Our story continues with more naughtiness and blood play. This story has been nominated in the latest round of the Love's Last Glimpse Awards for Best WIP and Best Angst. *Squee!* To the kind reader who nominated me, I say thank you! It's a tremendous thrill. 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. 9. The base of Buffy's neck tingled with a sensation she could have sworn hummed in her ears. She stretched out her arms and legs across the bed and collapsed with repletion. Thoughts floated beyond her ability to care. Now, was that such a bad thing? Was she supposed to be all tense with the mystical balance of the weight of the world every damn minute? This felt so much better. Carefree was definitely the way to go. Supernatural tenseness always upset her tummy and she suspected that it was the culprit behind her dry skin patches as well. She purchased a dry skin formula moisturizer now. She used to be normal to oily, but lately she'd been flaking. Joyce suggested a visit to the dermatologist. Yep, that's what she got for saving the world on a regular basis: a dermatological imbalance. She rolled onto her side. He'd bitten her again. Was that the secret to this decadent feeling? If biting was so bad why did she feel like this? Unraveled. Soft and slippery. Sinfully exquisite. This needed to be addressed. Perhaps biting should be off limits. She'd give him a talking to when she figured this out. Maybe she'd need to use her fists. Another round of fucking wasn't going to be ruled out either, because she needed answers, damn it! This felt so good. Floppy Buffy puddled on the bedspread wasn't such a bad thing. Buffy mentally evaluated her options. Spike floated in a glut of sensation. Every dead nerve in his body chimed in response to his exertion and his continuing hunger. Buffy's breaths lengthened beside him, coming down from the heights and returning to the solid ground. Lazy with the taste of her blood in his throat, Spike lay painted with the sheen of her sweat burnished on his body. The demon also lay quiet for the time being, his soft belly exposed, open for anything. Was this contentment? Warm pleasures for a cool, dry body made parched over decades of inventive perversions. Spike thought he'd reached contentment with Drusilla a few times. When she was stuffed with fat children and wearing some new shiny dress he'd stolen for her she almost reached contentment. But what was that but a shadow play in a charnel house? This slayer afforded him a feast of gluttonous pleasures. Just being near her like this was decadence itself. What did she know of true impiety? Of sin? She would never be damned; sullied perhaps, because her path was a difficult one, but never damned. This girl held a flame in her eyes as well as her body. She made him think of dangerous things. She made him reconsider love. She made him want it. Afterglow is a bitch. It seduces a mind to wander down hazardous avenues best avoided. No man or vampire should be held responsible for the random thoughts that trickle through his fuck addled mind. "Spike--" Too soon. Conversation was not welcome. "Not done yet." With a snarled interruption he swept down her body and off the edge of the bed to his knees. Spike reached over and grabbed her hips bringing her toward him. Before Buffy could even squeak in protest his face was wedged between her spreading thighs; his mouth covering her dripping aperture. A soft rumbling rose from his throat and vibrated through her tissues. Buffy's head rolled on the bed as she grabbed at the bedspread. This was a perfectly viable option too. "Slayer." Buffy struggled to her elbows, looking windswept and drowsy. It was an arousing sight to look down her body and see that face between her legs. "Watch me." Spike held her gaze and swept his tongue the length of her vulva. He added a tiny muscular pulse to her overly sensitive clitoris. It made her knees jump. "You watching?" Spike stared at her, his chin smeared in her juices. Shiny chin Spike was adorable. It was all she could do to nod. Blinking was stalled for the time being. "I like how you taste." Another slurping lick lolled over warm, living skin pulsing with blood and oozing salty secrets from deep inside her body. His eyes returned to her tissues. Buffy's eyes did not waver once. Her unruly knees wandered wide open and then closed again, opting for motion instead of stasis. She watched his progress with fascinated self interest. Her hips started their own response curling a steady tempo into his mouth. Soon her fingers sliced into his hair, holding him in the preferred position as her mound ground against him. Another climax accelerated and burst. Buffy's shaky voice rose and shattered into gasps and pleas. "Yes! There! That's it. Right there...unghh...Spike..." The tone of her sexual release was too much. Spike would rather have had a shower before anything vaginal commenced, but he couldn't wait. He tore open a condom and rolled it expertly down his length. With a groan he swept Buffy's hips upward and her weight onto her upper back. "Hold your bloody knees," he ordered roughly and plunged his cock between her swollen folds. Deep, merciless strokes produced a steady tempo of breathy responses as his intensity pushed the breath from her lungs. Spike stood with his thighs against the bed. He didn't dare get any closer. The taste of her blood mixed with her come was an overwhelming aphrodisiac. His eyes bore into her throat as surely as his fangs would have. He held back his demon with inhuman fortitude. The beast foamed at the mouth in his mind, wanting his connection again too, needing it. "Like this," he spoke with growling agitation holding her knees together firmly. The tightness of the new position was plenty diverting. Buffy's experimental squeezing of his demanding cock brought Spike's attention back to the point of