Summary: He wanted her the second he laid eyes on her and now it was finally time for him to make his presence known to her--the only way he knew how.
Author's Notes: Written for Spuffy Fantasy’s 2007 Art-to-Fic, All Human Challenge. Story inspired by banner #4 created by peroxide_dreams.
Warnings: This story will deal with eroticism, bloodplay, hints of dom/sub and biting.
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: This chapter is shorter than the previous ones, but I think you'll understand why once you read it. I do so hope you enjoy where I've gone in this chapter and where Spike and Buffy are about to go with each other next. They are about to embark on the journey I've been dying to get them on since I came up with this plot bunny and I simply cannot wait to share it with you all. *hugs*
Spike could feel Buffy’s eyes following him as he gradually picked up
his scattered clothing off the floor, slowing sliding his legs into his
jeans and carefully zipping them up over his erection before shoving
his arms into the sleeves of his favorite blue shirt, securing the
buttons on the front one by one.
He knew Buffy expected him to immediately respond to her request, to
give her what she wanted, to make her fly, but he couldn’t do that as
properly as he’d like to if they were stuck with the minimal comforts
of his warehouse flat.
He needed more room to pleasure her, more room to tease and tempt her
body to his liking, to make her blood rush within her veins, and though
he wasn’t crazy about the idea of having to bloody drive clear across
town to his real home, he had to admit he’d been thinking of nothing
else but sharing it with her for weeks. Just the idea of finally seeing
her glorious, long blonde locks spread out atop his satin sheets nearly
made his knees buckle and his cock twitch with the need to fulfill the
fantasy, to take her in the bed he’d dreamed of pleasuring her in for
so long.
To be honest, he didn’t quite know why it was so important to take her
home with him. He just knew it was. Having her there, in his home, in
his bed, was as essential to him as the oxygen in his lungs and it
didn’t sodding matter that it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, the
way it had always been in the past. That he wasn’t supposed to crave her. He did, and given the mind-blowing orgasms he’d already experienced with her earlier, he wasn’t going to regret it.
Not tonight, at least.
Shaking his head, he twisted around, quickly searching for his
discarded black boots; he found them haphazardly lying near the foot of
the bed, right next to the black dress he’d watched drop away from
Buffy’s curvy little body.
He craned his neck sideways, meeting her confused, lust-filled gaze in
the mirror, and smiled, winking as he slid a splayed hand down the
center of his chest. “You wantin’ to ask me somethin’, love?” He
deliberately stalled his hand just shy of fully covering his erection
and leisurely tapped one finger against his crotch, stifling a groan as
her reflected gaze lowered toward his zipper and her pink tongue shot
out to wet her lips.
Dangerous territory that. Another sodding minute of it and he’d forgo
his plans to ravish her at home and instead ravish her right here in
front of that bloody mirror.
Frowning, he turned away again and headed for his boots, her tiny gasp
of surprise barely audible over the hard, unforgiving thud of his feet
on the carpeted floor. “Don’ fret, kitten. You’ll find out what’s goin’
on soon enough.”
“Spike, did I…” Her voice broke off as he tossed her a sharp glance
over his shoulder, his hands already moving to pull his boots on and do
up the laces. “I want you,” she whispered softly.
He bit back his smile. “Yeah? What do you want me for?” He tied the
laces and yanked on the second boot, doing it up the same way he had
the first. When he was done, he straightened and stepped back, settling
himself onto the end of the bed as he met her eyes again. “What’s a
matter, love? Feelin’ a li’l neglected over there? Wantin’ me to come
back and warm you up again?”
She bit her lip, suddenly looking nervous and shifted her stance as
best she could, rattling the chains with the abruptness of her
movements. “I am a little underdressed.”
“Hmm, you are, but I prefer you underdressed, pet. Makes havin’ my way
with you a mite easier, don’ you think?” He shuffled to his feet and
stealthily walked toward her, tenderly trailing a finger up her side.
