Sex and Candy
Set during S. 4 Episode "Who Are You?" and deviates in the midst of it.
Author's Notes: Short, smutty, Spuffy. I do hope you like it, I just needed a little break from my larger projects and thought this would make an interesting distraction.
Direct quotes from songs and shows are obviously not mine but belong to the enormously talented people who created them.
Dedicated to Lithium Reaper, Idiosyncratic Delusions, and Msnycegirl0820
Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.
"Come in." She said automatically as they reached her door. "Mom?"
"Mum?" Spike hissed in panic, stepping promptly back out.
"I'm just checking." Buffy told him, flipping on a single light and locking the door firmly behind him as he reentered.
"We're clear. Just one heartbeat here." Spike pressed his fingertips lightly across the swell of her left breast. "Like a little racehorse, Slayer. Excited?"
"Not especially." She marched upstairs, turning half way. "Coming?"
"Very soon." He smirked, and followed her.
Wondered how it would be with her. Spike entered her darkened bedroom, surveying the clean, neatly made white bed, a double. A girl's bed, not made with sex in mind, but no matter. Didn't figure on doing anything complicated with her. Just good and hard, and lots of it. The way he wanted it. If she didn't want it like that- well, he knew her, didn't he? In the end, that was exactly how she'd want it.
She kept the lights off. He can see in the dark, she reminded herself, and reached over to put on the small lamp on her vanity table. If you're gonna do this, might as well be able to see what he's doing too, make it fair. Not that he'd hurt you. He can't hurt you. All the same, she dropped the wooden stake on her bedside table with a clear thunk.
Got it. Don't step out of line. Spike nodded to her in silent understanding. Should he try to undress her or let her do it? Never did a slayer like this. Bound to be all sorts of things they'd consider as attack moves, and he didn't fancy getting kneed in the groin right before it was called to active duty.
She paused awkwardly by him, and then reached up and started tugging her shirt off. He stood back for a second, and silently moved in to help her. If she was going through with it, then by God, he was going to do his bit.
Buffy froze initially, as soon as he she felt his hands. Never heard Spike silent for this long, ever, was her first thought. He wasn't rough, and he didn't hurry, was her second, as his thumbs slowly, methodically hooked into the waistband of her skirt and pushed it over her rear until it was at the point where it would fall on its own. She untucked his black tee, and he was already shuffling his arms through the sleeves of his blood red over shirt. Once he was shirtless, their hands met together on his belt, and jumped when their fingers made a spark.
I don't think it's s'posed to be like this, Spike thought, feeling himself take some unnecessary breaths, listening to her little heart racing, watching her pupils dilate. His hands left his belt, leaving it to her mercies, and found her bra catch with one hand, and her hair with the other.
She looked up at him, big, serious green eyes, and wet, glossed lips. Innocent face, knowing eyes. God, what a picture.
I don't think it's supposed to be like this, Buffy's eyes fluttered shut, and her mouth opened to his. Kissing slowly, deeply, still hungrily. One of his hands is in my hair, the other is- oh whoa, there it is- thumb gently but insistently stroking a nipple. Her hands were kneading his bare back, sliding down to smooth white cheeks as the dark denim slid over his hips and down to the floor.
Bloody hell, this was all going wrong, Spike winced as he bit back a longing sound. It was fine to make that sound, but only when he was ravishing her good and hard, possibly just this side of pain, preferably, but unfortunately not, the other side of it. Should not happen just from kissing.
Her soft kneading fingers turned into cat claws. Not soft, not gentle, not like Riley! "Spike!" She panted angrily.
"Yeah, Slayer?" He pushed her back to a half-arm's length away. Nice package all around. Slimmer than Harm, more well rounded than Dru. Delectable. And soft and warm, unlike any of his other paramours. Plus- still bitable. Soddin' chip.
She didn't answer in words, she answered in actions, reaching down to the bed, kicking the pool of clothing to the center of the room, and yanking down the covers. She gave him a significant look, and then lay down, arms crossed over her bare breasts, defiance in every line of her reclining form.
"Direct and to the point. I like that in a girl." He smiled, and finished kicking off his boots, climbing in over her, watching her eyes widen. Bigger than the others, I'd bet. It's not the bulk, it's the proportions, he thought smugly. "You're a beauty, Slayer, never guessed how-"
"Spike." Her voice was pained. "Don't. Okay? No sweet stuff. No loving stuff."
