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Hey Smiling Strange

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He loves to watch her hunt. In a blink of an eye the child-like innocence fades to the need of a deadly predator. She moves like a cat, silent, sure-footed, a feral look on her face.

Tonight he watches from the roof tops above, darting lightly from one to another, following her as she prowls the alley below. London, 1944, and even in black-out conditions, there is plenty of prey. Standing three stories above her, he watches her seduce and take down a drunken soldier.

Jumping down, he hears her growl a warning, and can only smile, a wicked twist of the lips. She knows it's him, but will keep him off her prey if she can. Sated by his own hunt, he's content to watch, and leans against a brick building, lighting a cigarette. She slurps loudly, but in this poor district with the traffic along the water-front, no one hears.

Or no one cares enough.

When she drops her victim, she looks up at her lover, the gleam of madness in her eyes.

"All done, Dru?" he asks solicitously.

"He tasted like apple pie and baseball." Lifting her fingers to her lips, she bathes them clean, then flashes him a naughty look. "You like watching me, don't you, my Spike." She licks her lips as well, and he grunts in reaction, his wool trousers tightening as his cock hardens. "Do you want to fuck me here? In this dirty alley? Over the body of this poor, poor soldier?" As she speaks, her voice lyrical with desire, she peels aside the already open bodice of her dress, revealing snowy white breasts tipped in darkest ruby.

Even in the late night darkness, he can see how erect her nipples are. Drusilla leans back against the wall opposite him and lifts her skirt. She is nude beneath it--even vampires have trouble finding nylons these days, and she never wears knickers. Her sweet puss is shrouded by dark curls, and he can see dew glistening on them.

Taking the four steps across the alley to her, Spike unbuttons his trousers and presses their bodies together as he kisses her hungrily, his lips hard, his teeth biting. Drusilla mewls in pleasure and pain and wraps her arms around his neck.

"Spread yourself, luv," he mutters then kisses her again as he feels her legs slide apart. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he guides it between her wet, swollen lips and drives it home with one sure thrust.

Drusilla keens into his mouth and digs her fingers into his hair, pulling until he growls in pain and grips her hips, thrusting hard into her and pounding her against the brick wall. By necessity this mating must be fast, but they also like it that way.

Her first orgasm slams into her and her inner muscles clamp down on his cock. Spike throws his head back, biting back an instinctive howl of pleasure as he feels her come around him, her cool juices spilling over him. He moves harder, faster, his fingers biting into her hips, her ass. He hears her crooning, moaning, whimpering as she writhes against him, one hand around his neck, the other braced on the wall.

Leaning forward, she fastens her lips around his earlobe, worrying it like a dog to a bone, her need frantic. Spike growls and lifts her off the ground, fucking her deeply, madly. His body begins to tense, his balls tightening, but he wants her to come again. After nearly a century, he knows the aids she needs.

"Whore," he growls and kisses her, a hard, punishing kiss. "Slut. Trollop. I watched you seduce that boy, flash him your tits and give him a feel of your cunny. You think you can give what's mine away?"

Pulling out of her, he spins her around, pulls her hips back and forces her head down with one heavy hand on her neck. Drusilla moans and squirms, pressing her hands flat on the wall as she bends over. Spike yanks her skirt back up and smacks one lily white globe before sliding back into her. He fucks her quickly, the new angle sending bolts of pleasure through both of them.

"Grab your ankles, whore." He smacks her again and she cries out, but obeys, bending herself in half. Each hard thrust elicits another cry from her and he reaches between her legs and rubs her clit. "You come only for me."

"Yes, Spike, oh yes," she babbles as her body begins to shudder. One pinch of her clit is all she needs to fall into her second climax. As she bucks against him, Spike wraps one arm around her and braces the other on the wall as he growls and spills into her with hard jerks of his hips.

Gasping for unnecessary breath, Spike pulls out of her and watches her topple to her hands and knees. He fastens his pants, then leans back against the wall and waits.

Slowly Drusilla pushes herself up on unsteady legs and fumbles with the buttons of her dress. Once she's decently covered, she rubs her aching bottom, then scowls at the cooling corpse and kicks it in the head. "See what you made me do? What my Spike had to do to punish me? Nasty soldier boy. You'll never get to come again." Another naughty smile is flashed Spike's way. "But I will, right, my Spike?"

"If you're a good girl." Spike reaches for her and Drusilla slips her hand into his. Pulling her against his side, he nuzzles into her neck, still aroused. "I think that calls for you on your knees for a while, pet, giving my willy a good seeing to you with that naughty mouth of yours."

A shiver goes through her and she squeals as he leads them out of the alley and towards their flat. "Will you spank me afterwards?"

"If you want," Spike replies noncommitally.

As they turn out of the alley, she gives him a strange smile, her eyes going distant. "Daddy will be pleased you've trained me so well."

Shocked, Spike stumbles to a stop, spinning her around and gripping her shoulders. "What?"

The smile remains, but the eyes lighten, and she giggles. "Not for many, many years, but I've seen it. Far away, on the other side of the world, in a wicked place, our place."

He frowns, not at all pleased that she's having visions of Angelus. "Dru..."

"Something else to punish me for," she quips, then breaks his hold and starts to skip down the sidewalk, singing, "Daddy's going to buy me a mocking bird..."