TITLE: If I Die, I Die
SUMMARY: Buffy has some lingering impressions from Amy's Valentine's Day spell...only it's not Xander that's on her mind! What happens when fantasies DO come true? Wickedly Spuffy!
RATING: M (for smut)
WARNINGS: Pretty much just PWP. Also a teeny bit of blood.
TIMELINE/SPOILERS: BtVS through Season 2 Episode 16 ("Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered"). Story goes AU before the end of that episode, though the season could potentially work out the same way. You know, if someone wanted to rework the next few episodes...
DISCLAIMERS: All BtVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. I'm just giving Spike some long-deserved love!
CREDITS: Title and some lyrics from "Bau-dachong" by the Virgin Prunes
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I may have set myself up for a losing battle by attempting a Spuffy story during Season 2, but I'm willing to accept the failure cuz it's really just smut, and I think that if it's hot, who cares? Enjoy with your favorite toy! (Dedicated to fatefox!)
Buffy really should have kept that voice in her head quiet. You don't ask "what else could happen?" on a Hellmouth. God, even someone as dense as Harmony would know that. But, leave it to the Slayer to tempt fate.
After the day she'd had—almost throwing herself at Xander and then turning into a rat while her mom and every other female (alive and undead, so she was told) were tearing apart her house to get at him—it figured the Powers-That-Be would find a way to top it off. No, instead of enjoying a nice movie on tv or some music on the stereo, the electricity had to go out. Peering through her bedroom window, she could see it affected at least her street and the two surrounding it. Just great.
Joyce had popped a couple of sleeping pills an hour ago, and Buffy could hear her snoring away in her room. That ruined the Slayer's chances of stress relief by patrolling tonight, as she didn't want to leave her prone mother alone while crazy Angelus was out preparing whatever new hell he had in store for her.
Not just stir-crazy, Buffy's body also hummed with residual energy from Amy's spell, feeling much the way it did when vampires were around. Coupled with that energy was the warm tingle of desire that still occupied her thoughts. There was no way she was sleeping anytime soon. She had to take care of this, and now.
Checking first to see that her mother was safe and comfortable, Buffy returned to her own room and locked the door. The breeze that blew through her window was crisp, teasing her skin and ruffling her hair as it was released from the bun she had it in. She kicked off her shoes and slowly slid out of her clothes so that she was standing in front of her closet mirror in just her underwear. If there were enough moonlight outside, she'd have made a nice striptease of it. She wanted to see what she looked like undressing, the way a man (don't think about Angel) would see her. Holding her breath for a moment, she peered. Then squinted. Then finally took her breasts in her hands and squeezed. Felt the rush of blood to her erogenous zones.
It wasn't enough. She slipped off her bra and panties, feeling the cold air give her goosepimples. Still, she wanted to gaze at herself. But not even bare skin could reflect light in that thick darkness. Come ON!
Frustrated at her blindness, Buffy slunk over to her nightstand. If she couldn't see herself, then maybe she could finally work up enough courage to use that...thingie...she ordered out of a catalogue. Of course, it was going to be a mini-feat to dig it out in the pitch-black, considering she had it locked away in a part of the small table that her mom didn't even know existed. But, Buffy's hormones were dead-set on it now that she remembered it was buried there waiting for just an opportunity.
Under the control of her one-track mind, she was not at all aware of the vampire perched precariously in the tree outside her window, watching with growing...curiosity.
There were quite a few things Spike had anticipated could happen when he shakily pulled himself up the tree in the Slayer's yard, but this was definitely NOT one of them. And now the warm eyeful he'd gotten of her in these last minutes had completely changed his original plans.
Despite what his demon rasped in his head, he really hadn't come here to kill the Slayer. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had come here to kill Angelus, and the best way he thought to do it involved convincing the Slayer to help him. "Of this men shall never know. Of this men shall never understand," went the song that he had stuck in his head tonight. Yeah, this was a crazy idea. But all the normal ones he'd had were shot down by his mental tactician. This one was maddening enough that it could actually work. Dru had taught Spike the fine art of thrall and, sure, he was a bit rusty, but he was willing to chance it. Worst case scenario was that the Slayer dusted him—and at this point, he didn't see how that was any different than how he already felt these days since Angel(us) returned.
