Spike lounges in his chair, left leg cocked over the armrest. He takes a swig from the half empty bottle of wine in his hand.
Bad habits. He sneers at himself. Always falling for the girl who can't stand to admit she's mine.
He sits for a long time in the flickering candlelight. There's a bruise starting to form along his jaw, and he rubs it absentmindedly.
Fucking prick. If it wasn't for this sodding chip I'd have had his throat out with my teeth.
The crypt door opens. He doesn't need to turn around to know she's standing there, the scent of her fills the room. She stays standing on the threshold.
"Hey."
He sighs, exhausted.
"What are you doing here, Buffy?"
She moves in front of him.
"Are you alright?"
He hardens his jaw.
"Peachy."
He takes another swig of wine from the bottle. When he finally looks her in the eyes he sees the hard mask she puts on over her vulnerability.
"I'm sorry about Xander."
"Like I give a toss about that ponce."
She perches on the armrest. The nearness of her makes his nerves vibrate uncomfortably.
"I'm not good at being honest with them."
"It's got nothing to do with honesty, pet. You just like getting away with it right under their noses. I think if you could tell the truth about us you'd be a happier person, but that'd just be too wholesome for you, wouldn't it?"
She winces at his words, and he regrets them instantly, but he's too hurt to undo them.
Her face is hidden by the curtain of her hair. He reaches up to tuck it out of the way. She's still wearing the earrings he bought her.
"You think it would really be so bad if they knew? What kind of friends would they be if they couldn't let you be just a little bit happy, after everything you've done for them?"
"...I know. I've just not had a lot of luck with the men in my life, and they can be very... judgy. Just wanted to avoid it for a while."
"That's the story you're sticking with then, is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Come off it. We both know it's not that at all. Tara and Dawn are both on your side. Willow can be too once you let her in a little, God knows she gets the unrequited love angle at the moment. Xander's the only road block that's causing all this grief."
Buffy sighs deeply, rubbing her eyes.
"Yeah. He's-"
"In love with you."
She looks at him shocked.
"Oh, cut the innocent bit, you're not an idiot, and it's gotten much worse since you came back."
"He's with Anya."
"He's passing time with Anya. I don't need to point out how dangerous using a thousand-year-old only recently-ex vengeance demon as a rebound is. If you don't do something about it we're all going to be in a lot of trouble."
"Why does it always have to be me that has to sort everything out?"
"Don't sulk. For once this isn't a damnation and hellfire apocalypse brewing. It's a friend who needs to be put back in his place. You're more than capable of that," he takes a swig from the wine bottle again, "I should know. Got enough broken bones over the years to prove it."
"I don't know how to let people down gently."
Spike can't help but laugh sadly.
"Yes clearly. So do it un-gently."
She swallows.
"I don't want to lose him as a friend."
"Then he needs to be a man worthy enough to be your friend, Buffy. If the price of his friendship is your happiness then he's not a friend, he's a leech."
Tears prickle in the corners of Buffy's eyes.
He's right. And I've been a coward about it.
She takes the wine bottle from his hand and settles it on the table. She runs her fingers over the bruise on his jaw. A burst of anger flares in the pit of her stomach. At Xander... And herself.
"You're right. And...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let him do that to you."
He pulls her down into his lap, hand gripping her hip, bracing her against him. She wriggles a little, fighting against the pressure but not hard.
He hooks his fingers under the cord of her necklace, pulling her face closer to his. When he kisses her he bites her bottom lip hard, making her gasp. His hand pushes up under the hem of her top, clenches down on her back.
He pushes her mouth open wider, his other hand on neck, gripping a little harder than his usual gentle pressure, feeling her tongue slip into his mouth, gliding over his, sliding his tongue into hers. Her hand is moving down his torso, passed his belt. Her fingers meet the skin of his stomach where his shirt has risen up.
He breaks the kiss.
"You're sorry, huh?" She's starting to pant from their kiss, the scent of her hair, the feeling of her blood rushing underneath his fingers makes him a little dizzy. "Get on your knees, Slayer. Show me how sorry you are."
She pulls back, mock disgust slapped across her face.
