Title: Five Things Spike Wants For Christmas
Author: okdeanna —
Word Count: 1724
Post Wrecked, BTVS Season 6
Summary: Spike fantasizes about the five things he wants for Christmas…
Betas: dusty273 — and spikesredqueen —
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em. I’m just borrowing ‘em.
Warnings: sexual situations, adult language
A/N: This is pretty much PWP, something I normally try to stay away from. But once the idea for it hit, I knew I couldn’t not write it. It’s Spike’s Christmas wish, after all.
Five Things Spike Wants For Christmas
Buffy tied to his bed, ready and willing to let him do whatever he bloody well likes to her hot, tight, little body…
Spike ran his hands from the tips of her fingers, over the hard, glistening steel clamped around her wrists and down, caressing her skin with easy, feather light touches designed to drive her out of her bleeding mind with need. When she bucked her hips upward, grinding her pelvis up against his, he growled.
“Do that again, pet, and I’ll tie your ankles to the bedposts as well.”
Her heartbeat skittered, her arousal thickening the air with its sweet, musky scent. Spike tilted his head to the side, grinning down at his willing victim. “Well, well, somebody has a hidden kink fetish and it isn’t the Big Bad.”
“Shut up, Spike. You said you were going to ravage me…so ravage already.”
“Now, pet, no need to hurry this time. I’ve got you right where I want you. Don’t want to rush things before I’ve had the chance to savor them, hmm?”
Spike’s grin widened as he slowly eased down the bed, trailing kisses and blunt little bites along her abdomen and thighs. “Of course, love. A smart bloke always savors what could be his last meal.”
“I’m not a…” she paused, gasping as his tongue shot out to lick her moist slit, “…meal.”
Spike just smiled, knowing she’d change her mind soon enough.
* * *
Buffy riding him at a gallop, until his insides quiver and he pops like warm champagne…
Her inner muscles tightened, clamping down on his shaft with a ferocity that damn near blinded him.
“Christ, pet,” he ground out, staring up at her enraptured face. “You’re gonna drain me dry, you keep that up.”
“W-what’s the matter, Spikey? Can’t handle it?”
Spike growled, digging his fingers into the flesh of his hips and bucked up. “I can handle anything you dish out, love.”
She stilled her movements, hazel eyes taking on a mischievous twinkle as she leaned over, pelvis lifting off his as she reached into the makeshift nightstand by his bed and pulled out a set of handcuffs, laying its key near the base of one candle. “Care to let me test that boast?” she asked straightening up, clamping down on him again, the hard steel dangling from her fingertips, whispering to him like an old erotic love song.
He let go of her hips, raising his arms over his head and watched her face light up as she slid the cool metal across his wrists, clicking each cuff firmly into place.
Spike grinned. “Just a bit tighter, love. Wanna make it burn when I move.”
“Oh, it’ll burn, baby. I promise it’ll burn.” She bent forward, dragging him into a heated kiss before yanking back, denying his tongue entry into her mouth. “Now, now, vampire. I’m in charge here. No funny business or else I won’t be able to reward you properly.”
He chucked his tongue behind his teeth. “What kind of reward we talking about, pet?”
She began to move and Spike had a flash of a memory just as she slammed down on him, hard.
I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you pop like warm champagne and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more.
Cheeky bint. She’d been right all along. Before the night was over, he would beg for more…and more and…oh God, right there, love…more.
“Ride me, Buffy. Ride me hard.”
“What…do you think…I’ve been…doing?”
* * *
Buffy using those nice, ripe lips to suck him off…
Hot, moist heat surrounded him, drawing him away from the edge of sleep and toward the woman kneeling over him on the bed. Her hazel eyes twinkled with mischief as her tongue drew a steady line up the vein on the underside of his shaft; he shuddered, his hips arching up off the bed.
“Christ, love, don’t stop.”
She mumbled something around him, too low for even his stellar vamp hearing to pick it up. But once she hollowed her cheeks, swallowing hard around him, he was too bloody gone to sodding think much less question her about her words.
* * *
Buffy in the shower, asking him to come and wash her back…and her front…
“Spike?” Buffy called out from upstairs. “Can you come help me a minute?”
Spike shrugged at the confused look her mates gave him and casually sauntered up the stairs to the second floor. He frowned when he realized she wasn’t in her bedroom. He opened his mouth, ready to call out to her when suddenly her hand shot out from between the partially open bathroom door, dragging him inside the small room without any warning.
