Title: True Blue
Length: ~3,000 words
Summary: Something Blue with a twist. Because we all know if Willow hadn’t Will-Be-Doned them into engagement, they were totally going to angry-kiss anyhow. Warnings for debatably-dubious consent and smut. Seriously, no nutritional content.
Thanks to the_moonmoth for her thorough and thoughtful beta! You can thank her for the very important Rope Continuity.
Also, thanks to teragramm for the sweet new icon (swiped from her post today)!
Xander watched helplessly as Willow paced. God, he hated when his friends were at odds. Not that he minded a little girl-on-girl action in theory, but in real life he’d found it to be a lot less sexy and a lot more uncomfortable than popular culture promised.
Plus, Anya was supposed to be coming over tonight. Which would also likely be uncomfortable, but much more with the sexy. At least if Willow got through her thing so they could be alone.
“…I mean, I’m going through something. You’d think every once in a while, Buffy could make best friends a priority.”
He put as much reasonability into his voice as he could muster. “You know, Will, it’s not like she could just let Spike go…”
“Spike’s more important than me. I get it.”
“Buffy’s gotta find out what’s up with those commandos. Right now, she needs Spike!” Wow, if ever words sounded wrong together, those were them. Buffy needing Spike. How gross was that?
Willow’s face was just as disgusted as Xander’s thoughts. “Well, fine. Whatever. Buffy should just do whatever she wants. If she needs Spike, she can have him.” She continued to pace.
Xander sighed. It was going to be a long night.
Buffy gave Spike an extra-hard shove through the door, just because. God, he just got her so riled up. Her entire body was quivering with adrenaline; she could feel it all the way down to her fingertips.
“Hey! Watch it!” He spun around to confront her, standing tall despite the ropes wrapped around his chest.
Buffy faced him down. “One more word out of you and I swear–”
He thrust out his chest challengingly, hands fisted at his sides. “Swear what? You’re not going to do anything to me. You don’t got the stones.”
“Oh, I got the stones. I got a whole bunch of…”
Spike raised his eyebrows, challenging.
“…stones,” Buffy finished lamely.
“Yeah? You’re all talk.”
Buffy raised her voice, pitching it to reach the next room. “Giles! I accidentally killed Spike! That’s okay, right?”
Giles mumbled some sort of reply, but Buffy was more interested in the way Spike’s eyes were flaring. She shoved Spike down into a chair, roughly.
He glared up at her, eyes even hotter. “I get this spell reversed, they’ll be finding your body for weeks.”
Buffy leaned in closer, quivering like a bowstring. “Oh, make a move. Please. I’m dying for a good slay.”
His face was only inches from hers, jaw set and eyebrows knitted, and then he made a move – or maybe she did, she wasn’t quite sure – and the distance between them disappeared, and then his lips were hard and angry against hers.
Oh god, they felt good.
She broke away for a moment, staring at him; he was staring back, chest heaving with shock, eyes naked and terrified.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
“Mutual,” he growled back.
And then his eyes narrowed and hers did too, and she took his shoulders and shoved him against the chair back, sinking down to straddle him as she took his lips again.
He kissed like he fought, reckless and all-out, like he didn’t care if it would be the end of him, which Buffy dizzily thought it very well might. She let her hands slide up his shoulders to cup the nape of his neck, feeling his hands curling behind her knees, and she fought back, gasping against his cool lips as they clashed. He tasted like sin and felt like heaven, his tongue gliding against hers like she was the cream filling of a Twinkie, and the thought made her press closer, savoring.
The rope wrapped around his chest was rough against her breasts, even through the double layer of her jacket and shirt; she arched into the delicious friction as she kissed him, vaguely noticing that her nipples were hard, and then his hands tightened in the crooks of her knees, tugging her closer, and oh, that was even better, his hard chest against her, and she moaned into his lips, and then he gave another tug and oh god, that was the best yet, the feel of his cock as she ground into him, he was deliciously hard and she wanted him, she wanted him…
“If the two of you could remain civil long enough to…”
Buffy shoved herself off Spike’s lap, stumbling backwards. Giles was blinking at her, perplexed, and oh god, what had she been doing? She looked at Spike, whose face seemed just as horrified as she felt.