God, he was miserable. He was weak from his injuries and from the lack of quality sustenance he had been getting. Today was the first time he had even left the factory, and he had only barely made it, hobbling in the shadows and leaning against buildings every few steps. Dru brought him little scraps of things—puppies and kitties snatched from children (the cherubs were her favorite), skittery nibblets like mice and rats, and, once, a fucking owl for chrissakes—while Angelus would tease him with rotting corpses and bloody bits. The bastard upstaged Spike's Valentine's Day gift to Dru by bringing her a freshly-harvested heart, then deliberately dangled the victim's lush uterus in Spike's ravenous face. The rich blood told his nose that the woman had been with child, and Spike wanted to retch. Angelus had always loved to torment the younger vampire with reminders of his motherly devotion.
So he starved slowly, both from lack of nourishment and lack of affection. Now that "Daddy" was home, all sadistic and soul-lacking, Drusilla had left her Sweet William's side and returned to that of her Sire. Spike could bear quite a bit, but he couldn't bear that. For over a century he devoted his unlife to her care, her whims. He denied her nothing. Nothing. His current infirmary was the result of his unwavering devotion to her. At first, he was angry at the Slayer for his injuries. But the more he thought about it (and he certainly had time alone to stew), the more he realized that it was Angel's fault. If the poof hadn't gotten himself all mixed up with the Slayer in the first place, then Spike wouldn't even be in this mess. He'd have healed Dru and prevented all the pain he felt... (Something deep inside—poncy, pratty William—almost allowed a pang of sympathy for the girl, too, as he could see now she was broken by that bastard just like his dark princess had been.)
Spike stifled his anger so as not to snap a branch. He didn't want the Slayer to catch him before he could think up the best course of action. He'd have to lure her outside somehow, but he was only strong enough to hold himself up in the tree. His arms had gained their strength back fairly quickly, but his legs were so weak he sometimes thought he was still paralyzed. So, he had to be careful that he didn't start something he couldn't either finish or retreat from.
But when he found her standing there in the dark, dressed only in her lacy underthings, he stilled. She was gazing at herself in the full-length mirror, radiating so much sexual tension that his cock couldn't help but grow hard. What was she doing? He knew she wouldn't be able to see his reflection behind her, but shouldn't she feel that tell-tale tingle that signaled his proximity? From experience alone, he knew Slayers had that ability.
Spike watched as she narrowed her eyes seductively at her face in the mirror, then licked her lips. Blood rushed to her cheeks and her breasts and her nether regions. The scent of it almost made him growl. He followed her fingers' trail over the youthful cleavage, hearing distinctly the nearly-silent hitch in her breath as the lace rubbed against her nipples. His sharp eyesight saw how they darkened and puckered tight, raising. That was always one of his favorite things with Dru: watching those jewels hardening before him, plucking them, swirling his tongue around them, suckling them, biting them... The Slayer's tortured gasp as she scraped her nails over her bra hid Spike's sudden one. When she reached around and unhooked the lacy thing, the vampire nearly fell out of the tree. Her breasts were about the size of Dru's, but they were flushed with a golden glow that his princess's skin lacked. Whereas Dru's nipples were dark and dusky, the Slayer's were a delicious tawny shade. He wanted to know if they tasted as sweet as they looked. Jesus and Mary, he'd cum in his trousers right now if she touched them.
As if reading his mind, Buffy moved her fingers towards her chest, but then stopped when a cold breeze blew in. Spike held his unnecessary breath, expecting her to turn and close the window (or, worse yet, discover him). Instead, she reached for the waistband of her delicate panties, slowly—so painfully slow—shimmying out of them. Her breasts jiggled as the material narrowed over her hips and then fell to the floor.
Glory be to God in the Highest! He was going to combust in more ways than one. His face needed to be buried in that muff. Such soft brown pelt to rub his nose, his cheeks, his lips against. (Not a natural blonde either, eh, luv?) Seeing her like this... it was like looking at a reverse negative of Dru. Sod the plan. Sod it all to... No, wait. He was William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers. Wasn't the whole reason he was here to get everything he wanted?
