By
"M'lyn the Cursed"
"It's been forever..."
Spike thought of those words, spoken only hours earlier, as he lay motionless in his and Drusilla's big bed. When he'd awoken after Dru had dragged him from the church ruins, he hadn't been able to move from the waist down. Now she'd run off to find Dalton, the only vampire anyone could think of with half a brain, to come back and help.
Spike sighed and shifted his shoulders, folding his hands over his belly and tapping his thumbs together.
"Forever..." The word echoed in his mind. Now the question was, would they have to wait still longer to be together again?
Spike dismissed the unpleasant thought. Of course not. He'd be out of this mess in under a year.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached for the bottle of blood left on the night stand. He then drained it and set it back, then closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headboard of the bed.
Spike could still remember that last night. It was before coming to this damned town, before that damned bloody Slayer, before Drusilla got weak. They'd been in Paris for the month, staying
with Dru's very generous new friend. Spike smirked, remembering how the old bag's blood had been as rich as it had been blue.
But then, on their second-to-last night, Drusilla revealed what she'd been up to when she'd been gone for most of the evening...
*Dream Sequence*
"Spike, my love!" Drusilla pushed open the great wooden door to their guest room and poked her head inside.
Spike glanced up from where he sat by the fire, enjoying a French black cheroot.
"You know, Dru," he said, going back to watching the fragrant smoke drift into the rafters, "the French really have perfected some of the finer things in life. I was thinking that perhaps we should take advantage of our host's hospitality, and move in. She, of course, would have to move down...six feet under." Spike tossed a grin over his shoulder at Drusilla, then leaned forward and
stubbed out the cheroot. "What is it, pet?"
Drusilla gazed at Spike from under her lashes. "I went to a new shop today," she began, smiling widely. "I got you a present."
Spike rose, brushing a few strands of night-dark hair off his forehead. "Oh?"
Drusilla's smile stayed in place as she walked over and pushed Spike roughly back into his armchair.
"Oh," Spike said, staring up at her. Drusilla's smile had vanished. She stepped back and untied her cloak, letting it fall back. Spike sucked in his breath, his eyes widening. "Dru!"
Drusilla smiled again, turning in front of him. The red satin chemise was cut low over her breasts, flowed down until it lightly clung to her hips, and stopped suddenly high on the thigh. "Do you like it?"
Spike sat back and looked thoughtful, examining her from head to toe. "Well, I don't know. I'm not sure if red is your color."
Drusilla gaped at him. He continued, oblivious to her reaction.
"In fact, I think it needs to be a lot longer. Ankle length; nice and modest. And the fabric...a pleasant white muslin. Yes, that would be lovely." He looked back at her face. She pressed her lips together and gathered up her cloak from the floor, then quickly tied it on and walked towards the door.
Suddenly, the silk ribbons around her throat tightened right as she felt her cloak being pulled on. Turning, she found Spike standing with one foot on the edge of her garment. She glared at him, then yanked at the fabric. It tore under his boot, making him chuckle as she wailed in outrage.
"Now look at what you've done!" she cried. Spike laughed harder."I can't believe you! First you say those awful things, and then you rip my cloak! Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to get something to wear, something that won't reveal an inch of skin for you to see, and then I'm LEAVING!" she finished, shouting.
Drusilla started to march towards her closet, but Spike intercepted, stepping in front of her. She moved to pass him, but he anticipated and stepped in front of her again. When she huffed and glared at him, Spike again laughed. He bent, quickly wrapping one arm behind her knees and lifted her up, flinging her forward over his shoulder. While Drusilla screamed in rage, Spike walked over to the giant four-poster bed, where he deposited her, and none too gently. She bounced twice, then pushed herself up to her knees and faced him.
"Let me go."
"No."
Spike began untying his cravat while Drusilla turned for the opposite side of the bed. She had almost reached it when Spike's hand shot out and closed over her ankle. With one hand, he began reeling her in; with the other, he started on his shirt studs.
