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“What would they think of you if they found out all the things you've done?” Spike “Dead Things”
“Why do I feel like this?
Why do I let Spike do those things to me?” Buffy “Dead Things”
Just what were the unspeakable things Buffy let Spike do to her and did she really not enjoy them?
Season 6 between “Smashed” & “Dead Things”
Spike knows she will come tonight. After patrolling or trying to patrol she has started showing up at his crypt. She will not let him speak, not let him say the things he feels. As much as he wants to claim the title of “Evil Vampire of the Century” he loves the Slayer. Sometimes he will say the words to her just so she would hit him to shut him up. His body tingles at the thought of her slim little hand cracking across his face. Tonight there is something he wants to do.
Buffy pauses to
study another tombstone. “Lost to Us, But Not to God” reads this one. For
years now, she has played at memorizing grave markers to pass time while hunting
vampires and other evil things to kill. Tonight she admits she is attempting to
stay away from Spike. He is going to play another one of his games. I just
know it. He loves to make me throw him around and play rough. Oh god… why do I
keep going back for more? She reads another three inscriptions before
admitting: Maybe because it feels so damn good.
He senses her out there, at the far side of the cemetery. Moving rapidly about the room, he lights the candles that sit on every surface. Normally, he has maybe six candles lit. But tonight is special. He wants to see her and what he is going to do to her.
Then she is there at the door, and hesitating. “Come in, Pet,” the vampire whispers quietly. “Spikey’s got something special planned for you.”
The door opens quickly, a slight blonde girl slips in and closes the door behind her. Buffy turns and freezes when she sees the amount of light in the normally dark crypt. The taller, bleach-blonde vampire is dressed in his black t-shirt and jeans. He stands barefoot and smiles seductively at her.
“Don’t go, Love,” Spike murmurs. “It’s my turn to choose the game.” He moves up to her and takes the satchel of stakes, crosses, and holy water she carries on patrol and sets the slaying tools aside without taking his eyes from her. She is wearing a little lace-up top and tight black leather pants. Spike is thrilled. This is the best thing she could have warn tonight.
“No,” she says firmly and tries to leave. It’s to bright. What’s he up to? What does he want to do tonight? Her eyes dart wildly around the room, hoping for clues.
“Shh… shhh… shh… It’s all okay. You’re here in the secret zone, remember?” Spike leads her into the room and stands her beside the sarcophagus which one time served as his bed. He’s draped it armloads of soft blankets he nicked off the loading dock of an import store just for her.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Buffy quips, “It’s almost cozy.”
“It all vanishes when I see you. The whole world does.”
Buffy looks at him with her Oh-god-what-am-I-doing about-to-bolt-look.
He steps close and gently takes her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his. “You are beautiful. Your hair, your eyes, your body,” he says, adding and your soul to himself. “I want to look at you. All this tumble and rough in dark, shadowy places. I have never really seen you in the light.” Gently he kisses her, moving his hands to the ties on that oh so tight, tiny, lacy top she is wearing.
“Spike…” she protests.
“Shush. It’s my turn. Close your eyes and feel.”
As her smooth skin is exposed, Spike’s lips and hands lightly touch, caress. Oh God, he knows just what to do. Buffy can’t help but respond. Soon the sexy bra follows the top. Spike has seen and ravaged thousands of breasts in his existence, and thinks her pert set most perfect. The great, wobbly masses of flesh some men pant over never appealed. He cups one and kisses around the edge of it, circling in to the hard little nipple in the center. He smiles around this morsel as he hears Buffy moan and shift to lean back against the sarcophagus.
To a vampire, the world is painted in many layers of odor. There are as many scents as there are colors. Breathing in the musk of her, he licks the sweat line where bra met body. Buffy stiffens and tries to stop him. “Ew,” she says.
“You taste like the spices from India,” he says, his voice quiet and smooth. “From long ago when they were grown far away, picked and placed in bags and carried many dusty miles to England. The salt of the sea added in while they rocked across the waves in ships.”
No girl could protest that.
He kneels before her and runs his hands down the leather of her pants, feeling the curve of her compact muscles underneath, to grasp one of her small feet. He marvels again at how gracefully she can fight and how quickly she can run in the thick-soled boots she favors. He draws off one boot, then the other. He pulls off her socks and plants kisses on the pink-painted toes. He thrills to think how deadly these pedicured feet can be. One kick can hurl him across the room. Spike has to shift his throbbing member.
He draws back to look at her as he unzips the leather pants. The candlelight glistens on her skin that is sweaty from slaying in the hot California evening and now from his touch. Her head is thrown back and blonde hair brushes her shoulders.
