Willow had curled up on Spike's bed and gone to sleep, and now Buffy was stuck twiddling her thumbs until that night. It was not as if she wasn't tired, she had been awake the entire day before and that night. It was that every time she closed her eyes she'd see Spike in all his male glory embedded behind her eyelids.
With a sigh, she got up and decided to snoop around the room. She and Willow had talked for a little while longer, mostly about sex and guilt-free vampires, and she could hardly believe that the red head had changed so much. This was the girl who was afraid to talk to boys two years ago, whose first boyfriend was a guitar playing werewolf with ever-changing hair colors. Now, she was a dominatrix pseudo-vampire with a homicidal vampire for a mate.
Buffy poked through the closet, seeing Spike's duster and a lot of empty hangers. She fingered the soft leather, aged and well-worn, and grinned. The blond vampire never went anywhere without it, like an American Express card, even when it was ninety degrees outside. She briefly wondered how Willow managed to get him out of the black jeans and t-shirt and into the clothes he'd been wearing earlier, then realized she knew exactly how the hacker had done it and blushed. *Willow in a threesome, will wonders never cease?* she asked herself. *Then again, this is the Hellmouth.*
She closed the sliding closet door, then turned and looked around. She walked over to the foot of the bed where a chest was located and kneeled in front of it. Pushing up the lid, her eyes widened as she saw the contents. She reached inside and pulled out a ball gag, staring at it in fascination. She set it aside and began to dig through the chest, examining each of the objects she found. Some of them she knew about, others she wouldn't know what to do with if her life depended on it.
Then, near the very bottom in a clear plastic case, she saw it. She glanced up at the bed where the shackles still lay from when Willow zapped them into her hand, then back at the case. A wicked, wicked smile spread slowly across her face.
"Hello, pet," Spike greeted Buffy as he returned to the bedroom a short while after she'd finished her preparations.
"Have fun?" Buffy asked innocently, evil smile barely hidden.
He arched a brow at her question. "Loads. I'm going to take Red back to her room. Do you need anything?"
"Nope," she shook her head. "I've got everything I need right here."
Spike was wary of her too cheerful tone as he picked Willow up. "Be right back," he told her, then headed out of the room. Now that his initial...problem...was gone, he should be able to survive the day with the Slayer. He more than likely would be aroused most of it, but he wouldn't be straining his control in order not to screw her into unconsciousness. At least, he hoped not.
Angelus met him at the door and he passed the sleeping Willow to him. The soft expression on his sire's face when he gazed down at her made Spike envious. It had been too long since someone looked at him like that and what seemed like equally as long since he'd had reason to look at someone like that. Which was one of the reasons as to why he'd accepted Willow's invitation to visit. Loneliness was not something he enjoyed and, if he was honest with himself, he really missed the closeness he'd once had with his sire.
Shaking off his thoughts, he tread barefoot back to his room over the hard hallway floor, then paused with his hand on the knob. He had taken a brief shower after his tete a tete with Angelus before he'd retrieved Willow, so he had no excuse not to enter the room. "Come on, mate, it's only the Slayer," he said quietly to himself. "It's only the woman who can make your undead heart pound in your chest."
Spike took a deep, unneeded breath, then opened the door and walked inside. He frowned when he didn't see Buffy sitting on the bed where she had been, nor was she sitting on the chair he broke. "Slayer?" He took another step forward, letting go of the door knob.
And he was promptly attacked.
Buffy had been in the not too obvious spot behind the door. Without a noise, she pounced on him from behind, the door swinging shut in punctuation as they both hit the floor. She snapped one side of the shackles on his wrist before he could do anything. Now she only needed to get the other one on.
Spike felt the cold metal around his wrist and swore silently. He quickly put his hands under him and pushed up, trying to knock the Slayer off of his back. She did get off his back, but not the way he had hoped. With an expert move, she pushed herself into a small jump over his shoulders so she landed facing him in a crouch. She gave him a naughty smile and snapped the other shackle on him before he could comprehend that he was in deep shit.
"Hi," Buffy said cheerfully, grabbing the chain that was linked between the shackles. She stood and yanked up with all her strength, flipping him over her and onto the bed in a move that defied logical physics. But once a Slayer had set her mind to something, there was no stopping her.
She scrambled up onto the bed while he was still stunned from the move and grabbed the chain again. Swinging him around, she latched the chain from the ring on the wall to the shackles then pulled, hoisting his arms above his head until he could go no further. Then, she hooked the restraint so he was now stuck, just as she wanted him to be.
