Spuffy Twitter
Top 10
Contact Us



05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!


Author's Corner

[Reviews - 7]

Microsoft Word Chapter or Story

Printer Chapter or Story

ePub eBook Chapter or Story

- Text Size +
1719 - Reads

Authors Chapter Notes:
BtVS is not mine.

“New meat, eh?” a bleach blonde said with a smirk, an unlit cigarette perched between his lips.

Angel sighed. “Spike, will you please stop trying to scare away your new coworkers?”

Buffy shifted uncomfortably, instantly feeling revolted by the pale man in front of her. “I’m not any kind of meat,” she said irritably.

He snorted. “Aren’t we all? Besides, what reason did you come here for but to be objectified, eh?”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Well you can’t with my cock in your mouth, can you?” He sneered.

Buffy whirled around to face Angel, an incredulous look on her face. “Am I working with him? Please tell me I’m not working with him.”

The dark haired man sighed. “Sorry, Buff.”

She darted into the designated dressing room, tears clouding her vision.

Angel shot Spike an annoyed look. “Do you always have to do that?”

He shrugged, lighting his cigarette. “Girls gotta know what they’re in here for. Besides, I don’t abuse them in front of the camera... much.” He shrugged again. “That’s all that matters, innit?”

“Do you remember the last girl?” he asked, exasperated. “She wasn’t even wet enough to take your dick in, she was so repulsed by you. So quit the shit or you’re out.”

He walked away from him, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Angel crossed his arms to his chest. “And apologize to Buffy right now!”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, dad.”

Inside the dressing room, Buffy sniffled, wiping away her tears and thinking how ironical it was to have a designated dressing room at a pornography shoot.

This hadn’t been her first choice. In fact, it had been the last one. After a year of fighting the fryer and the oil it splattered at her at The Doublemeat Palace, she just couldn’t take it anymore. And it had hardly paid any of her bills. Since her mom died, everything that had to do with finances just became too overwhelming--so she’d gone to an adult industry agency. When she'd met up with Angel, he didn’t force her to do any sexual acts like a lot of unfortunate girls ended up doing during their first interview, so she thought that it’d be smooth sailing. Because she did like sex, and she wasn’t half bad at acting, and she figured viewers weren’t going to criticize her for the latter anyway. The agency was also being supported by a foundation that allowed her to get free checkups every month, and that was sound enough for her.

Until this Spike guy showed up.

Her eyes teared again. God, it was humiliating enough going to the interview. Now she had to deal with this guy for the rest of her career here?

She was startled by a knock on the door. “Yes?”

Spike poked his head in. “Angel said I have to apologize to you,” he said, observing his fingernails intently. “Sorry.”

And then he was gone.

Buffy huffed.

She put on the wardrobe that was given to her, which...wasn’t all that much. A g-string, booty shorts, a tank top that was hardly a top, and six inch heels that showed her french tipped toes. She put on light makeup and some lip gloss before meeting Angel in the room they’d be shooting at.

Except only Spike was there.

“Angel had to leave,” he muttered.

“What?” she squawked.

“I’ve got some q-tips if you need to clean out your ears. His wife’s in labor,” he deadpanned.

“So what are we going to do?” she demanded, sounding fearful.

He shrugged. “I’ve done gonzo films before. He said to do whatever feels right. I’m pretty experienced with this stuff anyway.”

She bit her lip. “Okay,” she whispered.

He rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry daddy’s not here to hold your hand through this. But I won’t hurt you. Alright?”

She nodded, still worrying her lip between her teeth.

He smirked. “Unless, you know, you want me to...” Christ, she was blushing at a bloody porno shoot. And for reasons unknown to him, he found it kind of adorable. “So since this is your debut, I want you to introduce yourself before we get busy.” He picked up the camera. “Ready to roll?”

She nodded. “O-Okay.”

He nodded toward the couch against the far wall. “Sit.” He turned on the camcorder, smirking at her as he pressed record. “Hello there, cutie.”

Buffy bit her lip. “Hi,” she said shyly.

