Author: Holly (holly.hangingavarice@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: All Human
Warnings: Sexual content, taboo subject, language. Please, if sexual acts between step-siblings offends you, do not read this.
Summary: After Buffy catches him in the middle of an intimate act, Spike decides punishment is in order.
Prompt: 20_hot_prompts - "at the movies"

Disclaimer: The characters herein are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. They are being used out of respect and admiration, and not for the sake of profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

There were sounds coming from her step-brother’s room she’d never heard before. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Spike was a healthy, red-blooded male and she knew he had a penchant for jerking it whenever the mood took him, which, considering he was nineteen, was quite often. There were times, admittedly, when she lurked purposefully outside his bedroom during his private time. It was a sick fetish, she knew, but nothing got her hotter than hearing his accented voice whimper and moan as her mind filled in the blanks of what her eyes couldn’t see.

It was a side effect of being hopelessly infatuated with her step-brother, something with which she’d wrestled for the better part of ten years. People said girls matured faster than boys, but Buffy didn’t think that meant she was supposed to crush hard on the boy two years her senior from the moment she laid eyes on him. After all, forming an attachment when she was seven hadn’t been in the fine print. Crushes at that age were supposed to have an expiration date; they weren’t supposed to grow into an unhealthy obsession of catastrophic proportions.

“I’m sick,” Buffy murmured, her feet carrying her toward her step-brother’s door. “I need help because I’m sick.”

But that wasn’t the point. The point was there were currently sounds emanating from Spike’s room she hadn’t heard before, but given the cheesy music and the heavy moans, there wasn’t much room for mystery.

Porn. She’d never watched porn, but she had enough street knowledge to know what it sounded like. Spike was watching porn.

And today, for whatever reason, his door wasn’t closed all the way.

Just walk away. Turn around and walk away.

But she couldn’t just walk away. Spike’s door was open, which meant for the first time since they’d lived under the same roof, she could sneak a peek of what kept her up at night. There was nothing that could keep her from pressing her inquisitive nose to the crack, her wide, eager eyes landing immediately on her step-brother’s perfect body. He really was perfect; it was totally unfair the scraggly kid she’d thought was cute in a funny way as a child had turned into a model of male perfection. Toned abs and well-roped muscles in a body that wasn’t too large to dwarf her like the boys at school, he fed fantasies just by existing.

The fact he was currently sitting stark naked on his bed, his back to her, was totally unfair. Buffy bit back a whimper and pressed her thighs together, her veins running hot and her pussy immediately drenched. Too faultless, he was much too faultless, and she needed to see more.

His left hand was curled around his cock, stroking in a mesmeric rhythm to the sight on screen, where some blonde on all fours, getting pounded from behind while her mouth worked on another guy’s dick. Buffy licked her lips. That was interesting and all, but her attention was warped with Spike. The way he pulled and moaned, the way his hand closed around the tip of his cock before again sliding out of sight. He was so…

“Beautiful.”

The word was never meant to escape, but somehow escape it did. Spike immediately stilled, reaching for the remote with his free hand to put the film on pause. “Buffy?”

Okay, so thundering away from the scene of the crime probably wasn’t the best idea, but the mind reacted in a funny way to panic. At the time all she’d known was she needed to get out of there and pronto. It didn’t matter until much later how much sound she made.

And later came much sooner than she would have liked.

She was certain everyone in the tri-state area could hear her heart pounding. How did one typically act in these situations? Buffy didn’t know, but she was fairly certain sitting at the island in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea and pretending her blood didn’t race when she heard Spike’s heavy steps plonker down the stairs wasn’t in the rule book. Then again, if there was a rule book, watching her step-brother jerk it was likely listed in the long page of no-no’s.

God, she was helpless.

“Morning, love,” Spike said cheerily, flashing her a grin and making his way to the cupboard. Damn boy. He hadn’t even the decency to put on clothes. He stood completely naked from the waist up; the waist down was dressed in a pair of sweats that rode low on his hips. Just an inch or two lower and she’d see dark hairs at his groin—the sort betraying his natural hair color.

