The Senses of a Vampire

Two: Touch Me Right There




Buffy lay on top of the red quilt, sprawled on her stomach and relaxed, her head pillowed on her folded arms. Spike lay beside her, lazily tracing patterns on the smooth curves of her back with the palm of his hand. “That tickles!” she protested drowsily.

“Want to be scratched instead, do you?” he purred. “Fine by me.” He used his nails on her, enjoying the way she arched her back with sensual pleasure and murmured encouragement as he hit the right spots. His own back and shoulders had been scratched earlier but in a less controlled way. He had felt his skin tear under her nails, scented the blood that she had coaxed from his body. He had been very brave about it afterwards of course, and when she’d insisted on kissing the marks better, well, he hadn’t wanted to argue with her. Not tonight.

“So,” she said. “I guess I smell of you now, huh?” She rolled over onto her back and looked up at him, hazel eyes shining in the candlelight and he felt a stab of despairing love. She wasn’t challenging him, accusing him or threatening him. She was looking at him as if she cared and it filled him with a bewildered joy and terror.

“I can’t tell where you start and I finish, love,” he said honestly, bending to nuzzle at her neck, biting down softly and feeling her respond, languor giving way to lust, a cycle they had repeated so many times that night.

“So your nose is useless now,” she said teasingly, reaching up and tapping it with a finger. He snapped at it and missed, growling as she waved it slowly in front of him, taunting him. Making an effort, though he felt so relaxed he didn’t want to do anything but lie beside her, he tried again and managed to capture it between his teeth. She didn’t struggle to free it and he began to suck and lick, swirling his tongue around it, scraping his teeth down it with the lightest of pressure. “Is this a tutorial?” she asked, forming the words with difficulty as desire began to take possession of a body she had thought sated.

He kissed her palm and smiled at her. “Like you need one. Or have you forgotten making me beg when you were down there having your shameless, wicked way with me?”

She giggled, and he drank in the sound. Had he ever heard her giggle before? He was sure he would have remembered. Her face was solemn too much. Making her laugh almost gave him more pleasure than making her choke out those gasping, desperate pleas for more of everything he had to give. Almost. “You don’t mind admitting it? Some men might be all – reserved afterwards. Embarrassed.”

He looked at her, his thoughts stormy for a moment. Some men. That probably meant soldier boy. Repressed wanker. Probably never did it with the lights on. “Love, compared to what Dr – umm. Forget it.”

She pulled a face. “You were going to say the ‘D’ word, weren’t you? Well, go on. She was a part of your life for so long; I guess it’s hard not to mention her now that we’re talking not fighting.”

He grinned. “Is this generosity just so you can mention your two lovers without me going off in a huff?”

“Three,” she corrected and then grimaced. “Not that I’m ever likely to mention Parker.”

“Who? Oh, him! I ever run into that joker and he’s going to be missing –”

“Keep talking,” she said, squirming against him. “Somehow the thought of him getting hurt – wait, missing what?”

He told her.

“Spike! I thought you were going to say, teeth – or blood – or, well, he needs those!”

“He can keep them in a jar when I’m done with him,” muttered Spike.

“Anyway, what were you saying about Dru?” she said, wondering if it was a good idea to ask but unable to resist.

“Huh? Oh – nothing much. Just that you had me begging you not to stop. Other way round with her when she got - playful.” Something anguished flickered deep in his eyes and she hugged him hard, protectively, suddenly not wanting any more details.

“Anyway, stop changing the subject. Your famous vampire senses are down one. What’s left?”

He pursed his lips and studied her, lying within his arms, hair a tangle of curls, lips kissed into ripeness, skin imprinted with a thousand invisible caresses from his hands and lips. “Looks like I’ve got you well and truly caught. Don’t need them now, do I?”

“It’s an attitude like that that could get you in trouble, mister,” she scolded. “This is me lulling you, getting ready to pounce. You need to stay alert.”

“Oh, well in that case –” He thought for a moment. “Touch.”

“That’s not something you’ve got that’s better than a human!” she said scornfully. “I thought you’d say hearing or something.”

He pushed away and knelt beside her, hands on his thighs, knees slightly apart. Buffy let her gaze wander over a body that looked good in clothes and better without, and wondered if drooling was undignified. Her eyes went further down and she decided that dignity was over rated. She reached out for him but he held up a hand, warding her off. “No,” he said sternly. “This is you trying to lull me remember? I’m on to you now.”

“No, you’re not,” Buffy complained, lying back down and eying him hopefully. Yes, that was a definite twitch.

“I’m going to show you just how good my touch is, Slayer, so stop trying to distract me.”

“I know that already,” she pointed out, not caring if she fed his vanity. She owed him some compliments after months of rejection.

He grinned, blue eyes sparkling, head tilted as he watched her pout. For someone with no mirror, he’d developed some devastatingly effective expressions. Buffy whimpered, all sense of shame lost without regret. “When you look at me like that –”

“Won’t be a problem in a minute, Slayer.” He rolled off the bed and went to a chest that was tucked away in the corner of the room. After rummaging in it for a moment, giving Buffy an excellent opportunity to admire the view and enjoy a primitive thrill, tinged with guilt, at the claw marks marring his back, he returned, holding a length of black satin, glossy and heavy. He got onto the bed and tossed it to her.

“What is this?” She ran it through her fingers, letting the slippery material flow over her stomach, shivering at the cool sensation on her flesh. Spike’s hands had taught her to like that feeling very quickly.

