Note: Um...this is NC-17. I mean that's kind of the whole point...

Buffy found herself at a complete loss for words. Up until that second she hadn’t even realized that her clothes had vanished. She looked down at her suddenly nude body with an almost comically astonished expression on her face. She head jerked back up only when her Slayer sense belatedly warned her ‘ultra-pissed off Master vampire closing in fast.’

She instantly found herself pinned to the wall, an equally naked Spike holding her firmly in place. However, her most immediate concern was the fact that he was sporting his game face and looked as though he was going to kill her in an instant.

“Cemetery…saved her…brought me here…clothes vanished…don’t know.” It really was an incoherent stream of gibberish. However, it managed to demonstrate her complete and utter confusion quite nicely.

Spike – somewhat surprisingly, Buffy thought – dropped out of vamp mode once he realized that this wasn’t some deliberate attempt on his life. After all, curiosity killed the vampire…er, cat…

“OK, Slayer,” he said in a slightly exasperated tone. “Care to repeat that with some sort of logical grammatical structure this time?” His icy gaze held her just as firmly as his body.

Buffy decided that just this once it was probably best not to provoke him. He really did look quite pissed. And she was woefully unarmed.

“I was out slaying,” she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I saved this weird woman. She grabbed onto me. I couldn’t break away. She brought me here. I have no idea where my clothes went.” She paused to take a breath between each of these sentences and intentionally left out the part where she had ogled him naked and fantasized about him. She may have just been captured by her archenemy naked on the floor of his bedroom, but she still had some dignity left, right?

Spike raised one eyebrow skeptically. “That’s the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard,” he snorted slightly. “You honestly expect me to believe that?”

“You think I could make up something that non-sensical?” Buffy retorted. He gave her an incredulous look at the easy set-up she had just given him. “Uh…don’t answer that,” she quickly amended.

“Don’t take orders from you, Slayer,” a characteristic smirk was now playing across his full lips, and there was an indisputably evil glint in his eye. “Believe you, though. Want to know why?” His sapphirine orbs pierced her own hazel ones, demanding that she play his little game.

Given that she couldn’t move, she didn’t really see that she had a choice. “Why?” she dreaded to ask.

“Because not even you are desperate enough to fling yourself around like this. Oh wait,” he paused and pretended to think for a second, “you already did.”

That was it! Buffy suddenly found herself not quite as well pinned as she had originally thought. Her right hand slipped from his grasp, and before he could react, a strong hook to the face sent him stumbling backwards.

“Pig!” she screamed, aiming her foot straight for his stomach.

Unfortunately, he’d recovered his senses by this time and easily sidestepped her kick before lunging at her.

She managed to spin at the last second and stuck out her foot as he passed by, sending him falling to the floor. Instantly, she tackled him, placing her knee squarely in the center of his back to keep him down and twisting both his arms behind him. She began to deeply regret her lack of a weapon.

“What’s the matter, Slayer?” he hissed, struggling beneath her. “Why don’t you use that stake you’ve got permanently shoved up your a—”

She slammed his head hard into the floor before he could finish that statement. The damage caused by the blow was somewhat lessened by the carpet, though. And she had had to release one of his arms to do it.

He managed to use the opportunity to pull her supporting knee out from under her, and as she fell he rolled with her.

Her breath was knocked out of her for a second by the sudden weight of the vampire’s body pressing her down into the rug. She gasped, and the motion caused her body to press upward, smashing soft round breasts into his hard cool chest and the wetness between her legs into his now rock-hard erection.

“Prepare to die, Sl—” He came to an abrupt halt when he noticed this last fact at virtually the same instant she had. “Sl-Slayer?” His voice was almost shaking as his eyes widened.

“Spike…” she whimpered softly.

He looked down at her, total confusion written across his handsome features.

Time to break that indecision, she thought to herself, smiling inwardly. And she thrust her hips up against his hardened length.

