Disclaimer: The Buffyverse, where vampire slayers stand against the forces of darkness, belongs to the great and powerful Joss.
BtVS Spuffy
Rating: ST-17™©
Warning: Rated ST-17™© for adult activities.
Spoilers: Spoilers through Dead Things.
Pairings: Buffy/Spike
Summary: An episode tag for Dead Things.
A/N: Written for the Porn Battle. The prompt: Buffy/Spike, trust. If you haven't seen the seventh season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, then why are you reading this fic? Get over to amazon and make with the unboxing, stat!
Credits: Screencap in the title graphic from Crime Tastes Funny, part of the freeze frame network
"Do you trust me, Slayer?"
Buffy's eyes snapped to the handcuffs dangling from Spike's hand. No, trust and Spike were definitely unmixy things. But the thought of the cold steel closing around her wrists with a foreboding click sent a rush of heat through her, and she wanted the handcuffs.
She imagined her body stretching upwards as he fixed her hands above her head, and her breath caught in her throat at what twisted things he might have in store for her then. Things he might not do otherwise, because she could stop him, and sometimes she did.
Her fingers itched to reach for them, and run her fingertips over the steel. She could pin Spike down and shackle him to the headboard easily enough, if they made it as far as the bed. But she preferred that Spike have his hands available, if they went another round. She liked Spike's hands.
When Spike touched her -- did things to her -- she felt alive. Her pulse pounded, her skin tingled, and she felt it every time she pulled air into her lungs, because his depraved uses for her body left her out of breath like nothing else could. At least since she'd come back. Flipping burgers, nagging Dawn, slaying vampires, paying bills. It was all blurry grey routine that left her numb.
She came to Spike to feel, and he certainly got the job done. She watched the candlelight glinting off the stainless steel, and imagined it biting into her wrists, her hands in the hollow of her back as he filled her, his cold fingers gripping hard enough to bruise, and his cool flesh sliding over her hot skin as his mouth found her throat. Back arched, muscles quivering, she could let the waves of feeling crash into her again, washing away all memories of burger grease and electric bills.
If he snapped those cuffs around her wrists, she'd never make it home before Dawn went to bed, and she'd miss the nightly routine of pretending things were normal. He'd trap her here, away from the demanding world that had ripped her back to it even from the grave -- she could let him, and blame it on the heat of the moment. And when she caught her breath, duty would have to wait, because he'd keep her as long as it pleased him.
The handcuffs swayed in the light, the tension coiling tighter within her as she watched them. She wanted his cool mouth exploring her skin, teasing her until she begged for more, and then screamed herself hoarse when he gave it. If this was just about sex she'd spend the night shackled to his bed and save the ashamed part for later.
But Spike was a vampire. Not that she feared him. She could take him in a fight, no problem, she'd done it often enough. Even now, naked beneath a rug, unarmed, she could beat him. And she didn't mind pain. It beat the numbness, or at least it did if she noticed it.
She'd died twice, and she'd survived more than one vampire bite besides, but if he turned her -- that thought stopped her cold. Becoming a vampire was the one thing Buffy still feared. As much as she was really tired of her friends lately, she didn't want a demon using her body to kill them.
She might be the back-from-the-dead slayer, even the came-back-wrong slayer, but she didn't plan to be the vampire slayer. Well, vampire slayer, but not vampire!slayer. That would be bad.
Spike wanted the slayer, he got off on it -- her hatred and the way she hurt him -- he'd never make her a vampire. Probably. The handcuffs swung just out of reach.
"Do you trust me, Slayer?"
"Never."
Buffy the Vampire Slayer™©, Angel™© the Series and related properties exist as Registered Trademarks of Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. No profits made here. © Spiletta42, January 2008.