"Loving? Fancy yourself much? Furthest thing from my mind, Slayer." He scoffed. "Are you saying I can't compliment you?"
"It depends on the compliment." She replied cautiously, watching him easing back, eyes roving over her as he sat beside her prone form.
"How about if I say you look like a nice piece of paradox, Honey? Innocent face, and damnably fuckable body?"
She rolled her eyes. "Not big on the profanity, but okay. That's not too bad." She looked up at him expectantly. "Well, come on, let's do this."
"That's it?" He raised his scarred brow with a look that unmistakably said "amateur." "Get right down to it?"
"Well, I didn't think there'd be anything more." She said uncomfortably. Uh, yeah, Buffy, problem with that statement? The word think. You didn't think, period, so you didn't think there'd be more, or less. You didn't think about anything except for the fact that you were going to do something intimate with the one guy who recognized the real you last night. Not your boyfriend. Not your Watcher. Not even your best friend. Your freaking enemy.
"Your loss." He sighed, and bent his head swiftly, hand pressing into her pink plaid undies and ripping them neatly off.
"Spike!" She sat up with an annoyed cry. "Those were cute!"
"I agree, Luv, but they were in the way." He roughly pushed one of her slim bronze thighs away from the other and bent to where he could almost taste faint traces of arousal. But not nearly enough. Key to preventing pain, and therefore government specialty migraines, was a well oiled Slayer. Plus- if her lower lips tasted like her upper lips, he was in for a treat.
What the hell was he doing? Too close, too close, too special for him and her to do. She hadn't tried that with Riley yet- the thought pained her and she let it go. But not the other thoughts. "Whoa, what are you doing?" Legs slammed closed on his pale fingers.
"Slayer, are you in or out?" He demanded angrily.
"In, but with limits!" She cried, just as angrily.
"Well, this better not be one of 'em, 'cause you aren't wet enough for me, an' this is the fastest way I can think to get you there." He glowered.
"Don't tell me what I can and cannot choose, Spike." She ground out.
Spike growled low in his chest. Cock-tease again. And this wasn't even for him, strictly speaking. "You want this, an' you will damn well take it." He dug his hand in hard on her thigh and she made a suddenly nervous noise. It didn't derail his intent, but it did give him pause in how he was going about it. "Look." He sighed heavily. "I don't know how your other lads were, but I've got great reviews, Luv." He curled that demonically flexible tongue. "If I'm not as good as what's his face then-"
"There were no others." She hissed. He blinked, and she didn't, fixed eyes dared him to tease her.
That explained some of it. Hell, what was wrong with the men she picked up? "Well, that's bloody stupid." He shook his head.
"Excuse me?" She sounded offended and appalled, and he hastily explained.
"How're you gonna give me the shove off if you don't even know if you like it? What do the others ones do to-you know- slide things along?" One finger trailing along the inside of her upper thigh, where he could just make out a darker pink bulge under her fleshy mound and light brown curls.
"Well, for one thing, I loved them. Or really, really wanted them. No 'sliding along' needed."
"We don't have that advantage, Pet, so you be a good girl, lemme try it, you don't like it," he gestured to the ramrod stiff cock between his legs, "you'll just have to work with what I've got."
Looking at that should do the trick, Buffy thought, but didn't allow herself to speak. He was nowhere near as tall at Angel, or Riley. Wasn't height supposed to give you a size indicator for the other parts? But apparently not always. "Fine. Try it. You've got thirty seconds before I tell you to get back up here."
"Oh, I doubt you'll choose that option." Spike grinned cheekily. "Open up, there's a good girl..."
She tensed momentarily, uncomfortable with his apparent scrutiny of parts that were so not meant for his eyes. Yet, here she was, showing him everything. "You say one word-"
"Beautiful." He slipped out, with an even saucier grin, and then bent his head.
"Holy shit." She gasped at the first contact, a jolt of pleasure stinging her.
"One second. I win." He laughed from between her thighs.
"I didn't say it was good." She moaned in a strained voice.
"Oh. Guess I should stop then?"
"No!" Damn, Buffy cursed herself. But he did feel so good. Soo, soooooo good.
