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By NautiBitz
"Co-Ed Naked Metal Twisting"

Info and Author's Notes: See introduction.

Chapter summary: Things don't always go according to plan...

More of you was the unifying thought that wrenched them free of the iron bar and broke the headboard in two.

Buffy rushed to touch his angled face and shoulders; Spike ran a thumb over her bee-stung lips, then found her breasts, her slippery hips. Still manacled and linked to one another, they tested the limits of their restraints.

Whispering his name, she looped her chains around the nape of his neck and pulled him close.

"Fucking beautiful," he rumbled at her ear, loving the way she shivered against him in response.

Spike caught himself thinking of other things he could say to make her do that again. That's when he realized it was all over, that his world was spinning clear off its axis.

Fuck. He pounded into her with quiet fury. Fuck her and eat her, hard and fast, something inside him urged. Take what you want and run, while you've still got your dignity... Only he didn't want to kill her… he wanted to make this last.


What if he kept her forever? Made her immortal -- his own?

Shame on you, he scolded himself, shocked at the thought. Dru is yours, Dru is your eternity.

He lifted his head to gaze down at Buffy, mouth moving into a pretty little 'O'.

'She's all around you', she'd said. And now he understood.

His obsession wasn't with killing her. It was with having her, possessing her. No wonder Dru had left him. "No wonder," he said aloud, and descended to press his lips to that sweet, perfect mouth.

Her eyes fluttered open in surprise -- they hadn't kissed yet.

She slid her tongue into his mouth, nibbled on his lower lip, let go, swooped in again. Their foreheads touched, and he thrilled at the feel of her heart racing.

"Oh god," she gasped.

"You're amazing," he said.

Buffy slowly brought their chains together, then bore forward to wrangle him onto his back.

He smiled. Baby likes to play.

She smiled lazily and thought, Dying soon. Might as well make the most of it.

* * *

Angel woke in a cold sweat, images of Buffy searing his mind's eye. Mortal danger, the vision whispered.

Rubbing his temple, he forced himself back to earth and the present. Just a dream, he reasoned. She's okay, she's safe. It was a Saturday afternoon; she was probably shopping with her friends. The last thing she needed was her ex lurking around.

He'd had this dream before -- Buffy in bed with evil. It was his penance. It was nothing new.

"Are you sure it's only a dream?" a thickly accented male voice crackled from behind him.

Angel spun to face his intruder. An Akalam demon. Native of the Aegean. Near impossible to kill. Exudes metal alloy from its fingertips, is freakishly strong, apparently telepathic... and really, really hairy.

"An Akalam," Angel said conversationally as he stood up. "Haven't seen one of your kind since the Bronx catacombs."

"My brother was born there," Gustak said with a wave of his hulkish hand. "Second generationers. They get all the breaks."

"Do they?"

"I think it's the accent. Nobody trusts an accent, you know? But really, that's not why I'm here."

Angel ticked his head to the side. "I was hoping."

"I'm here to enlighten you, Angelus."

"Uh-huh." He turned his back to the demon and padded away. "I gave at the Hell dimension. Thanks for stopping by."

"It's about your girlfriend."

He stopped in his tracks and sighed. "She's not my girlfriend anymore."

"Then I guess you won't find it at all interesting that Spike has her."

Angel turned, features hard. "Where?"

* * *

The room echoed with rhythmic grunts and moans, the slap of flesh meeting flesh, the jangle of shifting chains.

"Mm, Spike..." Palms against his chest, she rose and fell, contracting her interior muscles with each pull, making him hiss and babble lustfully through grit teeth.

"Fucking... bloody hell, Slayer, so fucking tight, sweet, hot, fuck me, Buffy, yeah..."

"Keep talking..." she urged in a heated pant. "Keep talking to me like that, say my name like that..."

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, fuck, yeah, fuck me Buffy, with your sweet, hot, tight little -- Buffy!"

Holy god, she thought, riding him faster, letting his unbridled desire go to her head. So bad, so wrong, so *good*... The last thing she pondered was the hot prickling sensation of his fingertips digging into her hips and whether he'd leave bruises and how she would explain them should she ever have to before tripping, tumbling, falling into blissful orgasm, gulping and swallowing air.

He sputtered unintelligibly as her inner walls milked his cock and more of her slippery juices coated him. Growling, determined to be the one in control, he hastily pushed her off and rolled her over onto her knees. The chains got in the way, but not unattractively. Holding her hands behind her back, he plunged into her from behind.

She groaned, cheek smushed into the mattress.

Forcing himself to hold it together, he bent down to meet her ear and whispered, "You like it?"

"Oh god, y..." She stopped just short of saying yes, but he knew. Yeah, he knew.

A few more hard, driving strokes, and she'd know too -- because he'd be hers.

Forever, irrevocably hers.

