My Darkness

by SpikesKat

What was it people said about enemies? That they sometimes make the best lovers? No tender emotions to cloud one’s physical release. Nothing more than a hard fuck to relieve the body of pent up energy. 

Seeing the Slayer for the first time, watching her gyrate her body to the beat, easily outclassing the two hangers-on by her side, and Spike’s plans to just watch the girl, to study her moves, took a back seat to the lust now racing through his body. 

Oh, there’d be no doubt he’d eventually kill her – that’s what he did after all. Slay Slayers. 

But, they would dance before they danced. 

Willing or not, made no never mind to him.  

He watched her from the shadows and realized the second she sensed something was off inside the club. That there was a “baddie” in her midst. The graceful line of her spine became taut with nervous energy. Tension radiated from every pore, making her movements jerky, less fluid. Out of sync with the beat. 

That would soon change. 

Soon they’d be dancing to their own special rhythm. 

Spike licked his lips in anticipation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

She was good, he’d give her that. Better than the two others he’d had – though the second one had had some skills. Maybe it was her kid that had given her a slight edge, made her resist the death wish he knew Slayer’s were wont to have. 

Still, he was pumped from a fresh kill, and she’d been winded from her recent battle with the fledge he’d sent to get her out in the open. Tonight had been about observing, but seeing her kneeling there in the darkened alley amidst the dust of her last opponent, her breasts heaving with exertion and displayed to perfection beneath the light blue halter, Spike decided to just take her now. 

Fighting always got him hard – whether he was doing it or watching it. And with his sire so sickly and unable to give him a good seeing too, he figured he may as well let it be the Slayer. 

It had been a while since he’d had a human, had forgotten how hot their pussies could get. Molten heat. Not something he’d ever experience with his sire. And no matter how good she was, how she could make the pain give way to such mind-numbing pleasure, nothing… nothing could compare to sinking his dick into a nice hot quim. 

Spike ducked a blow she aimed for his head; he’d yet to actually have one of his own land. Because he didn’t want to mar her flesh… yet. He only wanted to tire her out. 

“Nice try, luv,” he smirked, then bent low and swept her off her feet with his outstretched leg. 

Spike watched her land hard on her back, watched her breasts bobble from the impact. He couldn’t wait to sink his fangs into them. Both of them. Damn, but the sight of her had him harder than he’d been in awhile. A good long while. 

“I’m not your ‘love,’” she growled back and vaulted back to her feet. Her hands came up in front of her, fisted. Waiting for another opening so she could try and hit him again. 

He could stay here all night and spar with her. And honestly, that’s all he was doing – sparring. He could have easily taken her. She was unarmed, without her weapon.  

Just ripe for the picking. 

Whereas he was more than ready for her. Fists and fangs were all he needed to do a Slayer in. His had been in place after she’d tried to geld him with her foot. The bitch. 

Not that he didn’t admire the underhanded tactic, as long as it wasn’t his bits about to get smashed; he could appreciate a girl that could think on her feet. She was a scrapper. No doubt about it. No code of honor when it came to fighting for this one. 

She fought dirty – whatever it took to get the job done. 

Too bad he was just like her, and wasn’t a bit above using underhanded tactics himself. Which was why he was still standing there, instead of dust beneath her kick-ass boots. 

He could tell she was on the last of her reserves and moved in for the proverbial kill. He’d toyed with her enough for now. Her friends could show any time, and he’d rather not let it get out that he was in town. 

“Say goodnight, Slayer.” 

Spike moved before she had a chance to retort. In the blink of an eye, he had her back pressed against the brick wall of the club, his fangs buried in her throat, his slightly larger frame pinning her in place. 

He’d forgotten how good Slayer blood tasted. And how bloody horny it made him. Damned if he wasn’t about to come in his jeans. 

He nearly drained her dry before he realized it, she tasted that sweet. Her heart was pumping wildly inside her chest, trying to make up for what it was losing. She’d gone slack in his arms, her head lolled to the side, mouth open on a silent gasp, eyes at half mast. 