She tasted so amazing. Sweet, fresh, and hmm, not innocent. More like new. Everything perfectly tight and shaped to match, a pouting heart around a little pink pearl, which- "Christ, Spike!" fit perfectly between his tongue and the back of his front teeth. "All the better to eat you with, my dear." He chuckled, and took his tongue on another circuit.
She had to stop doing this. Stop bucking under him. Why? 'Cause it's Spike? Sorry, Buffy, he deserves whatever you've got tonight. A little "Hey thanks for coming to save my ass, and by the way, thank you for actually recognizing my ass." present. One time deal, all you've got. "Wow. Oh, wow..." She gasped, elbows shooting behind her back suddenly, abs crunching in a spasm as she half sat.
Blue eyes under ice white lids flickered open and then fell shut, concentrating on her again. Drinking her juice, tongue running over and over in complex patterns, and then- inside, tickling just inside the entrance.
"Ahh. Aghh!" The first cry was soft and breathless, the second, loud and satisfied. Spike greedily lapped up a fresh wave of sudden wetness.
"Bloody marvelous." He smiled up from just under her slightly open slit. "You taste fucking amazing, Slayer."
"Wh-what was that?" She panted, giving him a grudgingly appreciative look.
Pity unwittingly emerged. "Oh, now, Sweetheart, don't tell me you've never had-"
"No! No, plenty." Buffy waved him to silence. "That was more of a "Wow, that was pretty..." she groped for a word. "Mind-blowing?"
"Long, long time to hone my skills, Luv. Vamps do it better."
A frown flashed across her face, and then dissipated. Angel and she had only gotten the one time, and it had been her first time. It was sweet and desperate and slow. Loving. Beautiful, perfect. A little too perfect, bye-bye soul, and never got a second chance. "Yeah." She spoke softly. "I bet they do..."
Hell. He hadn't meant to make her sad. Maybe later, but not just now. And, to be honest, probably not about this little encounter. This was sort of an "under the table" deal. Or maybe a better term would be "under the covers" deal. Get her mind off it, back to her fighting stance. Well, an on-her-back fightin' stance. "That was you cummin'. Care to return the favor?" He got to his knees, kneeling between her spread legs, smooth white rod fisted in and out of his grasping hand. "I doubt I taste as good as you, but I'm quite a nummy treat, so they tell me."
"You are disgusting." She sighed, and hesitated. This "give it all you got" mentality she was experiencing didn't extend to giving him a blow job. Which, really, made no sense at all. He can slide into your body, but not into your mouth, which is an even less intimate opening in your body?
She was mulling it over, but he didn't think the girl would make her mind up this century, and he was never too patient to begin with. "Skip it." He shrugged, crawling up until he was over her, directly on top, her head over hers, his chest about six inches above her breasts, hips on hers.
"Oh. Okay." Her voice was subdued, but not sad. Accepting. This is it.
He almost wanted to tell her not to worry, not to be scared. But she wouldn't be either of those things, she wouldn't let herself feel like that, knew she could toss him straight off anytime she wanted. He almost wanted to tell her to smile, but he couldn't without sounding like a ponce, and besides, his body would make her smile, make her scream. His mouth had to do something, so he slowly lowered it to hers, waited for her to kiss him back. As soon as she did, letting her tongue finally slip inside, he pushed forward.
She raked his arms almost immediately, an indrawn hiss escaping her.
Again, he almost reassured her he wasn't trying to hurt her. But that wasn't true. He'd hurt her plenty, given the chance. "Buffy?" He broke the kiss.
"Good fit." She gasped.
"Pretty much." She gave him a half-smile, which he found adorable.
One does not think of your intended victim, or your intended killer, either way, as adorable, he berated himself, and pushed himself up on his arms. "Glad." He snarled, and went to work.
He wasn't gentle anymore, Buffy bit her lip to keep in the more severe of the groans. But he wasn't hurting her, God, no.
"Let it out. Can hear the noises in your throat anyway, might as well let 'em out." He urged.
"You don't need any more ego boost." She whispered.
"I'll make you, Baby." He purred. "I'll make you cum so loud your neighbors'll complain."
"Ohh." A soft moan escaped her.
