when: 2007-09-01 15:25 what: Bring back the Porn Fic: "No Risk Involved" filter: Public where: home feeling like: good tag: adult, fic, spike/tara

Title: No Risk Involved
Rating: STRICTLY ADULTS ONLY
Pairing: Spike/Tara, Spike/Buffy mentioned, Tara/Willow mentioned
Warnings: Explicit heterosexual sex, no kinks
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, but Joss said we could play with them. Thank you, Joss!
Summary: Set BtVS season 6, when Spike and Buffy's "relationship" was still going on, and Tara and Willow were separated. Spike gets an unexpected visitor and an even more unexpected proposition.
Word Count: 4302
Author's Note: Written for bbtp_challenge, 1st September 2007 only at InsaneJournal. First time I've written anything explicit, and bloody hell it's difficult! Un-beta'd, self-edited under influence of wacky pills (very necessary pain killers). I aim to titillate and I also aim to improve, so any feedback is welcomed - even con-crit. Thank you, I hope you enjoy. :)

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Spike tongued his split lip and looked down at his body, he poked a finger at the bruises on his ribs, and sighed. Both were nearly healed: the evidence of Buffy's visit not lasting long tonight. He'd prepared himself beforehand with some stolen bags of human from the blood bank: mainly for some added stamina, but she hadn't wanted to take advantage unfortunately, more a quick bout of 'kick the Spike' as fore-play and an even quicker fuck. He sighed and dropped his head back against the headboard, dropped his hands down by his sides. With his fingertips he lightly smoothed the silky dark red sheets he'd also stolen for the bed: they were frustratingly un-ruffled. He and Buffy hadn't even made it to the bed tonight. He stared at the rough ceiling, tongue poking his lip again to keep it open a few minutes more, to make the evidence of her visit more tangible than the faint lingering scent of her: perfume and sweat and the dust of the poor sod she'd staked on her way over.

He groaned silently at sounds of movement upstairs. The door was broken again so it wouldn't close, and he hadn't had the time to fix it yet. The footsteps weren't Buffy's, so that left the usual suspects: either a suicidally dim teenager out for more-spooky-than-they'd-bargained-for graveyard kicks, some demon looking for a likely place to call home, or some other demon with a more personal reason to visit his crypt. Options one and three meant lying low, option two meant kicking up a stink, and misjudging which option was not advisable. As quietly as he could he slid off the bed and pulled on jeans, boots and duster, the only t-shirt in reach had been the victim of Buffy's earlier impatience, so he went without.

He stood dead still in the darkest shadows against the wall, eyes trained on the hole in the ceiling, straining his ears to glean more information, waiting for any tell-tale smells to waft down from the floor above. Whoever it was had a torch, he could see the beam flickering about; that suggested human and a discrete get away if he could manage it. But kids were usually noisier, and often drunk by the time they'd worked up the courage to explore a Sunnydale graveyard at night. A human minion of a demon with a grudge wasn't out of the question… bloody hell he hoped it wasn't that.

The intruder had reached the top of the ladder, and he finally got a whiff of scent - literally perfume and nothing else. He frowned, puzzled. A foot wearing a slipper of the kind Dru used to wear, silk, embroidered, stepped on to the rungs followed by a bare ankle, then another attached to a shapely leg that got shown off to nice advantage when the skirt uncovering it revealed itself to be wrap over and totally unsuited to climbing ladders. Spike let himself ogle, if he was going to meet his end at the hands of a nicely packaged assassin he may as well enjoy the view while he still could.

"Nice arse." he said, hoping to catch them off guard.

"Thank you." Tara ducked her head into the room.

"Bloody hell, Glinda, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Spike sagged away from the wall and shed his duster on the way to collapse back on the bed.

"I doubt that somehow," she said as she stepped off the ladder and dusted her hands.

"What the hell do you want, bothering me at this time of night. It's not safe for a young lady to be walking around alone," he scowled his disapproval, she was dressed quite provocatively too. Black, an unusual choice for her, some wrap over dress in a clinging material, no bra by the looks of it. Total demon magnet, or human magnet for that matter.

"You been on a date?" he took off his boots to get comfortable again.