She looked liked she’d just been fucked. 

And hard. 

Not yet… but she soon would be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

With the Slayer’s arms and legs now secured to the bedposts, Spike sat back to admire his handiwork. She was still in a daze from the loss of blood, he noticed, his eyes skimming over her slightly pale, nude body as it lay atop the bedspread.  

He took in her well-shaped breasts, the dusky areoles and tiny nipples. Perfect and unmarred. For the time being. Only for the time being. Before the night was through, there’d be marks aplenty on both of them. And she’d beg him for every single one of them.

His eyes continued their journey south. One hand traced the imaginary line down the center of her body from the middle of her perky tits, then lower, towards her navel, tracing the outer edge a few times. He smirked at seeing the Slayer stir enough to flinch away – or try to anyway. He’d not left her much slack with her bindings… hadn’t left her any slack, really.

“Please… don’t…” she begged softly, seeing the direction of his gaze, the unholy gleam in his eye. His hands, and how they wouldn’t stop touching her. 

Spike saw the tears in her eyes and damned if he didn’t want to lean over and lick them up. Ignoring her, he continued his little exploration; his fingers reached the curls covering her sex. Dark curls, he noticed. She was no more a natural blond than he.  

She squirmed again, her movements beginning to border on hysteria.  

“Stop. Please. Just kill me. Don’t—” 

Don’t rape her. 

Hmmm…

His hand stilled between her legs, his fingers leaving off from toying with the outer folds of her pussy.

Yeah, he could rape her. Hell, he’d planned on doing just that when he’d overpowered her back in the alley outside the Bronze. Feeling her struggle against him, trying to break free of her bindings but unable to do so, got his demon off. But seeing her now… it was almost too easy. There was no challenge.

His eyes narrowed on her face, turned away from him and trying to sink into the pillow, eyes closed tightly and refusing to look at him, or anything. 

What if he could make her want him? Want what he could make her feel? Have her beg him for it even? Beg the Big Bad to fuck her good and proper-like. 

Oh yeah… now there’s a challenge. 

He grinned and stood, stepping away from the bed entirely. She didn’t move as he removed his duster with precise motions and laid it on the bureau. His red shirt and black tee quickly followed, leaving him bare from the waist up. He sat down in a chair and started to remove his boots, but a sound from the living room stayed his hand. 

The Slayer heard it too. 

Her eyes opened and she lifted her head to locate Spike; her mouth opened to protest his leaving to see to the houses occupants. 

“Back in a jiffy, luv.” 

“Spike…” 

He ignored her and walked out of the master bedroom and towards the living room. 

The owner of the house he’d appropriated for tonight’s festivities had rolled from his back to his stomach and was trying to crawl towards the kitchen and the telephone, no doubt to call the police. Spike had to roll his eyes at the man’s foolishness. 

“Ah ah ah…” he chided and delivered a well-placed kick to the man’s head. Blood spurted from his mouth and his demon reveled in the strong, tangy scent that suddenly permeated the air. He watched impassively as the man fell onto his back, unconscious once again. 

“Shoulda’ just bloody ate you,” he grumbled as he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the basement. He would have eaten him too, but figured he could save him for later, once the sun had come up and he found himself a bit peckish. It would save him having to go out later, leaving him with more time to play with the Slayer. 

In the basement, he found some sturdy rope and made quick work of tying the man’s arms and legs, then grabbed a small cloth and stuffed it his mouth. Satisfied he wasn’t going to cause him more trouble, Spike climbed the steps and returned to the Slayer. 

He had a plan to set in motion. 

“You killed him, didn’t you?” the Slayer asked anxiously when he returned to the room. 

Spike shrugged his shoulders. 

“Not yet… why?” 

“Leave him alone… you’ve got me. Just…” 

“You trying to barter yourself for him? You forget, Slayer, I’ve already got you.” 

“I won’t fight you,” she whispered. 

Spike couldn’t help it, he chuckled in amusement. 

“I won’t…” she promised. “Just… don’t hurt him. Please…” The forced entreaty was a foul taste on her lips. 

