"What are we doing down here, Spike?"
"Thought we could have a bit of a domestic."
"….A what?"
"A fight."
She rolls her eyes and moves to walk past him back up the stairs. He blocks her path.
"I'm not fighting you Spike. Move out of the way."
"Make me." He's grinning.
"No, that's sick. It's… abusive."
"Don't call it a fight then. A workout." He moves in close, the coolness of his breath tickles her skin, "you say you're angry. Put it on me. Put it all on me."
She moves back, but he moves in even closer, skin nearly touching skin.
"I know it's not your first time, Slayer. Sparred with Riley, at least once. Did you know I was watching? Watching you pull every punch. Treat the poor boy with kid gloves. Must've been so unsatisfying for you. Keeping yourself on a leash so you didn't bruise the boy. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to cut in on your little dance."
"I'm not going to hurt you Spike."
"Oooh. Someone's feeling awfully sure of herself."
She smirks despite herself.
"You really are in love with pain."
"I'm in love with a girl in pain. It's very different."
She sighs but he can see she's coming around.
"Come on, sweetheart. I know you need to."
"This is completely dysfunctional."
"It's purely functional. We both want it. It'll clear the air a bit."
A smile finally breaks through. He grins, running his tongue across his teeth like a hungry wolf.
"Ready?"
She nods.
"On three?"
"Sure. Three." Her punch catches him hard on the jaw. His head whips back in blur and he slams his fist hard into her eye. She stumbles back, and only just blocks another fist swinging for her mouth, and a second to her stomach. She hits back, catching him hard in the chest, and again in the side but he stops her fist before it lands and backhands her with the side of his arm.
"You're pulling your punches, honey." He swings for her face but she grips his wrist.
"Change your face."
He does, teeth shifting down, forehead creasing, blue eyes now a vicious yellow.
"Better?"
"Better." She throws his wrist away, landing a hard punch across his eyebrow, and a second in his mouth. He blocks the third, slamming her back, kicking her feet out from under her. She lands on her back, and from the floor kicks him hard in the gut. It knocks him back against a workbench that cracks from the impact. She's back on her feet, and he blocks a kick to his side.
"Come on Slayer, I know that's not all you've got," he punches her back away from him and swings a high kick into her arm, the force of it sending her flying back into the wall.
He bites his lip in a leer, "always did love tossing you about like this. My own little rubber ball."
"You're a pig," but she's grinning.
"Makes you feel hot though doesn't it. Always did, I know it. I could smell it, Buffy. Don't think I didn't notice."
She pushes herself off the wall. Throws a fist, that he blocks. Blocks, blocks. An uppercut catches him across his chin and his fangs slice his lip. He wipes the blood of his chin, curls the same hand into a fist and slams it into her mouth. It splits the skin of his hand, but she doesn't even flinch. She backhands him hard and he falls against the pillar, knocking his head against the concrete.
Her fist is hurtling towards his mouth again but he catches it. He grabs the collar of her shirt, twists it and pulls her close, fangs pulling back before slamming his mouth down on hers. She groans, pushing back against him hard. Her tongue wraps around his and he can taste his own blood in her mouth.
His hand pushes under her shirt, cups a breast, traps the nipple between his first and second finger and squeezes. She howls into his mouth, back arching.
He backs her up against the pillar, pulling the shirt up, off over her head. She pushes him away for a second and steps out of her leggings, grabbing him by the belt and pulling him back in. He wraps his hand in her hair and yanks her head back, sinking blunt teeth down over her neck. Her left hand pushes his head down hard, screaming from it, pinning him against her. Her right hand undoes his belt, runs the zip down and slides her hand down. He moans as her hand closes around his cock.
He grinds hard against her, rocking against her hand. Her little finger brushes over the back of his tip, soft skin on soft skin, the friction of it sending bolts of lightning up every nerve. He bites down on her neck harder and she gasps in his ear. When it gets too much he pulls his mouth off her neck, leaving a dark red welt, surrounded by teeth marks. He pulls her hand off his cock, wrapping it around his shoulders. He lifts her up by the waist, pinning her against the pillar, holding her in place with his hips.
She lowers herself down onto him, impaling herself, and he pushes back against her. Her eyes roll back and she howls as he hits the back of her.
"Look at me, Buffy."
Her eyes fix on his. He runs a thumb over her bottom lip, wiping away a trace of his blood. It stains her lip a soft red.
"Say it to me this time."
She nods, resting her head against his.
"I love you."
He sighs, puts his hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss, arching up into her.
She holds on tighter with her legs. His left hand is wrapped around her waist, and his right finds her hand that's across his shoulder, pushing his fingers between hers, pulling her hand down so her arm winds round his back tighter. He's moaning with each thrust.
Her free hand cups his head, stroking his cheek. The tenderness of it fills him to the brim, breaks his heart into a thousand pieces.
He leans in further against her, pushing her flush against the concrete of the pillar. He lets go of her hand and grips the back of the pillar, pulling himself against it, closing every bit of space between them.
Buffy's head swims as his groin pushes against her clit hard. He's grinding against her, every thrust building the tension in her to boiling point.
"I…"
I'm going to…
"Spike…"
He pushes against her harder. Feels her breathing turn to gasping. Turn to screaming.
"Feel better, pet?"
She lies next to him on the floor, panting. Eyes closed. "Yeah."
He finds her hand and squeezes it.
"It will get better."
She turns to him, raising an eyebrow.
"No, not this you twit." He turns to her, pulling a strand of hair off her face, "it'll get easier. You just have to give it time."
"It hurts."
"I know."
She sighs.
"I'm so tired already."
"You'll be back there when it's your time. Until then you can always kick me about a bit when it gets too much."
She laughs.
"You're deranged."
"I'm not the only one here who likes it rough."
He moves in to bite the lobe of her ear, tongue flicking across the soft skin. She moans, sighing a little.
"No one makes it hurt in just the right way like you do. Didn't want to lose that."
"You're a masochist, Spike."
"Don't be a prude, I know you loved it just as much," he tucks her hair back from her neck, nipping at her jaw, "tell me when you liked it."
"Ew, no." She moves to pull away from him but he grabs her waist and drags her closer.
He props himself up on an elbow.
"You know it's our anniversary next week."
"Our…what?!"
"Been engaged two years."
She stares at him mouth open.
"You're completely insane."
"You're the one who never broke it off."
"It was a SPELL, you complete basket case!"
"Oh yeah?" He smirks, "then why'd you keep the ring."
"I DID NOT!"
"Found it upstairs in your jewellery box."
Her face turns red, "you went through my stuff!?"
"And you're what, shocked and appalled? Don't see how you've got the right, the amount of times I've caught you riffling through my personals," he kisses her, sucking hard on her bottom lip, grazing his teeth over her jaw, "what dyu think, shall we do something special? Beat each other up somewhere nice?"
She rolls her eyes, and he cups her face in both his hands, kissing her deeply.