Buffy opened her eyes and glanced at her clock, or where her clock should have been. But it was not there. Neither was her lamp or anything else that a few hours ago had been next to her bed. She placed a hand over her eyes, clutching the top sheet around her securely. Had she really had sex with Spike? Once she could have excused as being delirious or a momentary lapse of reason, but there was no excuse for multiple times. She slunk down in the bed when she counted up to five times and did not want to count any more.
She sat up, drawing the sheet around her as she moved to the floor to find her clock. Every muscle in her lower body let her know she had used them in ways she never had before. Her one time prior to last night had not prepared her for the things Spike wanted to try. She glanced to Spike who was sprawled out naked besides her sleeping. She could just picture the satisfied look he would get in his eyes if he knew she was sore because of him.
She found the alarm clock, but all it told her was that it was not quite sunrise and that she and Spike had been having sex for hours. She padded to the window and opened the blinds a little. She would have to close them again before returning to the bed unless she wanted to have a crispy Spike in her bed in a couple of hours. She rested her forehead against the windowpane and sighed softly. Until tonight, she would have been revolted by the thought of any kind of Spike in her bed.
He had treated her like the gentleman she imagined he once was until they had gotten up to her room. Not that she had acted much like a lady herself. Was there something wrong with her? She had not acted so brazen with Angel. Making love with Angel had been exactly that, making love. She had loved him, he had loved her and that had expressed those feelings. Love had nothing to do with what she and Spike had done. A part of her thought she should feel dirty and repulsed by what they had done. She was not exactly rushing to the shower to clean herself, so what exactly did that say?
She glanced over her shoulder at his sleeping form, feeling the warmth of a blush on her face as his hand sought one of the iron pieces that made up her headboard. She tried to push back the image it produced of both his hands over his head, grasping the headboard with her on top of him. Handcuffs are better, he had said. She hoped he was teasing, but as the night continued she had stopped hoping he was teasing and wanted him to show her what made them better.
He had secured her wrists above her head with one of his hands, which was sort of pointless because both knew had she really wanted to get out of his grasp it would not have been difficult for her to do. She had to admit it was sort of fun playing helpless and it seemed to turn him on. She hated not being able to touch him, which he claimed was the point. She had her mouth available to her, and though she could not see it in the dark she knew his chest displayed the results of her only being able to use her mouth to touch him. His point had been driven home the next time he was inside of her because like a man dying of thirst coming upon a watering hole she had touched him everywhere just because she could. And she had relished being able to touch him.
She turned to the window once more. All was quiet on the street below. Her mother would more than likely not come home in the morning. She had lied to Spike unsure she wanted to let him stay the whole night. Her mind and her body were still at war on that matter. Her body was telling her to return to bed, wake him up and enjoy having him here while she did. Whatever he woke up in her as wrong as she believed it to be she could not seem to stop it.
She heard the creak of the bed and closed her eyes. She had to decide now if he was staying for the rest of the night before the sun came up and she had no choice but to let him stay here all day. He was walking toward her now and if she knew anything about Spike he was not wearing a stitch of clothing.
"All quiet out there," he asked his hands going to her shoulders. He rubbed her neck with his thumbs, sending thoughts of telling him to leave from her mind with the tension he eased out of her.
"Yeah," she said softly in response to his question. It had been rhetorical, but she felt the need to respond anyway. A hand slid to hers clutching the sheet to her body and tugged it away from her. The need to cover up with the sheet was forgotten as he cupped a breast, stroking the peak to attention with his thumb. She released the sheet and it slid to the floor in a pile of white cotton. On the tip of her tongue was a jibe at him for being unable to get enough. But then she wanted more too so what did that say about her?
"You look beautiful like that, the moon casting light on your body through the blinds."
"Thanks," she said and started to turn to him.
"No, stay like that," he said against her ear. She felt him behind her, hard and ready and she was as ready for him. She bit her lip hating that she felt this way, that he could touch her and make her ready for him.
