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unbeta'd fic ahead

chapter 17
While Buffy didn't have many details of his time in Los Angeles away from her, somehow she had the gut feeling that being evil didn't top the charts of his nightly activities. There seemed to be a calmer edge to him now; a sense of peace that certainly influenced his demeanor. This Spike was smoother around the edges and appeared to have a handle on that evil, impulsive aspect of his demon than the version that had slunk away from Sunnydale all those months ago.

Buffy found herself comforted by this.

"So... Let me just get this straight. Instead of searching me out and throwing me over your shoulder to have your wicked way with- because hello- you're evil; you killed time by buying a club and becoming all Mr. Business guy? To what, make yourself respectable?"

"Had to pass the time somehow," was his muffled reply and Buffy suddenly gasped, tensing ever so slightly before having to consciously will her body to relax. Spike's face was nuzzling its way deeper into her lap, and his nose had just found her crotch, brushing up against a suddenly sensitive portion of her anatomy that really hadn't had much attention before now.

She missed the self-satisfied smile that curved over his generous lips at her body's response to him before he continued his explanation, "Wanted to give you some time to grow up, you know? But as soon as I saw you in my club, I knew I wasn't bloody waiting any longer."

Buffy breath hitched in her throat as his words washed over her, confirming her initial suspicion of his noble sacrifice. He had wanted to wait until she was older. That alone boggled her mind and made her fall that much more.

When his probing nose become more insistent, thinking suddenly became a problem.

"God, you smell like heaven," Spike murmured, carefully rolling to his stomach while he breathed in the succulent scent of her burgeoning arousal. Completely in tune with her body's response to his touch, he wanted to see her face, finding himself oddly unsure whether to take things any further. He hadn't been lying when he had informed her that his motives for bringing her to his suite hadn't been with sexual intent, but neither was he quite the noble type any longer. Gone was the bumbling Victorian gentleman he had once been; but a part of that poncey git still remained which left Spike, the not-quite-so evil hybrid in its wake.

He noted with smug satisfaction that her head was tipped back to rest against the back of the couch, her eyes had fluttered shut, and her succulent lips were slightly parted... God, that mouth....

Watching her reaction, he deliberately bumped her clit with his nose again, his cock jumping to life at the small gasp of pleasure she rewarded him with. Christ, she was so responsive...

Suddenly unable to leave that mouth alone, he rose up on his forearms and captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her squeak of surprise. Spike thrust his tongue boldly into the sanctuary of her mouth, his lips slated against hers intently. He nipped and sucked at her bottom lip while coaxing a similar response from her. Her actions were timid at first but quickly grew more assured with each growl of pleasure she elicited from him. His hands skimmed the length of her torso to settle on her hips, and Spike quickly slipped her pliant body beneath his on the couch before settling himself intimately between her thighs. Her short skirt bunched up around her hips and Buffy failed to even notice.

At her enthusiastic response, Spike found himself desperate in his need to consume her, to ultimately possess her. At the same time came the knowledge that he would halt his ardent attention at a mere word from her. In a span of a short while, a torch had been lit and he now was at her complete mercy. She was his everything.

The intimacy they had shared on stage paled in comparison to what was raging between them now. Spike felt as if he had come home. After a hundred plus year, he had found his reason for existing.

Spike could taste the power that ran deep within her as her tongue shoved his own back and fought for dominance. That underlying signature that identified her as the One. A low growl rumbled unknowingly from his chest as his demon responded to the potent taste and to what exactly he had beneath him.

The Slayer.

With a groan, his hips arched forward, grinding his denim strained cock against her sweet mound, the succulent smell of her desire only fueling him on.

One cool hand slipped under the flimsy tank, pushing up the silky wisp of a bra she wore and the ripened peach he found waiting for him fit his palm perfectly as he kneaded the pebbled tip lightly between his thumb and forefinger.
*****
Buffy was in shock. A dazed, delicious shock. She had no idea THIS could feel so good and found herself willing to totally put herself into Spike's very talented hands. One kiss and... wow. Without thought, she opened her legs up wider and encouraged him to make himself at home because whatever he was doing with pelvic grindage felt too good to put a stop to.

When she felt his hand close over her breast, she instinctively arched into his hand while his mouth continuing to devour hers. God, Spike could kiss, she thought dreamily.

