult him? Oh god, she just wanted to kiss him until the world ended...god help her.




Spike vamped out and struck, his fangs sinking once more into the pliant flesh of the Slayer's throat, the blood popping through the taut skin and bursting on his tongue. The sound of her heartbeat thrummed loud in his ears in perfect time to the pulsing of her blood in his mouth. It was intoxicating and stimulating and he struggled to keep control and stop himself from draining her. He wrenched his fangs from her neck, ripping the flesh slightly in his efforts, his features shifting to human as he looked down on her. Her eyes were closed but fluttering and he worried he'd taken too much.




When Buffy's arm shot out and grabbed him, dragging his lips to hers he let himself relax. She was all good. Well, part bad. And lucky for him.




+ + + +




It was late afternoon when they came to, the sheets wrapped around their legs. Buffy's head was cushioned on Spike's chest, his hand tangled in her hair. She nuzzled him sleepily, blinking to clear her head. She blinked again. No, he was still there. The afternoon's lovemaking came back to her, the blush creeping up her chest and throat and settling on her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, Spike was staring at her.




“Mornin'.”




Buffy dipped her lashes again, suddenly shy. But then she figured after what they'd been up to, shy was next to useless, so she lifted her head and brazened it out.




“Afternoon, or evening. What time is it?”




“Not sure, but from the feeling in my bones I'd figure it for about two hours from sundown.”




“Right, then we'd better move.”




“You got a plan? Cause I've got nothing. Except a sexy smile and tight little body.”




Full on Spike smirk almost had her reaching for him again, but she stopped herself. This short interlude – well, long interlude – was over. They had to focus. She wasn't sure she'd cope with Spike at close quarters for any length of time.




“The plan would involve clothing to start off with.” She was covering her breasts with her hands, raising her eyebrow when Spike failed to turn around.




“Wha'? Think I'm gonna miss the show? And what for? I've seen it all, Slayer. Hell, I've licked most of it.”




Buffy blushed even more, remembering with icy shivers the feel of his tongue rasping against her skin. Damn him! He had to stop doing that...




“Okay, look all you like. You're not gonna touch it ever again anyway. Whatever this was – and I'm going with temporary insanity – it's over. Get dressed.”




“Oooh, bossy little bint aren't you? I like it, the dominatrix tone suits you.”




“Spike! Please...there's a gigantic demon jonesing for our hides. D'you think we could come up with a way to get to it before it gets to us?”




Spike rolled over, flashing Buffy an enticing view of his butt and muscled back that had her drooling and muttering under her breath. Spike grinned as he pulled on his jeans; he'd heard every word. So, he'd 'be the death' of her, would he? Hell yeah, wasn't that the truth. As soon as they'd vanquished their common enemy. No reason why he couldn't kill her then, was there?




+ + + +




They'd waited until sundown then grabbed some snackfoods – human – and some blood – pig – and turned the Desoto round to head back to the cemetery where they'd encountered the demon the night before. Spike was none too happy at his enforced animal diet, but bearing in mind Buffy had refused to even sit in the car if he 'took care of it' himself, he'd caved, figuring that the sooner they got this over and done with the sooner he could fill himself up on Slayer blood. Or at least, in theory...




Buffy cringed as he swigged back the dark red gloop, forcibly wiping the image from her mind. That 's what a vampire was, a bloodsucker – not some sex-god you could go all night with. Well, yeah, you could, but you should never forget their true nature.




“Sorry to offend your sensitive gut, Slayer. Vamp's gotta eat, and I need to keep my strength up after our little – well, big – shagfest.”




“Gah! You make me crazy. Let's just get this over with.”




Spike floored the accelerator, laughing with delight at baiting the Slayer. It was joyful! He'd not had such fun in forever. The girl got to him, somehow, and despite his best efforts and the reminders to himself that she was the Slayer and therefore needed to die a horrible death, he found himself less and less looking forward to being responsible for her cooling body. Gruffly, he asked her about the plan one more time.




“So, your entire carefully thought out strategy consists of 'get it'? Kinda light on plot, don't you think?”




“I'm going with your strengths, Spike. Not big in the brain department are you, so I thought I'd keep it simple.”




