Part One

Heat. A dry, raging heat that made the air thin and skin papery. This overwhelming element filled the blackness. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Nothing wet, nothing cool. Just unrelenting heat.

A pale nude figure glimmered into the dreamscape, her fiery hair almost lost amongst the glow of oranges, reds, blacks and yellows.

The body stretched, finding the limits of how far this space would let it turn and twist, sinuously exposing the pert pink nipples and the womanhood of this female figure. As the open tempting flesh rippled and undulated in reaction to the caress of heat on skin, hands and feet reached out in four opposing directions and found themselves trapped…by nothing. Green eyes flew open as the captured limbs struggled to free themselves, to no avail. The delicately shaped chest, crowned by two perfectly small breasts with soft brown nipples, heaved in a desperate attempt to draw in air. The dryness filled the woman's lungs. A sharp, raspy intake of breath ended suddenly as this body, this fiery figure, felt a preternaturally cool finger trace its way up her inner right thigh.

The hitch in the woman's breath eased, and then her soft pants quickly speeded up, inspired by the finger tracing smaller and smaller circles on the soft, white thigh. What….the finger paused, then slid unerringly up beyond the dark red curls protecting this figure's soft folds, which in turn protected her heated depths. Without warning, the spread-eagled figure felt a warm wetness, so welcome after the desperate dryness, slide down her inner walls, seeping through to the folds of flesh outside, and around the questing digit. The woman blushed, dark deep red, trying to hide her face by turning it into the softness beneath her. But hiding wasn't allowed here. An equally chilled hand grasped her chin to turn facing up. Her warm, paper dry mouth felt a finger, no, a thumb, slide along her bottom lip before asking permission to find a sweet, wet, hot home in the soft pliant mouth.

A gasp shot out of the redhead's mouth, and a puff of air flew out around the thumb. Unbidden, and almost unwillingly, tiny white teeth bit down lightly on the digit, settling into an abandoned nibbling and sucking motion as the thumb slid in and out of the mouth. This action, so blatantly sexual, sent bolts of liquid heat careening into the woman's center. The captured body undulated, hips raising, torso twisting, hands and finger splaying outwards in silent supplication. Please, goddess, please…

A snarl ripped through the heavy silence. One large, skin warmed hand captured the rolling hips, staying their needy lunges. A second, an hour, an eternity passed. In an instant, a cool cheek glided up the woman's thigh, to rest against the edge of the tight curls at the apex of her thighs. The woman whimpered when the now soaked thumb left her mouth, trailing a wet line down her arched neck, onto the swell of her chest. The wetness of her own saliva felt like a terrible mix of heaven and hell; a relief from the horrible dryness and a cool fire ripping apart her skin. The thumb, still a bit warm from the haven of the woman's mouth, stopped briefly at the needy, hard nipples to flick, to torment. Small white teeth sliced open dark pink lips in an attempt to keep silent, to keep still under this unrelenting sensual attack. Soon, two hands grasped the woman's hips, caressing, kneading, preparing the desperate flesh, desperate for cool, desperate for wet, desperate for anything that would stop the heat.

A sharp, keening cry flew out of the woman's throat as two thumbs spread open her now sopping folds, laying her open to assault, as something cool, wet, and hungry sucked in her plump, moist clitoris. Oh goddess…the cool slick suction….oh goddess…the woman could feel the edge, just before her, waiting, waiting…a scream erupted into the darkness as two sharp fangs sank into the tender flesh above her clit…

And Willow woke up.

Part 2

A familiar touch. Not heavy and warm, but gentle and cool. Loofah in hand, Buffy traced the gentle swells of her breasts, slick with soap and water. She opened her eyes for just a moment, the loofah settling in between her breasts. She looked out into the tiny bathroom. White and more white, a glaring white, the harshness relieved only by the brilliant blue bathrug, cerulean towels resting on the opposite wall, and a steam-covered mirror, trimmed with aquamarine blue wood. The white/tan bisected chest rose up as Buffy took in a deep breath, the strong sent of vanilla and sandalwood filling her nostrils. Her blonde head, the hair darkened by steam and water and sweat, lolled against the edge of the bathtub as two sad blue eyes closed again. Taking the loofah in her other hand, Buffy slid it down to the darker silken curls at the apex of her thighs.