“Sorry, Slayer. Much as I like you all… what’s the word…? docile-like… he’s breakfast.” 

“I hate you,” she hissed, a bit of backbone creeping into her voice. 

“Course you do. You’re the Slayer, I’m a vampire. ‘s the natural order of things,” he told her matter-of-factly and sat down in the chair he’d vacated earlier to remove his boots and socks. 

“I’ll scream.” 

“I’m counting on it.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

Spike quirked his brow, saying nothing. 

“Just wait… Angel will find me… he’ll… he’ll stake you. He’s—” 

“Angelus? Angelus is here?” Spike sat back in his chair, a huge grin on his face. “Oh… that’s bloody priceless! Souled up wanker is trying to play at being a vampire on the Hellmouth. Talk about your bloody irony.” 

“Just wait… you hurt me and—” 

“Angelus is gonna stake me… yeah, I got that bit. Only trouble is… how’s he gonna get in, pet? Vamp’s gotta have an invite. Hmmm… guess the human gets to live after all. At least until I’m done with you.” 

He stood, leering at the girl as he unsnapped the button on his jeans and lowered the zipper. Carefully. The erection he’d been sporting since the alley had yet to go away and the last thing he needed was to have it caught in the steel teeth as he removed his pants.

The Slayer, he was please to see, lay there on the bed, her eyes riveted to the motions of his hands… at least until his cock sprang free. He kept his eyes trained on her as he stepped out of his jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Her eyes were squeezed shut again and she was tugging frantically at her bonds. 

Not that it would do her any good. 

The bonds would have been difficult to break even if she’d been at full strength. Hampered as she was by the blood he’d taken from her, her slight struggles were doing nothing more than turning him on – not that he wasn’t already rock hard and raring for a piece. 

“Mmmm, pet. Wiggle a little more for me, would ya? I like watching those titties of yours bounce up and down. Makes me want to just sink my fangs into ‘em.” 

His words were like a bucket of ice cold water being poured on the Slayer; she stilled abruptly, refusing to provide any more of a show than she’d already given him. She bit her bottom lip to hold back the retort that sprang automatically to her lips. Eyes narrowed to tiny slits as she glared up at him. 

She was through mincing words with the vampire. 

If she was going to die, it was going to be with her dignity intact.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy’s eyes widened comically as she saw Spike settle himself between her outstretched legs and then lower his head towards her crotch. 

Surely he wasn’t…? 

“Argh! Ahhh… ohhh…” What started out as a startled gasp settled into a low moan of pleasure. “What… no… don’t…!” 

Spike ignored her and continued to tease her outer folds with his tongue. 

Don’t think about the vampire between your legs. Don’t think about the vampire between your legs. Don’t think— 

“Oh god… please…” 

“Please what, Slayer?” Spike purred, his mouth hovering above the Slayer’s pussy, inhaling the earthy scent of her arousal. Fuck, but she smelled good. 

“Please stop… just kill me,” she begged. “Don’t—” Make me feel like this. It’s not… right. 

“That what you really want, Slayer?” His voice was whisper-soft. The air he expelled when he spoke wafting over glistening curls, causing her to twitch. “Your pussy seems to like my tongue…” Spike gave her slit another swipe with his tongue, grinning when she instinctively arched her hips in an attempt to seek more. Talk all she wanted, the girl was getting off on what he was doing to her. Was bloody well enjoying it even. 

Silence greeted his brief commentary, and his eyes lifted from her pussy to her face, taking in her flushed features. Her eyes were squeezed shut again, and she was biting that bottom lip of hers. He made a mental note to do the same at some point. 

“Look at me, Slayer,” he urged, his voice dripping honey. 

Apparently she wasn’t having it, because she was shaking her head ‘no’ rather frantically. 

Spike shifted slightly so that his mouth now teased her inner thigh. He drew his tongue back and forth along the imaginary line of her femoral artery, teasing her with the possibility of his bite. Not that he was going to just yet… but she didn’t know that. 

“Come on, Slayer. It’s a rather simple request. Look at me.” 