Spike slowly unzips the fly, watching as the elastic of her panties is revealed. He takes her hips and turns her around. The leather peels smoothly from the round, firm globes of her buttocks, like opening a wild and exotic fruit. A thong! That’s my girl! His tongue traces the sweat lines down and around, lapping the essence from her skin. Her blood is taboo, but this, too, is of her. She leans forward onto the sarcophagus bed as he peels the pants down and lifts out one foot, then the other. Spike then steps back to see her, his head tilted to one side. Her lean little body is covered only by a pink flowered strap, which covers the crack of her ass and around her waist. He anticipates what he wants to do and groans aloud.
Buffy turns her head to look at him, flipping a wave of golden hair over one shoulder. He groans again. This makes Buffy grin, deepen the curve of her back, and sway her hips. Oh God, I just want to throw myself on her and have her right now. No, that’s not my plan. “Stop that,” he says aloud, “you’ll spoil it.”
She looks at him levelly for a moment before turning back around “Okay, you’re the boss.” If he wants to pretend he’s in control, I’ll let him. Besides, this kind of attention is nice.
Spike peels off his t-shirt and steps up close again. He leans over and runs his long-fingered hands through her hair and over her back. He is so much taller than she is without those boots on, it is easy to touch where he wants and avoid touching where he wants so badly to. She is tiny under his hands. He kisses her shoulder blades and runs the bare tip of his tongue over the knots of her spine.
Then he kneels behind her, taking in the gold of her skin in the candlelight. In the lighting she glows, like she has brought in some of the sun with her. He watches the flex of her muscles as she lifts her ass, waiting for him to remove the last little barrier to nudity. At last he reaches up and hooks a finger in either side of the waistband of her thong and slowly rolls it down. He watches her pert, tiny asshole appear like the sunrise he will never see.
Below is the tuft of blonde hair he so loves to bury his face in. He takes the garment the rest of the way off, tucks it in his back pocket, and steps back again. “Are you liking it slow, Pet?” Buffy can only nod. “There is only one rule for tonight’s game. You can only say one of two things: ‘stop’ or ‘more.’”
“Okay, but I won’t say stop,” she answers, smiling back at him.
“I’ve not started yet,” Spike purrs, biting the tip of his tongue.
Buffy suddenly sees in his mischievous grin that elusive side of Spike that should not be there. What is it about him? I know what he is. I know he is evil, what he has done and can do. Yet, I trust him. Although I will never let him know that. “Go on, please.”
For a second, Spike wonders at himself. For over 120 years he has raped, killed, tortured, and maimed maybe a couple thousand people. His sex with Dru had stopped just short of dismemberment several times. Even sex with Buffy had brought down a house. This thing I want to do to her, with her… He flashes back to human, teenage fantasies. Dark, private Victorian-age fantasies. At a time when all sex was publicly frowned upon, this act was frowned upon most of all. Nice ladies would not do that.
Again he lightly kisses and touches her with constant, thorough slow motions. He strokes her back, buttocks, and legs. Licking the pockets of sweet musk and sweat he finds like pools of treasure. Finally, he reaches down between the squirming Slayer’s legs and pats the tuft of golden hair, just once.
Buffy gasps, and Spike smiles and chuckles. “Not yet, Luv.” He brings his hand to his mouth and licks off the dew he gathered.
He begins kissing and stroking her buttocks. First one side, then the other, working his way in.
Buffy moans and squirms, trying to re-aim his tongue forward, to her clit. He fights her, for this is not Spike’s goal tonight. He puts a hand on each cheek and starts kissing and licking at the base of her spine. He spreads her open. Slowly, he works his way down the crack of her ass. The vampire does not need to breathe, but he inhales deeply of the intimate, musky smell of her. When he reaches the little pucker, he darts out his tongue and taps it.
Buffy jerks at this new sensation. “What are you up to? No one has ever…”
Spike cuts her off. “’Stop’ or ‘more’, or the game’s over.” Spike watches her asshole pucker in consideration.
All the bad things she has ever heard abut anal sex troop through her mind. Yet that brief touch felt so surprisingly good. She wants to know… “More.” She admits her desires to Spike when she had never admitted them to herself.
He works his way inwards again. He taps at her opening until Buffy groans and pushes back for more. Then he eases in his tongue. He feels her squeeze and release, trying out this new sensation and wanting more. Spike can smell her juices as they run down her legs.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a tube of slippery gel. This is a wonderful age. He flips open the top, drops a dollop on her asshole, and chuckles as she gasps the sudden chill. “You like it cold, pet, I know,” he says as he makes coats his finger. He puts it in place and holds still.