"Will this work, Spike?"
"It will and I promise you will like it. Trust me, Buffy."
She nodded simply. She could not say those words aloud, could not admit that she trusted Spike, but for tonight she did. Anticipating his entry did nothing to prepare her for the power behind it once he did. Her head fell forward, resting against the windowpane as he thrust into her. Her body responded to him as it had the other times but her mind was still conflicted. There was something horribly wrong with this, with enjoying the things he was doing to her, yet she was powerless to tell him to stop. He felt good against her, inside of her and he made her feel good in every way possible. One thing about this night is that she could never claim having missed out on good orgasms. He had given her several already and despite the inner turmoil she was on the verge of another one. His hand between her legs, stroking her saw to that.
There was a difference to him this time. She had no idea what exactly it was, but she sensed it. She had sensed it in his approach, the fact he had not wanted to be facing her. This time was not about sex, there was more to it though she knew it was not love. Possession. She had no idea where that word had come from, but the word fit. This time was about giving to her yet taking from her as well, possessing her, spoiling her for anyone else. No one else could do the things he had done to her throughout the night over and over again.
"Spike," she called out as another release ripped through her. She hated not being able to look at him, kiss him, watch him as he drew closer to his own release which made no sense since this had nothing to do with love. Yet she craved that closeness, that intimacy, knowing she was pleasing him.
"Shh, love, you're nowhere near done yet."
"I need to touch you. To kiss you." He was kissing her shoulder and she felt his lips curve into a smile, but she refused to retract the statement.
He pulled out of her, his hands at her shoulders prevented her from turning around right away. There was a reason he had wanted her facing away from him, he had changed. He did not give her much of a chance to fight him or to think on what the repercussions of having sex with him while he was in vamp form might be. He lifted her and thrust her back against the window entering her again. Her legs and arms wrapped around him and her mouth found his. Caught up with his being inside of her she forgot until their mouths opened that he was not in human form. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, grazing a fang reminding her she was not just kissing him but having sex with him in vamp form.
"Buffy, if I'd wanted to hurt you I would have with your back to me," he said as she started to pull away. "Let me give this to you, to me, to both of us. Just once, if you don't like it I'll stop."
She had kissed Angel when he was in vampire form and in all honesty he probably could have fed off her if he had wanted to. His soul did not prevent him from feeding off humans, he just chose not to. Spike was still inside of her, but he stood still waiting for her decision. She swallowed hard and one of his hands went to her throat, tracing the length of it as she swallowed a second time. "All I have to do is say stop and you can? And you will stop?"
She looked into his eyes, searching for something. He was right, had he wanted to harm her he had the perfect opportunity when her back was to him. Speechless, unable to verbally give her okay, she tilted her head while placing a hand at the back of his head, encouraging him to her neck. "So help me God if I have to kill you, Spike I'll do it."
"No killing will be necessary, pet," he said.
She could feel him nuzzling, licking and biting her neck. The anticipation was killing her, the way Spike talked this would heighten the experience and though knowing she was crazy to risk it she wanted to feel it and know. He had yet to lie to her that night about whether or not she would enjoy something he did to her or he encouraged her to do.
She cried out, her fingers burrowing into his shoulders as he timed the bite with a deep thrust inside of her. She could not tell where the sounds she was making stopped and the ones he made started. She felt him feeding off of her, felt the ache in her neck where he had punctured yet as he brought her to another release the ache was a pleasing sort of pain. His release came right on top of hers and though he stayed joined with her, both at her neck and between her legs, he was still. He no longer fed and no longer moved inside of her.
"I feel drunk," he whispered when he retracted his fangs from her neck. He changed back into human form and kissed her, fresh blood in his mouth and on his lips.
"Your blood. The blood of a slayer is powerful." He ran his finger along the marks on her neck. "You'll need a bandage I guess."
She slid her legs from around him, placing her feet on the floor and shrugged. "I'm not going to worry about it." She healed fast, it would be fine.
