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Who is using who? Buffy comes back form visiting Angel in Los Angeles. Between AtS “I Will Remember You” and BtVS “Hush” Buffy/Spike Rated R
Spike Sitting “I can’t believe him!” Buffy cries as she bursts in Giles’ front door, tossing her overnight bag aside.
“Hello, Buffy, welcome home. Do come in,” Giles says dryly.
“First, he’s up here and doesn’t even say hello. Then I ride all the way down there in a smelly bus, and all he does is look sorry-eyed at me. 5 minutes. I rode all that way for a 5 minute visit!”
“Angel’s quite an ass, isn’t he?” Spike speaks up from where he’s still tied to a chair.
Buffy wheels on him. “Shut up, Spike.”
Giles attempts to placate the pacing Slayer. “Now, Buffy. I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“So, not even a kiss? He never kissed me when he came back. Oh, wait, yes he did.”
Buffy goes over to Spike and slugs him, hard.
Spike grins. “Oh… I like it rough. Want to take your frustrations out on me? I’ll even let you leave me tied up!”
“Argh!” Buffy can’t even hit Spike for pleasure now, because he’ll enjoy it.
Giles peers at Spike. “Spike, please be quiet. I can always chain you in the bathtub.”
“It’s just that I can offer a unique insight on the psychology of Angel. After all, we raised hell together for about twenty years.”
“I appreciate that, Spike. Now please shut up.”
Buffy leaves off her pacing and throws herself in the armchair. “I’m sorry, Giles. You don’t need to hear me vent about my ex.”
Giles sits near her on the couch. “It’s Okay, Buffy. I’m here for you.”
“Like you were over Thanksgiving? No one told me Angel was here.”
“I didn’t know!” calls Spike.
Both choose to ignore the vamp.
Giles leans close to her. “Buffy, it was his call. He didn’t want to distract you. To distract himself.”
“Pretty words,” Buffy sighs and leans back in the chair, pressing her hands against her eyes. “I guess he’s right. It… it was hard seeing him. Wanting…” she cuts herself off and drops her hands. She studies the pattern on the carpet.
“Buffy,” Giles calls her out of her reverie. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing. Well, homework. I didn’t get much done while traveling.”
“Could you… Well, would you mind staying here tonight and minding Spike while I run an errand?”
“What?” say Buffy and Spike at the same time. They speak over one another. “I’m not staying here with letch-boy calling snide comments at me all night.” “Leave me with the Slayer? Why not go ahead and stake me yourself?”
Giles stands and holds his hands in the air in surrender. “Please. I need to drive over to the next town and pick up a… some magical objects. Xander and Willow are both busy tonight and I really don’t want to leave Spike unwatched at this point. I can do this tomorrow, but…”
“Okay,” Buffy sighs. “But I can’t swear he won’t be dust when you get back.” Giles ponders Spike for a minute. “I wonder if his chip will dust, too. It would be interesting to get a good look at it.”
“Hey!” protests Spike, “don’t I get a say in this?”
“I can leave you tied to the chair, or I can chain you in the bathtub.” Giles puts in.
“I’ll need to use the bathroom,” Buffy says. “So I’d say you don’t have any say, Spike.”
“Brilliant,” mutters Spike.
“Thank you, Buffy. I’ll be back by noon tomorrow. I just went shopping, so there are plenty of foodstuffs and… and blood.”
“I’ll be fine, Giles. I know where the pointy weapons are, too.” She looks sharply at Spike who sneers in reply.
Soon, Giles is away and Buffy is in the kitchen, making a sandwich.
“Say, I’m peckish, too,” calls Spike.
“When I’ve eaten my sandwich, I’ll feed you. I don’t fancy smelling blood along with my corn beef.”
“Wimp. Can you at least put the telly on?”
“No. I have to do homework. Besides, Giles doesn’t have cable.”
Buffy eats her sandwich and sets the plate aside. “Me now?” He cranes his neck in her direction.
“Huh?”
“Feed me?”
“Why doesn’t Giles just get a dog?”
“At least you don’t have to walk me.”
Buffy goes into the kitchen and fixes a cup of blood. “Here,” She holds the cup out to him.
