Late that same night, Sunday, October 2^nd, 2011:

Spike showered in record time. It had been a long, hot, and ultimately slightly disappointing day at the ball park. The Slammers’ second place finish was nothing to sneeze at, but Dani had been right about one thing: no one ever remembers who finished second. On the up-side, it was a Minor League baseball tournament. Apart from the winners themselves – and perhaps their parents – within a month no one would remember who finished first, either.

That had been followed by an equally long drive home from the baseball tournament with four tired, grumpy kids who had been on a sugar-high most of the day, and a baby that hadn’t had her nap and was over-tried and just as fussy as the older kids. Instead of falling asleep, which would’ve been the sane thing to do, the kids bickered about everything; not even their little game consoles could keep them from picking at each other. They bickered about how much seat each one had and whined if someone else touched their allotment. This, of course, only encouraged inappropriate seat touching, which garnered retaliatory touching. After Buffy resorted to the ‘no touching, hands in your lap, no moving’ rule, they complained about why this one got the window instead of that one, and insisted that they were thirsty, or hungry, or had to ‘go’. That prompted the no-talking rule, which forced the combatants to start the silent war of making faces at each other.

But that was past now. All fussy children were tucked safely in their separate rooms, unable to touch or be touched by any other child or have their allotted space encroached upon. All was quiet on the juvenile battlefield, and Spike was eager to get to the sound-proofed master bedroom and make some noise of his own. He had absolutely no problem with touching, being touched, or Buffy encroaching on his allotted portion of the bed. In fact, the more encroaching she did the better, as far as he was concerned. She’d been torturing him all weekend … and he’d done his share back, but he was ready for that to end, like now.

As he entered their bedroom, he caught a glimpse of candles glowing softly on the dresser, their light bouncing off the mirror behind them. They filled the room with the scent of gardenias, and cast gentle, flickering light over the whole room.

His desire jerked under the damp towel around his waist. Buffy had been right about the cock-ring not doing any actual harm to his delicates; they were still – after almost two days – raring to go. The mere idea of seeing Buffy’s naked body on the bed bathed in candlelight traveled straight from his mind’s eye to his groin in a split second, taking the last drop of blood in his body with it. However, before he could turn to see where she was in the room, a hand pulled the towel off his hips with a rough yank. In the next instant, the towel was over his head and face, and he was being pushed the short distance from the doorway to the bed. He heard the door slam closed at nearly the same instant his back bounced on the bed, his face covered with the towel, blinding him.

In the very next moment Buffy’s hot, supple body covered his, her hips straddling his, and Spike moaned in approval. He began to reach up to remove the towel from his face, but she grabbed his hand and stopped him. Before he could react, hard, cold metal clicked around his wrist and his arm was pulled up above his head and secured to the reinforced, wrought-iron headboard with another click.

Spike’s excitement grew as Buffy dragged his other arm up and secured it with another set of handcuffs. As she did that, he could feel her breasts press against him, feel her soft skin and tight muscles blend and rub over his chest and stomach. He pressed his hips up against her and could feel her damp folds. His cock yearned for more, and he tried to angle his hips to penetrate her wet pussy, but the sharp point of a stake pressed against his chest stopped him cold.

“Bloody hell, Slayer…” he complained, shock and fear battling for dominance. Yes, he had the Gem, she couldn’t actually dust him even if she’d wanted to, but a century of primal fear wasn’t that easily denied.

“You’ve been a very naughty vampire,” Buffy purred, dragging the point of the stake over the flesh of his chest.

“Have I?” he asked, wishing he could see her, but he couldn’t see anything through the soddin’ towel over his face.

“Mmmhmmm,” she moaned.

Spike gasped when the point of the stake pressed down sharply on his left nipple.

“You came to town to kill me, remember?” Buffy continued as she raked the point of the stake back across his chest towards the other nipple.

"Well, technically, I came t' town to find a cure..." he started casually, but he stopped short, sucking in a sharp gasp when the stake stopped and pressed down dangerously against his ribs.

“You came to town to kill me, remember?” Buffy repeated firmly.