The door shut behind him, the lock sliding into place a second before the Slayer captured his lips, her tiny hands frantically pulling at the hem of his shirt. When it was off, she reached for the button on his jeans, popping it and then unzipping him, sliding her hands inside.
His head fell back as her hand closed around his shaft, pumping hard and fast. It didn’t take him long to cum and when he opened his eyes, hers were twinkling back at him. “You’re all sticky, Spike. I think you need a shower now.”
“Is that right, pet?” He swallowed hard as she bent down to untie his boots, her lips even with his fast rising erection. “Uh, Buffy, love, maybe I should do that, yeah?”
She shook her head, concentrating on her task. “Nope. I wanna do this myself. It’s no fun if someone else unwraps your present for you.” She glanced up, leaning in to give his shaft a quick lick, before returning her attention to his boots.
By the time he was naked and the shower water was steaming hot, his body was a quivering mass of hungry need. “You know what you’re doing, pet? Your mates are all downstairs. They could come up at any time, you know.”
“So we’ll have to be really quiet then.” She dragged him into the shower, her lathered hands working over his chest, down his torso, once again settling on his cock. “My, my, somebody wants their own Christmas present, don’t they, Spike?”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Of course given the mood the Slayer was in, it wouldn’t much matter if he could speak anyway. She probably wouldn’t hear a bloody word he said over the rush of blood pounding through her veins.
“Spike?” Buffy whispered, hand sliding across his back, gripping his buttocks. “Will you do something for me?”
“Anything, love. Just name it.”
She smiled, releasing him as quickly as she grabbed him. “I’m all dirty, baby. Will you wash my back for me…and my front?”
Hell yeah. And anything else she bleeding wanted him to wash. He reached for the soap, taking it from her hands. “Turn around, love.”
She batted her eyelashes at him, turning to face the wall, hands propped against the tile, butt pushing back toward him. Water sloshed against her backside, dripping into the crevice of her buttocks.
Spike grinned. “This is gonna take a while, Slayer. Gonna have to do a real thorough examination first.”
“Whatever you say, Master.”
Unlife just couldn’t get any more bloody perfect than this, could it?
He stepped closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Yeah, love?”
Her breath hitched, her heartbeat picking up speed; she pushed back against his erection. “I’m really wet and sticky between my legs. Do you think you could start down there first?”
His grin widened. “It’d be my pleasure, pet.”
“Mine, too,” she purred into the air, moaning as he dropped to his knees, sliding around her, mouth swiftly clamping onto her clit. Her body jerked; he chuckled, swirling his tongue up and down her moist slit.
Oh yeah. Unlife could always get better. Especially when shagging a Slayer was involved.
* * *
Buffy writhing beneath him, begging him to make love to her…
His lips teased the outer lobe of her right ear, tongue swirling in the vortex of her inner rim before lowering to the pulse point of her neck, mouth suckling until the supple flesh beneath warmed with a steady rush of hot blood.
She arched her back, body drawn against her will to the sensations of his touch. “Spike, please…”
“Please, what?” he asked, tone amused. “Gotta be a bit more specific, love. Tell a bloke what you want…or is it need?”
She wanted to hit him. He could see it in her eyes. But she wouldn’t. Not now. Not when he had her so close to the bloody edge.
“I swear to God, Spike, if you don’t…”
His amusement vanished. “Don’t what, love? Make love to you? Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” she hissed, arching upward again, lower body rubbing against him. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He smiled, brushing a hand down her arms, her sides, up her torso to her breast. He took her nipple between two fingers, pinching it lightly, and spread his fingers to cup her. “Christ, but you fit nicely in my palm, pet. So bloody perfect. Made for me, you were.”
Recognizing the urgent need in her voice and knowing it matched his own, he settled himself between her thighs, easily sliding home. “Sodding hell, pet, but you are a tight, little bird. Gonna bloody strangle me, you are.”
He frowned, eyeing her half-closed lids with disappointment. “Look at me, Buffy. Watch who it is loving you this way.”
“I know who it is, Spike.”
He shook his head. “No, love, you don’t.” He tilted his head to the side, watching her face as he began to move within her. “Call me William, pet. I want you to call me William.”
“W-why?” she asked archin’ up to meet his thrust.
“Because it’s Christmas, pet…and it’s what I want. The only thing I’ve ever wanted ‘sides you.”
She reached up, framing his face with her hands, hazel eyes tottering on the verge of tears.
“Make love to me…William.”
“Be my pleasure, Buffy. I love you.”
“I know, William. I know.”