“Buffy…, tell me a story, love. Tell me somethin’ you’ve dreamed of
doin’, somethin’ you’ve wanted to do but haven’ yet.”
A frown creased her brow. “I don’t understand. I’m not… good at telling stories.”
“Sure you are, kitten. You’ve been tellin’ me stories ever since you
firs’ woke up.” He slid his finger over, lightly caressing her belly
button. “You should get a piercin’, pet. A li’l bar right here, so ’s I
can play with it with my tongue.”
She trembled as he stepped up behind her, letting her feel the crisp
material of his shirt against her bare back, the hardness of his cock
at her arse. “Admit it, Buffy. Admit you’ve been usin’ this beautiful
li’l body ‘f yours to tell me a story.” He took her earlobe between his
lips, suckling until her fingers tightened on the chains near her
wrists and her body pressed back into his. “Admit you wanted me to burn
for you, to ache for the right to sink myself inside your hot, li’l
quim.”
“Spike…” she paused, moaning as he released her lobe and turned his attention to the pulse point of her throat, “… please. I need you.”
He gently bit down, locking one arm around her waist as her body bucked
from the unexpected onslaught of his teeth. “Now, kitten, you shouldn’
be sayin’ things like that. Gonna be makin’ me forget myself again and
then I won’ want to show you what ‘m goin’ to show you.”
One more quick nip and hard suckle of her skin and he backed away,
earning himself a small whimper of protest as he bent down and deftly
unlocked the chains at her ankles. “I’m takin’ a chance lettin’ you
loose again, pet, but I have a feelin’ you won’ be doin’ anythin’ else
I need to punish you for, not for a while at leas’.
“’Sides,” he said straightening back up, smirking as he reached to
unchain first one wrist and then the other. “If I have to punish you,
you won’ be able to enjoy what ‘m goin’ to be sharin’ with you and
trus’ me, love, you’re goin’ to love it.”
He turned her to face him, one hand gripping her bicep as he yanked her
forward, hard. She crashed into his chest, the fingers of his other
hand knotting in her hair as he brought her mouth closer to his, his
teeth gently nipping at her bottom lip. “You still want me to make you
fly, kitten? You still want me to teach you all the wicked li’l secrets
of this sinful, impish li’l body?”
She searched his eyes, meticulously studying his gaze and finally nodded her head, just once. “Y-yes.”
Spike kissed her quickly, deeply, and then stepped back, bestowing her
with a slow, wide smile. “Go dress yourself, kitten. Our night’s goin’
to get a bit more interestin’ now, yeah?”
Buffy huddled against Spike’s back as the loud roar of the motorcycle
cut through the perfect stillness of the night. While part of her
wanted to tell him to take her back to the dorms, beg off whatever new
plan he had up his sleeve, the other part of her, the part she never
fully knew existed until tonight, wanted more, of this, of him, of
them, and because of that, she couldn’t deny her interest in whatever
it was he wanted to show her next.
Maybe she was crazy for going with him, for letting him touch her in
the first place given the way she woke up, but it felt nice to be
wanted, to be desired and it felt especially nice to be desired by him.
She tightened her arms around his waist and smiled as his body leaned
into her wandering touch, her fingers playing with the undone closure
of his jeans. When she moved her hand to his zipper, intending to tease
him as he had done with her, he covered it with his palm, his head
quickly shaking back and forth.
“Not on the bike,” he yelled out over the wind, tossing her a quick,
apologetic glance over his right shoulder. “Too bloody dangerous in
gettin’ that distracted, pet.”
She frowned, nodding in submission, and lifted her arms a little higher
on his torso, her cheek pressing into the black leather of his bomber
jacket. “Sorry,” she called out, one hand flattening on his chest while
the other lightly gripped the material of his shirt. “I wasn’t
thinking.”
