For VicNoir!
Author: kira-nerys
Title: Don’t Look at Me.
Rating: NC17, PWP.
Parts. 1/1
Pairing: B/S
Summary: What’s a poor vamp to do when he’s not getting any?
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy yada yada yada.
Feedback. Always needed at
kardasi@kardasi.com.
URL:
http://www.kardasi.com/spikelust
Double challenge reply. First of all it’s my Secret Spike story for you, Vic. I
hope you’re going to like your little Christmas present, and as soon as I found
out I’d be writing for you, I couldn’t help but remember your “Wanking Spike”
page. This is what came of that inspiration. Not completely a self love story,
but ... here’s me contribution if you’ll have it.
BETA: Thanks to Mad-Hamlet, but I added to a bit after his beta, so any mistakes
in here are my own fault, and mine alone.
"Don’t Look at Me"
by kira-nerys
For VicNoir!
Spike threw off his leather duster and
didn’t care that it fell in a crumpled heap on the floor.
It wasn’t like him. Through the last couple of decades the duster had been his
most cherished possession; a talisman of sorts, a memory of the sweet bliss he
had felt after killing one Slayer on the train in 1977, but today that Slayer
didn’t seem to matter to him at all, hadn’t for a while now.
Someone else was on his mind – another Slayer – and she wouldn’t leave. Spike
snarled and tried to shake off the intense arousal that had taken control of his
body. It was like a tingling in his blood, like electricity, and he couldn’t
seem to get rid of it. The demon surged just beneath the surface of his
emotions. It, too, was attracted to the Slayer, and it wasn’t just the potency
of her blood that called to his demon. But – Buffy was just another cocky little
broad who he shouldn’t give the time of day.
But he did. He did.
He’d picked a fight with her, just for fun. It was the next best thing after
fucking her, and he’d known what would happen. Fighting her had made him hard as
steel, and an unforgiving desire that wouldn’t leave irritated his
nerve-endings. It was just on the side of pleasure in its intensity. He felt
alive with the want. She was the only one who had ever provoked that in him, and
if it hadn’t been for that fucking ... love ... he would have taken her and then
he would have killed her. A few months ago he wouldn’t have thought twice about
it, but now ...
She’d taunted him with words, fought him and he’d ended up on the ground, her
straddling him with a stake above his heart. It wasn’t the first time she’d done
that to him – threatened to kill him that is – but it was the first time since
he’d started dreaming about her, since he’d told her the truth, and it was the
first time she’d noticed him harden beneath her. Their eyes had met and he had
reached for her, desperate for her touch.
“Bloody hell,” Spike snarled to himself. She’d seen it. The desperation.
Her eyes had widened and she’d flown off of him as though burned – perhaps she
had been. He’d felt hotter than hell.
“Spike! You are so disgusting!” she’d spat and run off. A short glimpse
of something had crossed over her face, but Spike couldn’t identify the feeling
in her eyes. Her pupils widened, but was it in fear or arousal? Fear of what?
The fact that she’d noticed the intensity of his desire hadn’t lessened his
enthusiasm. Not a bloody bit. Quite the contrary in fact.
“Fuck!” he groaned. He really needed a good shag, that’s what he did, but there
was no Harmony to allay his needs, and no Dru. Dru’s last look of pity at him
was almost enough to turn him off, but not quite. And no Buffy, and the truth
was that she was the only one he really wanted to shag, too....
He wanted to fuck her into the ground like a hammer on a nail.
“’Nuff with the euphemisms, you idiot!” he muttered to himself and walked over
to the sofa, a little gingerly. That bloody thing in his pants was taking up way
too much room, pressing insistently at his fly, and it was painful.
“I’d better free the wanker,” Spike muttered and flopped down on the couch,
undoing his pants.
“Ahh,” he moaned.
That was good – way better than constricting himself in his jeans. They were
perfect for getting chicks to watch his arse, and went well with the duster, but
they were too bloody tight right now.
He leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes, just savouring the
sensation of being aroused. Since he didn’t seem to be able to make it go away,
he wanted it to last. It had been a while since he’d been this hot, and just
because the Slayer had straddled him, rubbed her tight little behind over his
groin...
“Soddin’ bitch,” he moaned. But there was no real malice in his words. They came
out more ... desperate and needy.
