Back in Sunnyhell a month, Spike had spent much of the time scoping out the various vampire clans until finally choosing this one to take over.

Scuffing his toe through all that remained of the former leader, Spike lit a cigarette and pondered his next move. Careful to remain seemingly totally nonchalant, he lowered himself onto the red velvet draped throne and swung one leg over the arm.

"Who's the eldest among you?" he barked.

After a few seconds, an obviously former football player shuffled forward. "Um...me...lord...um...what's your name?"

Spike sighed deeply. How soon they forgot. "Spike," he snapped. "I suggest you learn it quickly."

A buzz spread through the crowd and new looks of respect appeared on all the vampires' faces. Good. They'd heard of him. "So, how old are you, Buzz? Can I call you Buzz?"

"If you wish, Lord Spike," the eldest answered, his eyes downcast. "I was reborn five months and six days ago."

Spike couldn't help but gawk for a second. These were ALL fledglings? What had the idiot, mister dust at his feet, been thinking? And how had he survived as the master of one of the sixteen vampire clans in Sunnydale for even five months and six days? Maybe he'd had older vampires until recently and they'd all been dusted by the Slayer.

Best not to think of her.

"Okay, for now you're my second. Betray me and I'll eat your bollocks for breakfast and then stake you in the sun." The vampire cringed in a nicely obsequious way. "So, listen up, you lot. I'm Master now of you motley crew. You do as I say and we'll get along peachy. Got a few rules, so pay attention; I don't like to repeat myself."

Flicking his cigarette across the room, Spike raised one finger as he stated each of his rules. "One, no one makes any new vampires without my permission. I'm picky about who I let into my clan. Two, you all give the Slayer a wide berth." He stifled the expected outburst with a loud growl. "She's too tough for all of you put together. You want to live, you leave her and her friends alone. Three, you take all your complaints and needs to Buzz and he'll pass them on to me. Four, anyone who wants to move up in the ranks is free to try. I don't prevent any dominance struggles. You get past Buzz to challenge me, though, and you're going to die in a really nasty way. Hmm, I think that does it. Any questions?"

The assembled vampires all shook their heads, their eyes on the floor as they acknowledged his leadership.

"Good." Spike rose to his feet, grabbed a bottle of jack daniels off the bar and headed for his new bedroom. "No one disturb me until tomorrow night." He slammed the door behind him and leaned again it, sighing again.

He'd done it. Taken the first step towards the leadership of the Hellmouth vampires. The first step towards reclaiming what Angelus had stolen so easily from him.

The last time he had done this, he'd started at the top, taking over the number one clan. He'd done it out of desperation. The need to find a cure for Drusilla had swept away all rational thought. It was only pure luck that he hadn't been assassinated that first day after offing the Anointed One.

So, this time he was starting at the bottom, with the worst, most rag-tag clan. And, obviously the youngest.

Well, there was something to say about young minds.

And bodies.

Like Buffy's.

Groaning as the image of her naked and wet from the rain rose before his eyes, Spike opened the bottle and drank a huge gulp.

Four o'clock in the morning and Buffy was still awake. She'd been in bed since shortly after midnight, after an uneventful patrol, and she been tossing and turning since then. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Spike, usually buck naked, his cock hard and throbbing...

Groaning, Buffy flipped to her stomach and pounded on her pillow. It had been like this every night for the past week... every night since the thunderstorm.

Growling into her pillow as heat slammed through her already overheated body, Buffy reached under her bed for the only thing that seemed to help. She had really hoped that tonight would be different, that she'd be able to sleep without resorting to artificial means.

She silently cursed at the part of her that yelled at her to go find a non-artificial means to induce sleep.

Holding up the hard plastic eight inch long vibrator, Buffy groaned and rolled onto her back, one hand shoving her panties down her legs.

The bottle empty, Spike lay in only his jeans on the rather decadent bed--a four poster with crimson and gold hangings, crimson satin sheets and a velvet spread. It made him think of a badly decorated whorehouse he had frequented in London a century before.

Thinking of a whorehouse was the wrong thing to do. His cock twitched and he groaned deeply, closing his eyes in resignation. One more morning of jerking off until he passed out. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take before he went insane and kidnaped Buffy and tied her to this very bed and...

"Fuck," he muttered as his suddenly erect cock pressed painfully against the fly of his jeans. Every day since their last time together, every time he tried to relax and sleep, he'd get a raging hard on. Just the thought of her...

Groaning again, he fumbled with the snap and zipper of his jeans, nearly catching his tender skin in his haste to free his cock. It sprang from the denim, angling up on his stomach, already oozing pre-cum. Closing his eyes, Spike wrapped his hand around the head and squeezed gently, trying to imagine it was Buffy fondling him.

It never worked though. His hand was too cold, too rough, too big. Snarling, he yanked on his cock, truly 'beating his meat', wanting to come quickly and hopefully sleep the day away without any dreams.

In his mind's eye he saw Buffy smiling at him, bending down and sucking his cock into her mouth, licking and teasing...

With a gasp of pleasure, Spike came, covering his hand and stomach with semen. Blinking his eyes open, he gazed down and saw that his cock remained rock hard.

"Fuck," he yelled.

Spreading her legs, Buffy flicked the switch on the vibrator and moaned as it trembled in her hand. Gently she ran it over her wet cleft, then pressed it to her swollen clit. Her back arched and she ran the vibrator in circles, teasing her tender flesh, before sliding it lower and between her folds.

As the vibrator thrust to the hilt inside her quaking pussy, Buffy's fingers found her clit, twisting and pinching it. Her hips began to bounce on the bed as her pleasure grew and she thrust the vibrator at a rapid pace.

