Wayward by Devil Piglet

Part 14 (Alternate Continuation): ...Waits There For The Nails

What if that's not enough?

She enfolded him again, jacknifed her lean body around his own. Strong, slender embrace, the murmured sweetnesses in his ear and he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that she’d really forgiven him. Wasn’t possible, was it? Wasn’t right.

But the warmth coming off her was real, the warmth that spread to simmering heat at her center.

He pressed her up against the pillows, covering her but it still seemed he couldn’t get close enough. His forehead dropped to hers and Jesus, she wasn’t turning him away but gathering him near. He dropped kisses on her face, benedictions from a sinner. And when she lifted her face to his, and their mouths met, he wondered if this would send him to hell.

Wanting her like this, holding her like this…surely there’d be no mercy for him now. He was a depraved and cruel thing, to corrupt her with his touch. He was the monster they’d all seen.

But her lips brushed across his, tongue flickering out, cajoling. And her arms tightened around him, drawing him in.

He was rock-hard between her legs, knees on either side of her and suddenly the subway came rushing back - he’d crouched over her just like this - and he jerked away, stricken.

Instantly that onyx gaze pinned him, and she had his wrists in hers before he could stumble away.

“No,” she said hoarsely. He looked at her. She wanted it.

She wanted him.

Nikki coaxed him back down again, ignored his idiot trembling. This time she was above and it was better that way, so much better and wasn’t she beautiful?

***************************************

She didn’t know how long they kissed; it was exploration by mutual consent and they were like teenagers in the backseat of a car, so urgent but trembling too. His hands settled at her waist, nearly meeting as they went around and she could feel herself growing wetter just beneath his splayed fingers.

He was groaning into her mouth now; him, Spike. He was moving her hips, she realized. He didn’t seem to be aware, just pulled them infinitesimally closer with each kiss until finally she met hardness where before there had been air. She ground herself into him.

His movements stilled.

“What is it?”

“Was hard,” he choked out.

“What?”

“That night – at the club. When I took your friend.” Nikki stiffened.

“I was hard – draining her, watching you. Holding her tight to me, blood going straight to my cock but it was you I wanted.” He looked up at her finally.

“I’ll muck it all up, Nikki. Make you feel dirty like me. Couldn’t bear that.”

It hadn’t occurred to her, this; that what she could forgive, Spike could not. She refused to be haunted by her own ghost. So she would give him new memories to replace the ones they were leaving behind.

She pushed his shirt up and over his head, and they both followed the play of her dark fingers on his pale, dead flesh. She bent to take one small pebbled nipple in her mouth. He cried out.

His mouth broke from hers. “Sweet girl,” he gasped. “Sweet wicked girl.” And then he bucked up against her.

The friction was too much, and he was hitting just that spot; she pushed into him again and again and he seemed to sense the telltale rhythm because his hands tightened around her and his own movements became deliberate, guiding. She would have hurt anyone else, with the force of her body slamming down. But he matched her, met her pace and that left her free to fly.

“That’s it,” he was murmuring. “That’s it. You’re so close now, baby.”

“Look at me,” she pleaded. He had to see her, know that it was Nikki rocking above him because they were crafting something new here with every whimper and thrust.

He struggled, resisted but soon his gaze locked on hers. She imagined how she looked, poised there: beads of sweat dampening her skin, her clothes – God, they were both fully dressed; her lips parted, long slender body arching and bowing in time with his.

“Will you come for me?” he was asking, even though his body had no doubts.

“Yes…”

“Come for me, come for me, come, Nikki, come, Nikki –"

The orgasm ripped through her, shattering; she broke apart and every piece that fell away from her was replaced with ferocious pleasure. She gasped, hands flailing out for purchase and found him. He whispered praise to her, eased her down until she rested atop him. Strange, that he was the one now panting.

They stayed there, nuzzling, for long moments. When she was no longer content to float in lassitude, she slipped her hands under his shirt and dragged her fingernails along the taut flesh there. She liked the feel of him.

