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presentsforlover

Page history last edited by PBworks 16 years, 11 months ago

Presents for My Lover

 

Author: NA43

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Pairing(s): Spike/Drusilla

Warnings: language, violence, extreme sexuality, bondage, bloodletting, lap dancing, kinky use of a trendy accessory

Spoilers: none

Summary: In 1980s New York City, Spike and Drusilla exchange Christmas presents. Needless to say, both have made Santa’s naughty list this year.

 

Nominated Category:

Best Established Relationship - Het,

Best Extreme BDSM - Other,

Best Holiday/Celebration,

Best Romance - Het,

Ingenious Pervertables - Het,

Most Diabetic Coma Inducing

&

Most Promising Newcomer


“Baby, come here,” I growl, wrapping my arms around Drusilla’s waist and gently pulling her towards me. She willingly presses her body against mine and kisses me, burying her hands in my hair. I run my hands up and down her body, and she moans into my mouth. Reaching around, I manage to unzip the back of her dress.

 

She breaks the kiss and her hands are suddenly on my hips and I assume she’s trying to get my jeans off. Instead, her hands press into my ass, pushing my groin against her. “Lord, baby,” I groan and start pulling at her dress. I stop when I notice she’s staring at me, a serious expression on her face. “What’s wrong, love?” I’m not sure whether she’s pissed off or if it’s just all the dark make-up. Lots of black eyeliner, her lips a rich chocolate brown, making her look moody yet elegant at the same time.

 

“My naughty boy’s so greedy,” she says seductively. “I think you should take your clothes off first.”

 

“All right, pet,” I say, grinning. “Whatever you want.”

 

I do as she says, and she eagerly helps me get naked, but makes no move to remove her own clothes. “Happy now?” I murmur, bringing her hand up to my lips and kissing it, noticing how striking her deep purple-painted nails look against her fair skin.

 

“It’s Christmas Eve, William, we should celebrate,” she says in a low voice.

 

I raise my eyebrows suggestively. “And just how do you propose we do that?” I say, adopting her seductive tone, her fingers still clasped in mine.

 

“Why, with presents, of course,” she says simply.

 

My gothic bohemian leads me into the middle of the room, then goes and gets a chair and places it in front of me. “Sit,” she says. I do, and she continues, “You’ve been so naughty this year that Father Christmas won’t bring you anything, so I’m just going to have to give you a present.” She goes to the other side of the room as she speaks and rummages around, looking for something.

 

“And what is my present exactly…” My voice trails off as she comes back, and I see she’s holding two pairs of handcuffs. I can’t help but smile. This should be interesting.

 

“It’s a surprise,” she answers as she kneels down and grabs my wrist.

 

“What are you doing, love?” I ask as she starts to cuff my wrist to the back leg of the chair.

 

“Now, I don’t trust you to be a good boy and follow the rules, so I have to do this,” she replies as she cuffs my other hand to the other chair leg.

 

“You’re right, darling, I’m not a good boy. But what are the rules exactly?”

 

“You have to sit in the chair and you can’t move. And you can’t touch me,” she says as she struts out of the room.

 

“What?” I ask, but she’s already gone. Bloody hell, I can’t touch her? I’m not sure I’m going to like this present.

 

I sit there, naked and handcuffed to the chair and wait, listening to Dru shuffle around in the other room, wondering what she’s doing. And what she’s going to do to me.

 

I hear her come back and turn my head to catch a glimpse of her and…Holy fuck. My eyes widen and stay glued on her as she walks around to stand in front of me. As I look at her, I feel my jaw drop and my tongue involuntarily slides out of my mouth and curls upwards a little bit in a blatant expression of my rampant sexual desire for her. I lick my lips and try to remember my own name, which, believe me, is not easy at this moment. I have absolutely no bloody idea what it is. Thankfully, Drusilla reminds me.

 

“Do you like it, William?” she asks innocently and lowers her head demurely as if my answer means the world to her.

 

She’s wearing a black leather miniskirt that clings to the curves of her hips perfectly, high black leather boots over fishnet stockings, and a silky red, corset-like top that laces up the front. She also has on one of my jackets, a black cloth one with silver zippers and safety pins all over it. My girl’s so thin that it’s a little big for her, but she looks so bloody sexy in it, it doesn’t matter at all. I remember I left a switchblade in the pocket and I briefly wonder if it’s still there.