Before the loofah reached its intended destination, a large, oddly cool hand stopped the smaller hand's descent with a firm grip. In shock, Buffy's entire body froze for a millisecond, then attempted to use Slayer strength to buck the hand and attached arm off of her body. Two pale breasts surged out of the bubble covered water to present themselves to their attacker. Buffy couldn't budge the arm; it pressed down on her torso and both arms with a strength that seemed familiar, yet not. Something cool and heavy closed over the blonde's still-closed eyes, and the smell of leather overpowered the gentler smell of the bubbles. Now truly panicked, Buffy struggled, twisting her torso and thrashing with her legs, causing water to slosh over the sides of the tub. Her ears picked up the slap of the water against the tub's edge. In a heartbeat, a presence, without warmth, hovered by her face.

A face…a face was breathing in her scent, hard. Buffy could feel something, probably a nose, press against the edge of jaw, slipping around to nuzzle behind her left ear. This being seemed to be trying to inhale the total of Buffy's being, all that she was and could be, her smell, her taste, everything, simply by breathing. At the suddenness of this action, Buffy relaxed her hands without thinking. The man, if it was a man, took advantage and grasped Buffy's arms, lifting her out of the tub. Sheets of water and bubbles slid off of her body, over her tiny, now hard nipples, and through her lower curls to slip down her inner thighs.

Buffy felt a plush texture against her wet and goosebumped back as the presence laid her still-warm body against the large blue bathrug. Before the tiny blonde had time to get her brain back on-line, the hands had left her arms and returned with a large soft towel. The towel rubbed the tiny droplets of water off of first the arched neck, then the swell of the breasts. Two hands took either edge of the towel and made circling sweeps around the slightly rounded belly, in addition to brisk swipes of the slayer's sides. As the towel, and the hands in control, swept down over the honey-brown curls onto the strong, muscled thighs, Buffy's mind drifted. A paradoxical safety appeared in this attack. At the same time that Buffy felt a violation, she also felt protected under the strong, sure sweeps of this towel and these hands. A smaller and smaller part of her mind screamed that something was wrong, something was not right with this picture, with this reality. But all of those slight protests crumpled under the sweetness of being wanted.

The slayer's slim, sure hands relaxed against her sides as her legs were dried. Still caught in the drift of thoughts, the straddling of her legs by jean-covered thighs surprised Buffy, but not nearly as much as the earlier appearance of the cool hands. Rough denim scraped the outside of Buffy's thighs, and the hands, like steel bands, circled her wrists, bringing them up above her head. Something about the dominant quality of this position brought Buffy's hips into involuntary contact with a denim covered bulge. That slight undulation brushed her clit against the fly of the creature's jeans. Buffy gasped…the sensual contact slammed into her brain and she realized that she was wet. This person, this being, whoever or whatever he was, had turned her on with the slightest of sexual touches.

Cool lips met warm, and Buffy sighed into this mouth, meeting the thrust of his tongue with eagerness as she abandoned herself to the feelings surging through her body. Her muscled thighs raised as he brought her legs up and around the man's body to rest on his hips. Two tongues dueled for dominance as denim clad hardness thrust down against the slayer's naked sex, grinding into the soft folds of her womanhood. The kiss broke, and Buffy gasped, dragging gulps of air into her lungs. Her neck arched, and a soft mouth nibbled and licked down her soft, vulnerable throat. A slight, barely noticeable pressure of teeth on Buffy's jugular made the slight body shiver and shake. Lost in the eroticism of the bite, the slayer barely noticed, and barely cared about, the two fangs piercing her throat and drinking her powerfully warm blood…

Buffy woke screaming in orgasm and horror.

Part Three

Dreams and demons and dark magicks

In nomine patris….

Spike would never forget the first time he saw the slayer and her little redheaded friend. The flaxen haired warrior had played with that twit of a boy like he was a favorite, but soon to be forgotten, toy. Her ass rubbed against his jeans, her soft hair brushed against his chin. The poor boy must have had a hard-on to rival titanium steel. Still, Spike knew he'd have to kill the git for touching what was his.

