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Don’t Touch Me!

The smell of Slayer blood woke him. Buffy was curled around him, one of her legs between his, her breasts pressed up against him. His face was buried against her neck. He groaned. Her blood was pumping away. Singing to him like the Siren's. He lay there for a minute, struggling with his demon before slowly climbing out of bed. Careful not to wake her. He hadn't fed. If he bit her now he wouldn't stop and the thought of her cold and lifeless calmed his demon. He needed to hunt. He was down the stairs and almost to the door before he began to worry.

What if she woke up while he was gone and she panicked again? He'd only be gone a fucking hour, he'd just eat the first person he came across and be right back. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and agonized. What if she needed him? He had promised he wasn't going anywhere. Fuck! Bloody Hell! Then he remembered that the Watcher had left blood in the fridge. Blood out of a bag, how pathetic was that? He wondered how bad it would taste even as he made his way into the cheery Summers kitchen.

He opened the fridge and grimaced at the dozen bags of blood. Clearly from the hospital, marked with blood type. He grabbed one and frowned at the microwave. It would be better warm. So he tossed it in and put the microwave on for three minutes. He had no idea how long it took for blood to warm. About half way through he got nervous and opened the microwave to check on it. Good thing too because the damn bag was hot to the touch. Too hot. Fuck! He was out of alcohol. He'd had blood mixed with Bourbon often enough, probably wouldn't taste so bad. God he was the Poof! Buffy was domesticating him! No, this was a one time thing. Just until she felt better.

Juggling the bag around for a minute, he shrugged, vamped and drained it. Might as well get it over with. It was hotter than it should be but really not that bad. It tasted like normal blood, but it lacked the flavor of the kill, the struggle, the smell of fear. The taste of skin. It was boring. He grabbed another bag throwing it in for sixty seconds and paced until the bell signaled. He drained that one as well, tossing them in the bin. No reason to stay down here, maybe his sweet Slayer would be in the mood to reward him for his good behavior.

He paused at the stairs and then turned to go outside instead. He threw open the trunk and rummaged around for his bag of clothes. Couldn't wear these jeans forever. Needed to wash Slayer blood out of his shirt. He slammed the trunk closed and braced his hands on the back of the car. Fuck. His car had been parked here for two nights straight, if the whole demon community didn't know where he was it was a miracle. Not that he gave a fuck about them, but he didn't want Dru to get wind of it. If she found out he had spent the night at the Slayer's she was as good as lost to him. In point of fact, if he didn't figure out how to cut the Slayer loose she was lost to him anyway. And he didn't have any more booze. He briefly considered just running up the street to the quickly mart. He could eat the girl behind the counter and help himself to some scotch. But he wasn't hungry and didn't want to leave his Slayer.

He took the stairs two at a time but paused in the doorway to her bedroom. She was sprawled in bed, on her back, arms flung out. He'd only been gone thirty minutes, but his absence had made her restless. One leg was sticking out of the comforter. Golden and impossibly long. His cock grew hard as he stood there for a long stretch just watching her breathe. She was beautiful. All tawny and sweet. Did he want to keep her? Of course he didn't. She was the Bloody Slayer and he hated her. He loved Dru. This tenderness he had for her was just his demon being possessive of his mate. He needed to find a way to end this and get his dark princess back. But in the last two days he had barely thought of her. He was more worried then anything else. By now he should be craving her. But she wasn't who he wanted right now. He wanted a Golden Goddess. And he could have her if he wanted.

He wracked his brain trying to think of a way to fix this whole mess. He had been counting on the Watcher. The man was Bloody Brilliant. He had a Witch at his disposal and all the resources of the flaming council. His spell had flopped in the worst possible way. Spike had felt as if his very demon was being ripped from his body. Worse, he had never been more desperate and terrified in his existence as when he thought he was losing his mate. Made no sense what so ever. After all it's what he wanted. But his instincts took over and he had been frantic to get to her. And Buffy. Human's, even Slayers, weren't built to withstand that sort of trauma.

The memory of his girl shrieking and banging her fists on a barrier as solid as the invitation barrier made him shake with rage. He had wanted to kill them all. Rip out their spines and bleed them dry. If Buffy hadn't been absolutely hysterical he would have torn them apart. Starting with the Watcher and ending with the Whelp. Luckily, by the time she had finally calmed down the rational side of his brain had kicked in.