"You mean you're not going to cover it up?"
"Why should I?"
"You want your friends to know you got bit by a vamp?"
She shrugged. "It doesn't really matter."
"You grew some during the evening, is that it? One date with me, one night of shagging me and you no longer care what your little friends think?" He kissed her again. "You know your friend Xander saw us, he is going to guess the identity of the vamp that bit you. And then he is going to wonder why you didn't dust me."
She turned to look out the window, she had not thought on that. She had forgotten Xander had seen them at the Bronze. "So big deal? It's not like I fed off you."
"Not off my blood, no, but you definitely fed off me, Slayer."
She felt her neck and face grow warm and knew she was blushing. "So I'll wear a turtleneck for a few days."
"Now she's ashamed."
"I didn't say that, but you're right they're going to wonder why I didn't dust you. And if they see you."
"You could tell them I got carried away kissing you good night."
She ran her fingertips over the puncture marks on her neck. "That's getting carried away all right, but that would not explain what I've done to you."
"Buffy, pet," he placed his hands on her shoulders again and drew her against him, so her back was against his chest.
"They cannot find out about this, Spike."
"Why the bloody hell not?"
"Tonight was tonight, I don't know what it was but you and I both know it won't happen again."
"Because tomorrow I go back to being the Slayer and you go back to being the Big Bad."
"I don't have to go back to being the Big Bad where you're concerned. I could be the Good Bad," he said with a light laugh.
"This isn't funny, Spike."
"I didn't say it was. I think the problem is you had a good time, and I don't mean the sex either. I think we patrolled well together, we had a good time at the Bronze together, I got jealous once but that was understandable when my date was you, and I think it scares the hell out of you that I can't be categorized neatly. And the good sex doesn't hurt either."
"I can't believe I let you feed off me," she said softly, getting around to the root of why she was so numb regarding the mark. She had let him do it. She should not cover it, she needed to be reminded of how far she had fallen, what she had done with him and let him do.
"That wasn't all that it was and you know it. Look at me and tell me you didn't like it, that it didn't enhance it for you. The pain with the pleasure of your release. Tell me it didn't make you feel more alive."
"I shouldn't have let you, it was wrong."
"If it felt good then it was not wrong, Slayer."
Buffy did not want to think about what was wrong or right about what they had done together during the night. "So are you staying here then? The sun will be up any minute."
"Is that an invitation to stay or a subtle hint that you would like for me to go?"
"It's neither, I was merely telling you that if you were planning on going you're about to the time where you have to go."
"I think I'll stay then."
Buffy bent to pick the sheet up from the floor and walked to her bed. "Close the blinds," she said as she slid into bed. The pillow smelled like Spike and sex, two scents that smelled nice together. She felt him get into the bed beside her, taking the spot by the wall. "I thought men were supposed to protect their women," she teased.
"Only those that need protecting, Slayer. I do not believe you fall into that category." His hand went around her waist.
"I suppose you're right. You're not going to go walking around my house or my room while I'm sleeping, are you?"
"Your house, no. I make no promises about your room, love. If I wake up I can't claim I'll sit in bed and wait for Sleeping Beauty to awaken once more."
"Umm, I suppose you're right. Somehow I don't think your kisses are what the witch had in mind."
"You don't think I'm princely enough then, is that it?"
"Dark prince, maybe." He laughed lightly and Buffy smiled, glad he had not taken offense to her comment. "Pleasant dreams," she said after contemplating just what to say to him. Good night was not appropriate.
"You've given me much fodder to chew on, pet. My dreams I feel shall be pleasant indeed."
Like a glutton for punishment wanting to see just how much more hell he could be subjected to, Angel remained outside of Buffy's house. He should have turned and walked away when he saw the blinds open. He should have averted his gaze when he saw her standing with only a sheet covering her body.
