7. Warm Up
The shiver that went down Spike's spine in that
moment had less to do with the cool metal against his room-temperature
skin than with the enticing suggestion in the Slayer's softly spoken
words. She waited silently for his answer, her arm resting across his
shoulder, the cuffs swinging slowly from her hand, brushing against his
already highly sensitized skin – as he weighed the decision.
He had been with other women before – but never had he been with anyone
who could rival the passion, the fire, the raw reckless need, of his
gorgeous golden Slayer. The idea of yielding himself to her so
completely – deliberately placing full control in her hands, and
allowing her to quite literally have her way with him was a thrilling
thought – but also frightening.
His instincts recognized what his heart, his body, wanted to deny –
that submitting himself to the Slayer in this way was reckless,
dangerous, and potentially deadly. His demon roared his protest at the
idea of such submission, placing himself at the mercy of his mortal
enemy.
Of course, he reminded himself quickly, it wasn't as if he would be in
any *real* danger. After all, if the handcuffs in her hands were his
own, or anything like them, they were a cheap, lingerie shop toy – no
match for his vampire strength, easily broken if he wanted to – as
easily as Buffy could have broken them the night before, if she would
only have yielded to him then.
Not to mention the fact that Buffy would never actually hurt him.
Would she?
His thoughts were interrupted by her quiet, calm voice, still carrying
a note of hushed seduction, as she went on softly, "Now, before you
make up your mind – there's something you should know." She paused, and
he waited breathlessly, as her empty hand slowly ran up and down his
chest, in soft, feather-light caresses that only fanned the raging
flame of his need.
"These handcuffs are enchanted," she informed him, her hands stilling
for a moment when she felt him tense in surprise – or fear? – at her
words.
Realizing that she had sensed his reaction, he deliberately relaxed his
shoulders, taking a deep breath or two to steady himself, as she went
on, "They won't break like ordinary handcuffs, no matter how strong the
person wearing them is. They will only open when the person who puts
them on you..." She paused, leaning in to whisper, so near that her lips
brushed his ear, "...and that would be me, Baby..." She drew back slightly
to continue, "...takes them off."
Moving back, raising her voice again to a normal level, but still with
a dark, sultry note to it that sent a fresh shiver of mingled desire
and apprehension down his spine, she finished, "So once you put them on
– you're mine, Spike – until *I* decide to let you go..."
His stomach dropped, and his throbbing member jumped slightly, in his
reaction to her words. So the Slayer was raising the stakes a bit, was
she – so to speak? He quickly reconsidered, his mind racing with the
possibilities that this new bit of information raised.
It made no difference, he told himself. He trusted her. So what if the
power she would be wielding over him would be just a bit more real than
he had originally thought.
But, unbidden, darker thoughts came to his mind. How many times had
Buffy threatened to stake him? How many times had she told him that she
should have done it a long time ago, or told him that she wished he was
out of her life for good?
Was it possible that she might use this little game to accomplish that
desire? She wouldn't do something like that to him – would she?
*No,* he reassured himself firmly. *She wouldn't.*
Because in spite of the fact that she despised him, looked down on him
as the thing beneath her that he was – despite the fact that she did
not want to want him...
She *did* want him. More than that, she needed him. He was the only one
she had been able to turn to in the past few painful months. She could
not destroy her one source of comfort in the darkness that her world
had descended into.
She *loved* him...he knew it. Even if she did not know it yet. But she
would – eventually. That was what he kept telling himself, what he kept
insisting in the quiet, dark moments when she had left him alone, like
she always did in the end. Through the tears that streaked his face in
those times, he would tell himself over and over that she *did* love
him – she did – and in time, she would come to see it.
But the question of the moment was – just how determined was she to
prove to herself that she did *not* love him?
And in the next moment, his decision was made.
It was simple, really.
He had a choice – to yield himself to whatever she had planned for him
for this evening, to give himself to her and place his pleasure, his
well-being, his very life in her hands for her to do with it what she
would...
Or to refuse – and give her the justification that she was seeking, the
excuse to deny that there was any beauty or goodness to what they
shared, and walk away and leave him forever.
It was a simple choice, really.
Did he trust her -- *really* trust her – not to take advantage of this
power she was asking him to give her, and use it to destroy him?
It didn't really matter.
He would rather be dust at her hand than to spend the rest of his
unlife without her.
" 'M already all yours, pet," he replied quietly at last. "You know
that."
The poignant emotion in his soft voice smote Buffy's heart with a fresh
pang of guilt. For using him for all these months, when she knew that
his feelings went so much deeper than hers – for treating those
feelings so callously at times, even if she did not share them...
For what she was about to do...
"Just checking," Buffy replied, her tone forcedly light. "I mean – this
is quite a risk you're taking...I just wanna be sure you know what you're
getting yourself into. For any vampire to place himself at the mercy of
a Slayer – well – that's pretty dangerous..."
"Not this vampire, not this Slayer," he replied with a confidence that
sounded convincing, whether he felt it or not. "I trust you, Buffy. I
told you already." He paused, before adding with a smirk, "Several
times. Are you trying to convince *yourself* I don't mean it? Cause
you're soddin' well not gonna convince *me*!"
Her hand on his chest stilled for a moment, and he knew that somehow he
had struck a nerve with his words. Then an instant later, her hand was
back in motion, sliding down his chest, and further, resting for a
moment on his hip before sliding inward.
He gasped, his back arching slightly as she leaned in close again, her
voice soft as she replied, "Not trying to convince anyone of anything,
Baby...just wanna be sure you know what you're doing..." As she spoke, her
hand came to rest a bare inch above the base of his erection, and her
thumb moved slowly in a rotating gesture that sent a new flood of
sensation coursing through his body.