Dammit. Was it too much to ask to get what she wanted for once?
Buffy had found her toy, a silicone dildo in a soft shade of white. Or pink. She couldn't tell now. But the heft of it in her hand reminded her why she hadn't used it before. It was too big for her when she bought it; there was no way she could have fit it in as a virgin. Angel was bigger than it, however, and he had very thoroughly tore through more than just her inhibitions, so she hoped that she could take it now. God knows it cost her quite a bit of allowance money.
She nestled back into her pillows, stretching and letting the tingles travel to her extremities. The fact that it was so dark in her room made all sensations heightened, and she reveled in it. Spreading her legs slightly, she gripped the dildo and let the head of it slide along her nether lips. It was kind of awkward, but being touched there was nice. A few more rubs from clit to ass got her charged up. She repositioned herself a bit more and tried pressing the tip in. Hrm. Her thin skin seemed to catch on the silicone as it was not entirely comfortable. Or maybe Angel ruined her. She never did take a peek at what it looked like down there after she had been with him.
Resting the dildo on the bed between her legs, she began to feel with her fingers. They ran over her soft mound, teasing the curls. One slipped between her lips to massage while another lightly tapped on her button. Yeah, with a little of this, she'd get good and wound up. Then she could try again with that toy. She let out a pleasant sigh and imagined strong hands doing this to her, warm breath near her core, wanting to watch her succumb to ecstasy. Except, just as she would start feeling flushed, her mind would show her Angel's face that night he made her a woman. And she'd remember how nervous she was, how clunky their sex had been, and how things hadn't turned out like they always did in those paperbacks her mom read on the beach.
She let out another sigh then, only this one was from frustration. Her mind didn't relent. Now it was playing scenes of Angelus, who she definitely was not attracted to. The card from the flowers he sent her said "soon," which is what she wanted...only not the way he thought. I want to be cumming soon, you fucking asshole.
So Buffy tried again, but the warm tingles she had been getting were warring with images of Angel and Angelus, and even the awful image of how far she almost got with Xander because of that spell slipped in. God, did she not know anyone else who could be fantasy material?
A sudden shiver of anticipation ran through her when she realized that she did, in fact, know someone else. Oh, it would be wrong—so wrong—but she'd had enough intimate run-ins with him now that she knew his face, his movements. By all the hits she had gotten in, she knew the strength of his body, could imagine the shape of his muscles. She'd never had a fight with a vamp the way he brought one to her. His skill, his stamina... if he weren't her worst enemy, he'd be her greatest ally, surely. It was a testament to his amazing abilities that he was still alive. While she was here, alone and hidden in the dark, she would imagine how much further those abilities stretched. Who would know?
"Spike... cum in...me..."
He heard the words. They were said so softly, but they were said aloud, and the invite didn't discriminate between sound and semantics.
Buffy was trying desperately to get herself off. He could see it, smell it, and feel it. He could also see that it just wasn't happening. She needed to let go, but something was keeping her from doing that. Spike grinned. He'd lend her a hand (among other things). This could be his advance payment for her assistance with Angelus. Hell, she'd owe him for the grand time he was gonna give her.
As carefully and quietly as he could, he pulled himself through her open window. He had slipped out of his duster while in the tree and left it on a heavy branch, well out of the way of anything that might happen tonight. It would have been better if he had taken his Docs off out there, too, but he wasn't strong enough for that type of contortioning yet. He'd just have to concentrate harder on keeping his footsteps quiet.
Approaching her bed was torture. Even though it was dark as a cave in her room, he could see the Slayer quite well. So well that he had to release the fly of his jeans. Thank God he had been wearing ones that were quietly button-down today. (Having Dru as a caretaker meant that going commando with zippered jeans resulted in some nasty accidents, he thought painfully.) His cock bobbed out in excitement and anticipation.
