Title: "Dance on the Wire"
Author: Mala
Spoilers: Up to "Listening to Fear"
Rating/Classification: 'R' , B/S-ish, songfic, humor, angst, sexual situations.
Disclaimer: Grrr aargh. Lyrics from the Dixie Chicks' "If I Fall You're Going Down With Me" off their album "Fly."
Summary: Spike knows the Slayer wants to dance...so will they dance together when she catches him sneaking around her house?



Was it the pull of the moon now, Baby
that led you to my door?
You say the night's got
you acting crazy.
I think it's somethin' more.

"Spike! WHAT are you doing here?"

He flattened himself against the wall, but it was too late. Her hand thrust into the depths of the closet and yanked him forward. He stumbled out into the bedroom to face 5'3 inches and 100 pounds of furious, blond, vampire slayer.

"Erhm...vacationing?" he offered, taking in the tiny tank top and the silk pajama pants that he'd watched her change into as he'd held a swinging legion of shirts away from his eyes.

"Not. Funny."

From the side, he'd gotten flashes of creamy breasts and her pert little rear...images that would greatly aid him in future fantasies. But now, dressed and in front of him brandishing a stake, she was even more lovely. She radiated. Her skin glowed gold in the moonlight that was streaming in from her window. Her eyes were more green than brown tonight, free of much of the worry that had weighted her down of late...filled, instead, with indignant maidenly anger.

"It's the moon," he offered. "It's doin' spotty things to my head. I was takin' a walk and the next thing I knew...here I was."

"In my closet. Watching me change. Riiiight." The set of her jaw didn't change.

"I was going to check on Joyce," he huffed, struck by the brilliant simplicity of the defense.

"In my closet?" she repeated, arching a golden-brown brow.

"Detour?" he attempted, giving her his best boyish grin.

She wasn't having any of it. "You have five seconds to get out before I stake your pervy little ass to the wall."

I never felt the earth move, Honey,
until you shook my tree.
Nobody runs from
the law now, Baby.
of love and gravity.
It pulls you so strong.
Baby, you gotta hold on

Spike swallowed, feeling his cock jump like it did every time she threatened him. The Slayer couldn't flirt with him proper, so she did it with danger. With promises she never managed to keep. "Hello!" he snorted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his duster and bouncing up and down on his toes. "I was in here for twenty minutes, Slayer. Plenty long enough for you to sense me and toss me out. But you didn't," he pointed out. "You stripped down to your skivvies, popped in that girly little c.d. and did me a little dance number as you got into your nightthingies."

"I was NOT dancing." Her stake wavered and her cheeks flushed red.

"Then you were wiggling to rhythm. Same thing." The set of his jaw didn't change.

"I didn't know you were there! I was distracted about Mom!" she defended quickly, grabbing onto the excuse and holding it tight.

"For twenty minutes?" he repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Cor' , Pet...you must be losin' your edge."

"I am not losing my edge...and I was not stripping for you," she attempted again, trying her best to look all angry and put-upon.

He wasn't having any of it.

In one step, he was directly in front of her. So close that he could tilt his head down and stare straight at her lush cleavage. "You have five seconds to stop lying to me and yourself before my 'pervy little ass' stakes you to the wall," he hissed, hotly.

If I fall you're goin down with me.
You're goin down with me,
Baby, if I fall.
You can't take back
every little chill you give me.
You're goin' down with me, Baby,
heart and all.

Her eyes widened. The stake clattered to the carpet as her muscles loosened from the sheer shock. He listened to her sharp intake of breath, to her pulse spiking up three beats. "Spike! What the...?"

"Uh uh. No questions this time, Pet." He shook his head just slightly, wondering if the moon truly was feeding his ridiculous bravado. The moon or maybe her Dixie Chicks c.d. "You know exactly what I'm doing."

And this time, as he leaned down to capture her mouth, he grasped her shoulders so she couldn't pull away. He held her there as he plummeted straight into oblivion, into madness, into the luscious reality of her lips. "Come with me, Slayer," he pleaded as he nipped her lower lip. "Come on."

Her bones seemed to melt and reform under his hands. Until she was pliant, soft, tentatively kissing him back. Feather light. And it was like touching a match to a stick of dynamite. A small cry ripped from her throat and then she was rising up on her toes...sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him down to duel with her hot, seeking, tongue.

"Oh, God," she whispered, voice thick with passion and self-loathing. "Oh, God...I want you."

We're hangin right on
the edge now, Baby.
The wind is gettin' stronger
We're hangin on
by a thread now, Honey.
We can't hold on much longer.
It's a long way down
but, it's too late.

She was echoing his dreams. The elusive nighttime ramblings where they belonged together. She wanted him.

He was helpless to keep back the next part of the fantasy...the natural response...but he managed to change one important word. One word that could damn him for all time...more than her fiery touch was damning him right now. "I need you," he murmured into her mouth. "Oh, God, I need you so much."

