Torrid Immortality

Title: Tied Intricately
Authors: Amber Kupy and Daquiri Seffib

Email: amber_daquiri@hotmail.com

Rating: PG to NC-17 depending on chatper

Summery: Buffy and Spike race home from the movie (Takes place after "Gone").

Spoilers: Up until ‘Hells Bells’

Pairin: B/S

Disclaimer: We don't own the characters, we're just borrowing them.

Tied Intricately
(part 1)

The short blonde was gasping for air, her arms held in a tight grip above her head. Rough bark cut into her skin as the man entrapping her moved to press his body even closer. They were leaned against a tree on the sidewalk by the park, where they had gotten sidetracked on their way home from the theatre.

"You're leaving us wide open for an ambush," she murmured into his kiss. "I rescue idiots who do this in the open all the time." Yet, she did nothing to stop him. Indeed, she pulled her hands free of his cool grasp and ran them through his gel-hardened hair, with some difficulty.

"The nasties can bloody well wait their turn," he replied, kissing along her jawline. Spike brought his lips to rest over her racing pulse, his tongue flicking out of his mouth to taste her there.

Instef thf the velvet soft skin he expected, he encountered the smoothness of old scars. Eyes flashing yellow, he took a step back from her, trying to come to grips with what he had just encountered.

It took Buffy a few seconds to realize that Spike had not only stopped his passionate assault on her neck, but that he had actually stepped away from her. The abrupt mood changes were starting to make her dizzy. Following his piercing gaze to the base of her neck, Buffy felt a mixrealrealization, pride and shame flood through her.

Shame won out and Buffy brought her chin to her chest, cursing her short hair as she tried to hide her neck from Spike’s intense gaze.

"I can't believe you let my wanker of a grand-sire bite you three times, " the bleached vampire said roughly. "And that he did such a bad job of it! It looks like you let a bloody squirrel gnaw on you." Envy and jealousy were eating Spike up, that the Poofter had shared this with her, that she had given Angel a trust that was denied him.


Buffy looked up at him defiantly. "I did not let him bite me three times."

Spike didn't know his emotions could shift gear so fast. A red haze descended on him as he thought of Angel forcing this on Buffy. "I'll kill that wanker! I'll bloody well rip him limb from limb!"

"Spike. It was only one time. I made him do it. He was dying."

"Luv, you don't have to protect him -- lie for him – any more. I can count, I can see what he's done." Sorrow swamped him as he thought that that someone Buffy had trusted, who had claimed to love her, could have done this.

Buffy took a deep breath, and let it out, not looking at him. "The other two aren't Angel's," she said in a small voice. Then in a rush, "It-was-the-Master-and-Dracula-who-did-the-other-two!"

Spike froze, confusion now ruled his being. These sodding emotions would be the death of him. Well, the second death, anyway.

"You let those poncy eviler-than-thou bastards bite you? Bloody hell, woman. You should just walk around town with a big sign on your neck that says 'Bite me, I'm easy!'"

Buffy's chin started to quiver, past failures flashing before her eyes. Memory of her first death. Tears welled up in her hazel eyes, a lone one spilling out to trace a halting path down her left cheek.

For a second time in as many minutes, Spike was caught completely offguard. "'Ere now, Luv, don't do that!" Spike had no idea how to handle tears from the Slayer. Tentaly hly he reached out to brush the tear from her face, "Come on, Luv -- tell me what happened.”

She wiped her eyes, trying to preserve some shreds of dignity. When she felt Spike's hand on her shoulders she let him pull her smaller frame to his lean yet muscular chest. "You'd just leap to more brilliant conclusions," she sniffled into his shirt.

"I would not," he asserted, gently stroking her golden, vanilla scented hair. "Please Buffy, tell me." Buffy glanced up. He so rarely used her name, and she had never heard that tone of voice from him before, pleading yet comforting. She was quiet for a long moment, and he tightened his arms around her.

"It was a thrall thing," she replied. "Both of them - Drac and the Master. And please, no willpower jokes." Spike said nothing, he just continued to stroke her silken strands while he quietly thought of ways in which to torture the vampires to death.

The silence went on for so long that Buffy became worried. What was he thinking? Was he disgusted with her? Was she really that easy? Gathering her courage she looked up at him and saw rage clearly in his eyes, which were again clearing yellow.

"It didn't mean anything," she explained swiftly. "They just had some kind of weirx anx and death obsession thing." At her words Spike went game face and slammed his fist through the tree behind Buffy's right shoulder. He paused for a moment, leaning against the tree, then straightened carefully.

"I know Luv. Believe me - I know." With a great deal of care Spike brought his injured hand to his chest.