The Slayer's fingers were coated in her juices, and Spike could barely hold back his demon. He slipped his t-shirt off and shoved his jeans down past his hips. Didn't want to risk rough material touching her skin, or it wouldn't matter how far gone she was; she'd be shocked back to reality. The song in his head played on: "Take closer steps, three steps to nothing..." Half crawling, half slithering, Spike made it to the end of her bed. He gazed directly at the gaping treasure in front of him and had to swallow a deep growl. Her fingers danced among the dewy petals of flesh, eliciting soft bursts of breath. Testing his ability to position himself closer to her without putting enough weight on the mattress to alarm her, he noticed the toy. Nice likeness, luv. He stroked himself once, measuring up easily.
"Spike..." Buffy gasped, still barely audible. Her eyes were sealed shut in concentration. She was quite deep in her pleasure. He saw how the light hairs on her skin stood up-the tell-tale sign that a vampire was near-yet she registered no fear, no notice. Slowly, her hand stilled and she reached down for the dildo. Taking a monumental risk, Spike leaned in and over her. He made sure not to breathe, even as her fingers touched his shaft. So similar was his member to her toy that he passed the initial test. When she grasped him, he put up no resistance at all, leaning in to allow her movements to remain fluid. God, he wanted to dive down and suck one of those gorgeous nipples into his mouth. But her hand held his cock tight, and the sensation of his tip navigating the slick folds of her sex centered his attention back on what she was about to do.
She was sick. Sick sick sick. The thoughts she'd been having since she decided to use Spike as her fantasy had turned her on so much that every inch of her skin shivered and buzzed and her hairs stood on end. Hell, he could have been in her bed with her, she imagined him so intensely.
Buffy could feel the wetness dripping down to the crack of her ass now and figured she could try the dildo again. She ran her fingers over the silky smooth silicone and swore she could feel it jump. How shaky with desire she was! Grasping the shaft firmly, she almost (insanely) wished there had been a body attached to it. What that guy's abs must look like under all that black... Okay, don't swoon. At least not til you cum first.
When she rubbed the tip of the toy in her slit, she let out a low moan. Buffy was happy her mom was knocked out, because she was sure she'd already said Spike's name tonight more times than she ever did in her nightmares. The sticky, wet sound of the dildo urged her to try sliding it in again. She did it slowly, feeling her channel adjust with its width as she inched the pale cock deeper. This time, it didn't hurt. This time, it felt perfect. She found herself rocking against the toy, or the toy rocking against her; they were drawn together like something magnetic. Even the heft of it seemed to fade in her desire. The warmth of orgasm was finally trickling towards her. She could feel her muscles tightening on the dildo, but she also imagined that the toy was expanding a bit in her, tensing. Like Angel did before he came.
Oh God, why did she have to think of him now?
Spike could feel her nearing her well-earned orgasm. She had been trying for it for quite some time now, and the tightening of her muscles on him told him it was going to be soon. He couldn't wait to follow her.
But then he noticed the change in her heart rate. Her hand lost a bit of its grip. Mistaking it for fatigue, he took over. He tried his hardest to mimic the movements she had been making herself so that, in her pleasured state, she would barely notice that it wasn't her own hand doing the work. But she was so tight, he found his body operating on its own. He began fucking her with a little more force then, a little more speed. Her breath came in pants of his name now. When he repositioned himself to hit her G-spot with his thrusts, she began whimpering. The sound was like music to his ears. She was coming undone all around him, and it was too much. Involuntarily, he moaned as he came inside her. "Oh fuck, Slayer..."
He couldn't help it now. His head went for her breasts, and he sucked a nipple deeply. Beneath him, Buffy groaned, arching her back. Her hand reached out to clutch the sheets, but it bumped against the arm that held Spike up.
Shit. The song in his head started up again, now that he was caught. "The clothes I wear are burnt. There's smoke in the field...if I die, I die..."
If I die, I die…
There was someone in here. In her. Literally. It couldn't be Angel; the disinvite was in place. She wanted to panic, but her body was so flushed full of orgasm that she couldn't even fight the intruder off. Her hands tentatively reached up to feel her violator's face. When she touched him, she knew immediately. No one had cheekbones like that. No one who wasn't a statue, that is.