“An' what's your name, luv?” he purred. He grinned when she blushed, lowering her eyes. “M'a bad, rude man, aren't I? The name's Spike. M'sure we'll be getting real acquainted today.”

“I'm Buffy,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he murmured, his voice low as he took it and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her palm.

She found herself panting, licking her lips.

“You're a pretty li'l thing, aren't you?” Spike hummed, using his loose grip on her hand to tug her closer. He placed the camera on top of the dresser across from the bed.

Buffy shivered, wiggling in his lap. He cupped her face, kissing her softly as he trailed his fingertips along her back. He smiled at her when she giggled.

“You ready to get a little naughty with me?” he asked, tracing her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Is sweet little Buffy ready to do some porn?”

“I-I think so,” she stammered, gripping his biceps nervously.

“Shh,” he said, giving her another kiss. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

Spike lowered her onto the couch, smirking at her as he undid the button on her booty shorts. In one movement he got them pulled down around her ankles. His pillow soft lips caressed the insides of her thighs, and he took a whiff of her trembling quim before flicking his tongue out to taste her.

Buffy jumped, electrifying tingles dispersing all over her body. She gasped as she felt it in her fingertips, her wet center, the ends of her hair.

Spike gasped himself, his eyes wide as their gazes met. “You...”

She was silent, pursing her lips together.

“Fuck,” Spike groaned, burying his head between her thighs again.

She wriggled and moaned at every swipe of his tongue, which made him groan into her skin. Her breath hitched as he nibbled lightly on her clit, and bursts of color flashed behind her eyelids as he pushed a finger into her slick hole.

“Fuck!” Spike nearly sobbed, catching every drop of her arousal on his tongue like a man starved. He stared at her hard as he yanked her back into his lap and onto his erection. “No one's had you like that before,” he said in amazement, his gaze boring into hers.

Buffy's face reddened, which only deepened when suddenly the intensity of the moment made her come around his dick at first penetration. “Oh!” she cried, shuddering around him. “Oh...”

Spike didn't move, though his hips were heavy and flush against hers as she quaked around him. His eyes were glazed and hooded by the time she realized he had yet to budge.

Her sudden heedfulness seemed to set him off. He flipped her onto her back and curled an arm around her head, moving his hips with a calculated deliberateness that left her shaking beneath him.

“Spike... Spike!” Buffy panted, holding on for dear life.

The person in question growled and kissed her.

“Oh God oh God,” she sobbed as he buried his face in her neck, digging her nails into his shoulders.

He abruptly pulled out, tugging her onto her hands and knees. He gave a loud groan as he sank back inside her from behind, gripping her hips.

Buffy's vision swam. “Spike...” she slurred, suddenly breaking into a cold sweat.

Her costar tensed. “Luv?”

“Dizzy,” she whimpered, falling flat on her face.

“Buffy!” he cried, pulling out and turning her onto her back. He noticed how clammy her skin was, and how her hands shook when she lifted them. He frowned, staring into dull eyes. “Sweetheart, when was the last time you've eaten?” he demanded.

“Um,” Buffy replied sluggishly, “y-yesterday morning?”

Spike growled, pulling her into his arms and taking her into the break room. She sniffled as he put her down in one of the chairs surrounding a metal table. “Oh, luv, don' cry,” he said gently, digging through the contents of the refrigerator. “Here,” he said, handing her an apple. “I don' want your body to get too much of a shock. Try eating that slowly an' then we'll see what else we can feed you.”

He sat down next to her as she nibbled at the last bit of apple, holding out a peeled banana.

“Thank you,” she croaked, tears streaming down her face.

Spike grabbed a glass and filled it with water, placing it down in front of her. “May I ask why you've not eaten in a little over twenty-four hours?”

Buffy looked crestfallen. “I had to choose between paying for another night at the motel and eating.” She swallowed hard, then broke down completely.

“Hush, luv,” Spike murmured, squeezing her shoulder. “Don' waste your energy. Finish that water an' that banana an' then we can find somethin' with more substance.”

She pouted. “I ruined the shoot.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Can always do it again, yeh?”