Buffy reached up to take his hand, and looked seriously at him, biting her lip. Tenderly, the Slayer brought the vampire's wounded hand to her velvet-soft lips.

"I might let you bite me," she said softly, earnestly, shyly.

Her words hit him like a freight train, smashing into the parked car of his composure and bringing a mess of confusion in their wake. Spike was as hard as a rock, yet afraid he’d embarrass himself and cry at the same time.
Cradling her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes. "Appreciate the offer, luv," he said gently. "But it won't be necessary."

Buffy had regained some of her composure, and she smiled back at him saucily. "Not even if I asked nicely?" The hand that had been resting over his heart began to sensuously massage his pec.

"Slayer, if you don't stop right now, we won't make it back to your house." ith ith a mischievous smile Buffy lean in nip Spike’s pouty bottom lip, then ducked under his arm with a laugh, running down the street.

---

They burst through the door with such force that it was almost torn from its hinges. Giggling, they slammed it shut, and turned to face each other, sharing a private secret. Spike grabbed both of his Slayer's wrists, pinning them behind her as he pressed her against the door.

"Cor, I love your laugh. You don't do it nearly enough," he leaned down, ravishing her sweet, full lips.

Buffy moaned and tried to free her hands, she wanted to feel rem remap his body in her memory. She was a little surprised by his forcefulness - usually, as soon as Buffy asserted herself, Spike let her take control; he followed her lead in their sexual exploits.

"You're kinda grabby tonight, aren't you, fang-boy?"

"Come on Slayer, you know you like it rough." With that, Spike pushed her against the door with enough force to seriously injure a normal human, pressing their hands into the small of her back. "You got me all worked up with the biting talk, luv."

The vampire nuzzled his face against the side of her neck, nipping at her skin with blunt teeth. His free hand had been working their undeunder her shirt, and now he began inching it upward.

"Tonight we play by my rules, Slayer." Swiftly Spike took her tender earlobe between his teeth and bit it to the edge of pain. Buffy made a sound that was halfway between a moan and a gasp. She struggled halfheartedly against his restraining hand, but not hard enough to actually break his hold. This was something she had never experienced before, someone else being in charge.

Getting impatient with the buttons on Buffy's shirt, Spike just popped off the buttons and tore the shirt from her body. It was scary, yet wildly exciting at the same time. Warmth and moistness gathered in the juncture of her thighs.

Settling back against her, he trailed his tongue around the rim of her ear, then blew on it gently before taking it between his teeth again. His free hand trailed lightly across her naked torso, stroking the bare skin below the line of her bra.

"I can smell you Slayer, I know what you want, what you need."

"What I need is to go upstairs now," she murmured.

With a suddenness that took her breath away, Spike bent with an arm under her knees and one at her shoulder he picked her up and strode up through the kitchen to the stairs.
When Spike reached Buffy's bed, he lay her down with amazing tenderness. Wanting to feel him close to her, Buffy reached up to grab the collar of his duster. She found her hands instantly pinned to the bed beside her shoulders.

"I told you, pethe ghe growled. "Tonight we're doing this my way." For an instant his grasp was punishing, and Buffy was sure that there would be marks. Luckily, her Slayer healing powers would have them gone by ing.ing. He looked into her eyes with his piercing gaze. There was a hint of a smile lurking behind it.

Mesmerized, Buffy nodded. She had no idea what she was in for, but she thanked god--not the evil hell kind, but whichever one was into good sex--that Dawn had a sleepover party and wasn't expected back until three the next afternoon.

Spike released Buffy's wrist, but the warning look in his heated blue gaze had her keeping them right where they were. Slowly he ran his hands down sun-kissed arms, over her collar bone and to the top of her deep red velvet bra.

He grasped the fabric above her collarbone and tugged sharply, hard enough to hurt any normal person. The snap broke, and the bra came away in his hands. He grinned.

"Very pretty, pet. Matches my shirt. You'll have to buy another just like it."
Buffy instinctively brought her hands down to cover herself, a blush stealing across her breasts, up her neck and to her cheeks.

Ruthlessly Spike grabbed her wrists and put them high above her head. "Last warning, pet, the next time you move -- you could regret it." Inspiration struck. "Hold onto the iron railings of the headboard if you have the urge to move again." His grin widened and his voice had an almost menacing quality to it as he added, "If you can't take it, I can tie them there."

Again the power of speech deserted her and Buffy just nodded mutely, her hands holding onto the metal for all she was worth. She would not move.

