Breaking a Slayer

Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel. Quotes are from BtVS ep #26: "Innocence"

Distribution: Sure, just let me know.

Feedback: Is always nice.

Rating: NC-17.



Buffy felt like the worst coward, running from the two men who loved her the most in the world. Stupid, stupid girl. That's all you are…a girl. Leaving aside the fact that both were un-dead - and Spike's unrepentant evil streak - any woman would kill to be with either one of them, let alone both, and here you are alone in a cemetery hoping for demons. Idiot.

She knew they wouldn't hurt her. Knew with her head, that is. Her body, though…her body's most vivid sexual experience was no longer the one blissful night with Angel. She tried to cling to that beautiful memory, but sweaty human hands and hateful voices crept in, soiling her thoughts and turning erotic dreams to horrendous, unending, nightmares.

At least they had each other; she knew that now. She'd suspected before, that the demons, if not the men, drew a very fine line between fighting and foreplay. She was willing to bet that the line was nonexistent for Spike, from the way he'd reacted to her from the start. And looking at Angel with more experienced eyes, she was sure that if he didn't feel that way it was because he worked so hard to suppress all aspects of his vampiric nature near her. Ever since he'd vamped to game face while kissing her, he'd been ashamed and embarrassed to show her that side of himself. No matter how she reassured him that when she looked at him all she ever saw was Angel.

Oddly enough, neither Spike nor Angel felt threatening to her in game face these days. Perhaps that was the key to making this work, she'd just knock them around a little first, then screw them. *Yeah, right, Buffy…that'll solve ALL your problems.*

Those few moments with Angel when she had just let go, though. Oooh. She'd been too innocent to appreciate what a spectacular lover he was the night of her seventeenth birthday. He could wring responses from her body until she felt like a dishrag. And he'd apologized about it?!

The usual tingling stir in the pit of her stomach alerted Buffy to the rising of a fledgling nearby and she hastened to the grave where it originated. Before the hapless vampire had even crawled halfway out, she staked it expertly with a quick thrust to the chest. She pulled back and scanned the cemetery for the master of the now-dead minion, but there was nothing else to be seen. It had been a remarkably quiet night all around, and Buffy decided to head back to the mansion, hoping to avoid Angel and Spike until she could look them in the eyes again without blushing…like maybe in a century or so….

*

Spike had failed to find Buffy in any of the usual places. Everything had been so quiet that night, at least once he left the mansion. He still couldn't believe that he'd dodged a beating from Angel for touching his mate. A good shag, now, he'd never complain about that, except to his pouf of a sire. He was pretty sure that Angel knew exactly how much of that was bluster, anyway.

Stalking through the tangled garden behind the mansion, Spike was caught off guard mid-thought when he was knocked to the ground by a sharp kick to the head. Growling and in game face, he shook his head to clear it, then rolled to spring upon whatever foe had attacked him. "What the fuck?" Suddenly a soft weight pushed him to the ground, straddling his groin as a tiny mouth kissed the rapidly growing bruise on his left cheek.

"Spike, I'm so sorry, I felt a vamp, I didn't know it was you. I thought you and Angel were both still at home. Are you ok?" Buffy leaned in closer, all the more enticing because she had no idea what she was doing to him. She caressed his forehead ridges gently, staring into his golden eyes for a moment, startled a bit when he morphed back to his handsome human features mid caress.

"Mmmm, don’t stop, Slayer, that feels bloody fine. Oh, I mean, OW! My bloody skull is splitting…keep rubbing and I'll get over the pain faster…yeah…oh, yeah, Luv!" Spike could barely keep from purring at Buffy's gentle touch. She'd never stroked him, never really touched him except in anger. The Slayer was glorious in battle, all heat and fire, calling to him and burning him in the same moment. If anything, though, she was more terrifying when she was gentle with him. He was losing his heart to her without a struggle.

