Massaging her sore backside, Buffy watched the herd of Potentials thunder up the stairs, calling dibs for the shower. The Slayer knew it would be hours before the one bathroom was free. A groan escaped her lips and she rubbed harder at stiff muscles.

"Hey, Buff." Xander emerged from the kitchen, polishing a wrench.

"What's that bit from Lethal Weapon? I'm too old for this shit."

He grinned. "Old? You? Never."

Buffy smiled in return, ignoring the melancholy hitting her. Old never, was probably right. It was highly unlikely she'd live past May. Pushing that thought aside, she gave her friend a hopeful look. "I don't suppose the new bathroom in the basement is ready."

Xander shook his head. "Sorry, Buffy. We still have the sink and toilet to hook up and, you know, walls."

"I thought we were just going with screens."

"Right now they're very rolly and very sheer. I'm going to try to lock them down and get thicker curtains."

Buffy sighed. "Right now I'd bathe naked in the front yard."

"Well, you could do that," he leered at her, "but the shower's up and running, though wall-less."

Her eyes lit up and she flung herself into Xander's arms, giving him a smacking kiss. "You are a lifesaver."

Xander grinned. "Happy to oblige."

Breaking away from him, the Slayer danced down the hallway, no longer moving like a ninety year old after a hip replacement.

Buffy flipped on the light at the top of the stairs and quickly descended into the cool, quiet basement. In one corner, cleared of junk, stood a couple of white cloth screens on wheels surrounding a standard white sink and stool. The odd-looking part was the shower. Right now it was a fiberglass basin with fiberglass walls on two sides only. The opaque door and wall hadn't been installed yet.

As she quickly stripped off her clothing, Buffy couldn't care less. As long as the water was running, it could even be cold.

Grabbing a towel from a basket on the dryer and a bar of soap and bottle of shampoo from the laundry sink, she dumped them on top of the toilet and reached for the shower handle.

Hot water poured over her hand.

Smiling at the simple joy, she stepped beneath the spray, and closed her eyes.

Weary and sore from his own night of fighting, Spike stood in the foyer, eyes to the ceiling, listening to the noises of a couple dozen girls. He couldn't distinguish the Slayer from the others, and quickly gave up. He figured if Buffy hadn't survived the night, there wouldn't be so much giggling going on.

Running a hand through his hair, he grimaced as it came back sticky. Damn Pluther demons. Why did he always get the gooey ones? At least he'd kept the crap off his duster. Muttering to himself, he headed for the basement stairs, anticipating a cold wash in the laundry sink, and a sleepless night on the lumpy cot.

The sound of running water hitting taut flesh and the scent of ivory soap penetrated his senses at the same time and he stumbled off the bottom step. The soap did nothing to mask her unique scent--a hint of vanilla, cinnamon and blood.

Steam rose above the curtained corner where the shower ran hot, dampening the cloth hangings and making them opaque. Spike could see pink and peach and tan blurs as she turned beneath the waterfall. His eyes trailed shamelessly down her slender form, finding the darker blur between her legs.

Arousal shuddered through him, an old and familiar friend.

The lumpy cot was not the only thing keeping him from sleeping two floors beneath her.

Unable to stop himself Spike prowled silently across the floor towards the showering Slayer. As he moved, he shed his duster, then his shirt, his conscious mind not even realizing what his body was doing. Bending over, he snapped the laces of his docs and kicked them off, then he grabbed hold of the nearest curtain and sent it rolling away.

Her back was turned to him, nude and wet and unshielded by door or curtain. Sliding his eyes slowly down her body as she lifted soap covered hands to her hair he smirked at the sight of bruises on her butt.

Had the Slayer been naughty?

His wicked mind calling up images of the few spanking sessions she'd allowed him the year before, he grunted softly and massaged his groin, shifting his erection to a less painful position.

In the shower, humming tunelessly to herself, Buffy slowly came to the realization that she was no longer alone, though she felt no sense of danger. Her hands slowed in her hair, then fell to her sides as she ducked beneath the spray to rinse out the shampoo.

Relaxing her mind, she felt the approach, felt the air around her displace, replaced by a body.

Familiar.

Opening her eyes, Buffy turned.

She wasn't surprised at the sight before her, but Spike was. Startled out of his lustful stupor, he seemed to shrink within himself and stammered something about his bedroom, the unfinished bathroom, and not knowing she was there. Something inside her tightened, then blossomed, and heat flooded her.

As he lowered his eyes in shame and started to back away, Buffy came to a decision and reached out a hand.

"You have slime in your hair."

"...Huh?" One shaking hand instinctively went to his head and he scowled as he finally remembered the goo. Trying to shake it from his hand, he then remembered that Buffy was standing there under the water very, very naked. "Um...Buffy?" He started to turn again.

"No...please."

Spike lifted his eyes, and what he read in hers made him sharply draw in his breath.

He'd never expected to see desire in those hazel depths again.

"I want you," Buffy said softly, holding out her other hand, beckoning for him to come to her.

He shook his head, dazed and confused. "Luv, no. You...you can't."

"Because it's wrong? Spike, I don't believe that. I'm not sure I ever did."

Choking, he shook his head harder. "Nhh...no. Last Spring...I hurt...I tried..."

"You weren't the same man, and even then you regretted it. Right?"