He stopped moving and let her nipple go, but he didn't change his position above her. Feigning confidence, he replied: "How'd you guess?"
Because you felt exactly like I imagined you would.
"Because you're the only one stupid enough to try something this...this..."She couldn't even finish her sentence. Fear rose in her quickly then. How the fuck did he get in here? Struggling underneath him, she meant to get up, to escape, to put herself in a position where she could have the upper hand again. Her stake was somewhere, but the only thing close enough to her was the dildo. And from stories she'd heard of Angelus's treatment of his 'children,' she imagined Spike wouldn't have been stopped by her using that on him somehow. (Plus, no way!)
Instead of fighting back, Spike's response was to steady her with his hands on her hips. He thrust a couple more times, giving his cock a little wake-up call. It perked right up and even felt the Slayer's channel flutter around it.
Buffy paused her struggling when Spike moved within her. What the fuck is he doing? And, omigod, why do I want to stop him?
"Not stupid. Just resourceful," he said, lifting her hips. She gave him a bit of resistance at that, but he had tired her out enough with that first orgasm that he knew she couldn't really fight it. And based on all of her moaning for him while he was out on the tree, he didn't think she really wanted to. Whatever had been going on in that twisted little head of hers, he was still somewhat hopeful it would keep her from staking him. "Not here to kill you. Not tonight." He whispered softly: "Not like this."
She heard him inhale deeply, as if he were breathing in her emotion. Angel could do that, even though she could tell that he tried to hide it. Her heart rate decreased a little bit as the fear receded slightly.
"Let's call it a truce."
Under any other circumstance, she'd have laughed in his face, then broken his nose, then plunged a stake into his unbeating heart. But with his strong hands gripping her hips just like she had imagined and that expert cock buried to its hilt inside her, all she could do was repeat him. "Truce?"
Spike reached down and hooked Buffy's legs over his shoulders. The position he had her in now made her clit rub against him every time he pushed inside her. "I wanna stop Angelus."
She groaned as he pumped.
"I want my unlife back."
He was unbelievable. No, really. Her body was starting to flush with heat again, and he was sending her towards her second orgasm. Spike. Her enemy.
"Yeah...sure," she panted. "What...game..." More gasps. "Are you...up...to?" Buffy couldn't help but hold onto his arms. She was falling.
"No game." He was fighting his demon. If she could see in the dark, she would notice in his face how hard he tried to keep from shifting. "Just...insurance."
Buffy moaned then, her limbs feeling like they'd been shot full of fire.
"Need your help," he continued. "I'm still too weak." At that, he groaned, clutching her tightly. She could feel his cock tensing and pulsing inside her. Small whimpers flitted to her ears as he leaned down against her.
His grip on her legs lessened, and she moved them down slowly. She'd feel the ache in the morning for sure.
He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her chest. She began to stir, but he held her arms firmly. His lips fastened to her other nipple, pulling it. "Why would I..." A whimper pushed past her words. "...Trust you?"
Spike released her arms as he suckled. The fingers of one hand moved to massage her breast, while the other hand snaked under her, pressing her against him possessively. "Because..." His tongue drew swirls on her soft flesh. "I'm the best you've got."
And I'm about to prove it.
When he determined that she wasn't going to shove him off of her, he slithered down her body. Every bit of skin in his path was caressed, kissed, and licked. This flesh was like honey, so warm and glistening. She had stopped struggling now, and he felt her limbs beneath him soften at his touch. That's right luv; let it go.
He reached her cunt, and his nostrils flared at the scent of her. Such a juicy mixture of her own lust, his spendings, sweat, and a tinge of blood. He licked his lips in anticipation.
In the dark, Buffy couldn't see where Spike had gone. She reached her hands out to her sides, but they only touched the cool, now-moist sheets. It wasn't until she felt his lips ghosting over the inside of her thighs that she realized his position.
"Spike, what the hell are you doing?" A strange combination of lust, fear, and embarrassment washed over her. Angel never did this to her. What kind of twisted...