Sure, don't get him wrong, he was pretty focused on killing Buffy at the time. But times change, demons change. Spike had gotten bloody well sick of licking up Dru's leavings. The damned chaos demon could have the stupid bitch. She'd always had too much affection for his poofy Sire anyway. In the end, after all that had happened between Angelus, Dru, Buffy and himself, Spike had ended up with little respect for his former compadres. Angelus had always been a bit too keen on torture and Dru just had too many dead canaries in the belfry. Spike had bided his time, watching as the death, the madness, and the blood that surrounded Buffy and her friends gradually made them exponentially stronger. And because Spike had plans for Red and the Slayer, he played the Big Bad but had let them be like a good little puppy.

Now, however, now was the time to strike. Nancyboy himself had taken off for points angelic, so the Slayer was all vulnerable like. Just waiting for someone to want her. And Red…she had a pleasant dark side that just screamed to come out and play. During Spike's wheelchair bound days, he'd threatened the minions into fetching him various books form the High School's 'library.' Made for fascinating reading.

Over the years, Mr. Bloody had heard of various half-cocked tales about triumvirates of power, about sex magicks, about the power mortals and vampire could hold when they became as one. Naturally, Spike didn't have a whole hell of a lot of interest at the time in becoming one with his after dinner snack. Or his dinner for that matter.

But rolling around in that soddin' piece of metal had made ol' Spikey think. The peroxide blonde had started to want real companions, in sex and love and all that life, undead and not, could offer. Then, early one evening, just after Angelus and a giggly Dru had swept out of the mansion to hunt, Spike had found the spell. It was a right complicated spell, full of nearly impossible requirements. But this being the hellmouth and all, it seemed like the impossible had become the almost easy.

The spell required a slayer who had been intimate with a vampire, a witch who had been intimate with someone of the preternatural ilk, various herbs and such, three nights of dreams by the three participants, created by one of the undead participant via sendings, and then the sharing of sex and blood between the three. As far as Spike could tell, the only really drawback in the ritual was that neither Willow nor Buffy could be turned after the ritual, and of course they both had to be human prior to the ritual. Spike thought he could live with the disappointment.

The only part of the spell that Spike couldn't quite make out said something about the "potestas" being both controlled and a controller. He understood the words "kin," "harm," "hearing," and "soul," but everything else in that passage was a bloody lot of nonsense.

Despite possible unwanted complications, Spike had wasted no time in preparing the ritual. He slowly gathered the supplies as he dreamed of painting warm white bodies with smears of blood. Unfortunately for his grand plans, Angelus and Dru had their own grand idea to suck the world into hell. Soddin' pillock and his insanity would be the end of Spike someday.

Having wasted no time assisting the Slayer in finishing off Angel, he honored his promises and loyalty to Dru by taking her to Brazil for a little spicy food and recuperation time. The loony toons Princess had run off with a chaos demon not a month into the summer, freeing Spike to return to his plans for the triumvirate ritual.

Dried virgin's blood had taken months to find, not to mention the alchemist's gold and the tooth of a virginal vampire. When Spike had first read that last ingredient for the ritual, he'd laughed so hard blood had spurted out his nose.

In the midst of his travels for the ingredients, Spike had a little bout of depression, cause by lack of said last ingredient. So, in a fit of mindless boredom and, he could admit it now, utter stupidity, he wandered back to Sunnydale. In order to calm his demon (he really really really did hate Sunnyhell), his first order of business was tequila…or was that whiskey? Or red wine? He could vaguely remember a woody taste…or maybe that was just the hippie chick he'd snacked on his first night back.

The combination of alcohol and rage/depression over the lacking last ingredient had caused Spike's emotional state to unravel. Being in Sunnyhell had made him want his Black Princess back, and had made him want to smash Angelus' head into itty bitty gooey bits. All in all, the whole thing was a blast. He got to trash a few airheaded vamps, emotionally torture Buffy and Angel, and play Smash the Xander on the Chemistry Lab Wall. And on his way out, he had received a tip from that rat Wily about the virginal vampire tooth.