His eyes widened further before the blackness of his pupils expanded, overwhelming the stormy blue. “Slayer,” he whispered almost reverently this time.

And with that his lips smashed down onto hers.

Buffy was startled for an instant by the intensity of his kiss. She had never felt anything so bruising and demanding before. She gasped slightly, and his tongue instantly took advantage of her now open lips, plunging into the depths of her mouth. By now she was aflame and could do nothing but join her tongue with his, letting the two dance and mate within her mouth.

His hands lightened their death grip on her wrists and began to swirl seductive patterns over the pulse points there. She twined her fingers with his own for an instant, before his fingers moved downward, gently caressing the sensitive skin all down the inside of her arms, to her elbows, around her upper arms, and finally coming to rest on her breasts. His hands fondled the milky smooth mounds with an almost ghostly touch, contrasting sharply with his hard, biting assault on her lips.

Her now-free hands eagerly clasped the back of his neck, pulling him down to her. She managed to catch that beautiful lower lip of his between her teeth and finally got to discover that it was just as smooth and sweet and soft as it looked. All the while, her fingers played in his peroxide locks, marveling at how silky his hair remained despite its constant exposure to the harsh bleach.

Meanwhile, one of his hands had wandered from its comfortable position cradling her breast to explore areas further south. Clever fingers glided down her side, gently teasing what little of her abdominal muscles were not pressed tight against his own washboard abs. The hand caressed her hip, then her thigh before moving to the back of her knee where it caught her leg firmly and pushed it aside.

He instantly fell into the gap between her legs, the tip of his erection dripping its precum onto the velvet gold of her inner thigh.

Buffy’s mouth opened in a desperate gasp at the feel of the demon now firmly between her thighs, and it was all the reprieve he needed to once again take the advantage in their duel of tongues. He managed to discover every inch of her moist cavern before she came back to her senses, and her tongue once again fended him off, rejoining the constant struggle for supremacy.

She retaliated by raking the nails of one hand down his back, enjoying the rippling of the sculptured muscles on his back and the slight hiss he gave off as she drew blood. Her hand continued its descent until it reached one firm buttock. It clenched at him needily, grinding his erection hard against her thigh.

“Cor, Slayer!” he cried out, throwing his head back and finally breaking their kiss. “Want you so bad…”

She reached up to nip at his throat. “I thought,” nibble at his earlobe, “that demons,” lick along one of those perfect cheekbones, “just took,” bite to that luxurious lower lip again, “what they wanted,” a long slow lick right along the path of his jugular.

His now black stare seemed to penetrate her very depths. And then his mouth returned to hers even more feverishly than before, if that were possible. His hands became bruising as well. One clutched and kneaded her breast with ferocious intensity, while the other spread her thighs further, guiding her leg to wrap around his waist. She eagerly let its mate join it, and her feet ran sensuously down the backs of the vampire’s cool thighs.

Spike began to trail wet, open kisses below her earlobe, setting the needy flesh there aflame. Finally and with surprising gentleness he let his tongue play along her jugular, studiously avoiding the marks left by the Master and Angel, Buffy couldn’t help but notice with wry amusement.

Her thoughts quickly turned back to the matter at hand when she felt something cool and hard poking at the entrance to her womb. His head tantalized her pleasure centers, pressing lightly against the sensitive bundle of nerves before outlining her slit with agonizing slowness.

“Spike?” her tone was that of fervent supplication.

“Yes, Slayer?” he rose from her throat to stare directly into her eyes.

“Spike…” she repeated breathlessly.

His smirk turned several shades more evil. “Something you want, pet?” he teased her entrance yet again before cupping her ass firmly in one hand and poising just above her opening. “Something I can…do for you?”

Oh god, his tone was so insufferable! She didn’t care anymore, though. She just wanted Secret-Buffy-Fantasies # 1-100 to finally come true.