“Scarf for a blindfold,” he said matter of factly. “Though there’s three more in there that I can put to good use later for something else.”

Buffy’s eyes moved speculatively to the sturdy posts at head and footboard of the bed. There was a short pause as each imagined the other lying bound and helpless. Spike must have guessed her thoughts because he said, “We can toss a coin, see who goes first.” He got a thoughtful nod in response and wondered if he wanted to win or lose. Choices, choices -

“So, I blindfold you and then what?” Buffy asked curiously.

He blinked and then smiled slowly. “You take my hand and put it on you and I have to guess which part of your body it is.”

She frowned. “Too easy,” she objected. “Anyone could do that.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see how well you do then, but fair enough. How about I use just one fingertip? If I guess, let’s see, five out of five right, you admit you were wrong and vampires have better touch than humans?”

“No,” said Buffy, eyes narrowing as the challenge was laid down. “If I can’t beat you, then I’ll admit it, not before. Otherwise you could just be doing something that anyone could do.”

“Logical,” he admitted. “Though I’m not sure a Slayer counts as normal as humans go.”

She picked up the scarf, ignoring his comment, and looked around the room, wondering how to set this up. “Lie back against the pillows,” she instructed. Amused by the way she was taking this so seriously, he obeyed. Buffy, to whom losing was a bad habit to get into, had no intention of letting him win this or any other game, but she was also getting turned on by it. Kneeling by him as he lay propped against the head of the bed, she gasped as he caressed her from breast to hip in one thoughtful stroke.

“That’s cheating!”

“Revising,” he countered. “Perfectly acceptable.”

She wrapped the folded material around her own eyes for a second, to check how well it worked as a blindfold. Spike looked at her, admiring the way the black band across her face emphasised the fair skin, and made the sound that reminded Buffy of a lion purring before it pounced. Spike could do things with his voice that made her legs go weak. Not that it was a problem unless he did them when she wasn’t lying down.

Suddenly feeling very vulnerable in her blindness, she snatched the scarf off and moved closer. Tying the blindfold around his eyes brought her breasts within easy reach of Spike’s mouth and he took full advantage, laving a nipple to hardness as he tasted her and making her hands tremble as she tied the knot. She took revenge by leaning in to kiss him, making sure that no part of her touched him but her lips, brushing his mouth with delicate touches, feathering her tongue across his teeth. When he tried to deepen the kiss, rearing up off the bed and reaching out blindly, she backed away, studying him with a look so hungry that it would have made a lesser man flinch. He felt it even through the blindfold and she watched his lips curl in a smile so predatory that she shivered enjoyably, wondering what it would be like to spar with him now that the dance would inevitably end with him deep inside her.

“Stay still,” she said, dragging her thoughts back to the game with an effort. Deciding that he would get too many clues from the way the bed moved as she shifted position, she got off it and walked around to stand by him. In silence she reached for his left hand, squeezing it gently and then wrapping her fingers around his index finger. With Slayer agility, it was easy enough to balance on one foot and place his finger tip against the sole of her other foot, raised to waist height.

Spike pressed gently against her skin. This was an easy one. Definitely lulling him. The slight roughness of the skin, an indefinable sense of thickness – “Bottom of your foot,” he said.

He was trying to be fair, trying not to use any other sense but touch, but it was difficult. He was used to taking in and using all the information his body could collect and ignoring some of it seemed wrong. His finger was moved again, this time to a sharp point of bone under a thin layer of skin that shifted as he touched it. “Elbow.”

Buffy smiled. Yes, they were easy ones but he had used up all his chances now. Catching her lip between her teeth, she drew his finger to her inner thigh and let it rest there, trying not to tense a muscle. Spike considered his answer. The flesh was smooth, delicate. It wasn’t an area that got exposed much. He could feel the heat of her body above him and spoke without conscious thought. “Inside of your leg,” he said and flicked his finger up, taking her by surprise. He heard her breath catch as he plunged inside her for one split second and then she stepped back sharply, releasing him.

He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face, couldn’t resist bringing the finger to his mouth to taste her. “That’s three for three, love.”

Buffy glared at him, arms folded and fingers tapping. That gave her an idea. She squatted, moving slowly so he didn’t feel even a slight breeze from the displaced air, and took his finger again. Moving her free hand away from her body, she placed his finger tip against one of her own, holding it tightly so that it didn’t slip off. She smiled in satisfaction. That had confused him.

Spike had to admit defeat. “End of your nose?” he hazarded. A snort told him that he’d failed and he sighed.

She took his hand for the last time and pressed into soft, yielding flesh. Spike groaned inwardly. This could be so many places. He pushed a little harder and felt muscle. Pressed again and heard her start to giggle. No problem.

“That’s a Slayer’s ticklish tummy,” he said confidently, ripping off the blindfold. He stared in disbelief. His finger was pressed against her cheek, an inch away from her smiling mouth.

“I think you need some anatomy lessons, Spike,” she said demurely.

“Bloody right I do,” he said, pulling her down on the bed.
 

***

 Two hours later they were still playing and Spike was discovering his love had a competitive streak as wide as a football field.

“Arm. Look, can we just -”

“Not yet. Here.”

“Neck. I can feel the pulse.”

“One more.”

“Tit. No, I don’t know which one! Buffy, please!”

“Last one, I promise.”

“Your backside and I’m going to spank it if you don’t let me – Buffy! Come back here, undo these bloody scarves and take off this blindfold! I give in, okay? ”

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Part Three

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