His Slayer would never forgive him if he hurt her friends. She loved them completely without reserve. If he was honest with himself he knew that they wouldn't willfully hurt her. But would he place his Slayer in their hands again? There was no plan B. He had no idea who to go to for help with this. Once upon a time he would have gone to Angelus, but his soul had changed him and Spike couldn't count on him anymore. When the Poof found out that he had touched Buffy they were going to fight. It was going to be bloody and quite possibly only one of them would walk away from it.

Spike intended to live forever.

He wouldn't dream of taking his Slayer anywhere near any of the dark wizards that he might be able to wangle a favor from. That left the Watcher and the Witch. If he didn't let them help him than she was his until one of them died. Slayers didn't live long but that thought didn't comfort him. He'd do anything to protect her. Strangely enough he had no desire to turn her either. The bond was with living, breathing Buffy. If he turned her that Buffy would die and be replaced by a demon. The thought made his gut clench and his body shake.

The thought of losing her propelled him into the room. He ignored the voice in his head that told him his problems would be solved if she were gone. He went with his gut and right now it was telling him to hold on tight while he could, and to safeguard her no matter what. He climbed into bed and pulled her body into his arms. Instantly he felt complete. Like he was part of a circle. When she wasn't with him the circle was broken. But now he was content. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent. The feel of her silken skin sliding up against him overwhelmed his senses and he moaned, running his hand down her back to her bum. He turned his head and nuzzled her neck. Then gave into the craving and began to place urgent wet kisses on her skin. He felt her beginning to wake and ran his hands firmly over her silken body and into her hair. Her eyes fluttered open, hypnotizing they were. He kissed her full on the mouth and she kissed him back. Tongues tangling in a dance as old as time. Her body rocked into him in that ancient rhythm and he lost control.

Too much damn clothing between her skin and his. He had to feel her. He tried to slide the silky thing down her shoulders but he couldn't think with his leg between hers, rocking against her heat. Her bloody sweet tongue in his mouth, she tasted like honey. So he gave up and ripped the damn thing down the front. He could hear himself talking, even as he worshiped her breasts with his mouth. He was intoxicated by her taste, sweetest thing he'd ever had in his mouth. Her hands were tugging at him, as desperate as he was. In his hair, on his shoulders, pulling him closer. She was making those little cries and moans of pleasure and he about came in his pants when she started fumbling with the button of his jeans. "Fuck Buffy, Want to be inside your tight little box so bad baby." He whispered, pulling back long enough to shuck out of his jeans.

He arched off the bed when her hot little hand closed over his cock. "Oh bleedin yeah, Buffy touch me like that Sweetheart!" She crawled to her knees and began to use her hand to stroke him slowly. "A little harder Slayer, Don't be gentle. Damn!" Her Golden hair was framing her perfect little body. Proud little titties standing at attention. Her dusty rose nipples were still hard and wet from his ministrations earlier. And those panties of hers were driving him insane. He was about to rip them off her and slip inside when she kissed the end of his cock. He let out a low groan and jerked his hips at the pleasure.

She smiled softly with the knowledge of her new found power over him and pulled his cock into her mouth. He was dying again. Her mouth felt incredible, she slowly sank her kiss swollen lips all the way down and slowly back up. Her hair was tickling his thighs. She was so bleedin sexy. He held his hand to her head, careful not to push her down and let himself babble his ecstasy, so she would know how good she made him feel. He felt his balls tighten; he was going to cum hard if she didn't stop. And as much as he would love to shoot in her mouth, he wanted to take her with him even more.

He tightened his hold on her hair and pulled her away from his cock. He gripped her arms and tossed her onto her back, covering her body with his and smashing his lips to hers. He ripped her panties off her body and pulled her legs around him, sliding home with one deep thrust. She was so hot he thought he might burst into flames. Hot and Wet and so Fucking Tight. He had to growl and clutch her hips to keep from Cumming then and there. She arched up to meet him, clawing at his back and moaning his name. "Spike, Oh God, Spike." She chanted as he pushed into her deep and hard, pulling almost completely out and then all the way back in. Her tight little muscles pulled at his cock so hard that if she hadn't been sopping wet he wouldn't have been able to move at all.

