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Ask Me No Questions

Spike watched her hips sway under the thin blanket as she scuttled up the stairs. What the hell was that? He had never had a woman scramble out of his bed that fast. He felt himself growing hard again just thinking about it. He'd never come so hard in his life. He dropped back onto the couch with a groan. He didn't know what the fuck her bloody problem was. He'd taken it bleedin slow as molasses. He had wanted to rip her garments right from her body and smash her into the wall. He'd wanted to bite her and say raunchy things. But instead he'd made her watch him undress her, gave her plenty of time to say no. And it had been shockingly erotic. He couldn't even believe how her innocent eyes had turned him on.

He grabbed the remote and flung himself on the couch, flicking on the telly. The Summers had cable and he settled on an old Monty Python flick. Bloody Brilliant Comedy. But he couldn't concentrate. The way she had tried to get away from him and then kissed him like she was drowning. The way she tasted, all fresh and innocent. How she had given in to his touch and writhed and moaned and cried out like the vixen she was. No his Buffy never did anything half way.

She had turned on the shower up stairs. Washing him off of her. Bitch. She had wanted it just as much as him. Tugging at his shirt in desperation. Hesitating at the waistband of his jeans. Jesus she had been hot, grinding her hips against him without even realizing it. Sliding her innocent hands up to cup his bum. Rotating her hips while she rode him, who had taught her that? He lay back on the couch; unzipping his jeans and bringing his already rock hard cock into his hand. He stroked himself slowly remembering the way she had tried to stop him from tasting her, and then how she had bucked against his face, calling his name and shaking.

He increased the pressure on himself and stroked a little faster, thinking of being inside her. She had been almost virginal tight and sopping wet, and incredibly hot. And the breathless little sounds she had made, escalating into full blown moans and cries. And then calling his name desperately, clinging to his shoulders, convulsing around his cock. He came quickly, milky sperm covering his hand and stomach. He glanced around looking for something to clean himself off with and saw some Kleenex on the table next to his head. Making quick work of it he zipped himself back up and sighed with contentment.

His Slayer however was irritated and embarrassed. He could feel it so strong through the bond that he almost went up to check on her before he stopped himself. He was the Big Bad not a soddin nursemaid and there was a good flick on the telly. She stomped around upstairs. He heard a drawer slide open and realized with a start that he was in game face and that's why he could hear so well. But he didn't push it away. There was silence for a minute out side of her heartbeat and her breathing and than a small click. Putting something down? And then the rustle of covers. Bloody Hell, she was getting into bed.

Wonder what she's wearing? His mind conjured up sexy visions of leather and lace and he shook his head. More like those filmy pajama's she had on earlier. He listened to her toss and turn and sigh. A thudding sound, possibly pounding her pillow. The credit's rolled for Monty and he flipped through the channels. God he was listening to every sound she made and he ought to be thinking of Dru. Bloody Bitch. Messing around with a Chaos Demon and than a Fungus Demon. Wonder if she's shacked up with anyone today? When he got this Slayer mess sorted out he was going to show her who she belonged to. Starting with slaughtering whatever loser she had attached herself to. Christ on a cross, he hoped she was alright. Dru wasn't always as worried about things like sunlight as she ought to be. And she had a thing for Churches.

He suddenly smiled. Soap Channel was playing this weeks Passions. He crossed his feet at the ankles and settled in for a good watch. Hours till sunrise and his Slayer would throw a right fit if he went hunting. Not to mention he didn't want to risk being seen like this by anyone demonic. Especially Dru. Was the only thing that kept him from going out and finding her and dragging her back to lock in the basement. She was already raging about him tasting like ashes and blinded by sunlight. Must have known he'd end up shagging the Slayer and wantin more.

She was turned on again he realized with a start, his cock growing hard. He could feel it through the bond. Was she thinking about him? Was she touching herself? Fuck, What a Bleedin' ponce he was. He ought to just go up there and take care of business. He shifted on the couch and tried to concentrate on the telly. Cursing he got up and stalked into the kitchen. Little munchies to distract him. He grabbed a bag of chips off the counter and flopped into the armchair. Which reminded him of the fantasy he'd had of her there and he jumped up swearing. Then kicked the couch, which hurt with his bare foot. Bleedin Tragic he was. He sat down on the couch and ripped open the chips, Doritos's, and began to snack. These things were actually pretty damn good. Wonder if the Summers had any Scotch. Highly unlikely.