Drusilla flipped over, still sliding across the slick duvet, and tried to pry his fingers off of her ankle. When that didn't work, she slapped at his hand, and then scratched. Nothing.
She looked up from her efforts to find Spike smiling, greatly amused, down at her. She hissed at him, morphing into her vampire guise just enough for her teeth to grow. He merely laughed and released her ankle, then leaned forward. She leaned away, morphing back to normal, then felt her back meet the bed. His arms were braced on either side of her. Trapped.
"What's the matter, Dru?" he murmured. "Not interested?"
"Not after what you said, you...you...meanie!" she shot back, beginning to cry. When Spike laughed again, she immediately quit and growled at him. Still braced over her, Spike brought up one knee, and then the other, to kneel over her on all fours. By this time, she noticed that he was naked from the waist up.
"What if I said I was sorry?" he asked, sneaking a kiss under her jaw before she could answer.
"I'd still say no!" This time he caught her behind her ear. She tried to ignore the fact that his kisses, especially the playful nips that he was giving her now, made her skin burn and her blood heat, and tried to escape under his arm. One hand shot back and gripped her throat, fingers and thumb curving over her jaw, the heel of his hand in the hollow of her throat. She hadn't moved an inch.
"I don't think so, luv," he whispered, then pressed his mouth firmly to hers. She tried to pull back, opening her mouth to speak, but his tongue swept in and silenced her before she could make a sound. He broke the kiss quickly, pulling back just far enough to search her eyes, then turned her jaw with a quick urgency that startled even her. It was then, when his teeth closed over her sensitive earlobe, that she closed her eyes, groaned, and gave in.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Drusilla felt him let go of her jaw and drop beside her onto his back, rolling her over so that she lay half on top of him. Blindly, hurriedly, she found his mouth and kissed him with passion. Spike laughed, still keeping his lips pressed against hers. She pulled back to look at him.
"What?"
Spike shook his head. "Nothing, ducks. I just find it a bit amusing that you're so agreeable now just the opposite of what you were less than a minute ago."
Drusilla smiled, winding a curl around one finger. "Do you care?"
Spike recognized the look in her eyes and immediately changed his grin to a sly smile that matched hers. "Not anymore."
Drusilla hummed, bracing her hands on his shoulders and slinging a leg over his belly to straddle him. Spike's nostrils flared slightly, but he said nothing and watched her.
Drusilla leaned forward, her long hair curtaining their faces, as she brushed her lips against his. "Do you know what I want?" she murmured, her breath feathering his lips. The blood began the pound from Spike's head to his groin.
"What, luv?" he murmured back. His breathing quickened.
"To stay up. All night...and...all day," she revealed, kissing him slowly between words.
Spike's mouth curved into a smile. "Oh, I think we can arrange that." He gripped her thighs just above the knee and tilted his head up to kiss her. As their mouths molded, his hands began to creep up her legs to the edge of her chemise. When his fingertips reached the edge of the fabric, he began to slowly push it up, sliding his fingers over her soft, pale skin. But before he got more than a few inches, Drusilla swung her leg off of him, breaking the kiss, and knelt at his side. He braced himself on his elbows and frowned at her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said quietly, then continued. "Please undress now?" She asked, then looked away politely while Spike shrugged. But he finished the task and climbed in bed, drawing the sheet up to his waist. Once settled, Spike reached for her hand and pulled her back to him.
"Come here, pet. I'm not finished with
you." She laughed quietly and lay on her side next to him, her hand resting
on his chest. Spike tipped her face up and kissed her gently, the passion
receding into a slow burn. But Drusilla moaned softly into his mouth and
pressed closer, heating his blood once more. Spike broke away, turning
her onto her back and leaning over her, and began depositing kisses all
over her - the corner of her mouth, under her jaw, behind her ear. At her
shoulder, he took the thin red strap between his teeth and began to tug
it down. She shivered as his breath whispered over her skin, and moved
her shoulder to help him. When the strap was down to her elbow, Spike landed
a kiss on the curve of her breast, still barely covered
by the satin, and turned to her other
shoulder, which got the same treatment.
