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tigerf00d · 6 months ago

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Words Inside a Shell

Chapter 3: The Tide Always Moves Fast

Pairing: Spike x Reader

Other Characters: Buffy and Willow, Xander (mentioned), minor original characters

Tags: EXPLICIT! Smut ahead! You are responsible for your own consumption of media, but please don't interact if you're under 18. No use of Y/N. Afab but gender-neutral.

Word Count: 4.3k . I don't. I don't know what possessed me.

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Series masterlist

Summary: While trying to get over a crush on a certain crispy-haired vampire, you end up falling right back into his arms

Or, the one where a night out with the girls goes wrong.

A/N: So What if I said I split up the last chapter and the first 1k(ish) of this one so it wasn't a monster chapter. It's not my fault the spirit of the holidays possessed me, and now we have 4k of smut. Happy Holidays, ya filthy animals.

You sighed, turning to Spike and hanging your head slightly.

“Well, that was a bust.”

“Hoping to go home with him, were you?”

You looked up at Spike before answering in a small voice. “Not really.”

Not for the first time tonight, Spike’s gaze was intense. His bright eyes observed you, focusing on your expression as you did the same in turn.

Unlike earlier, him checking you out didn’t feel quite so cold. Where before you felt like you were stalked prey, you now felt relief at the familiarity of him watching over you.

Spike squinted and then nodded towards the toilets, breaking the spell the two of you were under.

“Yeah, you’re a mess, love. Better go get cleaned up.”

“Thanks, Spike.” you said sarcastically but began walking through the throng of other dancers regardless.

You stopped before entering. “Oh, I need to tell Buffy and Willow—”

“Go. I’ll alert the neighbourhood watch.”

“Thanks, Spike.” You answered, this time sincerely, smiling from the doorway as he fake gagged and turned away to tell the girls.

You ran the tap, splashing cool water on your face. Thankfully, even though it was to cut costs, the Bronze had two gender-neutral toilets, both their rooms and only slightly larger than the regular stalls in the women’s and men’s bathrooms.

You grabbed paper towels from above the thick counters— probably only there so that drunk patrons couldn’t rip the sink out of the wall— grimacing at their gritty fibrous surface, muttering “In for a penny, in for a pound…” and then patting against the wetter spots of skin.

Your reflection looked much calmer now, not necessarily neater, but you felt better either way. Two sharp knocks echoed across the small room.

“Um, occupied?”

“‘S me.” Spike said against the door.

You straighten your posture and crack open the door, wincing as it creaks.

“Did you tell them?”

“Yeah, they wanted to come see you but…” He shrugged, petering off.

“Y’know for all that talk of being an evil vampire you sure are helpful.”

“Take that back.” He said, evidently flustered.

“No I don’t think I will. Thanks for helping me with that jerk, by the way.”

“It’s no problem. I can eat him too, if you’d like.”

“I had considered it.”

He smiled at you and for a moment you forgot to breathe, the smile was small but earnest, an expression that he rarely had after years of guarding his intentions.

You unfroze, remembering yourself and smiled back, no doubt he had caught the moment of unintentional hesitation, but if he had he didn’t mention it.

“So, why are you here?”

“Oh, you know, T.V. stations went to sleep, only the shopping channel’s on this time of night. Or my favourite: static.”

“Enlightening. Now, why are you really here?”

He raised a brow at your repeated question, “I was bored. There’s barely anything to do in Sunnydale. Or anyone for that matter.”

You roll your eyes, and the thought, ‘don’t remind me,’ floats behind your eyes, but you don’t get the chance to voice it when Spike continues,

“And it’s a good thing I did too. That guy was too handsy.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yes. How could I ever repay you?”

“I can think of a couple of ways.” the vamp joked. You hummed, agreeing as you quietly made a decision.

You sank to your knees, not breaking eye contact when your knees landed on the cool tile of the stall's floor.

“Oh, no, love. You don't have to do that.”

“What? I can't thank my knight in shining leather?”

“Well, when you put it that way. Far be it from me to refuse your gratitude.” He brushed the hair off of your face, and you grasped the material of his pants near his hips, hands warmed by his duster.

“Unless you don’t want me to.” You clarified.

“I never said that.” He responded quickly.

“So, to be clear, you do want me to suck you off in this bathroom right now?”

He groaned, nodding as he widened his stance for you to better slot against him and said, “Of course I do.”

You leaned against him, your legs straddling one of his own as you rested your head against his groin, tent growing from his clothed member beginning to strain against the fabric, and peered up at him.