He has been tied to the chair so his lower arms are free. Spike deliberately strokes her fingers as he takes the cup. “Thanks, love.”
She jerks her hand away. “Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Call everyone pet names.”
“I’m not good with names. It’s easier than learning new ones all the time. You humans die off so quickly there’s no point getting attached.”
“Very funny.” Buffy looks away as Spike chugs the cup.
“At least I’m not like Angel. He says everyone’s name like his connection with them is the most important thing in the world.” Spike lowers the cup and looks in her eyes. “Buffy. Thank you… so much for your kindness,” he says, doing a great imitation of Angel.
Buffy slugs him.
“Ow! Slayer! What’s the deal? Did I hit too close to home?”
Buffy just hits him again, twice. Spike is breathing hard and grinning like an idiot. “Please, Mistress, may I have another?”
Exasperated, Buffy grabs the cup from him and stomps into the kitchen.
Spike murmurs to her. “It makes you hot, doesn’t it, Buffy? The hitting. The flesh contacting flesh. The adrenaline rush. The fast movement.”
“Spike, drop it.”
“You can’t lie to me, Buffy. I can smell your excitement, your frustration. It was all over you when you came back. All the way down to LA, you anticipated touching, kissing. Then nothing. You stewed in your disappointment all the way back.”
“Spike,” Buffy says warningly.
“Hear me out, pet. Let me please you. You don’t even have to untie me. I can’t bite you.”
“Ew.”
“Why not, love?”
“There are a world of reasons of no.”
“You have no control over anything in your life, do you?”
Buffy looks away from him.
“I’ll let you control me. I’m already tied to this chair. I’ve got a chip won’t let me hurt you. If I said anything, who would believe me?”
“Shut up, Spike, before I have to gag you.”
“Very well.”
Spike sits silently, just watching her as she finds the right places in her books and opens a notebook.
“Quit staring at me, Spike,” Buffy says after a while.
“But your hair is like spun gold. When you toss your head, it’s like a spill of sunlight through the high tree branches.”
“Deadly?”
“Beautiful,” he breathes. “Like God’s own blessing streaming down from up on high.”
“I’m trying to do my homework, here.”
He sits silently for a little bit. “Your skin is smooth and warm like the inner bark of a birch tree which is bathed by that sun.”
Buffy ignores him.
“Your neck is every graceful curve man has tried to capture by putting chisel to marble.”
She shifts in her seat.
“Your strength is that of a panther, apparent even when you are at rest.”
She flexes her shoulders.
“Your cunning is like the fox’s. She hunts and waits and catches and slays.”
She looks over at him. Takes in his soft, inviting smile which is unlike any expression she’s seen on him.
“Your eyes are warm pools of soul. They sparkle with intelligence and life.”
She stands up and moves toward him.
“Your lips are the sweetest wine ever pressed from grapes grown on holy ground.”
“Shut up, Spike.”
“Your voice is the murmur of a deep stream over smooth pebbles.”
She stands in front of him. He lets his eyes travel down her body.
“Your breasts are smooth mounds. Idealized visions of femininity.”
She closes the step of space between them.
“Your shapely legs…” Buffy straddles his lap, and interrupts his poetry with a hard, intense kiss. Just as suddenly, Buffy is away from him and pushes him over backwards. Spike lays panting on the floor.
“I said, shut up.” Buffy goes back to her books.
After half an hour, Spike starts speaking again, quietly, from his place on the floor. “I have over a hundred years of practice, Buffy. With but one word from you, I will pleasure you an any way you request.”
She pretends to have not heard.
After a little while comes his smooth voice. “I have stamina and strength to match your own. There would be no fear of hurting me.”
She reads the same page in her history book three times.
“I have no soul to loose. I have no friends to tell. I can be your secret. You can use me as you will, when you will. You can come to me in dark places after the slaying has made you horny and frustrated.”
She is staring at the picture of George Washington in her book as if he might give her answers.
“Spike,” she sighs. “Don’t make things harder.”
“I don’t think I can be much harder, pet.” He lets her imagine that for a while.
Thirty minutes pass and Spike is silent. “Spike?”
“Yes, love?”
“Just checking.”
“That I’m still here? That I still want you? I do.”
“Well, I sure as hell don’t want you.”