Gah. Those wiry muscles did her in. Spike was a walking testament to how much working out did the body good.

Oh God. So yummy.

Buffy lifted her cup to her lips, murmured a response, then slurped the rest down in a hurry.

“Where are the folks?”

“Gone,” she said. Her face was on fire. “One of their spontaneous trips to LA.”

They did that often, her mother and step-dad. It was a part of what kept the romance alive.

“Mmm,” Spike murmured. “So…we have the house all to ourselves, eh?”

Buffy swallowed hard and nodded. “Looks like.”

“Feature taking in a show?”

She made an exaggerated face and shook her head. Alone in a dark theater with Spike for two hours…there was no way she could keep her hands to herself, not when there was so much of him she wanted to touch. And that way paved a road of utter and complete badness. “Nothing good is out,” she volunteered, and that much was true. Their one horse town cinema rarely hosted anything worth watching.

“Wasn’t thinking we’d have to go anywhere,” Spike replied suggestively. “Got something we can watch right here.”

Buffy’s mind flickered back to the film and heat flooded her cheeks. Sure, he’d caught her watching him masturbate, but he’d certainly not make her sit through…that with him…would he?

One look into his twinkling blue eyes sealed the deal. He so would.

Crap, she was toast.

At any rate, this would be the ideal place to intervene and fess up all her crimes just to spare herself any further humiliation. Yes, brother dear, I did happen to see you beating the bishop, but it was honestly your fault for not shutting the door all the way. Really. Now can we just agree to never mention this again? By the way, I’m in love with you.

Yeah, that’d go over well.

“I’m not really in, uhhh, a movie-watching mood,” Buffy said lamely, casting her gaze southward, her cheeks burning.

“Oh, come on, sis.” Spike’s brows perked with challenge. “Do me a jolly and sit through a few minutes, yeah?”

A few minutes of porn with her gorgeous, drool-inspiring, panties-drenching step-brother?

“Just a few minutes?”

He nodded. “Just a few minutes.”

A few minutes. Okay. Inhale, exhale. She could do this. She could so totally do this. This was of the done.

“I-I can do a few minutes.”

Spike drew back with a smirk. “Right then,” he purred, tossing her a careless wink before practically sauntering toward the door. “Meet you in the den in five. Oh…and Buffy?”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

His eyes raked down her body, and for the first time she became completely aware of how not much she wore. It being fairly early, she hadn’t yet donned a pair of jeans or changed out of her sleep shirt. So she sat in all her early-Buffy morning attire. A longish tee that hit her knees and nothing but her incredibly boring panties underneath.

There was no earthly reason her blahness should attract that look from her step-brother.

Especially considering the step-brother part.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Formal dress is definitely optional,” he said.

And then he was gone, tearing up the stairs and leaving her in a state of near panic.

Was he teaching her a lesson or was this for real?

Buffy expelled a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.

He was on the couch by the time she worked up the courage to enter the room. After much soul-searching, Buffy had decided to take his invitation to heart. She hadn’t changed, though she’d considered throwing on everything from jeans to a snowsuit to avoid the awkwardness of formal dress optional, but in the end this was her game. If he wanted to teach her a lesson, well, he’d have to find a more inventive way of watching porn. She was a mature, sophisticated seventeen year old, not some granny with a heart condition. She could do this. She could so totally do this.

“Take a seat, love,” Spike said, patting the empty space beside him.

Buffy licked her lips and nodded, moving wordlessly to do as he instructed. It didn’t matter that her heart was pounding; she could get through this. Five minutes, he’d said. Five. That was three hundred seconds, which sounded a lot more reasonable than five minutes, so she decided to start a backwards count to cue her exit.

“You look nervous,” he said.

“I’m not,” she replied, much too quickly to be anything but nervous.

One of Spike’s eyebrows drew itself into a perfect dome. “Something on your mind, pet?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely positive.” Buffy waved at the television. “Let’s get this show on the road. I have things I want to do today.”

“Things?”

“Important things. Mall things.”