 

My eyes drink her in as she stands there, her thumb hooked onto the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down a bit to reveal her jutting hipbone. “Kitten, you look…” I’m searching for the right word to capture what I’m feeling right now. God, I want to fucking devour her. “Tempting as sin,” I respond finally. Dru’s eyes light up and she smiles coquettishly.

 

“My bloody poet, you always say the right things,” she whispers, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of heavy traffic outside coming in through the open window.

 

She slowly walks up to me and reaches her thin, pale hands out, gently taking my face in her hands. She leans forward, being careful not to let her body touch mine and kisses me, her lips tenderly massaging mine. She pulls away suddenly, before I have a chance to deepen the kiss and spins around, so her back is to me, and, leaning back, presses her body against me as she slides down my torso. I groan as I feel the leather of her skirt between my legs, her silky hair tickling my neck. She rubs herself against me, then gets up and pulls away.

 

She struts around to go behind me and drapes herself over me, her arms across me, her hands resting on my stomach, her hair cascading down my chest. All I can think of is how goddamn lucky I am as she goes back up, her hands fondling every inch of my chest, lingering on my nipples, stroking my collarbone, massaging my neck. I moan loudly as her hands leave my body and she goes to stand in front of me again.

 

The corners of her mouth turn up as she takes the switchblade out of the pocket, then takes off the jacket, rolling her shoulders as she lets it slip down her arms, slowly, until it finally drops to the floor, with the soft sound of the metal zippers clinking against each other.

 

She comes towards me again and, fast as lightning, her hand reaches out and she scratches her plum-coloured nails down my chest, drawing blood, and then bends and runs her tongue against each cut she’s just made, lapping it up like a cat. I moan again, and she glances up at me, a look of pure delight in her eyes.

 

She then takes the switchblade and cuts herself, rivulets of blood running down her wrist, trickling down her arm, then puts it close to my mouth, offering it to me. “Don’t want it to ruin my outfit,” she says, a teasing glint in her eyes, as I glance up at her while licking and sucking the blood off her arm.

 

She does the same with her other arm, moaning softly as I taste her, savoring every moment of this sweet indulgence. When I’m done, she starts making little cuts and nicks on my chest, under my collarbone. “Oh, my Spike, you look just like a candy cane, all red and white,” she says, throwing the switchblade behind her, obviously done with it. I look down and see she’s talking about the crimson blood on my pale skin.

 

“And you taste just as delicious, too,” she giggles, as she eagerly laps up the blood on my skin. I groan as she treats me with her mouth, flicking her tongue over my nipples, lightly running her fingers over the muscles in my upper arms. She circles around me, caressing my shoulders, the back of my neck, playing with the padlock chain I’m wearing, causing the most bloody fucking amazing tingles of pleasure to course through me. But leaving me unbelievably sexually frustrated at the same time. That feeling only intensifies as she stands before me, hands on her hips, looking so naughty and enticing and sensual in that punk/Goth/sex fiend outfit of hers.

 

“You want me?” she asks.

 

“You wouldn’t believe how much,” I growl, my lip curling in frustration.

 

She responds by pulling her skirt down, letting it fall, and kicking it aside. I see that her fishnets go all the way up to the tops of her thighs, and she’s wearing these sexy, silky black panties.

 

She comes forward, putting her foot up on my thigh, her stiletto heel digging into my leg and stretches in the most erotic, sexually charged way possible. She throws her head back, her hair brushing her shoulders, and thrusts her pelvis forward as she lifts her shirt up to reveal a little bit of her stomach, one of the straps of her top slipping down onto her arm. I’m so aroused at this point, so hungry for her, that it’s almost painful, but I’m enjoying this far too much to care.

 

“Oh, sweetheart…so bloody gorgeous…” I say huskily. I’m completely unable to even form a coherent sentence. Desire is fogging my brain, coursing through my veins, overtaking my entire body. All I can do is stare, my eyes taking her in, roaming over every inch of the beautiful creature in front of me.

 

She buries her hands in my hair, her fingertips pressing into my scalp, and pulls my head towards her cleavage. God, I love Christmas. I’m slightly distracted by the feeling of her soft skin and the silky material of her shirt against my face but I manage to grasp one of the strings of the corset top she’s wearing with my teeth and pull, effectively untying her shirt. “You want that off?” she asks, smirking at me.