He rolled up the bag and put it on the coffee table and went out to his car. He rummaged around in the trunk; shoving aside a bottle of bourbon, he found the scotch. Her scent assaulted him and he turned to see her there in the doorway, all tousled from bed. She was wearing some silky robe thing that skirted her thighs, a cream color. Didn't hide much. She wasn't wearing any makeup, her eyes wide and innocent without the smudge of darkness that was customarily around her eyes. Her lips ripe like plums. "What are you doing?" She asked sharply, snark in place. Must have heard him leaving.

He held up his Scotch. "Drink?"

She wrinkled her nose in that adorable childlike way he liked and shook her head. "A World of No!" She turned around and went back in leaving the door ajar for him. The back of the little robe brushed her thighs, her tight little bum outlined by silk. He slammed the trunk and followed her in the house, kicking the front door closed behind him. She was already half way up the stairs. Was she coming on to him? Because that robe left next to nothing to the imagination. Especially since he'd seen all he needed to fill in the blank spots. "Bloody Fucking Hell!" he cursed twisting the cap off and drinking strait from the bottle. It was hot. Fuck! He grabbed a glass and fished some ice out of the freezer.

So the Chit was an incredible fuck. Bollocks! So he wanted her again without excuse of his demon. Big Fucking Bloody Deal. Who wouldn't want to encore that little spitfire? So it was wrong to lust after the Slayer, he was evil and delighted in all things wrong. They might be trying to figure out a way to end it but until they did she was his. Might as well enjoy it, because tomorrow they would fight about blood. Or maybe be enemies again. He drank deeply and went back to the couch, sprawled out and watched his soap. She was tossin and turnin in bed again. Wonder if she'd stake him if he opened her pretty veins again. Her blood sang to him, just a soft tune tonight, he was sated. But by tomorrow night it would be pounding in his head. The credits rolled and he reached out and clicked the off button. He drained the rest of his drink and ghosted up the stairs.

He would have known which room was hers even without her heavy scent. He could just sense her presence. The door was ajar and he pushed it open. She lay on her side, her long golden legs all tangled up in the blankets, only giving him a glimpse of tawny skin. She was wrapped around her pillow and her eyes were closed. She was pretending to be asleep. As if he couldn't smell her arousal. Hear her wild heartbeat and uneven breathing. Feel her uncertainty and nervousness. It was past Midnight, Sunday then. No School. Did the Slayer attend church? She was unnaturally still and he smiled watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Didn't want to admit she wanted him here so she pretended to sleep so she wouldn't be forced to kick him out because of her pride. He could understand pride.


He considered pulling his jeans off, he usually slept nude, but with a twinge of self disgust for caring he remembered how shy she was. So Without further thought he slid into her bed and scooted under the covers with her. She stiffened but he ignored it and snaked his arm around her pulling her close to his body. "What are you doing?" She asked sharply, same tone from earlier. Wasn't able to keep her pretty gob shut.

"Going to Bed." She sat up and scooted back against her headboard. Giving him a glimpse of the little silk top she wore. The flimsy material molded to her pert little titties. She must know how she was turning him on.

"You aren't sleeping here!" She squawked. "Go downstairs."

"My Demon needs you close Summers." She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "You haven't been able to sleep either Goldilocks, it's only for one bleedin' night. Tomorrow we'll have this all sorted out and I won't want to be around you anymore."

"This is insane, you are not sleeping in my bed!" She scooted over further and lay back against her pillows, putting her arms along her sides, cocooning her body beneath the blanket. "Go downstairs or I'll lock you in the basement." Before she could realize what he was up to he grabbed the blanket and tossed it to the floor. She had on a cream little set of silk pajamas. A sleeveless little number that came to just above her belly button and a pair of silk shorts that rode high on her thighs with little slits up the side. She sprang up to a sitting position and shouted. "Hey!" Then she grabbed for the blanket, giving him a wonderful view of her backside before she clutched the blanket to her chest.

