"Never better!" Limply sprawled over the back of the tumbled couch, a sharp table end lodged in his braincase, Spike winced. "Who doesn't love having his head split in two?"
"Is it... bad?" Buffy stood on tiptoe to get a look. "Not that I care."
"I'll live," he sighed, testing the depth of his wound. "Not that anyone cares."
"Good," she said, and goggled at her choice of words. "I mean -- Whatever. We're truced."
"'S'that what you call this?" He tutted. "I should've brung my reading specs for the fine print. Tell me, Slayer, I'm curious--"
"It's not like I meant to--"
"--what part of 'truce' do you not understand?"
Buffy made a cautious approach. "The part where I can't hurt you."
She obstructed his view of the ceiling, and his ire miraculously melted away. The Slayer was such a titillating study in contrasts -- powerhouse heavyweight in a 6 stone body; brazen nymphet who shyly covered her naughty bits as if he hadn't just spelunked them with his tongue.
"Tell you what, puffin." He pulled her down on top of him and placed her hand on his stirring groin. "Here on in, barring death and dismemberment, anything goes." He hissed as she squeezed his balls. "Can't say I mind a little pain with my pleasure."
"You mean it?" She walked her fingers up his torso to his nodding face and rubbed the pointed curve of his cheekbone. "'Cause I have been dying to do this."
Spike reeled from her powerful slap. The Slayer really put her back into that one.
Buffy was smug -- he so deserved that for anally invading her without so much as a 'Geronimo' -- until she noticed the pool of blood that had leaked out of his skull. "Oh my god, are you--?"
Before she could dote more -- which, for the best really, no good could come of doting -- he elbowed her in the chin and somersaulted her over his head.
"Oof," she said upon crashing into the adjacent coffee table, unyielding angles cutting into beyond-sore muscles.
"You're right, pet. That is fun." Revitalized, he rose from the couch and languidly fondled himself while he watched her squirm. "I don't know what gets me hotter though, giving or receiving. You?"
"Giving," she said as she kicked him in the face.
He shook it off with a wicked grin. "You sure about that?" He seized her ankles and lifted her ass off the ground. "Let's conduct a test, shall we?"
"What--? Ow!" Buffy was appalled as he proceeded to spank her like a disobedient child. "Ow! Hey! Ow! Spike! Put me down!"
"But I can't decide! You've got to help me, Buffy!" Laughing, he flipped her around to deliver firmer spanks and rub her belly against his hard-on. "I like pain much as the next vamp, right, but I really like causing it too. To spank or be spanked, that is the question." Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
At first, it was humiliating. Then it became sort of soothing. And then she realized there was nothing in his arsenal that didn't make her ache for more. Hurt me. Punish me. Let me do the same to you.
Spike cocked a brow. Somewhere along the way she'd stopped struggling, stopped bitching, and had begun to arch up to meet his hand. Feeling between her thighs, he rubbed the silken liquid on his fingertips and said, "I see you have the same problem."
She bit his shin hard enough to draw blood and he dropped her. On her head. In retrospect, not the brightest strategy, but at least he was hopping around in pain.
"Bloody--! Christ, you're feisty! Like a big, blonde chihuahua."
Attempting to stand, she got as far as all fours. "Yip."
Everything hurt, especially her ass. Which she realized was jutting right at him when he clucked his tongue and said in his seductive voice:
"Look at that bum, all red and welted." He seized her by the waist, stood her flush against him and turned her chin to his. "Want me to kiss and make you better, baby?"
Something about the way he touched her, the way he violated her with his eyes and curled his tongue and called her 'baby' and existed made her want to say yes to anything he asked. This was beyond unhealthy. "Everything you do makes me worse."
Buffy didn't mean for it to come out the way it did -- like a cry for help from a tortured, self-destructive soul. But there it was.
Spike saw her then; the girl inside the Slayer. What she longed for, what she feared, all she'd lost...
She was exquisite.
Before Buffy could escape his scrutiny, he caressed her face, and with an expression that confused her, softly pressed his lips to hers.
It was the most shocking thing he'd done all night, and without thinking it through, she allowed it.
