7. The Victor?
WARNING: For those of you easily squicked, this
chapter and the couple to follow contain descriptions of
semi-to-non-con sexual activity...the next few chapters will be the
darkest part of this fic (which is really not that dark, IMO)
Also, just for those of you anxiously awaiting who the winner of this
match will be, I have just two words:
ASSUME NOTHING!!!! :)
And with that, happy reading...hope you enjoy it! :)
Buffy watched, her heart pounding with adrenaline, her fear swallowed
up in the triumph of her trick, as Spike righted himself from the
dizzying blow, all the more impactful as it was completely unexpected.
She mentally congratulated herself as he stared at her incredulously,
the expression in his eyes shifting as she watched, from confusion --
to shock -- to disbelief -- and finally, rage.
"You bloody *bitch*!" he roared at her, lunging for her in his fury.
She easily side-stepped him as he had done to her before, trying hard –
and mostly successfully – to keep her mind on the battle at hand, and
not on the brief but amazing interlude she had just shared with her
opponent. She had been surprised by the evidence of his arousal, as he
had held her pinned to the wall -- but even more surprised by the
responding desire it had awakened in her.
In that moment when she had realized that he wanted more than her blood
or her defeat, her mind had flooded with memories of previous kisses,
embraces, all taking place while under Willow's spell -- and then, as
his mouth had descended toward her throat, without really knowing why
she was doing it -- she had kissed him.
Yes, she knew that she did not want him to bite her, and kissing him
made for a very good distraction. But she could just have easily
"distracted" him with a knee to the groin, instead of the tender kiss
she had chosen. She was trying to keep from admitting it to herself,
her mind racing with wonderings even as she kept her eyes focused on
her enemy, but the truth was, she had kissed him -- simply because she
wanted to.
Afterwards, she could hardly believe what she had done. She felt a
sense of shock at her own boldness, as well as at the feelings that
that single kiss had evoked. But the fact remained that she was still
face to face with a master vampire whose ultimate goal was to make her
his submissive little slave -- never mind the fact that the whole thing
had been initiated by her to begin with -- so she had taken the
opportunity that had presented itself -- and pretended that she had
planned it all along.
And now, invigorated by her small triumph, she was in full-on
slay-mode, her mind racing several steps ahead in the fight, shrewd and
calculating – she felt absolutely unstoppable. However accidentally the
situation had come about, she was beginning to think that she could
make pretty good use of the situation, after all. Spike seemed to be
every bit as angry as she had been before, over his insulting sexual
comments -- too enraged to concentrate fully on what he was doing.
And she fully planned to use that to her advantage, and press it as far
as she could.
"What did you expect, Spike?" she sneered. "That I would just fall at
your feet? 'Oh, yes, Mr. Big Bad Evil Vampire! I'd *love* to be your
simpering little sex slave!" She scoffed at him. "Right! Like that'd
ever happen!"
The furious vampire came at her again, incensed by her mockery of how
he had fallen for her ruse. There was a low, menacing growl deep in his
throat as he spoke in a voice that still trembled with anger, but was a
bit more controlled than moments before.
"Bloody right it wouldn't! A sex slave has to have at least some idea
what she's doing; otherwise she's not worth it. And *you*, Slayer," he
sneered. "are *not* worth it!" He paused. "No," he went on. "I don't
think I'm going to waste my time. I think I'm just going to drain you
dry!"
Buffy felt her temper rising, but this time she knew what he was doing,
and she fought it back. She had learned her lesson the hard way, and
she had no intention of letting him get to her again like he had
before. No, at the moment she was all about making *him* lose his cool
-- and make a crucial mistake.
"Maybe you'd better wait to make any judgments on that until you can
speak for yourself," she suggested with a predatory smile. "Just give
me a few more minutes," she shrugged, her eyes glittering dangerously
in the dimly lit room. "and you can tell me yourself whether or not I'd
be a waste of your time!"
Her sudden burst of confidence was vaguely unsettling to Spike. He
could see a difference in the way she was fighting, speaking,
responding to his barbs. It was as if she realized that she had
underestimated him to begin with, but now she was doing battle on a
whole different level, anticipating his movements more quickly – using
every bit of the skill and power of the chosen warrior that she was.
He realized that this made things considerably more difficult, and he
would have to be at his best as well if he wanted to get out of this
free and undead, but he still determined not to let her see that she
was getting to him.
"Right," he drawled with a derisive smirk. "I think I can live
without knowing, pet. Honestly, I'm really just not that interested.
No, I still think killing you is my best option." As he spoke, he
lunged at her again, aiming a fist for her face.
