A/N: Hello, so this is my first Spike-Buffy fanfiction even though I have always been a big shipper for them. I think they juste work so well together. This is an idea i had and thought I would exploit. I don't know whether or not I will write more, if it is popular, if I haven't completely out-of-charactered (yes, I did just invent a silly verb :)!) the characters and such. Please leave a review :) I love reviews. I'm a review junky. Seriously. As I always say in my other fics, English is not my mother tongue though I speak it quite fluently. I do however sometimes make grammatical errors and syntaxical errors as I calc my syntax on French :) not too much but sometimes. If this is a big issue for you, don't hesitate to point out the problems and I'll fix 'em.
Now on to the dirty, Spike-Under Age Buffy show :)
P.S. I hope to GOD I got Spike's britishness right!
There were some days Spike actually doubted his physical appeal. Rationally, he knew he hadn't always exactly been a ladies' man – because let's face it, in his human days, the ladies had preferred poofters with dramatically high hairlines of the likes of the great Poofter himself, Angelus – but the tables had turned with the dirty sixties and seventies, the glorious era when he'd gotten his hair bleached and had started wearing eyeliner. Not that he'd been particularly proud of sharing makeup bag space with Drusilla, but the punk look had given a whole new edge to his already rather edgy cheekbones and from then on, the ladies had always been attracted by the sinister charm of his slim yet muscular body, killer cheekbones and full lips.
Especially when he pouted.
The sixties had also given way for Spike to a great share of flower-people-drug-induced-hand-watching-hallucinations. High people were not very fun to hunt as they tended to bloody giggle – hullo, EVIL? - when he morphed into game face, but then again, they all had a particular flavour he'd loved. And fucking Drusilla whilst high on heavily-cocained-or-stoned-chic-blood had its perks. Like enhanced stamina – their longest run, or rut, really, had been eighteen hours straight, 87 orgasms and hickeys the size of fucking Texas.
Spike had had his fair share of women in the past century. Whilst there was something sacred between him and his Dark Princess, they had always been a rather… open couple. They'd had threesomes, foursomes, orgies, blood baths and many shared meals and through all this decadence and decay, Spike had mastered the finer art of oral sex, amongst other – rather numerous, varied and depraved - things. He loved giving head. Almost just as much as receiving it. Drusilla did have a bad tendency to bite him in surprising places…
Point was, Spike had no trouble finding willing women to populate his bed. They always came to him willingly, some even begging. Until he got bored and growled at them, full game face on. Then they tended to either faint, scream, weep or try to run away. He preferred when they did it all at the same time. Except for fainting. That was a bore. Limp unconscious victims were almost as boring as watching Drusilla try and slip blood in Miss Edith's tea.
Spike had had women. Spike had women. Spike would probably have a lot more women. Spike had even had a couple of particularly handsome men. Eternity could be… lengthy if you didn't try everything at least once. But in the end, he always ended with women – or on them. Spike loved women. Freud had told him in Vienna all those years ago he probably had mommy-issues. Unresolved Oedipal-complex. Spike had stopped accompanying Drusilla in her therapy sessions from then on.
Women. Women. Spike loved them. Everything about them turned him on, from the round bone of their wrists that he loved to caress before biting into the tender skin underneath, to the fine swan-like curve of their necks. And breasts. He bloody loved breasts. Arses too. A fine nice rump was the second best thing in bed. After a hot pair of legs. Yes, Spike loved women, and they loved him back.
Yet, there were some days he doubted he held any sort of attraction on women. Most of these days were spent cursing Drusilla's name as she forgot all about him in the arms – claws, wings, horns, et cae-bloody fucking-tera – of some bumpy creature of the night she'd fancy for a good shag. Why she could prefer ugly deformed creatures to his silky skin and taunt muscles eluded him completely. And that made him doubt his physical charm a whole lot.
Those nights, he spent roaming the town, wherever they were when she got those nasty cravings, hunting for something to sink his teeth – and/or cock – in. Something juicy, something sunny. California had had that effect so far on him. It had made him develop a new appreciation of the blondes. All sorts of blondes in California. Most were way too tanned to be naturals – and anyways, brunettes always smelled muskier to him, like his dark Drusilla, the freaking cunt who was currently having her quim pounded by some disgusting Chaos slimy bastard. But the real blondes, the ones he fancied, they were the yummiest treat. The California girls tasted of sunshine. And if Drusilla was going to spend the better time of their stay in L.A. grinding her bony – totally biteable - arse against that Chaos demon's antlers, well Spike was going to have a bloody good time drowning his sorrow in the blood and juices of intoxicated co-eds.