Dizzied by pent-up emotion, she clutched his head, felt the gash she'd made and the blood she'd caused to spill, and nearly sobbed into his mouth.
Streetlight people, living just to find emotion
With a grunt, he pulled her closer, his thick cock thudding against her skin.
Her eyes flew open. What was she doing? Angel was gone. Nothing could bring back what they had -- least of all Spike.
To prove it, she pushed him to the floor and straddled him, marring his white chest with sticky red handprints. "You're a pig, Spike."
"...What'd I do?"
Grasping his hard-on, she sneered, "What haven't you done to me tonight?"
"Well, quite a few things actually, buh-hahhh..." Her warm, wet pussy lips sucked on his tip. "Hoh, Buffy."
As she relished the sensation of being filled, of him hitting just the right spot at just the right angle, of washing away the pain in her life, he touched her hips and whispered her name again. Reverently. Three times.
When did that start?
"Nah-ah," she panted, rising and falling. "That's 'Slayer' to you, Vampire. You don't get to call me--"
"Buffy," he dared to repeat, eyes flashing.
Fed up, she held him down by the neck, grabbed a broken coffee table leg and aimed it at his heart. "Get fangy."
"Oi, what the hell are you--?"
She smacked him and dug the point into his skin. "Get. Fangy."
Spike changed his face, and Buffy was fucking a monster again. A cold, heartless, soulless monster. Much better. So much better.
As she stared into his vampire eyes, her cunt cascading with fresh nectar each time she dropped, he thought, Not a fetish, you say?
She gave him a brutal kiss, circled the stake at his heart and said, lower lip bleeding, "I could, you know."
And that was... extremely hot.
"So could I." He grabbed her hand, flipped her on her back and, her knees at his shoulders, plunged in and licked her throat. "I could drain you in ten seconds flat."
She re-poised the stake at bullseye. "I could dust you in one."
"Right place," he hovered over a pressure point, "I could paralyze you with one little bite."
"You wouldn't have the chance."
"Try me, pet." Nostrils flared, he deepened the intensity of his thrusts. "Give me a reason."
Eyes rolling up, breath sawing out, come dripping down her ass, she ensnared him with her thighs and brought his mouth to her throat.
His fangs grazed her neck. Her stake cut his skin. Death was one slip away.
"One inch in? Two?" he taunted at her ear. "How far are you willing to go?"
She sucked on her finger, said, "All the way," and lunged it far into his rectum.
"OH!" Spike shouted. "OH FUCK!"
Buffy smirked. Didn't think I would, did you? She stuffed another one in and wiggled it.
"Oh, fucking! Bloody! HELL!" It wasn't her tongue, but it might as well have been. Like a firecracker set ablaze, he went haywire: grabbed her ass and jack-hammered her into the floor, imminent death be damned.
As he got more and more merciless, his pantherish growls got less and less human. The animal analogy was just a tad too literal now and what would it say about her if she--? Too late. Climax approaching.
"Unnnhhhhh don't stop don't stop gonna -- uuuunhh Spike!"
It was bad enough he could taste her blood, bad enough a stake was jammed half an inch through his dermis and she was more or less milking his prostate while her vaginal walls milked his cock, but it was the 'Spike' scream that did him in. With a thunderous wildcat growl, he erupted, detonated; blasted all he had into her.
Buffy gasped and sputtered and tried to keep her weapon steady. That was really all she could do until he stopped... until it stopped. 'It' being the evil undead snarling animal thing that was currently ejaculating inside of her. Copiously. She knew because she felt it overflow and spill out... and keep spilling out.
"Grrah! Hrrah! Hah! Ohhhhh. Ohhhhh. Ohhh, Buffy." His forehead hit hers and he closed his eyes, whispering, "Fuck. Me."
Wow. That was... intense. No wonder he was holding out.
Finally able to dislodge her fingers, she let her left hand fall, but knocked something over in the process.
The whiskey bottle.
Cheeks touching, they watched the last of their truce juice trickle out onto the floor.
Buffy's stake tremored, Spike growled at her neck, and in a three-second blur they kicked and clawed and wrestled until they were standing several paces apart.
"Oh my god! You were gonna bite me!"
"You were gonna stake me!"
"No, I wasn't!"
