Author's Notes: This is the "missing" handcuffs scene from "Dead Things."
Also note that this is *not* PWP (Porn Without Plot). It is quite plotted, thank
Betas: Much thanks to Perletwo, Mezzibelle, Chen, and NikiB for the wonderful beta action.
This story is the better for it.
Disclaimer: Joss is God. The characters are his. I'm merely having fun
***NO MINORS PLEASE*** If you are under 18, go ask your parents if you
can read a story titled "Bondage Fun." If they say yes, I'm sorry you have such
crappy parents. Now read my PG-13 fic and be happy. Go on. Nothing naughty to
Bondage Fun: Chains
*Giles, Faith has taken my body, and for all I know, she's taken it to Mexico
by now. I don't have time for bondage fun.*
Buffy snickered, staring at the metal bracelets around her wrists.
"Guess I got time now," she joked to herself.
"What's that, love?" Spike paused in rummaging to take in the work of beauty
before his eyes. Buffy was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, completely
naked, her handcuffed hands resting gently on her legs. But the thing that threw
him, made him instantly hard, was the smile on her face. He didn't expect the
smile. Damn, she was beautiful.
"Oh, I was just thinking of something I said to Giles," Buffy replied. She
was unnaturally calm, given her current position. He would have to change that.
"You know, Slayer, some of the things you say really make a guy wonder..."
Spike muttered, returning to his search. Now just where in the hell did I put
that chain? Ah! There it is.
Spike pulled a long, black chain from under the bed, grinning slightly when
he noticed Buffy's eyes widen. Oh ho! Scare you, love?
Noticing his grin, Buffy nonchalantly flipped her short hair away from her
face, trying her best to look uninterested. Is that all you got? 'Cause, big
Grabbing a couple padlocks he had retrieved earlier, Spike climbed up on top
of the bed, standing over Buffy. She scooted slightly away, leery of him, but
he was too busy squinting at the ceiling to notice.
What's he doing, changing a light bulb? There aren't any lights up there.
Attaching a padlock to one end of the chain, Spike threw the lock upwards,
catching it neatly as it came down on the other side of..?
"There's a pipe up there," Spike explained, noticing Buffy's confused expression.
She squinted too and he grinned. She was in the perfect position to...
Buffy noticed his throbbing cock near her head and rolled her eyes at him.
"Come here, love. Let me see that pretty jewelry." Buffy complied, raising
her handcuffed hands to him. Spike unlocked the padlock on the chain and re
locked it around the connecting chain of the steel cuffs.
Buffy sized up the chain and the padlock. It wasn't *that* thick of a chain,
she thought. She could probably break it if she had to. That is, if she wanted
Buffy looked up at Spike and found him studying her carefully, his forehead
wrinkled in concentration.
"You don't have to do this, love," Spike said, without a trace of recrimination.
Buffy looked into his eyes, then turned away.
Despite her earlier confession of liking him--sometimes--she didn't want to
like him. Not now. Not ever. She desperately wanted to *not* like him, or the
things he did. The way he made her body hum with desire. The way his arms enveloped
her, right before she made up some excuse and scampered away.
The problem, she surmised, was finding new ways of not wanting him. The old
ones had obviously stopped working.
"Are you afraid of hurting me, Spike?" Buffy said flatly. She knew what strings
to pull. Hell, she'd made half the strings herself, at least in his mind.
She glanced up and saw his expression harden. That's better, she thought.
Big Bad is easy not to love. Love? Like! I meant like! she retracted, mentally
She didn't have long to regret that thought though, as Spike yanked hard on
the other end of the chain, causing Buffy to yelp in surprise as her arms stretched
painfully upwards. She struggled to shift her weight, but found her ass inches
off the bed.
"Too much for you, Slayer?" Spike asked, a humorless smile on his lips.
Much better, Buffy thought, even as she gritted out, "No."
Spike nodded sharply, then lowered her a bit, letting some slack back in the
chain before wrapping and locking it around the sturdy metal bedframe.
Buffy stifled a sigh. At least the bed was supporting her weight again, even
though she couldn't lower her arms, leaving her feeling exposed. Which was probably
the whole point, she thought.
She tried to gauge what Spike had up his sleeve next by the look on his face.
Not much help there, she cursed silently. He had the petulant look of a child
told he was too young to play, determined to prove everyone wrong- determined
to prove *her* wrong.