“May I please myself, Chosen? From the time you stepped in the room I grew hard at your scent.” Buffy says nothing, but shifts in her seat. “My cock strains against its denim prison, wanting nothing more than to be sheathed in the warmth of your body.” Silence again. “Please, Chosen.” He says ‘Chosen’ like some people say ‘God.’ “Your permission is all I need.”
Buffy is drawn to walk over and look down at him. His eyes travel the length of her body and he moans. She can very clearly see the outline of his hard penis. His hands grip the seat of the chair. “Oh, Chosen. If I cannot worship you or pay you proper homage, I beg you be gone from my sight.” His voice is hoarse with need. Buffy considers this.
“Okay.” She returns to the couch, leaving him in his tortured state. Spike moans. “Be quiet! I’ve got homework.” She picks up her book once more, but cannot concentrate. All she can do is visualize releasing Spike’s hard cock from his jeans. “Damn it,” she curses quietly. Buffy strides across the room without looking at Spike, grabs her overnight bag, and heads for the bathroom.
“Chosen, I never knew you could be so cruel. Please. I can’t take it, knowing you’ll be naked so close, yet so far from me. Allow me the small release I can bring myself.”
Buffy wheels on him, looking him only in the face. “Fine. Do whatever you want to yourself. I don’t want to see and I don’t want to know.”
“I promise, Chosen.” She turns to go. “But know this. I’ll still be able to pleasure you any time.” She storms into the bathroom and slams the door. She hears a moan from the other room and quickly turns on the shower.
In the sound and steam from the water, she lets herself relax. Her anger toward Angel is gone, but in it’s place is a deep loss. A re-opened wound. She lets the tears come. For five minutes she sobs in the privacy of the shower, then washes away all traces of her disappointment and the long bus ride. Of course, her mind is drawn back to Spike.
Spike and Angel hate one another. Here is Spike, gorgeous, sexy, and willing to give her what Angel would not. What he can not. The vamp’s arguments are sound. She doesn’t have to untie him. No one will believe him. She fingers herself in the last of the hot water.
Buffy dries off and styles her hair before leaving the bathroom. Her anticipation growing. She steps out of the bathroom in a towel. Spike still lies on his back. Now his black t-shirt is untucked and pulled over his crotch. His eyes are closed. He winces away and closes his eyes tighter when she steps up next to his head.
“I’m sorry, Chosen. I have covered myself as best I can. With my arms tied like this, I can not… put it back.”
“I want to see you try,” Buffy commands, not quite standing near enough for him to see under the bottom of the towel.
His eyes fly open in surprise at having the game turned on him. They grow wide in seeing her lack of dress. “Buffy?” he says in wonder.
“You can only call me Chosen,” she resists the urge to kick him. “Put your toy away.”
Of course, the sight of the Slayer clad only in a white towel with her golden hair clean and soft around her shoulders standing over him has made Spike grow hard again. He fumbles with his shirt, reaching under to try to tuck his rebellious member away.
Buffy sighs. “You can never get it done that way. Get that shirt out of the way. Watch what you’re doing.”
Spike tears his eyes from the blonde and attempts to tuck his shirt out of the way. Buffy can see his very hard member which would never in the best of circumstances fit back in his tight black jeans. “I can’t do it, Chosen.”
Quickly, Buffy moves to his head. The alert vampire catches only the briefest glimpse under the towel before Buffy picks up the chair and sets him upright. She stands in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Well? Can you do it now?”
Spike stops gaping at Buffy and fumbles once more with his shirt and very hard penis. “I am sorry, Chosen. Not without help. Or release.”
Buffy steps close and slaps him. Spike gasps. She sees his penis jump. “You have already had one release.”
Spike looks down, “I… I’ve had two. The thought of your shapely body with hot soapy water coursing over it…”
Buffy slaps him again. “Then you owe me at least four.”
Spike can only gape up at the Slayer. He never believed his baiting and seduction would work. It was only out of boredom, well, and hatred for Angel, that he tried at all. “Yes, Chosen. Tell me what to do and I will serve you to the best of my ability.” He knows this game well. He’s played it often with Drusilla. Curiously enough, he’s been more afraid of Dru.