Buffy smiled down at him for a moment, still stroking his head with soft touches. Then she frowned, "Wait a minute, Spike. I didn't kick you *that* hard. I've hurt you lots worse than that before." She shifted as if to rise, but he grabbed her hips and held her there, lurching up to brush a light kiss across her silky lips.

"Don't leave, Pet. I won't hurt you. Just give us a kiss to make the pain go away. Please?" he wheedled, giving her his best flashing baby blues combined with little boy charm face, perfected from over a century of flirting.

Buffy looked uncertain, but Spike wasn't above begging. He nipped ever-so-gently at her chin with tiny biting kisses, then moved his cool hands to her neck, stroking just a bit before angling her face down so he could kiss those delectable lips. "Mmmmmm, Pet, you taste like vanilla and smell like sunshine. More, please?" he groaned, catching her mouth with another exquisitely gentle kiss.

Buffy sighed and relaxed on top of him, calmed by her dominant position and his playful mood. With Angel, things always got sok, ek, even love was passionate and downright moody. Spike, though, Spike looked positively merry at the moment, his luscious mouth curled in a tempting smile. She pressed more kisses onto it, opening her mouth just a touch to lick at his with a tentative tongue.

Spike groaned, no longer flippant, and opened to her, stroking his cold tongue against her teeth before delving further into the scalding recesses of her mouth. She was an inferno to him, a forest fire blazing dangerously out of control. She was death to his kind, yet called to him like some incandescent goddess of pain. He could never have enough of her. Bloody moth, that's what he was.

Her kiss turned more demanding at the same moment he growled low in his throat and moved his hands to stroke her breasts. *She has on too many damn clothes,* he thought, and ripped her sweatshirt off over her head with one graceful pull.

*Wow, he's good at that,* Buffy thought distractedly, *didn't even pull my hair.* Then all thoughts fled her mind as Spike's skillful fingers found her breasts and stroked their curves teasingly. His callused thumbs glided over her nipples, their roughness catching slightly he hhe hardening points. He stroked again, harder this time, but carefully gauging his caresses to her responses, unwilling to frighten her away.

Buffy moaned in abandon and arched into Spike's talented hands, grinding on him through their jeans with tiny, unconscious circles of her powerful hips. Now it was Spike's turn to groan as he felt her blistering heat through at least three layers of cloth. "Gods, Slayer, you're so hot. Please, Pet, may I?" His hands moved to her waistband and he hesitated, unsure of what she was offering and unwilling to harm her in any way.

"Yes, Spike," she hissed, standing, trapped in the whirlwind of desire in which he'd entangled her and needing more sensation to drown out the cautionary scream of the Slayer deep inside her. Close proximity to a vampire, any vam, ke, kept her on edge at all times…as her internal warnings and cognition united to face the threat. That *this* vampire wasn't a threat, at least not to her life, was not something her body or reactions could assimilate. It was the same with Angel.

But Spike's surprisingly gentle hands on her body channeled the Slayer-reaction into something altogether different, just as Angel's passionate possessiveness had earlier. Switching her adrenaline rush of fight or flight into ardent response, Spike pulled Buffy's jeans and underwear off with abandon, immediately returning to the prize standing naked before his worshipful eyes. He coaxed her back down to the soft grass with lingering touches and kisses on the backs of her knees, her jutting hip, and the tender small of her back.

He stroked her body with care, lingering on the curve of her neck and the slight swell of her flat belly before drifting lower to the slender, muscular thighs that he'd so long dreamed of parting. Buffy lay back in the cool grass, surrendering to the exquisite feeling engulfing her being, content for the moment to revel in her lover's masterful care.

*

Angel skulked in the shadows of the crumbling granite archway, golden eyes fixed on the decadent sight of his mate and his childe locked in a passionate embrace. A low rumbling growl issued from his chest as he fought his demonic urge to either rip them to shreds or join them in a violent tangle of blood and sex. *Neither response will help Buffy…I have to think of Buffy,* he panted unnecessarily, desperately reaching for control. The sight of her flushed naked body filled him with need, a need that must go unassuaged if they were all to live. *Angelus will NOT control me. I am NOT just a demon. I have a soul, I have a soul, I have a soul.* He chanted the familiar litany in his mind, clutching it to his battered soul like a well-worn rosary and remaining in the shadows, ever-watchful of his love and his childe.