"Christ, you feel so good," Spike groaned, breaking free from her lips and pressing a moist trail to her jaw. His hand found its way to her other breast, moving aside the thin slip of lace that accounted for lingerie.

"Can't wait to taste you," he murmured hungrily into her ear while he traced the outer shell with his talented tongue and sucked on the lobe, mindful of her multitudes of earrings. His breath against her sensitive skin created a new deluge of desire to pour through her and her head fell to the side at his gentle urgings, a throaty sigh passing over her lips.

Her hands began their own exploration, diving under the soft cotton of his t-shirt to seek the taut muscles that lay beneath. The not-quite normal temperature of the flesh she was caressing refused to register but as his lips moved to her neck, she instinctively tensed. This vulnerable position she had voluntarily put herself in caused the first tendrils of alarm to be sounded and it was at that moment that Buffy realized EXACTLY what it was she was doing.

She was having a heavy duty make-out session with a vampire. An UNSAFE vampire. As in, Spike. Not Angel, who she had previously thought was her everything. This was Spike. Dangerous, sans soul Spike.

And why was that getting her hot and not providing fodder for major freakage??

When his mouth left her neck unscathed and traveled south to suddenly latch around her newly bared cleavage, she decided fodder was overrated. Her body was pretty much virgin territory except to her own curious explorations, yet as Spike worshiped the peak of one very sensitive nipple with his talented tongue before moving to pay homage to its mate, Buffy realized with unrelenting certainty that the fact it was Spike that was giving her this sensually guided tour towards womanhood was all kinds of good.

It was pure instinct that had her lifting her hips to seek the friction of his protruding erection, the coarse denim chafing the tender skin of her inner thighs. Her hands roamed up and down his back, luxuriating in the feel of the hard flesh under her fingers. Spike fit her perfectly. In every way, she realized with blinding clarity. He was her equal. Buffy had a freaky feeling that more spell unlocking was taking place, but found she didn't even care. This was one revelation she would embrace with as much passion as he was creating within her.

He was hers.

Spike growled low in his chest when he felt the searing heat of her quim undulating against his rock hard cock and he moved his hips to give them both the friction they craved. Lifting his head up from the succulent perfection of her breasts, he studied her face, awe coming to light when he took note of the wanton ecstasy on proud display.

While his demon gloried at being the one to reduce the Slayer into a quivering mass of desire, the man within him wanted to immortalize this moment, to have it imprinted in his brain forever.

Because she was perfection.

Drawing his hand down the length of her body in a possessive sweep, Spike was rewarded by a throaty moan as his fingers danced along the gentle swell of her hips, urging the already indecent skirt to hike up further, revealing the satin wisp that barely did the job of covering her to his hungry eyes. With slow deliberateness, Spike slipped one finger under the flimsy material seeking the ambrosia he knew would be waiting, already practically drowning in her musky scent.
***
Buffy knew Spike was watching her response but when his talented fingers made their way inside her thong, all sense of purposed embarrassment fled until there was only...him. And the way he made her feel. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her; each gentle probe, each stroke almost calculated to bring her to the edge of an almost absolute frenzy of pleasure.

"Oh god...." Buffy breathed when his thumb found her clit, her hands suddenly gripping his shoulders as if in danger of falling. Pressure built up in the pit of Buffy's stomach and she instinctively began to move against him when he slipped one finger into her tight, wet channel. She could practically feel his intent stare pinned on her as her head thrashed from side to side, every fiber in her being clamoring for release.

When Spike lowered his head to once again capture a rosy tip into his greedy mouth, suckling and teasing it with his tongue, Buffy's world suddenly dropped out.

With a surprised scream, an intense burst of indescribable pleasure suddenly flooded and encompassed her entire body, wave after wave of shimmering ecstasy pummeling every fiber of her being. Under the assault of such foreign sensation, Buffy failed to feel the forehead ridges that suddenly emerged to rub against her tender skin nor the fangs that subsequently dropped into the meaty swell above the pebbled tip that Spike had been been giving worship to.

As the last tremors of her earth-shattering orgasm jerked through her, Buffy's brain slowly regrouped and began to process information once more. A lazy languid feeling took root, but when her spider sense threatened to defeat the afterglow, Buffy opened her eyes.

To find Spike's fangs embedded in her breast.

And why did that not bother her as much as it should?
tbc...

Thank you sooo much for all of your reviews!!





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