He definitely had no reason to do it around the Summers' merry little home anymore. Half-Pint was always happy to have him (took after dear Joyce in that regard), and after the whole bonding experience they'd shared over Glory's demise, Buffy had become much more tolerant.

Okay, so he usually still hid behind the big oak tree in the front yard to catch a glimpse of nummy Slayer nekkidness. Buffy not being able to close the drapes in her room wasn't his problem, and he liked to think that as long as he was watching her no one else could because if they did, well, he'd see them and would be able to scare them away with a little growl and some fang. Made him all warm and noble inside. Among other things.

Tonight, though, the bedroom light was off. Disappointed, but not giving up hope for a late-night peep show -- she could be in the shower, and that meant there would be the whole glistening factor, and with her miles of tanned, firm skin and supple curves...mmmm, there was nothing like a wet, naked Slayer -- Spike slipped around to the back of the house.

Ever since she'd been resurrected with the mojo her little Scoobies had worked (he could make fun of them still, he was only an honorary Scoob) he'd been dropping by a lot more. He *was* bloody well in love with the girl, after all, and her little six feet under stint had certainly been a very loud wake up call. If he was going to win her heart and worm his way in between those shapely thighs of hers, he had to get her to appreciate and want him right back.

The lights in both the living room and the dining room had been on, although the dining room ones appeared to be dimmed a bit, and had that been candlelight flickering on the walls? He figured someone was home since the Slayer was all about saving electricity (something he attributed to the 'I love Mother Earth' phase she was going through). If it was Nibblit, he could catch the last half hour of SNL and maybe get her to make him some cocoa.

If it was Buffy...well, he was nothing if not persistent.

As he drew closer to the back door, his vamp hearing picked up the low din of the telly coming from inside. SNL it was, then. He was always up for a good tickle watching that guy with the big forehead do his Dubbaya impression. With that accent, and the cross-eyed sort of look --

That's when he heard the moaning.

"So, Half-Pint's discovered Skinemax," Spike smirked to himself, lighting up a cigarette as he climbed the stairs of the back porch. He blew out a ring of smoke and inhaled another puff, forcing his dead lungs to expand. "Or maybe the Slayer herself needs a little inspiration for those late-night finger sessions."

Easing the door open, Spike slipped into the kitchen and was greeted with the sound of flesh slapping against what sounded suspiciously like more flesh, accompanied by lots of whimpers and moans. His jaw dropped open, his cigarette hanging dangerously from his lip. Oh no. This wasn't good.

"Don't let it be Soldier Boy," Spike groaned. "Anyone but that pansy-assed fruit loop. Anyone but him. ANYONE but him."

Apprehensively the vampire crept up to the doorway leading to the dining room, where the sounds seemed to be coming from. He peered around the corner...

And the cigarette that had been hanging precariously did indeed fall from his lips at the sight before him.

Buffy -- *his* Buffy -- was splayed out on the large mahogany table like an all-you-can-eat buffet, writhing against the hard wood surface as she was fucked.

By Angel.

ANGEL?! Couldn't the Slayer have just gone out and brought another strapping young frat boy home? *Anyone* but his pansy of a grandsire. Suddenly, the thought of Captain Cardboard in the wanker's place was a very welcome one.

"Bloody hell," Spike groaned in total shock. They were obviously too wrapped up in their -- dear sweet Jesus, they were actually going at it right there in front of him. The Slayer was pressed against the hard table face down, with the bad-haired vampire behind her, thrusting shallowly. Judging by the thin sheen of sweat that made the Slayer all sorts of glowy in the candlelight, the two of them had been going at it for a while.

Buffy chose that moment to show off some of her Slayer flexibility, and Spike watched in sick fascination as she braced her hands on the table and began to twist her body. One leg slid beneath the other as she began to turn around, and she supported her weight fully on her thigh while she lifted her well-sculpted leg and slid it up his chest until her foot was even with his face.

Angel pressed an absentminded kiss to her perfectly manicured big toe as she continued to turn, her gaze locked with his and a small, seductive smile on her lips. He groaned as her calf slid back down his chest and she uncurled her other leg from beneath her, moving to wrap it around his hips again.

"Holy sweet Jesus," Spike muttered as he watched, his mouth hanging open. Not once during the move had Angel slipped out of her. Now *that* took skill. The pathetic, one hundred percent pure American Farm Boy had been way too vanilla to teach her that, and he briefly wondered where she'd learned it.

If he wasn't so shocked and furious and jealous, he would have a very big, very hard problem. As it was, the sight of Buffy's beautifully sculpted body moving so gracefully, her back arching with every motion of her body nearly did it for him.