She smiled that pouting smirk of hers, and raised one eyebrow, "Why, do you think I look nice?"

He grunted his agreement, sparing another lingering glance at the curves outlined by the dress.

"Do you mind if we have some light in here, I'm at a bit of a disadvantage," she said.

He dug his lighter out of his jeans and lit the candle in the wall sconce just beside the bed.

"Thank you." faltering only slightly when she saw he was half naked, she looked around the cavern. Her fingers reached to smooth the bottom of the silky bed sheets, "I like what you've done with the place."

"I'll tell my designer," he said in his best sarcastic tone, "Are you going to tell me what you want? Or at least why the bloody hell don't you smell right!?"

"Oh, sorry. It's a glamour," she swept her arms as if taking off a jumper, "to make it safer for 'a young lady to be walking around alone'. I couldn't make it work with no smell at all, so I made it faint perfume."

"Hmmf, clever." he surreptitiously sniffed, the familiar scent reassuring him that it was actually Tara, not some pretender.

"Thanks." She leaned casually against the bedpost at the foot of the bed.

He settled himself back where he'd been, sat up against the pillows and headboard, and lit a cigarette, "What. Do. You. Want?" he squinted through the first puff of smoke.

"Ooooh. Good grades, the super to come and fix my leaky faucet, balance in my life and goodwill to all men. And women. And, you know, demons if they're not too… grr." she said with a grin.

Spike found himself grinning back despite himself. Witch. He schooled his face into passivity again, "What do you want here, witch?"

"Sex."

He dropped his cigarette in his lap.

There was a scuffle as he leaped off the bed, batting at any real or imagined flames that might have caught the lap of his jeans, and she retrieved the cigarette from the bed and checked there were no burns in the sheets. She offered the smoke back to him, he shook his head so she stubbed it out on the wall and placed it carefully on a packing crate serving as a table.

"Sex?" he said a little higher pitched than he would have liked.

"Yes. Sex." she said, the very picture of calm and mild amusement.

"But you're with Red. Well- not at the moment, but you love her, yeah? And I love Buffy, and…"

"…And you are with her at the moment…" she took a step towards him, he took a step away.

"Well, yeah! And… and… Lesbian! And… Man! And. What are you asking me for?"

"First, I'm not with Willow at the moment, and it's complicated, I do still love her. Second, I'm not after a relationship, but I'm horny as hell," she closed her eyes and shook herself slightly as if it could get rid of the feeling, then fixed him with a heated look, "Third, I thought you might be open to the suggestion."

"Am I the go-to vampire for itch scratching now?" he said, glowering at her.

"It's not like that. I don't want a serious 'thing', but I just can't do totally casual. If I could I wouldn't be here, I'd be back on campus taking pot luck, it's not as if the place isn't heaving with hormones. I wanted someone I know, and trust, and like, and find attractive. All that narrows it down considerably, mostly to people in relationships already. Out of the choices, I thought you might at least consider it."

He ran that through his mind again, "You trust me?"

"You punched me in the nose," she stepped closer so he had to look down into her face, "you didn't have to do that. It was nice of you."

"But you're gay aren't you?" he was genuinely confused now.

She smiled that pouty, sexy smile and looked at him through lowered eyelashes, "I prefer women, but I'm not 100%, more 90 - 95. Anyway, I'm at college, I'm supposed to experiment."

She put her hand flat on his chest. He took hold of her wrist and lifted her hand away slightly.

"I love Buffy," he said seriously.

"I know. I'm not going to fall in love with you, Spike. And I don't expect or want you to fall in love with me. If it's a matter of sexual fidelity to Buffy, I'll understand. I'd prefer it if it didn't get back to Willow, but…" she shrugged and backed off just the slightest amount, giving him room for a decision.

"Buffy wouldn't like it," he thought, "but Buffy doesn't like a lot of things. Sexual fidelity: even Dru and I never had that, and our love was epic, supposed to be forever. Maybe Glinda and I are due a little comfort. A bit of sexual healing. A bit of fun. Witch smells like a ripe peach, for god's sake. Can't send the lady away frustrated." he smirked unconsciously at the that. Decision made, he supposed, "This could be interesting."

