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Authors Chapter Notes:
Hey guys, I wrote most of this a fair while ago and found it yesterday. I decided to beef it up a bit to be able to post. I've been busy working away at uni and will be again next week.
Thank you for my original readers sticking with me and the new readers and friends reading for the first time. I made a list of all the fanfic I have to finish and it's a long one but the good news is that it's mostly Spuffy. Will get around to posting everything here one day :) Keep it dandy, ladies and gents.


Marriage 101

Buffy looked out of the ceiling. How did the pink handprints get there? She swore she asked him to paint over all the ones he could find. Did he not have the capacity to look up?

“Oh, shit.” Now he was moaning. Great. Two minute sex ending thirty seconds early.

“Oooooohhhhh,” Buffy fake moaned. He pumped into her a few more times.

He hadn’t even paid her any attention the last few weeks. Hadn’t asked her what she was doing or what the kids were up to or why he had to paint over pink handprints. Bastard.

“Buff—,” He came, semen flooding her stupid vagina that wouldn’t stop getting impregnated as she did those Kibble exercises to make him think she was coming. She hoped. Well, she didn’t really care. Faking it was sort of the norm now.

“God, that was—,” Yep, that was her husband, all about the release. He’d been working long hours and coming home and inside her then falling asleep like a lump of lazy dog after sprinting after a moving car.

Stupid dog couldn’t look inside the car to see her. God, even his car got more attention than she did.

“Buffy?” He had rolled off her and onto his side of the bed. He reached over to the bedside table and looked at his watch. He took a gulp of water before settling back down on the bed and finally turned to actually look at her.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here. The case took a lot out of me.”

Grr. He’d be even less than not here. Must be supportive wife person.

“Yeah, I know. You’re fighting the good fight, bringing down the pollutionists. I’m fighting the fight against Colleen and her getting into the paints.”

“So that’s what happened.”

“Of course. How else would we have child sized handprints all across our walls?”

This was the longest conversation Buffy had had with him in six weeks.

She missed him. But she wouldn’t tell him.

“Maybe you’ve got another little one percolating away in your tummy, ready to give Colleen a run for her money and I missed it during that stupid trial.”

“Yeah, because it’s not like I have trouble with ‘percolate’ process.” He ignored Buffy’s sarcasm. And then leant over to get another sip of water before pulling the blanket a little too far to the left.

He wasn’t asleep.
She neither.

They were silent for too long. She didn’t like it. She couldn’t tell whether or not he was asleep.

“Buffy?”

“Hmmm?” She wasn’t completely interested in what he had to say because he’d obviously been pondering in the uncomfortable silence, and nothing good ever came from uncomfortable silences.

“Why have you been faking it?”

Damn it. He caught her. Best way to response? With lots of ammunition.

“Why have you been coming in twelve seconds?” Ammunition that was still stewing between Buffy’s thighs.

“Who … how… what?” He spluttered. It used to be cute. But that was before three kids and fourteen years of marriage. And six weeks of ignorance.

She rolled over, determined not to get into this argument.

“Are you leaving me?”

His words were so softly spoken that they broke her heart.

“Spike—,”

He sat up, reaching for the pj pants he’d left at the end of the bed, attempting to pull them on through hazy, tear stained eyes. She just knew they would be tear stained.

“Don’t Spike me. If you’re going to ruin my identity and smash my heart into pieces, call me by my real name.”

Buffy sat up against the headboard and watched as he sulked in the middle of their bedroom.

“Oh, you stupid... I’m mad at you, you jackass. Doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you.”

“But the crappy sex…” He was almost kneeling in a pose of mournful beggary.

“Was me getting back at you for what you said to Giles about our sex life!”

Damnit. He lost the puppy dog eyes. Now he was going to be all indignant and righteous and he had no right to be. They were her raison d'être.

“But it was just Giles!”

“I don’t talk to my mother about the kinky sex we have!”

“Just cause Dad and I are close—,”

“Yeah, that’s the word for it.” Buffy muttered under her breath. But it didn’t help. She was tackled by a naked husband, eager for retribution.

“That’s not all you’re mad at, is it?” He loomed over her, his dick playing the ‘I think I’m younger than I really am’ game and attempting to get up again. “You’re mad I’ve been ignoring you. Looking at work instead of my angry, unresponsive wife.”

“You used to never be able to take your eyes off me.” She said quietly, whispering into his shoulder. She hated that she was this weak when it came to him. “And you haven’t seen Lucy and Tommy for weeks.”

He grinned devilishly, parted her thighs and licked his way horizontally across her chest.

“How do you think the handprints got on the ceiling?”

That shit! He was the one who opened the paint and got the kids covered in it! Oh, he was in for it now.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Mr.”

“You going to actually come now, Mrs?”

She flipped him over arrogantly.

“You were spending time with the children, and not me.”

The smirk. God, it always got to her. No matter how hard she tried to pretend she was asexual. She tried and tried to be a worm but when he wore that smirk and was worming his way into her...

“Course. Love ‘em.”

“You rat bastard!”

The soft lips of her sex sucked him in again, though this time the moans were real. She leaned down and took an earlobe into her teeth.

When she bit down hard enough for him to yelp she whispered, “I’m going to show you how this is really done, Pratt. You’re not man enough to make me come.”

He shuddered, once. Full bodied. Then flipped her back to their original position; this time her delicious little derriere lifting off their Egyptian cotton sheets as he plunged deeper inside. The fire raced up and down her arteries and settled in the cells that danced in her groin.

Buffy knew this would end in tears. At the labour ward. Again.

The End.




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