 

“God, yes,” I rasp out.

 

She straddles my leg, sitting on my knee, as she pulls her top off, and I watch as she reveals the smooth tautness of her stomach and I think of how much I would love to drag my tongue against that soft skin from her naval up to her breasts… She’s got a lacy black bra on underneath, the darkness of it a stunning contrast against her porcelain skin.

 

She gets up and before I even have a chance to process what is going on, this vision, this goddess, is kneeling before me, her hands on my knees, keeping my legs spread as she runs her tongue along my inner thighs. I moan with pleasure, then let out a loud hiss as I feel her wet mouth on my arousal, taking all of me in. Oh, God, what is she doing?

 

“Bloody hell, fuck, Drusilla,” I swear loudly as her tongue makes its way up the length of my shaft, her lips pulsating as she goes. Fuck, this is torture. And I never want it to stop.

 

She stands up, her mouth leaving me far too soon, and makes a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue. “Such language,” she says, trying to look disapproving, but her eyes are twinkling mischievously. She moves, leaving my line of vision again and I crane my neck to follow her with my eyes, not wanting to lose sight of her.

 

She stands directly behind me and scratches my neck with her fingernails, not hard enough to draw blood but probably just hard enough to leave a mark, and kisses me passionately from above. I arch my back so much I feel like my spine will snap, my hands tugging at the cuffs that restrain me, trying to tilt my head back as far as I can. Every muscle in my body feels like it’s on fire as we kiss, the electricity between us palpable in the air. Her lips leave mine eventually, and she pushes my head forward again so I can’t see her. She stays behind me for a while, then comes back around, and oh, fuck. She’s taken her bra off, but I only see her from behind and she’s not turning around, teasing me.

 

“Dru-sil-la,” I moan, giving her name a few extra syllables. God, I want her.

 

She glances over her shoulder, peeking through errant strands of her hair, smiling at me. “You want to see?”

 

“Yes, I want to—” My words catch in my throat and the only thing that comes out of my mouth is a slight whimper as she bends over, still keeping her back to me, and takes off her panties tantalizingly slowly. “Oh,” I breathe. “Drusilla, baby, please…”

 

She turns around so I can see her, and I swallow hard and bite my lip as I revel in the sight of her perfect nude form. Well, she’s not completely naked. She’s still got those sexy boots on and those fishnets clinging to her thighs.

 

She approaches me, suddenly swinging one long, thin leg up, over my shoulder, and puts her heel down on the back of the chair. I lean my head against her foot, resting my cheek against the cool leather, desperately wanting just that little bit of contact with her. She starts pushing down her fishnet, revealing a smooth, milky thigh and her position gives me a very good view of what she has between her legs. Fuck, I want her now, I have to touch her now. Holy God, I can’t take this anymore. She rolls her stocking down to the top of her boot, just at her knee, and then puts her leg back down. I let out a groan, and she smiles, moving over to the other side of me and doing the same thing with her other leg. Hell, I just want to be able to lean forward, just a little bit, just enough so I can press my mouth against that spot…

 

She closes her legs again, then rests her knee on the seat of the chair, between my legs, lightly brushing against my arousal, and leans forward. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she kisses me, biting down on my lower lip, sucking on it, and bloody hell, this is too much.

 

Finally, I can’t take it anymore and I absolutely have to touch her, right now. With an animalistic grunt, I pull my arms forward as hard as I can and the handcuffs break through the wood of the chair. As my arms finally encircle Drusilla’s torso, I hear a loud creak. I’ve effectively broken two of the chair’s legs, and as I shift my weight to lean back so I can pull Drusilla close to me, it suddenly gives way, the entire chair collapsing under us. We land on the floor in a messy heap, me on top of the remains of the chair, Dru on top of me.

 

“You all right, baby?” I ask, lifting my head and struggling to sit up.

 

Drusilla giggles as she rolls off of me. “Naughty Spike. You wanted to break the rules so badly you broke the chair.”

 

I flash a grin at her. “Told you I was a bad boy, kitten.”

 

She reaches up to caress the side of my face and leans in to kiss me, but I pull away. “None of that just yet, pet,” I say, smiling. “Now I have to give you your present.”

 

I scoop her up into my arms and carry her over to the bed, depositing her on top of the sheets.