He’d give just about anything to have her there right now, straddling his lap,
sinking down on his hard shaft, surrounding him with her moist heat, clenching
her muscles rhythmically ...
“Oh yeah, that’d be good,” he groaned, and he knew this hard-on wouldn’t just go
away.
If Harmony had been there, he’d have asked her to give him a blowjob and
imagined that it was Buffy. But he was alone.
Giving into the inevitable he grabbed himself and ran his fingers across the
underside of his shaft.
“Yeah, like that,” he moaned and slid further down in the couch, stretching his
legs in front of him. “So good, Buffy. Yeah.”
His balls tightened and a drop of clear liquid oozed from the head as heat
spread through him, strong, insistent and so sweet.
Spike didn’t hear the door to his crypt opening and closing. He didn’t hear the
soft footsteps approaching. He didn’t hear the surprised gasp when the woman
emerged from the shadows. He didn’t realize what an eyeful she got.
* * *
Spike’s head leaned against the sofa cushion, his eyes closed, long lashes
resting against his pale cheeks. His spiky blond hair was mussed and stood in
all directions. A strained expression was on his face, part pleasure, part pain,
she suspected. Perfect, white teeth gnawed at his full, lower lip. He was
tempting, so tempting ...
She should leave, as silently as she had arrived, but she stayed where she was.
She couldn’t move a muscle. And if she were honest with herself, wasn’t this why
she was here – because she wanted him? This ... situation would only make it
easier for both of them. No dancing around what they wanted, just ... right into
the middle of it. Immediately.
His thick shaft stood proudly, in sharp contrast with the black jeans, and his
squared hand held it in a loving grip, caressing up and down slowly, as though
wanting to savor each stroke as much as possible. As his thumb moved across its
head, Spike’s mouth opened to draw in unneeded air. His lower lip was swollen,
and his eyes were closed.
She had done this to him; she knew it. She could still remember the sensation of
his jeans-clad shaft pressing into her, insistently, hard ... so hard.
A groan spilled over his lips, drowning her soft moan at the memory of him.
“Soddin’ bitch. You want me, I know you do,” he said.
Buffy froze, thinking he had seen her, but then she realized he was just talking
to an imagined person. Who was she? Was it her?
Buffy knew this was madness. She should just turn around and leave, but she
needed – wanted – to hear her name on his lips.
“Buffy,” Spike groaned as if he could feel her desperation, and his caress sped
up. His voice was rough, so ... needy. She hadn’t heard it quite like that
before, and it sent a tremor through her body.
He tilted his hips, rocking into his fist; the unnecessary gulps of breath
becoming more frequent and more desperate. She knew he was close to coming.
“Yeah, just like that, you little bitch,” Spike snarled and his legs fell apart
a little more. “I’d fuck you. Fuck you hard.”
The words made her want to walk over to him, to offer herself, and force him to
make good on that promise.
His face shifted into the demon’s, and Buffy inhaled sharply, only to cover her
mouth with her hand, but it seemed as though Spike was too engrossed in what he
was doing to even notice her presence.
She had never realized it before, but the sight of him in game face turned her
on even more than the human guise he normally wore. As though enchanted, Buffy
moved from the shadows. He must be able to smell her arousal now.
* * *
“Slayer,” Spike groaned.
A familiar scent wafted through his crypt, but he couldn’t quite place it at
once. It was stronger than he’d ever experienced before, and then he knew what
it was. Buffy. Was he so desperate that he was making up the scent of her
arousal? No, he wasn’t that far gone. His eyes snapped open and with the
enhanced sight of his demon half, he spotted her instantly.
She stood only ten feet away, moving slowly toward him. When his gaze met hers,
he was almost sorry he had opened his eyes, because she stopped, ready to flee.
He instantly closed his eyes again.
It was as though she didn’t want him to look at her. If he didn’t see her, and
acknowledge that she was there, she’d come to him.
So, he kept his eyes closed, tense and immobile, waiting to see what she would
do.
The sound of her moving was enough to make him tense even more. Was she leaving
or was she coming closer? He strained his hearing to maximum trying to determine
where she was, and to his relief, the sound of her soft footsteps on the stone
floor was coming closer. He relaxed only a little, unsure of what would come
next.