“I remember,” Spike agreed, holding his breath and waiting for her to ease up on the pressure of the stake against his chest. Not that he needed to breathe, but this was another of those primal responses to fear. She eased up. He drew in a tentative breath, waiting for what she was going to do next.

“You set me up in that alley behind the Bronze,” Buffy continued in a low, calm voice as she drew designs on his chest with the tip of the stake. It left red marks in its wake, but didn’t break the skin. “What if I had lost to that minion you sent back there for me to fight?”

Spike shrugged one shoulder very carefully and swallowed. “Then ya wouldn’t have been much of a Slayer. Not worth m’ time.”

“Before me, how many Slayers had you … met or seen?” Buffy wondered as she swirled the stake over his skin drawing curlicues on the alabaster canvas of his torso.

Spike cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Errr … a few.”

“How many?” Buffy demanded, pressing the tip of the stake against his ribs hard enough to draw blood.

“Reckon … five or six,” Spike admitted quickly.

Buffy let off the pressure. “But you only fought three of us.”

“Others weren’t worth fightin’,” Spike admitted. “Wet behind the ears … too green, too easy. Barely even sensed me near ‘em. Could a’ ripped their heads off without trying. No fun in that.”

“And how many did you flirt with?” Buffy asked, still holding the stake over his heart.

“Errr … well … just you,” Spike replied.

Buffy pushed the stake harder against his ribs. “Liar.”

Spike pulled on his restraints and thrashed under her. “Alright! Alright! Flirted a bit with the bird in New York – she blew me off. Could a’ danced with her longer. Had a bit o' your style, she did,” Spike admitted. “And … one in Copenhagen; didn’t speak a word o’ English that one. Think I got to ‘er before her Watcher. Bought me a drink, she did, even though she didn’t understand a bloody word I said. Could a’ had her easy, but there was no thrill in that.”

 Buffy let up off the pressure again. “Naughty vampire,” Buffy asserted.

Spike could feel her lean over and pick something up off the bedside table. Her weight shifting on his hips twisted his cock between them and he hissed in discomfort.

“Naughty vampires must be taught manners,” Buffy continued once she’d settled back atop his hips. The wooden stake she’d had a moment before was replaced with one of ice. She trailed the slender, cold object down his neck, beginning just under one ear. Spike jerked at the new sensation and his apprehension and excitement grew each time she lifted it off his skin. He had no idea where she’d come down with it next. She circled his nipples, hardening them into rocks on his chest, then touched the cold rod down atop one, then the other.

Spike writhed under her, his back arching off the bed as he pulled against the restraints on his wrists. When Buffy’s mouth covered the first nipple she’d frozen with a warm, wet kiss, his hips bucked up against her again.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed as the sensation on his sensitive skin changed from hard and cold to soft and hot in an instant.

Spike’s stomach muscles quivered and quaked as she moved down and circled his navel, then outlined his six-pack with the long, spherical tube of ice.

“Fuck, Slayer!” he moaned as she traced the wispy hair that trailed down from his navel to his groin.

Spike sucked in a breath and held his body as rigid and still as he could when she came near his cock with that freezing wand of hers. “Please don’t…” he begged, screwing his eyes closed tightly beneath the towel, wincing in anticipation.

“Don’t what?” Buffy asked innocently as she picked the ice wand up off his skin so he couldn’t tell where it was.

Spike wasn’t breathing, wasn’t moving. His whole body was one tight, hard line of muscle and bone as he waited for what she was going to do next. He was afraid to take in a breath to answer her.

“Don’t what?” she prodded again as she slid down his legs until his pelvis was exposed completely. Spike could hear the evil smile in her voice and it made his cock jump.

“Ooooo … looks like someone likes my ice wand. Who says frigid is a bad thing?” Buffy teased. The cold tip of the rod came down on Spike’s thigh and he jumped in surprise and relief.

His relief was short-lived, however, as she squirmed and opened his legs up so she could settle on her knees between them. Buffy trailed the blunt ice stake up his inner thigh, leaving a path of cold water and goose-flesh in its wake.

Spike’s body froze again, tensing for the inevitable. His mind blanked, unable to even form words to beg her to stop. When the cold tip touched his balls he did his best imitation of a screaming banshee while his body jerked and writhed under her. His testicles tried to pull up into his body to get away, but then, just as quickly, her mouth was there, heating him, burning him.

