He grinned lecherously. "Oh, I'll NEVER forget the kitchen counter," he said, lifting his eyebrows in a highly suggestive manner that turned Buffy's cheeks pink. "It'll be one of our shining moments."

 

"One of them?"

 

"Uh-huh. In point of fact," he went on, kissing the warm skin of her collarbone, "I was thinking about making another...very special...memory."

 

Buffy pulled back and looked at him suspiciously. "Explain."

 

Devlin jerked his head to one side. "See that bike over there?  Well, I was thinking...."

 

"You know what?" Buffy interrupted. "You've gotta quit calling that thing a bike.  I ride a bike. It has two pedals and one gear, and a little basket on the front, and the brakes....."

 

"The brakes are what?" he asked sharply.

 

"The brakes are fine."  She leaned back in his embrace and caught his "how dumb do you think I AM?" look. "They will be fine," she amended. "I'll get them fixed."

 

"Thank you," he said politely. "Please do it BEFORE you take another ride down Suicide Hill."

 

"Sunset Avenue," Buffy corrected. "And I was only nine years old when that happened."

 

"I know, but you said...."

 

"And it wasn't even the same bike!"

 

He had to kiss her to stop her talking.  "That's better," he said, when he'd subdued her into passivity. "Now, about the bike...the MOTORCYCLE...I was having this little fantasy earlier. When we were driving out here...you had your arms around me...and I kept imagining one of your pretty little hands slipping down into my..."

 

"It's the new look isn't it?" Buffy interrupted, hoping to steer him away from the subject of motorcycle sex. "Now, you think I'm easy."

 

With a sigh that started somewhere in the soles of his feet, Devlin looked her square in the eye. "Miss Buffy...if there ever was a word that couldn't be applied to you, the word would be easy."

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

While waiting for it to get completely dark, Devlin ordered hamburgers and the greasiest french fries Buffy had ever tasted.

 

She watched him douse his food liberally in salt and ketchup, then dump seven packets of sugar...SEVEN of them!....into a paper cup of iced

tea.  

 

He took a long swallow and grinned at her. "Putting ice in tea is one of the best ideas you yanks have ever come up with."

 

"Nice to know we're good for something besides kicking England's ass in a war," she came back smartly.

 

Spike laughed. "Well, someone's saucy tonight."  He looked up at her as she was licking a smear of ketchup off one finger, and his voice changed dramatically. "You ready to go, love?"

 

"Yeah, I guess..."  She glanced up and caught the look on his face. "...so." 

 

"Good," he nodded. "Because if I can't be somewhere alone with you real damn quick...I'll have to drop this ice in my lap."

 

 

 

 

The kids running the drive in placed their 'Closed' sign in the window and piled into a black Ford pick-up truck that had probably been new right around the time that disco died.

 

When he was certain that everyone in the area had departed, Spike wheeled his motorcycle under the lower

branches of a Monterey Pine. The moon was fat and bright, and the ambiance couldn't have been more romantic if he'd planned it that way.

 

Buffy watched as he flicked a couple of switches on the control panel, and was surprised when music began to play.  "Motorcycles have radios?"

 

"Some do."

 

"How in the world can you hear the music?"

 

He grinned at her. "I turn it up real loud."

 

He wasn't turning it up loud now.  It was at a perfect level for them to enjoy, without being obnoxious or

frightening the local wildlife into a stampede.

 

When a new song started, Buffy's attention perked up. "Hey, he sounds familiar."

 

Devlin reached for her hand and tugged her up off the bench. "He should. He's the guy who's been panting and moaning in your ear for the last couple of days."

 

She giggled, fanning herself with her hand. "Gee...I'm dating a radio star. The other girls will be so jealous."

 

He placed her right hand on his left shoulder, then  slipped his right arm around her waist. "My mother made me take dancing lessons when I was thirteen. Let's see if I can remember anything."

 

Taking her hand, he waltzed her around the moonlit clearing, singing along with his voice on the radio...

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I haven't heard this one before. Is it new?" Buffy asked, trying not to watch her feet, while counting silently to herself.

 

"Nope. One of our first," he replied. Releasing her from his arm around her waist, he kept a hold of her hand and spun her underneath his raised arm, three times.

 

Butterflies danced in her tummy, making her laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"It actually didn't do very well when if was first released," he said, reclaiming her in his arms and continuing to dance with her. "Then when 'Heart  Racer' hit big and went platinum, a lot of stations

started giving it air time."