He only barely stifled a moan as her warm hands landed on his thighs. His cock
jumped and he pulled his hands away, spreading his legs just a little wider in
silent invitation.
*Please, Buffy,* he thought. *Please... touch me.*
As if she had heard him, she moved her hands along his thighs, closer to his
straining sex. The warmth spread through him, suffusing his body with a need he
couldn’t control. He groaned, and then her small but strong hands cupped his
balls. They pulled up, drawing close to his body. Her other hand encircled his
shaft, rubbing it tentatively.
“Oh yes,” he hissed, thrusting into her caress. “Yes.”
She didn’t say anything. He could barely hear her breathe, but her heartbeat was
quick. Was she excited or ... afraid? Not of him – she had never been afraid of
him – but perhaps of what she was doing? He waited, desperate to feel more of
her touch.
Her hand on his cock was almost enough to push him over the edge. He’d been so
close already before he knew she was there, but the mere thought of her kneeling
between his legs like that, holding him tightly, caressing him – it was almost
enough to push him over the edge. He fought it with all his might. He wanted
this to last, because it might be his only chance to ever have her.
* * *
His face was drawn tight almost as if he were in pain. But he had closed his
eyes, the moment he met her gaze. He’d understood, and for that she was
grateful. A small voice inside her insisted that he always knew what she wanted
or what she needed, and nearly always acted accordingly, even when she didn’t
even know what she wanted or needed.
Spike wanted her so much that he was ready to give her what she needed to deny
it had ever happened – afterwards, no matter what it cost him. She knew, and
finally accepted, that what he said was true. He really did love her, and that
frightened her.
She had longed to touch him for so long, she had to admit that to herself now,
and what frightened her most was that this might not be enough, this intimate,
but unemotional touch. This was just sex, just ... a physical act. It frightened
her that she might want more. This was all she was ever going to allow herself,
and she would savor each second.
She slowed down a little, recognizing the signs of his drawn up testicles, the
tension in his body. Spike’s fingers grabbed the edge of the sofa in a death
grip. So close, he was so close and he was fighting it with all he had. She
didn’t want this to be over so soon either. Not now that she was finally there,
touching him ways she had longed for, such a long time.
*Were you thinking about me, Spike? Did you want me to touch you?*
As they had fought earlier that night, she had realized how much she really
wanted him too. The knowledge of that truth had sent her running. She’d felt him
against her, felt her own need to just rip off his clothes and ... be close, as
close as they could.
She had stopped running almost at once, but he was gone already. So she asked
herself what difference it would make if she let him in? If she allowed herself
to enjoy what she wanted? He’d already nestled inside her, with his cocky
attitude, sexy smiles and peculiar way of wanting to protect her, while being
her worst enemy at the same time. It was an odd relationship, but that was her
life. Odd.
She had turned around, still unsure of what she wanted and now she was here ...
She pulled away, and rose to her feet.
He let out a disappointed moan. His eyelids fluttered as though he was about to
open his eyes, but he didn’t, and she noticed another kind of tension returning
to his body. Did he think she was going to leave? Did he think she could be that
cruel?
Yes, why wouldn’t he? After all the things they had said and done to each other,
why wouldn’t he think that this was only another one of their cruel games? It
was understandable, but what he didn’t realize was that she wanted this as much
as he did. She couldn’t leave, as much as she might have wanted to. It would
have been a good revenge for the things he had done, and for a short moment she
contemplated it.
“Slayer?” he said, cautiously, still not opening his eyes.
She didn’t answer, but she pulled off her panties slowly, but kept her top and
skirt on. She noticed him hearing what she was doing and his nostrils flared as
she finally dropped her damp panties on the floor. She moved toward him again,
resting her hands against his thighs, and then pulling at his jeans. He moved to
help her, but she just tore them off, pushing him back on the sofa. She didn’t
say anything, as though hearing her own voice would break the spell, and maybe
it would.
Then she put her hands on his shoulders, straddling him, and he shifted into his
human guise, That was okay, too. Looking at his smooth features, she grabbed
him, aiming his hardness at her heat. She saw his shock, as he let out an
involuntary gasp, but still he didn’t open his eyes.
He just threw his head back and groaned.
“Oh, bloody hell!” he shouted. “Give a bloke some warning, will you?”
