Author: Molly
Email: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17
Summary: What happened between Smashed and Wrecked. Inspired by Nautibitz’ challenge.



He’d managed to do it again. No big surprise there. Her fuse was incredibly short when it came to Spike – and that was when he wasn’t trying to enrage her. Clearly, right now, he was doing his best to provoke a response and it was equally obvious as to why. Skin on skin. Flesh impacting on flesh. And maybe if he taunted her just right she’d kiss him again.

“You came back wrong.”

Confronted suddenly with more knowledge with which she didn’t want to deal. Apparently she wasn’t dead anymore but if that was the case then why did she still feel, most of the time, like a barely animated corpse? Still frozen and not really sure she wanted to be part of this world. She felt like a bad actor stumbling through the movie of her life. Every time Dawn looked at her she knew she had to really come back from the dead. Surely the slayer should have the inner strength ‘to live in this world.’ That’s what she’d told Dawn.

“… not quite human ...”

She watches her fist connect with his face. It feels good. Nothing like violence to suppress the doubt. With her fist she lets him know she’s human. The pain of his foot smashing into her stomach let’s her know she’s human. Humans feel pain – don’t they? She chases the pain as they ‘dance’ around the room in a flurry of fists and feet and verbal animosity. Puffs of old dust marking their progress.

He’s pressed up against her, and suddenly it makes sense to mash her lips against his. Ahhhhh. Another way to obliterate herself. Another way to feel alive. Is it dying? Is it living? Shoving him away, but wanting him closer. And he knows he always knows. He pushes up against her and her legs clamp around his back. Her skirt falls aside and she can feel his cock hardening against her. She can’t help but rub against him. So erotic, and suddenly she’s not thinking about being alive, or being dead, or getting Dawn to school, or paying the bills, or patrolling anymore – she can just be in the present. And right now all she wants to do is pull her nickers to the side and put him inside her where she just knows he’ll feel so good. The sound of his zipper going down fills the space and then one slight adjustment and he’s filling her.

“So hard … so cold … so … Spike … Fuck … ahnng … I want…”

“Is this what you want baby?”

Moving against him. Thrusting into her. The bang of his pelvic bone against her clitoris. Sparks of pleasure in her fingertips. Nipples so sensitive.

“mmmm … yeah.”

He turns shoving her against the wall, and the slam of pain turns her on even more. It’s so heady that mixture of violence and sex. The pain makes her feel alive and the pleasure makes her forget why that matters.

Falling through a floor and hitting the one below. Pain jarring through their joints. But not enough to stop. Will there ever be enough of a reason to stop? He’s looking at her like he loves her, like he understands. And he does understand because his nails are biting into her buttocks as he pulls her up and down. They’re hurting. His hands spreading her cheeks making her feel exposed and vulnerable even though there is no one to see. But its such a sexy vulnerable and before she knows it she’s crying out again.

“Spike…harder, fuck me harder … I need to feel … I need to feel more … please … more… ah … ah … oh fuck.”

His hands bite in deeper. His cock thrusts is harder.

The sound of her coming and the feel of coming and the smell of her coming –

“ Buffy… so beautiful … I knew … I knew … there … ah tight …oh fuck.”

Then it’s just the two of them lying in the rubble, sated, and they’re not even naked. She rests her head on his shoulder for a moment. No desire to reengage with reality any time soon. His hands strum soothingly over her back. He can’t really believe what has just happened. In what world would he get to hear the strange sounds she utters while she’s coming, to feel her tighten around him? Maybe in that world with all the shrimp, but surely not in this one.

Time passes before she slowly straightens up not knowing where to start.


“Shhh, Buffy, not yet. Don’t let’s start talking about what just was, when it’s still -” And with that he cocks his eyebrow and thrusts his hips, still inside her “now.”

She gets off him, “We can’t.”

“Bit late for that now ain’t it luv?”

“Once, was well, once. But twice that could be the start of a really bad, *bad* habit.”

He stands up staring straight at her and strips off his duster followed by his T-shirt and he’s standing there all chiseled chest, and unbuttoned fly and erect penis, and he’s the most sexy thing she’s ever seen, and there is no way she can walk out without one more taste and the bastard knows it.

So she slowly peels her ravaged lace top from her torso, and unhooks her bra shrugging it to the floor, she finds the button to her skirt and it pools at her feet. Standing before him in her boots and her lace panties. Spike’s hand, seemingly of its own volition, moves to his cock and he’s slowly stroking it while looking straight at Buffy. His Adam’s apple bobs and he swallows hard.

She slowly stalks towards him and bends over, her bottom suspended in the air framed by her G-string, and takes him in her mouth. A light suctioning sensation moves up and down his penis. Her little hand cups his balls, while the other hand joins the wet sucking motion of her mouth. Up and down – the sensation is driving him insane. Then he feels a finger pressing against his anus. He nearly explodes into her mouth as her finger pushes past his entrance.