But she already was wrong, wasn't she? He knew that. Why else would she let
him chain her up like this? Normal people don't do these things. This was wrong;
she was wrong. The proof was in her hardening nipples and engorged clit. Everything
that came after this would be meaningless. In point of fact, she had already
failed the test by coming to a vampire night after night, enjoying his perversely
Buffy stopped at that thought, breathing heavy, panic rising. The icky-sick
feeling was back, seeping into her gut. Nothing was fun when she felt like this.
Nothing was good or clean or...
Buffy turned to see Spike sliding across the bed toward her. Now was the time,
she thought. Call it off. Get your clothes. Get dressed. Leave. Leave before
he starts doing things...nasty, bad, wrong things you shouldn't want...
She opened her mouth to order her release, and he grinned. What the hell?
Why is the bastard grinning at her? Is this humiliating? Should I feel humiliated?
Prick. Fucking asshole prick sonofabitch...
No, she wouldn't leave. Not now. He would think she was afraid--afraid of
him. She couldn't give him that kind of power. He'd lord it over her like...well,
like lord-y people do.
"Get on with it!" she snapped, annoyed. There, better. Anger was better than
that twisting sinkhole in her middle. And Spike lived to piss her off, she knew.
It was the only explanation of why he was so good at it.
"Easy, pet," Spike cooed, as he slid into place behind her, his legs surrounding
hers. He pulled her back slightly so that she leaned against him for support.
"Better, love?" he asked huskily. She could feel his erection hard against
her backside, and her anger gave way to lust. Buffy squirmed, eliciting a low
groan from him and a small chuckle from her.
"You're gonna pay for that," Spike murmured in her ear. He lightly ran his
cold fingers up her side, expertly skipping his fingers over her ribs like a
concert pianist. She shivered slightly at his touch. His fingers followed the
swell of her breast, and soon his whole hand cupped her. He ran his thumb in
circles around her areola without touching the hardened tip. She closed her
eyes, enjoying the sensation.
Suddenly, she felt a sharp tug on her nipple and gasped. She turned and glared
at the smirking vampire over her shoulder.
"Don't want you falling asleep, pet," he said innocently.
"Then don't bore me, Spikey."
She regretted the words the minute they left her mouth. She had been enjoying
his ministrations. Which is probably why the bitch emerged, she thought wryly.
Trying to find reasons not to like him, remember? If only he wasn't so damn
good at this...
She glanced at him again and found his eyes small and calculating. She didn't
like that look.
Spike took her nipple in his forefinger and thumb and plucked it, harder this
time. Buffy bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"Bored now?" he challenged.
"Only if you keep yapping."
This was what she wanted. This was him being him, and her...well, she certainly
was feeling something now. Bright, shocking somethings. And she wondered briefly
if the chip in his head was like this: sharp, quick, painful.
Chuckle. His, not hers.
That wasn't...she wasn't ready for that. But at least he was back in a good
mood again. Nevertheless, she shot stakes at him with her eyes.
"Say the word, love," Spike said to her. She looked away, and he continued
tormenting her poor nipple until it ached and throbbed. After a while, he switched
to her other breast, repeating the process until both were aflame.
When he was finished, he admired his handiwork, as if mentally capturing the
image of her flushed skin for later viewing. Then he snaked his body around
hers, lowering his mouth to one sore, hot breast. She winced as he latched his
cold lips onto her, then moaned in sheer ecstasy as his icy tongue gently licked
the fire away. After a minute, he pulled back, leaving her nipple coated with
saliva, and started blowing air lightly across it, cooling her fiery nerve endings
further. Once dry, he performed the same soothing actions to her other breast.
Finished, Spike risked a glance, and saw her looking at him strangely.
"Don't stop there." Her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing came in fast,
gulping breaths. He smiled and resumed his position behind her. She rubbed her
legs against him, spreading wide to match the "V" of his.
"Did you like that, pet?" Spike purred in her ear. She responded by arching
against him, trying to twist around to find his lips. He helped by meeting her
halfway. Their kiss was fire and honey and passion. Her tongue fought desperately
with his until the need for air forced her to break away first.
There are advantages to being dead, she thought. She attempted to continue
the kiss, but he leaned far enough back that her chained wrists prevented it.
She knew that this was his subtle reminder the game wasn't finished. But she
wanted, no *needed*, something else first.
"Make me come, Spike," Buffy demanded.
He frowned. Not the reaction she was expecting.
"Who's in control here, pet?"
Buffy arched an eyebrow at him over her shoulder.
Right, Spike thought. Ask a stupid question...
Continued in Bondage Fun: How Wrong?