Punching Through


Mickey M

Rating: NC-17 in a big way

Email: heymickeym@gmail.com

Pairing: Buffy/Spike

Summary: A look into the darker side of sex between Spike and Buffy.

Disclaimer: Not mine, more's the pity.

Warnings: Bloodsports. Fisting. Introspection.

Note:  Spoilers: Through "Wrecked" and beyond :-)

Punching Through
By Mickey M
(c) December 2001

I didn't intend for this.

How is it the saying goes, 'the best laid plans of mice and men'? I suppose 'vamp' could be substituted in there, for either one.

Sex, blood, violence. That's the sum of the 'ship between the Slayer and me.  I'd like more, but she can't give it to me -- or won't, I haven't decided which 'tis -- so I'll take what I can get and be happy she hasn't told me to bugger off altogether.

Tonight we've actually managed to bloody each other; for every bite or scratch I gave her, she gave me back in kind. We look like we've been to war -- and possibly we have, with each other.

Still, she's not told me to leave yet and I'll be damned if I'm gonna leave before that moment comes. It's rare that we have the comfort of her room; more often we come together in the cemetery, rutting like the wild things we are, or else in the safety -- sanctity? -- of my crypt.

I like her bed. It's soft and it smells good, like she does. I like to take her there, because it feels more like...well, less like a furtive encounter in the dark. Which I suppose is really what we have. Two bodies meeting...colliding, more like, with desperation.

Right, then.

So, we're laying there, and I'm enjoyin' the peace and quiet. Little Bit's at a friend's for the night and wherever Red is, I don't much care, just glad she's gone for the night. Give me a night with my girl in a civilized spot.

I have my head on her belly and I'm layin' nearly between her thighs, which is a good place for a bloke to be, and I can smell us. Me mixed with her, overlaid with the sweet reek of sweat and the sweeter scent of blood. I lick at her, lazy-like, trying to taste some of that tantalizing scent, 'cos it's thick on my tongue.

"Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of sheets?" She asks the question almost idly, an off-hand way of telling me she's not pleased about what's gone on, but still not worrying too much about it. Her fingers are in my hair, teasing little bits what're stickin' up funny.

"Do I really care, luv?" She's wet and sticky, her pretty little quim still puffy and swollen. I run one finger down the crease gently and feel her shiver, her heartbeat speeding up a notch. "I'll get you new sheets, all right?"

"That's not the point, Spike." Another shiver when I tease my finger up and down again and I can hear the hitch in her breathing, feel the slight movement as she eases her legs further apart for me.

"Insatiable," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her belly. Her skin is so warm, almost fever-hot, and bein' inside her is like drowning in lava. I press one finger slowly into her, slipping in easily. She's slick and hot inside, and with my ear pressed so close to her I swear I can hear the blood moving faster, sending more and more heat to that deep, wet core of hers. "What's baby want, hmm?" I thrust my finger in and out, just a little faster, and her heartbeat speeds up, keeps pace.

"More," her voice is breathless now; it takes so little to keep her going once I get her started. Thank whoever for vampiric lasting power; it's all I can do to keep up. Not that I'm complainin'.

"More, eh?" I add a second finger, scooting lower on the bed. She spreads her legs wider, lifting the one over my shoulders to give me more room.  Layin' there like that, listenin' to her heart and smelling hot blood so close makes me want to dive in and stay there. Never come out. I don't want to just shag 'er, I want to...consume her. Be consumed. Be absorbed into her. She worries about being consumed by me, but if she paid attention to half what I say, she'd know she's the one with the power between us. I wasn't lying when I said she has a willing slave. All she has to do is accept it. Give into it.

With her thighs nearly around my ears I can almost feel the rushing of blood just below the surface. Femoral artery, cradling me, holding me close.  My face changes, my demon rising as hunger and lust rise. I add a third finger, fucking her faster, listening to the increasing thud of her heart, to the rise and fall in the pitch of her cries. Hard to be this close and not taste and she shudders when one of my fangs scrapes along the thin skin of her inner thigh, but she doesn't push me away. Instead those hot little hands pull at my hair, moving my head toward her center, to the swollen little clit standing out from between slick, swollen lips.

"Please..." She arches against my fingers, pushing down on me to pull them deeper into her, soft moans rising around us. "More, please...harder..."

