Title: Open All Night Author: kindred Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns these characters lock, stock and profitable barrel. Rating: NC-17 Feedback: Yes, please! I am happy to receive it. Summary: Sequel to "No Vacancy". It takes place in S3 in Sunnydale. Have-itch-will-travel Spike visits Buffy...they enjoy an entrée of truth, but it comes with a side order of consequences. 3. Morning slowly crept over the neighborhood. The sun's rays stretched across Buffy's empty bed. Her room lay in a disheveled state, strewn with debris from a night of unrestrained debaucheries. Books fallen from the bookcase lay forgotten on the floor beside a broken lamp base, articles of black clothing, silken pajama pants and cumbersome motorcycle boots. The bed looked pulled almost to shreds. A crisp thudding sound trailed in from the hallway. Spike thrust solidly into Buffy, pressing her against the wall. Her moans vibrated through his body. Two weary combatants struggled with fatigue and their own inexhaustible need. Buffy's arms flung haphazardly over Spike's shoulders while her haggard knees sank down his legs. His attentions were persistent but measured. The growling fury that had occupied them for hours had filtered down into an almost respectful reverence. Neither party wanted to cease the glorious sensations yet both were near collapse. Buffy's body, sweat slathered and quivering, refused to concede. She'd lost count of her orgasms. Her lower abdominal muscles ached with a dull pain. No amount of training or sit-ups or demon fighting had ever clenched those muscles like hours of furious sex had. Spike snagged her right knee in his elbow and stretched her upward. His fingers soon found the curve of her ass and delicately circled her sphincter. It was like a bucket of cold water to Buffy. Her mind cleared as her eyes widened. "Don't," she warned, her voice coarse from vocalizing for hours. "You'll like it," his voice lulled. "No, I won't." His finger kept circling. "Don't fuss, love, nothing goes in there unless you want it." God, those words alone made her want it. The night had been spent being repositioned, spread, bent, balanced, even upside down, and all the while his voice whispered and conspired; showing her the way. Darkness is a seductive mask. It holds truths unspoken and unspeakable. It folds fear and desire into its enveloping arms. It listens to prayers and promises, confessions and blasphemies. It witnesses indescribable betrayals and honored fealties, the kisses of Judas and of Eros. The night was her conspirator, releasing her passion completely. The cover of darkness was a convenient substitute for free will. Buffy was sure of it. Come morning she would snap out of it and return to her life. Spike would fade back into the corner of her room like he wasn't there at all. Morning arrived slow and sure and Spike was still there, his voice still soft and dangerous; his pleasures still searing the edges of her consciousness. Buffy's mind tried to juggle the immediate situation. Shower, breakfast and school and Spike nibbling her neck. God, that felt so good. How come that felt so good? He was a dangerous thing with a particularly dangerous mouth. A creature who was her enemy should not be nibbling-- God, that tongue. Buffy attacked Spike's lips with the last remnants of her strength. If nothing else she would defeat that tongue. "Stop," she whispered breathlessly as the kiss subsided. "I've got to go to school, Spike. I need a shower." "So go shower," he kissed her temple gently. "Um, kinda pinned against the wall here." "Hmm, I don't know. If I try to pull out your lovely slayer muscles are just gonna hold on." She clamped tightly around his cock at that suggestion. She had an evil body. It obeyed Spike's dictates and not hers. "Stop doing that!" Buffy pushed weakly against his chest. "Prove me wrong." That was the wrong thing to say. Buffy-head was already lathering up in the shower, washing off all trace of vampire scent while Buffy-body was clinging to Spike's cock like a life preserver. He began pulling out slowly but she really wouldn't let him go. "That's just evil..." Buffy barely had breath to complete that sentence. "You say the sweetest things, Slayer." "That's some vampire hypnotism thing," her tone was one of accusation and her eyes uncertain. Some explanation was needed to rationalize her body's betrayal. "The thrall?" Spike's eyebrows rose with incredulity. That old chestnut. God, what books were these people studying anyway? "Yeah, that thing. You thralled me." Spike jerked her body upward, clasping his hands under her bottom. Buffy shifted herself to assist him, splaying her knees widely to the sides. He could almost pity her obscured thinking. Almost. What was going on between them was pure chemistry of undead boy meets girl. Not quite a cliché yet, but it explained things just fine. "Slayer," Spike chuckled easily, "the thrall is more a literary invention; something to explain our preternatural charms." Buffy snorted her disagreement but it was hardly effective. There she was, exhausted from her own urgent desires as well as his, entangled in his sinewy embrace and swollen from the intensity of his preternatural charms. "Believe me Slayer, if it was real I would have fucked you rotten that first time we met...in the alley behind the Bronze?" His hips picked up the pace again. "Just watching you dance for me made me so hard I could hardly walk." Buffy's irritated retort that she wasn't dancing for him or anyone was lost in a deep purposeful thrust. "In fact love, truth be told? We'd probably still be in that alley fu--" "Geez, get over yourself." Buffy's clipped response sounded her annoyance, but she made no attempt to free herself. His word play was as intoxicating as the sex stuff. "The actual experience is simply the connection between a vampire and his or her lover." "Okay, definitely NOT the thrall then." Spike smirked at her stubborn reply. Buffy had a near pathological need for obstinacy. It was such a turn on. "That's right, pet, no connection here." He squeezed her ass firmly and slammed into her with a tremendous thrust. She could say it as many times as she wanted but her body told him the truth. Buffy cried out in exhausted sensation. "You are an ego-maniacal monster," her voice strained. "Just get the memo, did you?" His thrusts returned to an aggressive pace as his fingers found her distended clit again. "Stop," she