Being careful to not actually touch him, Buffy pulls away his shirt and tucks it up into the ropes binding his upper body to the chair. Then she yanks his leather belt out of its loops and tosses it aside. She tries to not show too much interest in this nicely-shaped very hard member which is presented to her. Buffy has only slept with two men and honestly has not had the chance to study one in good light. She steps back and looks him over critically. “Is the zipper binding?”
“Yes, Chosen.”
“Oh, well, It’s the best you can do while tied to a chair. Now. Tell me how you can pleasure me while in such a ridiculous situation.”
“I can use my mouth,” with a grin, Spike sticks out his very long tongue and touches the tip of his chin. Buffy wastes no time in dragging his chair over to the stairs pushing him over backwards once again. Spike’s head hits a stair with a thump, but he does not protest. With Slayer quickness, she is kneeling on his face.
“Show me what you can do. And keep your hands still. Unless you are pleasing me with them, you are not allowed to move your hands.”
With decades of practice, Spike plies his tongue like and artist his brush. He slips it deep inside and drinks of her juices. He snakes it back to just lightly brush her nether hole. He uses long strokes to lap at the lips. Buffy is writhing over him, needing more. He stops his attention. She whimpers at the lack of movement and sits up on his chest. “Why did you stop?”
With as casual an air as a vamp can have when tied to a chair and pinned between the Slayer’s legs, Spike looks up at her. “Oh? You’ve not come? Take off my pants next and I’ll keep going.” He brings his head up and just brushes her clit with his tongue.
“Yes!” Buffy gasps and sits on his face once again. With quick, precise flicks of his tongue, Spike soon has Buffy crying out and grinding her bush into his face. When she can take no more, she crawls up the stairs and off of him.
He grins to hear her panting so. “Did you enjoy that, Chosen? Did I please you?”
“Shut up, Spike,” she half-heartedly mutters.
Spike waits until her breathing evens out. “Take off my pants, love and you can have lots more fun.”
“I can have fun with you as you are, too.”
“I fear the zipper will scratch you.”
“Good point.” Once again she sets him up.
“Boots first,” he holds up one foot. She shoots him a dirty look. “Untie me, and I’ll do it myself.” Buffy removes his heavy boots and tosses them aside. She grabs the waistband of his jeans and tugs down. Spike lifts himself as best he can. She doesn’t see his smirk when she leans over close to pull at his pants.
“These are so tight. How do you wear them?”
“I don’t have to breathe.”
Finally she has peeled the jeans off. Spike’s penis stands hard and dark from its nest of dark curls. Buffy catches herself gawking. It’s a little longer and narrower than Angel’s and so much bigger then Parker’s.
“Please, Chosen. I know I am not worthy, but allow me to view your full beauty.”
“Because you have pleased me once, I will reward you.” That, and she wants to be admired and touched. The towel is in her way. She poses and slowly untucks the towel. She lets it fall from around her, but holds it over her breasts, still covering most of her body. Spike’s penis jumps and he gasps.
“Oh, Chosen,” he breathes.
“You swear you will never tell anyone about this night?”
“I swear. Who would believe me, anyway?”
She drops the towel. Spike moans in appreciation as he tries to look everywhere at once. He purrs at her. “You can do what you like with me, love. I like all kinds of things. Touch me any way you want. Put me any where you want.” Buffy’s eyes flick from his cock to his face. “I’m not like other vampires. I’m already evil. No lies in the packaging here.”
At this reminder of Angel, Buffy is suddenly struck with the wrongness of it. “No! this isn’t right!” She grabs the towel and dashes to the far side of the room.
“Why isn’t it right?” Spike’s voice follows her, coaxing. Inwardly, he’s cursing his choice of words. “I owe you three orgasms, Chosen. If you do not return to me and allow me to please you this night the debt will hang between us. I am hard, you are wet. No one will ever know.”
She pauses, torn. She’s never been so horny. After a minute’s consideration, Buffy storms back to him, clutching the towel around her. “Not even Angel. You must never tell Angel,” she insists through gritted teeth.
“Peaches will not hear it from me,” he bites his lower lip. “But can I be there when you tell him?” Buffy slugs him, making his head rock back. “Maybe we can call him up and let him watch?” She hits him again. Both are breathing hard. “Fuck me, Chosen.”