"That's it, no shame in it." He bit down on her breast and sucked her nipple hungrily. Her moans increased. "Use those slayer muscles, Honey, and I'll moan right along with you."
She'd never thought of having any unusual strength there, but she supposed she did. She certainly put the slayer stamina to good use with Ril- no! Not about him. This is about (major wiggins) Spike. Spike and I have this work thing, it's supposed to be hard, almost like fighting, but with- she groaned softly- so much more pleasure.
"You sure you want that?" She half teased, half threatened.
"You don't have to hold back with me." He reassured, smug smirk on his face. "Put the energy you usually use in kickin' my ass into this, and I'll put all my pent up energy from not bein' able to kick yours..." He trailed off suggestively.
"No holds barred?" She whispered, suddenly breathless and eager sounding, no longer just a passive participant.
"No violence." He warned, and then lowered his head with a groan. "Ohhhh. Look what they've done to me."
She almost laughed, but instead awkwardly patted his back. "No holds barred, and I won't punch you or kick. Or anything like that." She dug her nails into the shoulder she was patting, using him for leverage, and arching her hips up, and together, squeezing him as hard as she could, finding muscles she knew she had, but didn't know what they could really do. "But this-" she dug in the other hand, evening up her body in another squeeze, "is okay, right?"
His eyes bugged out, almost comically, but then his face changed, as his jaw slackened, eyes closed and a long, soft groan emerged. She did it again, watching in delight at her handiwork, and the face changed again, his tongue tapping up behind his front teeth, and his jaw working. A dark, shuddering chuckle of pleasure replaced the groan. "Beyond okay." He looked at her with new respect. "That's an impressive little piece you've got on you, Luv."
"Yeah, well." She shrugged with false modesty, relaxing her grip, but then surging back. It felt good, moving on him like that, squeezing him right into the burning ache in her sensitive spots.
"My turn." He growled, and took her shoulders. He didn't dig his nails in, he was never one for scratching, even if he wasn't chipped up. "Hard, right?"
"No holding back." She challenged.
"I won't, if you won't." He threatened.
"Oh, I won't." She hissed, eyes slitting in determination. Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad. This is almost- fun?
He plunged in and the bed shook, the bedside table shook, and she screeched. But when she rocked back into him, returning the thrust, he damn near fell off the bed. Which might not be a bad idea, he considered, as they began a frenzied see-sawing on the bed, grunts and gasps mingling, two masters in the ring putting their talents to new purposes. "You're not 'specially fond of this bed, are you, Slayer?" He asked at one point, sitting up abruptly, yanking her closer by her calves.
She squirmed down, wetness split open on him, and motioned for his hands. "Yes! I love this bed! I've had it since I was 12!" Fingers locked around each other's wrists, they arched into one another.
"Just warnin' you. I don't think it's built for this kinda workout." He jerked one hand free and put it under her lower back, letting her drape over his arm, yanked the other hand free and polished her nub as she was laying there, all exposed. Wild, just riding, and flowing with him.
"You wreck my bed and I'm gonna be really pissed." She caught his wrist again, circling his hand in the motion she liked best. Which she didn't even know she liked best. But with Spike, it seemed like the right thing to do, to act instinctually.
"Oh, fuck yes." He breathed, as her muscles went into a prolonged, milking spasm.
"That was my line." She protested weakly, when her fevered moaning ended.
"Oh, don't worry, Pet, I'll give you another chance to say it." He purred. "You wanna be on top for a bit?"
"Sure, why not?" She rolled easily with him, as she had before, knowing just how to move to avoid his punches, now she worked in time with him.
"Bend lower." He slid one hand to her mid back and pulled her hard little nips to his mouth. "You know, I quite like these? They're a good handful, but not superfluous."
"Shut up." She glared. "Or wait- was that a nice thing to say?" She bit her lip.
"I like your tits, is that more Slayer-friendly language?" He asked, scarred eyebrow cocked and mocking her.
"Hey, I wouldn't be with the teasing me fun right now. 'Cause I'm on top, and I'm in charge." She sat up straight and stared down on him cooly, half-lidding her eyes so he wouldn't see the sparkle of amusement in them.
"Ooh, does that mean I was in charge the rest of the time?" He crossed his arms behind his head, looking even more self-satisfied, if that were possible.