Spike again ran his hands down her arms, neck and collar bone, coming to rest on her breasts, cupping them gently. He ran his fingers in light circles, letting his fingernails graze her skin, avoiding her nipples. Male pride swelled within him as he watched her nipples harden without any direct contact. Male pride wasn't the only thing to swell. Spike shifted as his jeans became almost unbearably tight.

He looked thoughtfully at her, naked torso rising from her short skirt, stretched out on the bed. "You know, pet, you're overdressed."

With a ruthlessness that shocked both of them Spike ripped the skirt over Buffy's hips and down her legs.

Buffy winced. "I'm making you pay for new clothes, you know," she said mildly.

"In that case." A tear rent the air as he ripped her red velvet briefs from her body. She lay before him, completely naked, her beautiful golden body on display for him and him alone.

His.

"Mine. You're mine now." His eyes had a feral gleam to them, sparks of yellow flashing to the surface.

She looked up at him, drawing in a breath to speak, but changed her mind as their eyes locked. Normally the proprietary ranting of men just bored her, but with Spike she felt it in her bones. She was his, and maybe she was ready to admit it.

Again she nodded, "Yes, I am yours." Spike gasped, but she continued, "but you are also mine."

He growled, yellow flickering in his ice-blue eyes, then fading. With the same quick-silver speed that had been with him all night, he felt his emotions shift, morphing into something all together different.

"Yes, luv," he whispered, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. "I am yours. I always will be; I love you so much." And then they shared the sweetest, gentlest kiss either of them had ever experienced. Buffy brought her hands down to toy with the hair at the back of Spike's neck. He growled again.

"I warned you, pet, not to move your hands." Spike pulled away from Buffy, standing to survey her room, his hands sliding idly into his pockets. A slow smile spread across the vampire's pale features as he toyed with the length of ribbon in his left pocket.

Buffy returned her hands to the top of the bed, a slow, provocative smile spreading across her swollen lips. Blue eyes flashing yellow followed her hands, the vampire’s expression somewhere between a smile and a reproving scowl. Sensuously, the petite blonde waved at him around the top of one of the iron bars.

When Spike's eyes returned to the survey of her room, Buffy began to worry. The look in his eyes was almost predatory; he was searching for something. Her mind raced, she tried to think - was there anything in the room that was potentially painful? Well... there were a few axes in the closet. And a bag full of knives under her bed. And a couple of garottes in with her necklaces. She started to worry. Whatever it was that he was looking for, it was definitely going to affect the mood of the evening.

With a shake of his head, Spike's gaze returned to her, but the predatory glance did not change - if anything, it became more feral as it raked over her naked, flushed body.


Slowly, he pulled a length of slick red ribbon from the pocket of his duster. Buffy gasped and squirmed, her hands momentarily letting go of the bars above her head.

"You can't be trusted, pet, even now you're disobeying me." Spike ran the ribbon over Buffy's naked torso. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson about listening and obeying."

Slowly Spike ran the ribbon up and over Buffy's heaving breasts, over the unblemished right side of her arching neck, continuing up her straining arms to gently entrap her errant right wrist.

Buffy gazed up at him, adopting what she hoped was a properly entranced expression. The ribbon was light enough that she could break through it whenever she wanted - but, she realized as he wound it around her other wrist, it was strong enough that she would really have to try. Truthfully, she was more than a little turned on by his possessiveness. Although she was not about to admit that to him.

Spike leaned down until his lips grazed her ear, "Do you recognize this, pet?" he asked as he tightened the final knot of the black ribbon. A shudder coursed through Buffy's body; whether it was from the tightening of the material that bound her wrists, or from Spike's blunt teeth and tongue on her ear, she had no idea.

The teeth at her ear turned almost punishing and Buffy yelped in surprise.

"I asked you a question, pet -- are you going to answer me?" Spike wondered just how far he could push his Slayer before she decided enough was enough. From the look on her face, he was guessing that the answer was 'not much farther'. However, he did not intend to stop unless she forced him to.

Easing back a bit, he kissed her softly, before again leaning down to look her in the eye. "It's from that night,” he explained. “That night you came to me wearing nothing but come-fuck-me pumps, a coat and this ribbon as a bow."

Buffy leaned forward and nipped Spike's lower lip, "The night you taught me about candles and foreplay?" she asked her eyes momentarily loosing focus as she recalled that night.

He grinned. "No, that other night when you visited me wearing nothing much under a bow. Yes, that night. Speaking of which. I need to go grab a few things. Can you wait here a sec?"

Caught off guard, she blinked in surprise. "What...?"

"Be back in a jiff, pet."

With that, Spike left her room, his footsteps disappearing down the steps. A cool breeze rippled across Buffy's heated skin in the empty room.

tbc...