"Slayer, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Spike finally managed to find his voice and ask. He had been so surprised by her that his normal reactions refused to kick in, leaving him at her mercy. Not that he minded being at her mercy, but he wasn't about to tell her that.
"You said that you would enjoy being tortured until you begged," Buffy replied wickedly. "I'm going to make you beg."
His eyes were huge, as was now another part of his anatomy, because of her words. *Oh fuck,* he thought as she climbed off the bed and picked something up off of the desk. She held it behind her as she returned and straddled him. "I don't beg," he ground out.
"My, my, my," Buffy said as she settled down onto his lap, feeling his hard on beneath her. "Something is certainly interested." She started to blush, despite her cool attitude. *I'm insane. I'm worse than Drusilla,* she thought. *But this is too good to pass up.*
"Never gonna happen, Slayer," Spike told her, setting his jaw.
"So sure of that, are you?" she said, arching her brow. She brought the object from behind her back and brushed the tip under her chin.
Spike thought that he could take anything she dished out, having played this game for over a century. But the sight of the white object in her hand sent panic down his spine. *Oh fuck,* he thought again. *Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.*
"It's so nice of you to not be wearing a shirt," Buffy said, reaching her arm out and touching the tip to the object to his wrist. "That will make doing this that much easier." Slowly, she ran it down the inside of his arm, swirling it around the area just above his inner elbow, then continuing her way straight down the side of his body, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.
Spike's teeth were clenched together as he tried not to wiggle. His hands were curled around the chain, the metal biting into his palms as she brought her arm back up to touch the tip to his other wrist. She repeated her actions on that side and his eyes rolled up slightly as he forced himself not to react. He could survive hours of pain, torture and forced sexual encounters in the game of dominance. But this was another story entirely.
He was very, very ticklish.
And she had a feather.
Buffy smirked at him as she twirled the feather over his chest and down his abdomen. Shifting back slightly, she ran it along the waistband of his jeans, watching his muscles quiver. Raising her eyes as she repeated the action, she saw that he was biting his lip and his eyes were squeezed shut. She snickered. "Problems, Spike?"
"No," Spike growled, his body tense.
"I guess I'm not doing this right, then," Buffy said coyly.
His eyes popped open at her words and watched as she climbed off of his lap. She gave him an innocent smile and he grew more wary of her. She'd been torturing him with the feather for a bit now and, so far, he'd managed not to squirm too much, nor let out a sound. But the wicked gleam in her eye as she stood next to the bed made him wish he'd stayed in Brazil.
Suddenly, her hand shot out and grabbed his pants leg, pulling it towards her until it was hanging straight off the bed. *Oh FUCK,* he thought as he realized her intent. He bent his other knee and twisted his body, trying to kick her away as she straddled the leg backwards, clamping it between her thighs.
"Beg me to stop, Spike, and I will," Buffy said over her shoulder, ignoring the kicks he was managing to hit her with. He tried to shake her off the leg she was straddling, but she had a firm hold on it. When he didn't answer, she grabbed his ankle, then leaned forward slightly to run the feather along the bottom of his foot.
"Aaahhhh," Spike let out a strangled cry, bucking her with all he could. He yanked on the chain holding him prisoner, trying to break it or pull himself away, to no avail.
Buffy giggled, twirling the end of the feather over his sole. She clamped her thighs harder around his leg, tightened her grip on his ankle as he tried to get her away from his foot. This only made her hold on harder.
She ran the feather between his toes, eliciting another choked off yell from him. "Beg," she said, brushing it over the top of his foot, down to his ankle then back up the bottom of his sole.
"Nevaaaaahh," Spike tried to say, mortified that it came out as another scream. He was trying to get his wrists out of the shackles, twisting and pulling against the metal. It cut into his skin, blood starting to drip down his arms as he fought against her.
She suddenly released his leg and his knees shot up to his chest, his feet pushing at the blankets on the bed. He tried to burrow them into the covers as she playfully sauntered to the other side of the bed. "You only have to beg me, Spike," she sang.
Spike glared at her, tears from the combination of pain and laughter from her actions on his cheeks. Tickling was the worst form of torture, because it was hard for the body to decipher whether it was a good feeling or not. She chuckled at him, tucking the feather into her hair like an Indian of the old west.