The best place to look for those late-night snacks were the darker alleys of L.A. where the rave crowds usually hung out for a smoke between two sweaty dances. The back alleys smelled musky from all the overheated skin exposed in the raves. The smell was intoxicating to a hungry vamp and Spike prowled the alleys on the hunt, slightly drunk from the three bottles of Jack Daniels he'd downed when he'd found Drusilla in the arms or antlers of that slimy thing. In their bed.
He could almost taste it on his tongue, the mix of cheap beer, the salty tang of sweat, the throbbing of the coppery blood pumping away in the oversexed, overheated bodies that currently lined the dirty doors of underground clubs, cigarettes in their mouths or hands. Even though Spike loved to smoke – and that is exactly what he was doing whilst prowling like a big feline – he didn't enjoy drinking from smokers as their blood always tasted chalky. He preferred slightly intoxicated girls with sweet sugary blood.
Everything and everyone smelled of sex here. Everyone except those two girls he'd just spotted walking out of a club. They were both way too young to be out at night so late. Underage kids really. They couldn't be any older than fifteen or sixteen. Boo-bloody-hoo, Spike thought, licking his canines at the thought of burying his fangs into their creamy little thighs. The tallest was a brunette with a heart-shaped face, her little thump-thump beating fast as she pulled her friend after her towards a darker alley. She smelled somewhat fresher than most of the crowd, but it was the blonde behind her that caused Spike to almost purr in satisfaction. She smelled absolutely decadent. Honey, ambrosia, Georgian peaches on a rainy afternoon, fresh lemonade with raw sugar in it, fresh dew on moss, daffodils.
A virgin. A blond, ripe, golden virgin.
She looked rather small and fragile from how far he stood. Small bones, the most delicate collarbones he'd seen in years in fact, tiny limbs on a tiny body. A woman's body though, that much he could tell. Unlike her taller friend who looked like she stuffed her bra to get some goods to flaunt, the petite blonde wasn't even wearing one. She was wearing some kind of gravity-defying silky top that bared her back and left very little to the imagination. Just some stringy ropes kept the thing in place and Spike couldn't wait to rip them to bare the golden mounds he currently wanted to bite.
As he followed them at a distance, Spike realized he wasn't the only one who'd noticed how absolutely yummy the two little meals on legs looked. Further down the dark alley the two girls were walking in, another vamp stood, behind the dumpsters, ready to pounce.
Patience had never been one of Spike's winning qualities. Nor was sharing. Especially his meals. Especially a virginal blonde whose faint perfume was currently causing most of his blood to flow in the direction of his crotch. That other vamp was going to have to hit the road, either figuratively or literally. Sliding into the shadow, Spike reached the other vamp before the girls could even get at hunting distance. How stupid fledglings were always amazed him. They were wet behind the ears and had no sense of style or survival. The fact this one had not even sensed Spike approach him served as proof he didn't deserve to see another night. Grabbing him at the throat, Spike growled menacingly.
'Not tonight, mate.' And then he ripped his head off in a swift move. Turning around, Spike growled in frustration. The girls, probably following those instincts humans usually stupidly ignored, were already headed back towards the club to dance some more, away from the dangers of a dark alley.
'You sure you don't want any? I promise it's safe.' The brunette chimed. Drugs. That was why she'd left the safety of the crowd with the blonde.
Spike heard her voice for the first time, keeping to the shadows a few meters behind them. A chirpy, slightly nasal voice. One that could scream in passion or murmur languidly in a man's ear. He purred.
'No, Amanda. I told you I don't do that shit.' The blonde said. So the brunette was Amanda. Boring name, Spike thought, rolling his eyes as he lit himself a cigarette. The two girls had reached the light of the back alley, it's golden hue tinting their sweat covered skin. Spike's nostrils flared. She smelled decadent.
'You're such a tight ass sometimes, Buffy.' Amanda said, holding the door of the trashy club opened for her friend.
Buffy. What a ridiculous name. No more ridicule than his, Spike thought.