No, Spike panicked. I won't, I can't be like him! I won't be the Slayer's simpering dog!

Gums receding, fangs elongating, he focused on the succulent neck peeking out at him from beneath wisps of pale blonde hair.

Eat her. Be done with this. Be the demon you are and suck her dry.

Trembling, he reached out and slowly pushed her hair over her head, clearing her skin for the kill.

As he closed in, she whimpered, "Spike, don't stop... please baby don't stop..."

"Rrrr... aaahhh!" He lost control, lost his mind, found something that'd been long lost for over a hundred years, and spilled it inside of her.

When it was over, he collapsed on her back with a sob, his features slipping back to human form.

Coming down from her high, Buffy suddenly felt the pain in her arms, the weight of his body and the weight of the entire world telling her how stupid she was for doing this. "Spike? You're heavy."

"Yeah," he said, finding his casual voice and rolling off of her. "Dead weight usually is."

Back facing him, she asked testily, "Can I have my hands back now?"

He got up, a little too quickly and attentively, to adjust the chains.

"Thanks." She lay on her back beside him.

For a few minutes, they stared at the ripped and ragged canopy above them. Buffy focused on an abandoned spider web that hung limply from its center. Ew, she thought. I just had sex under that.

"Well," he said, breaking the silence, "No one's come yet."

She looked at him pointedly.

"To kill us, I mean."

She sat up slowly, gears finally turning. "That's kind of strange, don't you think?"

"Or possibly good," he corrected, not catching her meaning.

"No, it's not," she said ominously, a tingle running up her spine. "They're waiting for something."


"Whoever did this." She looked down at him, and back at the walls surrounding them. "They're waiting for something. Something big."

"Yeah well, lucky for us, we're free. We don't have to be here for it."

"Hello? Still chained to each other, still daylight? And unless we can break this big honking lock that holds us together, still stuck here?"

He tilted his head. "You don't want me to die?"

"Spike, come on. We just had--" she skidded to a halt, unable to say the word.


"Right. So. It'd be... rude to kill you. And need I mention the extreme case of nudity?"

"Glad you've still got your manners," he smirked and sat up. "Anyway, guess you never did your homework, pet. Factory's got outs to the tunnels. How you think we got in and out back then?"

"I'd really rather not. Think of that." She considered the options. "Well okay. We can stay here and wait for our evil captor, whoever he or she is, or we can run bound and naked through the filthy sewers. If anything, it's convenient, since I really have to pee..."

"God, I forgot you were human. Right, do your thing. I won't look."

"Ew! No! And definitely not!"

"What, you think I can't handle it? I just watched you ride me like a prize stallion!"

The punch came too unexpectedly for him to deflect it. "Ow! What the hell is your problem?"

Tears welled in her wide eyes. "Don't remind me."

"Oh, now we're playing It Never Happened? Little hard to do with you still oozing my load, innit?"

Mouth agape, she lunged. He parried, and they fell into a wrestling match, taking dominating turns until he caught her underneath him, holding her manacles tightly.

Panting, she stared up at him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She frowned. "You're sorry?"

"Yeah." Slowly, his mouth met hers, and his hand traveled downward.

No, no, not again, she protested inwardly. Kissing that incredible mouth, being touched by his incredible hands, would lead to other incredible things she shouldn't ever do again. This was a one-time, stupid, very stupid thing and it had to end. Now. She flinched and spat the first negative thought that sprung to mind. "Ucch. You taste like ashes."

Spike blinked, brow furrowed, ears ringing. Why that little... Bitterly, he laughed to himself, "Bloody Dru and her dead-on visions."


He pushed off of her. "Bitch knew exactly how this would end, too." He turned his eyes to the ceiling, palms facing up. "Would it have killed you to warn me? In layman's terms, I mean -- not that buggery puzzle-me-this crap?" He stood up. "Thanks a lot, Dru! Thanks a lot!"

Buffy sat up, eyes shifting left to right. "Spike?"

He sighed, and turned to her. "Yeah?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," he said gamely. "Just that my life is effectively over, and Dru knew it all a-bloody-long."

"Yeah?" A large, hairy demon materialized from the dark area beneath the stairs. "She ain't the only one."

* * *

Mayor Wilkins watched the monitor absently. "So, you're telling me -- let me get this straight -- he didn't want to go, so you sent your brother in to finish this?"

Chin high, Gus nodded. "He is a very complex man, that Angel."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Far be it from me to argue with that." The mayor smiled, but his knee bobbed reflexively. "Did he mention anything about, oh, I don't know, helping her some other way?"

"No. He said if I valued my life I'd better save her... and then he took off, on a journey to find faith, he said. So I told him, 'you know, you are a very complex--'"

"Faith, you say?" Wilkins swiveled his chair towards Trick.

Trick sighed. "You let Angel go get the other Slayer."