Behind her eyes she sw Spike looming over her, thrusting forcefully into her, his cock brushing her throbbing clit, his chest rubbing against her nipples and making them ache.

Leaving the vibrator deep inside her, Buffy moved that hand up to her breasts, sliding it beneath her t-shirt to fondle the hard nipples. Hissing in pleasure, she squirmed, wishing she had three hands.

The tension grew and she pressed hard on her clit, rubbing it furiously as she kneaded one breast and the vibrator made her shake. With a hoarse whimper, she came, her body shuddering from release.

Gasping for breath, she removed the vibrator with a shaky hand and turned it off. Limp and tired, she managed to shove it under the bed before she collapsed on the damp pillows. Her heart rate began to slow and she opened her eyes to stare at the dark ceiling.

A twinge from her pussy made her groan. Self-satisfaction was no longer enough. Pressing one hand between her legs, Buffy rolled onto her side and began to caress her clit. Dimly she wondered how many orgasms it would take tonight before she would finally fall asleep.

Cursing savagely under his breath, Spike jerked off his jeans and wiped the semen from his stomach before stomping over to the door. Flinging it open, he looked at the few remaining vampires. The blonde female was sitting on a bench ignoring the overtures of one of the males.

"You, blondie," Spike growled in her direction. Her head went up and her eyes widened before dropping. "Come here."

Quickly she jumped to her feet and hurried over to him, her eyes on the floor. It was beginning to annoy him that they all stared at the floor around him, but he didn't mention it since he really didn't want to see her face. Taking her arm, Spike pulled her into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

"Can you shift and stay shifted?" he asked, knowing that it was often difficult for fledglings to maintain their human facade, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with fangs.

"Yes master." Even with her head lowered, he could see the demon retreat. Her hair was a pleasant gold color and fell straight to just past her shoulders. She was a little tall, but nicely shaped. She'd do.

"Undress and no more speaking. You can grunt and moan and hiss and growl all you like, but no words."

Nodding, she began to pull off her dress, kicking her shoes aside. Her body was white and curvy, her breasts high and tipped pale pink. Her mound was framed with golden curls. A natural blonde.

Spike quickly looked back at her breasts, then raised his hands to cup them, tracing his thumbs over the nipples until they swelled. His cock throbbed insistently and he placed his hands on the female's shoulders, guiding her down.

She dropped gracefully to her knees and her delicate hand circled his cock, making him hiss with need. Her tongue lapped at the underside, then around the weeping slit, before her mouth closed over the head, sucking him to the edge of her throat.

His hands went to her hair, mussing it and bringing it over her face so he couldn't see her features. Closing his eyes, he groaned as her lips sucked and her tongue flicked his sensitive flesh. For just a moment in his head he saw Buffy on her knees, eagerly sucking his cock down her throat, her little hand fondling his balls. But the image faded too quickly.

The female's mouth felt good, better than his hand...but it was too cold...too fucking cold.

Growling in frustration, Spike dragged the female to her feet and pushed her onto her hands and knees on the bed. She spread her legs, burying her face in the bedding, her bottom wriggling slightly in anticipation.

Standing behind her, Spike pulled her back until her ass rubbed his lower stomach. His cock slid along her cleft and her felt her wetness coat him like ice cream.

He didn't delude himself into thinking that anything he'd done or she'd done to him had turned her on so quickly. It was the power he was giving her. Power was often an aphrodisiac to vampires. She was his first fuck in the clan and she thought that meant something.

All it meant was that he was tired of fucking rosy and her five friends.

Gripping her hips, Spike slammed his cock into her, groaning at how tight she was--very unusual in vampire females who were usually fucked by all the males on a regular basis if they weren't claimed by anyone in particular. Maybe she had been the former master's.

Didn't matter. She was his now. Spike grunted as he thrust rhythmically, his stomach slapping hard against her wriggling ass. Her moans of pleasure filled his ears and he closed his eyes again, Buffy's golden beauty filling his head. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel her inner heat caressing his thrusting cock, her tight muscles clenching and squeezing...

With a loud growl, Spike came, pounding into the female and driving her down into the bed. She bucked back valiantly, milking his cock, mewling lustily.

Staggering back, Spike managed to collapse on the bed and not the floor and watched through hooded eyes as his cock began to sink. The female rose to her knees, her head still bowed. What little he could see of her face was flushed with borrowed blood and she was panting with need. Her hands clenched into fists on her knees, but she made no move to bring herself pleasure.

Sighing, Spike beckoned her forward. She'd done what he'd asked, given him a much needed orgasm. He wasn't his prick of a sire. No lover, however unwanted, left his bed unsatisfied.

As the female lay on her side next to him, her hair still hiding her features, as if she knew he didn't want to see her face, Spike slid down the bed and lifted one of her legs to wrap it around his waist. Fastening his lips over one of her erect nipples, he plunged his fingers into the damp curls at the juncture of her thighs, quickly finding and rubbing her pulsing clit.

It took Buffy four orgasms, the last one requiring nearly a half hour of four fingers plunging in her pussy and her thumb brushing her sore clit, before she was able to drift to sleep, her thoughts centered on an annoying bottle blonde pain in the ass...who kissed like the world was ending.

Spike slept like the dead, on his side, his cock buried in the females's pussy as she spooned back against him. He'd never asked her name; she'd never spoken, obeying him to the letter. After making her come, he'd thought about kicking her out, then decided against it. Turning her away from him, he'd wormed his half-hard cock into her as the exhaustion crept over them both.

That way, when he woke up hard as a rock from dreaming all day of a golden skinned, sassy mouthed warrior woman, he didn't have to look far for release.

 

The End

 

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