He buried one hand deep in her hair, cupping the nape of her neck, as he tugged her hips to him with the other. He moved her back against the closet door, kicking it shut with the side of his foot before he pinned her there and began to drink her kisses again. The paper thin straps of her pink tank top slid down her shoulders and he followed their path with his tongue, licking a damp trail to the curve of each of her breasts.

"We have to stop..." she gasped out, raggedly, arching up. "We...have...to..."

"I can't, Baby." He kissed her throat. He rose up and kissed her lips again. "I can't."

If I fall you're goin down with me.
You're goin down with me,
Baby, if I fall.
You can't take back
every little chill you give me.
you're goin' down with me, Baby,
heart and all.

Buffy moaned in defeat under the onslaught of his hands and lips and tongue. The twangy country song in the background was like a distant buzz. He was vaguely aware that the woman sounded like whiskey punch and the Slayer combined, raw and sweet and like a straight shot of sex.

He crawled down her body, slowly sinking to his knees before her. Her fingers threaded through his hair as he inched her tank top up and kissed her belly. She held her breath as he hooked his fingers into the waistbands of her pajamas and her panties and slowly slid them down to her ankles. He smoothed his palms back up her long, slender legs, absorbing her shivers.

"Spike...please..." And from her voice, it was clear she didn't know if she was pleading for him to cease or to go on.

He lowered his head, circled her belly button with his tongue, laving the skin until it was tender and damp...a prelude for what was to come. The scent of her arousal beckoned and he nuzzled at the shadowed cleft of her femininity. "Do you still want to stop?" he murmured.

Her head thrashed restlessly from side to side. "Yes...no...I don't know."

Ooh, Baby, I couldn't get
any higher.
This time I'm willin'
to dance on the wire.
If I fall...
If I fall...

"Come on, Slayer. There's more than one way to dance."

"Are you going to teach me?" she demanded, breath coming in gasps, eyes bright with need. She slid down the door, inch by inch, meeting him on the ground. "Do you think you can?"

Air he didn't need expelled from his lungs. "Yeah...yeah, I do."

And Spike set about showing her. It had been too long since he'd kissed her mouth and he corrected the oversight immediately, swooping down to attack her soft, swollen lips again. His cool palms returned to the heated frontier beneath her tank top and she shivered, kissing him back with matched ferocity. He felt her hiss as he waltzed his fingertips across her flesh, slowly brushing the undersides of her breasts. They were knee to knee now, chest to chest. So close he could feel her heart pounding against his skin. And he wanted to be closer. Under her skin. Inside it. Right down to the very core of her being. Next to her soul.

She pushed him once with her small hand, her Slayer strength, urging him down to the carpet and he pulled her with him. Her hair spilled down like a curtain over his face and he brushed the awry strands back, devouring her mouth with a hard, consuming kiss. She moaned, kissing him back and tugging at his t-shirt, impatiently urging it from the waistband of his jeans. Her hands worked at the buttons and the zipper, and he raised his hips so she could pull the confining denim from between their bodies. From there it was easy...so easy, to drive up into the heat that was so perilously close, so welcoming. Her thighs clamped down on either side of him as she danced. Their bodies slammed together like ravers in a mosh pit. Violent. Slick. Caught up in the raging whirl of the moment, the rhythm. This was yet another private number for him...only for him. And, this time, there could be no excuses, no denials. Not when he was looking up into her passion-glazed eyes...not when he was tasting the fullness of her lips and the burning warmth of her womb over and over. Not when she was sinking against him, body tightening as she exploded into climax. His own release followed soon after. He was lost. Staked. Headfirst into heaven and dead twice over. It was too perfect...too real...too quick.

He cradled her against his chest and they stumbled together to her bed, kicking off half-shed clothes, collapsing into the soft sheets in a sweaty tangle of limbs and mouths. His last thought before he was claimed by blissfully satiated sleep was her name. The name of his truest dance partner...the name he could finally say with love.

"Buffy..."

If I fall you're goin down with me.
You're goin down with me,
Baby, if I fall.
You can't take back
every little chill you give me.
You're goin' down with me, Baby,
heart and all.

"Spike..." she whispered, lost in sleep. A throaty moan. A sign of passion...of a dream too good to wake up from. Perhaps the same dream he'd had himself.

His eyes flashed open. And for one full minute he just lay there, caught up in horror. In anxiety. In realization.

And then Riley Finn rolled over and stared at the woman he loved, looking so tiny and so content curled up in the stiff chair.

The hospital waiting room was silent. So silent he could hear those hushed whispers return from his subconscious...the sound of the violin and the guitar from the c.d. he'd given her just last month, the sounds of those moans and sighs. The bites hidden under his shirt sleeves throbbed with painful remembrance and so did the pulsing heat at his groin.

Not for the first time this year, he truly wished he was someone else.

And he wished he knew how to dance on the wire.

If I fall...
If I fall...

--The End--


December 2000.


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