She blushed, nibbling the banana. He pulled a shirt over her head after she'd finished eating, then helped her into a pair of gym shorts.

“Thought I was just another piece of meat,” Buffy commented when he took a step back.

Spike sighed. “Guess you're feelin' better, then.” When she crossed her arms to her chest, he lowered his eyes and muttered, “Look. I'm a berk, alright?”

She frowned. “A what?”

He waved his hand. “Forget it. You still hungry?”

Her stomach rumbled loudly. Her cheeks turned red.

The bleach blond smirked. “Lemme take you home with me.”

“Wh-What?” Buffy shrieked, feeling dizzy again—for another reason entirely.

His smirk grew wider. “Let's get somethin' in you.”

She ran a hand through her hair, looking flustered. “Are we still talking about food?”

Spike laughed. “Yes, luv.” Before she could respond, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “You got anything in your dressing room?”

“My purse,” she replied, biting her lip and staring at their joined hands.

“Let's get that.”

Buffy still felt too weak to argue. Outside, he put her purse in the back compartment of his motorcycle before handing her his helmet and straddling the bike.

“Hold on tight, luv,” he murmured, starting the engine.

She did just that, a permanent blush heating her face. Spike stopped at a red light, releasing one of the grips to gently massage where her hands were clasped in front of him.

They stopped in front of a plain gray apartment complex. Spike parked in a spot in the lot, got her purse from the back, and led her to the single glass door. He unlocked it with a keypad and then they walked up one flight of stairs before arriving in front of his door.

“Bit of a mess,” Spike warned before unlocking it and pushing it open.

They walked into his living room. His coffee table had piles of papers strewn all over it next to a closed laptop. The living room led directly into a kitchenette, where there were candles on the counter with hardened wax pooling on the faux marble.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, placing his helmet on the floor by the fridge before opening up one of the cupboards above the stove.

Buffy dropped onto his black leather couch, feeling her thighs tremble. She sighed, closing her eyes and drawing her knees to her chest. She awoke sometime later to Spike putting a plate of chicken fettuccine in front of her on a now cleared up table along with a glass of water.

“Eat up, luv,” he ushered her gently.

“What about you?” Buffy croaked, rubbing her eye with a closed fist.

“Gettin' my plate now. Don't you fret.”

She watched him go into the kitchen and come back with his own plate and glass. Her plate seemed to empty in the blink of an eye.

He chuckled. “Liked it, did you?”

She blushed. “Uh, think I just inhaled it.”

Spike laughed. “Go on an' get seconds. Or thirds. Don' even care if you finish it.”

Buffy stood to get more pasta and chicken on her plate. This time she savored it, and when she finished put the plate on the coffee table and sank into the couch and sighed happily. She smiled at him, patting her stomach. “Thank you. That was really good.”

“You sure you're done?”

She laughed. “Yes, jeez, mom.”

Spike smiled and took both their plates, washing them in the sink. When he sat down next to her again, Buffy shifted uncomfortably.

“Um, are you sure I didn't ruin the shoot? We didn't miss a deadline or anything?”

“Nah. Angels Agency is as informal as they come. Jus' call it Angel's weird...uh...hobby.”

She raised her eyebrows. “His wife is okay with this?”

Spike guffawed. “His wife was his costar.”

She giggled right along with him. When she calmed down, she asked, “So you're sure? No deadline or anything?”

He smirked. “If you're so worried about it, we could finish it right here.”

Buffy blushed. “I-Is it something...we should worry about?”

“Right adorable that you care so much,” Spike purred, threading his fingers through hers and tugging her closer.

“But...I have pasta belly,” she protested weakly, biting her lip when he lifted her shirt up.

“Oh yeh? Lemme see,” he murmured, pulling her shirt up. He grabbed her by the waist and tugged her down the length of the couch so she was lying on her back. He kissed down her sternum, smirking against her skin when she whimpered and arched into his touch. Then he blew a raspberry on her tummy.

Buffy shrieked. “Spike!”

Spike laughed.