Spike smirked and sat back, pointing the remote at the television. “Well,” he drawled. “Wouldn’t want to interfere with ‘mall things.’”

“What are we watching?”

Good God, had she really just asked that? Wasn’t the situation awkward enough?

“Mmmm.” There was that purr again. “Since you were so interested in what I was watching upstairs, I thought you might like a gander.”

It was one thing having a theory; having that theory proven and put into motion was something completely different. All at once, the cool exterior began to melt, her heart thrown again into wild palpitations that would certainly render her the only girl her age to ever die of cardiac arrest.

“Spike, let me explain—”

He held up a hand and shook his head. “No need to explain, kitten,” he said. “I’d’ve been mighty curious, too.”

Then the television flickered to life and the screen alit with the sight of a woman, the same woman she’d seen before, sprawled on a kitchen table, a man going to town on her pussy with his mouth.

Buffy’s jaw fought to keep from hitting the floor.

Here we go.

Having never given porn a thought besides eww, gross, Buffy had never considered the possibility she might like it.

A lot.

She felt hot and squirmy. Keeping still became a measure of control, and she had so little of it, though if she was completely honest that had more to do with Spike’s eyes on her than the acts of depravity taking place on screen.

He wasn’t watching the video at all.

“Makes you hot, doesn’t it?” Spike asked thickly. His left hand was moving. Oh Jesus, he was rubbing himself through his sweats. Buffy’s mouth fell agape but closed just as quickly, her face hot and her blood sizzling.

“I…ummm…”

“That’s why you peeked in, right?”

Buffy shook her head without thinking.

“No?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, of all the incredibly lame things she could say, that was quite possibly the lamest. She didn’t know what he was talking about? Please. This whole thing was a charade. A poorly acted one, maybe, but a charade nonetheless. They both knew what they were doing sitting on this couch, watching a blonde woman eat some guy’s cock while another pumped his fingers between her slick folds.

They knew what they were doing.

Thankfully, Spike decided to forgive her verbal folly and let the matter drop. Instead of pursuing her discomfort where that was concerned, he chose another route completely. “You’re hot, aren’t you?”

Buffy blinked wildly. “What?”

“This makes you hot. I bet if I…” Much too relaxed, his right arm dropped between her legs, fingers pressing against her pussy with such casualness it had the room spinning around her. As though they did this every day. As though Spike’s fingers against her intimately wasn’t a new sensation at all.

“Ohh, yeah,” he murmured, hand ducking under the hemline of her tee. “My hot little minx.” His fingers dove beneath the elastic band of her panties and settled through her nest of curls. “Christ, you’re drenched.”

“Oh, shit.”

“That’s right.” He rubbed a tantalizing line between her pussy lips, the television forgotten, then slipped a finger inside her tight hole and hissed. “Bloody hell…”

“Oh my God!”

“Feel so warm.” Spike licked his lips, his fingers assuming a natural rhythm. In and out, in and out, warm, gooey fluid drenching his skin. It felt good—God, it felt incredible. Her heart hammered and her head spun and she was at once certain she’d passed out and was having some terrifically improbable dream, because there was no way Spike was finger-fucking her. No way.

Then he touched her clit and her body gave way to hard, uncontrollable shudders. It was embarrassing how quickly she came. How fast it was over. White flashed through her veins and had her insides ready to ignite, and then it was over. The television played on in the background, the same blonde now getting pounded by both guys, and Buffy sat with nerves that refused to relax with Spike’s hand in her panties.

“What…the…”

Without warning, his touch slipped away, leaving her pussy feeling empty and her body bereft. Buffy turned to look at him, words her enemy which was all right because before she could say anything, he’d pulled his fingers inside that hot mouth of his and licked her honey right off.

“Mmm,” Spike murmured, eyes blazing. “You taste good.”

“What the…hell…was that?”

“Something I’ve wanted longer than I reckon I should say.” He took one of her hands in his and placing it rather roughly against his cotton-clad erection. “What do you say, love?”

What did she say? What was there to say?

Buffy had no idea. The room was still spinning. She couldn’t get in a word edgewise.