“Um…” She turned back to her watcher, who had transitioned from vaguely-baffled to sheer disbelief. “You know, I think there might be a spell on me.”
Having secured Spike to the chair under Giles’s watchful-if-uncertain eye, Buffy curled up in Giles’s recliner, very studiously not looking in their prisoner’s direction as Giles stammered out a request into Willow’s answering machine.
What the hell had just happened?
It had to be Willow. Willow had to have done something, because the tingles that were running up and down her body as she thought of how Spike had felt beneath her, the hot red haze over her vision when she looked at him, all tied up over there, the completely insane visions that were running through her head involving Spike and her and a lot less clothing – they had to be a spell, right? There was no way this was normal.
Giles came back into the room, rubbing at his eyes. “Now, Buffy. Explain to me again…”
“It’s a spell,” Buffy said firmly. “I bet your eyes-thingie is a spell too. Totally spellsville around here. Probably Willow again.”
“What you want is a general-reversal spell,” Spike said in a bored tone of voice. “That should take care of anything that’s… not quite right.” He looked at Buffy sidelong, eyes unreadable.
Giles walked slowly over to his bookshelf, barking his shin on a footstool. “Bloody…. Haven’t cast a general reversal in decades.” He frowned at the spines of his books, as if he had forgotten how to read.
“Better brush up on them,” Buffy sighed. “Seems like the sort of thing we’re going to need a lot.”
Giles hesitantly selected a volume, pulling it off and riffling through the pages. “There it is. Requires kosher salt, sage…” He squinted at the page. “Ah, damn. Taggis root. Been out of that for ages.”
“Want me to go to the store?” Buffy was all in favor of getting out. The room was just way too hot.
Giles remained silent for a long moment before slapping the book shut. “Yes, I… I rather think you should.” He turned to face the wall, addressing it with great seriousness. “I seem to be rather… rather blind. Completely, in fact.”
“So,” Spike said casually, flexing his biceps against the rope, hands roughly shoved in his pockets. “Explain again why I need to come with you to the bloody magic store?”
“Because,” Buffy said firmly, for what had to be the seventh time. “Giles can’t guard you if he can’t see anything. I know you remember that that’s how you escaped just a few hours ago.”
“Right.” Spike ambled along a few more steps before he apparently decided he wanted to die. “So, Slayer, about before, when you were rubbing your ti-”
“Shut up!” Buffy hissed, glancing around the street. Which, as it turned out, was a smart move, because wasn’t that Riley strolling down Main Street? Dammit dammit dammit. What was he doing here? Didn’t he have a picnic to plan or a drive to drive or some other boring, bland, Midwestern kind of thing to do – and Buffy totally had not just thought that, or that other thought, the bit about how she bet he kissed like that too instead of like Twinkies and sin, because Riley was a totally nice guy, the kind of guy she knew she should want to kiss. A really normal, clean-cut, all-American guy.
He so wasn’t going to understand why she was walking down the street with a tied-up,obnoxious guy trailing behind her. Especially when she wasn’t even entirely sure why she was walking down the street with a tied-up, obnoxious guy trailing behind her.
Cursing under her breath, she yanked Spike off into the nearest alley, shoving him roughly into a doorway and pressing herself in after him, eyes frantically watching the street, totally not noticing how it felt to be pressed all up against Spike, chest to chest. She was absolutely not paying attention to the way her panicked, heaving breaths were – completely coincidentally – rubbing her nipples up against his hard, smooth muscles, or the groan he let out when she shoved him harder against the door.
She did, however, notice when his hands landed on her ass, pulling her closer still.
“Spike!” she squeaked, eyes rolling towards the mouth of the alley. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Helping you hide from that Teutonic bloke,” he rumbled, and, well, okay, that sounded reasonable, so she let him press her closer, eyes trained on the street, and when Riley finally meandered by – geez, for such a tall guy he sure walked slow! – she heaved a sigh of relief and got back down to business.
Which was to say, kissing Spike some more.