If he had he would not have been subjected to watching as Spike made love to his girl. Damn this friends business to hell, she was his but now he had to share her. It would have been bad enough to have to share her with a man, a human, but to have to share her with Spike was too much. Angel looked at his wristwatch and wished he had not for it only served to point out what Spike could do what Angel could not. The two had been at it for hours and were apparently not finished.
Spike was being risky taking her in front of a window, Angel wondered if Spike knew after all that Angel was there and doing this just to spite him. Buffy did not seem to mind in the least, which is what irked Angel more. Not only that, but she let the vampire feed off her. He could hear Buffy's blood pumping from their time spent together, but he had never been able to taste her. The blood of a slayer was powerful, Spike had tasted two and now, tonight, had tasted his third.
They were finished now, at least he had not been made to watch them go at it for hours in the window. Angel felt his anger and jealousy rise when he saw Spike's finger graze over the place he had bitten. He should be up there, not Spike. It should be Angel loving her all through the night.
He would have a talk with Spike, who had claimed only days ago love for Drusilla. And Buffy had heard him! What was she thinking letting him near enough to touch her? What was she thinking letting him inside of her? Angel supposed he should be glad at least he did not have to worry about Buffy getting pregnant since her choice in partners was Spike. That realization did little to console him however. If it could not be him, he wanted her with a human, in a normal life not with another vampire.
He watched until the sun began its ascent into the sky. He stayed because he needed to be sure that Spike meant her no harm. Angel knew Spike's sexual tastes ran to the darker side, but either he failed to try these things with an innocent like Buffy or she did not mind them. Not once had he heard a sound like anything but pleasure.
He waited as long as he could, expecting that Spike would leave before sunrise himself, but he did not. She was letting him stay the day then. All sorts of insults flew to his mind. Some, like slut, were directed at Buffy. Others, worse ones, were aimed at Spike. If Angel knew Spike at all anymore, he knew that somehow he had prayed on Buffy. He was determined to find out how and get things back the way they were.
He walked from Buffy's as quickly as he could, taking side streets to his mansion without even thinking about the path he was taking. Who was he kidding? He could never put things back the way they were. Did he really expect a girl like Buffy, so passionate, so giving and so willing to love to stay celibate the rest of her life for him? He might have been able to stand by and know she was having sex with someone if he knew she still loved and wanted him but needed it. Someone else did not include Spike, though.
If Buffy ended up dead today, Angel, soul or not, would go after Spike with a vengeance. With dread, Angel had to admit that Spike did not seem to have murder on his mind. He looked at Buffy not as if she were the Slayer but merely a girl.
He had watched them all evening, stayed far enough away that Spike would not pick up on Angel's scent but close enough that he saw them patrol together, kiss outside of the Bronze, dance together and saw Spike rescue Buffy from the college kid with fresh hands. Angel did not blame Spike for that one, he had not liked the look of that guy from his distant spot on the Bronze's second floor.
But Spike had kissed her, right after having been in his vampire form, right there in front of everyone and while she had not returned it she had not exactly put a stop to it either. Was she crazy? Was Spike? Was Angel for getting all worked up over this? Angel had no idea.
He made it back to the mansion with time to spare, locking the front door and ensuring the drapes in the rooms he frequented during the day were securely drawn. He opened his refrigerator and took out a bag of blood, hoping the taste and smell would get his mind off Buffy and the images of her and Spike together.
It worked a little, but even drinking blood made Angel think of Buffy. For a while she had fed him, nursed him back to health and strength. He still was not one hundred percent, but thanks to her he was far better off than he would have been had she turned her back on him. She should have, lord knew he did not deserve her forgiveness.
Angel drained the cup of blood, rinsed it out and made a final walk through of his home before retiring to his room. His final thoughts before succumbing to sleep were that he hoped Spike treated Buffy whenever he left the way she deserved to be treated. Angel knew full well he had hurt her horribly. The words he had said before he left her after they had made love, after he had lost his soul had hurt more than anything physically he could have done to her. He had not had the chance to apologize for those words, he had honestly believed he would have time. It seemed that he had run out of time.
Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com