Interlude

Spike woke to the rich heady scent of his mate's blood. Her heartbeat beating out a soothing rhythm, her breathing soft and steady. Buffy was curled around him, one of her legs between his, her breasts pressed up against him. His face was buried against her neck. He groaned deep in his chest, overwhelmed. Her scent, her sound. She saturated his senses, flooding him with tranquility. Three days ago, her siren song filled him with bloodlust. Now, it was just lust. Hunger could wait; he wanted to make love to her.

He nuzzled against her neck and placed soft open-mouthed kisses along the side of her throat. He reached that spot where her neck met her shoulder and she arched into his touch, she liked it when he touched her there. So, of course, he paid it extra attention. She let out one of those low moans of pleasure that made his body vibrate and he nipped her. "Spike," she whispered. He skated his hand down her spine and cupped her bottom. "Oh, yes," she moaned. He shifted his knee so that his leg would rub up against her just so, and her sounds of pleasure got higher in pitch. He took his time, fondling her from tits to ass, stroking her stomach, her lovely hips. Kissing her everywhere he could reach.

His girl lifted her head and gave him a small sexy smile. That smile would be his undoing and he knew it. Being the crazy creature that he was, Spike didn't care, and smiled back. Her eyes were soft and dewy with lust, and Spike wanted her with everything he had. His sweet baby got impatient and slipped her leg over his, rising up over him, sliding down onto his painfully hard prick. Oh yeah, she was made for him. Her lovely quim was swollen tight and velvet soft from all the attention he'd been giving it lately and she had to rock back and forth a few times to get him sheathed inside her completely.

Her body fit his perfectly. Yin and Yang. He gripped her taut little waist and flexed his fingers possessively. She braced her soft deadly hands on his chest and moved in a slow steady motion. He raised his hips to meet her and managed to hit her sweet spot. Her nails dug into his skin drawing little specks of blood and she let out a sharp little cry. So he did it again.

She tilted her head back exposing the delicate column of her throat, her long unbound hair brushing up against his thighs, setting every nerve on fire. It was intoxicating watching her. Watching her wake up, become aware, become wanting. Watching her desire spark and spiral into lust. The feel of it rushing through him like the pulse he didn't have, the ebb and flow of her hunger catching on all of his jagged feelings. He'd never felt anything like it. Never wanted anything like it. She was captured lighting in his hands. The power and the surge of her energy trapped inside the fragile seeming body of a woman. A woman who had captured every edge of his fascination. Deadly killer, wanton lover, avenging angel.

He loved the way the sounds she made escalated as she got closer to orgasm. She went from moans, to cries, to calling out his name in increasingly louder tones. He loved the way she lost control, bruising and bloodying him in her passion. He loved the way she changed her rhythm and the way she rocked and swiveled those wicked hips of hers so she never hit him quite the same way. He loved how soft and firm her skin was and how he was allowed to run his hands wherever he wanted. He loved how she leaned into his touch and quivered for him.

He loved her hair. The way it smelled, and looked, and surrounded him when he was inside of her. He gripped a handful and pulled his Slayer down for a kiss. The changed position had her bucking wildly against him. Her muscles spasmed around him as she hit her peak and he rocked hard against her drowning in her scent and taste and feel. He went from lazy easy fucking, just enjoying the feel of her, to white hot lust in a hot second. Before he could stop he had emptied himself inside her with shuddering bursts.

It was over far too quickly. Early morning fucks were supposed to be lazy and long and sweet. He supposed no one had told his prick. The damn thing couldn't get enough of her and pulsed as if his heart beat as it enjoyed her warm wet heat, super sensitive now that he had cum. She rested against him, her lovely face in the curve of his neck, while she panted her way to calm. She certainly was good for his ego. She might be a mean bitch, but there was no doubt that he left her glowing and satisfied. He smoothed her hair, petted the dip of her spine, kneaded her fine hips until she finally pulled away from him. She sat up, climbing off of him to the right, so that she was standing next to the bed.

Goddamn, she was glorious, standing in the low light, naked and tousled. He had half a mind to sit up, pull her back into his arms and spend some time tonguing those lovely edible tits of hers, but he stayed put, choosing to just enjoy looking for a moment. She looked like she might want to say something, but after a moment of silence, she turned and walked out of the room. The view from behind was just as lovely. For such a skinny girl, she sure did have a delightfully round little ass. A moment later he heard the bathroom door click.

