Sometime after Where The Wild Things Are...
"Someday, sweet Slayer," Spike crooned as he brushed a wave of hair back from her face, his fingers caressing her cheek as he tucked it behind her ear, "I would love to take you on."
Buffy didn't miss a beat—nor the longing look in his eyes—and wasted no time wrapping her fingers into the lapel of his jacket. She thrust him back so hard she heard something dislodge inside the crypt behind him. "Take me on, then," she goaded, pinning him with her forearm flat against his chest. "Not to be all A-Ha about it."
He grinned, despite it not being her best quip (though miles better than "big bleached stupid guy"), and she could feel her pupils dilating with anticipation as he curled a tongue around an incisor. Her blood fizzed with the impending thrill, over-eager now that Jonathan wasn't blocking her way. So much so she didn't even question the retake.
He was still smiling wickedly when his fangs dropped. The sharp angles of his face furrowed into something demonic and feline, violence personified, his brilliant blue eyes exploding into yellow.
He threw himself at her, but she was ready for it, dodging the downward lunge of his teeth towards her throat and blocking with a backhand. It didn't phase him even for a second, bouncing back like a rubber ball and throwing a punch so hard across her jaw she felt her bones squeak against each other.
There was no roar of pain from him, no doubling over and clutching his head, and a flare of excitement fireworked in her chest because she wanted it, wanted a real fight for her life, not just a workout.
God, please, I'm dying for a showdown…
Honestly, it was like the Sunnydale undead weren't even trying anymore. There was no fire, no adrenaline anymore. No racing pulse from dancing with a monster, as ashamed as she was of herself for missing that.
But Spike…
There was seemingly endless adrenaline connected to winning a round off of him. Such a power trip to bring that smug self-satisfaction down a half-peg. It was addicting, and she hadn't been anywhere near getting her fix from their snippy verbal back and forths and the odd punch to his face.
No, she wanted a war. Needed one. Needed some release. Frustrations and manipulations had been mounting and mounting and if she didn't exorcize them with her fists they were going to poison her inside and out; Willow's will gone wrong, Riley's Faith-filled unfaithfulness, Jonathan's reality-altering mind games, and spooky haunted house aphrodisiacs—
Can't I be behind the wheel of my own body for longer than a week!? I mean, hello!? Really not signing up for the carpool lane here!
Her thoughts briefly distracted her from the backhand rocketing towards her face and as she sprawled against a headstone Spike's triumphant chuckle burned her ears.
"Always were my favorite toy, pet." He grinned as she straightened up. "Like a perky little rubber ball… No one bounces around quite like you."
She knocked his head back with a steel-armed jab to his nose. "How's that for perky?" she bit back, and followed through with an uppercut and a backhand, basking in the glow of tension melting just a fraction before ducking his kick as he whirled up. She didn't anticipate the sucker punch he chased it with, however, and stumbled back.
She righted herself only to receive another kick aimed at the center of her chest, sending her backward over the gravestone.
Something ripped. Buffy sat up, checking her shoulder and finding a large tear over the shoulder of her leopard print coat, the sleeve only attached by an inch of fabric.
"Oh, you are so gonna pay for that," she growled, shrugging out of the ruined coat now stained with grave-dirt, and beyond hope anyway.
Spike chuckled as he swung a leg up and over the gravestone that she still had one calf propped up on.
"Bloody ugly coat, pet," he snickered as she back-shuffled along the grass."You look better without it." He dropped onto his knees, straddling her stomach as he regarded her with a tilt of his head. "Been thinking that a lot as of late, actually."
Buffy snorted. "Like I'm about to take fashion advice from you; owner of all of two outfits." She took hold of the neckline of his t-shirt in one hand and without any effort whatsoever, ripped a tear down to his sternum. "Oops. One," she corrected herself with a smirk.
"Bitch." He scowled murderously, but she was already balling her fist. She punched him hard enough to send him rolling into the grass, his lip split on his own teeth. She sprang back onto her feet as he reared up, fist flying. He landed a punch across her eye and as she shook her head to rid it of the stars in her vision he got hold of the front of her blouse, dragging her close.
