TITLE: No Rest For The Wicked


EMAIL: lex@bitchenvy.com


SYNOPSIS: This is a little crossover fantasy that emerged from the depths of my mind. I saw "Cruel Intentions" when it first came out, and I started thinking, "What if Spike, in his travels, ran into Kathryn Merteuil?"

DISCLAIMER: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy/The WB/FOX. Cruel Intentions belong to a bunch of people who I would name if I knew them, but alas, I don't. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made off of this.

NOTES: I liked CI, and SMG was wonderful as Kathryn. Here's to all of us castrating bitches! <WEG>




A overhead sign flashed neon in the darkness.

On a filthy street corner in Manhattan, Spike looked up at the sign above him, noting that one letter was burnt out, causing it to read something vaguely obscene. No matter, he wasn't there for the ambience. He was there for a drink, a quick feed, and perhaps a quick fuck.

He pushed his way into the smoky interior of the establishment. There were patrons lounging at the wooden bar, bellowing orders at an obviously disgruntled bartender. The style of dress was shabby chic, indicating that these people, at one time, had known the finer things in life. But now, now they were stuck in this hole. He grinned. This could be fun.

His predator's eyes scanned the interior, looking for an easy mark. He really wasn't in the mood for any kind of challenge. There were a few couples dancing on a tiny dance floor, but he didn't see anything that interested him. At least, not until his eyes focused on the woman sitting in one of the back booths. If he had needed a breath, he would not have been able to take one.

It was the Slayer.

But the Slayer was back in California, shacking up with her big pouf. Besides, this woman was brunette, the rich dark strands floating over pale naked shoulders. She had on a black halter dress, and she was idly playing with the rim of her drink. Her nails were bloodred, matching her full lips.

Finally, something interesting.

He strode over to the booth, and slid in across from her. She was clearly surprised, her left eyebrow arching delicately.

"Can I help you?" she asked, and her voice alone was enough to make him hard.

"I'm sure you can, pet."

Her eyes flickered up and down what she could see of him. Her tongue crept out to lick her lips. "Isn't that look you're sporting a little old?"

"Yeah, well, I'm a little old, so it all works out in the end." He patted his chest, feeling for his pack of cigarettes. Taking one out, he lit it and offered it to her.

"Marlboros? How...gauche."

He shrugged and put the lit cigarette to his lips. "I take it you like something stronger?"

"You could say that."

He watched her silently. From the way her right nostril was reddened, unless he missed his guess, her poison came in a fine white powder.

"You know pet, you look just like someone I used to know."

Her laughter rang out. "You have got to be kidding me, that's the oldest line in the book."

He shook his head. "Actually, the oldest line in the book is 'Nice shoes, wanna fuck?'."

Her lips curved in a wicked smile. "Are you going to use that one too?"

"Do I need to?" Spike looked at her. Her lips were red, full, moist, and she smelled unbelievably good. He would bet that she was already dripping wet, her thighs slick with her need. As an added bonus, she was a dead ringer for the Slayer. But he wouldn't let himself think about that. He refused to go there, even in the depths of his mind.

In answer, she ran her tongue over her upper lip. "No."

Spike stood, and extended his hand. "Before I fuck you to death, luv, what's your name?"

She took his hand and stood up, pressing her full breasts, which were nearly overflowing from her bustier, into his hard chest. "Kathryn. Kathryn Merteuil."

At her last name, he arched his own eyebrow. "Voulais vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"

She bared her teeth in a quick laugh. "Aren't you the witty one tonight."

Tucking her arm into the crook of his, Spike led Kathryn out of the bar. The men that had leered at her on the way in carefully averted their eyes as they caught sight of Spike. When they hit the street, he said, "Where to?"

"There's a hotel around the corner."

"Not taking me home?"

"No." She didn't offer any explanation, and he didn't press her for one. A hotel would be much easier when he had to get rid of the body.


He shoved her into the room, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees. "What the fuck is your problem?" she snarled as she stood.

"You'll be on your knees soon enough. I wanted to save time."

She advanced on him, and with a sharp shove on his chest, he fell backwards onto the bed. "You're an ass." She grabbed at his zipper, pulling it down and away from his already rampant flesh.

And then those ripe, red lips were encircling his cock.

Spike let out a hoarse groan as the pleasure slammed through him. "Fuck," he muttered, his hands tangling in her dark hair. She was so good at this, her practiced mouth enveloping him all the way down to his base. He could feel himself sliding past the back of her throat, and his mind shut down as she started to suck.

Her head bobbed, tongue slicking a path up and down his cock, leaving little trails of fire in her wake. He looked down, and saw her looking up at him with hot eyes. Her lipstick had smeared, and somehow, that made her look even sexier. Then her eyes crinkled wickedly, and she chuckled, the sound rumbling up from her throat. He nearly screamed at the added sensation, and without hesitation, gripped her head more firmly and slammed into her willing mouth.

Kathryn braced herself on the bed as Spike forced his cock full length into her mouth, accepting his frantic thrusts. She tightened her lips as much as she could, and let her tongue drag up and down the underside of his shaft. That was too much for him, and with a vicious snarl, he came, cool liquid filling her mouth. She swallowed quickly, pulling back, allowing his cock to slip out as he collapsed limply on the bed.