"This isn't about me sleeping here Slayer. You're afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off my tight hard body." The Slayer got up on her knees, fuming mad, wrapped from shoulders to knee's in her blanket.

"You are so delusional Spike! We were under a spell thingy! Trust me, now you don't even have a chance!"

He cocked his head to the side and looked her up and down. Which made her seethe with rage. Taunting the Slayer was so much more fun than the telly. "S'that Right?"

She nodded her pert little head "That's Right."

Spike Pulled himself to his knees, legs spread on the bed. Leaving little to nothing to the imagination. She flushed a lovely shade of pink. "So you never got hot and bothered around me before tonight?" She was even more fun to bait than the great Poof.

"What are you talking about?" She snapped.

"I'm a Vampire, Slayer. I know every time your panties soak through. And I can't think of a single fight we've had that wasn't spiced with the sweet scent of your arousal." The outraged look on her face was just priceless. "In point of Fact..." She punched him in the nose sending him sprawling on the floor. He leapt to his feet in game face and squared off against her. She had jumped to her feet as well, no longer ashamed of her clothing as she held up her cute little fists. She didn't hold them quite right; you'd never guess that she could actually throw a punch. He reached out and grabbed the edge of the mattress sending her toppling and squealing to the floor on the other side of the bed. Now she was right brassed off.

He vaulted the bed to land opposite her just in time to jump hastily in order to avoid her flying feet. Then she managed to nail him in his abdomen as he was staring at the flash of panties he saw when she kicked out at him. Bint ought to Slay in that little number; Vamps would be too distracted to fight back...Kind of like him now.


She flipped to her feet and came at him fists flying. She managed to get past him with two punches, but neither connected well. "Tell me Slayer, I have to know." She kicked him into the wall and the drywall cracked. She wasn't going to be happy when she noticed it. He picked her up by her arms and tossed her into the door, gaining him a minute to snark, and to ogle the delightful bounce of her breasts under that bitty excuse for a top. "Is it all Vampires that get you revved up, or is it just me?"

She came at him, fists flying, hair wild, eyes flashing. Sweet Mary mother of Jesus she was a sight. "Vampires" Punch, he blocked. "Do" Punch, He blocked again. "Not" Punch, Ouch. "Get" Punch, he dodged. "Me" She Punched, Ouch again. "Hot!" And she slammed her foot into his ribs sending him flying back at least three feet, where he tripped over the sprawled mattress. In a split second she was on him, straddling his middle, hand drawn back to stake him. But she had no stake. He couldn't help the startled laugh that escaped his lips, his demon slipping away leaving him with human features.

"Going to slay me with air Pet?" She glanced at her hand with such a genuine look of surprise and then blew his mind when she laughed too. A sweet honeyed sound that he didn't hear too often, and never directed at him. Something shifted and softened inside him, his hands came up to grip her hips and he smiled at her. And she smiled back. Finally she got off him and he climbed to his feet.

"You ruined my bed!" She wailed, hands on hips. "Help me fix the mattress." He didn't even realize that he had simply bent to her will until they were straitening up the covers and he suddenly stood up stiffly, horrified. He could deal with protective, and possessive, and maybe even fondness because of the bond they shared. But he'd be damned if he would allow himself to start having fluffy soft feelings and let her lead him around by the nose. Spike was no one's lap dog! If he did something for her that was one thing, but not because she told him to. This was unacceptable. Fix the bed Spike, Yes mistress, whatever you Say Mistress. Bloody Buggering Hell! "What?" She asked.

He turned on his heel and left the room, stomping down the stairs. He threw himself down on the couch and closed his eyes. Willing sleep to come even though it was at least two hours till dawn. Fuck! The Watcher had best have a way to sort this out on the morrow because the affection he was feeling for Buffy while she was sprawled on top of him laughing earlier crossed the line. He couldn't blame that completely on the bond. It was genuine. And that was very very frightening. Bloody Hell! And still he found himself listening to the sound of her climbing back into bed.







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