piper4

DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX , Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. Theirs not mine.

Buffy looks truly sickened. �I�m no better than a vampire.� She looks up at me. �I don�t mean you. I mean�� She closes her eyes. �God, I just can�t say what I really mean.�

�It�s alright, love. I can understand why you wouldn�t want to feel like an evil, disgusting thing. That�s what you think we are. No nuances, no differences between me and the vamps you like to slay.� It hurts so much that after everything we�ve had, nothing has really changed.

�I love you. I know that you�re different.� Buffy says the words, but they don�t quite make it to her eyes.

�Do you, now?� Try as I might to push it down, pain comes across in every word.

She pulls me close, pressing her head against my chest. �I can see myself in you. And I can see you in me. I can feel your demon. I can reach out and touch it. I can even make it mine. Just as I can make you mine.�

She stares at me deeply, intently. I feel her bring my demon forth, pulling it out of me. Pulling my head down, she licks my brow, running her tongue over the ridges there. Bringing my finger to her mouth, she bites down hard, drawing blood. I gasp, in equal parts pain and lust.

I brush the tip of my bloodied finger across her lips. Buffy�s mouth opens, her tongue emerging to lap up the bead of blood. An expression of pleasure washes over her face. She sucks in her cheeks, sliding my finger in and out of her mouth. Her breathing speeds up even more, her heartbeat pounding faster. She stares at me with intense eyes. �It�s not enough. I need more.�

Without warning, her hand plunges into my pants, sending buttons scattering. Buffy straddles my knees. She clamps her thighs around my legs as she pumps my cock with two hands. A strangled noise gurgles up from my throat as she leans forward and bites my lip.

�Blood,� she whispers, staring at the red trail dribbling down my chin. She licks the blood away, pumping my cock all the while in a grip of steel.

My hips thrust wildly as I begin to come. �Slayer,� I scream, the pleasure so immense I feel like my head will blow off. She slides down my body in a flash. Suddenly, my cock is encased in her warm mouth, and I explode. I pour into her throat, my hands coiled in her golden hair.

Buffy swallows me down, watching my face. With gentle strokes, she licks my cock clean. Leaning back on her heels, she pulls off my boots and pants as I lie there, still stunned by my orgasm. She wanders off to a dark corner and comes back holding her duffel bag. Unzipping it, she peers inside and smiles wickedly. Looking over at me, she says, �Close your eyes.� I comply, and feel her pull a blindfold over my head, tightening it in the back. I open my eyes, feeling my eyelashes rustle against the leather.

�All that bitching and moaning at the sex shop and you went back and got the blindfold?� I tease her, uncertain what her plan is. Something silky slides over my thighs. I can feel the brush of her boots against the sides of my legs. Her hair tickles my face, the scent of her filling my nostrils.

Something smooth and cool trails over my thighs, running up my stomach. �Looks like now is the time to explore my dark side,� she says softly. Her mouth closes over my ear as I hear a slap and feel a sting. I see an image in my mind, a dark shadow crashing down. Buffy just hit me with a bloody riding crop.

�Please,� I moan. She bites down gently on my ear. �Are you a good slave or a bad slave?� she purrs.

�I�ll be good, I�ll be so very good,� I whisper. I can�t think of anything I wouldn�t do, just to keep this going.

Her tongue traces my earlobe as the crop cracks down on my thigh. �Wrong answer, slave,� she says cheerfully.

I hiss with the pleasure of it. My cock springs to attention, ready and willing. �I�ll be bad, I�ll be dirty and nasty and evil. I�ll do bad things,� I moan. The crop cracks down again across my belly, close to my pulsing cock.

�You�ll do,� she says, �whatever I tell you to do.� Her voice is breathy and excited. The fact that I can�t see her is driving me crazy. The image in my mind shows my face, starkly white against the mask, contorted with pleasure.

Her hand drifts down my body, flitting across my pubic hair. �Touch me, � I plead. She strikes me again, making a large snap.

�No,� she says, guiding my hand across her breast and belly, across something satin, and places my hand on her mound. I reach down, sliding my fingers into her sopping depths. I knead her breast with my other hand. I slide my fingers in and out of her, leaving her moaning my name.