Shot in the Dark

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Chapter 36: Not Now
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Spike turns on Buffy’s doorstep, letting her unlock her front door from her perch hanging over his shoulder. When she gets the key turned, he spins back around and kicks the door open before stepping inside. Something about carrying a girl over a threshold shoots through his brain, but is quickly derailed by a sharp pain in his rear end.

“Did you just pinch me, pet?” His voice is incredulous.

“Maybe.” Buffy is nearly breathless from being carried like a sack of potatoes for the last ten blocks.

“You do realize that I have you in a most precarious position, right, Slayer?”

Buffy ignores his question and counters with one of her own. “Remember the last time you carried me home, Spike?” Her voice is softer and Spike feels a sensation akin to his heart skipping. If it could.

“Yeah, luv. I remember.” Spike shakes his head slightly. Could it have only been just a few nights ago that he carried the wounded Slayer back to her bed? On a night that ended in the frantic consummation of their lustful feelings? He chuckles, realizing why Buffy brought this up. “Pinched me on the ass that night too.” Spike feels Buffy’s body shake on his shoulder as she laughs.

“Well, can you blame a girl? I mean, it’s too bad you can’t get a look back here…but trust me on this one - very very pinch-able.” As if to prove her point, Buffy gives Spike’s denim-clad rear another solid grab.

“’Ey! Watch how hard you grab with that Slayer strength. Gonna leave little bruises all over my bum.” Spike grabs Buffy by the waist and pulls her off his shoulder, letting her body slowly drag down his until her feet hit the floor. With a backwards kick of his leg, he closes the door behind them. The front hall is only lit by sparse moonlight filtering through the windows.

Buffy sways for a minute, waiting for the blood to rush out of her head and back into the rest of her. When she can focus her eyes, she moves back closer to Spike, a whisper of air separating them. She tilts her head back so she can look up into his eyes, dark in this light.

Her voice is soft and warm, tickling his skin. “You know what else I remember from that night, Spike? When you carried me?”

Buffy pauses and Spike continues to watch her closely, knowing he doesn’t need to answer her. Buffy’s hands slide up his leather covered arms slowly. “I remember how good it felt to be in these arms. How safe and warm I felt.” She swallows, lowering her eyes to follow the path of her hands. Spike slowly puts his arms around her, still silent. Buffy tilts her head to the side, looking back up at her lover. “I remember something else from that night.”

A few seconds later, Spike speaks, his voice soft and thick with emotion in the darkened hall. “What’s that, Buffy?” She feels his fingers move slowly on her back, lightly skating over her shirt.

Buffy’s face undergoes a transformation, eyebrows raising, mouth twitching into an expression of mischief, eyes twinkling with ideas that would make her mother blush. “I remember how bad I wanted you.” Meeting Spike’s eyes for a second, she leans forward and presses a kiss onto the bare skin where his shirt is open. Her second kiss is on the side of his neck. The third just below his ear. Her voice is honeyed, muffled by her kiss to his jawline. “Real real bad.” Buffy’s blunt teeth move down to slowly sink into Spike’s neck, quickly followed by one slow lick of her tongue. From the corner of her eye, she sees Spike’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. She jumps when his hands clamp around her upper arms, startling her with his strength, with the tightness of his grip. Her eyes jump to his. The look in his eyes alone makes her instantly wet. Buffy can see the muscles in his neck tighten as he just barely maintains control.

“You think you wanted me bad that night, Slayer?” His voice is dangerously deep, sending Buffy’s heart racing. “Do you have any idea what I went through when I carried you home?” She shakes her head mutely. Spike’s hands release their death grip on her arms and slowly glide down her skin. “Had this delicously warm, soft body right up against my chest, your heartbeat slow and steady, pulsing. Your strong little hands running all over me, your body shaking against mine when you laughed. Made me want to throw you down in the middle of the bloody street and rip your clothes off like an animal.”

Buffy’s eyes widen at Spike’s matter of fact admission. Somehow she had never thought of what that night was like for Spike, of when she passed out in his arms after the vamp attack. He is right, she was flirtatious and vulnerable on that walk. Before she fell unconscious, of course. She is drawn out of her memory by a loud ripping sound. Buffy looks down to find her shirt torn down the middle, hanging open. She looks back up with a smirk as Spike tries and fails to look apologetic.

“Sorry, luv. I just...couldn’t help myself.” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Only fair, Spike. Think of the recent damage I’ve done to your wardrobe.” Her eyes dance, thoughts of the naughty persuasion filling them. “So what else did you want to do to me that night? Hmm?” Buffy’s hands come up to pull the tatters of her shirt down and off, leaving her in just a tight black bra.