Well… maybe just a little nibble. 

Blunt teeth sank into her flesh, startling her into sudden compliance. Her gaze locked with his and Spike smiled and let go, brushing a gentle kiss against the spot he’d bitten. 

“There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” 

Spike shifted again, back so that his face was once more hovering over the Slayer’s pussy. Her eyes followed him, he was pleased to see. 

“They say women get off on watchin’ a man eat ‘em out. Gets their juices flowin’, if you know what I mean.” A pointed look and then Spike slid his hands beneath the Slayer’s ass and lifted her hips off the mattress. “Watch me, Slayer. Watch me pleasure you with my tongue until you come.” 

Spike bent his head to his task, his eyes never leaving the Slayer’s. A handful of swipes and then he plunged his tongue in as far as it would go. In and out, in and out, until she was bucking against him.

Look away, Buffy. Look away… For god’s sake… look away! 

But she couldn’t. Like passing a train wreck or something equally horrific, her eyes remained glued to the spot where his head was situated between her outstretched legs. She watched him watching her, his blue eyes twinkling with humor, and something else… arousal. 

There was nothing cold or calculated in his gaze now and for whatever reason Buffy took that as a sign to quit fighting her body and just let it happen. Her muscles grew taut and she could feel a steady pressure building in her lower abdomen. 

“Spike,” she whimpered, straining against her bonds. She wanted to wrap her legs around his head and grind his face into where he was working so diligently. When he suddenly stopped, Buffy nearly wept, a protest forming on her lips. 

Then she felt his mouth close over a new area and something cool and thin slip inside her – his finger – and mimic what his tongue had been doing. 

“Oh!” 

“Like that, do you?” 

Buffy couldn’t answer him. Pleasure was slowly engulfing her, making her incapable of speech. Incapable of doing anything really, except react to the gentle pressure of fingers stretching her as they filled her and the mouth that had latched onto a part of her she’d not realized was so sensitive. Teeth, tongue and lips working her into a frenzy. Her heart seemed to be pumping twice as hard as it normally was. Her ears were ringing with the sound of her blood rushing through her veins. 

And then it happened. 

If asked at a later date, Buffy would have sworn she left her body when her orgasm hit. Like she watched herself arch off the bed, and even with the blood Spike had drunk to make her weak, she could still hear the wood of the four-poster bed creak beneath the strain of her limbs pulling against their bonds. Her head was thrown back and she screamed, loud and long. Something unintelligible… almost animalistic. 

It felt good, like nothing she’d ever felt before. So good that she didn’t care that it was Spike that had made her feel it. So good that she didn’t want the feeling to end. Ever. 

And then the intense pleasure started to ebb. A feeling of lassitude invaded her body and she was floating along in the aftermath, eyes closed, a slight smile on her face as she sank back into the mattress.

At least until Spike opened his mouth. 

“Feels good… doesn’t it?” he smirked. 

Her eyes flew opened and locked with his. 

“I hate you,” she hissed, anger her first reaction to his taunting remark. 

“Well, yeah…” he snorted, as if that were a given. Then his lids lowered slightly and he gifted her with a look that had lured many a human – male and female alike – to his side… and their eventual death. His voice dropped a notch, his next words rolling off his tongue like honey. “But… you liked my tongue… my fingers… in your cunny. Liked how it made you feel. Was good, Slayer, wasn’t it? And you want me to do it again, don’t you? Make you come real hard with just my tongue…” 

Buffy shook her head, trying to deny what he was saying. Righteous anger quickly giving way to horror and then shame. God, he was right. She did want it. Wanted that be all end all release he’d just given her where nothing mattered. Not good or evil, right or wrong… just the intense pleasure she felt in that single moment as her release washed over her. 

Her eyes filled with tears and spilled over onto her cheeks.

“Shhh…” Spike crooned, while inside he secretly crowed. “Spike’ll take care of you. Give you what you need…” When he felt the fight go out of the Slayer, he hid his smile and lowered his head to her pussy once more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

He’d expected her to be tight. She was such an itty bitty thing, this Slayer.