“Oh, you're a hoot,” she grumbled, hugging her borrowed shirt to her chest.

“Oh, luv, don' be that way,” he chuckled. “Don' want to do anything you're uncomfortable with. Think it'd be much better for you to digest your food, anyhow.”

She crunched her eyebrows into a frown. “Who are you?”

He waggled his. “Thought we introduced ourselves pretty good earlier tonight.”

“Yeah, right after the horrible first introduction.”

Spike cackled. “Oh, m'still that horrible. I've got more than one dimension, luv, if you know what I mean.”

“Understanding that very quickly,” Buffy remarked, wrinkling her nose.

He leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. She sighed against his lips, throwing her arms around his shoulders when he nipped at her bottom lip.

“Where's the camera?” she asked suddenly.

“Oh, you're a right romantic,” Spike said, rolling his eyes. “Can't kiss you when we're not rollin'?” He waggled his eyebrows again.

Buffy sighed. “Spike, I can't do that. You're my coworker.”

“M'clean! An' unattached!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I would hope that you're clean given our...careers.” She stood, toeing on her shoes. “Thank you for dinner, Spike. I really appreciate it. I'll see you on set tomorrow?”

Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “M'tryin' to ask you out here.”

She clenched her fists. “I-I can't do this. I'm sorry.”

“What part of 'this' can't you do?”

“We just finished having sex two hours ago, on business terms, and you're asking me out after...after we just made out on your couch and the lines are all blurry and it's just not something I can handle right now, and I don't even know how to process if we're flirting or prepping for making a video, and you were such a dick when I met you and I had your penis in me two hours after that lovely introduction and oh God...” she babbled, nearly running for the door.

“Oh, Christ, woman,” Spike growled, grabbing her elbow gently. “At least let me drive you home, you crazy bint.”

They continued to stare at each other heatedly as Spike shoved his socked feet into his boots.

Buffy sighed. “Fine.”

He groaned. When they arrived in front of his bike, he shrugged and handed her his helmet. “So we're doin' things a little backwards.”

“Spike,” she muttered, covering her face with her hands.

“Well, let's talk about it,” Spike growled.

“I told you that I can't,” Buffy whispered, her bottom lip trembling. “Please.”

When Spike mounted the bike with his jaw clenched, Buffy slid on behind him, clenching the handles under the seat. He turned his head to look at her. “You've got enough money for the motel?”

She nodded. “I paid for tonight.”

“An' what are you gonna do about tomorrow?” he snapped.

“I was gonna think about that...tomorrow,” she squeaked.

“Why don' you stay with me?”

She glared at him. “Didn't I just--”

Spike's nostrils flared. “Got it. You can't do it. But you can sleep on a couch for a few days. That's what I'm offerin'.” When she gave a silent nod, he started the engine. “Where's your motel?”

He parked directly in front of her room. He stood when she got off.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She bit her lip when he gently cupped her face.

“Think about it, will you?” he muttered before taking a step back and getting back on his bike.

When she stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, she sighed, “Trust me, it's all I'll probably think about tonight.”

On autopilot, Buffy stepped into the shower, brushed her teeth, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.


Buffy awoke to the sound of someone rapping on the metal door. She rolled over and groaned, wiping at a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth. “Hold on!” she hollered, stumbling out of bed. She opened the door only to squint into the bright morning light and the way it glinted off of Spike's bleach blond head. “Wh...huh?” She glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand. “It's nine. Why...?”

Spike produced a pamphlet from his back pocket. “Checkout's at eleven. Don' want to get charged. Also, thought you might want some brekky.” He stepped inside and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Um,” Buffy said sleepily, “lemme brush my teeth.”

He smiled handsomely at her and sat at the foot of the unmade bed. “I'll be here.”

When she emerged from the restroom wearing a long-sleeve baby tee and short shorts, she wasn't ready for the dark look of lust that had fallen over Spike's features.

“Let's hurry,” he said, his voice deeper than she was used to.

Buffy gulped, gathering her belongings and shoving them in a small overnight bag.