“Do you promise?” You asked, teasing him now.

“Yes, love, I promise.”

“It’s good to check.”

“Sure.” He mumbled absent-mindedly while fumbling with his belt buckle.

You took pity on him, nudging his hands out of the way and then undoing the button and zipper of his jeans while you were at it. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants and the elastic of his briefs on either side of his hips and you gradually pull them halfway down his thighs, releasing him from the confines of his clothes.

Spike lets out a faint unbidden sigh of relief as his hard cock springs free, so quiet you're not certain he's even aware he made it.

You run your hands back up his thighs, fingertips lingering under his shirt, feeling the Adonis lines for yourself and emitting a soft, excited noise, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your breath quickens.

He was long, slightly curved, and not skinny. The head was only slightly paler than you had expected, though in consideration of his supernatural nature, it wasn't anything that couldn't be explained.

From Spike's perspective, he watched as you placed a kiss to where his torso met his thigh. Heard your heart beat faster, blood rushing in excitement as you become more aroused. More aroused because you wanted to blow him, even in this dingy stall.

Your warm, soft hand gently gripped the base of him, tilting him slightly to give an open-mouthed kiss to the shaft. Even as you shifted away, he could feel your warm breath against his skin, only making him all the more desperate for you.

Fortunately for Spike, you weren't the most patient either. You briefly removed your hand and spat into your palm, returning it to his dick almost immediately after. You held him more firmly and began to stroke him. Pumping the wetness over him with your fist.

You sat back, letting out an almost silent gasp as you felt the hard material of his boot make contact through your clothes and Spike's lips parted as he fought the urge to buck into your hand at this reaction.

It was then that he felt your warm tongue swipe over the head of his cock, swirling around it a few times to get used to the taste of him. Without realising he had closed his eyes, Spike opened them and looked down to find you looking up at him, bright, eager, eyes shining as you licked up the length of him.

“Is this all you wanted? Someone's cock in your mouth, hm?” His voice cracked as you sucked the tip of him into your mouth and hummed an affirmative to his question before releasing with a salacious ‘pop’.

“Not just anyone.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed around him again, not removing him from your plush lips as you sucked him further into your mouth, already wanting to take more of him in. The vibrations sent a shock wave of pleasure through Spike’s whole body, and he was practically salivating, watching you try to stimulate yourself as a result of his shuddered reaction.

“Go on, pet. Y’ can hump my boot if you'd like.”

You whined around him, body gyrating as you manoeuvred your legs to do so less awkwardly.

What you couldn't reach with your mouth, you continued to stroke with your hands, twisting around him in time with the motions of your tongue.

Spike hadn't expected your eagerness, hand reaching out to comb through the hairs on the side of your head, clutching you tightly. He also didn't expect you to moan because of that, and in a moment of weakness fucked into your mouth a fraction more, the sensation overwhelming him and causing his head to tip back as the vibrations from the moan you released in his hold washed over his senses.

But then you pulled back, tongue flat against the slit as you sucked at the same time as you twisted your fist at the base of him, the side of your palm brushing against surprisingly soft stubble that let you know that he wasn't, in fact, naturally hairless.

He whined at the feeling of it; thick, hot pleasure coiled throughout him, building at the base of his spine. Stopping himself from pushing you any further proved to be a herculean effort, though Spike had never been very good at holding himself back.

You ground your sensitive clit against the leather of his boot rhythmically, sloppier now as you got closer to finishing. Spike was making the most delicious half-rocking aborted motions like he wanted nothing more than to let go but was doing his absolute best to restrain himself for you.

Moments later, he felt your mouth slip off of him, replaced by the mind-numbingly languid strokes of both your hands against him and when he opened his mouth to ask if you needed to stop, his thoughts scattered, words dissipating into nothingness at the feeling of your warm breath against him as you spoke.

“Spike, you don't have to hold back with me.”

He exhaled sharply. Blinking as he fought to form a coherent sentence, Spike's normally quick wit had turned into a blank nothingness for him to draw from.

Finally, he settled on “Are you sure?”

“I've always wanted to try it.” You ran a thumb over the very tip of him, causing him to shudder and blink rapidly as he tried to keep his composure.

“You've never done it, but you…” Spike groaned, grabbing your chin and swiping his own thumb over your slick lips, “Fuck me, pet. It's really what you want.”

“Please, Spike? Use me.”

“How can I deny such pretty words?”