Finally, just three weeks ago, Spike had everything he needed to complete the ritual. It took him two weeks to travel up from Mexico. Upon his third and hopefully final smashing of that pitiful city sign, Spike had set up ritual headquarters in an abandoned Victorian on the outskirts of town.

~~~~~

A massive circle drawn with charcoal filled the center of what must have once been a ballroom. Black and white and red candles filled the room, making the air heavy and warm. Spike's alabaster body lay spread-eagled, nude in the center of the circle, on top of a pentagram. The ritual was fairly simple.

//First, the fire would dream. Second, the warrior would dream. Then, the living dead would dream. Finally, these three who would be one would join as one. The dreams would shoot through all three like fire, ice, and lightning. The desperate need to mate would override every other need, want, or desire."//

And so the ritual began with a welcoming chant for the night gods.

"Venite, Dei Noctis, Accite!"

Then, the first sending.

"Amans Manes, Sominate!"

A dark red glow radiated from the pale skin of the caster. Spike's eyes swelled with blood-stained tears as the spell's power made his borrowed blood boil. Time for number two.

"Amans Praeteris Naturae, Sominate!"

Electric blue replaced dark red as tiny blue sparks raced over the blonde's body. The vampire's fist clenched, his head reared up in agony, and black fingernails gouged open palms as his penis rose and throbbed.

"Sum Amans, Somino!"

The last word just left Spike's lips as his body suddenly relaxed, his hands released, and his head lolled back. Only his penis remained eager, tense and hard.

Eyeballs twitched under blue-veined pale eyelids.

Spike dreamed.

Part Four - I am a demon

Spike clawed his way into the mass of blonde hair with his fingers. Grasping his lover's head, he brought it down on his eager cock. The feel of Buffy's talented tongue working it's magic on him brought a groan out of his own throat and his hips began to thrust upwards, driving his cock further down the Slayer's throat. The gurgles, along with the feel of Buffy's gag reflex, brought Spike to a quick, intense orgasm. Felt a bit like his spine was bloody well being ripped out of his body through his penis. As the orgasm eased, his pale ass lowered once again to the red silk sheets and his hands eased out of the tangled flaxen hair belonging to his bitch, his woman, his Slayer. One of them anyway.

Now that the edge was off, Spike turned his attention to the creamy body next to him. He quickly flipped his body over, straddling a reclining Willow Rosenburg. His mouth came down hard on hers, delivering a brutally punishing kiss. Thrusting his tongue inside her warm cavern, he mimicked the action by grinding his already growing erection against her dark, wine-colored curls. Cor, the heat of these bloody humans was enough to burn him up right there. Without preamble, the undead Englishman impaled Willow on his steel-hard cock.

"Spike!" Willow screamed his name and her torso rose off the bed.

The vampire growled in annoyance. He damned well should have gagged the chit while he'd had a chance.

"Bitch, give her something to do."

Spike let his cock rest in the throbbing channel for a moment. At Spike's command, Buffy moved from where she had been watching the action with half-parted lips and slid up next to Willow and Spike. The blonde Slayer took one hand, put it on the far side of her best-friend's face, and brought her mouth down to gently rest on Willow's dry lips. A tiny, wet tongue came out to moisten those lips, begging for entrance to the red-head's mouth.

When Spike began to thrust in and out of his lover's channel, Willow's mouth slid open in shock and Buffy took the opportunity to thrust her tongue into the wetness. Spike thrust, feeling the snug walls of the hacker's moist passage hug his cock, and Buffy thrust, gliding her tongue over teeth, and sucking voraciously on her friend's tongue.

"Off," Spike growled. Buffy pouted, but released the warm, and now passion-reddened lips.

Willow's legs came around Spike's hips slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force. The vampire's hips began to smash against the flushed figure beneath him, making sure to hit the girl's clit. His hands gripped hers and he could feel her begin to contract and throb insistently around his cock. As Willow gasped out her orgasm, Spike came down on her throat viciously, driving his fangs into the tender flesh of her exposed throat and drinking. The act of feeding prolonged the orgasm to the point where Willow began to whimper and vibrate under the tension.

Spike continued to slurp at the pale, sweaty neck. Next to the writhing figures, Buffy's body thrummed in time. The blonde mewled at the feelings which coursed through her. As her clit pulsed with need, her secretions ran unheeded down her thighs, and her hips pumped up and down as if it were her cunt which had a hot, hard cock stuffed up it. Finally, Spike lifted his mouth though he continued to drive into the red-head's passage. One hand roughly grabbed Buffy's head, bringing her neck under his mouth. Buffy whimpered as fangs sank into her neck, drawing out her blood. Spike snarled, his head rearing back, and he felt the change begin.

Sparks zinged through the vampire's body, bouncing around. The blood of his lovers mingled within him, and he exploded into Willow, bringing the redhead and the blonde with him. Their cries filled the air. Too soon, the three nude figures collapsed in a jumble of legs, arms, and torsos. Remembering the human needs of his companions, Spike disengaged from the limbs entangling him to lean down and grab the wine red coverlet at the bottom of the four-poster bed. He covered their bodies and then joined them in sleep….

Spike awoke, covered in a film of unnatural sweat, his body humming with borrowed blood and magic.

