Truths in the night - Chapter 3
Disclaimer: Yada Yada Yada. Not mine, blah blah, if ME ever wanted to
film this they could do it absolutely for free and I would be lining up to buy
it on DVD (in case the video wore out *ahem*)
Thanks: to Pet for the beta - and to the Order of the Sisters of the
Sacred Sock O'Smut.
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He lay down, pulling her with him, stroking her hair as he cradled her gently against him. She snuggled closer, grateful to be held, realising that this night marked a turning point for their relationship, but happy to leave consequences for the morning.
At a sudden thought, she chuckled. He looked at her, puzzled as a grin of pure mischief split her face.
"What is it luv," he asked.
"I just realised, I've seen the proof now," she replied. At his puzzled look, she added, "You really aren't a natural blond."
"What, you've only just realised that?" he teased, slanting a sideways look at her that made her glad the night was still young. "Thought you were smarter than that, Slayer. Maybe you are just a pretty face."
She glared at him, trying to look angry. "Watch it, Spike. I may have died twice, but that's once more than you. And I'm still the Slayer."
"Right, luv. You are that. Need to work on some of those punches though. I shouldn't have been able to get in that easily."
"Oh, so I'm slipping, am I?" she asked, flipping him onto his back and positioning herself over him, shoulders pinned to the ground. "I could still take you."
"Luv, you can take me any time you want me. You know that. But I was thinking not so much the shagging as the slaying. Although," he moved her hand to his erection, "now that you mention it -"
She rolled her eyes at that, trying to hide the enjoyment she had always gained from their banter and the arousal that added a layer to their complex relationship.
He looked at her speculatively, his voice lowered, more intimate in the dark room. He spoke quietly, almost hesitantly,
"Buffy, luv. Have you ever been tied up?"
She frowned and rolled off him.
"Well, if you don't count that time in your crypt (for which I will *never* forgive you), or the cellar, or - who am I kidding Spike? Of course I have."
He smirked. "Wasn't quite what I meant, Slayer."
Quick as a flash, he rolled over, holding her hands together with his left hand while his right groped across the floor. Soon it returned, clutching her lacy cream blouse. He looped it around her wrists, then around one of the many pillars and beams that littered the floor.
"Not quite the same, luv, is it?"
She struggled briefly, just enough to put up a show for him, unsure of what his next move might be.
"Just try to relax," he said, knowing how impossible that must be for her, "I think you'll enjoy this."
She wriggled once, trying half heartedly to free herself, watching him through eyes that revealed her apprehension and excitement at this new game.
He kissed her, then his lips left her mouth on a sensual journey of exploration. They caressed her collarbone, blunt teeth nibbling and biting her sensitive skin, one hand stroking down her side, holding her together. He moved lower to the peaks of her breasts, circling the areolas but never touching them or the rosy tips.
She whimpered, twisting her body in a vain attempt to make the contact she craved, but he moved with her, anticipating her movements, moving away from the sensitive peaks that cried out for his touch.
"You're gonna have to beg," he said quietly, wondering whether he was perhaps stretching his luck - but his Slayer continued to surprise him.
"Please," she said in a breathy voice quite unlike her usual tones. "I need you to touch me. To suck me. I can't - I'm begging you. You have to touch me, Spike. Touch my breasts. Suck me. Please. I'm on fire."
And he did - but with a dry mouth, lips closed, planting butterfly kisses where she needed a firmer hand, pulling away when she arched her body against him.
"Spike - that's not fair. You need to-"
"What?" he interjected. "Tongue you? Is that what you need?"
"Yes. Tongue me. Let me feel your tongue against me, licking and sucking and swirling. Oh, God, Spike, please. I need it" - and his lips were on her, kissing, sucking, tonguing, driving her relentlessly onward.
"I'll tongue you. I'll tongue you until you scream out for more, I'll kiss you and lick you and taste you until you can't take it anymore."
She arched against him again, lost in his words and their promise, at the sound of his voice and the thought of what he would do to her - with her - this night. She moaned again, gulping air deeply into her lungs, as though mere oxygen could protect her from the force of his sensual onslaught. The sound of his voice, hearing what he would do to her - what he longed to do with her - aroused her still further. Her arms tugged against her lacy restraint. She knew she could break out - Slayer strength was apparently even more useful than she'd realised ("Wonder what the Watchers' Council would think of that one," she mused with her last coherent thoughts).
As he slipped downwards, he raised his head. "I'm going to tongue you again. You know that don't you. I can't get enough of you. I can't believe no-one ever learned how sweet you taste, how you feel when you quiver against my mouth. I want to eat you out, to fuck you with my tongue and buzz your clit between my lips until you explode - a man could live just for that moment. I want to thrust inside you and feel how wet I make you, to pump you, to feel you around me."
His fingers were inside her, drumming in relentless rhythm, as his head bent to take her in his mouth. Kissing, licking, sucking, this time he tortured her, sensing the waves of her passion and pulling back slightly to allow them to subside before resuming his sensuous assault. She was pulling against the restraint, lost in a sensual fog, moving with his hand, moaning at the motions of his lips and tongue.
Bringing his other hand down to join its mate, he slid it inside her, wetting it thoroughly with her juices, tickling her clit gently as he raised his head to gaze at her in wonder.
"Do you trust me, Buffy?" he asked, his passion-thickened voice serious.
She moaned, nodded, "I trust you Spike. Just please, oh, God, don't leave me like this. Keep going. Don't stop. What you're doing - it feels so good. Kiss me, suck me, fuck me with your fingers. I'm so close. Please. Make me come for you."
He smirked, returning his mouth to its task, moving now with purpose, ready to take her to completion. One hand continued to pump in and out of her; the other slid a wet trail down to her puckered rear opening.
Caressing it gently for a moment, and noting the tremors that shot through her, he slowly insinuated one finger into her secret passage. She froze momentarily, then relaxed into his sensual initiation as he began to move it slowly within her.
"That's right luv, give yourself over to it," he murmured, returning his mouth to her clit. Kissing, tickling, tugging gently, fingers pumping into her fore and aft, lips and tongue vibrating over her swollen clit, she moaned, twisted, then gave herself over to the orgasms that raged through her body as he devoured her.
"Untie me?" she asked when she could speak again, and he did, ripping at her blouse to free her hands, which immediately commenced an exploration of their own. His firm cock jutted proudly from its nest of brown curls, clearly in no need of any restorative.
"My turn now," she smiled, wrapping the remains of the blouse around his wrists.