He nodded, tears stinging his eyes as the memories of that horrible night in the bathroom upstairs filled his mind.

"And I...I learned to regret all I'd done to you." As he looked up, shocked, Buffy quickly added, "I'm not saying that what you did was justified, but I hurt you just as much. I hit you and abused you and knew you'd take it all and still be there for me to use again. It was wrong of me to use you like that. I don't want that now. I want..." She stepped over the sill of the shower and walked the few feet to him. The chill of the basement gave her goose bumps and made her nipples harden.

She smiled as Spike's gaze locked on them.

"I just want you. I don't want to hurt you or use you. I want...mutual."

When he continued to stare at her, mouth hanging slightly open, Buffy began to lose her nerve.

"You...you don't want me anymore?"

"Sweet Christ, Buffy, of course I want you," Spike swore hoarsely. "I just don't know if this...Is this right? What have I done to deserve this?"

"Nothing. Everything. It doesn't matter. We want each other. We're lonely and death hangs over our heads and why can't we get some pleasure out of each other?" Her hands gently touched his chest, and she smiled at his groan.

"You don't love me," he whispered.

"No," and there was regret in her voice. "But I care. It's all I can give you. Well, that and me." Her hands slipped up his chest to his shoulders, and she gently kneaded his tense muscles. "Your hair's all goopy. You need a shower." She started to guide him backwards.

Spike hesitated for a moment, then gave in, his hands finding the buckle of his belt. Rising to her toes, Buffy pressed her lips to his, first hesitantly, then quickly finding the familiar rhythm. Together they slid his jeans from him and he lifted her into the shower.

Buffy found herself pressed against the stubbly wall, her mouth being devoured as strong yet incredibly gentle hands ran up and down her sides, sending shivers through her. Spike kissed like the world was ending. He always had.

Hands sliding around his back, Buffy maneuvered them beneath the hot water. She knew it couldn't last forever, and he'd want the slime out of his hair. Rolling his neck, Spike saturated his hair, then kissed her again as she fumbled for the shampoo.

Standing on her toes to massage the shampoo into his curls, Buffy felt his erection press hard against her stomach, and moaned softly. Spike looked down at her from hooded eyes, and sighed as her fingers rubbed his scalp. Her arched into her hands then caught her hips and kissed her again.

"Rinse," she moaned into his mouth, directing his head back beneath the spray. Soap ran over both their bodies as they embraced again, their tongues and teeth tangling in mutual passion.

AS they kissed, Spike cupped one of her breasts, his thumb rubbing against her nipple, while the other slid over her bottom, bringing her tighter against him. Buffy wriggled against him, and his cock throbbed in need. He cursed softly as he realized he wouldn't last much longer.

Nearly a year of only his own hand touching him cost him most of his control.

"Can't wait," Spike gasped out as he spun her around and pressed her into the nearest wall, his hands grabbing her ass and lifting her off the floor. Buffy wrapped her arms and legs around him and buried her mouth in his neck, sucking hungrily on the taut flesh.

And then he was inside her, driving her hard against the wall. Lifting her head, Buffy stared into his eyes, watching them go from stormy gray to bright blue as lust was replaced with joy.

She remembered that look, and the accompanying one of wonder.

Their first time.

Against a wall.

A bolt of pleasure went through her and she moved, using her strength to rock on his cock, her inner muscles fluttering around him, delighting them both. Spike grunted into her ear, and a shudder hit her spine.

She'd missed this.

As he buried himself again and again in her wet heat, Spike felt the last threads of control slip his grasp, and gave in, pounding her harder against the wall. His mouth found her neck, her shoulder, her ear, nipping and kissing, as he groaned and pumped.

Buffy dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers for a hungry kiss as she went wild, thrusting onto him faster and faster, matching him need for need and lust for lust.

A tremor ran through him and he stiffened, then threw back his head and yelled. Buffy felt him come and clamped down on his cock as her own orgasm rolled through her, the waves of pleasure growing with each desperate thrust of his cock into her.

Rolling her head on the wall, she moaned his name and he buried his mouth between her breasts, panting harshly. Together they slumped against the wall as the water began to cool.

Suddenly Buffy giggled and Spike lifted his head to give her a wary look. Wriggling, she slipped off him and stood on trembling legs, her arms still around his neck. She giggled again and kissed his chin.

"Something funny?"

"At least we didn't fall through the floor this time," she snickered.

"Are you...are you making a joke about sex with me?" Spike asked, amazed at her attitude. He was used to her rolling away from and leaving with a hateful comment, not laughter.

"My mother used to say that laughter was the best medicine." She smiled sincerely up at him. "We have a lot of healing to do, and laughter's in short supply around here."

Spike cocked one ear to the ceiling. "Seems to be quite a bit of giggling going on up there."

"Adult laughter," she stressed, still smiling.

"Okay." He was still a bit wary, though, and leaned down slowly to kiss her carefully. Buffy met him halfway and left him gasping.

Turning off the shower, she took his hand and tugged him from the shower. "That bed over there looks...well, totally uncomfortable, but if you wouldn't mind some company..."

Chuckling, Spike scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the cot. As he settled her on it, he grew serious again for a moment. "You sure, luv?"

Sliding her fingers through his wet curls, Buffy nodded, "Yes, very sure, William," and pulled him down for another searing kiss.

 

The End

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