Her Sire

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Her Sire

Kallysten

Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where. When the story is finished, I will post it on my website at http://www.geocities.com/kallysten_fr/
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com
Story notes : This is a sequel to my story His Childe. If you haven't read it, I strongly suggest you stop right here and go read it first, some things in here will make more sense if you do.

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A Thousand Times Yes

When he returned home, merely an hour before sunrise, Spike was still furious. Prowling around the town’s places that were most frequented by demons had been of little comfort, but had at least allowed him to get rid of his surplus of energy. The bloody Poof just didn’t understand anything. Lucky?! The only thing he considered himself lucky for was that Buffy was his. The one and only thing that made his life worth continuing, with or without a heartbeat.

Despite the lingering anger, he opened the bedroom door as quietly as he could and slipped in silently, careful not to wake his beautiful Slayer. She had left a couple of floating candles lit in a round vase, for him, undoubtedly, and the wavering flames cast shadows on her sleeping form. As his eyes drifted over her, he couldn’t help smiling lovingly. Yes, lucky.

Still quiet, he undressed quickly and walked into the bathroom, stepping under a very hot shower. Dust and blood disappeared down the drain, and, with them, slowly, his anger. He was rinsing the shampoo from his hair when a cool body pressing against his back startled him. Elegant arms encircled him, slender fingers drawing patterns on his chest, one hand coming up to tease his flat nipples, the other sliding down to his hardening shaft. Blunt teeth were scraping the back of his neck softly, sending shivers down his body. For a couple of minutes, he just let himself enjoy the ministrations of his lady, stifling the delighted groans that were rising in his throat.

Intertwining his fingers with hers, he finally stopped her caresses and turned around to face Buffy. Her head was tilted up, requesting a kiss that he was all too happy to give. Chaste and tender at first, just lips brushing together. Quickly, tenderness evolved into fiery lust, and their tongues were dancing against each other, as were their bodies and hands, wet skin sliding against wet skin, soft against hard.

They broke the kiss, both panting needlessly. Spike fumbled to turn the water off, then scooped his Slayer into his arms, eliciting a quiet laugh. He carried her back to the bedroom, stopping just as he crossed the threshold, looking around him in appreciation. All around the room, candles were burning, throwing dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling, creating the illusion that the clouds of their sky were moving, floating on the wind.

“Spike…”

She glided to the floor, standing right in front of him, her arms around his neck, smiling up at him a bit shyly.

“Spike,” she repeated, ever so softly, “can I … I mean… do you want…”

She took a deep breath – she was so cute when she did that – and said in a whisper:

“Will you be my Mate, as well as my Sire?”

He blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected it, not so soon after her torture, and not when they were going to become humans. But he was also surprised at the hesitation in her tone, as if she wasn’t sure he would accept.

His answer was to claim her mouth again, and to try to tell her with his lips and tongue how much he loved her, desired her, admired her, worshipped her. As they kissed, he guided her gently to the bed and they lay down, limbs tangling, stroking, pulling bodies closer.

“Was that a yes?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes, it was a yes. A thousand times yes.”

As they rested on their sides, chest to chest, Buffy slid her leg over Spike‘s, opening herself to him. Easily, he slid inside her, rocking himself deeper progressively, with no haste.

His fingers trailed along her face, down the side of her neck that was free of scars. Four times, as a human, she had been bitten and scarred. Four times on the same side. Even Drusilla had chosen that side. He had bitten her on the other side before, but the marks had faded, always. Her skin was so smooth. Precious silk. Cool and white alabaster. A blank canvas for him to sign, to leave a permanent mark.

“Where will you mark me?” he whispered.

She turned her head, reaching to kiss the hand that was caressing her, her lips brushing on his wrist.

“Right there,” she replied. “Where I drank first. Where you can see it and remember that you are mine.”

He smiled gently, repressing the urge to tell her that he would never need reminders about that. Then his smile faded as he realized that, maybe, he would need such a proof. Would the claim stand once they became humans? A human claimed by a vampire couldn’t tell the difference from a drinking bite. For vampires, on the other hand, the claim became part of them, part of what they were, as if a piece of their Mate existed in them. Until the Mate died, and the foreign piece vanished with them. It wasn’t painful, it was just a sudden void where before there was wholeness.

Buffy moving on top of him pulled Spike away from his worry. They would know what would happen when it happened, and until then, they would be vampires, Sire and Childe, Mates.

She sat astride him before helping him to a sitting position, her legs sliding around him. He rested a hand on her lower back, pressing her closer to him, and presented his other hand to her. She tilted her head, offering him the unscarred skin he had been admiring earlier. He brushed his lips softly on her flesh, rediscovering familiar territory, trying to find the perfect spot. She had already found her place, and he could feel her fangs grazing against his skin, scratching lightly, not hard enough yet to draw blood.

“Just bite, luv,” he murmured. “Your demon will do the claim part.”

Following his own advice, he shifted into game face and easily pierced her skin. The sweet ambrosia of her blood hit his tongue just as she bit his wrist. At first, it was only a double bite, like they had often shared, delightful and powerful enough to make them both quake as blood passed from one to the other and back. But suddenly, it wasn’t just a bite anymore. It was not about blood. It was about reaching out to the other’s essence, to the very core of what they were, and grabbing a part of that. A thousand suns exploding in the same second and setting the universe on fire.

Light.

Power.

Warmth.

Energy.

And pleasure.

A shout pierced through the overflowing sensations to reach Spike’s conscience, and he couldn’t have said to save his own life if it was Buffy’s or his. Or theirs.

* * * * *

It was so much all at once that Buffy thought for a second that she was falling through Glory’s portal, again. So much energy going through her…

But no pain this time. Just pleasure that seemed to have no boundaries. Her whole body shook with a sudden, violent, orgasm, and she screamed. She was aware of Spike shuddering, around and inside her. She could also feel him deeper, almost as if he was nestled in her soul, a bright fire that lit her whole being, and she understood what it was to have a Mate.

Still quivering, out of breath, she rested her head on his shoulder. He was babbling into her hair, repeating over and over that he loved her, that she was beautiful, that he was hers. She wanted to say the same thing to him, but words refused to leave her mouth. So she did the next best thing. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, slowly, tenderly, trying to give him back just a fraction of what he had given her.

Gently, he lowered her back to the bed, leaning above her, resting on his forearms. Awe was plain on his face, and adoration. So much. All for her. With strong and long thrusts, he made love to her, rekindling in her the inferno their claiming had started. An eternity passed in one batting of his eyelashes. Lost in his rhythm, she didn’t realize his eyes were clouded until a burning tear fell on the corner of her mouth. She couldn’t have said if she came first and brought him over the edge with her or if it was the sudden rush of warmth in her middle that triggered her climax.

Quaking, he laid over her body for a moment, his ragged breathing tickling her neck, and she felt closer to him than ever. He rolled them over then, until she was resting against his chest, his arms tight around her. She drifted into sleep, her cheek pressed to his slowly stirring chest, lulled by the rhythm of his heart.

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