He was directly behind her. She could feel the heat coming off of his body. “S'that all you have?”

When she turned around, they were mere millimeters from one another. “Yeah huh,” she said, biting her lip.

Spike lowered his gaze to her nude legs. “You're gonna have to get used to wearin' pants, luv. Shorts aren't exactly comfortable on the bike.”

“Should I change?” she asked.

Spike's hands seemed to gravitate to her hips on their own accord. “Yeah.” He released her as if burned, then took a step back. He took the overnight bag from her once she pulled out a pair of pants. “I'll wait outside.”

When she stepped out into the parking lot, he was finishing up bungeeing her belongings to the back of his bike. She carefully straddled the seat, trying her best not to make too much bodily contact with him. When they arrived in front of his apartment building, he easily undid the bungee cords from the back and slung her bag over his shoulder.

Buffy watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he unlocked the door with his eyes still fixed on hers.

“Made you breakfast,” he murmured. “Go on into the living room.”

Buffy gasped when she saw what he had prepared. On the coffee table was a huge platter of large green grapes, peeled orange segments, strawberries, cantaloupe cut into one inch cubes, and a little bowl of powdered sugar. “Spike, what...” She turned around to find him setting up a camcorder on a tripod. She laughed. “Look who's a right romantic now.”

Spike didn't say a word. He set the camera a foot away from the coffee table, and her mouth went dry as he immediately tugged his shirt over his head. She swallowed, backing up until her legs hit the couch.

“Spike...” she whimpered. She had hardly moved a muscle, but was panting all the same.

He took an orange slice from the platter, touching the juicy pulp to her lips. She darted her tongue out to taste its tartness. Spike began to breathe heavily as he fed her the orange, gasping when she suckled on his fingertip. He took her hand and pulled her down to the couch, grasping the hem of her baby tee and pulling it over her head in one motion. Buffy watched with hooded eyes as he took a strawberry from the plate, his gaze never leaving hers as he swirled it into the bowl of powdered sugar. He made a move to put it in her mouth, but gently rubbed the powdered tip against her bottom lip. He moved it down in barely-there touches and strokes, down her chin, over the swell of her chest, swirling around a sensitive areola and then a puckered nipple. Buffy licked her bottom lip, tasting the sweetness of the sugar.

Spike's light blue eyes seemed to darken further as he trailed the berry down her abdomen, then suddenly nestled the solid tip of the fruit between her legs, swirling it around her engorged clit. Buffy moaned, throwing her head back as he continued to rub it tortuously against her sensitive flesh. When she was nearing orgasm, Spike pushed it between her swollen folds, and she screamed as he moved the rough skin of the fruit against her gspot. The bleach blond groaned as she squirted all over his hand.

He raised the berry to his mouth and bit into the fruit, moaning. Buffy had never see anything hotter, and she unabashedly tugged at her nipples as he swallowed the treat. He came to her, crushing his mouth to hers in an electric kiss. Without her knowledge he had taken a plump grape from the table, popping it inside her and swirling it against her spot with the curved fingertips of his middle and pointer. He kissed her again, reveling in the vibrations of her whimpering against his mouth. He retrieved the supple sphere at the end of her orgasm, popping it between his anterior teeth with an audible crunch.

At some point Buffy couldn't tell where her orgasms ended or where they began as he conscientiously picked firm, rough fruit to rub ceaselessly against her tender spot, only to consume it at the end of her crest.

She was utterly sensitized by the time he knelt in between her legs, rubbing his precum all over his cock before entering her. She cried out as her walls adjusted to his shape, and with one firm thrust she was undone again, slamming her hips up against his, writhing underneath him, panting and grasping at his chiseled arms.

Spike was panting himself. “Love it when you do that,” he cooed.

Buffy grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him roughly. He bit her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as they moved sensuously together. He angled his dick so that it rubbed tormentingly against her top wall while his pelvic bone caught her clit just right. He smirked when she keened again and again, groaning when she bit his chest.

He smiled when she giggled. “What?”

“Now I'm really hungry,” she snickered. “You selfish guy, eating all the goodies.”