At that, he grasped each side of your head, hair bunching around his fingers as you guided his dick back into your mouth excitedly.

How were you so good at this? You had to have been designed in a lab. You were turning him on so effortlessly. Not the weirdest way he's gotten a lay.

He cursed, abdominal muscles tightening in anticipation as you took him deeper now. Your hands removed from his shaft to hold his hips again for stability.

Slowly, he tested your limits, pushing himself further into you, stalling when you released a happy moan from your full mouth.

“You're really letting me do this?” He asked once more.

You hummed agreeably along Spike’s cock, himself moaning because of it.

Without meaning to, you had stalled your motions, reminded when your neglected clit once again made contact with the material of his shoe, and you whined, bearing down to grind against it and build yourself back up again, nearing your peak much quicker this time.

As though you had switched roles, words came much easier to Spike now.

“Fuck, look at you like that, pet. So eager.”

Your rocking against him, desperate to hit the perfect spot over and over and over again, only served to turn him on more. Your search for friction proved that you were getting turned on by servicing him.

When he rolled his hips forward again, less experimentally than the last time, Spike could feel your throat relaxing. Inviting him in deeper.

A low, enraptured groan escaped Spike as he relinquished control over his other senses, allowing the feeling of you together engulf him.

Your nails dug into the bare flesh of his hips, letting him know he could sink into you further, encouraging him to do so.

Spike hissed in pleasure as he rutted into your mouth.

“You're good like this. Not giving me attitude.”

You glanced up at him as though to say that it was rude to talk with your mouth full, but the effect was lost when he took in the thin mist of sweat settling on your skin and the glassy quality taking over your eyes.

Instead, you suck harshly in retaliation, tightening your throat suddenly to overwhelm him before relaxing again to allow him to continue to fuck into your waiting mouth.

The groan torn out of him borders on feral, hands moving to better push you down onto his cock. Your eyes water, your nose almost brushing the stubble you felt earlier, and Spike holds you there. Holds you so far onto himself you worry you're going to gag any moment as he pants above you. So far that you don't even realise that you’re still grinding slowly against him.

After what feels like forever, he releases you and allows you a moment to breathe before rhythmically pulling you down onto him again.

“‘M close, precious. You?”

You blink, teary-eyed and hum an affirmative.

“So pretty.” He murmurs, and you aren’t entirely certain that it was meant to be out loud.

You hum again, almost non-committally, as you feel the ache in your jaw.

Spike’s thrusting grew sloppy, “Where, love?”

You tapped his thigh with your right hand before gesturing to your mouth.

“Inside?”

“Mhmm.”

He pumped once, twice, three more times, a groaned warning leaving his mouth moments before you felt him spilling into you.

His hips had stalled, so you pulled back, holding only the tip between closed lips and clumsily stroked his cock to prolong his orgasm.

Spike was breathing heavily above you, removing himself from your mouth at the same time as hauling you up.

“Did you…?” His voice peters off as he focuses on fixing his clothes, glancing up in time to catch you shaking your head and massaging your jaw.

“Let’s rectify that immediately.”

He lifts you so suddenly that you don’t have time to disguise your squeak, placing you on the counter. Despite your most recent activities, you feel your face heat in embarrassment at his crooked smirk in response to your surprise.

As Spike begins to kneel, you stop him, opening your mouth to protest.

“Oh, Spike, it’s fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Part of the fun is the thrill, love. I want to.”

“Are you sure? I’ve never… There’s never been someone who wanted to do this for me.”

Spike scoffs, “Then you’ve been with losers.”

“Oh, and you know better, hm?”

“About this and many other things.” He says, voice low. “I want to give you pleasure.”

Your mouth goes dry, “Ok.”

“Since apparently, you’ve only ever been with idiots…” Spike mutters, definitely intending to keep the thought to himself.

“Ok.” You say louder this time, and he looks at you cheekily.

He pulls you to the edge of the counter first, slotting himself between your legs at the same time as he puts his hands on either side of you on the counter so that he can lean in, kissing you excruciatingly softly. You can’t believe it.

When he pulls back to leave hot, biting kisses at your throat, you can’t help but stare at him wide-eyed, feeling like your brain is leaking out of your ears.

You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts that you don’t even register that he’s stopped kissing marks around your collar and has begun removing your clothes.

Spike leaves your top half and shoes on, opting instead to only remove the clothing barriers necessary. He finally kneels, running his fingers over the line of your cunt through your underwear to feel the wetness.

