All About Spike

Chapter: 1  2  3  4

The Games We Play
By Mezz

Chapter 2

She is still lying boneless in my arms. It's moments like these that I want to store away forever. I have the Slayer, my Slayer tied to my bed and she's happy. When she runs, and I know she will, I want to be able to pull this memory out and savor it.

"Mmhmm." I've rendered her speechless. For someone who has an opinion, usually one that is at odds with mine, it is a real coup that I've made her incapable of coherent speech. I am good.

There is so much that I want to teach her. I can see her desire shimmering beneath her skin. She wants to learn, but she's still afraid. Tonight was a perfect example. Of all the reactions, this was the one I least expected. She had been understandably nervous when I first proposed the handcuffs, but she took to it like a cat to cream. So her reaction had thrown me tonight.

The depth of her fear frightened me. I wasn't sure if it was me or something else. I hope it wasn't me. I know I've spent several years trying to instill fear in her. But now, I just want her to know that being in my arms is the one truly safe place for her. My mum always said that you reap what you sow. I just hope that this won't turn around on me one day.

But now, at this moment, she's happy. She's relaxed and languid. I think it's time. "So are you ready for more?"

"What did you have in mind?" Her voice is almost coy. It makes me smile.

I reached back and grabbed another scarf. I rolled it up and held it in front of her. "I want to blindfold you." I nuzzle the skin beneath her ear. "I promise you'll enjoy it."

She held herself still for a moment, and then relaxed against me. "You told me I'd like what we just did and you were right. I'll give it a try."

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. I was afraid she'd say no. She's always surprising me. I held the scarf to her eyes and tied it snugly. She was tense at first, accustoming herself to her loss of sight.

I gently bit her earlobe. "You'll find that your other senses come alive when you can't see."

"And you know this how?" she asked archly.

"Hush pet. There's only you and me here."

I dance my fingers across her skin, soft teasing touches. Her head drops back and she whimpers softly.

I know I'm a pathetic excuse for a demon. I know the other nasties out there ridicule me, but if they could see what I see, they'd understand. Angel understands. There's not much that I'm thankful for, but the happiness clause tops my list.

I reach for another scarf and let it spill through my fingers. I drag it across her shoulders and neck and down her arms. "Your skin is like this scarf, so soft yet resilient." Her breath catches. A beautiful sound. I caused it. Smugness fills me.

It is this combination that draws me. So much strength and softness combined in such a small and seemingly vulnerable form. There are days that I lie awake, wondering what sort of disaster could befall her. Car accident, especially the way she drives. Apocalypse. Natural disease. Someone or something finally having that one good day. I hate that I can't stand between her and the world. And I know if I were to try, she would not be here with me now.

Is it worth it? This pleasure that will end all too soon. She is mortal. She is a slayer. Like she says, she has an expiration date. I lived through her death once. I don't want to repeat the experience, but chances are I will.

Shakespeare once said that it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I'm still not certain if I agree with him.

I let the scarf fall over her chest, allowing it to brush lightly over her nipples. She lifts her head and releases another small cry. I put my arms on either side of her and pull the scarf taut. I rub it horizontally across her nipples. They harden even more.

She's moaning now, pushing her chest forward for more friction. "Spike, please." I am nothing if not a gentleman, so I rub harder. Her head is swaying back and forth. The blindfold is freeing her. I thought it would.

I let one end of the scarf fall, trailing it lightly across her quim. She stills in anticipation. I reach between her legs and grab the loose end. I pull it slowly and softly through her legs, the silk gliding against her skin. She moans even louder. I pull it tauter and increase the friction. Her head falls back.

I touch her through the silk. I stroke front to back, back to front. She is so wet, so swollen. Her body is begging me to touch her. I tell her this and she squirms and wriggles and pushes down on my hand.

Her moans have changed in quality. They've risen an octave and they're more breathy. I love listening to her. She is a symphony of noises. I touch her in one place, and she groans. In another, she purrs. I wonder if this is how Beethoven felt every time he stood before his piano, knowing that his fingers would elicit such beautiful music. She is my instrument, her skin my keyboard, her voice my song. She is my ninth, my ode to joy.