“Bloody fucking hell! Goddamn ice queen – feels bloody amazing! Jesus, Slayer! Fuck … yesss …” his voice trailed off into a moan as Buffy’s hot tongue swirled languid circles around his balls. He thought he could feel the cold water that the wand had left begin to sizzle and steam when her tongue trailed through it.

In the next moment, he heard the soft hum of the vibrator strapped to his genitals begin, and a thousand little shocks of pleasure washed over him. When his hips bucked too wildly, she pressed down on his hipbones with her hands to hold him still. Then her tongue and lips and teeth were trailing down his aching cock, the vibrations tickling her nose, as she continued to tease him unmercifully.

Spike pulled on his restraints again, wanting to touch her, to feel her soft and silky hair between his fingers, to feel her hot, glorious skin beneath his palms. As it was, her long tresses were tickling softly against the skin of his groin and thighs. Her sweet mouth had reached his balls again and she sucked and nibbled at the sensitive globes, sending a whole different kind of chill running through his body.

He began to relax under her, enjoying the sweet feel of her lips engulfing him, but Buffy wasn’t done with her lesson yet. He still couldn’t see what she was doing, even though the towel had gone a bit askew when he’d thrashed about.

She pulled off his balls with a wet ‘pop’, leaving him wanting, needing more.

“Please, Slayer … suck my cock. Can’t take much more…” Spike begged. He couldn’t see what she was doing, but could smell cherries. More specifically: cherry-flavored lube. It was a very distinctive aroma.

“W-what are ya doing, Slayer?” Spike asked tentatively. He shook his head again to try and get the towel the rest of the way off, but it wasn’t cooperating.

“Naughty vampires must be taught manners,” Buffy repeated as she pressed his legs up and out.

Spike lurched and jerked under her when the cold tip of her magic wand touched the sensitive skin of his anus. “Bloody hell!!! Are ya out of your fucking mi… arrrghh!”

The tip of the cold, thin wand, now covered with a condom and plenty of lube, slipped inside him. Spike shuddered and convulsed as Buffy gently pressed it in further, then pulled out and then back in again. Spike’s balls contracted – hell, everything contracted – and his mind went numb.

Buffy continued the slow rhythm of her ice-dildo with one hand as she pulled Spike’s vibrating cock up from where it stood against his abs and dropped her mouth over him, hard and hot.

A scream of crazed, carnal pleasure tore from Spike’s throat. It came out as something between a roar of a lion and the cry of a hyena – primal and wild. He bucked up into her hot mouth, and Buffy had to swallow frantically to keep from gagging. She gripped her hand around the base of his cock to keep him from doing that again, and began to bob her head in the same slow rhythm she was using in his ass.

Spike’s mind was gone. Moans and curses and exclamations of pleasure flowed out of his mouth without ever stopping in with his brain. They seemed to rise directly from his gut … or more likely a bit lower. The cold rod inside him wasn’t actually painful, it was just … amazingly erotic, like nothing he'd ever felt before. That combined with her hot, soft mouth engulfing his cock and the cock-ring vibrating everything was more than his mind could process, so control had been relinquished to his body. Where his logical mind had little patience, his body had none. There would be no holding back from this onslaught of sensation.

“Fuck me, Slayer! God, yes! Fuck … suck me off! Suck it! Harder! Fuck me harder! Fucking yesssssss!” Spike screamed at her, writhing and pulling against his restraints as his body convulsed one last time and exploded. The silicone band of the cock-ring didn't stand a chance at stopping the volcano. It stretched dangerously, nearly to the breaking point, with each pulse of cum that erupted from Spike's tortured body.

With his demands, Buffy increased the rhythm of her thrusts into him and sucked down hard, slamming her mouth down as she swirled her tongue over his shaft. If she had really been a cruel ice queen, she would’ve stopped just in the nick of time and pulled off him, but, honestly, making him twitch and jerk under her was a rush for her, as well. Feeling his cum explode furiously against the back of her throat was empowering. She owned him and she’d just proven it. Of course, that went both ways, but whatever.