And then she starting screaming. "Oh God, ANGEL! Yes, Angel, yes! Oh God, yesyesyesyesyes!" That took care of that. The two of them were pressed tightly together, their shadows illuminated by the damn near one hundred candles placed throughout the room. That had to be a fire hazard.

They slowed their rhythm, and the beautiful blonde wrapped her legs tightly around the wanker's waist and her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. He buried his hands in the long hair that flowed down her back freely and pumped his hips, causing her to keen against his mouth as their pelvises met in a wet smack of flesh on flesh.

Finally, he couldn't take the lovey-dovey mushy crap that what had started out as a scene from a porn flick had turned into. "Bloody hell, people EAT off that table! Have you no shame?!" Spike demanded, making himself known. Startled, Buffy and Angel simultaneously stopped their thrusting and turned their heads to stare at him.

"Spike," Angel bit out, tightening his grip possessively on Buffy's supple flesh, pulling her flush up against his body. The younger vampire's eyes narrowed at the display. Who did he think he was to just come back from the Great Big City of Poofs and fuck the recently resurrected Slayer? So they had that forbidden love thing going on -- there was a reason it was forbidden! Psycho evil vampires bent on sucking the whole bloody world into hell because they couldn't deal with rejection were unleashed as a result.

"Umm, either of you brainiacs remember what bloody well happened the last time you two got all fleshy? Are you *looking* for a repeat performance?" he asked. "Because if you are, you sure do know how to find it."

"Spike, GO AWAY," Buffy growled -- yes, growled. Her nose did the cutest thing when she did that -- no, bad thoughts. Well, not bad thoughts, because thoughts about what HE could do to her were never bad, he would do things to her the poorly coifed vampire between her legs would be too ashamed to try, make her beg and moan and scream and beg some more...but he was supposed to be stopping them.

Offended, Spike cleared his head and pointed a finger at her, saying, "Hey, missy! I'm trying to save your cute little ass -- speaking of, have you been working out? You look so...firm."

"Got a stake handy?" Angel grunted, thrusting into her again. Caught off guard, Buffy screeched, her bottom sliding across the dark finish of the table to meld with his body as her fingernails dug into his back.

"In. The. Drawer," she panted.

Angel turned around and reached, pulling out of her in the process. Buffy whined, while Spike cried, "Whoa there, Peaches, put that thing away!"

"Well, if you insist," Angel smirked, abandoning his search for the stake to sheath himself fully in Buffy's tight sex again.

"Oh I insist," she moaned, bracing one hand on the surface beneath her and keeping the other locked around his neck for support. She let go of him in favor of bracing her other hand behind her as well, arching away from him and throwing her head back to counter his thrusts better. Oh, but she had beautiful breasts, full and supple with dusky rose nipples poking up against the cool air...

"He gets a full view this way," Angel pointed out, not entirely happy about that. His wayward grandchilde was already watching the very private, nearly sacred act they shared, he did NOT want him to get to see her totally naked too.

"It's nothing he's never seen before."

Angel started at that. "What?!"

Buffy smiled, leaning up to kiss him roughly -- with tongue, for Spike's benefit -- before saying, "Spike the Pervo likes to stand outside my bedroom window at night and jerk off while I change."

"You'd better get your facts straight, Slayer," Spike called, grumbling. "I don't whack it until I get back to the crypt."

Turning her head sideways, she regarded Spike calmly. "Remind me again why we're having sex in front of Spike."

"*He* walked in on *us*. *He* needs to go *away*," Angel said as he pulled her closer again, wrapping his arms around her thin shoulders and pumping into her steadily, pressing kisses to her sweaty forehead.

"Don't you have any decency?!" Spike shouted, staring at them. "Can you stop trying to get your rocks off for one damn minute?!"

Angel raised his head and his gaze was nearly smoldering -- and not in an 'I want you right here right now' kind of way, since he was already busy taking care of that, and he'd never in all the years they'd been one big dysfunctional family looked at Spike like that (something the younger vampire was very happy about). "Leave, boy."

"If you stop talking to him, maybe he'll go away. Like standing really still when there's a bee buzzing around you," Buffy suggested, her voice husky.

Obviously willing to try out her theory (and a rather poor one at that, like Spike was just going to leave the fate of the fucking world with them), Angel smoothed his hands over her cheeks and kissed her softly, nibbling at her lips. Buffy suckled on his lower lip, biting down on the tender piece of flesh and then laving it with her tongue soothingly, giggling as he growled and moved deep within her again.

The room smelled like sex, a combination of musk and sweat, and Spike suddenly flashed back to nearly a century ago, when he'd been forced to watch Angelus fuck Dru right in front of him. Dysfunctional indeed.