He shoved her back with his closed fist—still holding onto the fabric covering her chest—and yanked her to a sudden stop like a yoyo on a string, splitting the back of her top with a loud rip and leaving a jagged gash from collarbone to rib across the front.
"Oooh, racy." He leered at the sight of the black lace bra she honestly couldn't remember putting on. Or owning. He chuckled when her head snapped up with a venomous glare. "Wasn't expecting that. Dressing in my colors, are we?"
"In your dreams," she hissed, even as the thought made her skin tingle, the flesh beneath the lace pebbling and not just from the cold air lapping her exposed torso. She barely felt the cold the way her blood was starting to pound in her veins and her skin was starting to burn.
She hit him hard enough to send a shockwave up to her shoulder, but not hard enough to wipe the grin from his face as he effortlessly blocked another punch and returned it with a crack across her jaw
"Oh, no doubt, honey," he snickered, catching her arm as her fist barrelled towards his eye. He spun her in a half circle, pushing her back against the crypt, his human features slipping effortlessly back into place.
Buffy arched up to get away from the sensation of cold stone, unthinkingly closing the distance between herself and Spike as he pinned her hands by her head.
With a low snicker that dripped with sinful intentions, he ground his hips against her thighs. Buffy's eyes fluttered closed for a moment as the bulge in his jeans grazed her mound, teasingly close to sensitive flesh that had been begging for a little friction since the beginning of their fight.
She had enough control not to moan but that didn't stop the clench in her throat she was forced to swallow as he leaned to whisper in her ear. "Different this time though."
And it was different. Very different. Something was pushing the flood of endorphins from their brawl higher, orchestrating the situation until she was aching with very specific instincts that the animal part of her brain was practically salivating to turn into a reality. Ones that a Sane-Daytime-Buffy would have a major problem wrapping her head around.
Instincts that sounded very much like—
Want.
Take.
Have.
And yet that memory didn't send her reeling like it should have done. Didn't snap her out of the reverie from the sight of Spike's pale chest all but glowing in the moonlight, too distracted by the feel of his fingers wrapped around her wrists to break free of them. She stifled a yelp as his body flattened over hers and crushed her back against the frigid wall, her legs awkwardly split around him, muscles tense from keeping her pinned. The heat between her legs was linked this time to a surge of rebellion.
But something about his words had caught her attention.
"This time?" she asked, gasping as he dipped his head and licked a trail up her neck to her ear. How could there be a 'this time' without there being a last time?
"Here with you," he murmured against her skin, dragging his teeth down to her artery, chuckling as she shivered against his lips. "Tasting you an' all. Hot salt… sweet scent… that's new…"
"I—uuh—" Any questions she might've had died on her tongue as he squeezed her wrists tight enough to restrict blood flow for a second or two while pressing his thigh against the crux of her legs, pushing her up into him.
"Were you expecting another kind of rough and tumble, Slayer?" he purred as he scraped his teeth across the strap of her bra. "All you had to do was ask."
Buffy shook her head, stiffening when the action caused her cheek to come into contact with his hair.
"I'd never ask you," she rasped, but her hips met his briefly, rolling against him as her eyes fluttered closed for a second.
"Would you just take?" he chuckled, his fingers releasing her wrists slipping up to twine with hers. Another drag of his thigh against her core had her up on her tiptoes. "Take me then."
Her eyes flashed to his in disbelief. "You want me to?"
He nodded. "Bloody want you to." A sour chuckle tumbled from his lips, sounding just shy of awed. "I'll cop to it. Been thinking about this for a while."
"About…?" she managed around the lack of air between them.
"You," he clarified with a growl. "Wake up, Slayer, where did you think this was heading?"
When she didn't answer—only opened and closed her mouth in a perfect caricature of bewilderment—his nostrils flared impatiently and he pressed a bruising kiss over her mouth, sucking her lip between his teeth and sinking his incisors into the flesh trapped there. Buffy groaned even as he nearly broke skin, almost had her blood in his mouth, and fought him back with her own lips, biting just as hard.
