As Buffy came awake, a myriad of physical sensations washed over her: she was laying on her side and that side was both cold and sore; yet her back was hot; her legs were trembling; sweat was beading on her brow...

...and a hard cock was thrusting rapidly inside her from behind.

Flushing, shocked, embarrassed, confused, all she could do was moan as her inner muscles clenched.

A hand found her breast, squeezing the sensitive flesh, and she looked down, dazed, at pale, slender fingers with black nails. A mouth fastened onto her shoulder, blunt teeth scraping her sweat-slicked skin. A masculine grunt sounded in her ear and the pace of the thrusts increased.

Buffy moaned again, her mind pushing aside the confusion for the pleasure and heat of sex. The hand at her breast slid down her body and into the curls between her legs, those slender fingers finding her clit and rubbing until she bucked and whimpered incoherently.

The build up to orgasm had been slow--she had been nearly fully aroused when she had awakened and it had continued to grow in the past several minutes--but the finale came swiftly, leaving her breathless, her entire body shaking, as the man who held her, clutched her hip and slammed into her. With a deep growl, he came, and slumped against her back, his arm tight around her waist.

As she relaxed, warm pleasure flowing through her, Buffy's brain started functioning again, and the first thought that made any sense--as she felt his semen slip from her along with his softened cock--was the apparent total lack of birth control. Panic filled her and she tried to pull away, her whole body flushing now with embarrassment and worry.

The man held her tightly, too tightly, and at that realization, she began to sense other things. He was cool to the touch. The only sweat was her own.

He had no heartbeat.

Yelling, she kicked back at the same time she flung her head backwards, smashing into his face. He yowled, releasing her, and she scrambled to her feet, her hands fisted.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Spike spat, rising to his knees and gingerly touching his nose to see if it was broken.

"SPIKE?"

"Oh, now you recognize me?" Amusement turned quickly to horror. She recognized him! "Oh shit!" He jumped to his feet and backpedaled rapidly.

Horribly embarrassed and totally confused, Buffy spotted her nightgown and grabbed it, pulling it over her head. Unable to look at him, she retreated, hoping he'd get the picture and get dressed.

What had happened? Her head was all...fuzzy, and her memories basically nonexistent.

How on Earth had she ended up--she looked around herself and wrinkled her nose at the smell--in the sewers with Spike? Having sex with Spike? She shifted uncomfortably at the soreness of strained leg muscles and other things, and made a slight face. Apparently having lots of sex with Spike...

A spell...

"It had to be a spell," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around her chilled body.

"Sounds good to me."

Buffy glanced up through her lashes and saw him dressed and tugging on his boots. He was watching her warily.

"So, who did it?" she blustered. "Which of your demonic buddies thought it would be fun to put a lust spell on us?"

"*I* wasn't under a spell." Then he cursed fluidly as he realized what that meant.

Buffy reddened and her mouth fell open.

"Doesn't mean anything," he muttered. "Vampires'll shag anything, especially little blondes with nice tits who jump us while we're just minding our own business."

"I never...I wouldn't...I..." She frowned in confusion as she desperately tried to remember anything.

Spike smirked at her. "Oh, you did, luv. You certainly did."

"Pig."

He chuckled and pulled on his duster. "It's been fun, slayer, but I have places to go, people to shred." He turned to leave, but couldn't help but glance back at her. She stood on the far side of the room, hugging herself in a silken bit of nothing, her eyes huge, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "Fuck," he mumbled, and stalked over to her. She automatically backed up. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Buffy gave him a look of total disbelief.

"I could have killed you anytime, sweetheart. We've been shagging on and off for nearly twenty hours, and you kept dozing off from being worn out." He grinned wolfishly and reached out to grab her arm. She batted his hand away, her body assuming a defensive posture. Sighing, he slipped out of his duster and handed it to her.

"Who are you?" she asked sarcastically, as she hesitantly took the coat and put it on.

Spike scowled and stalked back to the door. "You let the hem drag in the sewers and I *will* kill you. Are you coming?"

Shaking her head in bafflement, Buffy followed him out of the room and into the dank and smelly sewers. He guided them unerringly to an exit behind her dorm. Buffy scrambled up the ladder first, giving Spike a glimpse of the dark curls between her legs. His cock stirred and he silently cursed it.

Pulling herself out of the sewers and into the parking lot of her dorm, Buffy glanced quickly around and sighed in relief at seeing no one. It appeared to be sometime in the evening. Lots of lights were on in the dorm and she could hear the muffled sounds of televisions and stereos.

Spike grabbed her arm and propelled her towards the back entrance of the building. "Let's try not to be seen, shall we?"

"I can make it home all by myself," she snapped back.

"Fine, I'll just take my duster and leave." He started to pull it from her shoulders, and Buffy blushed and clutched the leather tighter to her. She'd never live it down if she was caught by anyone wearing only the torn and dirty silk nightie.

"Okay," she conceded with a scowl. "You can escort me, but no touching, buster."

"Like I'd want to touch you now that you're back in your right mind."

They glared at each other for a moment, then stomped into the building.