"No offense, Peaches, but I'm really not up for seeing any more of Angel Jr. right now. Put that porn star-sized cock of yours away already," Spike grumbled, wanting to tear his eyes away from them but seemingly unable to do so -- he had a great view of Buffy's sex from here.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "Put it away. In me."

"Well, if you're not going to be the responsible ones, I guess I'll bloody well have to fill in," Spike stated, storming over to the couple and, after a brief examination and an oath to purify his palms in holy water later, put his hands on Angel's hips, intent on pulling him out and away from the Slayer.

All *that* brilliant plan accomplished was deeper thrusts for Buffy, because as Spike tried to pull, Angel struggled to twist away, driving himself harshly into the Slayer. She keened and writhed against him, squeezing her tiny hands into fists as a fierce orgasm overtook her. Spike stopped his struggle with Angel for a moment to watch her shudder and buck in the wake of her pleasure.

Angel favored him with a smirk as he batted the younger vampire away easily. Spike flew into one of the dining room chairs that had been pushed up against the wall. "You like that, Spike? Isn't she absolutely amazing when she comes? So very beautiful," he purred, reaching a hand up to stroke Buffy's sweaty hair.

"The dining room table? Come on, Angelus, where are your standards? You were always one for the soft beds and kinky satin sheets. You reducing her to your whore?" Spike asked, giving up the noble act for the moment (yes, *noble*, he WAS trying to save their collective hero asses from his evil bastard of a grandsire) and intent on getting as many digs in as possible.

"What's the matter, Spike, jealous?" Angel taunted as he bent Buffy backwards, lowering her onto the table, and quickly followed her down. They were lying on the table now, Buffy's trim legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her feet crossed and positioned perfectly in the small of his back. Their flesh pressed together as he thrust into her, slowly building up the pace once more while Angel skimmed the smooth column of her throat with his lips. The Slayer lay limp and still beneath him, a dreamy look settling on her beautiful features, her cheek pressed flat against the table with her face facing away from Spike.

"Jealous," Spike snorting, spitting the word out like it was bad blood. "Not bloody likely. I don't know about you, Peaches, but I've never fantasized about you bending me over and giving it to me good. And even if I had -- which I haven't! -- you wouldn't have noticed. Your prick of a demon was always all talk and no butt-fuck, and we all know that *you've* always been too busy chasing after pussy to be interested. Your little Slayer there is evidence enough of that. No reason that should change now."

"You sound like you're upset about that," Angel smirked. "And I didn't mean you were jealous of Buffy, Spike, I meant you were jealous of *me* because you've been trying to get where I am right now for months."

Spike sputtered, caught off guard. It was a good thing vampires couldn't blush. Buffy pulled Angel's head back down to hers, nibbling at his lips as she said, "Can we stop talking to Chip Boy and get back to the fucking? The Slayer is getting bored with the pissing contest." She wiggled her hips against him in emphasis.

"Looks like you're losing your touch, Peaches," Spike said smugly, feeling anything but. Angel replied by pulling out, giving Spike a view of his cock glistening with their combined juices, before slamming back into her again. A high-pitched squeal escaped Buffy's half-parted lips at the movement, and Spike rolled his eyes. Show off.

Heavy breathing soon filled the room, mingling in with the wet sound of flesh on flesh and bodies melding to create a sweet symphony as the two made passionate love on the Summers' antique table. Angel bent his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, and Buffy arched up against him, her tiny pink tongue darting out to lick at the sweat that pooled on her upper lip as she whimpered.

Spike soon realized that the two of them were completely ignoring him -- they'd probably forgotten all about him. There they were before him, sweaty masses of quivering, well-sexed flesh, grinding and thrusting and pumping together. The sickening thing was the way they were pressed together like they were worried hell itself was going to try and rip them apart. Like anyone would be stupid enough to try and keep the big poof from getting off. Okay, so he had been, but desperate times call for stupid measures.

When the thrusting sped, and the veins in Angel's neck became *very* prominent, Spike knew they were headed for certain doom.

"Uhh, you two want to stop with the horny bit now?" No response. "Hey! That's enough!"

Buffy and Angel ignored him as their lips met passionately, their lower bodies churning together. He thrust into her easily, hard cock rubbing against swollen tissue over and over again as his large body blanketed hers, trapping her in place. They appeared to be trying to shove their tongues down each other's throats while they kissed, and Buffy scraped her nails down his back. Blood welled shallowly in the cuts on his back, and the smell drove Angel into her harder and faster. Her moans quickly turned into screeches as she tipped over the edge, baring her throat to Angel as she came. With a roar, his face changed and he swooped down, his fangs sliding effortlessly into her warm flesh.