~~~~~

Across town, two women lay in their respective beds, their minds racing from the dreams they had just had. In a daze, both sat up and repeated to themselves, "It was just a dream, just a dream." The deep vibrations in their bodies, however, told the truth about their dreams.

After breathing deeply in simultaneous attempts to calm their thudding heartbeats, both women lay back down amongst their sweat-soaked bedding and resolved to ignore the blood racing through them, swelling their clits and hardening their nipples.

But both still felt the unbidden caress of cool hands and lips as they uneasily re-entered the realm of Morpheus.

Part 5 - A New Possession

"Yeah, I could do with some Bronzeing tonight…as long as we're not of the late. I could also do with some more sleep." Buffy Summers shivered as she thought about why she needed some more sleep. Her dreams last night had been way vivid, and not in happy good sappy ways. And unlike most of her dreams, they had lingered with her all day long, even through Biology with dissection and through training with Giles. Flashes of cool wetness, bathtubs, kissing Willow, fangs in her neck, and Spike calling her his 'Bitch' had provided her with a running video stream in the back of her head all day long.

Now though, Buffy had major plans to put the whole intense, scary, bloody, and sexy dream weirdness behind her, and concentrate on dancing, Xander, Willow, and much mourning of their collective dead and/or dying relationships. Just normal stuff with her normal friends…though Buffy was having some issues with looking at Willow's lips.

"What time? Hmmm…Xan, good question…how about 9? I'll do a quick sweep and meet you and Will there. Super, see you."

Buffy hung up the phone and falumped back on the bed, letting her eyes close. She didn't have clue how to get through the next few hours without blurting something out about her dreams, especially when she'd have 1/3 of her dream sitting right next to her. She had avoided Willow all day because every time she even thought about her lips brushing against her best friend's, the Slayer had felt an unusual warmth flood her nether regions. Will equaled friend, equaled girl, equaled someone Buffy did not have fuzzy, squishy feelings for. She reserved those for soul having inanimate hunks of walking flesh.

~~~~~

"Sure, 9, yeah, sounds good. How about I just meet you there?…No, I'm not ashamed of you, Xander my friend //whom I do not have smoochy feelings for//, I just want to meet you there, ok? Yes, I'll be careful." And with that, Willow hung up.

Great…Buffy on top of a mopey Xander. Normally, the presence of Buffy would lighten matters a bit, but after last night's dreams, Willow had a feeling her blonde best galpal would just make matters worse. A soft sigh escaped the red-head's pursed lips. Today, Buffy had seemed to run away every time Willow had come within fifty feet of her. Normally, this would have upset her, but not today. She'd been glad of the respite. Her tormented dreams last night had left her flushed and feverish all day long. Whenever Willow closed her eyes, visions of warm lips on hers and memories of cool, marble-hard cocks in her inner heat overwhelmed her. So, she tried to keep her eyes open and her mind on dead frogs, Willa Cather, and trigonometry. But it seemed like one second Xander was saying something about ice cream, and Giles was talking about the odd magickal pull of red silk, both of which did nothing for her equilibrium. As a result, poor Willow spent the entirety of the day gripping her thighs together in an effort to resist the urge to spread her legs and thrust her hips up to…what??? Who????

Spike.

Undead enemy of the Scooby Gang at large.

Granted, Willow had felt an inkling of sympathy for the vampire when he had returned demanding that she perform a love spell…not to mention a frisson of desire which had chased her terror when Spike had manhandled her. His hands, so cool, so hard and demanding, had called to something deep in her core, something that had risen to the surface in her dreams last night. The thought of Spike's role in her dreams last night made Willow shudder. His hands, his cock, his mouth had driven Willow nearly insane, even asleep. And her fuzzy, warm, extremely wet and sticky feelings for Buffy made the red-head sputter inside her head. She felt more out of control than ever before, and even meditations on the wonderfulness that was Oz didn't ease the ache inside her that revolved around thoughts of Spike and Buffy.