He batted his eyelashes at her. “Couldn't help it, luv. You taste so good.”

Buffy blushed.

“You gonna get dizzy again if I flip you?”

She shook her head.

“You sure?”

She nodded.

“On your tummy then, sweetheart,” he crooned into her ear, smiling as she shivered. “Gonna let daddy finish inside you, hmm?”

She gasped when he invaded her from behind, peppering kisses along her shoulders and upper back and threading his fingers through hers as he started to thrust. She couldn't form thoughts or words as he moved sinuously against her, her bottom flush against his pelvic region. He groaned aloud when she squeezed around him, burying his face at her nape as she ground against him. He pushed his hips as far down as they could go, impaling her so deeply and so heavily that she swore she could feel him in her womb. She arched her back, both of them shouting as they came simultaneously.

Spike leaned his perspiring forehead against her shoulder blade. “You feelin' okay, baby?”

“Mmmmm,” she moaned. “We should have breakfast everyday.”

He chortled. “It is the most important meal.” He moved back as she maneuvered around to sit up. “We're still rolling,” he whispered into her ear, kissing the lobe gently.

Buffy threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Kissing him was like achieving nirvana again and again. He growled against her mouth, sliding his tongue between her lips. She gave it a hard suck, whimpering as he positioned the head of his cock between her thighs. Their combined spendings helped him slide in smoothly, and they spent the next hour grinding against one another desperately. She fell apart again and again until she knew nothing but sensation, and him. He came with a roar, and she squeezed every drop of his cum out of him.

Spike had no energy left but to cradle her in his arms, caressing her skin tantalizingly with calloused fingertips. He kissed the top of her hair and then the slope of her neck, sighing happily as she burrowed her face in his chest. “Better feed you before you get dizzy,” he murmured against her cheek.

Buffy sighed happily, then pouted. “Don't wanna move.”

He gave her a sweet kiss. “Not even for some flapjacks?”

“It's your fault,” she said, her pout deepening.

“What's my fault now?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I'm all jelly legs.”

He chuckled, embracing her tightly. “I can take the blame for that, then.”

“Mmmmm, pancakes smothered in boysenberry jelly and butter,” Buffy gasped.

“That's it,” Spike declared, lifting her up in his arms, “we're gettin' in the shower and then we're goin' grocery shopping.” He approached the bathroom door, then decidedly pinned her against the wall next to it. “But first m'gonna fuck you right here.”

Buffy wailed as he took her slowly, roughly, digging her nails into his back. When he finally got them into the tub, Buffy carefully lowered her legs. “Okay, we really can't do it in here.”

“Why the hell not?” he asked, adjusting the water temperature.

“The drought? Hello?” Buffy said, rolling her eyes.

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “Guess we could do a bit o' water conservation.”

They got dressed in a companionable silence, and Buffy stole a couple cubes of cantaloupe before they went downstairs. Spike lived across the street from a Grocery Outlet, so they made their way over there for preserves and pancake mix.

Spike bumped her hip with his in front of the jellies and jams. “Did you think about it some?”

Buffy smiled shyly at him. “Some,” she admitted.

He grinned and took her hand.

She quickly untangled her hand from his. “But--”

“But what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Not here, please?” she pleaded.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He was silent as they put their groceries on the conveyor belt, and the walk back to the building was tense.

“Well?” he asked as they climbed the stairs.

“I do wanna,” she said quickly. “A lot.”


“I don't think I'll be able to handle everything,” she confessed, sounding exasperated.

He smirked, though she could tell it was forced. “You've handled everything very well, I assure you.”

“That's not what I meant,” she said, impatient.

“Then what?” he nearly shouted, then deflated and scratched his cheek awkwardly.

“Spike, we're in the adult film industry,” she beseeched him. “I'd never be able to handle it if you fucked someone else or I had to suck someone else's...” She blushed.

“Now let's not get ahead of ourselves,” he cackled. “Haven't done the latter yet.”

“Spike, please take this seriously?” she groaned, pulling on the ends of her hair.

