bakerstreet | Smut Picture Prompts Meme: It's Actually Sunday According to World Clock Edition (I think)!

[She let out a softer moan, one that spoke of him getting it right, as a deep breath was exhaled, a free hand going to stroke at his hair almost gently while the other curled against his back, nails pressing into the flesh. She moved in tandem with his fingers, rocking back and forth, muttering half sentences and moans.]

[He knew how to play her and she was willing to be played. She pressed more into him, letting him know without words that more was still needed]

[Three fingers in, curling against her inner walls, his thumb moved up to circle around her clit. His teeth bit gently at her. Oh, he knew she was tough. Knew the both of them could give and take a lot of damage. But there was... something. Something that made it worth trying to draw out when she let him play at being gentle with her. When her hand stroked at his hair like that as he used his free hand to shove at his jeans, pushing them down over his hips before tugging at her ruined pants.]

[It was a breathier moan that came as his thumb touched her clit, one that was lighter but somehow heavier than ones that had come before. Her hips rose, as she met his fingers' movements and she didn't stop the hand that stroked at his hair. It was rare, a moment like this, but the feelings it brought were worth it.]

[She lets him tug at her ruined pants, moving them out of the way before she pulls his legs against hers, wanting to feel more. Her breathing had sped up, the way it always did when it was so much but still not enough]

Want you. Need to have you.

[For someone that had started out as a poet, he could lose control of his words at the most important of times. Arousal. Anger. Embarrassment. Seemed that was something they had in common.

Not that she'd ever admit to it. But he was used to that. What he'd never get used to was the feel of her body around his, welcoming it with the grip of her legs tight around his sides. That was something he cherished each time it happened.]

[She hated and loved those words from his mouth. Hated because she shouldn't love them, and loved because they always sent the same flash of desire rushing through her, heating her up even if she was convinced she couldn't get any hotter. She pulled at his head, bringing it level with hers so she can smash their mouths together in another bruising kiss.]

Yes

[He loved when she said yes to him. He especially loved it when they were both naked and getting heated up. His pants were down enough that he could pull his cock free, hand wrapping around it to line it up against her, pressing in slowly. Slow was best with moments like this, when she let him. They could speed up, change positions, change everything, but right now, right at the start... it felt so bloody good.]

[She relished these moments. The feel of him sliding in to her, the feel of being filled... It was an odd thing to relish, but she did. Her legs automatically hooked themselves around him, wanting to hold him fast as he pushed him, forcing him faster.]

[These moments were always the best]

Hot...

[Panted out against her lips in response to how it all felt. How she felt. How she was. Hot like the sun -- his sun. His centrifugal force, her gravity pulling him in just as much as that welcome, wet heat of her body did. He sunk further in, pressed deeper into her, a stuttering sound of pleasure leaving his lips to muffle against hers before he managed to sheathe himself fully inside her.]

[There were no words in response from her, just her smashing her mouth to his, groaning in pleasure at the feelings. He was so cool against her, even though she could feel the burn of her own skin, and it sent odd feelings through her]

[Slowly, locking eyes with him, she rocks her hip against him, trying to get him to move]

[He moved. Slowly at first, then ending that second thrust with a hard snap of his body to hers. God, she was always so wet for him, wet and welcoming, even when she was spitting insults at him. Her body spoke its own language to him, and he listened, drawing out almost all the way before slamming back into her.]

[He knew how to get her to moan, how to get her to feel. He knew better than anyone else had, and she'd never tell him that, squeezing his sides between her legs, pushing closer to him to make him move faster, harder. She needed to feel, and he always made her feel more than anyone]

[He hadn't expected her here tonight, but he wouldn't pass up whatever time he could get from her. His body sunk into hers, his mouth crushing against hers, teeth biting at that pouty lower lip while his back arched. The couch creaked, his hand coming up to grip at the arm as he pulled himself against her harder still.]