*

Spike heard his Sire in the shadows and spared a few dazzled brain cells to wonder if he was about to die the true death. Ah, well, what a way to ge kie kissed his way down Buffy's neck, lingering for a moment at Angel's renewed mark and flicking it lightly with his tongue. Buffy moaned and clutched his head to her, writhing against him in anguished need. The guttural growl in the shadows intensified for a moment; Spike wisely moved his mouth lower, lapping at the Slayer's beautiful breasts instead.

She arched her hips and Spike gladly complied with her silent request, stoking the Slayer's fires with nimble fingers. His heart would be pounding right now, if it could, of this he was certain. She was the goddess Aphrodite underneath him, all womanly curves and delicate skin, her silken essence flowing from that desperate place inside her where he longed to be. Still, Spike held frantically to a bare thread of caution. *Can't hurt her…have to go slow…somehow,* he thought, worried that he was rushing her fences. *Gods and giants, you ponce,* he snarked at himself, *can't you stop sounding like a poufy English gentleman even in your bloody head? 'Rushing her fences' indeed -- what is she, a brood mare on a fox hunt?*

Spike focussed his shattered concentration back on the task at hand. *Oh, what a glorious task indeed,* he thought. Not that any task could be so sweet as what lay sprawled in heady abandon before him. Spike kissed her thighs gently and spread them apart, pressing lingering kisses up and down the sensitive skin. Buffy groaned in response and pushed against his hands.

"Spike, please, please…" her voice trailed off into another sigh as he leaned forward and took his first tentative taste of her glorious sex. He purred against her lustfully, thanking demons and gods alike for this chance at the death goddess of his kind. *She is heaven, Angel is right,* he thought. The power in her blood was equally present in her sex and the savory taste of her cunt was extraordinary to him. Game face surfaced as the sweet, salty tang…like blood, only different…rich with her lust aeed,eed, called him to drink at the font. He did, plunging his cold, wet tongue deep into the fiery hole before him and using the last measure of his control to keep from sinking an aching fang into her engorged clit and sucking it dry of blood.

Buffy shrieked her satisfaction to the night sky, unaware of her mate's possessive eyes locked on her rosy body from the shadows, unaware of anything save the heady bursts of pleasure that Spike gave to her as he tongued and sucked over and over until she could no longer count the crests and falls of ecstasy he imparted. Nearly spent, Buffy pulled him away from her pussy, and he snarled at her for a moment, unwilling to leave, before he controlled himself.

Buffy pulled herself slowly to a sitting position and reached for the buttons of Spike's jeans. He stopped her, putting both hands on hers and looked deeply into her eyes with his golden ones. "Luv," he growled, "you don't have to let me…I don't have to." He morphed back to human face with difficulty, looking shockingly young and innocent for a man who was licking her juices off his lips with such relish. "Pet, I don't want to hurt you. If you're not ready…" he shuddered, trying to control his desire to jump on her and ram his aching cock into her hot, wet cunt.

"Spike," Buffy smiled into his now-blue eyes. "I want you. Please fuck me. Now!" She pulled at his jeans with unskilled fingers and he reached to help her, standing for a moment and ripping them from his body before crouching to crawl up her waiting body. "Going commando, Spikey," she teased, then gasped as he rubbed his hard, white cock against her throbbing clit.

"Buffy," he moaned as he slid slowly home into her waiting channel. She gasped and he stopped, hovering above her in concern, afraid he'd hurt her.

"Oh, Spike, don't stop, please, don't stop," she sighed, thrusting upwards with her hips to engulf every inch of his long, thick cock.

He eased slowly out of her until nothing but the tip was sheltered in her cave, then pushed back into her, groaning at the heat that enveloped him. She was so wet, so blindingly hot that he thought he might go mad if he stayed much longer in her silken folds. He rocked against her, pulling out then thrusting back in slowly, then faster as she responded with untutored but passionate thrusts of her own up against him.