Buffy ignored everyone she passed, her whole mind and body focused on reaching the safety of her room. She was surprised to find it dark and empty, but then realized that Willow was probably out looking for her. Entering the room, she moved partly behind the door and slid out of the coat, then shoved it through the opening.

"Go away."

Spike caught the duster and his eyes narrowed in anger. "Bitch. I think I prefer the caveslayer."

Caveslayer? Buffy pushed the door open farther so that she could peer around it. "Huh?"

"You really don't remember anything?" She shook her head, and he continued. "You were...well, kind of acting all primitive and such. You didn't recognize me. You were just very horny." He smirked at the return of the blush on her dirty cheeks. "And, I am after all, just a guy. Couldn't resist it when you grabbed my cock and gave it a squeeze."

"Be quiet," she hissed, then grabbed his arm and tugged him forward as she said, "Get in here."

"Well now, that was stupid of you, luv," he chuckled, as she slammed the door behind him.

"Look around, moron. There are weapons everywhere," she replied dismissively. "So, it wasn't just a lust spell?"

Spike shrugged, looking around her room, his eyes lighting on the Dingos poster. "No Back Street Boys? No N'Sync? No Hansen?" His lips twitched into a smirk.

"Please, give me some credit. Can we stay on topic, please?" she asked, exasperation creeping into her voice.

"Must say, I like the kinky hair."

Eyes wide, Buffy spun to look in the mirror and shrieked. Not only was her hair all crimped, it was dirty and hadn't seen a brush in what had to be years. Grabbing a brush off her dresser, she attacked the tangles. "This is so not happening," she muttered. "Why me? What have I done? All I wanted was to have a bit of fun with some nice guys and...guys...and..." She stopped brushing and stared at her confused reflection. The last thing she remembered clearly was that she'd been at the pub for the second night, drinking with that group of guys.

Everything from that day was fuzzy--as if her brain had only been half working. She vaguely recalled going to Psych class and...stealing someone's sandwich?

"What day is it?"

"Huh?" Spike turned from examining the books on Willow's shelves. "Um, must be Thursday night. I found you just around eleven thirty Wednesday night."

"Okay, good," she mumbled, working it out. "I remember some of yesterday, but nothing really clearly after Tuesday night."

"So, you piss off the witch?" he asked, gesturing to the spell books.

"No...Um, I don't think so. I don't remember anything from last night after going to the pub and...beer."

"Aren't you underage?"

Buffy gave him a look and continued brushing her hair.

"Is that supposed to help your brain work, because all it's doing is taking out all the curl."

She snarled and tossed the brush aside. "I can't believe I...did that with you."

Spike smirked and lounged on her bed, leaning back against the headboard, hands behind his head, dirty boots on the spread. "Oh, you did, luv, again and again. You were quite the insatiable minx. Been storing it up since that sod dumped you, eh?"

"Get out."

"Nope. I like it here." He grinned at her frustrated snarls.

"Wait...so...does that mean I hadn't...with anyone else, last night?" she asked delicately, flushing again.

Spike was fascinated by the pink spreading down her chest to the curves of her breasts just visible above the silk. Seeing where his eyes were fastened, Buffy snatched up a robe and wrapped it around herself. Spike mentally shook himself and focused on her question. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I was the one and only last night, slayer. Unless you had brain enough to douche and take a shower in between." The tone of voice clearly implied that he didn't believe that she had enough of a brain to do either, let alone both.

"Good, good, I didn't...with those guys." Buffy felt relieved but also still weirded out. Something had taken control over her body and made her want...Spike?

"There was some confusion over you wanting a baby," Spike added, trying to be helpful. The pink turned to bright red, and he smirked again. "Yep, you asked me if we'd made a brat."

"Oh God, can this get more humiliating?"

"Well, we could have had an audience, which, since we did it the first two times in the bushes, was quite possible."

"Thank you for the useful information," she choked out. "Thank you for not killing me. Please leave." She pointed to the door.

Spike appeared to think about it for a few minutes, then shook his head. "Nah, I'm kind of wondering what it'll be like doing it on this nice, soft bed, and you with a brain. Though, that does tend to get in the way."

"Are you insane? Mortal enemies, remember? You tried to kill me the last time we met."

"You slayer, me vampire. Kind of the gig, luv. But...who would have thought you could be so irresistible." His smirk faded into a smile, and his eyes ran hotly over her body. "It's a shame you don't remember how fucking good we were, slayer."

"Stop it. Go away," she demanded. "I'm filthy and just...ick...and I want to shower for about three hours and forget this ever happened, which, I'm *glad* I don't remember except for that little bit at the end."

"Oh come on. Vamps are better, right? I mean, you've had both us and them, vampires and humans, and which is better?"

"I like my men warm and with heartbeats," she protested.

"Sure you do," he replied, not believing her one bit. He rose to his feet and dumped his duster on the other bed, then pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

"Getting comfortable. Why don't you do the same?" He sat down on the end of the bed and began to remove his boots.

"You're nuts, you know that?"

He flashed her a wicked grin. "Got a great big pair of them. You had them in your mouth sometime around midday, licking and sucking them like they were candy."

