Bad, Bad Thing Ch. 03byPenelopeLane©
Part 3--The Stairwell.
Spike could hear her downstairs. With her boyfriend. Banging on the wall. On the floor. On the ceiling even. How did they do even do that? He didn’t even care, he just wanted it to stop. It was impossible to write with the constant thump, thump, thump. Wasn’t the bitch every satisfied?
It was the screaming that did him in. He was not a patient man by nature, and he had his limits. Thump, scream, thump, scream, thump, thump, thump, screeeeaaaam. Spike sorted through the closet until he found what he was looking for—a broom. For every thump they made, he made two. Soon, they caught on and were banging on the ceiling in response.
“Knock if off,” Spike roared.
“Bite me!” Came the muffled reply.
Spike picked up the phone and punched in his neighbor’s number. After three rings she picked up the phone.
“Will you please, for the love of God, and your own body, stop making noise.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, but I will. Now stop it!” Spike slammed the phone down hard, with a degree of satisfaction. Said satisfaction was quickly dashed when the phone rang almost instantly.
“Fuck you,” she said as greeting. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“Suck my dick, bitch.” He slammed the phone again. It rang again.
“Say that to my face.”
He tore the door open and stormed down the stairs. The last thing he expected was to see her little body raging his direction. He couldn’t help but smirk. This could get interesting. She was a hot little number, and she was showing a lot of skin. Her little robe she obviously pulled on in the heat of the moment did not leave much to the imagination. She had nice legs.
She crossed her arms across her chest when she saw him and shot a hard glare his way. They were both standing on the stairs, just two flights separating them. Her cheeks with flushed, but with the residue of passion or fresh anger, Spike couldn’t tell.
“Just who the hell do you think you are?”
“The guy trying to sleep! Fuck, do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I do! It’s not that late, Jesus. Buy some earplugs.”
“I shouldn’t have to buy earplugs, you little bint. You should try being considerate for once in your life.”
“You are totally over-reacting. It’s not gonna kill you to lose a little bit of sleep once in awhile.”
“A little bit of sleep? You guys go at like fucking rabbits every single night.”
She sniffed, “I have a healthy sex life. What? Are you jealous?”
“Of you? Not bloody likely.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You couldn’t keep up.”
“Please, little girl, you aren’t all that.”
Angrily she took a step forward and now only a single flight separated them. From Spike’s vantage point, he got an excellent view of her breasts. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
“You couldn’t even touch me,” she challenged.
“Is that a fact?” Spike’s nostrils flared and he moved forward. Now nothing stood between them, except flimsy cloth.
Spike knew that he should walk away. He knew he should go back up to his room and blast music until she had been fucked into silence. He knew that nothing good could from grabbing the back of her neck. Knew he would regret tilting her head up. Knew that if he kissed her, things could get really, really ugly. But none of that stopped him.
Their kiss was as hard and angry as their words. She clutched Spike’s hair and kissed him hard, trying to force him to back down. He did not. With one hand, he grasped the back of her neck, the other arm wrapped around her waist. They tried to punish each other with the contact, increasing the pressure until Spike realized hazily that bruises were probably going to form by morning.
His hand snuck down and gently caressed her ass, a marked contrast to the brutal force of his mouth against her. It was high and firm, and nice rounded. He cupped and kneaded it until she moaned and writhed against him. He pulled her short robe up, and was delighted to feel her bare skin. The little harlot had come out to fight him in nothing but a haphazardly tied silk robe.
Spike liked it.
His fingers moved lower, between her legs, into the warm, wet skin. She was so hot and excited, her clit pulsed against his finger. She gasped and moaned, and a bit of her anger melted away. B that point, Spike couldn’t even remember why he was angry. Something about noise? Whatever, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was her hot, tight little body.
He tried to drag her up the stairs to his apartment, but they stumbled and got distracted by each other. Spike spun her and pushed her against the railing. It creaked beneath their weight, but neither one of them noticed.
Lost in the moment, Spike only had one thought. He wanted to taste her, in her most intimate of places. He wanted to lick her and devour her until she screamed. Without warning, he kneeled before her, lifted her robe, and buried his face between her legs. He licked her fiercely, and her fingers curled tightly in his hair as he tongue lifted her higher and higher.
Each stroke was precise. He spread her lips open and covered every inch of her. He teased and caressed her clitoris until she squirmed and begged for more, then he backed off and let her cool down, before diving in again. He kept this pattern up until she bucked against his face, pleading and begging with him not to stop, threatening him if he did.
Tremors and shocks swept through her, and Spike face was drenched with her juices. He stopped and looked up at her with sexy blue eyes, casually wiping his face. She stared back at him, awed and dazed. They stared at each for several seconds, as their brains tried to sort what just happened and make logical sense of it.
Buffy pulled him to his feet, and he waited for her to slap him, or push him away. He really wouldn’t be surprised if she did, though he would be very disappointed. He was so hard; he needed to be inside her. Licking her and touching her made him feel like he could come in his pants.
She didn’t hit him or push him away—she shoved him against the wall and unzipped his pants. She pulled his cock out and caressed the wet, wet with pre-cum. She massaged him until he was gasping, and then with an evil glint in her eye, she let go and stepped back.
Panting, Spike pushed her down onto the steps. She laid back and spread her legs, and he kneeled between her legs. Buffy was uncomfortable with the sharp edge of the stairs shoving into her back, but she completely forgot about any discomfort when he finally pushed into her aching body.
There was no control, restrain, or finesse with his rhythm. He thrust into her wildly, only worried about ending his own torture. She was equally unconcerned with any sort of control, and she let everything completely go. Finally, when she was screaming, it didn’t piss Spike off. It just increased his pleasure, and he was determined to make her scream louder.
With the screams echoing in his ears and her pussy tightening around him, he came hard and fast. He rubbed her clit until she bucked and he felt her orgasm shake her body.
Spike left her on the stairwell, not even bothering to put do up his pants. He didn’t look back either, but he heard her stand up, retie her robe, and move down the stairs. She slammed the door so loudly it echoed down the hall. Spike smiled and slammed his own door.
That night, there was no more noise coming from her room. But when it happened again a week later, Spike didn’t mind. Instead, he relaxed and enjoyed his memories.