He reached over to the bedside table for his smokes and lit one just to have something to do with his hands. When Buffy got back she would probably kick him out of her bed again or give him the: "this is wrong" speech. He bloody well knew it was wrong. He also knew that he wanted her and that she was his, damn it. She'd tried to squirrel out of his arms twice in the last few hours, both times he had pinned her down and kissed her until she couldn't remember her own name. He'd fucked her so thoroughly and well his poor overused cock felt heavy and sore.

Fuck if he knew what they were doing. Sex with the Slayer. Bloody amazing sex with a golden goddess more like. In over a century he'd never been with a woman who overwhelmed him so completely. He lost control with her and that was scary. She gave as good as she got, and it was a bloody miracle he hadn't burst into flames in her hands. Dru had gone on and on about him tasting like ashes. She must have known. Gods, was she even still in Sunnyhell? Spike realized with a kick of guilt that he hadn't thought of Dru once since he had kissed the Slayer in the kitchen. He ought to be frantic to find her, but instead he was just passably worried.

Spike shrugged, mentally saying to hell with it. She had wanted to be free of him and he had problems of his own. By the time this mess with the Slayer was sussed out Dru would be ripe and willing to fall back into his arms. This would give her time to realize how much she loved and needed him.

Spike frowned and crushed out his cigarette. The thought of Dru coming back to him did not fill him with the warm glow he had come to expect. It was just a side effect of the mating. When he was separated from Buffy he would want Dru again. His mind was just clouded, in the most delicious way. The very idea of being separated from his mate brought on faint waves of panic but Spike pushed them down. In the meantime, he had a gorgeous lover that made him quiver.

Dru could wait.

Buffy stared at her pale features in the mirror. Her lips were swollen from rough kisses, her neck bore faint red marks where Spike had nipped and sucked. No surprise that he had a fixation with necks. The surprise was how much she liked it. The marks he'd left on her soul wouldn't fade so quickly. She could no longer pretend that sex with Spike did anything but rock her to the core. His kisses were like a drug, his touch set her on fire. And she didn't think it had anything to do with this bond between them. The lust hadn't been mating induced since that first time. No, this was all Spike.

Not that she should be surprised, he had over a century of experience in seduction. Learning how to use his clever hands, and tongue, and body. Yep, that would be her new excuse; she was being seduced by an expert. Except that didn't ring true in her head either. She had initiated some of this last all-night love fest and participated in all of it. Twice she had come to her senses and attempted to end things, but Spike hadn't listened, just pulled her in and kissed her until she couldn't remember her own name.

Worse, it got better every time. Spike was doing that Spike thing. Where he watched her, and learned about her. Instead of figuring out her weak spots in a fight he was figuring out the best way to touch her. Just like their fights had escalated into epic battles on the edge of survival. Now he knew how to keep her desire on that edge, feed her just enough to make her want more. He'd fucked her so thoroughly he'd managed to make her a little sore. She was a slayer for God's sake, she was built to take a beating. If she'd been completely mortal he probably would have fucked her to death by now, and she would have died begging him to do it a little bit harder. Make her hurt just a little bit better. What was wrong with her? This was so sick.

Buffy wet a washcloth and began to wash her face. Her whole body was limp with exhaustion. All her muscles completely relaxed. She felt wrung out like a limp noodle. She felt good. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so stress-free. Note to self: Marathon hot monkey sex good for relaxation. She wet her toothbrush and began to vigorously wash the taste of Spike from her mouth. The entirely too pleasant taste. She was scarred for life.

So, Spike knew how to make her toes curl and her body shake. That was not the point. Buffy didn't believe in casual sex just for the sake of it. She could never have anything more with a soulless annoying Vamp who would just as soon eat people as look at them. Finding her pleasure with a killer was just wrong on so many levels. What would her friends think if they knew she had been writhing and screaming for a dead man? A dead man besides Angel.

This had to stop. He wouldn't like it. He was much more accepting of this whole thing, living in the moment as he did. But she needed to look in the mirror and not be disappointed and ashamed of herself. She used the washcloth to clean off her thighs and shuddered thinking of how the mess had gotten there. She closed her eyes against the sensation when she ran the washcloth over the sensitive and swollen flesh of her sex, wiping it clean. She pulled her robe off the back of the door and wrapped the thick terry cloth around her modestly. She knew Spike would scoff but she felt more in control with her nakedness covered.

Spike was sprawled out naked, in all his glory, on her sheets. Completely unashamed. And why should he be? He was all hard muscle and pale skin. Her comforter had been tossed to the floor at some point. He watched her with hooded eyes while she picked it up and draped it over the end of the bed. "Got classes today?" He questioned when she just stood there like a lump.

