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Spike secures the black leather cuffs around your wrists, then runs a chain between them. He guides your arms straight up above your head and loops the chain over the hook protruding from the ceiling of the bedroom you share. The chain is short enough that you have to stand on your tip toes to avoid putting too much strain on your stretched arms. You sway in an effort to keep your footing, and Spike smirks wickedly at you.
He leans in and inhales at your neck, then growls softly. You feel him breathing cool air against your skin, but his lips don’t make contact with your flesh. He walks behind your body, out of your field of vision. For a moment nothing happens, and then you hear soft movement followed by the flick of his lighter. There is a pause, and then a heavy exhale, and you smell his cigarette. In your peripheral vision you see curls of smoke fade into nothingness. You wait for Spike to touch you, but instead he begins to circle you slowly. He steps around you again and again, smoking his cigarette and eyeing your bare body, his long leather coat rustling behind his legs as he walks.
Spike stops the circle when his cigarette is nearly done. He stands before you and takes his final drag, then puts the cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table. He seems to move more slowly than is necessary as he does it, making you wait even longer for his physical contact. Your eagerness to be touched overwhelms you, and you make a needy sound. He grins and walks behind your body once again, but only stands there.
“Please,” you beg at last, unable to think about anything but your desperate desire for his hands on you, his lips, his cock, his fangs…
Suddenly you feel Spike grab you from behind; one arm clamps around your waist and the other stretches between your breasts as he holds you flush to his body. You can feel his hardness pressing through his pants into the flesh of your ass cheek. You press your ass back against him and rock your hips, rubbing to his clothed erection. Spike slides one hand down to your pussy and his fingers find your clit, slick with the juices of your arousal. He rubs quick circles over your sensitive nub as he reaches his other hand between your bodies. You hear his zipper, and your heart beats with the astounding beauty of your anticipation.
With a single, smooth push of his hips Spike enters you fully, and you let go a lyrical sound of relief. He swears and begins to fuck you as he continues to pleasure your clit. His other arm wraps again around your chest and his skilled hand massages your breasts in turn. His fingers tease and pinch your nipples. He rests his head on your shoulder, mouth near to the skin of your neck but not touching it, and makes little growls.
“Bite me, please,” you beg in time, for his cool breath and the sounds of his lustful hunger are heightening your arousal to the point that you fear you will orgasm without his fangs inside you.
He obliges at once, growling ferociously and then descending upon your neck and piercing the flesh. You cry out from the pain mixed with the pleasures that his hands and cock continue to bring you. After a moment the pain of his bite fades into something keenly precious, something decadent and fulfilling. You are his sustenance. You are needed. You are prized.
Spike drinks your blood in deep, greedy swallows at first, then slows down with a sound of struggle. You know that he is calculating exactly how much blood he can safely take, and you trust him to control himself. You know you are safe with him. You know he will always protect you. You feel utterly his, and you begin to moan his name. He makes a muffled sound of approval against your flesh and slams harder and faster into your pussy, moves his fingers more and more rapidly on your clit, and holds your back so tightly to his front that you are nearly one form. Your blood is inside him and his cock is inside you; you cannot imagine the two of you being any more like a single being than you are in this moment.
But then your orgasms come at the same time, and you find yourself yet closer to him, find yourself even further merged with your beloved as he throbs and releases inside you, as he takes his final, desperate gulp of your blood, and as you come against his fingers so hard you lose your footing after all.
Spike doesn’t need to catch you because his arms are already around you. He holds you up and licks the blood from your wounds. He pulls his softening cock gently out of your pussy and kisses your injured neck. He steadies you, strokes a hand down your back and steps away, then returns with a bandage for your opened skin. He carefully affixes it, then comes around to your front, cradles your face and kisses your lips with profound tenderness. Your tongues caress one another dreamily. Your lips fold around each other sweetly. You exchange murmured words of love.
Spike unhooks your wrists from the ceiling and removes the cuffs. He kisses a thick ring around each of your wrists, coating the space made pink by the bondage with gentle affection. He smiles with adoration, then picks you up in his arms. He carries you to the bed and lays you down, then snuggles in beside you. He pulls your head gently onto his chest and wraps his arms around you. His torso is covered by his black tee-shirt; you long for his skin so you push up his shirt and press a kiss to his bare chest. He makes a soft sound of contentment and strokes your hair and skin as you rest in one another’s embrace.
You nap for a time, then awaken to him softly speaking your name.
“Picked up dinner for you, pet,” he tells you, “better eat and replenish your strength.”
You smile up at him with fondness and gratitude. He always makes sure you eat after he drinks your blood. You rise and pull on your robe and follow him to the kitchen where you find take-out from your favorite restaurant, and a pitcher of juice, set out on the table next to a tiny crystal vase holding a little pink rose.