~~~~~

At approximately 8:30, both girls left their homes. Both initially moved towards the Bronze, but both soon felt their bodies turn, and nearly run in the other direction as their minds tried to make sense of what has happening. Something called to their flesh, to their souls, to the core of their beings. It was dark, it smelled like sweat and lust, and it was out of their control. After just a few minutes, the two young women met up, and continued their mysterious journey in silence. If they could have spoken to each other, they weren't sure they'd have known what to say.

Soon, a massive Victorian home loomed before them. They entered through the unlocked door, single-file, and proceeded up the curving staircase. Unerringly, they headed for the last door on the left that was partially open. As Buffy's hand pushed it completely open, it gave out a small moan which broke the dead silence and startled Willow from her trance. Both girls walked up to the massive four-poster bed before them, stopping at the edge. They quietly stripped as their minds screamed at them to stop, to not finish whatever insanity this was.

Spike lay sprawled out nude on the wine colored silk sheets, lazily running one finger up and down the sensitive underside of his cock. The only thing left for him to do was to chant the last bit of the spell, and let matters run their course. Look at them already, their bodies flushed and ready, even though Spike could tell their minds were screaming as their eyes rolled around wildly in their heads, belying the calm of their bodies. The vampire grinned wickedly. What fun, crikey, why hadn't he finished his preparations earlier? Just think of all the fun he had missed! Ah well, Spikey had never been prone to regrets.

"Finite, Tres! Finite, Face Nos Unus!"

The nude young women broke from their trance and crawled up the bed to join their lover.

Part 6

You come on like a drug

I just can't get enough

Four small, feminine hands swarmed over Spike's pale, muscled body. Taking up positions on either side of the vampire's body, the Slayer and her witch friend shared a look which Spike missed, a dark, mischievous, powerful look, fraught with the power that now infused their bodies. Spike, however, did not miss the way their lower bodies swung in and out towards his nude flesh, as if obeying a siren call that only they could hear. The bleached blonde could barely keep the smirk off his face. Bloody hell, this was the best fun he'd had in ages. These two scorchin' hot mortals, his to play with for eternity? And hell, if he got bored with them, he could always break their scrawny little necks, right?

Spike snarled in triumph as he grabbed Buffy's head and smashed her lips against his. She fought her tongue through his pursed lips to capture his tongue, sucking on it voraciously. She placed her hands next to his head and proceeded to attack his mouth. Cor, when this woman wanted something, she really wanted something, and she really went after it. At the moment, it felt as if Buffy were trying to suck his balls out through his throat. While the figure on top of him writhed and mewled its pleasure, Spike felt the head of his cock pop into a small mouth. He groaned deep in his chest as the wet heat coming from Willow's mouth laved the head of his cock, as if it were a popsicle.

Buffy continued to suckle at Spike's mouth as Willow lowered her burning hot snatch onto his erection. Spike's teeth sliced open Buffy's bottom lip when he felt the redhead's honeyed walls throb around his stone-hard cock. His vamp face came out as his vampiric senses caught the rich smell of the Slayer's blood, along with the juices flowing from his witch's cunt. He sucked at the blood seeping from his lover's mouth, turning his eyes to Willow, who was slowly impaling herself on his cock.

The witch had her head thrown back, the creamy column of her neck thrown back as she availed herself of the rod lodged inside her body. Ah, what a lovely sight. She rose up, and slammed herself down as her orgasm screamed through her, flooding Spike's cold member with her hot, sweet-smelling juices.

Suddenly, Spike found himself bereft of mortal flesh as Willow fell back onto the silk sheets, and Buffy left the vampire's mouth to latch her talented lips onto Willow's moist, plump sex. Willow half-screamed as she felt teeth nibble on her sore, hot clit.

"Oh, oh goddess, suck it, suck it hard, oh Buffy please, ple…!" Willow arched into the lips at her clit, and soon felt another orgasm, following fast and hard on the heels of the first. The blonde had begun to delicately lick her friends warm spendings from her inner folds when a punishing grip threw her off Willow.