But as Spike rubbed her hand against his cock, she had an idea of what he wanted.

And what she so desperately wanted to give.

Fingers tunneled through her hair, jerking her forward, wordlessly demanding, pleading, begging her as her mouth tightened around him. She had a hand filled with his balls, and took to squeezing them delicately every few seconds as her other worked up and down his shaft, her mouth pulling, sucking, tending sweetly to his cock as she attempted to take his babbling instructions to heart.

“So fucking good,” Spike whispered, hips thrusting almost subconsciously. “Oh yeah, kitten. Close your lips around the tip. Just…oh God, yes.”

Behind her, the blonde on the screen was servicing two men at once. But in the real world, Buffy was a seventeen year old virgin who had never given a blow job before. Sure, she’d kissed boys and done the whole age appropriate relationship thing, but when Angel had pressed her to show some boob, she’d declined. When Riley tried to put her hand where she didn’t want it, she socked him. When Spike, her ¬step-brother, made her sit through porn and fingered her into oblivion, she got her knees and sucked him for all either of them were worth.

“Such a hot little mouth,” Spike hissed. “God, love this. Love watching you…suck me. Suck me like that.”

The ache between her legs had never been more prominent. Every pull at his flesh made her hotter, wetter, made her need more than the fleeting moment of insanity they enjoyed together. God, she loved how he tasted. So rich and musky, so completely male. He wasn’t circumcised—not like the guys in the movie, but he taught her what he liked with gestures and subtle direction. He liked it when she used her lips to drag his flesh over his tip. He liked it when her tongue delved under his foreskin to lick around his mushroom-shaped head. He liked it when she pulled him so far into her throat she nearly gagged, though something told her that wasn’t really linked to being circumcised as much as it was to being male. He liked it when she flattened her tongue along the underside of his cock and sucked, and he even liked the feel of her teeth just barely skimming his sensitive flesh.

“So hot, so hot,” Spike babbled, hips thrusting upward. “God, need to be inside you.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Wanted this so long. Harder. Suck me harder.”

So she did. She sucked harder. She sucked until the tremors in his legs broke across his body, until he was panting and moaning and thrusting so deep into her mouth he became a part of her. Her tastebuds exploded with a warm, salty sensation she’d never before experienced, but knowing immediately what it was she wasted no time swallowing him down.

It was a part of Spike, after all, and she loved him.

The air around them settled. Spike panted. Buffy sat back until his cock slipped out of her mouth, then looked up at him askance. Where did they go from here? Where was there to go?

The world around them dissolved, and there was nothing left but the heavy sounds of the on-screen fucking.

It took a few minutes, but Spike eventually gathered his bearings enough to reach for the remote and shut the television off. Then he turned those hot eyes to her, and what she saw there absolutely made her bones tremble.

“On the couch,” he commanded, rising to his feet.

It seemed they weren’t done yet.

Buffy hadn’t known pleasure—true pleasure—until this moment.

She was on the couch, lying askew, Spike perched between her legs, her knees hooked over his naked shoulders. The fingers that had made themselves home in her pussy were back, pumping experimentally into her body as his mouth sucked on her clit. Every nerve in her body was on fire, and every pull of his lips only fanned the flames. She was going to explode into a fiery array of little bits of Buffy, and she didn’t care. She couldn’t care about anything as long he continued making love to her with his mouth.

“Taste so sweet,” Spike murmured. “Can’t wait to feel you around my prick.”

Buffy gasped. “Around…your…Spike…”

“Mmm, yeah. Around my spike.”

“Spike!”

Spike grinned up at her, his mouth shining with her juice. And God, if that didn’t get her hotter than anything she’d ever seen before… “Only one way this can end, love,” he said, head ducking to suck her clit between his lips again. The fingers pumping into her stretched her slowly, making room for a third. “Never let anyone in here, have you? I’ll be your first.”

Buffy nodded blindly. “Spike, this is…we have to…”

“What? Stop?” He shook his head, flicking her swollen pearl with his tongue. “You set the rules.”

“What?”