She straddles his lap. Spike groans as she impales herself on his cool, hard cock. Her breasts bob before his face. “May I… may I kiss you, Chosen? Your breasts… so close.”
“No.” She settles down on his lap, his cock deep within her. She is enjoying tormenting him. “And you can not come. Like you said, you owe me two.”
He puts his hands on her ass. “Chosen,” he growls. “What you ask is…”
“Tricky?” She tosses her hair, making herself shift on his lap. He groans again, wanting nothing more than to thrust hard into her, to bite at her pert breasts. Buffy pats his cheek. “I’m sure you can hold on.” She cruelly starts riding him slowly. Her hands on his shoulders. Her chest close in his face. She uses him, filling and empting herself with each stroke. Feeling every inch. “Talk pretty to me, Spike. Like you were before.”
“What?” He is lost in his own world, trying hard to not come. “Oh. Your smooth skin is a perfect canvas of… of beauty.” Buffy reaches down between them. “Your… your life shines like a… fire of … strength.” She pauses at the apex of her thrust. Only the tip of his penis is within her. “I have seen thousands of woman in my long life and you are the most stunning.” She works her fingers rapidly over her clit. “You are the Chosen one.” Her body bucks once. “You shine like the ideal of womanhood.” Her body rocks again, hard. “Even if you were not the Slayer, I would choose you.” With a cry, Buffy thrusts down, abruptly filling herself with his straining cock. “You are beauty…” His words are cut off as She kisses him, roughly. Her fingers work her clit as she rides him. Spike’s mind is a whirl as the sensations of Slayer muscles and the taste of the Slayer’s mouth bombard him. He fights to keep from coming.
Finally, she slows and settles down, still impaled on his lap. She tosses her hair aside and looks down at him. His teeth are clinched and he is panting. His cheekbones stand out. “You didn’t come,” she says, surprised.
“You… you told me not to, Chosen.” Again, his years with Dru have come in handy. Her methods of training were much more cruel, but no less effective.
Buffy raises and lowers herself a bit, causing him to gasp. “Would you like to?”
“Oh God yes.”
“What’s in it for me? I mean, you would still owe me. Plus, with the rate you set of I get two to your one…”
“I didn’t, you…”
“Yes. You did.”
Spike looks away. “Sure. I guess I did.”
“Anyway,” she tosses her hair, shifting around him. “This would mean you would be in my debt. It’s a slippery,” she rises up and back down a little, “slope of debt.” Spike inhales through his teeth.
“I’ll be good. I’ll do what ever you tell me until our debt is clear.”
“I can have a pet vampire. I like that.” She dismounts, and Spike tries to lounge after her. “Uh, uh,” She scolds. Slowly, she turns around and presents her ass to Spike. Coyly, he looks back at him. “Just to be fair, I think I’ll collect another orgasm before you have yours.”
“But I can recover. I can go all night, Chosen.”
“Did I ask your opinion? Be a good, still toy.” Buffy backs up. She plants her hands on his knees, her ass in his face. “Oh, Spike. There is something I will allow. You can kiss my ass.”
Spike resists the urge to bite her, knowing the chip would kill his whole mood. Instead, he plies as careful attention to her sweet round buttocks as he had her clit earlier. He kisses and licks her buttocks. This is yet another new experience for her. She reaches down and wraps one hand around his cock. Spike almost looses it at this unexpected attention. She lowers herself, guiding him into her dripping pussy. “Touch me, Spike,” she gasps. Now cursing the ropes, he finds her clit and fingers it in just the right way. Then he stops. “Spike!”
“Let me come, Chosen.”
She can only resist a minute. “Come, yes come inside me. Just touch me! Make me come too!”
“All right!” growls Spike. He thrusts into her as best he can, enjoying the waves of pleasure that shake the Slayer. Both spent, she slides off his lap to sit at his feet.
“I owe you three,” says Spike after both catch their breath.
Buffy looks up at him. “No more tonight. I’m tired. Plus, I want to keep you a pet. This will never happen again.” She pulls herself to her feet. “I need another shower.”
“I do, too. And. I have to get dressed.”
“That will mean untying you.”