 

Buffy was surprised. "Why didn't it do well?" 

 

"Because it's not very good," he admitted. "But anytime a band goes to the top of the charts, they start to resurrect every piece of drek they can lay their hands on."

 

 

 

 

 

 

This was probably the single most romantic moment in her life so far. It had to be every girl's dream...an

amazingly handsome and wildly sexy rock and roll star was singing a love song in her ear, and dancing

with her under a full moon and a sky full of stars..old fashioned style dancing, too!   Not the sort of thing

where the participants danced three feet away from each other and never touched.

 

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

The song ended, and Devlin slipped both arms  around her waist,  walking her backwards towards the  parked motorcycle until Buffy felt the seat pressing  against the back of her upper thighs.

 

Then, with one finger under her chin, he tilted her head up and looked down at her very  seriously.

 

"I love you."

 

His voice was soft, but his words were firm and free of any hesitation or doubt.

 

Talk about having your breath taken away! 

 

He had hinted at it, joked about it, and flirted around the edges of it...but this was the first time

the actual three words had been uttered.

 

It thrilled her. It terrified her.

 

Her knees threatened to give out, and she had to grab hold of his arms to keep herself from melting into a shivery puddle.

 

"You're making me nervous, love," he said, his brows drawing together. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

 

Yes. She knew that "I love you" generally required a like response. But these were words she had never spoken to a man before. This was a huge, gigantic leap into unknown waters for her, and she wasn't wearing a life jacket.

 

After waiting for her to speak, Spike took a deep  breath and stepped back. "This isn't going the way I hoped it would," he said, staring at his feet. "First  time I tell a girl that I love her, and I'm bollixing it  up but good."

 

First time?

 

Buffy felt her heart jump in her chest. "The...the first time?" she asked, her voice shaky. "You've never...I mean...never?"

 

Devlin shrugged. "Never," he confirmed. "I'm not saying I haven't had...relationships...before. But I never fell in love...until I saw you."

 

Everything that made life sweet, that gave it color and magic, was shining from his eyes. This was just as new to him as it was to her, and she was awed by the courage he had to open his heart so completely. 

 

Now, it was time for her to step away from the cautious and carefully controlled patterns woven into the tapestry she'd been constructing for her life. Love wasn't meant to be that way.

 

Fear had no place in a loving heart, and life couldn't be predicted or guaranteed. All it could be...was lived. 

 

A wave of giddy happiness suddenly swept through her, warming her from the inside out.  All her mother's warnings were forgotten.  She would no longer worry about some distant future that might never come to pass.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

He was taking her silent reverie the wrong way, seeing it as a clear sign that she did not return his affections.

 

Humiliation burned inside of him, and he could have kicked his own ass for speaking too soon. With slightly

reddened cheeks, he tried to salvage as much of his dignity as he could by laughing it off.

 

"You know, I haven't been this embarrassed since I tripped over a microphone cord and fell into the 

drum kit," he said lightly. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to just forget I said anything?"

 

Buffy answered him by launching herself at him. She twined her arms around his neck, tugging until he lowered his head. "I love you, too," she said, sudden shyness making her voice almost inaudible.

 

"Pardon me?" he asked, leaning a little closer.

 

She raised her volume a notch. "I love you, too."

 

The frown on his face slowly began to fade, and an uncertain smile tugged at the corners of his

mouth.  "You do?"

 

"I really do."

 

His smile widened. "Well, that's a relief.  I was getting ready for you to scamper off into the woods."

 

Buffy shook her head. "Not me," she replied, returning his smile. "Goodness only knows WHAT'S out there."

 

Spike slipped his hands under her arms, sitting her sidesaddle on the seat of his motorcycle. "So, we're

exclusive?" he asked, sliding his hands under her skirt and stroking the tops of her thighs.

 

His touch was distracting her. "Mm-hmm."

 

He parted her legs and stepped between them. "I want to be your boyfriend, Buffy," he said. "Officially."

 

"Okay." She sighed as his fingers crept further up, sliding her underpants down and off.

 

"With all the rights...and privileges...the position entails."

 

One hand lifted her left thigh, maneuvering her into straddling the seat of the bike.  "They're yours."

 

He climbed on behind her and scooted her forward. "There's no going back," he warned.

 

Pressing his front to her back, he reached around and started unbuttoning her blouse.