She continued fucking his ass with the dwindling length of condom-covered ice as she sucked down on him hard and swallowed his cum. Spike’s body twitched under her uncontrollably, and his words had degenerated into incoherent, gasping, guttural moans. She had reduced him to a puddle of goo, and it felt like heaven.

When Spike’s body finally began to relax and his cock softened in her mouth, Buffy pulled what was left of her ice-dildo out of him and tossed the whole thing into the trash. She cleaned his cock as she pulled off, licking and sucking every drop of cum from his skin. She clicked off the cock-ring vibrator and pulled the ‘torture’ device off him, as well. She sat back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips.

“Told ya I’d make you scream,” she teased, as she pulled the towel off Spike’s face.

“You’re a bloody animal. Amazing, you are,” he purred, able to meet her eyes for the first time since he’d come in the room.

“And don’t you forget it,” Buffy cautioned. “Copenhagen? Why haven’t I heard about that before?” she wondered, quirking a brow at him.

“Uhhh … nothin’ to tell, is there? Had a drink with the bird … walked away,” Spike stammered.

“Uh-huh,” Buffy intoned, eyeing him suspiciously. “Drinks with underage Slayers. So little happened that you never thought to mention it before. So, tell me, why I shouldn’t dust you right here where you lie?”

“The bird wasn’t underage in Copenhagen back then, pet. All relative, innit? And … well … ‘cos … I can … do things for ya,” Spike offered.

“Like what?” Buffy wondered as she repositioned herself, straddling Spike’s hips. She began tracing the red lines the stake had left on Spike’s chest with the tip of her finger.

Spike shivered at her touch. “Take you t’ heaven, I can.”

“What would a vampire know about heaven?” Buffy wondered.

Spike smirked. “Plenty. Could eat that sweet pussy o’ yours, fuck you right over the edge with m’ tongue, my fingers…”

“What about this?” Buffy interrupted, wrapping her hand around his flaccid shaft.

“Give us a minute an’ I’ll make ya scream with that, pet,” Spike promised, smiling wolfishly.

“You’ve got an awfully high opinion of yourself.”

“And I live up to every word of it,” Spike assured her, running his tongue over his lips seductively. He rattled the handcuffs against the iron of the headboard. “Turn me loose and I’ll show ya.”

“And what would keep you from killing me if I turned you loose, vampire?”

“You got a bloody stake right there, Slayer,” he reminded her, tilting his head to the nightstand. “I’m at your mercy.”

“Mmmm,” Buffy mused, biting her lip to try and keep the grin off her face. “I like the sound of that…”

Spike wagged his brows at her. “Your wish is my command,” he offered.

“I definitely like the sound of that…” Buffy murmured, unable to stop the grin from spreading over her features.  Buffy reached over and retrieved the key to the cuffs and released Spike’s wrists.

He was no sooner free than he’d grabbed her and flipped them over, slamming her back down onto the mattress. Buffy squealed in surprise and began to laugh until Spike clicked the open manacle around one of her wrists. She began to thrash under him in protest, pulling her other hand against her body, but he captured it and forced it up so he could fasten the other cuff around it.

“Bad vampire!” Buffy scolded him. “Let me go!”

Spike smirked down at her as he picked the towel up and dropped it over face. “Untamed faerie ‘ere, pet. You recall callin’ me a ‘faerie boy’, yeah? Welcome to my version of ‘Payback is Hell’.”

“I am sooo gonna stake you,” Buffy growled from beneath her damp towel mask.

“Reckon you already did, in a manner o’ speaking,” Spike reminded her. “Cherry-flavored popsicle right up my bum.”

Buffy giggled. “That’s sounds funny … ‘cherry-flavored popsicle up your bum’,” she repeated, laughing. “I bet not even Anya could say she’s done that to anyone.”

“You should tell ‘er about it. Reckon Harris would be all over that,” Spike suggested.

Buffy laughed harder. “Oh yes, Mr. Homophobe would go wild for a cherry-flavored popsicle up his bum.”

Spike smirked. He’d love to be a fly on the wall when Anya suggested that.

“Now then,” Spike continued, his voice growing serious. “What shall I do t’ punish my ice queen?”