The vampire's mouth hummed against her quivering flesh. "Shhhhhh..." he tried calming her as his mouth moved closer and closer to the wet treasure before him. "Know you're not used to generosity, what with the sodding poof and all..." The muscles in her legs tensed and she'd have moved if he hadn't placed a strong hand on her abdomen, splaying it so that his palm was touching her mound and his fingers were stroking the soft skin of her lower belly. "...But I know what speaks to a girl's heart and quim..."
Buffy was about to protest at his words, but she was stopped short by the cool feel of his soft lips on her sex. There was a chilly sensation as he let some saliva slip from his mouth onto her fleshy folds. Spike swirled the new lubricant with the other juices there, creating a wet wave that ebbed and flowed up to her clit. It made her feel like she was skinny-dipping in the ocean, letting the tide rise to fuck her. He'd have her screaming soon if he kept this up.
Just when she thought she couldn't take it any more, he switched up his technique. Instead of lapping, he began lightly nibbling her inner labia, his face pressed inside her just right, so that his nose tapped her hardening clit with every other suck. She was so turned on by this that she hadn't noticed he'd switched to gameface. Her cunt was so wet that the thin slice one of his fangs made hadn't registered either. But his tongue noticed, and he suckled this ripe fruit tenderly. He forced down his demon so as not to hurt her, but he continued to swallow the red sustenance. It had been half a lifetime since he'd last tasted the blood of a slayer, but he certainly had not forgotten the delicacy. He also felt the tingle it made when it traveled through him, the power weaving into his injuries. It hadn't really occurred to him that her blood might help him recover faster. He wasn't going to risk it now, though. This truce was too important to waste on a few gulps of elixir. His tongue sealed the wound right before it plunged into her channel.
The Slayer gasped. She couldn't believe what Spike was doing to her. If he was trying to bag his third slayer, he was going to succeed before the night was over. She had stopped counting orgasms at this point and was just floating in a sea of ecstasy. Every movement he made just rocked her further out into the waves. God, no wonder crazy Drusilla stayed with him for so long. She could lose her mind and get addicted to this, too.
Spike moved his face upward a bit so that he could suck on her clit. She was back to whimpering his name, and a surge of pride swept over him. Yes, he did that. Not Angel. Not Angelus. The contentment he felt warmed him. Sure, it wasn't much payback, but it was enough.
Was he purring? Buffy could feel the vibrations against her skin. She reached down and stroked his hair, so incredibly thankful that he didn't need to breathe. God, he was like a panther. Or, well...no, not a panther. What was white? Umm... a snow leopard. Yeah, he was like a snow leopard. Devouring her. Making little growly noises.
When Buffy let out her final, heavily-labored groan, Spike reluctantly pulled himself from her. He leaned back, reaching for his jeans to tug them back up. There were two, maybe three, more hours left before dawn, and even though Angelus and Dru were quite likely still engaged in a torture session, Spike didn't know how long it would actually take him to get back. The Slayer's blood definitely did some good, but he was still in such a state of starvation (and exhaustion) that he wasn't sure how cooperative his legs would be.
"Wait," she said when she realized that he had gotten up.
Spike stopped and turned toward her. He watched as her arms reached out blindly in the darkness. She grasped once, then twice, before he stepped close.
Her hands encountered taut flesh then, and she ran her fingers over the muscles of his chest, his abs. If only she could see him! "I..." She had to lean in and place her mouth on his skin. Oh, it was marble, pure marble. "I...accept your truce."
And then her hands were pushing his jeans back down, and she was pulling him to her for another go. Only this time, she made him undress fully. She defined the limits of the truce with her body, sliding down on his cock and riding him until he agreed to leave Angelus to her. And to take Dru away from Sunnydale.
He couldn't believe she was willingly giving herself to him now.
"Insurance," she replied, and though she couldn't see him, he could definitely see the glint in her eye.
When she finally woke, she had barely enough time to get to school. Everyone was talking about the power outage, but not Buffy. Instead, she was thinking back on the impossible night she'd just had. The place between her legs told her she hadn't dreamt it. And even though she knew that feeling would dissipate as the day went on and her Slayer healing kicked in, she had one final memento: a familiar note on a slip of her stationery, but with Spike's elegant script spelling out for her an eternal reminder of their truce.