Spike and Buffy. Buffy. Fluffly, golden Buffy. Spike and Buffy, Buffy and Spike, Buffy on Spike, trashing about, lips parted on a cry of pleasure or pain. Buffy naked, writhing against him in the dark of an alley. Buffy naked. Spike growled loudly, causing a few smokers to glance at him through glassy eyes. Spike frowned at them and tried to refocus.
Hunting.
Once she was his he could do as he wished with her but now, what mattered was getting her alone. With him. In the dark. Preferably naked.
The hunt. He was the predator, she was the bloody prey, he reminded himself.
Following them in the building, Spike's senses were overwhelmed by the powerful smell of hundreds of human bodies grinding and bumping against each other in the dark, sweat mixed with sweat, saliva with saliva, sweat with saliva, beer with sweat. Hands groped and mouths seeked. And in the middle of it all, her.
Her exquisite golden mane bounced wildly on her shoulders, baring them in beat to the pulsing rhythm of the music.
Goldilocks, that's what she made him think of.
The stroboscopic lights gave him flashes of her in different colours, her hair always a beacon of light, drawing him to her like he was a moth and her the flame. She was the polar opposite of his Dark Princess with her tall slender frame, dark hair and haunting eyes. As the girl turned around he noticed her eyes for the first time. Two pools of ocean green where he wanted to drown.
Her eyes locked on him and time seemed to stop. He knew he must have stood out against the crowd, his platinum hair almost white in the mind-fucking lights. Her gaze widened as he approached her, pushing through the bodies to get to her. And then, she turned away from him, giving him one sassy yet inquisitive look over her small shoulder. Her small, bare, golden shoulder. Was it normal he suddenly felt more like rubbing himself all over her? He wanted to make a human blanket out of her heat which was radiating in waves off her delectable skin. She would make a terrific vampire, he suddenly thought, imagining her, Dru and him, tangled in bed, naked, writhing in passionate embraces, scratching and clawing at each other like animals. Dru and the girl kissing. That would be a sight for sore eyes. Spike closed his eyes in delight for a few seconds before refocusing on his blond little nymphet. His. He was already possessive of the girl.
Prowling. Hunting. Hunting was the most sensual act for a vampire. That and sex. Both usually came together – Spike chuckled internally at his bad word game. His cock was hard as a rock, watching her narrow hips swivel in beat. A pair of hands appeared on them, girl hands. The brunette had noticed him and wanted to give him a show.
He'd never been a man to shy away from girl on girl action. Instead, he took a step closer to the blonde. She lifted her gaze up to his and her lips parted slightly.
Buffy gasped as Amanda spun her around, grinding her bony hips against hers. Amanda when high, was always a bit wild. Wild enough that the two of them had made out on quite a few occasions, discovering and learning so that neither would be a debutante the day they actually met guys who weren't total jerks like the jocks at Hemery High. Grinding her hips right back on Amanda's, Buffy felt a smile tease her lips. She didn't care much about anything at all. The few beers she'd had dizzied her enough that she didn't really mind if Amanda wanted to strip naked or dance on a bar. Hell she'd probably join.
All she cared about right now was following the pulsing beat and gazing some more at the hot man whom she'd spotted outside earlier. He was not extremely tall for a man but he was drop-dead gorgeous with a slight Billy Idol-punk rock look that made her knees wobbly. She'd always had a thing for bad boys. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she noticed how close he now was. Close enough to touch. And he was looking at her as if he was going to devour her.
Which wasn't so far from the truth, really.
Spike noticed her heartbeat speeding up and a wave of feminine arousal hit him as he got closer and closer. Over Buffy's shoulder, Amanda was grinning absently at him, lost in the fog of whatever drug she'd taken.
'Hello there.' The brunette mouthed at him. Spike ignored her and continued staring into Buffy's eyes.
'I think you should introduce yourself.' Amanda 'whispered' loudly in Buffy's ear, shaking her out of the trance Spike had apparently put her in. He shook himself out of it as well as he gazed at Buffy's throat where he wanted to bury his fangs.
'I'm… I'm Buffy,' She said, loud enough for him to hear over the music. If he'd been human. But things being what they were – he being dead and all – she could have murmured and he'd have heard her anyways, his senses so keenly directed at her.