their joining. "That's right...yeah...squeeze me. Oh...just like that." A hard, determined glint shone in his eyes. "I'm gonna fuck the daylights outta you." "I'd like to see you try." Her saucy response was unexpected to say the least. His attention flew back to her face and her remarkably defiant smirk. The girl was flirting with danger. In other circumstances that expression would have demanded he fly at her with a full fanged assault. These circumstances demanded alternative methods and weapons. "Think I can't do it, do you?" "Talk is cheap, Spike...anhhh!" "See who's all sassy now. Congratulations, Slayer. I think you've gone and bloody well motivated me." Spike stood by the side of the bed plowing into her body. He was particularly good standing up. His own rising climax dissipated into a hip churning resolve. No one out-fucked William the Bloody -- not prancing Angelus and his laundry list of kinks, liquid Drusilla with her relentless pursuit of pain, nor even the whore to end all whores, Darla, who praised Spike's abilities lavishly for Angelus' sullen ears -- certainly not this wispy chit of a slayer with her kittenish allures and velvety, vice grip furnace of a pussy. He would not be defeated by her whimpering mewls nor her rasp of naked need. He would not be defeated, period. Buffy struggled for breath. Constrained as she was with her thighs against her chest and his not inconsiderable weight bearing down, Buffy's breath thickened in her suddenly crowded throat. His oratory continued at a furious pace as she concentrated on filling her lungs with air. Words that should have shocked and angered her did neither. They did fuel her desire for exactly what he was doing, taking her with raw, near brutal intensity. Buffy's senses shook with the extreme activity. Sight and sound careened together. His words collided in her ears, assaulting her. "Should have done this months ago. Taken what I wanted, what I knew you wanted. Thrown you up against the nearest crypt and fucked you senseless." His hips churned now with demonic purpose. The bed frame began to squeak in protest. "Sweet, tasty little Slayer. I thought about this, you know. Dreamt about it. Drove Drusilla to distraction over it. She knew I wanted you like this...knickers off, feet in the air..." Spike grabbed the back of Buffy's knees and spread her wide for his furious and continuing onslaught. Buffy cried out at the pace of this pummeling assault. His voice took on a deep, gravelly intensity. "Yeah that's right, fucking just like this...like the right savages we are. Take no prisoners, ain't that right, Slayer? We take what we want, you and me. What we need." "Spike!" Buffy could not fathom how Spike could talk and fuck at such a frenzied pace. All she could do was blast out a syllable or two. She raised her hands to his shoulders, clawing at him, wanting him nearer. Something was surfacing within her, the strongest urge, a near insatiable compulsion...but for what she wasn't exactly sure. "You like it, don't you? Like this...raw and rough and pure. You like me deep inside you, stirring your darkness. Making you face it, making you scream..." His words sank into her mind like knives through warmed butter. Her darkness? Merely a witness to what was happening in her body, she felt him stirring up the sediment of her slayer soul. An urgency beyond sexual need seeped into her gut, flooding her body with sensory sparks. Incongruent thoughts swirled in her mind. Unlit passages opened before her. Left or right? Did the direction even matter? Buffy plunged through darkness, accelerating toward an unknown destination. Spike's voice bled into her own thoughts. Suspense boiled over into fevered anticipation. His voice, her thoughts. Taking what she wanted...what was hers for the taking...Yes! That was what she felt. Spike. She wanted Spike. Deep, dark and driving...taking her someplace she desperately wanted to go. His musculature danced in her sight, twisting and turning, giving her such pleasure. Buffy looked into that blue eyed abyss and wanted nothing more than to fall and fall and fall. That was no longer the face of an enemy but her own determined reflection. Spike's gaze receded from the tumult. His eyes spoke straight to her soul. Whispering yes. Wanting yes. Waiting for... "Yes!" Buffy wailed a primal blast and sank her fingertips into his biceps, pulling him off balance and onto her. Again instinct overruled and the beast took his prize. Spike sank his fangs into the spot where the Master had desecrated his Slayer, replacing that abomination with the insignia of his urgent regard. At that moment the fractious cacophony within them both suddenly ceased. Buffy felt a faint tickling as she held him tightly. Her heartbeat thundered on his tongue, through his body and then echoed back into hers. A blood connection. A blood recognition. This felt right. No shoulds, or ifs or maybes; inexplicably, this felt right. For right now and right here, for these two beings tempered by an unspoken isolation and loneliness, it felt right. Dizzying exhaustion spread through her mind. Buffy concentrated on merely blinking. Two heavy and uncooperative eyelids hindered her. Spike ground out his own desperate orgasm. Deep hard thrusts accompanied her shrill gasps of waning energy. He gave her his all, exhausting himself into the bargain. Finally he rotated half off of her. She saw the rise and fall of his hard chest. An unnecessary movement for a vampire, but Spike was scrambling to make sense of his teetering thoughts. It was completely understandable. The damned aren't meant to reach the summit and taste the promised land or even look upon its sunny shores. The sweetest of nectars are not meant for them. Buffy turned her face and gazed at his demon profile with neutral fascination. He looked wicked to be sure, but no longer cruel. When had that