“You promised to take me to heaven – you said you belonged to me, remember? My servant or something…”

“I lied,” Spike divulged flatly, his nonchalant shrug lost on the blindfolded Buffy. “Vampire, remember? Evil.”

“Oooo, I knew I should never have trusted you … you … you ... evil faerie vampire! Whatever shall you do to a poor ice queen in your evil clutches?” Buffy wondered dramatically.

“Well now … let’s have a think on that,” Spike mused, sliding off her hips and settling between her golden legs. He traced a finger over her flat, bare stomach and down to the neat triangle of wiry curls.

“Are those lovely little toys still ‘ere …?” Spike’s voice trailed off as he slid his finger between her folds, over her clit, and to her throbbing hole.

Spears of fire exploded through her body when he touched her clit. When his finger slipped inside her and found the little Ben Wa balls that she’d had in all weekend, her back bowed up off the mattress in pleasure. Gasps of bliss poured from her throat as Spike manipulated the toys inside her, rolling them over her g-spot, down to stretch her opening, and then back up inside her again.  Buffy’s inner muscles clenched and throbbed around him, undulating with the pleasure of his touch.

“Yes! Yes, yes … Spike … yes, please…” she begged him. “More, please … need … gah!” she gasped out when he slid another finger in to join the first. A small orgasm shivered through her body, rising from his touch. She’d been on the verge of climax for hours … more than hours – days now. Her body stiffened and her pussy tightened around his fingers and the smooth balls as the wave of gentle bliss washed over her. It felt good – but it wasn’t nearly enough to satiate the need inside her that had been building all weekend.

“What do ya need, pet?” Spike purred to her as he began pumping his fingers into her slowly.

“Cum … need more,” Buffy replied, pulling against her restraints.

“Do ya now?” Spike teased. “And what would ya have me do about that, then?”

“Fuck me … harder!” Buffy insisted, as her hips jerked up against his hand.

Spike hooked the tips of his fingers behind the little toys and pulled the slick, glistening balls out of her. “As I recall, I was supposed t’ be torturin’ you … payback for something-er-other.”

“Spike, please!” Buffy pleaded with him when he stopped touching her.

Buffy could feel him shifting on the bed, then the towel covering her head moved and his voice was right near her ear. “You want me inside you, luv?” he asked in a slow, rumbling purr. Buffy’s face was still covered, but her ear was exposed and she could feel his words, rough and raw, against her skin.

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly.

Spike shifted again and when he spoke next his breath tickled the bend of her neck right over her jugular, right over his scar. “You want my tongue to lap at your sweet juices? Want it plunging into your hot, tight hole?”

“Yes,” Buffy repeated as her chest heaved with rapid, gasping breaths.

Spike moved again and his words flowed over one hard nipple like drizzled honey. “You want my lips sucking your throbbing clit, sendin’ sparks up your body, igniting you, burning you?”

“God yes…”

“Want t’ feel my fingers slip inside you? Spreading your tight pussy, floodin’ it with your desire, gettin’ you ready for my cock?”

“Jesus … Spike… please,” Buffy moaned, writhing on the bed in desperate need.

He kept talking as he moved down her body, his mouth only millimeters away from her heated skin. His cool breath burned her to the core as he painted pictures with his words, making love to her with his rich, honeyed voice, and taking her closer and closer to the edge of insanity.

“Then I slide my fingers out, dripping with your slickness and down …” he continued to murmur. “Down to your sweet ass. Mmmm …” he moaned, vibrating the air above her abdomen and making Buffy’s stomach muscles quiver. “You got a sweet ass, Slayer. And when I slip that finger in, the way you buck, like a wild animal … untamed, unbroken …

“You want me to slide that finger in, Slayer?”

“Yes …” Buffy continued breathlessly, imagining it behind her blindfold.

“And my cock … no popsicles for you. Cherry-flavored cock’ll be your reward, luv. You gonna let my hard, fat cock in that sweet ass? Can ya feel my flesh slapping against yours? Can ya hear it, pet? Mmmm … my cock plowing into you, my hips popping hard against your sweet cheeks. Feels good, yeah?”

“Oh yeah…” Buffy moaned, seeing it, feeling it, in her mind’s eye.