She rocked hard with him, her breasts pressing against him, her hips slamming into his. He changed the angle of her hips so that he was brushing up against her clit and she went wild, tossing her head and crying out loudly. Her orgasm hit her hard. Her muscles clamped down around his prick sending him to new heights of pleasure. Then the little hellcat bit into his shoulder to drown her scream and that's all she wrote. He came so hard that he blacked out.

He came to with his head buried in between her breasts. She was shaking all over and so was he. He shifted his weight off of her and nuzzled her sweet little mounds. He realized with a shock that he was breathing in time with her. He had caught himself doing that more than once. She smelled so bleedin good, he was drowning in her scent and her taste. This was his own personal heaven. When he was this close to her she surrounded his senses and he couldn't think about anything else. He was beginning to consider round two, running his hand lazily over her hip and her thigh when he found himself on his back, three feet away from the bed. "What the Fuck is your Bloody Problem?" He roared, jumping to his feet. She pulled the blanket up to cover her body as if he hadn't just had his hands and mouth all over her.

"I told you this couldn't happen again!" She spat. Her hazel eyes flashing in warning. She tossed her head and dared him to challenge her.

"I wasn't in the bleedin' bed alone Slayer!" He growled at her. He stalked back towards the bed, hand rubbing absently over his ribs where her foot had connected. There was nothing gentle about his Slayer. "You wanted it as bad as I did Princess."

"I was half asleep and a wreck from earlier!" She shouted, coming to her knees, clutching her blanket around her. "And don't call me that!" He snorted in disbelief and crawled across the bed to her, getting up close and personal. "Back off Spike!" She snapped. She was breathing hard, her heart beating so damn fast.

"Your going to have to come up with a better excuse than that Slayer, I don't think you're even blond enough to believe that load of drivel. And what's wrong with Princess, you sure like to play high and mighty Luv." He felt the sharp twist of jealousy through the bond and realized with a start what her problem with it was.

"I just don't like it!" She snapped. Of course she didn't. He called Dru that sometimes. He grabbed her and kissed her long and hard. It made his head spin the way she kissed him back in spite of herself. She finally pulled away panting. "Spike, this is wrong, we cannot do this! What about Drusilla?"

"What about her?" He answered and kissed her again, pulling the blanket away from her with a sharp tug and fitting his body against hers. He sat up pulling her in his lap and let his hands run over her slender back. She pulled her head back and let out a little moan. He kissed her throat and her shoulder. Then she spread her knees and sank onto his erection. He jerked his hips in surprise and desperately clutched her closer, pushing himself in deep. She braced her hands on his shoulders and set a steady pace. It was quick, hard and fast. She came almost immediately, clutching at him sporadically and whimpering, her head buried in his shoulder.

Her orgasm triggered his own, waves of pleasure too intense to be real. What was it about this girl that made him react so powerfully? He pulled back to look at her and she met his eyes without fear. That was a big part of it.

"Get out" She almost growled, low and threatening. He flexed his hands at her hips and nuzzled her shoulder while he considered just how much he wanted to defy her wishes. Did he feel like going another round? Even the thought stirred his cock. He began to kiss her neck, giving special attention to his mark. The bite that made her his. He liked seeing it there though he would never admit it to anyone. She twisted against him and made a little mewling sound. She was either going to give in or kick his ass. Either way would be as much fun. It was a powerful feeling, owning a Slayer. The only problem was she owned him back. He could feel her embarrassment and how tired she was. She needed her rest before she faced her friends tomorrow. Who knew what the Watcher would come up with next. She pushed at him suddenly, breaking contact. "I said Get Out."

It was the almost sound of tears that decided him. He didn't want to make her cry. And he was a soddin Ponce for caring. But he couldn't help himself. He kissed her softly on her lips in one final act of defiance before whispering a simple "Fine." He lifted her up off his semi-hard penis and laid her on the bed. She fumbled for her blanket and pulled it around her. It hurt when she turned her head so she wouldn't have to watch him dress. She was all full of embarrassment and shame now. He didn't like that at all. He was half tempted to pounce on her and make her lose control again, make her forget that she thought this was wrong. Bloody Buggering Hell! Why the fuck did it even matter? Instead he pulled on his jeans, grabbed his duffle and left to take a shower. She curled up in bed behind him, buried her head in the pillow. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn't care anymore. And if he did he still wasn't sure what to do about her. Even sharing the most intimate of connections his Slayer was still a mystery to him.







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