Don't just moan, Pet. Tell me you like it. Tell me what you want.

[Another other night, she probably would have yelled at him telling her that. But it was one of those rare nights. She swallowed, her voice breathless:]

I want more, Spike. I want to feel this when I wake up.

That your way of saying I'd better be so good, I knock you out?

[Well. That was a lot to live up to. But he oddly felt up to the task. Or maybe not so oddly, considering it had been at least a week since she'd last come to him, since he'd last tasted her. Vampires, for all their lack of a pulse, had an incredibly large sexual appetite. More so when it wasn't just some passing thing to play with. He loved her and he wanted her. Of course he'd bloody well give it his all.

And maybe there was that little, quiet part of him that desperately wanted her to stay. To curl up next to him in the most vulnerable state she could be in and feel she could do that. With him.]

That's my way of saying hurry up and move.

[In other words, probably sort of. There is - on one level, when they aren't this close and the heat isn't rising and she isn't finding herself desperate for him - a sense of irritation that he seems to rise to any task when it comes to her. Irritation because, well, it was unique, in a sense. She leant in for another fierce kiss]

Like I said I want to feel it.

Yes, ma'am.

[He attempted to let that sound all manly and quippy, but it came out more abrupt than he'd planned, what with her crashing her mouth down on his like that. But who was he to complain? No, Spike would be a good puppy and attempt to fuck her through the couch, down into the bed the floor below them. What? They'd done it once...]

[That had been a good once. She could deal with abrupt. Abrupt was easier to deal with than anything else in this ... odd thing between them]

[He wanted odd. He wanted her to feel uncomfortable, to think about the what ifs. To think of him. So he'd do as she demanded; he'd pound himself into her until it hurt him, all so she could feel him come the morning.

And that idea was nice all on its own. She wanted to feel him. Him. She'd come to him. If that wasn't its own aphrodisiac for him... well, he didn't know what was.]

[It'd probably make him feel better to know she didn't stop thinking about him. About this. It wasn't always the best thoughts, or even hopeful, but he was constantly on her mind. And she did mean what she said: she wanted to feel this the next morning]

[It would. Even the bad bits. His track records with relationships were... well. Had she met Dru?

Still, she made him want things. Want to be better. Not a better demon -- a better man. He made himself weak and bare around her, even knowing she'd likely tear him down and hurt all those soft spots. But for him, it was worth it. Worth just that moment of a touch.]

[She tried not to think of past relationships when she thought of this thing. Though not because of Drusilla - as creepy as she was - but because of Harmony. There was a part of Buffy that could remember ever shrill break-up Harmony had gone through during high school, and the punishment the girl tried to give out to whatever person hooked up with her most recent ex. Not the stuff she wanted in her life.]

[But this? Constantly going back to him for whatever she needed - harsh bruising kisses and pushing him up against a crypt wall for whatever quick release they could find. It was... a habit that she was finding very hard to break.]

[Harmony hadn't ever been more than something to play with while he'd gone after what he'd wanted. He hadn't been shy about telling her that to her face. Hardly his fault she was as dense as a brick wall.

He always seemed to want what was the worst thing for him. But out of all the bad things, out of all the things that could hurt him the most, she was the best of them. The one that made all the others worth it. All those decades of pain and being what he was had led him to this -- shagging his mortal enemy on his couch with their clothes only partially off, losing themselves in the moment.]

[She clung to him, pushing back as hard as he pushed her, and in a way it was kind of like the fighting they did in front of people. Except this was a very difference sort of dance.]

[His arm slid around her back, lifting her up off the couch, arching her towards him as his head fell to her neck, mouth nipping at her as his breath started to get ragged. He was actually glad they'd wound up where they had. Now his couch would smell like her and sex. He loved that combination.]

[She groaned, letting herself fall forward to rest her weight against his just slightly, her hands wrapping around his neck and she rocked hard against him. There was never any holding back between them; it was always all they could give. And that? She really liked]

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