‘Oh, look at my poor neck! All bare and tender and exposed… All that blood just pumping away…’
Spike shudders where he sits chained to the bathtub. He can smell her, smell her blood pumping through her veins, he can see it, throbbing and alive, and he would like nothing better than to bite down and drink deep.
‘Giles, make her stop!’ he calls to the Watcher, who has just left the room muttering to himself, but there’s no reply.
Buffy smirks at him.
‘You’re sadistic, you know that, Slayer?’ Spike grumbles. ‘I mean it, you could give me a run for my money.’ He pauses, giving it some thought. ‘In fact, you could give Dru a run for her bloody money, and she’s insane!’
‘Aww, poor Spikey!’ Buffy says with a mock pout. She leans in closer. ‘You know, there are lots of ways you could make this easier, like for instance telling me what you know!’
If he could move just an inch closer to her now, he could bite her. If it weren’t for his little problem, that is. Her neck looks so delectable, so tasty, and also, he admits to himself, so bloody hot. He looks away, shutting his eyes momentarily to prevent himself from going into game face. He has a very distinct feeling that if he even tries, he’ll be dust before long. At the moment, though, he’s not entirely certain that he cares.
He takes a deep breath. ‘Please,’ he tries, ‘May I have some blood?’
She leans in just a little more and whispers, ‘No.’
It only takes a second. If he tries to bite her, it’ll hurt him a lot more than it’ll have time to hurt her, he knows that… But he doesn’t have to bite.
She’s close enough. Before she has the opportunity to react, he lunges, attaching his lips to her neck, just below the ear. A minute nibble, a little lick…
Buffy yelps and stands up, her hand flying to her neck. It comes away wet with saliva, but no blood. ‘What the hell?’
Spike leans back in the tub and smirks up at her. She blinks at him, a slow blush creeping up her face. Most likely it’s due to anger, but Spike finds himself wondering if it couldn’t also have something to do with the feel of his lips on her skin.
‘What the actual fuck was that, Spike?’ she demands. He shrugs, himself not entirely certain. He did it on pure impulse. It was worth it, though, for the look on her face, and he suppresses a smirk.
She looks away in disgust, shaking her head. ‘God, you really must be desperate…’
‘And whose ruddy fault is that?’ says Spike, calmly. ‘Just let me have my sodding blood, love, and stop being such a bitch.’
She makes an exasperated noise, but then she picks up the mug of pig’s blood and takes a seat on the edge of the tub once more.