“Sneaking up on me, watching me during a very private moment.” He grinned. “Did you think I was just gonna let you walk away from that?”

She shook her head hard. “I didn’t mean to…to spy…”

“Mmm.” Spike slowly withdrew his fingers from her pussy, tugging her forward until she fell off the couch and into his waiting arms. He was naked now—how long had he been naked? Had to have been since the blowjob, but oh, it didn’t matter anymore because he was on the floor, she was astride him, and her naked pussy hovered just above his very erect cock. And while she knew, logically, what was about to happen, understanding and reality couldn’t mesh until his thick prick wormed between her slick lips and began to ease inside her.

Pain was secondary in that second—yes, she felt it, yes, but the overwhelming sensation of being impaled, driven, consumed…that was what she would remember in days to come. Hell, in years to come. Not the way her muscles clamped and whined with pain. It was a toss between being devoured and the look on Spike’s face. As though he’d been living a half-life since coming downstairs, as though he didn’t realize fully what he’d done until her pussy clamped around him. The cocky swagger was gone—all that was left was pure bliss.

“Christ.” His fingers dug into her hips. “Buffy…”

“I don’t…I don’t know what…”

“Up and down, darling,” he urged softly, the hands at her hips guiding her into small thrusts just until she grew accustomed to the sensation. “Oh, yeah, just like that.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say or not—in a thousand years, she couldn’t have suspected this was where the day would lead them. Riding her step-brother’s cock, the air around them mute save their mingled breaths and the sound of their bodies colliding. It took a few tentative thrusts, but slowly she gained the hang of it. And he was right—up and down, up and down. Whatever pain remained dissipated after a few awkward seconds, and then there was nothing but sensation.

“Wanted this,” Spike murmured, hands abandoning her hips to slip under her shirt. Then his hands were on her breasts, thumbs playing with her nipples as his hips rolled under hers. “Wanted this so long.”

“Did you?” Buffy breathed, feeling slightly dizzy. There was no way this actually happening. It was a dream. It had to be a dream.

He nodded. “Every day. Every second of every day.”

“But…” She frowned, grinding harder against him. “You never…you never said…”

“It’s wrong, innit?”

Buffy shook her head. “Not wrong, not wrong,” she argued, suddenly convinced for reasons she couldn’t explain. The pressure she’d felt earlier was building again, her movements gaining confidence. Soon she felt his fingers on her mound, circling her clit in a manner that nearly hurt for how sensitive she was. But she wouldn’t ask him to stop, she couldn’t ask him to stop. Not for anything in the world.

“How long?” Spike panted.

“What?”

“How long…have you wanted me?”

“Long.”

He grinned. “Why, Buffy. Never knew you felt this way.”

“Love you.”

Spike’s eyes went wide. So did hers. She so hadn’t meant for that to come out.

“You love me?”

“I…”

“Oh, Buffy…”

Air whipped across her back and the next thing she knew, Spike was over her, thrusting hard and panting hotly in her ear. He eased back the second he sensed pleasure transcend into pain, but he never lost his edge. He was a man in need—she felt it with every parry—and she was for what he pined.

“You love me?” Spike demanded, lips tearing down her throat. The air was heavy with the sound of flesh smacking together. She felt so wet, and growing wetter. Every plunge drew her closer to something she couldn’t name. Something she wanted so bad she felt it with every pull of her body. “Tell me you love me, Buffy. I need to hear it.”

“I love you,” she said again, clawing at him. “I love you. Spike!”

“Fuck yeah…” His hand was between them again, manipulating her clit. “Want it now. Wanna feel you drench my cock.”

“Ohhh…”

“Come for me, Buffy…”

It was something she never thought she’d be able to do on command, but with his cock stabbing her pussy, his fingers stroking her, his lips on her skin, it came easily. The explosion mounted and detonated, shards of pleasure rippling through her body and leaving her completely unmade.

And when he whispered he loved her, too, and always had, she thought for certain this was the part where she woke up.

But she didn’t wake up. She didn’t.

Instead, Spike smiled into her eyes and kissed her for the first time.

The first time. Not the last.

This was just the beginning.