Buffy smiled at that, but her smile died as she sank onto his hardness, and he
filled her completely. She had had no idea how good this would feel.
“Oh yessss! Spike,” she moaned.
She’d forgotten that she wasn’t the silent type when making love. How would she
be able to keep her own promise to herself? How would she be able to keep quiet,
when he was so good ... so good, inside her?
He stretched every part of her, the slide of his smooth hardness against her
insides filling her completely, making the nerve-endings deep inside her tingle
and demand that she move, move. More, more! Now!
Torturing them both, she moved slowly on him, savoring the sensation of him
filling her, savoring the sight of him. He looked debauched, with the black
t-shirt crumpled across his stomach and the blond hair a mess.
“Gods, Buffy,” he groaned, and allowed her to set the pace, and she was
torturing them both by not allowing her desire to speed up, to take control.
His voice did things to her, and she wanted to punish him for speaking.
Clenching her muscles tightly around him, she made him shudder. Clawing at his
chest, she left red welts across his pale, almost luminous skin.
Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her waist impatiently, his cool fingers splaying
over her hips and stomach helping her move on him. It ignited her, set her
aflame and she could no longer resist the temptation of letting go completely.
Their coupling changed instantly. Gone was the careful, slow lovemaking, and
gone was the need to draw it out.
She laughed in the midst of it all. It bubbled up inside her like water, and as
much a source of life. Joy, unexpected in this moment, with ... him.
A feral grin crossed his features as he sat up, flattening her breasts against
his chest and that forced her to move her hands away from his chest. Instead,
she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep upright. His face ended up mere inches
from hers. She licked her lips, knowing that her face would speak of much more
than just desire at this moment. He still didn’t open his eyes, and regret and
gratitude fought inside her.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for the first time. Shivers
traveled from his lips against her, into her, and despite their coolness they
made her warm. That heat spread through her body, stoking the flames between her
legs. His tongue buried gratefully inside her, fighting her and both winning and
losing that battle over and over again. She tasted him, his lips, and his
tongue. He tasted of something dark and rich, not blood, or anything else she
could put a name on, but she craved that spice as much as she craved the touch
of his hands, the move of his body against her, inside her.
“Ohh, Spike. Harder,” she groaned, throwing her head back, allowing his lips to
travel from her mouth, down across her chin, her throat and her collarbone. .
He pushed frantically at her top, and she moved to help him. Soon, all she wore
was her skirt, riding high around her waist, and he leaned against her, suckling
her nipples, biting them lightly as he moved into her, slamming harder for each
thrust. He was like cold fire and steel, his shaft rubbing against her clit for
each stroke, sending her closer to orgasm, and Buffy knew that whatever her
plans had been when she came to him, they were shattered the very moment her
body crashed into the first orgasm. Pleasure tore into her body like a sword,
his hard cock filling her completely.
The pain/pleasure made her scream.
Nothing comprehensible, just the language of ... it made her whole, and that
moment, Buffy knew she had been wrong. It wasn’t just sex. It never could be *just*
sex, not with Spike.
Not with someone she loved.
“Oh, god, Spike,” she cried as the second orgasm drove through her. Her eyes
snapped open, looking into his face. He fought to keep his demon visage in
control.
“No, Spike,” she whispered and grabbed his face with both hands, feeling the
ripples of his features under her hands. It excited her. “Look at me.”
He kept his eyes closed, shaking his head.
“I promised, luv.”
“It’s okay, Spike. Look at me.”
And he did, yellow flickering through his eyes, fighting to overpower the blue.
“It’s okay,” she whispered again, leaning forward to kiss him. “I want you. All
of you.”
“No.” he snarled. “Not like this.”
She leaned closer, kissing his lips, cutting her tongue on one of his sharp
canines. “It’s okay, Spike. I love you.”
He sucked her tongue, swallowing each drop of blood that she would yield, and
the demon burst forth in front of her eyes, a fierce growl tearing through Spike
as he came, his cock pulsing violently sending bursts of cool liquid into her.
“Buffy!” he roared, sounding to her ears like the predator he was.
Moments later he relaxed in her arms.
“I love you,” he whispered into her neck. “I love you, Buffy.”
And the most significant words spilled over her lips.
“I believe you.”
END
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