“Want it, Pet?” Buffy whimpers in reply. Ever so slowly, Spike starts to work his long, pale finger in where no man has gone before. He encounters resistance and stops. Buffy’s world has narrowed to her asshole and the gently intruding cool finger. “Relax and push back when it feels right,” he instructs, kissing a cheek.
After a minute of Buffy rocking back and forth slightly, she relaxes and his finger slides all the way in at once. This is a new sensation she never suspected existed. It is too much and she starts to come. Spike keeps his finger in place and reaches between her legs to press his hand against her dripping slit. It takes all his vampire strength to keep hold of her.
After a minute, Spike pulls his finger out which sets off another wave of spasms. Then he takes the other hand away, too.
“More!” pants Buffy. She wants nothing in the world more than the return of that sensation.
“The night is young,” Spike says through a grin.
He picks her up easily and lays her on the pile of blankets. He washes his hand in a basin of water and watches as aftershocks shake her. He lies down beside her and props his head up on one hand. He stops her when she goes to touch herself. “I have more planned. Catch your breath.”
After a while, Buffy opens her eyes and watches a guttering candle. “I’ve never done anything like that at all. I’ve never even really thought about it.”
Spike shrugs. “You live, you learn a few things.”
“But it’s not something you’re supposed to do. It’s considered…”
“Wrong? Unnatural?” Spike interrupts. “In my long existence and in all the places I have traveled I have known it to be considered both sacred and profane. It can be an evil violation or,” he runs a finger over her cheek, “it can be a special, intimate expression of love. Take your time; keep it clean, it only feels good. As for unnatural… Hello, fucking a vampire.”
She turns to study him. “I don’t understand. You’re being so…” she trails off and looks puzzled at him.
“Kinky?” Spike quirks and eyebrow at her.
Spike rolls onto his back and gazes at nothing. “My introduction to such things was… less than gentle.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Buffy says quietly. She knows all his long existence wasn’t enjoyable.
Spike’s thoughts are forced back to the night over a hundred years before when Angelus, the vampire who took it upon himself to teach Spike all the ways one should behave in order to be truly evil, first attacked him. There is a good reason I call him a poof. It was only years later, by himself, he explored the subtle pleasures such things could provide. His teenage fantasies of fucking a woman in the ass became blended with the desire to introduce someone to these pleasures in the proper way.
“It is a dominance thing when done wrong. It’s a trust thing when done right,” Spike says, turning to face her.
“I don’t trust you and you are not dominating me.”
“Riiiiiight.” Spike rolls off the bed. “Caught your breath? Back where you were, then.”
Buffy slides off the bed and leans back against it, facing him and spreading her legs.
“Turn around,” Spike twirls a finger in the air. “Assume the position.”
She leans on the bed and sticks out her ass.
Spike comes up behind her and starts kissing and caressing her back again, starting at the scar where Ethan Rayne’s tattoo was removed from the base of her neck. He loves the curves of her and how they fit against his sharp angles as she presses back to rub against where his erection strains the fabric of his jeans. This time he reaches around to cup her breasts and pinch the nipples. Then he runs his hands down to find her dripping pussy. Avoiding her clit, he slips one finger in her cunt after another. Buffy squirms under him.
“You feel that, Love?”
“Ummm hummm,” Buffy moans.
He turns and thrusts his hand until most of his long fingers are inside her and warmed by her heat, working them gently in and out. “I bet you still fell empty.”
Buffy considers what he’s said. “I do. Something’s missing.”
Spike retrieves the lube and flips the top. Once again, he starts a slow approach to her asshole. Soon, he has one finger in and lets her get used to it. He adds another and another. She is writhing under him.
I just realized something, my sweet.” Spike stands up. “You have never seen me in the light, either,” he taunts as he unzips his jeans.
Buffy turns around to watch him. He’s right, and I really do want to see. She takes in all the wonderful sharp angles of him and the pale, smooth skin like polished ivory. Again she is surprised at how few scars he has. Vampires heal cleanly. She watches as his penis is finally free and he takes it in his hand to ‘work out the slack’ where it had been trapped in his jeans. It is about seven inches long and very hard. The head is a bit thicker than the shaft and it has an upward bend. The foreskin winks over the tip as he works it. The hair at its base is dark and curly.
The vampire revels in the way she is watching him. He does a slow turn so she can enjoy all the angles. He can hear her heart speed up.
Her first thought is of how good he feels buried deep inside her. Then she realizes what he has planned. “It’s too big,” she says, staring at his hard cock, her eyes widening.
“I won’t hurt you… much. It can be done. I’ve got you loosened up and ready.” He pauses, “I’ll tell you true. There is a pain when it first goes in. Just freeze and relax. It sounds strange, but that’s how it works.” He bites his lip as he picks up his jeans and fishes in one pocket. He comes up with a little foil packet.