“Buffy… oh fuck … I never … knew you …. would …”

“What Spike? Never knew I’d be so dirty?”

“Not ‘dirty’ pet, ‘inspired.’”

Taking her head between his two hands he kisses her. She loves feeling so small in his hands. But all of a sudden things are far too gentle, too romantic and tonight she doesn’t want that. Tonight she needs to forget, and it is violence that has always offered her absolution.

“Hurt me. I need….” And she rakes her nails down his back for emphasis.

“Oh Slayer.” He pulls her roughly against him for a passionate, plundering, wet tongue lashing of a kiss. Then he pushes her to the ground. Buffy’s head hits the concrete and it should jolt her from her passionate haze but it doesn’t. Before she can respond Spike is on top of her and her hands are pinned above her head and he’s biting her neck – hard.

“This what you want luv?”

“No” trying to buck her way out from under him. Pelvises fighting for supremacy, but the final outcome just leaves her wetter.

“Want me to have a really good day?”

His teeth rake along her neck pausing at her scar.

“Want me to take a bite?”

“No,” but it sounds more like a moan and she has stilled beneath him.

“Oh I think you do,” one hand keeping her hands pinned the other raking its way down her body, stopping to squeeze and taunt her breasts, to twist her nipples. She hisses. He rips off her panties and stuffs them in the back pocket of his jeans. His hand cups the juncture at her thighs, curving around her, before one finger plunges in to the hilt while the heel of his hand grinds against her clitoris.

“I can smell that it is,” lifting his hand to his mouth and sucking her juices off his finger.


“And you love it.”

He lets go of her hands and leans down and bites her inner thigh hard. She flinches and then opens her legs wider looking defiant. He looks down at her cunt and spreads the folds. She refuses to be ashamed. Her reward is the feel of his tongue sliding across her slipperiness. She moans in frustration. He pushes his tongue into her entrance before continuing to flirt around her clit. She grabs his hair and pulls. He gives her what she wants. Flicking rapidly back and forth across her nubbin while one finger plunges in and out. Two fingers. He curves them around so there is pressure against her g-spot and pulsates his fingers back and forth. She screams as her hips thrash against him. He’s so hard. The jeans have to go.

Jeans draped across an exposed wooden strut, boots landing next to a pile of rubble. Hard cock easing into one very slippery slayer. Then out, then jarring into her. Her back rubbing against the concrete floor. She can feel the grazes on the small of her back. He can smell the blood.

“That,” thrust, “hard enough for you?”

Refusing to let him know.



Slam. Grinding back down on him.

“What you trying to do? Snap it off?”


Each trying to fuck harder than the other, grunts and scraped flesh. Suddenly she can’t take it anymore and bucks up and flips him over in one smooth motion. Let his back be the one rubbed raw by bits of broken plaster and splintered wood. He tries to sit up but she plants her hand squarely in the middle of his chest and pushed him to the ground following him down.

“My turn to set the pace.” And she rises up so it’s just the tip of his cock being moistened by her cunt. Slowly her muscles dilate and contract around him. Fucking him so slowly, and never sinking down to the hilt.

“Gonna beg Spike? Gonna tell me what you want?” One hand still on his chest. One trailing over her own body searching for her clitoris. Now not moving at all apart from her internal muscles. As her hand finds her clitoris, “I know what I need to get off, but what about you Spike?”




“Please what?” whispering into his ear, she taunts him, “Are you my willing slave?”

“You know I am.”

“I want you to beg Spike.”

“Buffy please fuck me. I need to feel all of you. Let me in. Please.”

“Okay,” and she gets up turns around and goes down all fours “I want it like this ...” It’s all he needs to hear. He could taunt her like she taunted him, but right now he doesn’t feel like it. He wants to be all the way inside her. Trailing his hands over her back to grasp her hips. Sinking into her, all the way in. Feeling her slayer muscles do their slayer thing shimmering around him. Not thinking too hard about how she learnt to do that, but glad she did. The slight bend in his penis means he’s rubbing just the right spot, as one hand reaches around to press against her clitoris. Grunting and bucking and scraped knees. And she’s never felt so pounded. Both of them striving, so close –

“Buffy … baby … come for me … oh fuck” she feels him coming, his cold semen spurting into her and it pushes her over the edge.

“Feel you…feels so sexy … love … this … ahhnnng” Slowing down, grinding into him as her orgasm quakes through her.

“I love you.” What is love to a dead thing? She slaps him, hard, across the face.

Each word enunciated “No. You. Don’t. You’ll never love me. This isn’t love Spike.” Shoving him across the floor. “Can’t you tell the difference?” Just a whisper now, “It’s hate.”


~The End~


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