Her red-tipped fingers crept up to wipe the remainder of his seed off of her lips. Idly, she sucked those fingers as she waited for him to come around.

"Bloody hell, pet," his voice rumbled up from the bed.

"You're still an ass."

He reached out a long arm and snagged her, drawing her down to his chest. She had just given him the most mind-blowing orgasm he'd had in ages, and he hadn't even kissed her yet. He needed to make her scream. It was a matter of honor now.

His lips claimed hers, and she subsided with a low moan, arching into his embrace. Spike's hands ran down her back, gripping her ass, pulling her tightly against his hardening cock. "You have on far too many clothes, luv."

Her hand reached down to the hem of her tiny dress, pulling the silky fabric up and away from her thighs. He was surprised to find her completely bare beneath, even the tiniest wisps of hair removed. Her naked mound drew him, and he trailed his fingers through that lush moisture.

Kathryn's breath caught in her throat, and she widened her thighs, allowing him all the room he needed. He manipulated her with quick, rough movements of his hand, and she came violently, clenching his intruding fingers.

She was incredibly responsive, like any decadently expensive toy, and he grinned wickedly as she began to stir on his chest, biting his nipples with her blunt white teeth.

It was going to be one hell of a night.


Kathryn swam through the hazy layers of darkness. Her head hurt and she needed a hit desperately. Her fingers fumbled for her cross, and she grabbed it, twisting off the cap. Carelessly, she shoved the coke up her nose and snorted delicately. The drug took a few seconds before it asserted itself into her system, then she recapped the cross and swiped at her nose.

"Nasty habit you have there, pet."

Her eyes focused on the man sitting at the chair at the foot of the bed. The memories of the night before flooded her mind.

"Yeah, well, you're a bloodsucker, I wouldn't talk." Gingerly, she felt her neck. The bite mark was tender to the touch.

This early morning Kathryn was much less couth than the woman he had met last evening. He was enjoying her immensely.

She glanced at the clock. "Shouldn't you be sleeping or something?"

"I was having too much fun watching you fuck your own hand in your sleep."

Her eyes flashed angrily.

"You really are a horny little bitch."

Tauntingly, she flung the sheet off of her. Her beautiful body lay spread out for his delectation. "And you're a sick bastard."

"We're perfect together, luv." He stood and then crawled onto the bed and up her legs, until he hovered at the mouth of her sex.

She arched a brow in challenge.

Gripping her hips in his broad hands, he lifted her to his mouth. Her inner lips were red and swollen from the fucking she had earlier received. He slid a gentle tongue up her slit. He could taste her distinctive flavor, as well as his own. She murmured softly, arching up to his mouth.

"Now, now, pet, we have plenty of time."

She rolled her eyes. "Just fuck me already."

Spike smiled as he let his tongue slide inside her. She was so hot she nearly scalded him. "Hot, wet, horny bitch."

"Just the way you like it."

He answered her by thrusting his tongue into her, rubbing the swollen walls. She threw her arms over her head, gripping the headboard.

"I want you to scream for me," he murmured into her wet flesh.

"Make me."


"Eat me." It was both a retort and an order.

Applying himself, he licked around her opening, sucking and biting gently, carefully avoiding the one spot she wanted him to touch. His right hand slid up to help him, three fingers pushing roughly into her cunt.

She moaned then, deep in the back of her throat. Her head began to toss back and forth on the pillow, her dark hair tangling around her. "Oh, shit," she hissed as her hands left the headboard, grasping his head, pushing him further into her groin.

Spike was having a grand old time, the sounds of her whimpers arousing him beyond belief. He found himself oddly grateful that she wasn't Buffy, because from the way her thighs were clamped around his head, he would be dead by now if she had a Slayer's strength.

"My clit," she howled, "Touch my clit!" She squirmed desperately, pushing his head, trying to direct him towards the scrap of flesh that ached for him.

He knew exactly what she needed, so perversely, he was unwilling to give it to her. Instead, he rotated the three fingers that were thrusting inside her until they were touching the top of her core. Fingertips searching, he quickly located the raised spot on the top wall and pressed strongly. Kathryn let out an agonized wail. He ignored her and rubbed hard.

"Oh, you bastard--oh--oh--oH--OHHHHHHHH," she screamed as she flew apart under his probing, her cunt clasping hungrily at his hand.

Ruthlessly, Spike smiled, loving the way she undulated helplessly under his touch. Without letting her come down from her high, he slid up her body, kneed apart her thighs, canted up her hips, and slammed into her. His eyes nearly crossed at the tight, wet cave he found himself in. She crossed her legs behind his back, drawing him closer as she squeezed him internally.

Velvet covered muscled trapped his cock, held him in a firm embrace.

He whimpered. "What the hell...?"

She licked his lips. "Kegel exercises. Nice, aren't they?"

With a dazed look into her tauntingly insolent face, Spike realized that he had gotten way more than he had bargained for when he picked up this particular woman.

After a couple of centuries, he had finally bitten off more than he could chew.