Spike knew that he should walk away. He knew he should go back up to his room and blast music until she had been fucked into silence. He knew that nothing good could from grabbing the back of her neck. Knew he would regret tilting her head up. Knew that if he kissed her, things could get really, really ugly. But none of that stopped him.
Their kiss was as hard and angry as their words. She clutched Spike’s hair and kissed him hard, trying to force him to back down. He did not. With one hand, he grasped the back of her neck, the other arm wrapped around her waist. They tried to punish each other with the contact, increasing the pressure until Spike realized hazily that bruises were probably going to form by morning.
His hand snuck down and gently caressed her ass, a marked contrast to the brutal force of his mouth against her. It was high and firm, and nice rounded. He cupped and kneaded it until she moaned and writhed against him. He pulled her short robe up, and was delighted to feel her bare skin. The little harlot had come out to fight him in nothing but a haphazardly tied silk robe.
Spike liked it.
His fingers moved lower, between her legs, into the warm, wet skin. She was so hot and excited, her clit pulsed against his finger. She gasped and moaned, and a bit of her anger melted away. B that point, Spike couldn’t even remember why he was angry. Something about noise? Whatever, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was her hot, tight little body.
He tried to drag her up the stairs to his apartment, but they stumbled and got distracted by each other. Spike spun her and pushed her against the railing. It creaked beneath their weight, but neither one of them noticed.
Lost in the moment, Spike only had one thought. He wanted to taste her, in her most intimate of places. He wanted to lick her and devour her until she screamed. Without warning, he kneeled before her, lifted her robe, and buried his face between her legs. He licked her fiercely, and her fingers curled tightly in his hair as he tongue lifted her higher and higher.
Each stroke was precise. He spread her lips open and covered every inch of her. He teased and caressed her clitoris until she squirmed and begged for more, then he backed off and let her cool down, before diving in again. He kept this pattern up until she bucked against his face, pleading and begging with him not to stop, threatening him if he did.
Tremors and shocks swept through her, and Spike face was drenched with her juices. He stopped and looked up at her with sexy blue eyes, casually wiping his face. She stared back at him, awed and dazed. They stared at each for several seconds, as their brains tried to sort what just happened and make logical sense of it.
Buffy pulled him to his feet, and he waited for her to slap him, or push him away. He really wouldn’t be surprised if she did, though he would be very disappointed. He was so hard; he needed to be inside her. Licking her and touching her made him feel like he could come in his pants.
She didn’t hit him or push him away—she shoved him against the wall and unzipped his pants. She pulled his cock out and caressed the wet, wet with pre-cum. She massaged him until he was gasping, and then with an evil glint in her eye, she let go and stepped back.
Panting, Spike pushed her down onto the steps. She laid back and spread her legs, and he kneeled between her legs. Buffy was uncomfortable with the sharp edge of the stairs shoving into her back, but she completely forgot about any discomfort when he finally pushed into her aching body.
There was no control, restrain, or finesse with his rhythm. He thrust into her wildly, only worried about ending his own torture. She was equally unconcerned with any sort of control, and she let everything completely go. Finally, when she was screaming, it didn’t piss Spike off. It just increased his pleasure, and he was determined to make her scream louder.
With the screams echoing in his ears and her pussy tightening around him, he came hard and fast. He rubbed her clit until she bucked and he felt her orgasm shake her body.
Spike left her on the stairwell, not even bothering to put do up his pants. He didn’t look back either, but he heard her stand up, retie her robe, and move down the stairs. She slammed the door so loudly it echoed down the hall. Spike smiled and slammed his own door.
That night, there was no more noise coming from her room. But when it happened again a week later, Spike didn’t mind. Instead, he relaxed and enjoyed his memories.