Spike was, for once, speechless as he watched Angel greedily gulp down the Slayer's hot blood. She was letting him DRINK from her, allowing him to gulp her blood as though it was the finest wine, exchanging it for the seed he pumped into her in short spurts. The spicy scent permeated the air and Spike growled in spite of the situation, longing for the chance to taste her. Maybe if he staked the big poof and took his place, she wouldn't notice...

When she screamed, he knew she got off from it as much as she did from boffing the big stupid ponce. What he wasn't expecting was for her to bite Angel back, and when she did he lost it.

"Oh, well this is bloody perfect! You two just get yourselves off and make with the bloodplay and don't worry about the psycho getting out again. I know you're both pretty damn dense, but there shouldn't be a need for me to remind you about what happens." They were too busy trying to swallow each other's tonsils to notice. "And why the bloody hell did you have to pick him when you can have me, Slayer? He's all tall dark and huge-foreheaded, and I..." His voice cracked. "I'm the one that loves you."

Angel snorted, his nose buried in Buffy's hair. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, pulling him close. Bringing his hand up, Angel fingered the silky strands of her hair while licking the wounds on her throat closed.

"But having a chip isn't good enough for you, a vampire needs to have a bleedin' soul before you'll even give him the bloody time of night!" he went on, slumping down in his seat as he watched the two of them slip easily into post-coital bliss. "And I come here to make nice, only to find the two of you going at it like you're makin' a porno, not carin' that in your quest for some sweaty, fleshy fun you're putting the whole fucking WORLD in danger -- of which I am a part, and don't appreciate."

They ignored him as Angel pulled back, gathering Buffy up in his arms and spinning the two of them around, gracefully sitting where she had been moments before. Buffy was strewn limblessly across his lap, unable to move.

"But why him, Slayer? I thought that we were making progress, at least you can sorta stand me now. And then the big poof has to come and ruin everything. Thanks a lot, mate. I can't even enjoy naked Buffy because you're naked too and no offense, Peaches, but ya just don't do it for me."

"I missed you," Buffy whispered against Angel's lips, easily tuning Spike and his mindless chatter out. Angel gave her a little nibble for her trouble. "Whatever happened to the whole 'screw being apart, I need you' mentality?"

"It's still firmly in place," Angel assured her. "It's just hard to get away. Cordy and Wes will start to meddle."

Buffy made a show of sighing as she wrapped her legs around his waist to hold herself firmly on his lap. "Since where were they made producers of the Buffy and Angel Show? They don't get to meddle. You and I are the only ones with the power to meddle."

"You want to tell them that?"

"If they keep you away from me I will," Buffy said. "I did die, you know. I deserve some special treatment."

"...it's the chip, I know. Dru hates it, you hate it...Big Bad Spike ain't so bad anymore. He's gone all soft and mushy inside, and even sat there and watched the Slayer and her pet vampire going at it without any of his hilariously funny insults."

"I think you get enough special treatment as is," Angel teased, rubbing his cheek against hers.

Buffy turned her head to press a featherlight kiss to his nose. "But honey, it's been almost two months. We've already been caught by Spike, you know he's going to go blab to the gang. And then we'll have to explain about the curse and what I was doing in L.A. in the first place and just happened to show up at the Hyperion and how we've managed to keep it a secret for this long and--"

"Shh," Angel admonished playfully, capturing her lips with his. "How about we go upstairs and I give you some of that 'special treatment' you claim you're so deprived of?"

"I'm not about to pass up a night of hot sex with the legendary vampire with a soul," she said, her eyes twinkling. "I'd be the talk of the town if I was allowed to tell anyone." Angel smiled as he stood, setting her on her feet for a moment before sweeping her off them again, tossing her over his shoulder. "Very funny, Cave-Vamp." He began to walk, and Buffy whistled at the view. "Never mind, I'm not going to complain anymore. Not when I have a view like this."

"Hey, where are you going?!" Spike demanded, realizing they were abandoning him for places unknown -- or not so unknown, since he figured they were heading for her bedroom. "I'm damn well pouring my heart out to you, you can't just leave!" They continued on their way up the stairs, and Spike leaned over to yell at them. "I've been emotionally scarred, here! You owe me!"

The bedroom door slammed shut, and he heard Buffy shriek. Slumping back down, Spike's expression turned thoughtful for a moment before he grumbled, "Why did Glory have to destroy my robot? Would've been so easy to program that little move in. Stupid hellbitch."

The End

<< back