Long Story

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging to the show are not mine. The poem used in the story is by William Butler Yeats.

Chapter Comments: Set between ‘Smashed’ and ‘Wrecked’, season six.

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Passion and Force, Part II


Spike groaned, enjoying the taste of her. Buffy was still in shock, breathing hard while she lay on her back. Spike loved the way her hair was spread out wildly around her, some of it covering her face from when she had thrashed around in the pleasure he was giving her. When Buffy finally looked down to meet his eyes, Spike raised his fingers and slowly licked the juices from her body off of each.

“Always wanted to know how you taste.” He said in a voice filled with lust.

Buffy’s legs were splayed open now and her breathing hard and heavy. She watched his movements, watched him lick the juices off of his fingers with obvious satisfaction. It didn’t take her long before her temper flared back up, and Spike found himself kicked across the room.

He hit the floor on his back, his head smacking against the wall. He groaned a bit and shook his head, trying to regain his bearings before the slayer had time to flee. He wasn’t about to let her just scamper off when he finally got a big piece of what he wanted. But to his surprise, she didn’t flee at all. In fact, she was crouching down beside him in all her naked glory, her wet pussy glistening and some of her juices smeared across her thighs. The scent of her brought a growl to his throat.

Spike found himself being held down by Buffy’s hand on his chest. He looked up at her and found a wicked gleam in her eyes that sent a small shiver down his back. He gave her a grin.

“You can’t possibly tell me you didn’t enjoy every moment of that.”

To his further surprise, her hand moved slowly up his thigh. She was leaning over him, her breasts almost close enough to lick. He tried to arch up and capture a nipple into his mouth, but was shoved back onto his back. Buffy suddenly wrapped her warm little fingers around his hard rock hard cock and made him gasp.

“I can definitely tell you did.” Buffy replied, suddenly back to being bold and taking what she wanted.

He gave her a cocky look and raised his eyebrows as he looked down himself. “That’s always hard for you, luv.”

To Spike’s satisfaction, he could almost see a hint of a blush moving up the Slayer’s cheeks. Her grip suddenly left his cock and went instead to his testicles, gripping them firmly and almost bringing a yelp to Spike’s lips.

“Is that so?” she asked.

“Easy on the jewels, sweetheart…”

She was kneeling at his side and leaning close, her lips brushing against his. He tried to move closer for a kiss, but was punished with a hard squeeze by Buffy’s hand. He gave a slight whimper of protest, but laid still. She brushed her lips gently against his, then moved the across his jaw and to his ear. She traced the very tip of her tongue slowly along his earlobe, then bit onto it while she squeezed his balls.

Spike was painfully hard now, aroused not only by the Slayer’s every touch, but by her desire to dominate him. Her mouth began to slowly kiss down across his jaw before she sucked on his skin beside his chin. He shivered when she moved down further, kissing down his neck while she moved her hand away from his balls and wrapped her fingers back around his hard length.

“God, Summers, you’re killing me…”

She moved down further, her mouth meeting his chest. She flicked her tongue against one of his nipples and he jerked at the feeling. She began to stroke him, moving her hand slowly up and down along his shaft while he let out a hiss of pleasure. She brought her mouth above his nipple and suckled hard on the skin. When Spike looked down he saw a nice round mark her hard suckling left and wondered if that was her intention: to mark him like her property.

Her hand was doing delicious things. She stroked him faster, but when he tried to move his hand to her body to return the favor, she pushed it away violently, giving him an almost brutal squeeze to correct him. Spike groaned out loud and reached back for anything to grasp. His hand met the pipes that crawled up the wall and closed around the metal, immediately denting it with his force.

“And you call me evil…”

Buffy gave him a look, but said nothing. Her mouth moved further down his body while her hand stroked him harder still, the thumb brushing over the soft head of his cock with every stroke.

Without warning, she took the head of his cock into her mouth, surrounding him with her warmth. He gasped out loud, both of his hands now gripping the pipes on the walls and giving a hard yank.

“Bloody hell!” He closed his eyes and moaned out in ecstasy while she suckled on him, slowly taking more of him in her mouth.

He was sure if he were standing his knees would be buckling. He tried to remain as still as much as he could, wanting nothing more than for her to continue. He let out a groan of pleasure, which only became louder as he looked down to see for himself the delicious sight of his cock in the slayer’s mouth.

He had seen this sight before, with the bot, but it couldn’t even compare to the reality. He didn’t want plastic and hardware. He wanted to the flesh and blood woman that was driving him mad with her hot little mouth and teasing tongue.

His grip on the pipes began to rip them down out of the wall.

It was official. Spike had never known such bliss. The head of his cock was in Buffy’s hot little mouth. What she couldn’t take into her mouth, she had in her hand. She no longer had his balls in a death grip because she knew he wouldn’t be struggling anymore. She was stroking him hard and fast. Spike’s eyes rolled up and he couldn’t help the deep groans of pleasure if he tried.

He felt Buffy’s groan as she took more of him into her mouth. The scent of even more and new arousal came to him, and the fact that the Slayer was getting off from sucking him off was his undoing.