"No!" She thumped him on his rippled abs. Stupid Spike, she had kinda walked into that one.
"Ah, ah, ah- no violence." He taunted. "Unless kitty uses her claws due to overwhelmin' bliss."
She threw herself down on him, hips pummeling his, and her nails indenting his back where she held herself to him. It started off as a contest of wills, but they were too good for it to stay that way.
"Spike." She breathed, and felt his arms tighten around her torso.
"Slayer." He returned in the same needy murmur. He'd thought for sure that this much force in his actions would've given him an electric shock big enough to blow his brains out, but it didn't. It was just so good. An' she must want it, like I knew she would. She just keeps givin' it back. "God, Luv..."
"Uh-huh." She agreed, and rested her rippling pinkness on him for a moment, just feeling the pleasure if being filled.
Just love this feeling. Of being wrapped in something so hot, an' tight, and beautiful. And she's all over me. Her body on mine. And her breath in my ear. Her scent coatin' me from my hair to my toes. Sweet honey, just drips out of this hive...
I love this. Not having to hold back. Not giving a damn if I'm doing it right. Not having to say I love him, or feel guilty 'cause I don't or I can't.
Her head moved slowly from it's resting place between his neck and shoulder, finding him turning slowly, too. Eyes locking. Heads in a reluctant slide, into a real kiss. Not part of the act, a kiss for the sake of wanting to kiss, to embrace.
"Slayer." He murmured into her mouth.
"Spike." Her fingers tangled in his hair. And he was moving again, taking her under him, one hand where their bodies joined, hellbent on giving her a third orgasm.
"Gonna make you cum. Maybe a couple more times, then me, okay?" He smiled down on her, a relaxed smile, attitude temporarily gone.
"You seem very devoted to my getting off." She pointed out, lazily running her hands across his back.
"Purely for my own ego, Luv. Every time you cum, means I did a good job." He grinned down, badass attitude replacing the languid posturing. "Plus, I like watchin' you get looser an' looser. Eventually that stake's gonna fall out of your bum, an' you might jus' be a real person again."
"You don't want to stay "stake" and "bum" in the same sentence, Spike. Gives me a whole new world of ideas about how to kill you someday." She smiled evilly, but he just laughed.
"Fine, Pet, stay a tight ass, gotta admit, it's a nice lookin' one." He groped down, squeezing her cheeks. And then surveying all of her. "All of you is thoroughly nice-lookin', Slayer." His voice was soft, appreciative.
"Don't." She warned. Don't get too sweet, we're not like that.
"I like what I see. That so terrible?" He asked defensively. "Plus, I gotta gloat a bit, Luv, don't I? I'm the only vamp to ever do a slayer like this."
"I'm so gonna stake you when this is done." She groaned. "I am. Seriously." He continued working away, unheeding. "I mean it." They locked eyes. "Aren't you gonna stop? I'm all with the impending Spike-death."
Spike shook his head stubbornly. She whimpered around him and he opened his eyes, taking her in, his own eyes meditative. "No. Don't think you will, Luv." She tossed her head proudly, and it spurred on the torrent of realizations he was having. Had had many times before, and was finally sharing them with the one person who probably deserved to know them. The other half of the equation. When like calls to like, and every part of you has a reflection in them. His own words from earlier slapped him in the face. Hah. Not bloody likely. Reflection, like to like, sure, but sure as hell not like that. This would never be love, only lust.
"Even if you did stake me, Slayer, think that's the way we're gonna go, Luv. One day I'm gonna punch my fangs through your throat and suck you dry, hold you tight, watch you do your final dance, in my arms."
She gasped at his words, and her mind spiraled. Shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be about to cum when he's telling me how I'm gonna die... But her body didn't agree, and she began her descent. And his voice just kept going.
"Or you're gonna shove a piece of wood through my heart, and I'm gonna shower you with dust." The quivering walls around his cock milked him harder than ever, and he felt himself losing his self-control, finishing his mental image. "And I'll still be all over you."
"Spike. Spike!" A broken scream and a final plunge. Just like he said.
"Hell, Slayer! " A final stab and an explosion, just like it'd go down someday.
She was shaking, and he was spent. For a second, both were unmoving, unspeaking, still bound at the waist. The act suspended.
