"It's all so pretty!"
Spike stared first in disbelief at his looney lover, than at the horror of strobe lights, glitter balls, metallic clothes, and big hair that surrounded them.
He was in a disco. A disco!
"Kill me now," he muttered, clutching Drusilla's hand tightly as she tried to flitter off to join the gyrating dancers. Self- consciously he tugged on his spiked collar and knew, even though none of the mirrors revealed his reflection, that he didn't fit in. They were only inside because Drusilla had put the whammy on the bouncer.
Plus she'd flashed a tit at him which was still pissing Spike off.
"And the music is so bouncy. So much brighter and more fun than those nasty songs you listen to."
"I thought you liked the Sex Pistols," he protested, frowning at the face she made.
"That's what we like about them."
"These people are clean. Clean yet dirty. Dying." A smile crossed her luminous face. "So many are dying and don't even know it. The pretty white powder and the naughty relations will kill so many." The smile turned from dreamy to crafty and she tugged him onto the dance floor. "Dance with me, my knight."
Spike watched as her silky skirt twirled around her slender legs and her hair spilled down her back, and stomped after her in his combat boots, torn jeans, and safety-pinned Ramones t-shirt.
He caught her spinning in the midst of other gyrating dancers, some doing set moves, others just shaking their asses and flinging their arms in the air. Pulling Drusilla against him, he started to sway just as the music changed from boogy oogy oogying down--whatever the hell that meant--to something slower about a cake melting in the rain.
And they said punk had weird lyrics.
As Drusilla pressed against him, arms twining around his neck and fingers dancing into his hair, Spike felt the familiar yet always welcome desire bloom within him. Sparkles and streamers fell from the ceiling, and as the wind machine picked up, he caught another scent besides sweat, booze and cigarette smoke.
Lots of it.
Glancing up to the balconies that ringed the large dance floor he could easily make out couples, dozens of them, in various stages of dress, in various positions.
"People are being wicked," Drusilla whispered in his ear before biting the lobe. "They don't know true evil is among them. Shall we show them?" As she spoke, her hand slid down his spine to squeeze his ass.
"Although I'd be completely happy to slaughter as many as we could, that might just bring down the Slayer, so why don't we just..." He lowered his voice and whispered, "Go upstairs and show these mortals how to really fuck like there's no tomorrow."
Drusilla giggled and swatted his ass. "Wicked Spike."
He nipped her neck and ground his pelvis against hers, then spun her around and urged her through the crowd to a set of steps. They passed a counter on which lay uneven lines of cocaine, and Drusilla trailed her fingers through them and brought them to her lips.
"Oooh. Makes me dizzy."
Shaking his head at the sight of so much free coke, Spike took a pinch and snorted it, then held another pinch up to Drusilla's nose.
"Tickles!" Wiping her nose, she danced up the stairs, Spike following her.
The balcony was dark but packed with people, men, women, in couples and groups, groping and kissing. As they made their way through the crowd to an empty spot at the railing, Spike saw two women giving a man a blowjob, a man giving another man a blowjob, and at least six couples fucking against the wall and one over a table. No one seemed to care that they were on display. The aroma of sex hung heavy in the air and the sounds of groans and whimpers were only partially drowned out by the music.
Catching up to Drusilla, he came up behind her as she looked over the railing at the writhing mass on the dance floor.
"The world has become something not even the most evil among us could ever have imagined. Do you think this rivals the court of Calligula?"
"Probably." And they both knew what happened to Rome as it fell into decadence. "What a glorious time to be alive." He wrapped his hands around her and cupped her breasts through her thin camisole, squeezing them until the nipples hardened against his palms. "We'll see the end of this civilization, too, my pet."
"I don't think so," she murmured, "In the end, you'll be on the wrong side."
Spike frowned and opened his mouth to ask her what she was on about, but then she reached back and fondled his cock through his jeans and all rational thought fell out of his head. "Shittttttt!"
Drusilla squeezed and he went to his toes, head arched back, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.
"Take me," she begged. "Take me here, above the dancers. They'll never know. It'll be our secret."
Ignoring her babbling--outside of the 'take me' bit, Spike continued to fondle her breasts with one hand as he hitched up her skirt with the other. As she fumbled with the fastenings of his jeans, sliding down the zipper, he slipped his fingers into her, feeling her wetness drip over them.
Her dimpled ass rubbed against his erection as it popped free of his jeans, and he groaned loudly. "Bend over, luv."
"No. Take me in my bottom," she ordered. "Like her."
"Huh?" He had another brain melt as her fingers wrapped around his cock and caressed it in hard, fast strokes that left him panting her name. Pulling his fingers from her, he slid them into her bottom, pumping her wetness into him. Still, he knew he'd hurt her.
He knew she wanted that.
Spike let her guide him, watching as his cock sank past the tight ring of muscles, his hips driving slowly forward. Her hand fell away to grip the railing and his slid down to her stomach, holding her tightly against him.
"They'll never know," she panted, squirming slightly against him, pulling him deeper into her body. "Watching them from above, ignorant."
"Dru, luv, shut up," he hissed through clenched teeth as his eyes rolled back in his head and his hips slammed forward, making her whimper and shudder.
He bit her neck, sucking on the cool, taut skin as his hips began to churn and his cock throbbed and ached in her tight passage. With each thrust he pulled her back against himself, then drove her forward against the railing, making it shudder. She continued to whimper and arch against him, and he could smell her growing desire, feel it in her trembling body, but he knew she wouldn't come like this.
He could lift her skirts and finger-fuck her, but after a hundred years together he knew her well enough to know that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to stand there and watch the crowd and have him fuck her without her doing much of anything but letting him.
It drove him wild. Clenching his teeth, Spike pumped harder, driving her to her toes, her whimpers fueling him further, until finally he growled into her throat and came.
Sagging against her, he kissed her neck and shoulder, murmuring sweet-nothings to her, as his body calmed. Finally, he pulled out of her and tucked his cock away, fixing his clothing. Drusilla smoothed down her skirt, and turned, an odd look on her face.
"You will do this again."
"Yeah, I'm sure we will," he replied with a wolfish grin of satisfaction.
Drusilla shook her head slightly, then swayed. "Ooh, dizzy again, and hot." Her look turned petulant. "Bring me someone to eat me, and someone for me to eat."
Spike's grin widened and he loped off to find a willing couple as Drusilla sank into a chair. He'd pick up some more of the coke, maybe some beer, and find a couple. Maybe he'd do the guy while they watched the girl eat Drusilla's pretty muff.
And then they'd feed.
Maybe Studio 54 wasn't such a bad place after all.
Though anyone singing "Boogie Wonderland" truly deserved to die.