"You're such a pig."
"Yeah? Act all high and mighty about it for me, luv. Makes it twice the fun."
She smiles, and kisses him again, then slides off his lap, settling herself between his legs. As she unbuckles his belt he fondles the hoop in her ear, tugging at it gently.
She releases him from his jeans, the soft skin of her hand wrapping round his cock, and he feels the thump of her pulse. She toys with him gently for a little while, her thumb brushing at the underside of his tip, making him moan softly. When she takes him in her mouth the heat of it is overpowering, like being swallowed whole, her tongue wrapping around him, teeth softly grazing.
The crypt door is still slightly ajar and on a gust of wind an unwanted scent carries through. The smell of Xander's soap and cheap cologne.
Spike glances at the grilled window of the crypt. One of the panes is broken and free of glass, a black square in amongst the pale yellow ones reflecting the candlelight back into the room. It's dark as pitch beyond it but something moves in the darkness.
So... we have an audience.
...Bit late to stop now...
Buffy's mouth moves lower down, taking him in deeper and he groans, louder than he really feels the need to. Her hair has fallen back across her face and he combs his fingers through it, scoops it up and away, pinning it back behind her ear, revealing her face, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers as he does. As he does there's a nearly inaudible gasp outside, and Xander's scent becomes mingled with another bitter smell. Rage.
That's right, whelp. Take it all in, you pathetic creep.
She's being teasingly slow, each movement hardly there. She moans and he feels the vibration of it all the way up and through him like an earthquake. He thrusts up into her, pushing to the back of her throat, and her tongue flutters against him.
He unbuttons his shirt, runs a hand down his muscles, takes one of her hands from around his hip and moves them onto his skin where she holds him by the ribs.
Think you'd look this good in her mouth, boy? Does it burn you up, knowing she'd rather be on her knees in the dirt with me than anywhere near you.
Her head dips, tongue weaving back and forth against his skin, building momentum, and for a moment he forgets everything but the feel of her, such exquisite, excruciating heat.
"God, Buffy..." He moves his leg off the armrest and lies it against her back, pulling her in closer. She's sucking on him harder, the pressure becoming torturous. She moans again with her tongue flat against him and he jolts from the vibration of it, "oh, do it again..." she does and he feels himself reaching the peak of it, the back of her tongue caressing his tip, swirling around him.
He's thrusting with her, each dip of her head being met by a push from him. He keeps the rising ecstasy at a distance, not wanting to lose himself to it, just embracing the movement of her around him. With each dive down onto him she moans a little, each dip sending an extra shockwave over his skin, sending him over the edge of it. He tries to hold onto the feeling but it's too much, rising out of control. As he comes he grips her shoulder hard, gasping, letting go of a scream that echos round the crypt. She braces against him, holding on with her mouth, not letting go until his spasms die out.
She lets him go after what feels like hours, and he pulls her up and back into his lap, kissing her hard, tasting himself in her mouth. He positions her so she's straddling him, one arm wrapped tight around her waist. With the other he raises two fingers to the window.
That's right, I know you're still watching. Hope this keeps you up at night. I don't intend to get any sleep either.
She moves to take off her top and he grips her wrists, stopping her.
"Downstairs."
She moves off him and walks to the hole in the floor. He watches her for a little longer, tucking his cock back into his jeans, then gets up and shuts the crypt door completely, casting a last smirk towards the window, following her down to the basement.
At the bottom of the railing he lifts her up and throws her hard into the bed.
She knows the game, and throws a kick into his stomach. He laughs, catching her ankle as it lands, twisting her leg, forcing her onto her stomach. He's on her from behind in a second, one hand on her neck, the other pulls her top off and over her head, exposing soft peach coloured skin.
He wraps an arm underneath her and lifts her further up onto the bed, settling her head down against the pillows, moving her arms up next to her.
She moves an arm down, reaching for his leg but he grabs it hard by the wrist and pins it back down.
"That stays there, or I tie it down."
He rests himself down on her hips, running cool fingers up her spine, making her shiver. When his hand gets to her neck he moves her hair out of the way, stroking the skin of her shoulder, soft cold fingers, feathery touch. He settles a hand both sides of her neck, positioning his thumbs at the base, and digs in.