She grabbed his head in both her hands and pulled his face down to hers, letting out a desperate whimper when his lips finally met hers, and then his hands gave a heave, tugging her up to where she could wrap her legs around him and she writhed against him, muttering nonsense into his lips until he spun them out of the doorway – for a guy with a rope wrapped around his chest and arms he was pretty nimble! – and up against the brick wall, grinding into her hard, which felt oh my god good… and then he stopped, the delicious friction gone in an instant.
She was about to protest when she felt his hands on the button of her slacks, tugging it free and then yanking impatiently at the zipper and she thought dizzily that maybe he was going to touch her there, which was okay by her – darn that spell she was obviously under! – except he kept on tugging until her slacks were down around her thighs, then her knees, which seemed like a bit much until he fell to his knees and gave her a long, hard lick, right there, and she screamed. Or it would have been a scream if her vocal cords were in functioning order, but apparently they had gone on vacation with her good judgment and her common sense, leaving nothing but Buffy and her hormones and a really annoying vampire who apparently was totally on board with oral sex.
Also, really damn good at oral sex. Like, holy crap.
Also, Buffy just went right ahead and wiped the words “oral sex” out of her vocabulary because they were totally inadequate for whatever Spike was doing down there. His hands were clutching at her knees – which seemed to be the highest he could reach because rope – guiding them wider and his tongue was doing things Buffy was sure no mortal tongue could do and she was making noises she would have sworn she was incapable of making, and then he did something super evil and she went as blind as Giles for a moment, thinking hazily oh, so that’s what it’s like! before her muscles regained function and she gave a tremendous heave, sending Spike tumbling back onto the pavement, where he lay looking up at her like she was the sun about to set him on fire.
She glared down at him. “This is the stupidest spell ever.” She started to wriggle the rest of the way out of her pants.
He glared right back up. “Bloody right it is.” He managed to work his hands around to the fly of his own jeans, popping the button.
“I am so going to… have firm words with Willow,” Buffy sniffed, finally managing to kick her slacks off one leg — good enough — and stepping forward, her feet on either side of Spike’s hips.
“Yeah,” Spike muttered, tugging at his zipper. “Girl needs a good talking to.”
Buffy fell to her knees and helped Spike with his zipper, wrapping her fingers around his cock. “Later,” she promised, and then she slid up and he planted his hands on her ass again and they both thrust together and oh god he was inside her and she was already out of control, striving against him hard and fast, hearing her own heartbeat thrumming in her ears as she panted and whimpered, and there, there it was again, she could feel it building and she curled down into Spike, pressing her sweating forehead into his shoulder as he urged her on, whispering words that might have been harsh endearments if they didn’t hate each other so much, until she gasped out her release into his throat, going limp as he swore and thrust harder, harder, finally convulsing beneath her.
Buffy floated in languorous bliss, pressing absent kisses along Spike’s collarbone, gratefully thinking, thank god this is all just a spell.
Spike was nuzzling into her hair, hands lazily stroking the curve of her thighs, and she belatedly realized he was still tied up, the rope a hard ridge against her chest, and then she gave a little wriggle of her hips, and realized he was also still hard inside her, and also that he still felt really good inside her, and moreover that the spell or whatever was apparently not satisfied, because those little micro-thrusts he was doing were already getting her riled up again.
“This is wrong,” Buffy whispered raggedly into Spike’s throat.
“Horribly wrong,” Spike agreed, thrusting harder.
“Don’t stop,” Buffy moaned, arching back, presenting his breasts for his hands, because oh god she needed him to touch her. When he missed his cue to do so, she glared down at him.
He lifted his eyebrows, hips jerking against her. “Sorry, love. A bit tied up.” He demonstrated by running his hands up her body as far as he could reach. Not far enough.
Buffy rolled her hips against his a few more thrusts before deciding that this was something that needed remedying. “I’m tying you up again after we… after,” she muttered, shoving the ropes up his body.