"Spike—"
He pulled back panting, a smile flickering at the edges of a look of hard-won satisfaction. "How's the song go, luv?" he chuckled, sucking the blood off his lip from the cut her kiss had reopened. "It's no better to be safe than sorry."
A hot and inexplicable flare of possessiveness seized hold of her. Not content to be just the receiving party in whatever this was turning into.
She twisted a hand out of his fingers, and with the flat of her forearm against the back of his neck, dragged him down to her mouth again, her fingers curling over his shoulder. With his free hand, he clawed down her side, shredding the rest of her top with his blunt nails until the only thing keeping it in place was the wall at her back and his chest pressed to her front.
He muttered a curse that sounded like praise around their kiss when she nearly bit his tongue.
"Come on, Buffy," he sneered as he ripped the last shreds of her top away from her. "Hurt me proper, now."
Buffy scoffed, shaking her head, but didn't pause in dragging his duster off his arms and tearing the rest of his shirt over his head. "That's sick."
"That's us, sweetheart." He bent his head to her jugular and without preamble caught her in his jaws, squeezing just shy of breaking skin as she screamed and lurched up into him, liquid heat boiling her insides. He pulled back with a suck that hurt almost as much as the bite. "That's always been us."
His hand wound its way into her hair to keep her neck taut, laving his tongue over the indents his teeth left behind.
Whatever was stoking the fire between them overtook her. The primal part of her brain wanted to lay claim to him as much as he was to her.
If he wants it to hurt… she thought with smug ferocity.
She scratched a hand down his bare side, leaving deep welts behind from her nails, and he hissed in pleasure against her skin. He shifted his hips back to make room for her hand as she slid it between them, taking hold of his belt and working it through the buckle in uncaringly artless tugs.
She fumbled at his jeans button until he batted her hand out of the way and undid it himself. He kissed ferociously, a distraction from the bridge about to be crossed, and Buffy relaxed a little that he wasn't pinning her with a smug look of over-satisfaction at the position they found themselves in. She worked her hand between his stomach and the denim of his jeans, focusing on the panting breaths he was exhaling through his nose like he needed the extra oxygen to keep a hold of himself, growling thickly as her hand enveloped the rigid flesh between them.
He was larger than she'd thought he'd be, filling her hand, his engorged tip brushing over the sensitive skin of her lower belly, pushing the covetous burn that was starting to rage inside her into a full fire.
"Bloody hell," he whispered against her mouth as she squeezed tighter than she'd ever dared to with Riley, relishing the way his soft skin slid over a core as hard as iron. She slipped her hand down to the base of him before squeezing again in a stroke that enveloped his tip. She supposed he liked it from the way he bucked into her palm, his eyes fluttering shut as he braced his hands against the wall by her head. She didn't really care if he didn't. Soft, sweet, breathy discussions over likes and dislikes were something that happened between boyfriends, girlfriends, doting couples... Whatever they had right now, it wasn't that.
Spike groaned again as she pumped him with punishing drags of her fingers. "Can—Christ, can feel you," he huffed out, leaning closer.
Buffy's brow furrowed, but she didn't stall. "Obviously."
He chuckled breathlessly, his mouth framing a reply with a sly grin before whatever he was going to elaborate on choked off as she stroked the pad of her thumb beneath the head of his cock, repeating the action as his hips joined in the sway. She watched him for a while; the tendons in his neck taut, eyes closed as he breathed erratically, not keeping normal tempo and sometimes forgetting to completely. His mouth slightly parted in raptured awe. She tightened her grip on him and his head fell back with a surrendering grunt before she fisted her hand in his hair and dragged his lips to hers.
"Buffy," he gasped as he lowered a hand to her stomach and popped the button on her slacks, tugging them down lower onto her upper thighs. He brought his fingers to his mouth and wetted his index, middle, and thumb before reaching down between her legs, sliding down into the twitching heat building there.