“Spike, please…” Whoever had said she wasn’t the begging kind had just been proven wrong. Oh yeah, that had been Spike. She took a great deal of satisfaction from that fact…or at least she would later. Right now she needed an entirely different kind of satisfaction.

“ ‘Spike, please’ what?” He had never been so grateful for his vampiric abilities before. Otherwise, his face would have been flushed, his heartbeat pounding, and his breathing erratic…all signs that would have given his true desperation away to her. As it was, he was certain the throbbing of his cock would betray the fact that he wasn’t at all in control of this situation.

Luckily, she didn’t notice.

“Please, I need you inside me. I want you so bad… I-I…”

“ ‘Please’ who?” He was really pushing himself to the very edge now.

“Spike! Oh god, Spike, just fuck me! Fuck me now!” And there the last remnants of her dignity went flying out the window.

She couldn’t have cared less at that moment, though.

With an animalistic roar, he thrust full into her, filling her aching void.

“Oh god, yes!” she cried out, her nails digging deep into his shoulder blades.

His eyes rolled upwards as he was squeezed from all sides by her wet, raging inferno. His head came to rest against her throat as he began to move within her, feeling unbearable loss every time he pulled out only to feel that same rapture once he pushed back in.

His strokes became stronger and harder as he managed to regain some semblance of control. He was getting deeper with each thrust now, penetrating her to the hilt and stretching her inner walls with his impressive girth.

Buffy had never been this completely filled before. It was as though he was made to fit her. Her hips bucked wildly up to meet his in a continually faster and more frantic rhythm, their pelvises grinding together.

Hands flew over sweaty, burning flesh, feeling nothing but sleek skin over well-toned muscle. Buffy didn’t find it at all odd how her own perspiration and warmth coated him – they were but one body, one being, now.

His mouth latched onto her neck, and he began nibbling at the soft, oh-so-delicate flesh there with blunt teeth. She moaned at the sensation of being so completely and intimately at the mercy of this dangerous predator, and she let out a brief cry of ecstasy as she felt his fangs extend and begin to lightly torment her golden column of flesh.

Nails pierced firm muscles, silver-white limbs mingled with golden-brown, teeth nibbled, moans and gasps and growls escaped, bodies pounded into each other harder and harder and faster and faster…building…

“Spike!” Buffy screamed, her darkened eyes widening, as she felt his fangs finally pierce her skin. Her eyes unfocused and stared into the heavens as her entire body seemed to explode in pure ecstasy. She cried out as she fell, impaled two ways by this passionate creature of the night.

Spike’s eyes clamped shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure as her internal muscles spasmed around him when she came. That unbearable warm pressure to his cock and the ambrosia filling his mouth were too much to bear, and he clutched at her desperately as his seed exploded into her body, spurting out in wave after wave of pleasure.

Minutes…hours…years later, they both felt the earth rushing up to them and fell hard, collapsing into a pile of useless limbs.

For a while only the sound of Buffy’s desperate breathing and the slight wet suction of Spike’s persistent hips, still lightly moving in and out of her of their own volition, disturbed the absolute peace of the bedchamber.

Then, Spike wearily realized that his fangs were still latched onto her throat. He barely managed to slip out of game face and lap at his bite marks to close them before he collapsed once again on top of her.

The feeling slowly returned to Buffy’s limbs, and she managed to keep breathing despite the full weight of the vampire on top of her. With curious gentleness, she ran her fingers through his white, silken locks.

This seemed to revive him once again, and this time he was successful in slipping out of her and rolling to the side. They both lay there for a minute, side by side staring at the ceiling, her panting heavily and him trying to regain the use of his brain.

In the end he finally succeeded and asked the only question possible in such circumstances:

“What the bleedin’ hell was that, pet?”

Yes, I will write more...say, when I don't have a final in the morning. Isn't it nice to see how I've got my priorities straight? Oh, and be sure to review 'cuz I write so much faster that way. ~_^