Spike’s breath was tickling the skin of her upper thigh now. He’d worked his way down all the way from her ear, over her breasts, her flat stomach, and across one hipbone, never touching her with anything more than words. Buffy’s whole body tingled and burned with desire; her toes curled and even the tips of her fingers seemed to prickle with need. Goose-flesh rippled over her, bringing the fine, small hairs on the back of her neck to attention.

“You burn me to the bone, Buffy. So hot you are … so full o’ bloody lust and passion. Love touchin’ you. Love being inside you, having you around me, holdin’ me, squeezing me…” Spike continued to purr near her heated flesh. “Love feelin’ you cum. Got no bloody idea how good you feel, pulsing over me, engulfing me with your flames. Cum for me, Buffy … let me feel it now. So hard for you, I am. Give it to me, Slayer … gonna pound into you with the power of my demon.

“Can you feel it? Can ya feel how hard I am for you? Can your pussy feel me inside you? Slamming against you – gonna rip you in two. Gonna fuck you right to heaven, I am. Open those lovely legs for me, Slayer. Let me see you cum, see your honey flow…”

Buffy obeyed immediately, writhing in pleasure at his thick words that dripped over her body, burning her blissfully like liquid candle wax. Spike moved again, still never touching her, and she felt the bed dip between her legs. Buffy opened herself up to him, the wet petals of her pink flower spreading to expose her throbbing womanhood.

“Touch me … God, Spike … please…” she begged, tilting her hips up to him.

“So bloody beautiful you are. So wet … so hot and swollen for me,” he purred before blowing a hard shaft of cool air against her damp, heated skin. “My cock is gonna sink into you like a sword into its sheath, then take you to heaven. Can you feel me sliding in and out o’ you? Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t walk, can’t scream, can’t talk, can’t think … can’t remember your bloody name.”

Buffy jerked when the air tickled over her wet, hot, sensitive skin like a ghost. She could feel his words as they began to crash down on her, and her whole body stiffened in anticipation. A wave of molten desire sent her tumbling over the edge, and behind her blindfold everything went red.

Flames danced in her vision as her body surrendered to Spike’s taunts and promises, imagining him doing all those things to her. Buffy’s body shuddered and the throbbing in her loins gave way to a pulsing constriction as she came, hard and deep. She screamed out as visions created from Spike’s words flooded her mind with all the sensations she desired, and her body experienced them as if they were all happening at once.

She shook her head back and forth, trying to get the towel off. She felt like she was suffocating in the flood of bliss. It was at once frightening and exhilarating. She pulled on the restraints around her wrists, but they would not give, even as her body continued to convulse in pleasure.

The moment her scream had faded to gasping, desperate breaths beneath the towel, Spike’s mouth closed over her clit and sucked down hard. Buffy’s body jerked again, spasming under him as another burst of flame washed over her. Then his fingers were inside her, pumping, thrusting into her hard and fast while his tongue teased and tortured her clit, and Buffy’s scream returned. She had no idea where she’d found the breath, and didn’t care, as Spike lifted her higher and higher on wave after wave of orgasmic bliss.

Her pussy rippled and gripped at his fingers as her hips bucked and jerked against him. Her arms pulled against the hard, cold metal of the handcuffs and she could feel them bite into her flesh – but she didn’t care. She was flying on a rocket of passion, higher and higher and higher yet. Nothing mattered in that moment except that it not end.

With some effort, Spike pulled his fingers from her contracting quim and pressed her legs up and out even further than she’d managed. Before her body even stopped quaking, he slammed his hard, aching cock into her. It was like taking a virgin: her supernaturally-strong, yearning, shuddering muscles clutched around him, stopping his advance.

Buffy screamed again – a mixture of pain and pleasure – and Spike roared in frustration, his demon surfacing. Buffy’s body arched up into him, her hips lifting up to his as she thrashed against the restraints and her own orgasmic contractions.

“Fuck me! Damn it, Spike! Do it!” she screeched at him, desperately wanting to force his hips against hers.

Spike growled again, pulled back, and slammed into her again with vicious, demonic need. Buffy yelled out a litany of curses as he penetrated her, hard and deep, her body thrashing beneath him in painful pleasure.