A hand covered the flat one on his chest, his thumb tenderly rubbing
circles on her skin. “No worries, love. I’d ‘ve done the same.” He
removed his hand and placed it back on the handlebar he abandoned, his
shoulders hunching slightly with every curve the cycle made. “We don’
have too much longer, pet. Jus’ another few miles and we’ll be gettin’
warm and toasty, even get some good chow if you want it.”
She nodded again, not really trusting her voice to speak and silently
thanked his thoughtful suggestion of food as well as his more generous
offer of wearing his long duster before they left his apartment, or as
he called it, his ‘flat’.
Buffy didn’t know what time it was really, having lost track somewhere
around ten and eleven, but judging by the height of the moon, she
figured it was close to two a.m., maybe even three. Didn’t give them
long to play before the sun came up and he had to take her back to the
dorms.
Not that she had classes tomorrow or anything, it being Saturday and
all, but still… she agreed to one night and despite what he said
earlier about wanting to continue things further, she wasn’t so sure
that would be a good idea. It would be so easy to get addicted to what
he was offering her, which in the long run would so not be of the good.
Yet, the more she thought about ending things tonight, the more her
body protested the decision. Even now, settled in securely behind him
on the death trap he called transportation, she felt the familiar throb
in her clit and the sticky moisture pooling between her thighs.
“So not good,” she muttered under breath, for once glad the loud rush of wind prevented him from hearing her. “So, so not good.”
Spike slowed the bike and grimaced as the familiar gated entrance to
his property finally came into full view. The high, black iron rails
looked sodding huge against the eight foot stone walls that lined the
estate and tonight, he wasn’t nearly as grateful for them as he should
be.
Of course, he hadn’t been much grateful before now, either.
Idling the bike near the electronic keypad, he quickly punched in the
four digit gate code, watching with equal parts dread and satisfaction
as the two parts swung open, widely parting the way for their entrance.
“Hold on tight now, love,” he said, briefly meeting her eyes before
looking back toward the long, curved drive ahead. “We’ll jerk a bit
when I give it the gas again, yeah?”
“Where are we?” she asked, scooting forward, leaning her chin in the
hollow space between his neck and shoulder. “Why are you so… tense?
What’s going on?”
She felt him tense, did she? Bloody hell, he’d just driven over twenty
miles with her plastered against his back, her bare legs straddling his
hips in ways that shouldn’t even be legal while driving any vehicle
down the highway, and then there was her little cop cop-a-feel-routine
a few miles back. Was it any bleeding wonder why he wouldn’t be tense after that?
Shaking his head, he gunned the engine on the bike, heading for the
main entrance of the house. “Jus’ a bit frustrated, love. Nothin’ to
worry about. Be takin’ care of that as soon as we get inside and warm
ourselves up. As for where we are…” he let the sentence dangle for a
moment as he pulled to a stop behind his Aston Martin convertible and
shut off the engine on the bike, “… ’s my house, pet. This is where I
sleep at night.”
He waited until her feet hit the pavement before swinging his own leg
over and joining her on the sidewalk, studiously taking in the
absolute, shocked rapture on her face. He grinned, looping an arm
around her waist, pulling her into his side so his lips could meet her
ear. “It only gets better on the inside, love. Trus’ me, you’re goin’
to love it here, kitten. Never wanna leave by the time ‘m done with
you.”
Spike winked when she turned to face him, green eyes wide and
uncertain. “This is… yours? You… live here… in this… house… on these…
grounds?”
“What, you think I was a poor, sexy bloke or somethin’?” He shook his
head. “Sorry to disappoint, pet. But I haven’ been poor since I was
born. Family money, this is. Inherited after my mum died. Didn’ deserve
it, and if truth were told, there are some days I don’ really want it,
either.”
He shrugged. “What’s done is done, though, yeah? I learned to make the
most of it and… I’ll show you jus’ how true that is once you get that
beautiful arse of yours up those steps and inside the joint.”
A/N: Special thank you to Im_bloody_English for the read through and as always, many thanks to my lovely beta, Dusty273, for holding my hand through the writing of this chapter and the last. *Hugs both tight*
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