"I don't think you've *got* any options, Spike," Buffy laughed as he
lunged at her again, and she dodged out of his way at the last second,
causing him to pass her, grabbing his arm as he did and using his own
momentum to sling him into a pillar a few yards away.
She kept her own movements calm and even as she sauntered toward the
slightly disoriented vampire who was pulling himself to his feet,
bracing himself on the pillar that she had so thoughtfully positioned
behind him. "Pretty soon," she went on with a smirk, "your only option
at all is going to be to make -- me -- happy!"
With those words she came at him again before he had time to recover,
attacking him with a series of powerful punches, keeping him trapped
between her and the pillar, and not giving him enough time to get in
any blows of his own. He felt a rising sense of alarm at the fury and
power of her assault, which seemed to be increasing with every blow.
When she stopped, he was holding one arm across his ribs, struggling to
straighten back up. She did not give him time to, moving in quickly
with a brutal backhand punch that knocked his head back into the wall,
followed by a roundhouse kick to his stomach that dropped him to the
ground, breathless.
"Guess I picked up a trick or two from you, after all, Spike," she
smirked, a strange almost feral gleam in her glittering green eyes.
"Don't give your opponent any breathing room. Thanks for the lesson."
He came to rest on his knees for a moment, still dizzied by too many
blows to the head, and watched her warily as he struggled back to his
feet as quickly as he could, only to lean back against the pillar for
support, gasping for breath. She moved in closer, her eyes narrowed
with a dangerous, predatory light as the Slayer closed in on her prey.
"My pleasure, pet," he gasped out finally, giving her a cool smile in
spite of his apparently bad situation. "Got one more lesson for you,
though."
"Oh, yeah?" she smiled coldly, her expression and tone saying that she
was quite confident by this point in her ability to end this fight
quickly. "What's that?"
Instantly his breathless gasping ceased, and he raised his head,
meeting her gaze with a sharp, predatory smile. "I don't *need*
breathing room," he informed her softly, delivering a lightning fast
punch to her face that knocked her back a bit, then moving away from
the pillar and spinning around to land a vicious kick to her back that
dropped her to the ground on her stomach.
Buffy fought off panic, allowing her deepest instincts to take over,
rolling onto her back with her arms out defensively in front of her,
her fists ready, just as Spike leapt upon her, struggling to pin her to
the ground and subdue her.
It was the thought of submission that infuriated her on some deeper
level. She was more than just a girl being attacked; she was the
Slayer, the Chosen One. She was strong, powerful, and more than capable
of defeating any enemy that came her way.
With these thoughts that flew through her mind, and a fresh surge of
adrenaline born of her desperate situation, she suddenly felt a rush of
primal power coursing through her body, and she knew -- *knew* -- that
she could win this.
Spike was laughing, holding her arms down across her chest, a
triumphant gleam in his eyes. Her eyes widened when she realized that
the fight had him more aroused than ever – and then narrowed in outrage
and defiance. He saw her reaction, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction
as he slowly ground down against her once, leaning down to whisper near
her ear.
"Still think I'm bloody neutered, Slayer?"
She gasped at the sensation of her body's automatic reaction to his
touch, and the low, seductive tone of his voice. Once again, she was
stunned at how badly she actually *wanted* his touch.
And yet, she felt an overwhelming sense of rage overcome her, her inner
Slayer rebelling at being touched in such a dominant, overtly sexual
way by the demon that she had come here to wrestle into submission.
With a quick upward thrusting motion, she slammed her elbow up into
Spike's chin, snapping his head back and making him loosen his grip on
her, and then took her advantage to reverse their positions, straddling
his hips and gripping his wrists, pinning them over his head.
He fought to free himself from her grip, finding it difficult with the
lack of leverage, but his wrists still edging up from the ground in her
hands as he tried, their arms locked together trembling with their
combined effort. Her face was mere inches from his, her sparkling green
eyes narrowed in a calculating look, somewhere between menace and
seduction.
When she thought back on it, Buffy would not immediately understand
what had possessed her to do what she did next. She was not even aware
that she was going to do it as she went into action, her body moving
with the impulses of her inner Slayer, as opposed to those of the
naïve, self-conscious girl that she was most of the time.
Much to the surprise of her opponent beneath her, Buffy began to slowly
bear down in a circular motion on his bulging erection, some powerful,
primal instinct telling her that this was the way to overcome the
creature she was striving with – to place him at her mercy.
She smiled in sly satisfaction when he gasped, throwing back his head
involuntarily, his struggles against her restraining hands weakening
for a moment and his wrists falling back to the ground – as the Slayer
in her had known that they would. "Hmmm," she murmured, a throaty sound
that was almost a purr as she leaned down so close that her lips
brushed his ear. "Maybe not."