Her hand shot out and grabbed material of his jeans, yanking his other leg towards her. He began to kick viscously, fighting her as much as possible without making a sound. He got a good shot on her jaw and she gave him a deadly look. This did not bode well for the peroxide blond vampire.
She latched onto his leg and pulled him halfway off the bed, so his arms were straining against the shackles. She swung around and straddled both of his legs, pushing them both together with her thighs so one was over the other. She grabbed his ankle, then the feather out of her hair. Without a word, she lightly ran it over his foot, despite wanting to do it harder. She knew from experience that the gentler the touch, the more it tickled. Since she had access to both feet, she used it to her advantage.
Spike couldn't take it any more, especially now that she had his legs prisoner and was using the feather on both feet. "Stop, stop, stop," he begged in a hoarse voice, blood pouring from the cuts on his wrists as he continued to try to pull his hands through the restraints.
"What was that?" Buffy asked, not stopping.
"STOP!" Spike yelled.
She looked over her shoulder at him. "You didn't say the magick word. Can't stop until you say it," she said in a little girl's voice.
"Please stop. No more, please, please, please," he repeated.
"Go on," Buffy said, the feeling of exhilaration and power flowing over her.
"Slayer, please, no more tickling," Spike begged in a tight, panicky voice. "I'm begging you, I'm at your mercy, I'll do anything, just fucking stop! Buffy, please."
"Tsk. Such language," she teased, running the feather one final time over both feet. "But, since you begged so nicely..." She swung off of his legs and laughed when they flew up to his chest, his feet once again burrowing under the blankets. Then she saw the blood on his arms and gasped.
Dropping the feather, she scrambled up on the bed and was scared to see him move rapidly to the other side of the bed as far away from her as the chain allowed. Maybe what she had done wasn't such a good idea after all. "Spike, you're hurt," she said, her fingers working at the chain.
Spike looked up at his wrists. "Oh," he said. "I didn't notice."
Buffy paused and stared down at him. "What do you mean, you didn't notice? You're bleeding!"
"Yeah, well, someone was fucking tickling me," he replied, glaring at her.
"But I thought you said that-that..." She sunk down on her heels next to him.
He caught onto what she was trying to say. "Cor, luv, you did perfectly," he told her. At her surprised look, he chuckled. "I never beg. Ever."
"So, I, uh, did good?" Buffy asked, a small puzzled frown on her face.
"Slayer, right now if you told me to dress up like Mary Poppins and sing I would, just so you won't tickle me again," he answered.
Buffy laughed at the image that sprang to her mind. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Spike replied.
"Cool," she said, then frowned again. "But now what do I do?"
"You're the one who's got me trussed up, so I'd have to say whatever you bloody want," he said.
A new picture formed in her thoughts and she started to blush, her eyes darting over his half naked body. She could almost hear Willow telling her to carpe Spike and carpe him good. Deciding to throw caution and inhibitions to the wind, she grabbed his belt loop and pulled him back fully onto the bed, then straddled his hips. Putting her hands on both sides of him, she bent forward and captured his surprised mouth with hers.
*Oh fuck,* Spike thought, then lost himself in the kiss.
Buffy could feel his hardness under her as their tongues danced together. She rubbed against him experimentally and got a moan and a slight arching of his hips for her efforts. Emboldened, she did it again, this time using her legs to support her so she could run her hands over his bare skin. She broke away from his mouth to kiss down his neck, licking and nipping at the skin.
Spike groaned unabashedly as her tongue darted into the hollow of his throat, his arms pulling at the restraints again. He wanted to so badly wrap his arms around her and hold her close. "Slayer," he groaned as she started down his chest.
"That'd be me," she teased, her hot breath sending chills down his spine as it caressed his skin. She reached his abdomen and nipped along the waistband of his jeans, her body having moved down between his denim clad legs.
When he felt her fingers work at the fastenings, he let out a long, aroused growl, causing her to look up at him with an arched brow. He moved his hips as he stared down at her, his blue eyes reflecting his desire for her. Her lips quirked and she teased him by running the back of her fingers under the jeans, but avoiding the erection straining against the material.
"Shut your eyes," Buffy instructed. She waited until he complied before pulling his jeans off his body. She doubted she could do what she wanted to do with him staring at her with the fire behind his eyes. She was already flushed red from both arousal and her daringness to do what she wanted with him. This was her mortal enemy, after all, that she was about to do things that she never tried with anyone else.