"Ok. But this doesn't get back to Buffy, and it doesn't get back to Willow. Deal?"

"Of course." She reached behind her back and undid the ties of her dress, unwrapping the front to reveal, as he'd suspected, no underwear.

"No hanging about, eh!" .

"Oh, goddess, please no," she laughed.

He gave her young, curvy body a long appreciative look. He smiled his own version of that sexy smirk and skimmed the dress off her shoulders, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck. "On the bed then, pet." he whispered in her ear.

She got under the covers as he took off his jeans and he realised the crypt probably felt cold to her. He crawled under the sheets too and almost laughed at the slightest frown that flitted across her face when she saw he wasn't hard yet. Such impatience: that gave him an idea how to play a little with her.

He lay down beside her on his back, hands behind his head. She sat and looked down at him, apparently a little perplexed at having to 'drive' the proceedings, but then she gave a barely perceptible shrug and slid down beside him, wrapping a leg across both of his, placing her hand flat on his chest and leaning up on her elbow, her head on her hand. She looked straight into his eyes, and blinked slowly.

"Tell me if I go wrong," she said, sounding fairly certain she wouldn't need to be told.

She slid her hand straight down his stomach, under the sheet, then diverted to his side and his hip bone, fingers ghosting, tickling almost, along the crease at the top of his leg, down to his inner thigh, tracing lazy curves and circles, all the while watching for reaction on his face.

She brushed a ticklish spot on his hip and he twitched, took an involuntary sharp breath. She smirked and slid lower in the bed, pulling the covers with her over her shoulders like a cloak, baring his body at the same time. Using both hands she stroked and gently tickled his legs, stomach, sides, chest; veering near but never touching his rapidly hardening cock. Watching his reactions all the while.

Apparently satisfied with the results of her ministrations, she stopped the maddening, but arousing tickling. She knelt above him and leaned forward, not letting their bodies touch except the barest brush of her breasts against his chest. He took his hands from behind his head and slid them up her thighs, she caught his hands and entwined their fingers before pinning his hands back down beside his head.

She kissed the side of his face, along his jaw, down his neck, a gentle nibble of his earlobe, lowering herself slowly as she did so, until she was lying above him, though not resting any real weight on him. She let go of his hands and brushed her fingers over his hair, not risking going through the gelled and tangled curls. She ghosted her lips over his, drawing back when he leaned up to kiss.

"Tease," he tried to say, but the breath caught in his throat, making the word broken.

She leaned above him, close but still out of reach, her hair hanging down one side of her face to just brush his, that infuriating smile back and her eyes twinkling. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. She mirrored him with a parody of his frown. He growled low in his chest, and she giggled. She actually giggled.

"Taunting a vampire is dangerous, young lady," he used the gently mocking form of address so as not to ruin the mood, but wanted to mean it too.

There was no flicker of fear in her face, "So is threatening a witch," she quirked her eyebrow and smirked, then quickly slid away, down his body to kiss his chest.

He groaned and let his head fall back, surrendered to the feel of her warm soft body against his: her breasts heavy against his stomach, her belly against his now hard cock, her smooth inner thighs brushing the outside of his. His hand played through her hair lightly, letting the heavy dead-straight strands slide through his fingers, the candlelight glinting in the highlights.

"She should always be lit with candlelight," he thought, but resisted saying it aloud, it seemed somehow outside the boundaries of their agreement.

She looked up through her lashes at him and touched just the tip of her tongue to his nipple, circling it until it stood small and hard then blowing on it softly. He watched her, blinking languidly, his hand still softly carding her hair. She narrowed her eyes, a smile tweaking the corners slightly, her eyebrow raised making her expression teasing and playfully devilish, then she bit sharply on the nipple she'd just been tending so softly.

"Bloody hell." he arched off the bed. It hadn't been hard enough to even break the skin, but it was startling after all the soft touches lulling him.

She kissed the abused area gently, then peppered a trail of kisses to the other nipple giving it the same treatment.

"Fuck," he couldn't just lie there any longer. He held her face with both his hands, fingers tangled in her hair, and firmly guided her back up to kiss him, refusing to accept the teasing any longer.