She screams underneath him.
"Too hard, luv?" She shakes her head, gasping. "Again?" She nods and he bears down, forcing his thumbs into her muscle. Her hands grip the covers, as his fingers drive into the flesh of her shoulders. Each time he finds a knot he pushes down hard and she howls from it as he pushes it out under his thumbs.
God, love when she screams like that.
He works his way further up her neck under the bass of the skull, pushing his fingers up over delicate bones into her hair, then back down, sweeping over her skin. His fingers trip over her jugular, feeling the blood inside her surging passed. He has a sudden desperate need to feel her pulse on his tongue.
He pushes his arms up underneath hers, gripping her wrists from behind, and with blunt teeth bites down over the soft spot on her neck, careful not to break the skin. It's so loud, deafening. From far away he can hear her moaning, writhing underneath him, and he bites a little harder, sucking her skin into his mouth. She's panting, her lungs like a wave underneath him. He grips her wrists tighter, not ready to let go. His tongue flicks over the skin trapped in his teeth, each time he hits a nerve he feels her buck against him.
He moves one of her arms up further so that he can pin both wrists in one hand. With his free hand he moves down, caressing her throat with his fingers, holding her against his mouth, feeling her breathing rattle against his hand. He moves further down, finding her breast. The vein between his teeth is like an ocean in his ears but he can still hear her gasping. He catches her nipple between his fingers, rolls across it, pinches hard before releasing it again, letting her catch her breath, playing with her until she's near the edge of endurance.
He finally pulls up off her shoulder, fingering the dark love bite he's left behind. Blotchy red with darker spots around the marks of his teeth where blood has nearly broken through the skin. He takes his hands from her wrists, sweeps her hair back from her neck and unfastens the gold hoops in her ears, leaving them on the nightstand. He wraps a hand gently around her throat, and runs his tongue up her ear, biting the cartilage, hard teeth clenching her lobe, catching the small hoop of her second piercing and pulling until just the edge of pain.
"Do you trust me?" He whispers, his breath tickling her ear.
She glances back at him with dazed eyes.
"...about as far as I can throw you."
He chuckles darkly, moves away from her, still straddling her hips, and she hears something clinking... Handcuffs clicking shut.
She moves to spin round but he's faster, closing the second cuff around her wrist, linking her left hand to his left hand.
"Gotcha now, Slayer."
She tries to turn round but he wraps his other arm round her waist, dragging her up off the bed, pushing her up into the headboard, shackled hand like an iron bar as she pulls against it, anchoring it to the wall.
With his unshackled hand he moves her loose arm up so that his chained one can grip her wrist. His free hand roams down over her front, cupping her breast, clawing her ribs, teeth biting the skin on her shoulders. His hand has reached her stomach, dipping lower. Deft fingers undo the button of her jeans, slides the zip down, pulling them lower onto her hips. He pushes her up onto the wall, icy brick on bare skin. He takes her free arm in his and forces it up and over, resting her hand on the back of his neck, anchoring it there with his hand on her bicep. She wriggles against the cold exposed brick wall, but he doesn't release the hold.
"Be a good girl. Keep your arm there, and I'll let you up off of the wall."
She grins back at him.
"You're such a pervert."
"You have no idea."
He takes his hand off her bicep and pushes them off the wall a little, bracing them with his arm, just enough so her skin isn't flush against it.
His chained hand wraps over hers, bringing it down onto her stomach, spreading her fingers out underneath his. He pushes the hand up onto her breast, squeezing down on her hand so the pressure echoes down onto her. A dark blush spreads across her cheeks and she pushes against him, but he just holds her tighter. Hands moving lower, his over hers, running down her ribs, stomach...
He moves his legs between hers, knees forcing hers apart.
Her fingers reach the edge of her lace underwear and she bucks against him.
"Spike-"
"Tell me to stop. We both know you don't want me to stop."
He moves her hand lower under the lace. She struggles back but his grip is like steel. He flattens her hand down over her pussy, curls her fingers down underneath, pushing them in against her lips, moving them slowly, stroking her with her own hand.