“Oh, I am,” he replied, sounding amused. “Do you recall Angel yellin' at me for tryin' to scare you away?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Well, he'd just about given up on me 'til you came along. We were about to call it quits 'til you interviewed.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. I may be a devil in bed, but my mouth usually fucks it up for me.”

“I thought your mouth did fine,” she blurted, then blushed.

“'preciate that, luv,” he said, smiling at her.


He raised his eyebrows. “There's an 'and'?” he groaned.

Buffy bit her lip. “W-We... We don't know anything about each other.”

He stepped closer to her, his hands on her waist. “Well, I know you can cum from penetration alone, an' that gets me all hot an' bothered.”

She rolled her eyes. “That's one thing. And, uh, that's never happened before...with another person.”

He grinned gleefully. “Jus' like the oral sex hadn't?”

Her face got red. “Was it that obvious? Maybe I'm just really sensitive down there!”

“Mmmhmm, you are,” he purred. “Love it,” he murmured, nibbling on her earlobe.

“I know you're a dick,” she muttered, gasping when he nipped at her throat.

“See? One for one,” he chortled. “We'll learn things as we go. An' go on nice li'l dates... Know a drive-in theatre where I'd love to eat you out at.”

“But what if Angel hires somebody else?”

He shrugged. “Then we say no an' leave. He's the director and producer, not a slave driver.”

She sighed.

“Did I not mention eatin' you out at a drive-in? What're you so upset about?”

“I can't just leave the agency. I'm bankrupt. The IRS already took everything I have.”

“What about if s'just you an' me?” he asked quietly.

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“We're damn hot together, Buffy. You an' me. Webcam. People love watchin' that shit. You'll make thousands in hours.”

She was silent for several moments. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.” He took her by the hands and reeled her in. “An' it'll be so much fun...”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Don't you think it's a bit...unconventional?”

Spike barked out a laugh, then nearly fell over giggling. “Luv, we met on a porn set. You don' think that's unconventional enough?”

She blushed when he pulled her into his arms. Strangely, him holding her this way felt more intimate than everything they'd ever done.

Spike's cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He kept one arm around her as he put the receiver to his ear. “'lo? Hey, you great ponce. How's the wee one?” When he hung up after the short conversation, he slid his phone back into his pocket and looked at his costar-turned-beau. “Wanna meet the li'l brat?”

“But...pancakes,” Buffy pouted.

He chuckled. “Look at that lip...gonna get it.” He nibbled lightly at it, groaning as she slid her hands up the front of his shirt. “Alright, pancakes first, then we get to meet the ponce's spawn.”

She rolled her eyes. “You're a sweet as can be,” she remarked.

He smirked, giving her a quick kiss. “An' don' you forget it.”

She watched him take the box of pancake mix from his reusable shopping bag and pour some into a small bowl before getting a pan and putting it on the stove. She took the bowl from the table to pour water into it from the sink, mixing it gradually with a fork he handed her. “Don't you think we're moving too fast?” she asked, handing the mixture to him after he dropped a pat of butter in the pan.

Spike frowned at her. “What, luv?”

“Well...you're letting me sleep on the couch, a-and we're just talking about things, really, and I think that pan isn't hot enough yet!” She began to wring her hands when he glared at her. “I mean, don't you need space?”

“I've got lots of space,” Spike insisted, gesturing to it all with his spatula.

“Okay, I need space. I've been living alone for a little over four years. I just feel like we're gonna step on each other's toes or you're gonna get sick of me or we're just gonna drive each other crazy and maybe sex won't be as fulfilling if we're gonna have to do it everyday on webcam--”

“Luv,” he interjected, “the entire time you've been talking I've been imagining me bending you over this counter. I swear you are in no danger of me gettin' sick of you in the near or far future. An' you're welcome to stay wherever you like. If you need to earn a li'l more and stay on the couch for a couple weeks and prefer stayin' at that motel, that's fine by me. If you'd like to crawl into bed with me—also fine. M'not lockin' you up in a tower, Buffy. Now, how many flapjacks do you want?”