"Bloody hell, Slayer!" he gasped, his head falling back slightly,
overwhelmed with his desire. "If you think I'm backing out *now*,
you're out of your bleedin' mind!"
The soft, throaty chuckle that left the Slayer's lips then sent a
little shiver of desire and apprehension down his spine with the
realization – she had him right where she wanted him, and she knew it.
He was hers.
"No," she agreed quietly, her hand rising from where it lay low on his
abdomen, and moving to clasp his wrist in a gentle but firm grip.
"You're not." She paused for a moment, lowering her hand from his
shoulder and bringing both of his wrists behind his back. "Not now,"
she added, locking them into the cuffs.
He felt a sense of mingled apprehension and expectancy at the metallic
click of the cuffs around his wrists, and instinctively tested their
strength. The Slayer was not bluffing; the weak metal that should have
broken under his vampire strength was unyielding.
Suddenly, he felt Buffy's soft, warm hand come to rest on his, twisting
slightly in the cuffs, still searching for a weakness in them without
even realizing he was doing it -- and he froze, waiting to see what she
would do next. The Slayer's hand moved from his, and then he felt her
hands on his shoulders, moving down his arms, leaning in and pulling
him closer to her at the same time.
"So tense," she murmured softly, before her lips fell on his throat in
a tender kiss – but he could feel the little smile on them just before
she spoke again in a whisper. "Scared?"
He shook his head. "No," he replied immediately. "Not of you. I trust
you, Buffy." He paused for a moment, considering before speaking his
next words, a slow smirk coming over his own face with a flash of
insight. "But I'm beginning to think that *you* might be."
He felt her completely freeze behind him, and knew that he had hit on
the truth. "What?" she whispered, and he could hear a subtle note of
defensive anger in her voice.
"Why are you trying so hard to get me to back out, Buffy?" he asked
her, smiling openly now, a teasing note to his voice. "Way I see it,
you've got me right where you bloody want me. Problem is – maybe you
don't know what to do with me!"
He could almost hear the Slayer's jaw drop at his bold audacity in the
face of his situation. "Yes, I – I most certainly..." she sputtered
defensively, only confirming the suspicions he had stated.
He laughed, knowing as he did that he was only further incensing her.
"Right...that's why you're dragging it out so, right, love?"
"I'm not dragging...I...ooh!" the Slayer nearly growled with the
frustration that he prided himself in knowing only *he* could bring out
in her. He could picture her struggling to regain her composure – and
then he could picture the forced smile on her face, as she fought to
stay calm and in control, as she stopped touching him and moved around
to stand in front of him.
"I don't know what to do with you, huh?" she echoed, her voice
trembling slightly, though much calmer now, and he could almost hear
the tight smile, see the furious flames in her defiant green eyes.
"Looks like I'm gonna have to try to figure it out then, aren't I?"
That dangerously seductive note was back in her voice, and he felt a
stirring within him, driving his desire higher. Still, he kept his
expression mildly mocking as he agreed, "Looks like, don't it, love?"
He loved being able to get the better of her, even when she should have
been in complete...
"Bloody hell!" he gasped, his thoughts forcefully scattered as he felt
a small, hot hand fist around the base of his erection, pulling him
firmly closer to her, and a bit off balance, without the use of his
hands to catch himself.
Her thumb rested beneath his member, at the very base, and began to rub
in a slow, intense circle that made him draw in a sharp, shuddering
breath, his knees buckling slightly beneath him. Quickly Buffy caught
his arm, holding him up, keeping him from collapsing on the floor right
there.
She leaned in close to him, her hand still wrapped around him, too
tightly to be comfortable, but not tightly enough to be painful, as she
whispered in a tone of amusement and triumph, "How'm I doing? Getting
warm yet?"
"God!" he gasped. "Buffy!" He was gasping for breath, incapable of any
other speech by this point.
And she had been touching him for all of five seconds.
"Come on," she ordered brightly, suddenly ending the work her hand was
doing for the moment, with a startlingly sharp tug on his manhood in
the general direction that she wanted him to go – toward the bed,
though he had no way of knowing that.
Through the powerful sensations she was causing him – he didn't really
know much of anything at the moment.
"Bloody hell, woman, what are you *doing*?" he moaned, stepping quickly
in the direction she had pulled him, alarmed at the momentary sharp
sensation.
But she quickly released her hold on his erection the moment he started
in the direction she was leading – not even she was *that* cruel –
opting to lead him by the arm instead, and giving him a much needed
break from the intense touching that was swiftly reducing him to a
babbling, desperate wreck.
"I'm not really sure," she replied with a shrug, her tone teasing and
self-satisfied. "Figuring it out as I go along, I guess." She stopped
him when they reached the bed, turning him around to face her, so that
his back was to the bed, leaning in close to his ear, her hand playing
affectionately through his hair as she whispered the confiding
question, "How am I doing so far?"
He could not even form a response, still trying to catch his breath.
Buffy, however, seemed satisfied. She nodded as she said, "Good. I
think that's enough of a warm up." He could not see it through the
blindfold, but her emerald eyes held a wicked shimmer as she gently
took his shoulders and pushed him down to sit on the bed, pushing him
back a little before straddling his lap, drawing another gasp from the
vampire's lips at the feeling of her heat so very close to his
throbbing need.
Smiling, Buffy leaned in to kiss him again, her lips, her tongue,
tenderly caressing his trembling, gasping mouth, before pulling back to
murmur softly, "Let's get this party started, Baby."