"Always knew you liked it dark, pet."
She gasps as he folds her fingers up, pushing a fingertip inside her.
"That's... not true."
"Very convincing. Did you used to touch yourself like this? Thinking of me?"
She starts to form the word no but he closes two of her fingers down over her clit, moving them in tight hard circles, feeling the flood in her start to drench them both, slow and hard, unrelenting pressure. She moans hard, panting, eyes closed, head arched back on his shoulder, hand gripping the back of his neck. Feeling the tendons there stand out, the tension rising in them both.
He increases the pressure, pushing her fingers down hard, taking them lower. Feels her shudder. She tries to close her legs but his knees push back against hers, forcing them wider still. Her thighs start to tremble from the effort of keeping upright, vibrating against him. The lace of her underwear is soaked and the scent of her is climbing into his mind like a fog.
He pulls his free arm off the wall, leaning back slightly so she doesn't end up back against the cold brick. He pulls her jeans down further onto the tops of her thighs. He fondles the lace of her underwear, rubbing it between his fingers before pulling it down. He moves his hand in between her legs from behind, fingers stroking her from the otherside, before slipping two digits inside her.
She cries out, hand coming up off his neck slamming into the wall, nearly pushing them both back, gulping down air as he fondles the folds inside her, twists deeper. She feels every nerve inside and out start to burn, little shoots of electricity, feeling his fingers inside of her, arching up and over and under. Not violent, just firm. His strength against her, with hers, singing out from behind her.
The sensation starts to overpower, making her dizzy from it. She tries to move her hand away, the chains clinking, but he squeezes it hard, pulling it back.
"Don't you dare."
His ear is against her neck and he can hear her heart start to pick up pace, can feeling her clit swelling under her own fingers. He thrusts his fingers in and out of her rhythmically, bearing down on her clit, feeling the pace of it making her melt. He kneads her, the heat of her warming his fingers,
"Spike..."
Can't wait any longer-
He pulls his fingers out of her, hand drenched. He undoes his jeans, releasing his cock, and pushes up into her.
The sudden depth of it sends her straight over the tipping point. She clenches down hard, screaming as she comes.
He wraps his free arm around her waist and pulls her backwards, letting them fall down together, slamming against the bed with her on top of him. He gets his boot up between her legs and kicks her jeans down the rest of the way freeing her legs, spreading them wider, pushing into her deeper from underneath. He moves her shackles hand up, pushing the fingers into his mouth, biting them. He grabs her free hand in his and moves it up into his shackled one, both of her hands now up above his head as she wriggles on top of him.
He wraps his free hand down on top of her pussy, pushing his middle finger in against her clit, grinding her, feeling himself slipping and out of her tight wet heat.
The smell of her, the taste of her, the feeling of her wrapped around him sets his mind on fire. He thrusts up into her slowly, painfully, teasing them both with the need to build up the power in them both.
She thrusts down against him, feeling him fill every space in, splitting her apart, making her his.
As she pushes down against him his resolve falls apart. The momentum starts growing desperate, yearning taking over control. He spins her down and underneath him, one cuffed hand on top of hers, the other on her waist, his chest flush against her back. He thrusts into her, feels her pushing back, claiming him in return, screaming into the bed quilt.
Every inch of her clenches on him, making him growl with every push.
He can feel the tension building back up in her, hear it roaring inside her, boiling her blood, burning him up. He can only just hear her screams over the sound of his own.
When she breaks he does, hot wet walls sucking him in, pulling him in.
His legs buckle and he collapses down on top of her, lying flush against her as they pull hard gulps of air down into the lungs.
Eventually he pulls out of her and climbs off, stroking her handcuffed hand with the back of his, catching his breath.
He realises she's watching him and he turns to meet her gaze.
Her breathing is ragged and her eyes look blazed.
"That... was..."
"Amazing."
"I was going to say degrading," she chuckles.
"No you weren't," he laughs, and she pulls her wrist against the cuffs.
"You have the key to these, right?"
"Somewhere... I'll find them when we're done."
"We're not done?"
"Not even close."