Of course, half the time she opens her mouth, it is to disagree with me. But at moments like this, it's bliss.

I press harder. Her body is begging me for release. I can feel her muscles tense in anticipation of her orgasm. I find it amazing that I have grown so close to her that I can recognize this. It is a dream, one that I never thought would see reality. But we are here now, and I am touching her, caressing her. And she is responding to me. The pleasure is sublime.

But at heart, I am still a demon. I pull the scarf and my hand away. "No Spike. Please don't stop." She is begging, pleading with me to give her pleasure. It is a fantastically unreal dream and I wish to never wake up.

I bring the scarf to her nose. "Smell love. This is how you smell to me. So beautiful. So ripe and luscious." I see her nostrils flare. I take in a deep breath that she can hear.

"Mmm. Some say wine is the nectar of the gods. For others, it's beer. For me, it's you. I could lap and drink you forever and never feel sated."

My words are having an effect on her. Her ass is pushing at me and I am pushing back. I want in her so badly. I wanted to draw this out further, but I don't think I can. I need to feel her around me, surrounding me.

"Please Spike."

"Please what love?"

"I need you inside me?" She says it tentatively, more of a question than a statement.

My beautiful kitty has read my mind and perhaps I can push for a bit more. "Inside you where love?"

She squirms against me. "You know where." I knew. Of course I knew. But I needed her to say it. If we are to move forward, then I need to break down all of her inhibitions.

"The way I see it pet, there are three places where I can put it. I need to know which one."

I could see the blush rising through her skin. My poor kitty. No one but me has done right by her. She's trying to speak, trying to make the words come out, but she's having difficulty. I decide to help her.

I run my finger down her spine, to the rosy aperture of her ass. "Do you want me here?" She shakes her head no. I move my hand lower and capture a bit of juice on my finger. I bring it to her closed lips. I trace them with my finger. I can tell she doesn't want to let me in, but I gently pry her lips apart. Her tongue darts out to lick my finger. One little lick, then another. Soon she is sucking on the entire length of my finger. It's almost too much for me. I grind against her and she moans. "Do you want me there?" Again she shakes her head no.

My hand moves down, across one nipple, down the length of her torso, through her pubic hair and into her quim. A strangled noise emerges from her. "Is this where you want me?" She nods her head vigorously. "You still have to tell me." I can sense her struggling. The blush still hasn't faded. "You can say it love. Say it for me."

"I don't…" her voice tapered off and she groaned, this time in frustration.

"You don't know what to call it?" She nods. My beautiful slayer. At times she seems more Victorian than I ever was. "You can call it anything you want. Quim, pussy, cunt, box, anything at all."

"My quim." It's whispered, almost as if it is a bad word.

"Good kitty." I kiss her neck. She's ultra sensitive there. "Now tell me. What do you want in your quim?"

Another mewl of frustration. "You. I want you in my quim." Her voice is louder, more strident.

"Which part of me do you want? " She pulls in anger at her bonds and I laugh. "There are so many parts love.” I lower my voice to a seductive purr. “Tell me my kitty. Which part of me do you want in your quim? My tongue?” I lick the back of her neck. She shudders. “Or maybe my hand." I pinch her clit. She gasps. “Or perhaps it’s my cock you want.” I thrust against her. Her head falls back and she groans.

"I want your cock in my quim now!"

"Ask and you shall receive." I lean forward and push her arms lower along the post. It's an uncomfortable position for her, but at this point I really don't care. She grabs onto the post for balance. I tilt her hips back towards me, and run my cock along the outer edges, barely brushing her clit. She pushes back, trying to envelop me.

I've reached my limit. I can't take anymore. I need to be in her now. I grab her hips and shove into her hard. She screams. God I love to hear her scream, knowing I'm the cause. I hold myself still, fearful that if I move, I'll lose it and we still have a ways to go. She is squirming, her inner muscles flexing around my cock. Thank god for slayer muscles.