Spike growled at her. Arrogant bitch; if she only knew just how educated he really was. “Yeah, what makes you think just going in blind will do the job, Slayer? Didn't see either me or you making much of a dent on the kid, how's it gonna work on the mummy?”




“We didn't go get it together, did we? I was knocked out and you were just tickling it with your weak-ass kicks and punches. I figure if we fight as a team, both at once, we can take it down. I haven't met a demon yet that doesn't fall over on its back for Buffy Summers.”




“So I'd heard...”




“Pig.”




“Yeah, you got it right, Slayer.” Spike drove the car aggressively, whistling tunelessly and setting Buffy's teeth on edge. Just as she drew breath to tell him to stop, the Desoto swerved and Spike screeched “There! Look at the bugger go.”




The enormous beast was lumbering towards the beach area, roaring and drooling from its maw. Screaming tourists were darting left and right out of its path and Buffy barely waited for the car to stop before she was out and off after it. Spike cranked the parking brake and raced after her, catching her up in a few strides. They looked at each other, grinning as the adrenaline of the chase flooded through them, both of them creatures of the hunt. Without speaking, Buffy broke left and Spike right, skidding to a halt in front of the monster.




It stopped, scenting the air, then howled, its arms raised as it recognised its prey. Suddenly Buffy regretted the simplicity of the plan. Maybe a rocket launcher would have been better...




“Slayer!” Spike snarled at her just as he launched himself at the gargantuan demon, pummeling it in its stomach. It hardly moved, just lowered its head to focus on the gnat daring to sting it. Buffy punched it hard on the opposite side of its body, ducking the swinging arm that it brought round in slow motion. As she was going down she continued to dip, kicking between its legs as she lay on the floor. It growled and spat drool that hissed on contact with the floor.




“Corrosive – mind out!” Spike yelled at her, Buffy ducking behind the demon and jumping up to spin kick it on its spine. It yelped, Buffy kicking it again in the same spot. The creature turned its head and snarled right at Buffy, the saliva dripping in strings from its mouth.




“Yeah, ugly! That hurt didn't it? Want some more?”




Spike punched from the front as Buffy concentrated on the tender spot she'd found, swapping when the creature spun this way and that, not slowing much but looking confused at the dual attack.




“Slayer! Looks like the beast's big on body low on brain, kinda like a chicken. How about we cut its head off?”




“With?”gasped Buffy as she continued her kicking and punching.




“I dunno, do I! It's your plan.”




“Okay, you keep it interested – I'll be back in a sec.”




“Oh no, you keep it interested. I'm not playing chew-toy while you skedaddle.”




“Spike – shut up and just do what I say for once.”




Before he could respond, he had to duck a meaty arm and dodge some flying spittle, and by the time he was upright Buffy had hightailed it off into the night. He started dancing round the beast to confuse it, kicking it and punching it in turn, always making sure he got a direct hit on the one weak spot they'd managed to find. One weak spot...right; why bother with the head when its Achilles heel was already looking sore and inflamed. Spike mistimed a hit and found himself skidding along the floor on his back, the creature tottering towards him. Before it got to him, Spike vaulted up and ducked its talons to run behind it and kick it again.




The sound of running feet was music to his ears; he only hoped it was the Slayer running back towards him. It was. She'd managed to find a saw from somewhere, rusty but with wicked teeth, and in her other hand she held an iron railing. That would be his. A spike. He grabbed it from her, weighing it in his hand and grinning like a maniac. Ah, it took him back to his first slaughter in London right after he was turned. Nothing like skewering a victim. Happy times.




Buffy was round the front and him at the back, and Spike barked out orders at the Slayer, expecting her to obey. His tone brooked no disobedience; they were fighting for their lives. “Slayer, you go for the neck, I'll stick it to her in the back; maybe we'll get lucky. On three...one, two...THREE!”




They struck as one, Buffy's saw biting into the neck but lodging in bone after a few strokes; it had the creature off balance though and when Spike forced the railing into the spine and through the stomach, it staggered then dropped to its knees on the floor, clawing behind it to remove the railing. It couldn't reach. Buffy took the opportunity to dislodge the saw and brought it round again to bite into the neck on the other side. Blood was spurting from the wound, yellow as pus. Spike took a running jump and kicked out with both feet to lay the demon flat. It gave out an inhuman squeal, one side of its neck opening up where the saw had bitten in, still clawing at its back. Buffy twisted the railing viciously, the creature howling...and then it was still.




