Chapter Fifteen

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She stumbled backwards and hit the sarcophagus with a gasp, feeling the stone digging into her back as Spike pressed her against it. He had one arm locked around her back, the other buried in her hair as he kissed her hungrily, teasing her with tongue and teeth as she sank against him helplessly. It must have been the fight that had him so worked up, she thought as his teeth scraped her lip, drawing a helpless moan from her. There had been something wild in his eyes as he had turned away from the demon’s corpse to face her and the instant they had crossed the threshold of his crypt, he had pulled her to him roughly, almost crushing her in his arms.

She knew that any sensible girl would not be reacting as fervently to the violence of his embrace, his kisses, but she was helpless as he pressed against her, his body all hard lines as hers yielded to him. She had her arms thrown around him, dragging him even closer, returning every kiss with just as much passion, just as much force. He dragged his mouth from hers, leaving her gasping for breath, but his attack didn’t stop as he lowered his mouth to her neck, sucking on it. She knew she was definitely going to have a least one hickey by the morning. He moaned lowly against her, his pelvis grinding against hers and she let out a gasp, fingers clenched in his shoulders now.

“God, Spike!” she gasped breathlessly.

Her words seemed to penetrate the haze of their lust and she felt him retreating, eyes ablaze with hunger when they finally met hers.



For a moment, they were still, her hands gripping the edge of the sarcophagus as her chest heaved with her rapid breathing. Then, his eyes softened and he let out a shaky sigh.

“Jesus, Slayer,” he murmured, his voice husky as one trembling hand raised to brush her hair back behind her ear, “You’re so bloody beautiful. Want you so bad.”

She trembled as his touch drifted lower, skirting down her side, her eyes fluttering closed. She let out a little moan as his hand slipped under her top and rested against her waist, cool against the heat of her skin. He moved closer again and her mouth fell open in a helpless ‘O’ as his mouth ghosted over her ear, her jaw, her neck. His hand, meanwhile, was on a path north and she arched against him as he cupped one breast in his hand. He was gentle now, teasing her with barely-there kisses and skimming caresses and she keened lowly, pushing herself against him.

“Spike.”

“Could take you right now and you wouldn’t stop me, would you?” he murmured, his mouth against her ear, teeth catching the lobe and sending a bolt of pure want through her, “Could take you down to my bed and strip your clothes off and kiss you all over.”

She let out another choked moan, one hand tangling in his hair as her fingernails dug into the leather of his coat.



And then, just like that, he was gone. Her eyes flew open as she let out a startled moan, steadying herself against the sarcophagus.

“Won’t though,” he murmured, eyes boring into her, “Not ‘til you want it.”

“There was want,” she moaned, still trying to get her tingling body to catch up with the loss of his cool mouth and soft touches.

“Oh, m’sure there was,” he answered with a low chuckle, “But I’ll wait ‘til you’ve got a clear head and can decide for yourself.”

She was silent for a long moment, looking at him in bewilderment. Then she shook it off and glared at him.

“You are so evil. I hate you.”

He smirked, eyes swimming over her and taking in every little sign of her body’s reaction to him.

“What’s the matter, love? Got you all worked up?”

She frowned at him now and pushed herself away from the sarcophagus, hating how unsteady her feet were underneath her. She approached him slowly and stopped barely an inch from him, leaning up to place her mouth next to his ear.

“You’re not the only one who can play this game, Spike,” she whispered, delighting in the tremor he could not hide, “Just remember that.”

“Gonna play with me, Slayer?” he murmured, hands trailing down her arms, “I look forward to it.”



She pulled back to meet his bright, hungry gaze and willed herself not to move. Both as stubborn as the other, neither moved for long seconds, a silent battle of wills taking place between them. Later, she couldn’t remember who moved first - and it didn’t seem to matter – but they collided again in a frenzy of rough, passionate kisses, hands grasping at hair and clothes and skin. Her hands tugged at his T-shirt, slipping underneath to find the smooth, hard planes of his back as his hand twisted almost painfully in her hair as he devoured her.

There was none of that softness that had pervaded their encounters before – this was pure, animalistic desire and she was caught up in it. She knew they would have to stop, needed to stop, but she couldn’t seem to stop her treacherous body. He was lifting her off her feet then and her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he stumbled and hit the wall, hands braced either side of her as she clung to him. They parted, both breathless, and she rested her forehead against his, slowly coming down from the heady heights of her lust. She could feel him pressing against her and couldn’t stop herself from wriggling against him but he let out a moan and raised his eyes to hers.

“You know,” he got out, “I’m trying to behave and you’re making it really hard.”

“Oh, I know I’m making something hard,” she whispered, following it with a giggle that suddenly broke the thick heavy cloud of tension. He smiled and coaxed her legs from around his waist, lowering her to the floor.

“Buffy,” he breathed, kissing her softly now, his lips moving tenderly against hers in a brief caress.

“I know,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her tightly, “We really need a chaperone.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“How ‘bout we go spend some time with the Bit?”

She nodded with a smile and finally extracted herself from his arms.