I pull out slowly. Almost all the way out. Then in again, hard, harder than before. I hold myself still again.

"Please Spike."

"Please what love?"

"Fast. Fuck me faster."

I love this girl. I start moving, in and out. My pace grows faster, more erratic. She is so hot. Her warmth explodes around me. I feel myself losing control. I want to fuck her. Fuck her into the bed, the floor, through the earth, all the way through to fucking China.

She's moaning and wriggling. But I can see she's not quite there yet. "Do you want me to touch you anywhere else?"

She nods. "Please my br…my tits." What a woman! I reach a hand around her and squeeze her tit. She shoves back at me.

"Anywhere else?" My voice is a rough whisper.

She nods again. "Yes. I want you to touch my…my clit."

"Lovely, lovely kitty," I murmur over and over. My other hand reaches between her legs and I clasp her clit between my thumb and forefinger. Her cries go up an octave. I can feel her muscles tensing. She's so close. I'm even closer. I thrust harder. Harder and faster. Thank god for vampiric flexibility, endurance and balance.

A stream of words comes from her mouth. "Yesyespleaseohgodyesmore." I'm pretty much the same. "Yesbabysqueezemeyesmydarlingmykittymylove."

At last, oh thank god, at last she comes, screaming my name, her muscles convulsing around my cock. I shove into her once, twice, and then I'm coming. "Buffy!" The orgasm rips through me in seemingly never ending spasms. My muscles twitch, my cock continues to jump. She's gasping, pulling ragged breaths into her lungs. So am I.

"Oh my God." She whispers it like a curse or a prayer. I'm not sure which. I pull out of her gently, her muscles reflexively clutching at me. Aftershocks of pleasure reverberate throughout my body.

I sit back on my heels, stunned into immobility. That was fucking incredible. I honestly don't think I've ever come that hard in my life. And that's saying a lot after a century of fucking.

"Umm, Spike." I look down at her. She's still clutching the post for support. A part of me wishes that I could leave her there forever so that I could take my pleasure of her anytime. The more rational part of my brain reminds me that she would eventually break free and that if I ever want a repeat performance anytime soon, I'd better untie her now.

I run my hands along her back, up through her hair, and I tug the blindfold loose. I move the hair from the back of her neck and kiss her gently. "My lovely kitty. You are incredible." Another kiss. "Lovely." Yet another. "Perfect."

I crawl to her side and untie the scarf from the post. I gather her hands in mine. She looks away. Her blush is back. I'm too content to mind.

I untie the scarf at her wrists and gently rub the redness away. I can sense her withdrawing from me. She's pulling away from me, back into her Buffy shell. A part of me is bothered by this. Another reminds me that this is all new to her and that I shouldn't expect too much too soon. I hate that voice.

I press a kiss into each palm. Startled, she looks directly at me. "Spike," her voice falters. "That was…was…" She's struggling for words. I lean in and kiss her. She relaxes into my kiss and then pulls away.

"I should really go. It's late. And Dawn…"

"Shhh." I kiss her again. "I know."

I pull her off the bed and she is standing there as if lost. I begin gathering her clothes and hand them to her. She stares at them, as if wondering what they are and what their purpose is. Just as I believe I am going to have to dress her, she pulls the garments on, piece by piece. I slip into my jeans and a shirt.

"I'll walk you home love."

She shakes her head. "Not necessary Spike." Her voice is still subdued. I want to argue. I want to get every last minute that I can out of her. But her face has hardened and I know that any argument will be futile.

I smile. "Let me at least walk you to the door." I want to tease her out of her silence, but she just nods mutely. We make our way to the upper level and to the door. I kiss her again. I want to fall to my knees and beg her to stay. Instead I run the back of my hand along her cheek. "Be careful love." She nods again and heads out the door. I watch until the night swallows her and she disappears.

Continued in Chapter 3

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