Her eyes widened as she saw all of him again and she knew she'd never be able to sleep now. He was hard and ready for her, his shaft laying against the dark hair that surrounded it. She remembered back to the night on the beach after prom when she'd drunk too much tequila and she discovered that he neither wore boxers or briefs. ‘Now I know why he's called ‘Spike'‘ she remembered saying with drunken laughter. And what a true statement that was.
Tentatively, she touched him and was rewarded with a hiss and his cock jumping on its own. Her eyes darted to his face and she was relived to see his lids still shut. Gearing herself up, she wrapped her hand around him, her thumb brushing over the softness of the skin. He growled again, but this time she took it as a good sign and continued exploring.
*Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,* Spike was chanting in his mind. That's all he could do besides grip the chain holding him prisoner with both hands, not caring that the metal was digging into his palms. Her hand caressed him, starting to move slowly up and down, sending him into another litany of curses. *Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...*
Buffy saw the pre-cum form on the tip of his shaft and got curious. She moved forward and licked it off, causing him to buck his hips and whimper slightly. The taste was salty, not the best thing she'd ever tasted, but by no means awful. She leaned forward and licked him again, eliciting the same reaction. Wondering what he would do, she slid her mouth around the head, taking him in and sucking slightly.
*Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!* Spike's chanting became exclamations as her hot mouth surrounded his cock. He thrust his hips towards her in little jerks, wanting more. Forget Mary Poppins, he'd do the Queen Mother in public if Buffy would continue with her ministrations. He felt her tongue rub along the sensitive spot right under the head and his eyes rolled back under his lids. *Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!*
Buffy felt empowered by his reaction. However, the burning between her legs wanted her to do something else as she squeezed her thighs together, clenching her muscles. She tried to think of how it would feel to have him buried deep within her and a shock flew through her body, making her jerk. Her panties were soaking, wetting the insides of her legs as she clamped them together.
*Alright, Slayer,* she told herself as she released his cock completely. *Time to take what you want since he's helpless to protest.* She climbed off the bed and watched him as his face formed a frown. When it looked as though he was going to open his eyes, she spoke up, "Eyes closed."
Spike's mind was racing, wondering what she was doing. When her hot mouth and hand left him, he almost cried out in protest, but caught himself before he did. He could smell her arousal, making him ache for her even more than her words earlier that morning had done. He tugged at his shackles again, wanting to be free. He felt the bed shift again and he froze, wondering what she was going to do next. He felt her hand grasp him again, stroking him, and he gave into the sensation with a low growl of pleasure.
Buffy poised herself above his hard shaft, moving her hand up and down as she dipped her fingers from her other hand into her pussy. Her muscles clamped around the digits and she gasped as she began to thrust in and out a few times, making sure that she was really ready to continue. He growled and it sent a shiver down her spine. Stopping her movements with her hands, she spread her entry and sunk down slowly on his cock.
*FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK,* Spike shouted in his head as her fire engulfed him. His eyes shot open, changing to yellow uncontrollably, as she fully sheathed him inside of her. He let out a loud snarl, bucking up into her. Her eyes shot to his face and their gazes met and held. Her muscles clenched around him suddenly and he jerked against the chains, yanking on his wrists until the blood flowed freely.
Buffy was panicked at first when their eyes met, yellow versus hazel, but his reaction to her actions sent a thrill through her. He was trying desperately to free himself, making her heart accelerate even more. An evil thought crossed her mind and she put a hand on the middle of his chest, stopping him. "Spike, do you want me to undo the shackles?" she asked.
"Yes," he growled.
"Beg me," she said, repeating her words from just a short time ago. She rocked against him, her eyes rolling up as pleasure coursed through her from that simple action.
When she moved against him, Spike lost all compunction of thinking he was a master vampire. He'd never felt anything so hot and tight in his long life, and in all his fantasies about the Slayer were nothing compared to feeling her surround him with her softness. So, he did what he swore he wouldn't do again after she'd tickled him. He begged.
Buffy listened to his begging with a smile on her face. She rocked against him again and his begging took on a shrill tone, his feet kicking on the mattress, his arms jerking against the restraints. *This is kinda fun,* she thought before she took pity on him. She had to raise up until he was almost out of her to undo the shackles. She got one of his wrists free and grimaced at the blood coating it as he lowered his arm. He did not move, however, as she expected him to do while she worked on the other side.