complained, "I can't come anymore. I can't..." Spike responded to her complaint with a giggle. Buffy's spine straightened and her voice lowered in anger. "If I'm late for school, Principal Snyder will give me detention and then I'll come back here and take it our of your ass." Spike climaxed at the end of that sentence. He buried his face in her neck once again and spurt forth forcefully inside her. In complete denial of her previous statement Buffy held on as yet another haphazard orgasm shook her body. His accompanying growl permeated her sated body but he did not morph or attempt to bite her. He eased her down the wall even as she clung to him and balanced her on her feet. Yes...standing and walking, I remember you. "Do NOT come into the shower." She warned as her head cleared. "Who's going to wash your hair then?" "Been doing that for myself for years." "I need a shower too." "Then wait your turn." "It'll save water pet, and we are in a desert here, despite the abnormally treed streets of Sunnydale." Logic. Evil, undeniable logic. That stupid Mr. Spock had a lot to answer for. "All right," Buffy conceded with a sigh. "Give me a minute of privacy first." She shut the door and attended to urgent business. The toilet flushed and she opened the door again. "Don't try anything, I mean it." "I'm not a bleedin' machine, love. I do need to recuperate." Spike waltzed into the bathroom looking very pleased with himself. "Yeah, yeah," Buffy complained, "tell that to my pussy." "Oh Slayer, say that again." "Shut up, Spike." The shower began to flow. * Buffy turned off the hairdryer and checked her face. She applied some cover up to a chin pimple, mascara and lip gloss. When she left the bathroom she found Spike leaning up against the wall. "Why are you still in a towel?" "Look in your room." Buffy glanced into her sun soaked room. "Oops. Just a minute." Buffy hurried into the room and closed the window, the blinds and the curtains. "Okay, no more scary sunshine." Spike ambled in and threw aside the towel. "Don't joke, pet. The sun's one bitch you don't bloody joke about." He tugged on his warm jeans. "I suppose you'll want to sleep here." At that moment it didn't seem like such a bad idea. The sun was up and Spike was obviously tired. "Didn't plan on going anywhere else." His arrogant tone raised her hackles and her hands to her hips. "Presume much?" "Only this," Spike grabbed her and kissed her. His lips moved aggressively over hers and then his tongue invaded her willing mouth. It was an act of presumption and proposition rolled into one. Need and want counterpoised with purpose and intent. Synchronous urgency rekindled. Buffy's towel slipped from her body. "School Spike." The words launched weakly from her throat. He kissed her forehead and stepped back, turning to the bed. He straightened the whirlwind tangled sheets and lay down to watch her dress. She did so quickly, aware of his critical gaze upon her body. Buffy felt a blush of modesty that made no sense considering what they had done in the last few hours. She blinked her gaze away from his half naked body casually draped on the bed and grabbed a pair of white bikini panties and a lace bra. She chose faded jeans and a red camisole and sweater set. Having completed dressing she evaluated her look in the mirror. "Do I look like I've had sex for hours?" It was a legitimate question. She asked the mirror instead of turning around. "Look? No. Smell? Yes. And your voice is kinda fuck rough, you know, with all the moaning and growling you--" Buffy's brow furrowed with annoyance. "Ew, don't say that. That's gross and perverted and..." Totally true. Her scratchy voice betrayed her. There had been some sounds of a growly nature. "Oh Cinderella, need your glass slipper, do you? Hang on a tick, I'll just need to suck your come off it first." "You're a pig, Spike." "Could be...but I know how to make you squeal." He had a comeback for everything. Spike annoyed her like nothing ever had before. They battled like obstinate preschoolers, both unbowed and belligerent. Two scowling countenances hid the truth. This was a rivalry they both enjoyed. She turned to leave the room. "Slayer." Buffy looked at Spike. He held out something in his hand for her. "You going by a store, pet?" Her expression clouded once more. "I'm so not your personal shopper, Spike--" "Just a few necessities is all." Buffy took the shopping list and scanned its contents: condoms, lubricant, and an enema kit. What the-- Oh, Jesus. Her eyes bulged. Spike got up from the bed and stood beside her. He held out some bills. She was shocked to see currency in his hand; shocked further to see the items scrawled on the list. "Spike." She rolled her eyes in an effort to appear unmoved by the naughty, naughty plans Spike had for her. "For new games," he whispered thickly in her ear. "I know you'll like them. I'll make sure of that." Spike's hands slipped around her waist and claimed her ample cheeks. He kneaded her ass and dipped his fingers down her tight denim cleft. His lips found her ear. "Your bum has been driving me insane, Slayer. We're gonna expand your horizons, love. It'll be so good. You'll howl at the moon when I'm done with you." Buffy blinked and tried to moisten her parched lips but her tongue was heavy and dry, a suddenly cumbersome obstacle in her mouth. Her burdened swallow and half hiccup were met by his familiar but not derisive giggle. His knowing leer nailed her as he scented her body's returning arousal. She felt a tickle between her legs. He was going to go there. That place. Buffy couldn't feel her legs. She felt only his confident hands on her ass and the hard promise of his arousal pressing into her abdomen. She forced her jaw shut to keep from drooling. That was the weird part. She wasn't a drooler, but Spike had a way of undoing her. Undoing everything. Making her want something she'd never really considered before. "You think about that all day at school, pet. When you come home we'll have us a time." He kissed her nose and released his hands. Buffy gulped and left the room, a look of stupefaction on her face. Spike listened from the second floor as Buffy grabbed her school bag and left the house. He smiled knowingly as she struggled with the key in the lock. The feeling returned fully to Buffy's legs a block and a half from her house. English and chemistry were going to have a difficult time holding her attention this day. tbc...