'You're delicious, pet.' Spike replied, smirking that cocky grin – tongue curled behind his teeth - that caused women to cream their knickers. Apparently, Buffy was no exception to the rule and he almost grabbed her right here and there to fuck her senseless or eat her or both.
'Houuu! I think he's hot for you, Buff.' Amanda snickered in her ear, pushing her forward. The unexpected momentum caused Buffy to fall on him, her breasts flat against his chest, her hands on his biceps, trying to steady herself on her suddenly wobbly legs.
'Dance with me.' He said, bending down so his mouth was almost pressed against her ear. He felt a shiver go through her and her nipples hardened against the strong planes of his chest.
Turning her around, Spike ground his hips and hard length into the soft curve of her back. On instinct, Buffy lifted her arms and wrapped her hands around his neck and looking up at him. Her fingers tangled in the short hair at the nape of his neck and she tangled his carefully slicked back curls in the most erotic nail-raking of his undead existence. She could feel his arousal and purposely ground her ass in it, causing him to moan. Wrapping his hands possessively on her hips, he brushed his thumbs under her silky top, caressing the burning taunt skin of her stomach. She moaned softly and smiled up at him.
By now, Buffy felt as if she was loosing her grasp on reality. He was too good to be true. Too handsome. Too…
'You're very pretty.' She breathed.
'Pretty?' He replied, stunned. Pretty? Him, pretty? What did the girl have for brains? He was not pretty. He was… manly, virile, dangerous, edgy. Not bloody pretty. He was not some poncy nancy boy with daisies at his lapels, for god's sake!
'Handsome, is that better?' she quickly added, blushing wildly under his extremely well…manly scrutiny. Buffy was used to older men looking at her as an object of desire. She blamed it on her blond hair and youth. She'd never admit it but she loved to be wanted. Even though she acted quite sanctimonious when the school boys got a little too into her. And the man, the dark stranger's who's manliness was quite literally dry-humping her lower back, was hot and hard. And dangerous. She could tell that much. Dangerous and sexy as hell.
'Depends.' Spike replied, the hunter in him trashing against the mental cage he'd built to stop himself from attacking her now. It wouldn't do for him to drain her right in front of her friends. Nor would it work out well if he decided to fuck her senseless on the dirty club floor.
Depends.
'On what?' Buffy asked innocently, licking her lips nervously. He watched the pink tongue dart out and felt this irrepressible urge to lick it, bite it. Swallow her whole. That puckered and glossed little mouth of hers made her think of this other pair of lips she had between her thighs, another pair of lips he wanted to lick and tongue and nibble on. Would her cum taste as good or better than her blood? He wondered. Had the girl ever even had an orgasm? He suddenly wanted very much to be the first to give her a toe-curling moment of bliss. Since when had he become sentimental about his food and fucks?
'On whether you let me kiss you or not.' Spike said, spinning her around so she was now facing him once more. Slipping his knee between her thighs, he pulled her towards him, grinding the rough material of his jeans against the warm skin he found there. She moaned, loud enough so that Amanda, who was still dancing like a little freak with some unknown college boy who looked like he was about to come in his pants trousers, turned and stared at Buffy.
'Kiss him, you stupid cow!' Amanda whined, giggling as the college boy groped her ass vulgarity.
'But…' Buffy started to say.
'See' the brunette giggled, addressing Spike this time, 'My friend Buffy's never been kissed…' At that, the blonde rolled her eyes and sighed.
'What she means is she'd really like you to kiss her. She has a thing for punk-rock Billy-Idol lookalikes.' Buffy supplied, smirking innocently before turning away from him to continue dancing heartily. Sliding her hands into her hair, she bared her neck and twirled passionately to the beat of the song.
Unable to stop himself, Spike, ignoring the brunette's boring attempts at getting his attention, slid his hands on Buffy's slender hips once more and pressed himself against her. He was so fucking hard it was almost painful. She smelled even better from up close and the fast beat of her heart pumping away in her chest was making him dizzy.
On a sudden impulse, Spike grabbed Buffy's hand and pulled her through the crowd, ignoring her attempts at shrugging his hand off. He pushed her under dark stairs away from inquisitive eyes and pressed her against a wall, caging her between his arms. Her back hit the stony wall behind her and mystery man invaded her personal space, his face a mere inch from hers. She looked up at him, bewildered, suddenly nervous, afraid.