Though you had agreed for him to pleasure you, you squirm under his touch, fidgeting to stop yourself from closing your thighs. As though sensing this, he uses one hand to push your left leg away, effectively allowing him to pull your underwear to the side and repeat the motion he had earlier.

“Oh fuck.” You gasp, arching into him and then lifting your hips slightly to help him in his quest to free you. You place your clothes beneath you so that your bare skin doesn’t have to come in contact with the freezing countertop.

Spike’s touches grow bolder, fingers moving purposefully against your swollen entrance.

As you watch him, you notice that while his breathing has calmed down, he now looks as though he’s just shy of hyperventilating in excitement. Ever the loverboy.

“Is this from riding my shoe?”

“And you face-fucking me.”

“Ah, yes. We mustn’t forget that…” Spike’s voice made you aware that he probably never would forget it, or at least not for a very long, long time.

Your clit is aching so hard you feel as though your entire body is pulsing in time with it. Honestly, when you had left tonight, you had expected to maybe pick up a guy and kiss for a while to sate the bone-deep desire to be touched before retiring to the safety of your abode, where you could rub yourself to completion while imagining the scenario in front of you.

This was much better.

Spike, oblivious to your musing, has spent this time mapping your body with his hands, with the hand bracing your leg open, his thumb runs distracted, almost soothing circles as he kisses the other thigh. His free hand has made its home underneath what little clothing you still have on, finding your nipple with practised ease as he teases the sensitive skin there.

You shiver under all the attention, spreading your legs wider in encouragement, earlier embarrassment totally forgotten with the notion of Spike touching you properly.

The feeling of his warm breath against your mound is all the warning you get before he finally licks into you, top to bottom, so eagerly that the immediate relief you feel against your neglected flesh is palpable.

Wheezing, you tip your head back much the same as he had earlier, bumping your head on the tiles of the bathroom wall.

“Relax, love. Don’t want to damage that pretty head of yours.”

You whine at the removal of his mouth, wriggling slightly to tell him to get a move on, and he can’t help but huff a laugh.

This isn’t your first time being eaten out, almost surprisingly from the horror stories you’d heard. But this is different. This is Spike; he had maybe a century under his belt at this point, and the experience showed. Where other partners had offered in the past, once they actually got down to it, it was obviously because they felt some sense of duty, as though your pleasure was nothing more than an obligation when it came to having you fulfil their own desires in turn. Their focus shifted as soon as they thought they’d done a sufficient job to whatever they deemed the next step was.

In comparison, Spike seemed to relish at the opportunity, borderline worshipful in his actions. It’s nearly mind-blowing.

As your body goes lax against the countertop, Spike positions your legs up over his shoulders now that you’re making a concentrated effort to remain available to him. No longer holding your thighs agape, his thumb instead refocuses that circular motion against your clit so that while he explores other aspects of your mound, your hips don’t jump, and your aching flesh doesn’t feel neglected.

You try not to thrash under the attention, the action of holding you down alone has your heart squeezing tight in your chest.

Spike continues to lave his tongue against you, tasting. His movements— the softness of his tongue against you— create such delicious friction that you can see your chest moving as you pant, feeling as though your head is spinning.

“Fuck.” You gasp when Spike drags the muscle over your sensitive clit, hips jerking despite your best efforts. “Fuck, please. Please, Spike.”

Spike somehow pays close attention to each of your body’s cues. Every breath, whimper, and sharp intake of air. His movements reveal his desire to find what makes you react the most as he tries to match the motions to your sounds.

Your knees, still over his shoulders, tilt outwards. Conscious to not dig the heel of your shoes into his back, your toes clench uselessly within their confines.

Your breath stutters when he bears down more intensely, seemingly finding a pattern that draws the most satisfactory rhythm out of you, though you’re certainly not complaining.

“I’m close.” You moan, arm thrown over your face to muffle your noises. Even though the Bronze plays it’s music unbearably loud at times, you couldn’t risk people loitering outside the bathroom hearing you, much to Spike’s chagrin.

He sucks your clit into his mouth harshly, and you shudder against his face, vision blanking as you feel your orgasm finally, finally, wash over you. You can’t hold back your whines as the hot static pleasure radiates from the apex of your thighs out through what feels like the fibre of your being, writhing as Spike draws every last drop of pleasure that he can from you until you’re shivering with oversensitive aftershocks.

You have every intention of speaking, but after that, you can barely get words out, let alone calm your racing heart.

