by SpikesKat
He snuggled into the warm body and let out a rumbling purr at the contented sigh the action produced. Still half asleep, his arms tightened about the slight form held in his arms.
Surely he was dreaming; the heat given off by his partner was something he knew instinctively he’d not felt since… forever. Much like the sunlight he’d given up the right to ever feel on his face once he’d been turned.
His hand slipped from stomach to thigh and lifted it back over his own. His fingers found the soft thatch of hair by memory alone, traced and rubbed at tender flesh until they were coated with his imaginary partner’s response. Only to be scalded by the inferno of hot, slick muscles having given up teasing both himself and her and finally sought the opening just begging to be filled.
Two fingers became three. His dick ground against the tender curve of ass desperate to be where his fingers were. If the quiet moans he heard were any indication, his partner was equally craving more.
He shifted a bit, removed his fingers to grip his cock and hastily coat himself with her wetness. Her plaintive mewls were silenced when he lined himself up and pushed his way home.
He penetrated her slowly. Felt each bit of muscle clamp down on him before relaxing slightly to his invasion. His low growl of pleasure mingled with her own whimpers as he filled her, until he was in as far as he could go.
Could happily stay here for the rest of my unlife, he thought as he basked in the feel of his dick being squeezed so perfectly, how the goddess in front of him wiggled slightly with the need for him to move. He wanted to, badly, but knew that it would be the beginning of the end after that first initial in and out movement. That the demands of their bodies would take over and send them rushing headlong towards completion.
Then she whispered his name.
A plea.
An acknowledgment of his partner’s desire, if not actual awareness.
It pulled him from his dreams and into wakefulness.
He froze as recognition suddenly dawned. Looked around frantically to determine, yes, he was with the Slayer – was in the Slayer – and they were sprawled on the floor in front of the couch. The watcher’s couch… where he’d been minding his own bloody business before the Slayer had stalked him, body completely devoid of clothing, and complained of being horny.
He was dust.
Or was going to be as soon as she woke up and realized where she was, and what she’d done. And with whom. Was doing it again, in fact.
Strong muscles clamped down on his cock and dragged Spike from his silent musings.
The lady was getting impatient, and far be it for him to deny the Slayer her request. If he was lucky, he’d bring them both off and beat a hasty retreat before she had her wits about her again. The sun had set, enabling him to make good his escape, leave the hellmouth behind once and for all.
Plan set firmly in his mind, Spike bent to his task, nuzzling into her neck – something he couldn’t help but notice that she really liked – while his fingers went to work on any piece of flesh they happened to encounter. His hips rocked against hers, and he moaned against her neck as she pushed back into him.
It was perfect… and so bloody wrong. Who knew that he’d one day be making love with his mortal enemy.
An image of his sire crystallized in his mind.
I can still see her floating all around you… Why won't you push her away?
Oh god. Drusilla. She’d known. Known that it would come to this between him and the Slayer. Known that no matter how hard he tried to resist otherwise, he’d been snared. Entranced from the first moment he’d laid eyes on the girl.
The Slayer’s body grew taut as she neared orgasm. Her sleep-induced ramblings became more coherent as the pleasure she was experiencing lulled her towards wakefulness. He was staring death in the eye and was helpless to turn away, unable to find the wherewithal to flee in the face of his impending doom.
Instead, his thrusts became stronger, more forceful, striving for that place deep inside her. He fingered her clit, gliding over the distended bit of flesh until she was mindless with need.
Spike knew the second the Slayer was with him. Her body stiffened in his arms as he held her before him. He didn’t stop, however. Couldn’t stop.
No more than the Slayer could stop from throwing her head back as her body was gripped with climax. His eyes were drawn to the marks he’d left earlier. He licked his lips and winced as he sliced his tongue open with his fangs.
Bite her, his demon roared. Take her. Make her yours.
His fangs bit into flesh barely healed from before, but not because of his demon’s urging. Her blood spilled onto his tongue and he sucked greedily for a moment, caught by his own orgasm as the potent brew sent him over the edge. His possessive growls were muted against her throat as he spilled his seed, conscious of the watcher who slumbered upstairs – wouldn’t do to wake the man before he made good his escape.
Mindful of the Slayer’s body that was growing increasingly lethargic, in addition to the warning zap from the chip that told him that he was moving from pleasure to pain with his bloodletting, Spike reluctantly withdrew and licked lovingly at the crescent-shaped marks in an attempt to stem the flow. Thankfully, the Slayer had drifted off, body sated from their lovemaking and drained a pint or two of blood.
It was with something akin to regret that Spike pulled away and resettled the quilt around the Slayer’s bare shoulders. He dressed slowly, some small part of him hoping that she’d wake and confront him. Make him stay.
Ten minutes passed, and nothing happened. The Slayer and watcher both slumbered on, oblivious to his moving about.
Spike started to don his duster, but at the last second draped it softly over the slumbering Slayer, needing to leave a part of him touching her naked skin. The quilt that had initially covered her, he bundled into a small ball and tucked under his arm as he let himself out of the watcher’s home.
He was driving out of Sunnydale within the hour, his destination unknown.
The End
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