"I – don't..." he gasped out, trying to come up with a coherent
statement, stunned and overwhelmed with feeling as the Slayer brought
his wrists together over his head, holding them with one hand, freeing
the other to slip down to the front of his jeans, slow, expert fingers
rubbing around the head of his erection, driving his desire even higher.
Spike struggled to make himself think through the powerful sensation of
the Slayer's hand and body against his, moving not like a
self-conscious, inexperienced college girl, but like the most dangerous
siren he could imagine. He knew she was luring him to his doom.
Still, he could not resist her.
Still – he tried.
"No," he whispered. "Stop..."
Instantly Buffy ceased all motion, raising her hips up off of her
rather incapacitated quarry, resting on her knees, hovering over him,
moving her hand up to grip his wrist again, as she leaned up close to
his face, kissing his throat a couple of times, slowly, seductively.
She pulled back, her voice a low husky murmur, to whisper, "You want me
to stop?"
His body ached with the loss of her touch, which had both eased the
agony of his need and driven it deeper into him. "No," he gasped almost
without meaning to. "No...don't stop..."
The Slayer's low, predatory laugh sent both chills down his spine and a
rush of heat through his body, at the intentions that that laugh
betrayed. Her hand obligingly returned to his aching erection, stroking
him firmly through his clothes, and he left out a low moan of pleasure.
There was a reason why he wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. Why
wasn't he supposed to be enjoying this?
It did not seem to matter. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the
sensation.
Buffy leaned down close to his ear, her hot breath sending a shiver
down his spine as she whispered in a gloating tone of triumph, "You are
making this so...easy..."
His eyes suddenly snapped open, her words bringing the gravity of the
situation back with blinding clarity. Buffy realized her mistake when
his struggles renewed in earnest, and he managed to jerk one arm free,
backhanding her off of him with a powerful blow and landing quickly on
top her again.
His eyes were still hazy with his need for her – but he did not mean
for that to be a problem for long. His slow smirk spread across his
face, even as he tried to catch the breath he did not need, looking her
in the eye to say softly, "You almost had me there, Slayer."
She smiled back up at him lazily, her demeanor unshaken by the reversal
of their positions. "Who says I still don't?" she countered.
"Gotta say," he said with a little half shrug, gripping her wrists in a
mimickry of the position she had held him in. "You've just about
changed my mind pet. Don't know if you're worth a second go – but I'll
take a first."
The Slayer's smiling eyes narrowed and darkened dangerously, and she
raised her knee quickly between his legs – not too hard; after all, she
didn't want to ruin the rest of her plans for the evening – but enough
to be painful against his over-sensitive manhood. He gasped in pain,
and she felt his grip loosen on her.
It was enough for her to break it, slamming her fist across his face
again, and toppling him back off of her. She grabbed him again, pinning
him down before he could recover, and then rubbing her thigh roughly
over his erection, causing him to groan with mingled pain and pleasure
at the contact.
She leaned in close to whisper in his ear, seeing the effect she was
having on him and taking her chance, "Had enough?"
He fought to open his eyes, gradually bringing them to focus on her in
a lascivious grin as he gasped out, "Hardly, love."
The Slayer felt a surge of anger at her power being defied, and
increased the pressure slightly, watching as his eyes rolled back
slightly just before he closed them. "I think you have," she smirked.
"You know you've lost. I win. Just say it."
He did not open his eyes, light-headed, panting for breath by now, but
his smile still returned as he whispered, "Never, pet. Sorry. And you
can't win – if I don't – say it." His words came out in gasps for air,
but still held an infuriating note of triumph.
She knew he was right – and it enraged her. The main point of the whole
exercise was for him to acknowledge her authority. She could beat him
and screw him six ways to Sunday, and if he refused to acknowledge her
– it would be meaningless.
"Well, then," she said with a cool smile. "I guess you'd better start
talking, hadn't you?" As she spoke, she applied more pressure with her
knee, eliciting a soft moan that could have been of either pleasure or
pain – or both. "Say it," she whispered in a harsh, demanding tone by
his ear, jerking her knee up harder, while still careful not to do any
*real* damage. "I win – right?"
She was surprised – and elated – when the vampire beneath her nodded
slowly. She froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. Was he really
conceding defeat? Had she really won so easily? "Right?" she repeated,
wanting to be sure it was not just a fluke.
"Right," he whispered, nodding again. "Right."
The stunned, elated and disbelieving college girl came to the forefront
for a few moments in Buffy's excitement, still not comprehending
completely what had just happened, only that she seemed to have come
out victorious.
*I won? I really won?* she thought with joyous disbelief, as she backed
up and climbed off of her conquered foe...
Completely missing the almost imperceptible soft smile that crossed his
lips.