Spike leaned back and looked Drusilla over: the red cloth literally hanging off her, the straps down to her elbows, the edge hiked up high on the leg. He smiled almost wickedly. Drusilla mirrored his smile and sat up to a kneeling position. As Spike continued to watch, Drusilla crossed her arms over her body, grasping the hem of her garment and drawing it upward. Seconds later, it flew through the air and landed, hanging over the back of a chair. Neither noticed.
Drusilla joined Spike under the sheets, reveling in the feel of her bare skin brushing against his, tangling their legs together while their mouths met. She breathed out his name as she arched her head back, offering her neck as he kissed a path down it. He dug his teeth lightly into her collarbone, grinning as she moaned, then moved lower. Her hands flew up to cradle his head as his teeth closed over her nipple, her long fingers burying themselves in the thick dark strands. Her back arched off the bed when he began to suckle. She discovered that she was breathing hard and fast when he shifted his attention to her other breast.
His fingers, which had been examining the softness of the skin over her hips and ribs, stroked lower. Drusilla's back met the bed again while her hips arched. His fingertips delved through the curly dark hair over her mound, then felt the hot dampness below. Drusilla pulled Spike's mouth back up to hers, kissing him deeply as he stroked her to a writhing state, and arched against him eagerly.
But then the two heard the most unexpected sound: a knock at the door. Both whipped their heads around to stare at the thick wood, and didn't move until Spike shouted, "What in the bloody hell is it?!"
A frail voice with a French accent said, "Is everything all right, monsieur? I heard your lady scream."
Spike turned his head back to Drusilla and began nibbling at her shoulder. "Go on; tell her, ducks. Tell her what was wrong," he commanded quietly, chuckling as she quickly grew uncomfortable.
She batted at him, pulling away his straying
hands from various parts of her anatomy, and called
out, "Yes, Madame LaMaudite, everything
is fine. Go back to sleep."
"Oui, madame. Bon noir." Footsteps, accompanied with the thump of a cane, trailed away down the hall as Spike turned her face back to his.
"I believe the cliche‚ is, 'where were we?'" he began, and fused his mouth to hers. Drusilla giggled at his words when the kiss ended, brushing her hair out of her eyes. He reached down and cupped her breasts, thrilling as she moaned and arched up again. For a moment he stroked his fingers over her soft skin, then lowered his head and kissed her gently. "Shall we finish this, love?" he asked, and smiled when she nodded. He placed another kiss in the hollow between her breasts, then slid his hands along her legs to her knees. She obligingly parted her legs, and he settled himself against her, then slid into her soft heat. She moaned again, wrapping her legs around his waist as he braced his elbows on either side of her head. Then, slowly at first, he began to move. Drusilla matched his rhythm, faster and faster, stroke for stroke, until she dug her nails into his back and arched up with his last thrust, coming together in unison with him.
A few minutes later, Spike raised his head and looked at Drusilla."I love you, ducks," he said, kissing her lightly. He rolled off her as she smiled, then reached over and pulled her to lay on his chest.
It was just a few minutes more before they could continue Drusilla's plan to stay up for the next 36 hours or so.
*End Dream Sequence*
"Spike! Spike, darling, wake up. Dalton's here."
Spike heard his name being called, and reached out toward the familiar voice.
"Dru?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed. A cool hand grasped his, and he smiled. "I had the best dream. Remember when-"
"Shh..." Dru hushed. "Tell me later. Now we have to fix you up, since you're all broken."
"I'm WHAT?" Spike tried to sit up, opening
his eyes. Drusilla and Dalton stared back at him. He looked down at the
legs he could no longer feel, and remembered. "Oh, shit," he swore, and
flopped back down as Dalton approached.
Back to Spike Fiction