“Four?” Buffy asked shyly.

“Love a woman who knows how to eat,” he said with a grin, pouring some of the batter into the cookware. He plucked the jar of boysenberry jam from the shopping bag. “An' here you are,” he said, moving it within her reach.

They stood eating in a comfortable silence at the counter.

“Got any milk?” Buffy asked with her mouth full.

“Mmmhmm,” Spike replied, opening up the fridge. He poured her a glass. He kissed the back of her neck as she put the empty plate in the sink. “Would really appreciate you crawlin' into bed with me while you're here. I don' mind you stayin' on the couch, but I do enjoy your company...”

Buffy blushed as she began to rinse her fork.

“Almos' ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she said, turning off the water.

Spike pressed a kiss to her forehead before they made their way out onto the parking lot.

When they arrived at Angel's flat, he was surprised to see her there. “Buffy.” He glanced at Spike. “Are you holding her hostage?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I'm staying on his couch until I have more money for the motel.”

The dark haired man frowned. “Do you need an advance on your paycheck?”

“Don' worry 'bout a thing, Daddy-O,” Spike said. “Now where's that cheerleader o'yours?”

“Bedroom with Connor. Come on in.” He glanced back at Buffy again. “To be honest, I wasn't sure if you were gonna stay. I actually found another model just in case you didn't. I mean, Spike is a total ass and will probably scare this one away, too, but if you're uncomfortable with any of this, just say the word.”

The bleach blond growled. “An' when were you gonna tell me this?”

Buffy bit her lip. “Can I still keep my job? Am I working alongside this girl?”

“Of course, Buff. Two is definitely better than one, especially since you're both total knockouts. And I'm sure Spike won't mind the attention.” Angel chuckled.

Cordelia sat up when she saw she had visitors. “Honey! You could've warned me so I could put on some makeup!”

Spike smirked. “Aw, don' do that, luv. Those eye bags are so becoming on you.”

Angel's wife glared at him before her gaze landed on Buffy. “Wow! You've actually stayed? Somebody can actually stand Spike?”

The blond girl blushed. “Uh, he's not so bad...when he's not talking.”

“Not so bad?!” Cordelia gasped. She narrowed her eyes at Spike. “What did you do to her? Don't let him trick you!”

“'ey! You go on about me like I'm some kind of womanizer!” the subject of their conversation growled.

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. “You mean you're not?”

Cordelia smiled. “I like you. Wanna hold my baby?”

She grinned. “Sure.”

“Don't drop him,” she said, placing him in Buffy's arms, “I'm not sure if he's on the insurance officially yet.”

The girls were cooing over Connor's pooping faces when Spike pulled Angel aside.

“You bloody hired somebody else?” the bleach blond snarled.

“Well, yeah, it looked like things were going a little sour,” the other man said with a shrug.

“Fire her,” he growled.

“What? No! She's just what we need. What's your issue now?”

Spike sighed. “It's Buffy.”

Angel frowned. “You're on a first name basis with her? Weren't you calling her a piece of meat yesterday?”

He waved his hand at him. “Doesn' matter. She told me she's not comfortable with me sleepin' with anyone else.”

The brunette gave him a blank stare. “She does realize she signed on to be on adult films, right? And I told her everything about the clinic. If she's so worried about catching something, I can ask Faith if she'd be okay showing her her most recent test. She got negatives on everything. And why is it you discussing this with me and not her? She--” His eyes widened, and then he narrowed his eyes at the bleach blond. “What did you do?”

Spike shrugged. “Uh, may have asked 'er out.”

“Jesus Christ. She was crazy enough to say yes?”


Angel sighed. “Look, I booked Faith in for Monday. If Buffy's uncomfortable watching you fuck someone, she doesn't have to come in 'til later.”

“Lemme talk to her about this.”

“Spike. I've already made a lot of concessions for you. Either you're in or you're out, man. I love you like a brother, but I've got a business to run. You're either helping or you're ditching.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fuck. Alright. See you Monday.”

Enter the security code shown below:
Note: You may submit either a rating or a review or both.