Spike shrugs. “Okay. I don’t mind being sans pants. I’ll leave it to you to explain my state to Giles.” Spike smiles at her serenely.
“Fine. You shower, dress, then back to your chair.”
“Sounds like a plan to me, love.”
Buffy unties him. He rises and stretches. “That feels good.” He heads for the bathroom. “Join me?”
“No!”
“Okay, less hot water for you.”
“I’m first.”
“So I’ll just watch you?”
“No.”
“You want to re-tie me, shower, untie me, then sit around while I shower, only to re-re-tie me before going to bed?”
Buffy sighs. “A quick shower. That’s it. You are not allowed to come again tonight.”
It’s not long before the steam and Spike’s talented hands turn the quick shower into another fucking. Spike plants his feet and picks up Buffy. She wraps her legs around his slim hips. He drives hard and fast into her. Both are still aroused and come almost together.
“Damn,” murmurs Spike as he puts her down. “I guess I owe you four now.”
“Actually,” Buffy answers. “It’s only three. I came during my first shower.”
“I didn’t cause that one. We don’t have to count it.”
She looks up at him from lowered lashes. “Yes, you did.”
“You’re wicked. I like that.”
A short while later, both are dry and dressed. Spike as he was and Buffy in her sweats and tank top.
“You don’t have to re-tie me you know. I can join you. Upstairs.” He moves in close, not quite touching her.
“What will Giles say?”
“Hang the Watcher. Let’s fuck in his bed.”
Buffy shoves him away. “Sit down. You will be tied up and stay that way. You will say nothing of this evening to anyone or I will stake you without hesitation.”
Spike sighs, resigned. He picks up his chair and places it where it was earlier. “Morning sun,” he shrugs, pointing to the brightness in the windows.
Buffy ties him up and heads off to bed. She sleeps until eleven.
Coming downstairs, she finds Spike asleep in his chair as she left him. She ponders how pleasant he looks when asleep and how passionate when aroused. No! Bad morning thoughts. It never happened. She moves to the kitchen, fixes herself an omelet and eats it while watching him sleep.
As if sensing her watching him, he awakes. “Anything in there for me, love?” She heats a cup of blood and hands it to him without looking him in the eyes. “Was it that horrible?” he smiles as he takes the cup. She does not mind his stroking his fingers so much this time.
“It didn’t happen. Do not bring it up.”
“Does that mean I can please myself when I want to again?”
“Yes. But… you have to think about me.”
Spike smiles.
Giles comes in at this minute, and Buffy startles although nothing was happening. “Giles! Welcome home! Would you like an omelet?”
“Hello,” Giles puts a box on the table and hangs up his coat. “No thanks. He looks around the room. No broken furniture. Spike is not dust. Everything go well?”
“Sure. Sure,” Buffy’s voice is a bit shrill. “I didn’t get my homework done because of jabber mouth here, but all’s well.”
Spike puts in. “She kept me up all night. Didn’t you, Chosen?” Giles looks to Buffy and Spike smiles behind his back. “She snores.”
She shoots him a poisonous look, he just grins wickedly and licks his lips. “He’s a horrible roommate, Giles. I suggest you get a dog instead.” Buffy gathers her things. “I have to go to class and fail a history exam. Next time you have to leave him, just chain him in the tub and go.”
“Oh, Slayer!” Buffy pauses in the door. “Thank you for letting me shower. I was feeling a little… used.”
Buffy can not leave quickly enough.
Giles starts untying Spike as soon as she is gone. “How did it go?”
“Flawlessly. I must say, I’ve not had…”
“I don’t need to know details, please.” Giles finishes untying his legs and steps away.
“She went for the bait.”
“Good. Maybe now she’ll quit pining after Angel.”
Spike laughs. “Oh, I think I can keep the poof out of her mind. Now about our deal?”
“Oh, yes.” Giles goes to the box and lifts out a small cooler. “Human. Fresh. Two bags.”
“Thank you, Rupert. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
“And I thank you for keeping my Slayer sane. She scared the hell out of that Parker boy. Her Slayer strength and appetites are a curse.”
“Blessing to me.” Spike says, heating a mug of fresh payment.
Note: Written for my Virtual Rendezvouser |
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