Spike yanked the towel off her face and crushed his lips against hers. Buffy returned the kiss with just as much passion and ferocity as the demon above her was bestowing on her. Her tongue thrust between his lips, past his razor-sharp fangs, to do battle with his.

Spike’s hips slammed against her as their bodies fused into a dangerous, primal dance as old as life itself. His cock struggled against the constricting, shuddering walls of her vagina, which seemed to want nothing more than to pull him in and devour him in her passion.

Buffy growled against Spike’s lips, needing to be free of him so she could breathe, but he didn’t seem to notice and didn’t give way. She felt her lungs begin to ache for oxygen and her body responded by jerking her hips up against Spike even harder. If she was gonna die, she was gonna die happy. The lack of oxygen sent her senses reeling out of control. Primal need took over – not just for the life-giving air, but for the burgeoning volcano of bliss that just kept rolling over her, engulfing her in its passion, rocketing her higher and higher into the fiery sky.

She needed to breathe. She needed to scream. She needed to burn on the surface of the sun. She needed Spike to burn with her, to melt with her, to never stop.

Spike’s cock slammed into her, his demon powering him to take all the Slayer could give. His mind had given over to his needs, his urges, his basest desires, and he took and took and took. But it wasn’t enough – the demon wanted his due too. Spike pulled his mouth away from Buffy’s lips with a rumbling growl and in no more than a single instant, his fangs sunk into her hot, salty skin.

Buffy gasped for breath, then gasped in pain, and finally screamed in pleasure as Spike’s fangs invaded her. His demon sucked at her jugular, draining her life for itself.

All of Spike’s most instinctive, primal needs were in control: the need for sustenance, the need to procreate, and, yes, the need to give the woman he loved – the woman that was his everything – all he had to give – to take her to heaven.

Buffy slammed into the surface of the sun so hard she felt all the air leave her lungs. The flames danced over her, burning her with need and passion and heavenly bliss. And then Spike was there, holding her, touching her, kissing her, melting into her. He pulled her up and twirled her around as they danced in the flames that threatened to reduce them to little more than glimmering motes of dust. She laughed a wild, crazed laugh as they waltzed over the coals and embers, twirling and spinning, merging and parting. As they danced, the flames slowly dwindled and the sun bowed its head in deference to the lovers. They were too strong for it to completely engulf … they were the gods of their passion, the creators of their own universe.

“God, I love you, Buffy,” Spike murmured against her neck as he licked and suckled her wound gently, closing it. "Never known anyone like you."

Buffy’s chest heaved in gasping, desperate breaths. Her legs were wrapped around Spike’s hips like a vise. His softening cock was still buried deep inside her, held prisoner by her legs and over-trained pelvic floor muscles. She could feel their cool cum sliding down her heated skin to form a pool beneath her. She blinked her eyes open when she realized that her arms were also wrapped around his back, her hands caressing the soft skin and hard muscles there.

She held one hand up and looked – she’d broken the chain that held the handcuffs together. She shook her head and laughed lightly. Those were the strongest handcuffs they’d been able to find short of using the old dungeony-shackles that they kept in the weapons chest.

Spike lifted his face and looked into her eyes. “My strong Slayer … no holdin’ you is there, pet?” he asked, a tinge of pride and awe in his voice.

Buffy shook her head. “Not when you don’t keep your promises,” she chastised, her voice low and rough – barely a whisper past her strained vocal cords.

Spike raised his brows as he snaked his arms under and around her shoulders, his body resting against hers, her soft curves molding to his hardness perfectly. “Reckon you found heaven a few times t’night, pet.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, pouting. “But you said we were going around the world. We only made it two-thirds of the way and now you’re all …” she let her voice trail off and squeezed his flaccid cock where it still remained inside her velvet sheath.

Spike bit his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes at her in a lecherous, cocky leer. “Just ‘ad me some super-Slayer ‘go-juice’, didn’t I?” he asked, seductively tracing the red marks on her neck with a finger. “Just give us a minute and I’ll get ya around the world, pet. No worries – I’ll have ya screaming again in no time,” he assured her.

Buffy grinned up at him, her eyes glittering with mischievous lust.  “That’s what I love about you, Spike: you always keep your promises.”

THE END.

**~**