He brushed aside her underwear, pried her apart, and sunk two digits into her, all the way to the knuckle, slickened by his spit and her already evident need, catching her mouth with a brutal kiss. Buffy groaned into his mouth, canting her hips to gain friction against the palm of his hand.
"That's right," he crooned and added his thumb to her clit, matching the rhythm of her hips with swirling slick circles, working her up into a lightheaded delirium, her walls clenching tight around his fingers. "Show me what you need, luv."
Buffy let out a shivery breath and didn't overthink the fact that what she wanted was him. Him now. Him inside, nothing else would be enough.
"Move your hand away," she gasped, and when he obliged she grazed his erection against her, grinding his tip against her clit, holding him there as he cursed and bit her neck, her ear, her mouth.
He stepped back for a second, unlatching her hand so he could push her slacks and underwear down and off her ankles, ripping off her boots and socks before surging up, and lifting her by the thighs.
Pinned to the stone wall, she could do nothing but widen her legs, hook her calves around his hips, and angle herself towards him as he lined with her core, screaming as she sank onto him.
"Spike—!" she arched up, shocked from the sudden overwhelming fullness, the near painful stretch.
"Take it, Buffy," he growled, raising her nearly off him before letting her fall back down, seating himself even deeper inside her and settling into a bruising rhythm that all but stopped the air in her lungs. "There's a good girl."
She panted and groaned, and bit him as hard as he was biting her, kissing him and tasting the blood in his mouth from his split lip.
Her pulse raced, drowning out the symphony of flesh against flesh with a wet bassline that almost deafened her, that she could feel throbbing in her chest and at her neck. She didn't protest when he set his teeth over her artery, bucking to the percussion of her heart like he was hypnotized, and dragging her towards the dizzying heights of release.
OhGodOhGodOhGod—
When she came it was like falling from a building; several heartbeats of a weightlessness that seemed eternal before being slammed hard over the edge with a shocked howl, her teeth sinking into his shoulder as she rode through it.
"Fuck!" he growled, chasing her orgasm with his own, crushing her against the mausoleum wall. "Oh, fuck me," he murmured again, sinking into her to take some of the weight off his legs. He let out a stunned chuckle that tickled her hairline. "Pretty good dream."
Buffy drew in air with difficulty, winding her arms around his shoulders, clinging pathetically, not wanting to be put down. "I don't think I can walk."
"Poor kitten," Spike murmured and pressed kisses down her neck, infinitely more tender than the rest of the evening had been. "Want me to—" He stopped suddenly. "Oi, what the—" His head lifted from her shoulder with a jerk, staring off to the side of the graveyard. "Friend of yours, Slayer?"
Buffy turned her head and caught sight of something watching.
Someone, she realized with a start, though the shadows were an odd shape until they stepped forward into the glow of a streetlight. Huge horns framed their face, thick and curled like a ram's, and dark red like their skin. Like the suit draped over their heavily muscled form.
The figure leaned against the gate, tucking their hands into their trouser pockets, and grinned in satisfaction, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight—
Buffy awoke with a lurch, the startled scream dying on her lips as the taste of Spike on her tongue evaporated with the dream, the cool burn of his skin against hers dwindling into a feverish chill and leaving an aftertaste that wasn't anywhere near close enough to revulsion as she would have wanted.
"Oh my God," she gasped. "Oh, God…"
"You okay?" Riley mumbled from beside her, his eyes still closed as he shifted onto his side, arm tucked beneath his pillow.
Buffy jerked—having forgotten he was asleep next to her—and swallowed down the horror clogging her throat. "Y-yeah! Fine!" she stuttered, acutely aware of the wet heat between her legs, the dwindling glow of an orgasm fading… "Uh, just… weird dreams. Go back to—"
But he was already snoring lightly, back in the realms of deep sleep.
AN: Thank you endlessly to my wonderful beta's RavenLove12 and Doublemeat Palace, and to CD85 who provided the miraculous, jaw dropping banner-prompt (available on EF only)
Chapter title: Take On Me, A-Ha