His muscles jumped and quivered at every contact, but he held himself apart from her. He wouldn’t make a move, Nikki realized. So her hand drifted down and touched him, where his erection throbbed painfully through his jeans. He grabbed her wrist, forcing her back. Well.

Slowly, pausing for more kisses and purring (purring?), she brought her hands to the hem of her shirt and pulled it up. Then her bra, unclasped and dropped lightly beside her. She cupped her breasts, full and high. Brought one to his mouth.

In this, at least, he needed no encouragement. He caught the nipple between his teeth, fastened on it with the same intensity he demonstrated in every other pursuit. His gaze, too, fastened on her and watching him do this – Spike, vampirekillersavior – at her breast was too terribly erotic.

“What do you want, Spike?”

His hand had drifted up to her other breast, rubbing it in time. And he was changing, back and forth, blue eyes to yellow, brow furrowed and then smooth. But he wouldn’t answer.

“What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

She dipped a finger into her own wetness, brought it slick and shining to his lips. “Do you want this?”

Her finger was suckled into his mouth instantly. When he released it the words came tumbling out as well. “Want you. Want to taste you, Nikki, please –"

She kissed him again, caught her own lingering flavor on his lips. Then his head was traveling down, down, to the valley between her breasts and the dip of her belly. Worshiping her with his mouth.

His fingers found the waistband of her slacks and he tugged, then his gaze shot up to hers as if expecting reproof. She slid the pants and underwear off entirely and he made some strange unidentifiably arousing sound.

“Oh, Christ,” he muttered from where he knelt. “Gonna make you feel so good, sweetling. Gonna give it all back to you. Wish you could see yourself, like this. Fucking gorgeous.” And then his mouth on her, right there, right where she needed it, no teasing or toying with her, he’d known, like he always did, that she was past that.

“More.” When she heard her own voice, it was hoarse and distant.

“Like that, baby?” His tongue slipped inside her, his thumbs on either side of her clit.

“Yes.”

Long thorough licks that ramped up the tension inside her once again, and when she risked a glance down she nearly came just at the sight – white-blond head buried between her thighs, and as if he sensed her scrutiny his gaze flew upwards and it was nothing but blue eyes and brown skin meeting in some primal communion.

“More,” she repeated, but this time she grabbed his shoulders, pulled at him until he unwillingly rose from her aching pussy. She made short work of his jeans, gone before he realized what was happening. Even as he stared at her, disbelieving, his cock had sought her out.

She rubbed herself against the tip and his hands fisted in her hair.

“Fuck, fucking hell. Nikki.”

She was burning for it and she was so afraid he would back off, guilt driving him away and into himself once again. So she waited while he crouched, strained and shuddering, above her. Head bowed, he did battle – with his demon, with his soul, she wasn’t sure – but then he jerked up, and she recognized that feral look in his eye.

He drove into her with a single stroke, no hesitation. She gasped and saw his jaw clench tight.

“Oh, my fierce girl. You let me in, love, all the way –" He broke off when she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips.

She let him in and he let go. His hands gripped the bedsheets on either side of her as he drew out and plunged home, over and over and Nikki couldn’t imagine it any other way. He was fucking her hard, allowing his strength to rival her own in their brutal, sublime dance.

He must have heard her increasingly frantic groans, or felt her inner muscles tighten around him because he unclenched one fist and took her chin in his hand. Turned her face to his. He knew she was coming and wanted to see her when she did.

“Spike.” She couldn’t look away, although the intimacy was terrifying; it was Spike above her and inside her and it set her off.

“Spike…” Each time his name left her mouth he pounded into her harder, so very close now himself. She reached around, clutched his ass to bring him even deeper.

“Nikki, Jesus fucking Christ –" His fingers molded her lips, her cheekbones, her jaw. “Oh, God, Nikki.”

He’s praying, she thought dimly right before it hit and her gasps turned to cries turned to screams and he was there for all of it, every sweet shocked second and as it finally faded he followed her down. Her name on his lips as she drifted away.

“Nikki, Nikki, Nikki…”

“Spike.” Vampirekillersaviorlover.


Continued in Part 15: This Mess We're In