Buffy made a frustrated, shocked sound, and grabbed for a stake. Spike intercepted her, yanking her into his arms, his voice totally serious now. "We're fucking great together, luv. I want you. You want me. I don't care that you're my mortal enemy, that we've tried to kill each other on numerous occasions. All I care about is that my cock is about to burst through my zipper just at the thought of being locked in your cunt."

As he spoke, he slid one hand down her back and cupped her ass, bringing her against him. Her eyes widened as she felt his erection press against her stomach, and even more as something twinged deep inside her and her clit began to tingle.

"You're...you're disgusting," she stammered, then swallowed hard at the look he gave her.

"Let's be disgusting together," he murmured, then swept her into his arms. As he deposited her on the bed, she somehow lost the robe, and her nightgown rode up, revealing her trembling thighs and damp curls. Grinning, Spike shed his jeans and knelt on the bed, swinging one leg over her so that he straddled her knees.

Buffy's eyes widened at the size of his cock--she'd studiously avoided looking at it back in the sewers, and he hadn't been erect then. Seeing where her rather glazed eyes were focused, Spike cupped his balls, massaging them and making his cock bob against his stomach, then asked her in a smug voice, "Like that, do you?"

"Why does it look funny?"

Instinctively Spike looked down at himself. Had fucking the slayer turned it green or something? Nope, perfectly normal. "Looks fine to me," he replied, giving her a puzzled look.

Pointing and blushing, Buffy stammered something about the head.

"That's a foreskin, you silly twit." He rolled his eyes.

Buffy took the offensive. "You call me a twit and you expect me to have sex with you?"

Bending over her, Spike ran his tongue across one cheek, then captured her lips in a brief, hard kiss, which left her gasping for air. "I know they circumcise most male brats these days, but Angel isn't."

She blushed again, feeling the heat creep over her body and up her cheeks. "It was dark." Spike laughed and she glared at him. "I've never really seen one up close and personal and...did I really, um, you know...use my mouth?"

"I was your first blowjob?" he crowed, making her groan. "Slayer, just how many guys have you fucked?"

She gave him a cross look. "You make three."

"The poof, the idiot, and me?" He grinned wider, then kissed her again, driving his tongue between her lips to tangle with hers. When he pulled back, her hands were around his neck and her legs around his hips, her hips bucking frantically on the mattress.

"Where'd you learn to do that thing with your tongue?" she gasped, her whole body throbbing with sudden desire.

"Same place I learned this," he murmured before lowering himself between her legs and placing a soft kiss on her mound. As he wormed two fingers into her wet, pulsating opening, his tongue flicked out over her swollen clit. Buffy yelped and pressed her knees to his ears as he licked and sucked and nibbled, his touches light, then hard, slow, then fast.

Finally, she dragged a pillow over her face and screamed into it as her hips slammed against his face and her orgasm shuddered through her. Before she could begin to come down, Spike was plucking the pillow from her numb fingers and driving his cock to her core.

"OH FUCK," she moaned, her eyes wide and unseeing as he pounded her into the mattress. Her inner muscles clamped around his cock, and her legs locked around his hips as she moved with him, writhed beneath him. Angling his body, he rubbed her clit with each stroke, and watched the pleasure flow across her expressive face.

Buffy's hands caught his shoulders, her fingers kneading in desperation, as her head began to thrash on the pillow. The tension inside her began to grow again, more intense this time, and she began to pant for air.

Just as she was about to reach her peak, Spike slowed down. Lowering his head, he gently kissed her panting lips. He stroked his cock into her in slow, deep thrusts, filling and stretching her, then pulling nearly completely out, and sliding in again.

Desperately, Buffy clutched him to her, kissing him passionately, and whimpering, "Please, please, please," over and over again against his lips. Her legs shook and her stomach clenched as her orgasm continued to build. Her eyes turned wild, and her fingernails bit into his neck.

Spike felt a tremor of lust rush through him, and lifted his head, gritting his teeth. His balls tightened, his cock throbbed, but he held off, wanting her to come first. Raising up to his knees, he grabbed her legs and pushed them towards her shoulders. Her inner muscles clenched and tightened as he rolled her hips higher, and Buffy slapped her hands down on the mattress, her need blatant in the flush of her skin, the trembling of her body.

Taking a deep, unnecessary breath, Spike pulled his cock nearly out of her, then slammed it back in, once, twice, thrice.

Buffy's mouth fell open, but all that came out was a gasped whimper as her orgasm crashed over her, sending her into uncontrollable spasms of ecstasy. With a deep growl, Spike joined her, thrusting wildly as his semen spurted into her hot depths.

Exhausted, he sank over her, his head finding the pillow next to hers. Buffy fell limp, gasping and trembling, a weak smile on her face. Her eyes closed, and she vaguely felt Spike shift off her before she drifted to sleep.

Spike knew he needed to leave, but his body was too relaxed. Closing his eyes, he silently promised himself it would be only for a few minutes. He felt Buffy curl against him, and smiled at the irony.

Then, fell into a deep sleep.