 

Glancing down at his hands, she realized his intent and turned bright red.  "What are you doing?"

 

He bent down to whisper in her ear. "Making it official."

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

To Buffy's own everlasting surprise, she didn't protest when Spike unfastened  her blouse and bra. His hands felt too good on her skin, and she wasn't about to  complain, even if she was outside where anybody and his brother could see her.

 

When his hands skimmed up her sides and slipped around to cover her breasts, she leaned her back  against his shoulder, nearly purring with the pleasurable sensation.

 

Spike squeezed and molded her flesh, lightly flicking his fingers across her nipples. "Nothing prim and proper about you, Miss Buffy," he murmured into the curve of her neck.

 

Nope. She'd left prim and proper behind about three miles back.

 

But, when he urged her to lift up so that he could undress her, she had to say something.

 

"Spike...no," she whispered, reaching back to stroke the side of his face and take the edge off her

words. "I just...I can't...not out here."

 

He had angled the bike so that if anyone should drive by and glance this way, all they would see was his 

back. However, he didn't want to break the mood and since she seemed so willing to go through with what he wanted, he was agreeable to her request.

 

Totally naked could happen later, back when they  had plenty of time and a nice, comfortable bed to  play in.

 

"All right," he conceded, nibbling the soft skin below her ear. "But if I can't have you naked, you're gonna have to do something else to really get me going."

 

"Something else?"

 

She sounded alarmed, and he laughed. "Don't get all worked up, luv. It's nothing completely depraved...not yet, anyway."

 

That wasn't much help, but she decided not to press the point and just waited for him to tell her what he

wanted.

 

"Talk to me," he said into her ear. "Make me hard."

 

Talking was something she could do.  She could talk all day, if the subject was right. "About what?" she asked,  knowing perfectly well what topic he was interested in, and hoping she could pull it off.

 

"About the ongoing problem of global warming," he said, reaching under her skirt again. "And how we can contribute to it...right here." 

 

He placed his hands on her inner thighs and began  moving them up.  The light touch gave her goosebumps. "Well," she said, matter-of-factly, "I guess we could  expend a little energy."

 

"Tell me how," he urged, sending an exploring finger into the curls between her legs.

 

Buffy felt a rush of moisture dampening the seat she was perched on. "Ex...exercise," she gasped.

 

Devlin removed one hand and reached down to unzip his fly. "Sounds like fun," he said, extracting his erection from the tight blue denim. "Will you bend over and touch your toes?"

 

"I...what?  On this?"

 

He laughed and pressed his hips against her. "God,  you're adorable," he said. "And you've made me very  hard, just talking about exercise. Imagine what you could do if you really got down and dirty."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

For some reason, Buffy felt challenged. Rising to it, she turned her head until she could watch the expression on his face. "You mean if I asked you to put your hands on my b...my tits?"  Her face turned bright red, but she managed to say the word, one that had never passed her lips before in her life.

 

He caught his breath sharply, a bit shocked at what she had said. "God...Buffy," he muttered, pushing up her skirt and grinding his rigid cock against her soft bottom.

 

She faced forward again, feeling pretty proud of herself. Wrapping her fingers around the hand grips, she leaned forward. "Suppose I told you...that I want you to touch me here," she asked, lifting her rear. "That I want to feel your fingers on me...making me...making me wet. What would you do?"

 

Shaking his head in disbelief, he shrugged. "I would do it," he informed her, stroking her moist sex. "You know I'm your slave, baby."

 

"Oh, that's nice," she whispered, rocking against his hand. "More, please."

 

"More what?"

 

"More of...what you're doing."

 

Sliding one arm around her waist, he deftly inserted his finger inside her, sending it all the way in. "More of that?" he asked, beginning to pump it in and out of her. "Do you like it?"

 

Buffy's head fell back against his chest. "Uh-huh," she  said on a soft whimper of breath.

 

Spike wasn't going to be able to last much longer. He wanted more than his finger inside of her.

 

"Buffy," he said, leaning forward, "reach up and grab that branch."

 

One of the lower limbs of the tree was situated at just the right height for what he had in mind.

 

She looked up when he peeled her hands off the handlebars of the motorcycle and raised her arms in the air. Grabbing the branch as requested, she held on tightly.

 

"Pull yourself up a little," he instructed. He put one hand on her waist, and used the other to position himself. "Now, baby...slide down...ahhh...slowly, luv....oh, yeah."