"I'm sorry," she murmured as he lowered his other bloody wrist. "I'll go get some bandaaaaaiii-"
Spike flipped them both abruptly, driving his cock fully into her as his lips smashed down on hers. He began driving in and out of her, his senses haywire, as he plundered mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her as her legs moved around his waist. He pushed one of his arms under her, lifting her hips higher so he could plunge even deeper into her hot core.
She tore her mouth from his with a cry, her lips cutting across his fangs as her body was overwhelmed by the new sensations. She clung to him as he thrust in and out of her with a fury, his pelvis smashing up against hers, hitting her clit. She felt a building sensation like never before and when she suddenly orgasm, she screamed out his name so loudly it echoed in the room and out into the hall. "SSSPPPPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE!"
He growled primitively and equally as loud in response, burying his fangs in her neck. He thrust in hard jerks into her before he pushed up with his toes until he could go into her no further while shockwaves flew through him as he climaxed. He sucked greedily on the blood flowing from her neck, the sheer sweetness and power increasing the intensity of his orgasm.
Spike finally collapsed upon her and she held him loosely in her limp arms. She felt him remove his fangs and began to lap at the blood from the twin puncture wounds like a big cat. She idly ran her fingers over the back of his hair as she slowly came down.
Then, he started to purr.
Buffy's eyes grew round at the low, rumbling sound that emanated from him. She'd heard this sound twice before from Angel, once during the research cum sleepover party and the other time at the graduation party. The tone was slightly different because they were two different vampires, but other than that, there was no mistaking it for anything but a purr. To top it all off, hearing it this close and to be the cause of it gave her an undescribable feeling in her heart.
He nuzzled her neck, the ridges from his true face brushing against her jaw. "Spike, time to move," she said softly, pushing at his shoulders because he was getting heavy. He moved out of her and to her side without leaving her neck. One arm lay across her stomach, holding her to his side in a possessive manner. She grabbed the edge of the blanket and flipped it over her and part of him.
It was just in time, too, because Willow knocked once and entered the room without invitation. "Are you guys ok? I heard screa-" Her eyes widened as she heard the purr. "-ming. Uh, never mind."
"Wait, Will?" Buffy called out to her friend before the hacker could go. "What does this mean? The purring. You made Angel do it, but I never really understood how or why."
Willow shut the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed, the blond vampire oblivious to her presence. "He's showing his love and affection for you, Buffy," she explained. "As you can tell, he doesn't even care that I'm here. It's possible that he might know if Angelus or another male was nearby and growl at them, claiming you as his, but mostly he'll just purr until he falls asleep or you manage to get his attention."
"Um, will he do this every time we...er, we..."
"Hump like bunnies?" Willow finished with a grin. Buffy blushed. "Not every time. The more emotional the mating, the more likely he'll do it. Although, if you decide to go after him and dominate him, he will do it other times than just after sex. Sometimes, when Angelus and I are alone and I make him sit at my feet, he'll lay his head against my knees and purr."
"So basically we don't have vampires, we have cats," Buffy said.
"Yup. Great big sexy cats," the red head replied. She noticed Spike's bloody wrist up near his head on the opposite side of the bed and arched her brow. "What did you do to him?"
"I think it's kind of obvious, Will," Buffy said.
"No, not that," Willow said, rolling her eyes. "I meant, why is his wrist all bloody? Did you use the shackles on him?" The second question was punctuated with an excited bounce.
"Excited much?" Buffy asked. Willow nodded her head in affirmation, causing the Slayer to chuckle. "Yes, I did."
"Did you use the riding crop?"
"No, something much worse," she replied. "And I can't believe I'm talking to my best friend while I'm naked with an equally naked, purring vampire tracing patterns in the blood on my neck from where he bit me."
"Life on the Hellmouth," Willow summed up. She smiled at her friend, then stood. "I'll leave you two alone now. The last stall in the bathroom is a ‘hidden stall' which you can use, just be sure to take him with as a lookout."
"Thanks," Buffy said.
Willow nodded and started for the door when she stepped on something with her bare foot. Bending over, she picked up the object and twirled it between her fingers, giving Buffy a questioning look. "A feather?"
"I told you it was much worse," Buffy replied.
The red head looked at the feather, then over at the blond vampire, then back at the feather. With an impish grin to the Slayer, she turned and left the bedroom.
With the feather.