“A vampire who carries a condom?” Buffy is puzzled.
“This makes cleaning up so much easier.” With deft fingers he opens the packet and rolls the condom over his penis. Then he picks up the lube and coats himself with it. “Plus you can say stop at any time and I will. The rewards are well worth it.” He tilts his head to one side to watch her.
She looks from his penis to his eyes. Why do I trust him? “More,” she states as she turns around once again. I have to admit it, or keep feeling this emptiness and yearning.
“That’s my girl.” In goes one finger at a time, but a little quicker. When he pulls them out, she gasps.
“More, oh my god, more!”
Spike takes his penis and runs it along her crack, teasing her asshole. “Feel that? It’s coming soon. I’ll be buried to the hilt.” He finally places it against he slippery, gaping hole. He lets it rest there and pushes ever so slightly. Buffy still doubts and moves away a bit.
“I tell you what, Love. I’ll be stone, nice and still and cool. You control it.” Spike runs a hand over her smooth back, holding his penis in place with the other. He holds still, the bare tip inside her, one hand lightly on her hip.
Buffy reaches back and touches her anus. She feels where his cool hard flesh is invading her hot soft, self. She explores the size of him. “Think of how full you’ll be,” he rasps. “Relax, down and out.” She puts her hands on the sarcophagus and rests her head on them. Her whole world is his dick and her ass.
Spike is hyper aware of Buffy as she pushes in toward him and pulls back in tiny movements. He regrets not bringing in a mirror so he could see her face. He can feel her heartbeat and the movement of her sphincter as it gets used to this intrusion. It almost drives him over the edge. He feels himself go vamp face and shakes it off. Every bit of him wants to thrust in, dive deep and throw himself on her.
“Easy...” he breathes as much to himself as to her. He looks down at her smooth back; at the tan lines across her body and lets loose a purring growl.
After what feels to him like hours, Buffy pauses and he can feel her relax. It is like learning a new fighting technique. I suddenly know just what to do. She leans over just a little bit more and pushes back slowly and evenly until he head of his penis pops past the resistance. Both gasp and Buffy freezes. She feels sweat pop out on her forehead. It’s a pain she can’t describe. She cannot compare it to any she has felt, and there have been plenty. As he said, it passes shortly. She cranes her neck around to see him. His head is thrown back. Feeling her shift, he looks down at her. His eyes are demon yellow. She is suddenly afraid of him. “Spike… you…”
“Do you want to quit? We can…”
“No, your eyes…”
Spike closes his eyes and takes a calming breath. They are human blue when he opens them once more. “I’m sorry, it feels so… intense.” Spike smiles. “That’s the hardest bit. Lots of slippery and lots of slow are the keys. Is it too much?” His voice is velvet, yet rough.
“No, no.” I will not let him know he scared me. “It’s all new, I’ve never felt anything like it. More. Now.”
Buffy starts gently rocking, pushing back slightly and pulling away.
“Oh god, Buffy. You’re killing me.” Spike groans. SO hot. It’s like sticking my dick in a bank of embers. And so tight!
She does not reply. She can feel the progress of his cool flesh as it warms inside her. He’s right, I do like it cold. I don’t bother to warm my vibrator any more. Finally her round buttocks rest against his sharp hipbones. Her bush tickles his balls.
A shudder passes through her and she manages to whisper, “you can move now, Spike.”
He growls and presses into her as far as he possibly can and rocks against her. Then he pulls smoothly out of her.
Buffy is demanding this time. “More!” she says through gritted teeth.
“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Spike picks up the lube and squirts more into her open hole. “It’s going to be a wild ride.”
This time he lets the vamp out and burrows himself deep within her with an even, smooth lunge. Throwing himself on her, he buries his face in her hair. Deeply he inhales the fruity scent of her shampoo mixed with her own musk. Mingled with this he smells the dust of vampires she has slain this night. This reminder of her deadliness adds to his excitement. With solid, long thrusts like a pile driver, Spike fucks Buffy’s no-longer virgin ass, which rises to meet him thrust for thrust. Her cries and moans are music to him.
He reaches under her to finger her clit. At the first touch she bucks so hard he’s afraid she will rip his penis off. He holds off just a few minutes more then starts coming as Buffy’s orgasm rolls through her in wave after wave. His cold come gushes deep inside her.
They collapse in a tingled pile of blankets beside the sarcophagus. Many of the candles have gutted out.
“Wow,” Buffy says, “who knew?”
“I did,” Spike replies with his eyes closed and a lazy, satisfied grin.
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