She didn't resist this time, her lips hot against his, quickly deepening the kiss. She was lovely: sweet, passionate, swapping the control of the kiss back and fore between them. His hands roamed down her body tracing her sides, sliding around her back. One hand up under her hair to the nape of her neck to caress, the other on the small of her back pressing her closer, flush against his body, bathing in the heat of her. Definitely more aroused than playful now, he could feel her cunt hot and wet against his cock. He arched his hips up, rocking against her slowly.

She pulled back slightly, resting her weight on her elbows, her hands either side of his head. Her eyes heavy lidded, her cheeks flushed, her lips reddened and parted slightly. She searched his face, eyes tracing his hairline, his jaw, lingering on his mouth. Lifting one hand, she followed the same path with her fingers, putting her palm flat against his cheek, brushing his lips with her thumb. He opened his mouth and took the digit between his teeth, biting down carefully, then closing his lips to suck and curl his tongue around the tip. Her eyes never left his mouth as he did this, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip.

His turn to drive.

Tightening his grip on her waist, he rolled them so she was on her back and he was half over her, one leg between hers. She gave a little squeak of surprise, then resettled with a nervous giggle. He ran his hand down her side, following the curves of her waist and hip, down her thigh to her knee, crooking her leg slightly and urging her to let it fall to the side. He slid his hand firmly back up her inner thigh, massaging slightly as he went until he reached where her leg hinged and stopped, not quite touching her the way she wanted yet - he had to pay back a little of that teasing.

She made a little noise of frustration in the back of her throat and pouted, but seemed to read the game. She reached straight for his erection this time, her touch surprisingly sure if a little inexpert. He moved his hand, pressing his thumb on her clit rocking it slowly, his fingers just resting against her.

The next level as it were. They watched each other's faces carefully. She shifted her hold a little, tightening her fist around his cock, brushing over the head with her thumb, jerking him a bit too slowly, a bit to gently.

"I meant what I said about directions." she said, her voice displaying her first hint of uncertainty.

"Harder," he offered, "can't hurt me, pet. Vampires usually like it a bit rough. What about you? Don't want to hurt you. You done this before?"

She quirked her eyebrow at him, "What do you think lesbians get up to in bed exactly?"

"I'm not daft! I asked what you've done."

"Most things."

He wanted to challenge that, what could a 20 year old girl know about 'most things', but he didn't. Instead he placed a cautious fingertip inside her, pressing forward carefully to test. She wasn't lying, she wasn't intact, but adding a second finger, equally carefully, proved she was tight.

"Spike, stop being so damn careful with me, I won't break," she snapped, impatient.

"Damn it,"he thought,"Just trying to treat her right. See how she really likes a little taste of rough shall we." With a snarl he pinned her with his body weight, her hand on his cock trapped between them, his mouth at the junction of her shoulder and neck, teeth blunt against her skin, his hand pumping into her roughly enough that he knew he was skirting dangerously near to an electrical migraine.

Her heart thundered with fear, but she only tightened her grip on his cock and with her free hand grasped a handful of his hair hard, tugging his face away from her neck. She turned her head to him, the position awkward this close. He turned his face to her. Her expression was cool, and the suggestion of warning in her eyes.

Ok, he was willing to admit that had been a mistake. He lifted his weight, and stilled his hand, "I'm sorry, pet. Maybe this is not such a good idea." He started to withdraw his hand, but she clamped her legs together on it, unfisted the hand in his hair and smoothed the back of his neck.

"Do what you were doing before. It felt nice," she lifted her chin in a little inverted nod, "I'm sorry too - be as gentle as you like."

He pulled away and looked at her. So unbelievably knowing; trusting, and open to him. It was as if he kept peeling off layers, or she kept shedding them: her dress being only the first and least important, followed by her teasing and playfulness, then her bravado, even the reason she was here. This wasn't only about sex, this was about someone to hold, caress, show affection to, without the danger of rebuffal or hurt. And suddenly he didn't want to toy with this lovely girl, this beautiful woman, any more. He only wanted to show her she'd made the right choice in him, that he appreciated her need. Hell, he shared it. And maybe she'd chosen him because she knew that too.

"I won't hurt you, Tara. I swear."