 

Drusilla smiles and stretches, arching her back and opening her legs slightly. “Oh, what is it, my Spike? Tell me,” she demands, pouting a little. She looks so bloody sexy, it takes all my strength to resist taking her right at that moment.

 

“I’ll show you, darling.” I’m wearing a leather wrist cuff covered with metal studs, and I take it off as Drusilla raises her eyebrows in anticipation, waiting to see what I’m going to do. I take the cuff and wrap it around the base of my shaft, only tight enough so that it’ll stay on. I look up and see that Drusilla’s eyes have widened and she’s smiling.

 

“Mmm, Spike,” she says, but before she can say anymore, I’m on the bed, my hands all over her luscious body, my lips on hers, my tongue probing her mouth. Drusilla lies back, pulling me down on top of her.

 

I enter her slowly, unsure of how far I can go with the cuff on and she moans softly in response, and digs her nails into my back. She wraps her legs around me and I can feel her stiletto heels scraping against the backs of my thighs, creating the most erotic sensation as I start to move within her.

 

My movements are restricted a little by the cuff but it’s worth it just to hear the wild moans it elicits from Dru every time the leather and metal touch the most sensitive part of her body. I’m not exactly being quiet myself and I’m quite sure that every driver and every pedestrian on the street outside can hear the sounds of feral passion coming from our open window. Drusilla moves with me, arching her back, her nipples pressing against my chest, her hands caressing my skin.

 

I’m looking at her face as I go and I start to see snowflakes catch in my love’s hair, little white stars in a sea of ebony. I think I’m imagining it until I turn my head to look out the window next to the bed and I see it’s snowing outside, sheets of white coming down, and strong gusts of wind are blowing the snow into the room onto us. I feel Dru’s hand lightly touch my cheek, turning my head and I shift my focus back onto her again, losing myself in the gorgeous depths of her eyes.

 

I feel completely love-drunk, an ecstatic high building within me, and I keep going, sensing that Dru’s close to the edge too, going, pushing forward, until, finally, she shudders beneath me and we cry out, screaming, not giving a fuck who hears, and I collapse on top of her.

 

I whisper things in her ear as we recover, some poetic, some just plain dirty, and she whispers back, not quite finishing her sentences, and gently sucks on my earlobe.

 

Once she’s calmed down, I reluctantly pull away from her and realize that the handcuffs are still on, dangling from my wrists. I hear Drusilla laugh and grin at her. “Care to take these off, pet?”

 

I unwrap the leather cuff from between my legs, and Drusilla removes the handcuffs, massaging my wrists once they’re free. An especially strong gust of wind suddenly blows more snow in and my baby lets out a shriek of delight as her hair is whipped away from her face and the snow swirls around our naked bodies into the room.

 

“Do you want me to close the window, sweetheart?” I tease, already knowing what her answer will be.

 

“Oh, no, Spike, it’s magical,” she says, smiling and gestures with her hands as snowflakes dance around her fingers, coming in with the cold air, twirling madly around us. “Like little frozen teardrops from heaven.”

 

“Love it when you’re poetic, darling,” I whisper and give her a quick but firm kiss on the lips.

 

I pull her boots off her legs as she playfully tries to catch snowflakes with her tongue. As I peel off her tights, I drag my nails lightly against her skin. Judging by the way her eyelashes flutter and her head tilts back a little, she likes it. I can’t help the smile that comes to my face as I listen to her, loving the sound of her soft moans and sighs of contentment as I go from her thighs, down to her knees, her calves, her ankles, down her feet to her purple-polished toenails.

 

When I’ve finished, she lies back on the bed again, and I join her, pulling the sheets up around us as cover from the snow. I hook my arm around her as she starts tracing random patterns on my chest with her fingertips, our legs tangled together beneath the sheets.

 

“William?”

 

“Yeah, love?”

 

Drusilla looks at me, a very sweet and very shy look on her face, which is uncharacteristic for her, to say the least. “Did you like your present?”

 

I grin at her. “I loved it, darling. Did you like yours?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs softly. “You always give me the best gifts. Always.”

 

I smile at her answer and give her a quick kiss on the nose, making her giggle. Unable to resist, I kiss her smiling lips, before wrapping my arms tightly around her and pulling her close.

 

“Merry Christmas, kitten,” I whisper against her hair.

 

“Merry Christmas, my sweet William,” she replies, as she snuggles closer to me.

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