The blonde vampire straddled his bitch Slayer and without preamble, rammed his aching erection into her moist depths.

"Bitch, you're bloody mine, understand? You don't fucking move unless I say, eh?" Spike punctuated his meaning by rubbing his pubic bone against her clit forcefully, eliciting a gasp from his disobedient Slayer.

"Oh, Spike, that bleach must have really done a number on your so-called brains. You really don't understand what you've done, do you? You poor, poor man." Buffy managed to gasp this out as Spike continued to pound punishingly into her hot passage. Her legs gripped his waist as Willow came up behind them.

Spike bucked backwards when he felt the little witch's tiny tongue trace wet patterns on his back, leaving behind trails of fire. Her tongue ran a fiery arrow down to the space between his ass cheeks. As Spike rammed forward, he felt Willow's appendage flex its way to his anus, hooking inside as far as she could. Then, as he withdrew from Buffy, he inadvertently stuffed her stiffened tongue into his asshole. He fell forward in shock, lodging his cock into Buffy's quim as Willow's tongue wormed its way around his depths. Unconsciously, the vampire found himself squirming back onto the wet, stiff, yet flexible piece of flesh flailing around inside his ass. He hadn't had a tongue up his ass since the great Poof had gotten all souled. Fuck, it was a bloody fucking wonderful feeling.

Buffy's heels drummed against his back, demanding movement.

"Hey, blondie! As much as I appreciate the tongue up your ass, could you, pretty please with a cherry on top, fuck me!!?!?"

Spike smirked at the indignant, sweaty face of the Slayer. He rotated his hips, and groaned as Willow took advantage and pressed her hands around his body. He began a slow, rocking rhythm in and out of Buffy's body. When he chanced to look down, he nearly bit off his own tongue to see two delicate thumbs rub against his bitch's sopping wet folds, pressing hard against the puffed-up clit every time Spike fucked himself on the appendage wiggling in his ass.

Low, guttural moans filled the air as all three members of this triumvirate reached orgasm. Buffy was first, her body clenching and spasming as the hardest orgasm she had ever experienced ripped a hoarse scream from her throat. Then, the redhead, who had been rubbing her clit against Spike's heel, melted into a puddle of sighs and fell onto her back. Spike grunted as his orgasm swept through him.

The vampire fell against Buffy's left side, hauling Willow up to rest at her other side before laying his head at the Slayer's breast.

Willow and Spike both suckled at a breast, playing their free hands over her body, sometimes meeting and tangling playfully. Spike felt a warm glow flow through his limbs, into his torso, circle around his chest, and settle where his heart didn't beat. This must be what happiness was. He hadn't felt it since bloody-fucking-Angelus had returned, and wooed his Dark Princess away from him. Ok, it hadn't taken much wooing, it was more like a snap of his fingers and Dru had gone runnin' to her Angelus. Woof, snarl, bad dog. But this glowy feeling was the closest thing William the Bloody had ever felt to contentment in his 100 odd years of unlife. Or in the parts that had involved a beating heart, for the matter. He grinned around Buffy's tit, and vamped out, sinking his teeth into her breast. He could feel Willow avidly eyeing them as she carefully licked around the circumference of the other pink-tipped golden globe. Spike rubbed his once again hard cock against her soft, warm thigh.

An hard, fast orgasm hit Buffy, just from being fed upon. The vampire bucked against her body, spewing a load of cold cream over her legs. He loved being a vampire; it meant a great return time. Spike withdrew his fangs from her body, lapping at the bite, soothing the raw area surrounding them. He fell onto his back, failing to notice the tiny sparks closing the wounds faster than any Slayer healing every could. Willow, however, did see, and captured Buffy's lips in a quick kiss and sharing a secret grin with her lover and friend before moving over her lovers to settle on the other side of Spike.

Cuddling up to his lovers, his bloody excellent bitches, Spike rumbled with contentment, his purring filling the room, easing the two women at his sides and himself into sleep.

Two hands met over Spike's flat stomach, easily forming a triangle with their first fingers and thumbs. The instant the symbol formed, a matching blue and red triangle glowed into existence on the vampire's stomach.

Spike slept on, ignorant of the events he had set in motion on a whim.