Buffy dropped to her knees panting, noticing the singed sleeves of her shirt where the saliva had spotted her. Yet another item of clothing going to the great laundry basket in the sky. She really should be given a clothing allowance...or a wage, either would do.




Spike stood tall, revelling in the slaughter, eyeing the kill with satisfied eyes. He smirked as he turned to face Buffy, offering his hand to help her up. She took it gratefully, before realising what she'd done. It was too late though, they were touching. Her heat radiated through his fingers and without conscious thought he wrapped her in his arms, looking down on her with stormy eyes. Buffy couldn't look away; her heart beat faster and faster as his lips descended on hers, her fingers finding their way to the soft curls at the nape of his neck as she devoured his mouth.




Buffy pushed him away eventually so that she could drag in a breath, her eyes luminous in the moonlight. Spike stroked her hair away from her face, cupping her chin in one hand while retaining hold of her around her waist.




“Buffy...” his voice was whisper soft and filled with wonder. What the hell was going on? He had to get away from her or he was going to be hers to command; the inner poet knew it and was urging him on. The demon had other ideas of what he wanted for the Slayer. Either way, if he got involved with the Slayer he'd be no better than his sorry excuse for a grandsire. No; it was high time he left and found Dru, got drunk in her dark mystery and bathed in the blood of innocents.




But it was so hard to leave Buffy Summers when she looked so...edible. He toyed with his original plan of eating her...but that wasn't what the demon wanted. The demon wanted to possess her, claim her. He had to get away, what with the poet and the demon both urging him on to the unnatural act.




Spike gazed deep into the Slayer's eyes; Buffy gazed back. She had no idea what was going on right now, but she knew if she stayed there a second longer she'd promise him anything just for one more kiss. And the way he was looking at her, hungrily, longingly...




Abruptly, Spike broke off the connection, dropping her hand and turning away. His voice was gruff when he spoke.




“Gotta go, Slayer, Dru's probably miles away by now. And now that our little truce is over, I'm not anxious to meet the business end of your stake. So, I'll say goodbye. Next time we meet...”




“Yeah, I know – I'll kill you. Same here. But thanks...you know for...” Buffy gestured to the inert body of the demon behind them.




“My pleasure.” He smirked at the pun, but his heart wasn't in it. What had started off as a quick shag just because he could, had ended up with him questioning everything that had happened and just what he would do next time he met the Slayer. He shook his head and stalked off to the Desoto, risking a glance back over his shoulder to where Buffy stood, silhouetted in moonlight, not moving.




“Goddammit, Slayer. Just go...” he muttered under his breath, cursing. When he looked back again, she'd gone, slipped away into the night. He felt the loss like a fluttering in his long dead heart.




Buffy watched from the shadows as the Desoto's brakelights flickered off and on with Spike's erratic driving, the car finally disappearing in a cloud of dust. She doubted she'd ever feel the same again, already missing the sound of his voice and the touch of his skin. And his kisses...Spike lips, lips of Spike. Was there anything more delicious in the whole, wide world?




“Gah! What is wrong with me! Get a grip, Buffy. You were scared, he's a pig – it happened. It won't happen again. Get over it.”




Her voice broke as she spoke out loud. It hadn't been very convincing, and she walked back to the condo with a tear in her eye. God help her, she may very possibly be falling in love with Spike.




She was doomed.




Spike turned on the radio as he sped away, gritting his teeth in an effort to stop thinking about the bloody Slayer. He couldn't get her out of his head, or his heart. Wily little minx had gotten past his defences and was taking over his whole life. He banged his head on the steering wheel in frustration when the next song came on; maybe somebody was trying to tell him something.




“...bu-ut...ohhhhh, those Su-ummer....Niiiii-ghhhhttts”




Oh, yes...those summer nights. He screeched the Desoto to a stop and turned it around. He was damned already, but maybe he could be damned and happy.




THE END