"Uhm Yeah, but not till this afternoon. My mom's plane is supposed to land at 9:15 so she'll be home fairly early." Buffy paused trying to think of the most effective thing to say to get him to hide in the basement until she talked to her mom. Spike, of course, took her pause as an invitation and moved in front of her on his knees faster than she could blink.

"That's at least three hours." He purred in a husky voice, his hands pulling loose the tie of her robe to slide his hands inside to caress her skin. "Warm silk you are." He bent his head to her neck and Buffy reached up to push him away, but when her hands met his smooth skin she found herself clutching at him instead. They had to stop, this was wrong. God in heaven, why did he feel so good?

"Drusilla, Drusilla." She squeaked pulling away. He kept his hands on her waist and looked up at her in complete confusion. His blue eyes were so expressive. "You can't do this because you're in love with Dru." He gave her a slow sexy smile.

"Buffy, what are you nattering on about?" He asked sliding his hands up to cup her breasts and kneaded them softly. He squeezed lightly running his fingers from the base to tips until he reached her nipples rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Buffy called herself nine kinds of slut as she arched into his touch and cried out at the sensation.

"Spike, this is wrong." She whispered, hating the sound of her husky lust filled voice.

"I know luv." He replied, equally husky and bent to flick his tongue over one extended nipple. She cried out and he took the nipple into his mouth and sucked, swirling his tongue over her sensitive flesh. She had never played with her breasts much, and was very surprised to find just how sensitive they could be when fondled. Was shocked how erotic his fascination with them was.

"Spike! Stop, we have to stop." He pulled back again to look at her. "Spike, I can't do this, sex just because it feels good, is wrong. I, I'm not built that way I need love and friendship and…"

"Are you asking for love and friendship?" he asked, obviously bewildered.

"No! No, of course not, I'm just explaining that this can't happen anymore, it's wrong." He tugged on her suddenly sending her sprawling on top of him. He rolled her to her back and kissed her gently on the lips.

"So, this is some sort of moral crisis."

"Spike, your turning me into a slut!" Her voice came out in a very undignified wail and she shut her mouth in embarrassment. She turned her head and he nuzzled her neck. He slid one leg between hers and danced his hands over her flesh.

"Slayer, you belong to me." He whispered. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. His words sent uncontrollable pleasure rocketing through her. "I belong to you." He kissed her jugular and the hollow of her throat, before finding his bite mark and giving it a little nibble that sent lust rocketing through her despite all the sex she'd been having. "S'not wrong luv, it's natural."

He blew on her wet nipple and kissed the other, giving it the same slow treatment. His hand snaked down to touch her intimately and he growled "mine" as he pushed two fingers inside of her and kissed her lips. She arched into his touch and cried out. God, he made her feel so good. He pushed her legs apart and settled between them. His cock probed at her entrance a moment before he pushed inside of her, stretching her sore swollen flesh, filling her with a delicious ache. She braced her feet on the bed and pushed up to meet him. He liked that, he let out ragged sound of pleasure, so she did it again. He met her eyes and pushed into her harder. "Mine"

Spike set a hard-fast pace, roughly claiming her body as his. Kissing and nipping and touching her desperately. When she orgasmed, soaking him with a fresh round of slippery wetness, he changed the angle of his hips and continued to piston until she climaxed again. The lazy sweet rhythm from this morning was long gone. He hiked her legs up over his shoulders, braced his hands on her thighs, and drove into her over and over again until he finished with a low roar.

He bowed over her, burying his face in her breasts, letting her shaking legs down to fall open on either side of his lean hips, rested on her for a few breathless moments while Buffy tried to get her wildly beating heart under control. He shifted his weight off her, turning on his side, but he did not let her go, keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her middle, kissing her shoulder, the corner of her mouth. Her robe tangled up between them and she realized she still had it on. So much for her safety layer.

Hers. She liked the sound of that a little too much. She knew it, he knew it, but it hadn't been said out loud. Maybe that was what was wrong with her, her body was just confused about the nature of their relationship.

"Slayer, no sense in fighting it. Nothing's gonna change till your Watcher figures out how to separate us. No sense in being more miserable than we have to be." Spike said as he scooted up to the headboard and reaching for his cigarettes. "Take that robe off luv." Buffy sat up. With the robe wide open like it was it left nothing to the imagination. But undressing herself would be an admission, a concession. Oh, this was ridiculous. As if sleeping with him a half-dozen times wasn't a concession. She pushed it off her shoulders slowly, liking the way his eyes darkened with lust. Then she crawled up next to him bringing the comforter with her. She would just have to tell Giles he needed to speed up the research.