Jaw clenching and back arching, Spike felt his pleasure reach impossible heights. His hips surged up so he could thrust deeper into her mouth. The fingers of one hand dug helplessly into the rubble while the other hand yanked away the last of the piping.

“Slayer!” He cried out in ecstasy. He looked down at her again, only to meet her hazel eyes, clouded with lust. She was watching his reaction, enjoying the sight of him lost to his passion. She pumped him harder, finally pulling her head back just as he was about to reach his peak.

“Oh god, Buffy!” He shouted as he came, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm.

Spike didn’t give Buffy time to become disgusted with herself. As soon as he was sure he could get up he pounced, grabbing hold of her and forcing her onto her back. The Slayer struggled, forcing him onto his back instead. The two of them rolled across the ground, battling for dominance.

Pulling away, Spike got to his knees before pulling Buffy up to hers. She struggled against him, but he forced her to stay on her knees, facing away from him. He was getting hard all over again. Buffy reached up and found purchase on the wall. She never wanted to be in a submissive position for a vampire. She tried to pull herself up to her feet, but Spike’s arms were wrapped tightly around her. She tried to push back using the wall, but it only brought her up close to his growing erection.

“Spike! Let me-!”

She gasped as his fingers dipped into her hot, soaking cunt.

“Look how wet you are after that…” His fingers explored her before pulling out and spreading her own juices across her belly. She bit at her earlobe and growled menacingly. “Just look how hot you are for me…” He brought his still wet fingers to her lips. He could feel her panting in her own lust and need.

He smeared some of the juices left on his fingers onto her lip sand nearly groaned aloud when he felt her hot little tongue dart out to taste herself. He was fully aroused. He raised his fingers to his own lips and licked the rest off himself.

Spike didn’t give her warning before gripping her hips and thrusting his hard length into her tight quim. Buffy’s eyes went wide in shock before closing tightly. She trembled beneath his touch, barely able to catch her breath.

“Fuck…”

“I intend to.”

His pace was merciless, pounding hard into her body and holding onto her shoulder to pull her back to meet each thrust. Buffy couldn’t even say anything coherent. Soon the only sounds tumbling out of her were loud moans of mind-numbing pleasure. Her hair was bouncing around her face and her breasts were bouncing with each hard stroke. His pace was almost brutal, pumping into her from behind until she began to scream from pleasure, pain and need.

He leaned over her possessively, brushing her hair from the back of her neck. He then bit at her with blunt human teeth, using them to hold her in that submissive position while his hands wandered her body. He cupped her breasts and squeezed them hard before one hand moved slowly down between her legs and found her clit, rubbing the throbbing nub until he felt her muscles shake and spasm around his member, milking him even as Buffy screamed in her orgasm. She slammed her fist into the wall she had been trying to use to push herself up.

Spike roared in his own release, his legs shaking beneath him as he filled her soaking cunt with his cool seed.

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They had taken a while to recover. They had been side by side in the rubble, one of them panting hard to catch her breath. Buffy was no longer trying to run or deny what was happening. In fact, she was the one to jump the other first, vampire and Slayer battling for dominance before both gave in to ecstasy.

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Spike was completely knackered. He was also more sated then he had ever been in his life. His entire body was completely and utterly satisfied. It practically sang in afterglow. He stretched on the floor, his leather duster spread underneath him.

The woman beside him was obviously just as satisfied. She had long since fallen asleep from exhaustion, and there was a small smile on her face that, had she been awake, she would have denied.

But Spike would forever remember the sounds the Slayer made, her screams of pleasure from his touch, and would forever remember her taste, the feeling of her soft skin, and the scent of her arousal.

Buffy had silently refused to sleep in his arms. When they had both been spent and his touch had turned tender she had turned away, turning partially onto her side and covering herself as much as she could with her leather skirt. She had retreated within herself.

He wanted to touch her again. He wanted to hold her. The cold had never bothered him before, but he wanted the warmth of her body close. And if he was honest with himself, Spike was afraid. He had just gotten a taste of something amazing; something beyond anything he had tasted before. Now he didn’t know if he could ever let her go.

He had known he was damned (well, more so) the moment he knew he had fallen in love with her. Would this change anything? Was he any closer to her at all? He felt like a nancy boy, worrying if she was going to be there when he woke up.

Spike had decided not to sleep. He didn’t want to sleep. No dream could have been better. There was still enough shelter from the crumbled house to keep him from the sun, which he knew was already starting to rise. He would watch his Slayer – his Lover- sleep. Tomorrow would come and bring what it would. He wouldn’t know until she woke.

Watching her peaceful face, he was horrified to find William the Bloody Awful poet rising to the surface. Ridiculous sonnets were already floating through his head, but he pushed them aside. Instead, a poem written by a much better man came to mind and that one he didn’t push away. He whispered it softly like a prayer.

“Had I heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet”

He swallowed hard, then reached over and softly brushed some of her long golden locks away from her face, his fingertips lingering at her cheek. Just to touch her seemed like heaven.

“But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;”

He caressed her face, then brushed his thumb across her lips, remembering their taste.

“Tread softly”, he quietly begged her, thinking of what the morning would bring. “Because you tread on my dreams.”