Spike’s hands instantly go to her bare skin, pressing into the flesh just b her her neck, feeling the rapid pace of her heart under his right palm.

“Wanted to…I wanted…” Buffy hears the growl slip into his speech and sees the flecks of gold dancing in his deep blue eyes. His fingertips dig into her skin as his face tries to transform. Spike shakes it off, body trembling with effort and a healthy dose of fear.

Reading his mind, Buffy reaches up and brushes against his cheek, remembering one more detail about that night. “It was the blood, wasn’t it? You remember the smell of my blood from where I got hurt.” Spike nods, clearly not trusting his voice, his eyes locked onto the pulsing artery in her neck. Buffy moves into him, her body grazing his, the cold leather making her fight down a shiver. “Sweet sweet Slayer blood, am I right?” Without waiting for a reply, she tilts her head to the side, exposing the tiny scars where Spike tasted her a few days before. Spike’s hands shake, his eyes now darting from her neck to her eyes. Buffy’s voice continues, hypnotic, one finger trailing down her bare neck. “Intoxicating.” Spike’s gaze follows the trail her finger is burning, dropping between her breasts. “Warm. Powerful.” Suddenly, Spike’s hand comes down to cover hers, his cool fingers brushing Buffy’s chest.

“No, luv. Wasn’t the blood. Mind you, the blood was tempting, but no. The thing I wanted that was intoxicating,” His hand moves to cup her breast, applying gentle pressure. “Warm,” The other hand slides up to touch the side of her face. “And powerful…was you.”

Buffy feels a quiver of excitement from deep in her core at his words, at his voice dripping with sex and passion and most importantly, love. She knew she was more than a delicious treat to him, but it doesn’t hurt to hear it. Now he gets the reward. “But you still want the blood, eh, sweetie?” Her smile is dazzling and Spike feels a surge of emotion he is still growing used to. This side of her is so new to him. The playful, naughty flirt. She hides it well most of the time. Buffy stands on her tiptoes, pressing against him, her breasts trapping his hand between their bodies. Her voice drops to a throaty whisper on her next words. “I mean, you still really want it, right?” Her breath on his face is hot and sweet and Spike feels the bloodthirst surge to the forefront again, battling his lust for dominance.

“God, Buffy. Do you have any idea what you do t?”
?”

Buffy rolls her hips against his, feeling the obvious bulge in his pants. She continues to smile. “I’m starting to get an idea.” Spike rolls his neck, flexing the muscles in his jaw, her movements just about the end of his self-control.

“Slayer.” The voice is almost a warning. He swallows, pulling himself down into a semblance of calm. “Buffy.” Spike closes his eyes, fighting his more animalistic urges, then reopens them to find Buffy’s green eyes hooded and penetrating.

“Don’t fight it, Spike. You know I love you, don’t you?” She nods her head, coaxing Spike into nodding with her. Her fingers play with the buttons on his shirt, slowly popping them open as she talks. One hand slides under the fabric, caressing his chest. “And if I love you, I must love all of you…right? Even the lumpies and the pointy teeth?” She nods again and Spike once again follows her lead. “I mean, I’m no logician…logicist…or um, logic guy, but that makes sense to me. Okay, so stay with me on with this one. You listening?” Buffy puts one finger under Spike’s chin, drawing his glazed eyes into hers. Another nod. “And you love me, right?”

Spike finally finds his voice, gravelly and rough. “You know I do, Slayer.”

“Stands to reason that you would love my blood too, then. I mean, hello, vampire.” Buffy spreads Spike’s shirt apart, letting the bare skin of her torso kiss against his. She leans in, presses her hot lips to his chest, moves up towards his neck with tiny little nips of her teeth. “So, if I’m offering, I suggest you take. Got it?” Her last nip is sharp against his neck, her teeth nearly meeting as they catch his flesh. Spike jumps a little and feels his self-control dissolve. Her words and her breathtaking presence has done him in.

With a fierce growl and the beginnings of his game face, Spike wraps one arm around Buffy’s back, lifting her off the ground and holding her against him. Buffy is triumphant, having successfully drawn out the demon that, truth be told, makes her horny as hell. Infuriating, cocky but also sexy and dangerous. What a combination.

Spike’s tongue is slick and wet as he licks Buffy’s skin from chest to neck in one long trail. She shudders, the anticipation of having that tongue on her almost doing her in. She can feel his incredibly hard erection grinding into her through her skirt and Buffy lets out a long, slow moan.