 

With both hands on her waist now, he guided her up and down, watching the place where his shaft disappeared and reappeared so enticingly.

 

Buffy clung to the branch, using the muscles in her arms to lift and lower herself.  He went in so deeply that his penis touched places inside of her that she'd never known existed before.

 

"God, baby...that's so good."  He hissed in air through clenched teeth. "You feel so hot...so wet..."

 

Violent spasms jerked and shuddered through him, making him lunge up harder, grinding himself into her.

 

"Fuck me," he panted, kissing and nuzzling the smooth, damp skin of her back. "Fuck yourself....on me."

 

With a herculean effort, he forced himself to remain still, letting her slide up and down, her tight sex grasping and pulling on his cock.

 

Buffy felt completion approaching. She moved faster  and harder, almost throwing herself onto his shaft, making him grunt with every impact.

 

"That's it," he groaned, cupping her breasts and fondling them roughly. "Do it...come on...you know you want it...need it...don't you, baby?  Harder...harder, goddammit!"

 

She couldn't hold on anymore.  All the strength in her body was concentrating in one place, and her arms were giving out.

 

Devlin must have sensed it, because he pulled her back down. "Lean forward and grab the handlebars again," he said, then planted his feet and shifted his own weight forward.

 

Once she had a firm hold, he began power driving into her at a meteoric pace.  Placing one hand next to hers on the right hand grip, he took her left breast into his free hand and continued squeezing it, alternating from firm to gentle pressure.

 

Ripples of pleasure widened and spread through them both

as their bodies slammed together in a primal rhythm.

 

"Baby," he said suddenly. "I'm...I can't last much longer..are you...can you...oh,  fuck...yes...Buffy...tighter...tighter!"

 

She squeezed her internal muscles down, clenching them around his cock in a vise-like hold that only got stronger

when she began to climax. "Spike," she gasped. "I'm...oh.."

 

"Do it," he encouraged her. "Come for me, Buffy.  Come hard. I'm coming....with you, baby...now... ohhhh...yeah...right...now!"

 

Using both arms, he hauled her down on him, holding her still as he ejaculated a huge amount of semen into her, his hips jerking with every spurt of fluid he gave her.

 

Nothing was hidden...and nothing was held back.

 

Passion fused their bodies together, just as surely as love bound their hearts.

 

 

Buffy was far more relaxed on the ride back to Union Jack's.  The combination of the moonlight, the warmth of the air, and the pleasant memories of their encounter under the pine tree, was making her

positively mellow.

 

Until Spike pulled the motorcycle into the back parking lot and she saw what was waiting there.

 

The truck that had been there when they'd left was long gone. In it's place was another, half again as long. It was painted a gleaming ebony, and there was a beautiful painting on the side; a deep green aura, with a pair of very recognizable blue eyes and slanting dark brows in the center of it. Beneath this work of art someone had painted the name of the band in the same emerald green.

 

Buffy knew without being told, that this was the truck that would soon be packed up with all the paraphernalia necessary for a rock and roll band to take on a nationwide tour.

 

Although she hated to even look at it, she pasted a smile on her face as Devlin pulled up next to the truck and killed the engine.

 

"Wow. Fancy," she said, trying to sound as though she absolutely loved it.

 

Spike sighed impatiently. "I told them not to do that," he said, indicating the picture. "I just wanted a plain truck...something to get us where we're going. That...thing...is gonna attract a lot of unwanted attention."

 

"Well," Buffy said consolingly, "that's what you get for having such beautiful blue eyes."

 

He examined the representation more closely. "It looks like I'm wearing make up," he complained, lowering the bike's kick stand and climbing off. Standing in front of the truck, his hands on his hips, he frowned. "This was our manager's idea," he said, shaking his head. "God only knows what he'll have on the side of the bus."

 

"The bus?" Buffy asked, standing beside him with her hands clasped in front of her."

 

"Yeah," he said absently, walking around the truck to examine the matching picture on the opposite side. "This is just for the equipment. The bus is for us to travel on. Kind of a hotel on wheels, so I'm told."

 

That particular description gave Buffy an unpleasant association.  Hotels...motels...sleeping arrangements...all the girls that would be throwing themselves at the band...

 

She couldn't stand looking at it for another second.

 

"Well...it's awfully late," she said, glancing at her watch. "I should be getting on home."