happened? Spike lay in a daze, failing to expand long dead lungs with each halting breath. Spiraling thoughts with no fixed destination navigated a lazy path through Spike's mind. A spontaneous giggle was not what he was expecting. "That was neat-o!" Buffy gushed with breathless glee. It was a childish but sincere response. Spike rose slowly to one elbow and with care licked away the traces of her blood and watched the small wound close, too content to even contest her school girl reaction. His mark now. Not the Master's. His. On her flesh. On her soul. His. Neat-o? Was that the best she could think of? It was sublime and majestic and intimate and just what he'd been starving for. And yeah, he'd have to admit, a bit neat-o too. Spike slumped onto the bedspread with a sigh of exhaustion. Buffy turned on her side and propped her head up on her palm. He was still in full face, blinking dumbly at the ceiling. Buffy's gaze draped down his body, limp and boneless now except for one spot. His cock was still hard, still clad in a condom, yet listing to one side. What was the name of that famous leaning tower? Buffy thought it was Pizza. Pizza? Yeah, the Leaning Tower of Pizza, right here on her bed. Soon the reality of the situation reasserted itself. Drawing her fingertips over his not one, but two bites sent shivers of pleasure through her. Okay, time for the talk. There's no way she was going to be Swiss cheese Buffy. "What's going on, Spike?" "Fun, pet. A bit of fun." He tried to sound calm, to cover the truth. She was marked. Easily identified. It was a done deal. "What? You don't like having the daylights fucked out of you?" There was the smirk right on schedule followed by its dancing partner, the incredulous eye roll. "Fun? You bit me. Twice." She had some inkling of this behavior. Giles pointed her in the direction of a few relevant texts when she inquired about this in a round about manner. Giles saw it as step in the right direction, her return to Sunnydale and a new interest in research. Giles did oblivious quite convincingly. "Yeah, um...kind of improvising there, pet." He lied with embarrassed ease. Overly zealous would explain it. Buffy wasn't buying. "Spike. I know what it means when a vampire does that during..." She paused as a shadow of modesty drifted across her face, "you know...the sex." Smart little kitty. She read Giles' book. There were three carefully annotated chapters on bonding, marking and mating with extensive footnotes regarding the differentiation of bites. "Well this time it didn't mean anything." Spike stuck with lying. For the moment it was easier. He didn't want anything to crowd the unadulterated joy of this feeling. A dedicated hedonist, Spike knew the depth and breadth of every physical sensation invented and quite a few still unimagined. And yet, this girl left his head spinning in a tangle of lust, greed and gluttony. She left him washed ashore and gasping on a new and uncharted frontier. He had no compass or map. It would not surprise him if the stars themselves had reconfigured in the impenetrable silken sky. "Just chalk it up to annoying enthusiasm." His smile was quiet and assured. No need to muddy the waters with foolhardy leaps off golden skinned precipices. "Spike," Buffy tried again. Spike silenced her with a feathery soft kiss. Smooth, creamy custard Spike lips. Soft as goose down lips. "We've kinda gone beyond the planet of hate, huh Spike?" He looked at her with a half grin and kissed her nose in response. "You need a shower. And don't you have to patrol? Aren't the streets of this town choked with all manner of evil creatures? Because that's the way I remember things. Lots of villainous wankers up to no good I'd reckon, what with the Slayer late for her appointed rounds..." Buffy glanced at the clock, 9:36 p.m. Didn't she just get home from school? "I suppose, but you need a shower too. You're leaking." Buffy pointed to his slowly descending shaft. Seminal fluid trickled out at the base and pooled in his pubic hair. "Hey, you want to come with?" She missed the double entendre in her earnest attempt at an invitation. Patrolling, however, wasn't exactly uppermost on Buffy's agenda. A game of tag among tombstones sounded wonderful. They stood up from the bed and wandered around the corner into the bathroom. She was easy with him now. Spike could hardly believe it. They were actually having a conversation. It was a sobering development for them both. "Sorry, love. Got some business to take care of." He followed her into the bathroom to clean up. * Buffy was half way through the cemetery cheerily whistling and bouncing with animated delight when she stopped. Her thoughts careened into a brick wall with a resounding splat. Some business to take care of? Yeah right, and she just fell off the turnip truck. She knew exactly what kind of business Spike had to take care of. He was feeding. Some innocent person was under his fangs at that very moment. Never before had she been so happy to see such an apparently healthy and well muscled vampire. It jumped out from behind a large crypt and tried to scare her with a gaping fang snarl. The stench from its breath was staggering. Buffy looked up at the neckless wonder. "Hi there. I'll bet you've played some football in your time, huh big guy?" "MVP three years running, Slayer." It slobbered the words with arrogant resolve. This one reeked of that God's-gift-to-women strutting peacock crap that the football team at school took for social élan. "Good. I hope that means you'll at least give me your best effort." Buffy eschewed her stake for now. She was pissed and primed for a fight. Unfortunately, Mr. MVP wasn't much of an opponent. She was still unsatisfied when the dust formerly known as vampire billowed into the air. The coughing fit that accompanied her triumph did nothing to improve Buffy's mood. tbc...