TITLE: "Wrong" 1/1
AUTHOR:Laure Alexander
EMAIL: laurealexander@hotmail.com
DISTRIBUTION: If you like it, just ask; I've never said no. If
you have my permission, please take.
SPOILER:After the musical, but the big finale never happened--
they just went their separate ways.
RATING:NC17
CONTENT WARNING:Graphic sex, language
SUMMARY:I began this actually the morning of the Musical,
having read some spoilers about Buffy & Spike. This
was supposed to be darker, but after reading the TV
Guide blurb for the episode on 11/27, it refused to go
dark anymore. I'm just too giddy. Anyway, this is my
view of their first time.
FEEDBACK:Please, please, please. No flames, please.
DISCLAIMER:I don't own Buffy and friends or Buffy the
Vampire Slayer; they're owned by Joss Whedon and Fox
and thankfully UPN because now we get real outdoor
scenes and lots of costume changes and musical numbers!
No copyright infringement intended so please don't sue.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:This is kinda stream of thought fic, goes from present
tense to past and back, and switches perspective back and
forth.
Hope it makes sense.
It's wrong.
Even as her body clenches, her hips rise, her fingernails dig into
cool, dry flesh, she knows.
This was never meant to be.
A gasp escapes her parted lips and her body arches. Pleasure
floods her veins, her eyes cross with need, and she surrenders to
the moment of intimate bliss, driving away all thought.
He's on top of her, moving quickly, unable to contain himself, to
restrain himself, to slow down and love her as he always
dreamed. The demon inside him demands release.
The man inside him demands the same.
Her touch is bliss, her body afire with longing, burning him to
the core. His control is long shattered. He pounds into her, but
even though his thoughts are scattered to the four winds, he
knows he's not hurting her.
She's moving with him, meeting each thrust of his pelvis with one
of her own.
Her legs are around his hips, her heels drumming against him,
forcing the pace to remain fast and hard and deep.
So deep.
She's so small, yet her body was made for his, able to take him
all without a wince of pain. Her inner muscles are driving him
mad as they squeeze and squeeze.
Make me pop, luv, he thinks, teeth gritted from strain, muscles
tense as he hovers above her watching the need flutter across
her flushed face, her breasts heave with lust.
She is finally his, and it is better than every wet dream he has
had of her.
If he has one regret it is that he wished he could love her slowly,
gently, giving her the tender passion that one so young,
so... human should have. But, there's no way...
Her body is in control. Her mind acknowledges that this act is
wrong, but her body is in control, and her body needs this so
badly. Needs release, ecstasy, orgasm, even for a moment.
She needs to forget, even for a moment.
He always helps her forget.
It had seemed logical to take this step. From talking, and
drinking, and fighting side by side, to this. To sharing his bed.
She knew it's what he wanted. He'd sang to her to stay away
unless she was ready for more... for this collision of bodies and
lust.
And she'd been so sure it would never happen.
But, he'd given so much to her, he'd protected her sister, he'd
become... almost human for her. He listened to her. He
understood her.
And his touch made her tingle in a way she hadn't in years. In
the way that only one of his kind could.
It was so easy to convince him. He was so stunned, yet so
grateful. His kiss had been... sweet, loving.
And then they'd been on the bed, hands stripping away clothes,
mouths nipping and twisting and clashing together, as mindless
passion had overtaken them both. Her body had been ready for
his, hot and wet and swollen with need, and his...his was always
ready for her.
The moment of joining had been perfect. They'd cried out,
clutching at each other, as their bodies fit together as if made
for the other. And they'd moved as one, both spinning out of
control almost immediately, driven by a hunger for each other.
But, she knows it's wrong.
Deep inside herself, where the old Buffy still exists, she knows
that giving herself to a demon is wrong.
But, the old Buffy is dying a swift death beneath the pounding of
his body into hers, the hot, wet pleasure building in her driving
away all thoughts, all concerns. She clutches his shoulders,
lifting her head to bury her mouth in his throat. Her teeth scrape
his carotid artery, and she smiles as he howls.
She knows just what pleases the demon in him. And she doesn't
care that it's wrong for her to have that knowledge.
He gasps and thrusts wildly, the dull teeth nipping at his cold
flesh driving him over the edge. The change comes over him,
uncontrollable as so much is out of his control, and he kisses her
hard. His fangs break the skin of her inner lips and her blood
trickles into his mouth.
And she bucks beneath him, keening into the kiss, climaxing as
the monster above her sips at her blood and grinds the base of
his cock against her clit.
Lifting his head, Spike stares down at her through golden eyes,
noting the pleasure suffusing her skin, the lax smile on her face.
Her inner muscles continue to grip him, and he takes her hips in
his hands, lifting her so that he can plunge deeper, deeper, to
her core.
With another animalistic howl, a howl not remotely human, he
comes and collapses limply on top of her, great shudders rolling
through him.
Shivering with pleasure, Buffy weakly raises one hand and
caresses the ridges of his forehead as he licks roughly at the
sweat pooling along her collar bone.
He's never felt better in his entire unlife, but...
"It's wrong," he murmurs, knowing it to be true, knowing that she
shouldn't be there, beneath him, their bodies still joined.
"I know," she whispers back, wrapping her arms around his neck
and tugging his head down for another kiss.
He tastes her blood still seeping, and groans helplessly as desire
flares anew and his cock hardens inside its fiery prison.
"I don't care," she continues, her legs lifting around his hips, her
body beginning to burn again.
End
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