 

Devlin turned around and regarded her with a boyish smile. "Can I come, too?"

 

A rush of love washed through her, and she smiled back at him. "If you want to."

 

He laughed and rolled his eyes. "If I want to...she says." Slipping his arms around her, he walked her backwards to where her car was parked. "Yes, Miss Buffy. I want to. Besides," he added, with just a touch of self satisfaction, "I'm your boyfriend, remember?"

 

"That's right," she said, snapping her fingers. "It must have slipped my mind."

 

"Oh, really?"  He pushed her up against the driver's side door of her car, plastering his body against hers. "Well, I guess I'm just gonna have to refresh your memory then."  Ducking his head, he kissed her, long and hard. "You get started, babe. I'll be right behind you."

 

 

******************************

 

 

Spike watched the tail lights of Buffy's car disappear. Turning to go into the rear door of the club, the equipment truck caught his attention again, and a wave of dislike rose up in him.

 

There was no real reason for him to feel that way. Even though he'd voted to keep the truck without ornamentation, it wasn't half as gaudy as some he'd seen. And all that really mattered was that it was large enough to carry their gear.

 

He had seen the _expression on Buffy's face before she'd managed to cover it with a smile, and knew what had caused it. The deadline for their  leaving was now only four short days away,  and this truck was a big, fat loud reminder of that unpleasant fact.

 

Devlin sighed and headed in the back door of Union Jack's, wondering when everything had become so bloody  complicated.

 

In the space of just a few days, he'd found the girl he wanted to make a future with. She was beautiful, smart, and fantastically sexy, and although she had  been a virgin, she made love like an absolute angel.

 

Now, instead of settling in and making serious plans for their future, he had to get on a bus that would carry him hundreds of miles away from her.

 

For the first time since the whole thing had been  proposed, the tour he had looked forward to with such

excitement didn't sound at all appealing.

 

 

******************************

 

 

He was surprised to see that Andy, Oz and Xander were still inside. They were kicking back at one of

the tables, drinking beer and discussing some new arrangements of their songs.

 

"Hey!" Xander said loudly. "Boss man is back. Where's your little cutie?"

 

Devlin folded his arms across his chest and grinned.

 

"She's gone on home," he said casually. "I'm gonna join her there later."

 

"Sorry about the fucking truck," Andy said. "I told 'em to leave off the black eye liner. Said you prefer a nice soft shade of brown, but they don't fucking listen."

 

Xander giggled like a hyena. Oz said nothing, although his lip curved in a small smile.

 

"Funny," Spike said. Pulling up a chair and turning it around, he straddled the seat, then glanced at Xander, although he addressed his question to all of them. "So...what do you think of Buffy?"

 

"Nice," Oz said briefly.

 

"Oh, yeah," Andy agreed. "A fucking doll."

 

"I like her," Xander chimed in. "She's great."

 

Zeroing his gaze in on him, Spike asked, "You don't think she's a bit...prim and proper?"

 

"Buffy?" Xander glanced at him, then stared at his hands. "Why would you think that?"

 

"Well, you know," Spike said, shrugging, "her skirt is a little long...she doesn't wear a lot of make up...her hair's always pinned up."

 

Xander sighed. "Okay, what were you doing? Eavesdropping or something?"

 

"Not exactly."

 

"Look...I like her," Xander said emphatically. "I really do.  She's just not the type you usually go for, is all."

 

Spike stood up and pushed the chair away. "Don't look so nervous," he told his friend. "I'm not gonna hit you. Just be careful what you say in the future. You  never know who might overhear you."

 

He pulled his car keys out of his jacket and headed for the door. Before leaving, he turned back and smiled, looking like a highly satisfied man. 

 

"Just so you know," he said. "I don't care if she pins her hair up tight during the day...cause I'm the guy who gets to take it down at night."

 

On his way out the door, he heard Andy.

 

"You've got the biggest fucking mouth in the universe, Harris."

 

 

******************************

 

 

Buffy was sitting in front of her vanity when the doorbell rang. 

 

She'd scrubbed her face clean of all the extra make up and was now brushing her hair until it was

smooth, trying hard to keep away the gloomy  thoughts.

 

Four days to go. And she wasn't even sure how much she'd see of him during those four days. She had to work, and he surely must have last minute arrangements and plans to set in place. Plus, there'd be rehearsals and maybe even social obligations to be met.

 

Four short days.

 

And what would she do then....?