"I know. Like I said, I trust you," she coaxed him down, with her hand on his neck, to another gentle kiss, and he thought maybe he could fall in love with her, just a little, just for tonight.

Despite her request to continue, he withdrew his hand, and she let go of him, both instead using their hands to caress each other, as they relaxed again.

He kissed her breasts, discovered how she liked them touched, she found the ticklish spot on his side below his ribs. He nibbled her neck until she squirmed and laughed, she kissed the soft skin just below his ear. Murmurs and gasps, soft laugher and moans. They explored each other slowly and intimately, becoming more assured and eager until they were both panting for air.

Braced on his hands he positioned himself over her, "You ready, pet."

She clutched at his arms, smiling and flushed and near quivering, "Yes. Definitely!"

He pushed into her and stilled immediately, "God, love, your so hot, so tight." He dropped his head, struggling for control, he'd been on the edge for so long himself.

She made a needy little noise, "Please, move. Oh, god, please."

"I move, and this'll all be over, pet." he laughed more a release of tension than humour, then groaned as she clenched her muscles around him, "Ah! Don't!"

"You don't need to last, so close, please, just…" she arched her hips and ground against him.

"Fuck," he gave up arguing and moved with her, trying to take it slow.

She wrapped her legs around him and pulled on his shoulders until he lent down closer, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. She tightened her arms around him, hands clutching at his back, tightened her legs, speeding his movements, her voice all inarticulate cries. He buried his eyes in her neck, breath gasping against her breast.

Then she was shuddering beneath him, fluttering around him, her voice caught in her throat in a gasp as she came. And he was gone too, his last shred of control spent on clenching his teeth together rather than sinking them into her sweet-salt skin.

They lay side by side, collapsed and panting. She gave a breathless giggle.

"Wow, you're really good at that."

"I'll take that as high praise from a 90% lesbian such as yourself," he leaned up on one elbow and grinned at her.

She smiled up at him, and slowly got her breathing level. She cleared her throat, "I- um- guess I better be getting back to the dorm. It's late, well, early by now," suddenly all the uncertainty came flooding in and she looked away shyly.

He frowned, "Don't have to go. I'd only have to get up and walk you home, gentleman that I am. Room enough for two in this bed right here."

"You don't mind me staying?" she looked back hopefully.

"Course not, pet. Come here."

He coaxed her to turn and lie back against him, pulling the covers up around them. He put his arm around her waist and laced their fingers. She snuggled further down under the covers and tighter against his body, sighing as she relaxed again.

They lay spooned for a few minutes silent and comfortable.

"I sometimes think this i-is what I miss m-most," she said quietly.

He tightened his arm around her in comfort, and kissed the back of her hair, "Me too, pet. Me too."

He lay quiet and still as her breathing slowed into sleep, then let the sound of her steady heartbeat lull him after her.

It was day when he woke. The candle had long since burnt out, and the faint sunlight from the small crypt windows above was enough for him to tell it was late morning. His bed was cold and empty, and he sighed. Another night with no evidence that he'd had any company except a faint scent; at least the bed linen was rumpled this time. He rolled, hanging off the edge of the bed to snag his lighter and cigarettes from his jeans on the floor. Sitting up to light the smoke, he saw the note on the pillow next to his.

Spike,
I had to get to class. I'm sorry I didn't wake you, but you really do sleep like the dead! Anyway you looked too content to disturb. Thank you for last night, it was wonderful. I've left you a gift upstairs. Not a thank you as such, I meant to give it to you anyway. I'll see you soon.
With love,
Tara

Curious, he pulled on his jeans and climbed up to the crypt proper. He couldn't see anything new. There was no extra blood in the fridge. He stood in the middle of the room confused, checked the note again. She did say a gift. Maybe she was teasing, or forgot as she was leaving. A little disappointed, he walked to the door to close it, she hadn't known the knack for propping it closed when it was broken. He felt a familiar tingle as he touched the handle. Magic. Then he saw the second note pinned to the doorframe.

It's a sort of backwards uninviting spell. Humans can't come into your home unless you invite them, not even me once I've left.
Use it wisely.
Tara

He stared in disbelief at the notes, then at the doorway, then threw his head back and laughed aloud.

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The End

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