“Better?” Spike asks.

“Much,” You manage to respond, voice wavering, and you begin to redress.

As though sent from the Hellmouth herself, three knocks ring from the door, swiftly followed by Willow’s anxious calling of your name. Feeling like you’ve been plunged into cold water, you freeze, wide eyes staring at Spike with urgency as though he could magically grant you the ability to speak.

“Spike? Are you guys still in there?”

Spike groans, hanging his head. Thankfully, you find your voice again in time to interrupt whatever the vamp may have said.

“Yeah, Will, we’re still in here.”

“Oh good, ‘cause you know, Buffy and I were thinking of getting out of here, but we didn’t want to ditch you. Are you feeling better?”

From this side of the door, you could just make out Buffy’s snort and casual “I bet they do.”

“I am, thanks. Um, just give me a second, ok. I’m… I got more upset than I thought I would at that guy. Spike’s been…” You scramble to find an excuse. “Spike’s been telling me embarrassing stories.”

“I have not!” He responds indignantly, then shrinking back under your glare. “They’re not embarrassing anyway.”

“We’ll be out in a second.” You finish.

“Ok. We’ll be at the car.” Buffy says.

You finish redressing and, with Spike’s outstretched hand as guidance, gracefully find your footing on solid ground once more. Assessment of your reflection leaves you reluctantly optimistic that you don’t look like you just experienced a defining sexual encounter for this lifetime, though your lips were swollen and you’d have to cover your neck somehow. You glanced wordlessly at Spike, who was already watching you with an unexpected fondness in his eye.

“Can I wear your duster?”

“What?” Obviously, this was not the question he had expected.

You tilted your neck to more effectively point out the purple lovebites forming, “You freaking lay into me like some sort of— well.” You gesture at him, causing Spike to roll his eyes as he mentally finishes the sentence.

“Fine.” He hands the large leather coat over to you, pulling it back slightly before you grab it to ask, “And how will I be getting this back?”

“You’re coming home with me?”

“Oh, am I now?” He passed the duster to you, watching as you put it on and manoeuvred the collar to better hide the marks on your neck. His already poorly disguised amusement was not helped by the smug grin he wore.

“Obviously.” You paused, walking to the bathroom’s wretched door, “Unless you’re not game.”

“No, I’m game—”

“Good, for a second there, I thought your refractory period might take forever, considering your age.”

Spike guffawed at you. “Yeah, right. I’ll have you know my ‘refractory period’ is perfectly fine, thank you. Perfect even.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Spike’s arm went beside your head as he opened the door for you, allowing you to keep your entirely too pleased smile to yourself as you excited and made your way out of the Bronze, feeling his presence close behind you the entire time.

As promised, Buffy and Willow stood steadfast around the car. Willow was already in her seat picking at something near the window, and Buffy outside of the driver’s side door, scanning the surroundings. Her expression was only slightly too stern, almost reminiscent of a bouncer or security guard off duty, ever the slayer.

You rubbed your eyes and yawned as you got closer, a perfect facsimile of exhaustion.

Which… Though you were tired, your body thrummed with the knowledge that your night was only just beginning.

“Hey guys.” Buffy smiled when she noticed your arrival, opening the door to let herself in.

“Hey Buff.”

Willow looked up from her seat in the Jeep, and you watched in real time as you noticed what you were wearing and tilted her head in silent question.

To answer, you hooked your hands under the flaps of the duster slightly, twirling as you walked so that the leather flared out around you.

“Pretty cool, right? I can see why he wears it. I feel like Dracula.” You paused, “Or maybe a leather princess.”

Buffy snorted, no doubt seeing the exasperated face Spike was making in reaction to your words.

“Hey, speaking of Dracula,” You leant against the open window into the car, “could we drop Spike off? I don’t wanna forget to give him the coat back and have to walk into the crypt at night.”

“Sure, that’s fine.” Buffy said, Willow nodding beside her, quiet now as the night caught up.

You whirled around to face Spike, recovering quickly as you startled at how close he was and gave him an exaggerated thumbs up before making your way to ‘your’ seat.

“Where to, Spike?” Buffy was watching him carefully through the rearview mirror. For his part, Spike was already looking out the window, watching the gradually moving night scenery through windows that weren’t blacked out for once.

“Oh, just their place is fine. I can walk back after there.”

Amusement coloured Buffy’s voice, “If you say so.”

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #Spike x reader #spike x you #spike btvs x reader #spike btvs x you #smut fic

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