Spike pushed in a little farther, until he was fully seated within Buffy's body and felt a new sensation, a powerful, throbbing, quivering pull drawing him even deeper into her. "Gods, what the hell?" he gasped. No woman's orgasm had ever felt like this before to him. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't stop moving as he thrust again and again into her. She cried out in climax, pulling him with her over the edge, and he plummeted, falling into nearly painful pleasure as he came in aching bursts within her grasping cunt.

He collapsed on her, spent, and barely holding his weight off her deceptively delicate looking frame as he gazed in wonder at the goddess beneath him. "Slayer, are you trying to bloody kill me?" he drawled, pulling reluctantly out of her and reaching one gentle hand to stroke the sweaty hair from her flushed face.

Buffy opened her eyes and flinched away from him, looking painfully shy. "I'm sorry," she said, not meeting his eyes and looking around wildly for her clothes. "I know I'm not any good…I'm sorry." She grabbed for her sweatshirt and clutched it to her in embarrassment.

"Not…good?" Spike was speechless. How could she possibly think she was anything but fantastic, mind-blowing, sensational, miraculous? Flabbergasted, he just stared at her for a moment, unknowingly confirming her worst fears.

Tears rose to Buffy's eyes as one look at Spike's face revealed the truth to her. It wasn't just Angelus being cruel…she really was bad. She could still hear his words echoing through her head even now…

*

She'd been so worried, so afraid that the Judge had killed him. When she saw him in the apartment, she ran to him in relief, hugging him tight to her.

"Ohhh. Oh, my God!" she hugged his half-naked body closer, "I was freaking out! You just disappeared."

Angel pushed her away and strode to his bed to grab his shirt. "What? I took off."

Buffy was confused. "But you didn't say anything. You just left."

Angel pulled on his shirt and sneered at her. "Yeah. Like I really wanted to stick around after that."

Buffy was unsure what he'd just said, surely he couldn't mean…"What?" she asked in confusion.

Angel looked down at her, "You got a lot to learn about men, kiddo. Although I guess you proved that last night."

Buffy was shocked that he could mock her innocence as he seemed to be doing. "What are you saying?"

Angel sneered at her, "Let's not make an issue out of it, okay?" He paced to his coat, "In fact, let's not talk about it at all." He pulled his coat on and made a face. "It happened."

Buffy could only stand there, stunned. "I, I don't understand. Was it m-me?" She searched his face for any hint of the tender lover of the night before. "Was I not good?" she asked, her stomach sinking as she realized that was what he was trying to tell her.

Angel laughed in her face, "You were great. Really. I thought you were a pro," he added snidely.

Buffy looked up at him in shock, "How can you say this to me?" Her heart was breaking.

Angel laughed at her. "Lighten up. It was a good time. It doesn't mean that we have to make a big deal."

Buffy felt like she was dying inside at each additional word from Angel's lips, "It *is* a big deal!"

He mocked her again, "It's what? Bells ringing, fireworks, a dulcet choir of pretty little birdies?" He laughed good naturedly, "Come on, Buffy. It's not like I've never been there before." He'd reached to chuck her under the chin like some stupid child and she'd jerked away.

"Don't touch me," she said, too crushed to even think straight.

Angel shook his finger at her and tsked disapprovingly. "I should've known you wouldn't be able to handle it."

*

Buffy jumped to her feet and grabbed the rest of her clothes, clutching them to her like a shield. "I'm sorry, Spike. I'm really sorry," she broke down into tears at the sight of his shocked face and ran into the mansion, sidestepping the shadowy figure of Angel who she only now noticed in the archway. He had seen her humiliation too, intimately witnessed both of her inadequate attempts at lovemaking. How could she ever face either of them again after this night? Buffy raced to her room and locked the door before sinking to the floor and sobbing as if her heart had broken again.

To be continued…