"Neither was I!"
Deflating, she said, "Oh."
"Heh." He scratched his chin. "False alarm then. So..."
"So." She thought about where her dress might be.
Spike smiled. She looked adorable in nothing but those boots.
He looked ridiculous in nothing but those boots. And that face.
Buffy dropped her stake. "You can defang now."
"Who said I was through with you?"
"You're--" He wanted to fight her now? After all they'd-- "Oh."
He stroked his stiffening cock. "It's your fault. Standing there all naked and bloody and dripping my jism."
She stepped backward as he came at her. "You're grotesque."
"You love it." He shook the demon away and lowered to a crawl.
"'Love' is a very strong... Hunhhh!" He licked a slow trail up her inner thigh, sucking in his own come. His own come! Not turned on, not turned on, not... Goddammit.
When he stood to kiss her, her eyes widened. It was still in his mouth. And he was putting it in hers.
She should have been grossed out, but at this point...? She swallowed it.
Spike felt a sudden urge to ask her what she was doing later on in the week.
He was looking at her funny. "What?"
Spike touched her hair and said, "It's your choice."
"We leave now, go our separate ways..."
"We don't stop."
She held his gaze for a long moment.
Just a small town girl
With a solemn nod, she turned away from him, picked up her dress and the lasso, and walked toward the door.
Hell, he thought. Shouldn't have given her a choice. She even had the foresight to nab the lasso so he couldn't rope her back in, tie her down and keep her prisoner here forever. So much for Plan B.
When she got as far as the jukebox, he almost shouted Wait! -- but then Buffy picked something up, about-faced, put the cowboy hat on and said ala Clint Eastwood, if Clint Eastwood was a gorgeous naked girl, "Giddyup, city boy."
Just a city boy
He cracked a silly grin. And salivated a little.
Buffy shrugged. Leaving meant facing reality and Giles and her friends and owning up to everything she'd done tonight. Staying meant orgasms galore and all the 7-Up she could drink.
Lasso over her shoulder, she sauntered to the bull station and flipped the dial to SLOW N' STEADY. The other options were WILD N' ROUGH, FAST N' HARD, and DEATH RIDE. Hmm, wonder which one Spike picked?
It lurched into motion.
IT'S A ROUGH RIDE AT THE RED SPUR!
They shared a chuckle.
TOUGH IT OUT! WIN A PRIIIZE!
"I want my prize, dadgum," Buffy said, patting the bull's back. "What do they give winners in a vampire saloon?"
He climbed aboard, then lay on his back as per her coaxing. "I have a hunch it's not Little Kitty Sand Castles."
"Hello Kitty. Dream Castle. God, what century are you from?"
His laughter ebbed when he realized she was tying his torso to the bull. "What are you doing?"
"Safety first," she said, gave him the rope and hopped onto his thighs. "Now tie me to you, Macramé Man."
"Macramé? It's called shibari."
"Hibachi, Atari, George Foreman grill, I don't care." She said all of this while jacking him to life in time with the sway of the bull. "Just do it."
Amused and turned on, he knotted the lasso around her waist and pulled it taut as she sat on his erection. "Hoh-h-h-h." Lassoed Slayer in a cowboy hat, writhing on his dick. On a mechanical bull. This was the greatest porno he'd ever seen -- and he was the lucky co-star. He might cry.
Hi, my name is Buffy and I'm a comeaholic. She'd heard that facing the truth was half the battle. Or was that 'knowing'? Anyway, she didn't want to win any battle. She was a proud orgasm junkie, and Spike, shady schoolyard supplier, was going to help her O.D.
"Mmmmnah," she said, sensually rolling her head, letting the bull move her forward and back, forward and back.
Spike pulled at the rope to manipulate her further, adding a little jerk every time she lay back. "You feel so good, Buffy."
"So good," she echoed, body bowing and arching. "So good."
"Nothing. Don't stop."
"I won't. God, I won't."
Well the movie never ends it goes on and on and on
Lulled by their waving bodies and the swaying rotations of the bull, its droning whir over the persistent beat of the song that refused to end, they entered a sort of hypnotic trance. Life was reduced to a thrillingly illicit sensation, one that could be felt over and over and over again as long as they never, ever stopped.