Her eyes could kill you, Spike considered, when they both managed to open their exhausted lids. Don't need a stake, Sweetheart, don't need fire, got all the points and flames you'll ever need in that burning gaze.
He was still in her. Still so close, lips just above hers. She could kiss him now, and start this all over...
I could kiss her now, and we could give this poor bed another test. Or we could end this before somethin' genuinely bad happens. "There's a third possibility." He whispered.
"Of how we die?" Buffy whispered back. He nodded.
His voice was louder, slowly breaking the spell as he unwrapped himself from inside her. "Yeah. Third possibility. We're gonna go out together, fightin' somethin I was stupid enough to help you with."
Buffy laughed, a genuine laugh, for the first time all night, all day, maybe in several days. "You're probably right." Her voice was hesitant as she shifted gently away from him, looking at the man now lying beside her, not on top of her. "But for tonight- we have a free pass?"
He grinned, happy, goddamn it, yes happy, to see her laughing. "Yeah, Luv. Free pass."
They sat up, side by side on the bed, uncomfortable silence suddenly filling the air, and realization awakening in them. Buffy drew her pillow in front of her, and Spike reached for his jeans.
"Umm." She began, throat suddenly dried out.
"Don't panic, Slayer. I won't be mentionin' this." She nodded, and they shared a look of understanding. Never happened. This little foray into madness never happened. Thank God, 'cause it would be the end of everything sane, for both of them. "You forgive your doughboy." He encouraged softly. "Pretend with him a little bit longer."
His words stung, but she didn't think he meant them to cut too deeply. "Okay. And you go back to moaning over Dru."
She was the perfect partner. Even the lashes she laid went with the barbs he threw. "Suits me." He shrugged.
"C-can you hand me my-" Buffy trailed off, and pointed to the pile of clothes on the rug.
"Oh yeah, here." He passed her the items she wanted, separating his own from the pile. They dressed, awkward in motions, awkward in silence, until they were both sitting fully clothed beside each other on the bed.
And now I toddle off with a little wave over my shoulder. Only I can't. Because I've got to bleedin' say somethin'. Because she might be a one night stand, but one day she's gonna be my soddin' endgame, or my greatest victory.
He coughed once, looked at her sideways. "You're good, you know." Her head turned, same speed at his, until they were face to face, bodies still pointing forward. The intimacy of the action is over. The words? Not quite yet. "Don't know about the other one, one who was borrowin' your body the other night, I don't know what she's like. But if he couldn't tell the difference, there's something lacking in the boy. Somehow he's never paid proper attention if he couldn't tell the difference in what you do from what anyone else does." He shook his head in consternation.
That's because I didn't do what I did with you. Never with anyone else, she thought silently. First real orgasms, first real letting go, not holding back. I mean, Angel, it was good, but first time angsty, Parker was good, but too quick. Riley was - is good, thorough, pleasurable. But it's not the full body, explosive, screaming thing that overtook me tonight. But you can't tell Spike that. You could never, ever tell anyone that.
She smiled at him softly. "You get the job done."
Well, if she was going to keep it brief, he'd better do it, too. Snarkily, smugly, he said, "Oh, I thought I might've done." He pushed her castoff pillow aside and gestured to a puddle of their juice in her bed. She looked like she was torn between embarrassment and pride, the slayer and the girl within warring. He'd told her tonight it would just be simple, so he had to halt that.
She was surprised that he could go from Mr. Crude to showing a sudden tenderness. But he did. His voice lost it's edge, and he pushed the pillow back over the wet spot. "It's okay. You had a good night. You could use one. I had a good time, too."
"Yeah, well, that was an unintended side effect." They shared a bitter laugh, ending with a sigh. They regarded each other, tight smiles in place. With a deft fingertip, he brushed the hand that lay beside his on the bed, before he pushed off the mattress. His hand lingered for one more second before he stood up, squaring his shoulders.
"You ever get the itch again, and you leave the stake at home-" He trailed off.
"I'll give you a call." She nodded, half-smile playing on her pursed lips.
"Anytime." He shrugged into his duster, and pulled open her bedroom door. Then paused. "Goodnight, Buffy."
Author's Note: Thank you all for reading. This concludes our little drama in three acts.