Gus frowned. "What other Slayer?"

* * *

Buffy and Spike fumbled into battle stance.

Perry laughed. "I gotta tell you, with the nakedness and the tripping? Not all that scary."

"Akalam demons," Spike bellowed in recognition, arms spanned wide. "I should've known." He turned his head towards Buffy and held up the chains. "The bricklayers of the underworld. No power tools necessary."

"Oh," she said, vaguely impressed.

"Bricklayers?" Perry was wholly offended. "You better watch your mouth."

"No, you," Faith shot out from behind him.

Before he could turn, she'd slung a thick chain over his head and across his mouth. Yanking him backwards, she said with a smile, "Hey, B. Nice goodies. Who's the dish?"

Blushing, Buffy said, "Uh... Faith, this is Spike. Spike, Faith."

"Spike," Faith approved over the demon's gurgling protests. "Fits you."

"Buffy the third I reckon," he asided.

"More like the anti-Buffy," the original Buffy replied.

"So I noticed," he said, and called out, "Uh, metal won't do to restrain him, not unless you tie back his--"

Perry grabbed the chain, and it melted into silver liquid. "Holy shit!" Faith recoiled. "What are you, the Terminator?"

With an evil grin, he lunged for her face.

Buffy rushed forward, tugging Spike along for the ride.

* * *

"My my my, Mr. Gustak," Mayor Wilkins said disappointedly, "Will ya look at all the mayhem you've caused."

"Me? I don't--"

"Y'see, normally, I like mayhem. Thrive on it, as a matter of fact. But this..." He tsk-tsked.

"You blame me? This was--"

"You're right, Mr. Gustak. It's me. I shouldn't have agreed to hiring you for such a delicate job, now should I? You're handy with the metalwork, no bones about that, but it's pretty clear to me now that you don't understand the... nuances of dealing with slayers and vampires and so forth. Mr. Trick?"

Hands behind his back, Trick nodded gravely to the robed Vago standing quietly in the corner.

"Hey, just a minute here," the demon argued. "You can't--"

In a flash of light, Gustak was gone.

The mayor wrinkled his nose at the lingering aroma of burnt hair as he inspected the rug. "Oh now, that's gonna stain."

* * *

"Surprisingly unsmelly for a demon," Buffy said, sniffing Perry's Hawaiian shirt before putting it on.

"They're a surprisingly hygienic lot." Spike zipped up Perry's oversized white slacks and went looking for some rope to keep them from sliding down his naked hips.

"So," Faith said, checking the doorway for more intruders. "How'd you lose your clothes anyways?"

"It's a--" Buffy halted. "Long. Story. Boring."

"Yeah," Spike said, not wanting to piss Buffy off.

Faith looked them over. "Right." She held her hands up. "Hey, I don't want to pry."

"It's not -- I mean, there's nothing to pry."

"Sure, B," she said, as if it didn't matter to her in the least.

"I could get away with this look," Buffy appraised as she closed the last button on the shirt. "If I were a retired circus clown in Boca... who just lost his pants. Let's motor, guys. I need leggings, and stat."

"What about Hairy?" Faith gestured to the bed.

"Mmmfph!" Perry thrashed around, struggling vainly against his restraints.

"Hmm," Buffy mused, hands on hips. "To slay or not to slay. What do you think, Spike?"

"Be tough, and right messy, but we could give it a whirl."

"Or I could just cut to the chopping," Faith said, wielding an axe. "Might not kill him, but it'll be fun."


"Yeah, but, guys, he was forthcoming about Trick and the location of our clothes. And he seemed genuinely sorry..." After a moment, Buffy waved her hand. "Let's leave him, at least for a few days."


"Ladies first," Spike said, fanning out his hand.

* * *

"So, how was it?"

Buffy jumped slightly and pointed down. "Faith? Squatting here?"

"Yeah, whatever, it's only pee." She peered at the silhouette of Spike, waiting patiently at the far end of the tunnel, and leaned in. "What's the deal with Spike? You ride the big one all night, or what?"

Glaring, Buffy stood up and adjusted her shirt. "I was tied up to a creature I loathe, that's hardly what I'd call sexy."

"Loathing, huh? All the better to unh you with, right?" Faith laughed, adding a hip thrust for emphasis.

"Look, I'm not you, okay?"

Stinging, Faith said, "Fine, you go ahead and swim with the pharoahs all you want. Meantime, it doesn't take vamp senses to smell what you two were cookin' in there." She walked away.

Buffy gasped. Breath and feet speeding up, she hooked her friend by the arm. "Faith, it was just a stupid thing, it didn't--"

With an echoing scoff, Spike pushed off from his place against the wall and headed into the next tunnel.

"Secret's safe with me, B," Faith said, amused, miming a cross over her heart. "I won't tell a soul."

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