* * *
Well the movie never ends it goes on and on and on
Dimly, it occurred to Spike that the song had gone a full run without his knowledge. Or had it been two?
Rolling up and raising her arms in the air, Buffy saw her reflection in the floor. When did the floor get so shiny? Her head was hot.
Spike watched her frisbee off the cowboy hat, run her fingers through her hair and whip it about. Did she know how sexy that was? A strangled moan escaped his throat.
She looked at him. "Don't come yet."
"I won't, baby."
Buffy didn't want to either, but the bull was weaving and his hands were on her hips and every inch of her skin was tingling. She felt drunk again. "So good!" Had she mentioned?
"So fucking good," he said, touching her face. "Should have known it'd be like this."
"With a slayer?"
He shook his head no. "With you."
That caught her off guard in that it made her oddly melty. And suddenly orgasmic.
"Oh god, oh god, I'm gonna--"
"Yeah, baby, let it go. Let it go, I won't stop."
"You promise? You promise you won't stop?"
"I promise, baby. I'll keep this up all fucking week if you--"
"Unh! Unh! Unnnnh!" As she keened and convulsed, blue sparks popped around her head and the air smelled like electricity. All this mind-blowing sex had finally made her delirious.
Her pussy contracted and released, her slick juices coated his balls and the world went blue and sparkly around them. And suddenly--
Well the bzzzt never bzzzt it
The bull was still moving, but the song had stopped. Zips and crackles took its place. And what was that smell?
"Oh my god!" Buffy finally got a good look at the jukebox. The jukebox which was now ON FIRE.
"Shh," Spike said. "Don't stop."
"What?! Are you crazy--?"
"Let me come in you one more time. I'll be quick! Twist my nipples and lick your lips."
He put her hands there. "Do it. Come on, Buffy. What is that so far, five to one?"
She scoffed, but he had a point. And hey, if she died here, she wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone. "Fine. Just hurry!"
Not a problem: Buffy rode him so well, twisted so hard and slid her tongue so suggestively over her lips that it took him all of twelve seconds to crest.
Without his vamp face on he was less growly animal, more passionate admirer. He made a sort of silent howl; mouth open, eyes shut -- then he blinked at her like he was afraid she'd disappear. So, majorly sexy either way. But she should probably save the Jeckyll/Hyde climax analysis for after they got out of the burning building.
"Shit," she said, trying to untie his sailor knot. "What the hell did you do?"
"I tied you to me like you asked," he managed between post-orgasmic gulps and pants.
"Well fucking untie it! There's a fire, Spike."
"I see that! Look, you were the one had the brilliant idea to tie us--" The fire spread to the bull control panel, stopping the bull mid-buck.
"Fang out and bite it."
"What am I, your bloody utility knife? Can't cut a lasso with my teeth. They're for flesh-cutting only. Maybe a little cartilege."
"Wow, I'm so glad we shared this time together."
"Here," he said, undoing the knot. "You're welcome."
"Bout time!" She hopped on the ground with a splash. "Water... Oh, god it was the tonic. It must have not shut off."
"And who's fault was that? Oh I remember, yours."
She slapped him. "Hurry up and let's go. It's getting hard for me to breathe."
"Oh." He hadn't thought of that. "Right, I'll get our clothes. Stay low and mind the water; electrocution's no picnic either."
"Rubber soles," she said about her boots while narrowly saving her dress and putting it on. "Good thing they're knock-offs, huh? In your face, Cordelia."
"Fucking hell!" He exhaled noisily. "My jacket's wet."
"How tragic for you." The entrance was blocked and there was no other door. "Way to make yourself a fire trap, idiot vampires. How the hell are we supposed to--" There was a door over the cat walk. "The ceiling. Spike, now!"
"Can't find my lighter."
"Seriously? You'd die for a lighter?"
"I might. It's a good lighter."
"Fine. I hope you and your stupid lighter are very happy together in... Is this it?"
"Yeah! Good eye, pet!"
Scoffing, she grabbed his arm. "Come. Now."
"Lick your lips, I'll think about it. Heheh."
"I can't believe I'm trying to save you."