Christ, yes. Four fingers, easing in until she bucks upward, driving herself down. Impaling herself. Hot little Slayer, so hot to be filled, to be fucked. I say the words aloud, muttering them against her thigh, against her pussy, feeling her shudders as they register. She likes dirty talk, gets 'er all hot and bothered, and she's so hot right now she's fairly sizzling against me.

I want to feed so bad, but not on her blood this time. On her lust. On the heat rising off her. The scent of wickedness, of sex, is thick and strong in my nose, my mouth, on my tongue. I lower my head and lap at her, tongue teasing at slick folds, at the hard little clit there. I worry it with my teeth, my demon tucked safely back inside for the moment, only blunt teeth to nip and taste her. She's fucking herself on four of my fingers, friggin' me for all she's worth while I lick and suck and try to devour her, try to consume enough of her to lose myself.

There's an almost desperate air about the way she's moving against me and I wonder how far she wants this to go, how much she'll take. I rise up enough to see her, hands gripping her headboard as she moves and twists against the bed. Her body is sheened in sweat, glistening in the moonlight. Her nipples are tight and swollen from earlier bites, and I can see the darkness shadowed in the moonlight, dried streaks of blood where I bit a little too hard, though I couldn't regret it since she wrung me dry with her orgasm afterward.

"Want it all, pet?" I still my hand, clamp my other down on her hips. She gives a low, hoarse cry and her eyes, when they open, are dilated, hungry, something primal lurking there. I move my fingers gently, watching her. "I can give it to you."

"Yessss--" It's a hiss, low and sibilant, and the hunger rises within me again, watching dark need rise in her.

"Right, then. Hang on, baby." I don't necessarily mean the headboard and she doesn't even blink, though I can feel her loosening under me, around me, her body relaxing though quivers still run through her, a fine tremor that feels like buzzing against me.

I know we've crossed the kink line for what Buffy's done. I know she and Angel didn't do anything beyond one night, and I doubt soldier-boy would've considered it. But Buffy is mine now, and I'm going to initiate her into that darker side of sex. The gleaming, brilliant, beautiful, darker side. The place where people like her an' me live. Where we love.

She's tight, but not too tight; I've already stretched her, and she's beyond wet. Soaked. Flooded. Silky, slippery fluid coats my hand and wrist as I turn my fingers inside her, teasing at the soft, hot walls, listening to her cries and gasps as we begin the rhythm again. I shift so I can reach better, then fold my thumb into my palm and reach inward slowly, my mouth teasing at the outer parts of her sex.

"Oh, god..." Her voice is hoarse, lust and need roughening it. She pants around the words, groans as she works herself down onto me, her body swallowing my hand like a slick, greedy mouth. I'm into her beyond my wrist now, turning gently as she fucks herself, riding my fist like she might my cock. I cant up on one shoulder, shuddering when I see her holding on tight to the headboard, eyes squeezed shut as she moves, writhing and wriggling like a snake. Droplets of sweat gleam between her breasts, edging downward slowly. "Bite...bite me, Spike...please...."

If I had clothes on, I'd've creamed my jeans. My face aches, changes, and everything inside me twitches at the smell of blood, of sex. I nuzzle her leg and push it upward with my free hand as I drive my fist deeper inside her, fangs sinking into tender skin at the same time.

Her scream echoes through my ears, pleasure and pain mingling as I pump harder, faster, fingers moving deep inside her. Her orgasm echoes through my body as my bones are squeezed, nearly crushed inside her as strong muscles contract over and over around me. I come at the taste of her blood, groaning into her thigh as my cock spasms all on its own, only the barest pressure and friction from where I'm lying on the bed. My demon subsides, hungers sated all around.

When she's done spasming around me I shift to pull out, groaning when she contracts again, her cries turning to mewls and whimpers as we ride out another orgasm together. I lick at the puncture marks I left on her thigh as I free myself completely, and wonder at the link between us, the tenderness we find in violence, the love we find in lust.

Questions for another day, another time, when I'm not surfeited on blood and sex, and Buffy.

She moves under me, curling in slightly on herself as her body continues to contract and spasm, and I can't stop the satisfied grin that curls my mouth as I move up and curl around her. I hold her through the tiny orgasms still shaking her, then kiss her neck, holding her tight as she drifts off to sleep, obviously feeling safe enough in my arms to do so.

"I love you, Slayer."

She might not love me yet...but it's there.  And one of these days she'll see it. It'll probably be a lot like tonight, actually, a combination of slow and easy, then just punching my way in.


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