If he needed further invitation, Spike has it. With three long strides, they are in the dining room and he drops her butt on the edge of the table and stands between her legs. His eyes meet hers in question, their color surging from blue to yellow in a dance she has never seen before. Buffy’s only answer is to lift up her hair, exposing the delicate column of her neck to the moonlight and to Spike’s burning gaze. His reply is swift and sharp, literally. In a blur of black leather and ivory skin, Buffy feels his fangs dive into her flesh without preamble and the quiver of pain and intense physical connection drives straight down into her sex, triggering an onslaught of moisture and heat.

Spike’s head swims, the blood of a Slayer, of his Slayer once again on his tongue. In the haze of the drug that is her blood, his mind reels at the implications of her continuing to offer herself to him in this way. If their bond was tight before, this makes it impenetrable. Suddenly, he feels Buffy’s warm little hands on his cock and realizes she has been busy in the few seconds since he’s bitten her. It doesn’t take long to figure out what she wants. Without releasing her neck, Spike finds her hips and lets her guide him to her opening. His thrust into her core is as sharp and sudden as his bite and he feels Buffy’s whole body react to the double penetration.

Buffy gasps, her body rocked with so many sensations all at once she can’t focus on any one of them. She revels in the intimate connection she and Spike are sharing even as she realizes the room is starting to tilt a bit off kilter. Lightheaded. Dizzy. Blood. Lack of. Just as she braces herself to stop Spike, he jerks his teeth from her neck with one supreme effort and lies his head back on her chest, gasping for air. Air he doesn’t need, but seems to crave. He is still buried in her to the hilt, but has stilled his hips.

The voice is barely audible, words spoken into her skin. “m’ sorry, luv. Almost got carried away. Kinda did, actually.”

Buffy’s hand, shaking just a bit, reaches up and strokes through his platinum curls, gently parting them this way and that, wrapping them around her fingers. The contact steadies her. “Don’t apologize, Spike. Willing participant, remember?” Her neck burns where he bit her but it feels like her skin is already closing around the punctures. Good old Slayer healing powers save the day once again. Spike’s unnatural breathing slows as he gains back some fragments of his self-control. The blinding bloodlust subsides, quickly replaced and surpassed by lust with a capital L. It is no coincidence that Buffy takes this chance to remind him of her talent at controlling all her muscles, even those currently surrounding his cock. He jumps a little, standing up straight, as Buffy makes her presence known with authority. His knees nearly buckle as Buffy’s legs wrap around his waist, pulling him into her warmth.

“Sure you’re okay, luv?” Buffy nods and Spike finally grins at her, licking his lips slowly.

“Was it good?” Buffy tilts her head at him, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Good? Good doesn’t begin to cover it,. Like heaven, or what I imagine heaven might be for a bloke like me.”

Buffy smiles, his answer clearly satisfactory. “Well, don’t stop now.” She pulses her hips against him and feels his cock harden further inside.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Spike plants his hands down on the table on either side of Buffy’s hips. He pulls back out of her, nearly withdrawing completely. Before Buffy can whimper in protest, he drives back home with a force that lifts her off the table. The gentle bump elicits a gasp of pleasure from Buffy and she takes a death grip on his shoulders with each hand. Again and again, Spike thrusts into her, hard and fast. Both so taken with the fury of this coupling, they can do nothing but look at each other. Buffy has been trying to lure him into completely letting go with her and finally has her wish. His inhibition dissolves in the face of his blood sated self and he claims her over and over again as his own. With bruising intensity, Buffy meets him at every entrance, her strength more than a match for his, a tussle of will and love and desire investing each action. Close to coming since Spike first licked her neck, Buffy finally releases, coming with a frenzy, her muscles spasming. Spike growls, her sudden clenching the last step on his path to a body-rocking orgasm. His growl rises up from his throat, accompanied by those gold-flecked eyes, before exploding into a roar of satisfaction. Their bodies move together for seconds afterward as they collapse into each other, still upright. Buffy’s legs slide loosely to rest on Spike’s hips as his hands come to rest on her upper thighs. Slicked in sweat, Buffy tucks her head into Spike’s neck, smelling the musk of him, the incredible maleness of her love. Her body continues to lightly convulse, unwilling to let this orgasm end before finally going slack.

Noting that Buffy is limp as a rag doll, Spike moves his arms around her, gathering her up. She locks her legs around his waist again, snuggling deeper into his chest.

“Upstairs, my love?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Sated and sleepy, Buffy presses her lips into Spike’s neck, making soft noises.

Spike’s heart threatens to burst at the sweetness in his arms. How can he possibly leave her? He stops walking suddenly at this unexpected thought. Leave her? Why did he think that? Rupert’s words of earlier that evening surge over him in a nauseating wave. He shakes his head. Not now. Don’t think of it now. He looks down at the top of Buffy’s blond head, his expression soft with affection.

Not now.

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading, everyone! Reviews are much appreciated! -Ti