He’d also expected the heat.

In that, she bloody well hadn’t disappointed. Far from it, in fact. Her inner muscles had sheathed him so perfectly, squeezing him in all the right places. She was nicely lubricated, taking him in easy enough, thanks to the orgasms he’d already given her. Her little mewls of encouragement egging him on; he had her begging right proper. 

She’d long since given up thinking of him as an evil thing. Instead, he was the man that had begun introducing her to the pleasures of the flesh – it mattered not that they were sworn enemies. First he’d shown her with only his mouth and hands, bringing her off with an ear-shattering scream. Twice. She’d writhed beneath him, arms and legs so close to breaking the bonds that tied her in place. 

If he’d not drained as much blood from her as he had before starting this venture, she probably would have been free now. Instead of tense beneath him, crying out in pain as he broke through her hymen. 

The Slayer was a virgin, or had been until moments ago. A bloody virgin! Given the time period and her age, he didn’t think such a thing was still possible. 

His response was instinctive; his fangs were buried in her throat before he could stop himself. Her blood spilled onto his tongue, drowning him anew. The smell and taste of her… he was surrounded by her.

At first he’d wanted only to drain her and fuck her into death, having complete submission, her need for him, a twisted game, not unlike his sire, Angelus, used to do. Now… now, with her pussy squeezed tight around his throbbing cock, he wanted nothing more than to claim her as his and keep her forever. Avail himself to her heat whenever, and wherever, he wanted. Thoughts of forever made his dick twitch and though he’d not moved an inch since plunging through her virginal barrier, his cock now buried deep in her quim, he couldn’t prevent the tiny twist of his hips he made. 

Her breath had hitched when he’d bitten into her neck and she’d held it… until now. Her soft sigh as she slowly exhaled was music to his ears and he grinned around the flesh in his mouth. ‘You’re mine now, Slayer,’ he thought and took another shallow pull of her blood. He felt her hips rise, seeking more pressure against her clit, and he was half tempted to undo her legs so he could feel them wrap around his back and pull him in tight. Maybe next time. And there most definitely would be a next time. Then another… and another. 

Spike pulled back slightly, stifling the groan that sprang to his lips when the strangling pressure on his cock eased as he withdrew. Already missing the heat. He wanted to feel that – the muscles of the Slayer’s vaginal walls wrapped around his length, the pressure they exerted… and the heat.

Having withdrawn as far as he could, given their positions, he gave in to his need, and with a muffled curse that was her name, he finally allowed himself to ease back inside her pussy. He felt the muscles give way as he slid home, and damned if he wasn’t close to coming already.

Come hither, hither, pretty fly… 

The children’s poem sprang into his head unbidden, and he didn’t know if it was he or the Slayer that was trapped in the silk webbing of the spider.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike slipped free of the Slayer, jaw clenched against the denial ready to spring forth from his lips. Fuck, but he wanted to sink back into her flesh. Avail himself of her body again. Already he could feel his cock start to swell. 

Which was why he didn’t.  

This was his game, not hers. She was going to be begging him, not the other way around. 

He knelt between her parted thighs and admired his handy work.  

The girl’s hair was mussed. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and from where she’d bitten them to keep from screaming. Her eyelids were at half mast, her gaze unfocused rather than staring at him with deadly intent. 

He took note of her heaving chest and the erratic pulse beating away in her neck. The blood smeared on her pale thighs.  

Not one to waste, Spike bent down and licked her legs clean.  

Ah… tasty. Virgin blood of a Slayer… 

~*~ 

It took a moment before Buffy realized what Spike was doing. Only she was too weak, too sated, to do anything more than watch his tongue wipe away the evidence of her virginity. Couldn’t be bothered to voice her objection as he moved from her legs to her sex and began lapping her there. 

Oh God. 

Dirty. So dirty.  

And she wanted more.  

More of his tongue. More of his dick.  

God, she was sick.  

Twisted. 

Dirty.

The End...

Want to leave a REVIEW?