He looked even more dashing from up close. His cheekbones were so sharp she feared for an instant they might cut her if he got closer. His eyes were the sexiest shade of blue, almost marine in this light. And his lips, perfection, à la Brad Pitt, rosy and pouty enough she wanted to chew on them. Her fear momentarily subsided. How could something so beautiful be evil? How could the face of a fallen angel belong to a serial killer or a rapist?
'You are one little tease, you know that?' Spike growled. Growled. As if he was some animal in heat and her, his wanton horny female. Which she kind of was, she realized as her breathing sped up and her lips parted of their own accord.
' I… I'm sorry.' She stuttered, her nipples forming hard peaks through the silky material of her top.
'Don't be. I like it.' He purred, his mouth watering. Alone with her in the dark, he could concentrate more on her smell, how good she seemed to taste. He could smell her arousal, wet and tangy and he could almost imagine her little tight quim quivering over his massive hard-on. Yes, she was definitely shag-material. Long hours of sweaty, acrobatic shagging. He felt a dirty kind of possessiveness and decided then and there that whatever happened, he'd be the first man to pry her thighs open, to lick her from top to bottom, to pound her on the ground until she cried out in delirious…
'What do you want?' she said, making her voice stronger, trying to hide the fact she was now equally terrified and aroused by him.
'You, naked.' He groaned, pressing his cheek against hers, causing Buffy to blush and whimper. Well, at least he was very honest about his intentions. Adolescent Buffy felt equal parts of shyness and pride at causing such a beautiful man to be so… blatantly aroused. She could feel the hard bump against his jeans and bit her lip nervously.
'Well you're straight to the point.' She finally gasped as his mouth latched on her throat, sucking at the tender skin. His mouth trailed dangerously from her collarbone to that sensitive spot she didn't even know she had, right underneath her ear, at the juncture between her jaw bone and her neck. She mewled softly, a kittenish sound that cause him to press himself more forcefully against her. His hands roamed on her body, one tangling itself in her hair, the other cupping her ass quite possessively through her skimpy little skirt.
'Want you.' He panted in her ear, his arse-obsessed hand sliding up her bare back to undo the first tiny ropes keeping her top closed on the two pieces of flesh he currently wanted to suckle on. At the sound of his voice, of the raw desire in it, the female part of Buffy reacted very strongly and she dug her fingers under his shirt, caressing his lower back. His skin was unbelievably cool. Her hands felt so bloody warm on his skin. He couldn't wait to feel her lips on his, her warm tongue invading his mouth. He trailed kisses up her jaw, towards her lips but she turned her head, gasping in pleasure as his thigh pressed against her increasingly wet mound through the material of her skirt. He could feed later, now all he wanted was to make her mewl and moan some more. Possibly his name, if he ever got around to telling it to her.
Buffy suddenly realized how quick things were escalating and where this was all headed and she panicked.
'Stop, stop.' She begged, her fists drumming on his chest to push him away. He pushed away and stared at her, his eyes stormy and angry now.
'Why.' He said, not even actually asking.
'I've…I've never done this before. I don't even know your name. And I'm not drunk enough to do this, I'm sorry.' She said, trying to slip away.
What happened next would spin around in Spike's mind for the weeks to come, if not months or years. The vision of her would burn in his brain forever perhaps.
She suddenly went ramrod straight, tremors overtaking her immediately after. Her thighs clenched on his knee as her hips undulated, pressing their pelvises together. She panted loudly, her hands clutching his biceps for support as she moaned loudly, as if in the throes of a particularly strong orgasm. Spike was mesmerized, enthralled by her wet lips forming the sexiest 'O', her eyes closing in delight. Mesmerized. So much so it took him a few seconds to realize just how strong her grip on his biceps had suddenly become. Unnaturally strong. Strong to the point it would leave bruises. And when she opened her eyes, he understood immediately, the raw facts causing his mind to blank momentarily. Her smell suddenly drowning him, her strength radiating off her slender frame, her golden skin tingling, her breath raw, ragged on his lips. His head dipped towards hers and he watched, utterly and completely fascinated by what he'd just witnessed.
Because in front of him, in the arms of one of the most lethal vampires, Buffy had just been called as the next Slayer.