Spike answered with his hands tearing at her jacket, shoving it off her shoulders, and then his hands were up under her shirt, fingers shoving her bra up to pluck at her nipples as she rose and fell above him, which was almost what she needed, and then one of his arms snaked around her back and pulled her forward far enough he could catch a nipple between his teeth, and that was a lot more what she needed, and then the hand that no longer had a breast to fondle slipped down between them and started to stroke her just where they were joined, thumb pressing in while his cock thrust up and his lips sucked hard and that was absolutely what she needed except she needed more and more and she wasn’t sure what happened next except that she was gasping and possibly screaming, out loud this time, and then somehow they were wrestling, slick and hard and hands and fingers and then she was on her knees and he was still inside her, thighs drumming against hers, the pavement hard beneath her but she didn’t care, it was all the same, she just needed more more more and he was giving it to her, and then she convulsed around him, and he convulsed inside her, and they were all convulsey together and then all boneless together, and then she noticed vaguely that the pavement was, indeed, kind of hard.
And, oh hey, they were in an alley that just about anybody could walk by, and they were also half-naked and slippery with sex, and she had a sneaking suspicion they had also also just been really, really loud.
Good thing it was so late and all the businesses were probably closed and….
“Giles!” She wriggled out of Spike’s grasp to a standing position, staring down at him in vague horror.
Evil thing that he was, he rolled over onto his back and lifted an eyebrow. “You know, I always wondered about you two…”
“No, not Giles… this…” Buffy squealed. “Giles… magic shop… closing…. Get dressed! I need to tie you up!”
Spike eyed her bare legs. “Ladies first.”
Buffy had to concur.
Of course the magic shop was already closed, but by the time Buffy managed to get herself and Spike looking less-walk-of-shamey and shamefully walk back to Giles’s place, Xander and Anya were already there with more news about Willow’s horrible spell, and then there were conveniently a whole bunch of demons to deal with, providing just enough tussle that Buffy felt her dishevelment was plausibly deniable, and then Willow showed up and took care of the whole thing, and it was totally over.
Totally over, Buffy repeated to herself, trying not to look at Spike as she nibbled on a cookie.
Now that he wasn’t under constant attack by demons, Xander was in a merry mood, laughing about how Willow had said he was a demon magnet. (Anya didn’t seem to find it quite so funny, from the looks she was giving Willow.)
“So!” Buffy said brightly when Xander paused to eat a Cookie of Remorse. “What did Willow say about me? Anything about, you know, lusty wrong thoughts, or falling in love…”
Xander frowned around his cookie. “Well, she wasn’t happy about you going after Spike. But I don’t think she… No, wait, she said something about… doing whatever you want?”
“Whatever I want?” Buffy squeaked. Spike’s eyes met hers over Xander’s shoulder, narrow and speculative.
“Oh yeah, and she said if you needed Spike, you could have him.” Xander waved a hand in Spike’s general direction. “And, well, you caught him, right? So, I guess that part worked out really well.”
“Oh.” Buffy flickered another sneaky glance at Spike; he raised his eyebrows, eyes laughing. “Yep, I guess so.”
She ate the rest of her cookie in silence.
“So!” she said when she’d wiped the last of the cookie crumbs from her lips. “Guess I should be heading back to the dorm. Studying, tests, all that.”
Willow frowned in confusion, about to put another cookie sheet in the oven. “But Buffy, tomorrow’s a Satur-”
“Gotta hit the books!” Buffy interrupted. “Plus, super sleepy. Yawn!”
Xander nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I guess a night wrestling demons can kind of wear you out, even if you were lucky enough not to be stuck in Willow’s spell.”
“Yep!” Buffy said brightly. “Lucky one, that’s me. Always getting lucky.”
She was almost to the door, when she paused, then sighed. Damn. Damn damn damn.
“Giles?” she said casually. “Did you need me to take care of anything before I go? Reshelve your books, chain Spike up again….”
“Oh!” Giles looked up from the tome he had been lovingly caressing since he’d learned he could read again. “Yes, that would be quite…. Not the books, please, heavens no, but Spike…. Please do take the time to make sure he’s secure.”
“You betcha!” She hauled Spike up from his chair, meeting his hungry eyes fully at last. “I’ll take my time taking care of Spike.”
And she did.
Endnotes: This is a side effect of having just written a really, really USTy scene for In for a Penny – kind of needed to write something with a little more S and a lot less U. (Moony gently vetoed my idea of scrapping our carefully crafted plot and jumping straight to the smut. Which, to be fair, was the right artistic choice…) Hope you enjoyed!
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/591190.html