"Hiya, Toots!" The Slayer grinned up at the tall blond vampire as she plopped down next to him on the park bench. He was strikingly handsome, with piercing blue eyes under dark brows, a mobile mouth, elegant cheekbones, and a natural wave in his unnaturally blond hair.

"Don't call me 'Toots', Pet. You know I hate it." His voice was deep and still tinged with the North London accent he'd never lost despite the many years since he'd lived there.

"Don't call me 'Pet', Toots. You know I hate it."

"Tch, girl, has that Watcher of yours taught you nothing but fighting? Has he taught you no bleedin' tact?" Spike glanced around the park, deserted at this early hour of the morning, just a few minutes after midnight. "Speaking of Cap'n Tweedheart, where is the old boy?"

"When we finished patrolling, Giles took a powder and went back to the library. He got some message this afternoon from the Council about a demon rising from the Hellmouth. Giles is gonna research the demon's weaknesses. I'm gonna go fight it. Y'know, the same old same old.

"So I thought I'd zip through the park one more time and then head home. Mom's in full-out paranoia mode these days and I can't be out too late." Buffy's nose crinkled in wry amusement. "For all I know, she's already called Giles three or four times bugging him about where her 'baby' is. Geez." The Slayer grinned slyly at her unlikely companion. "But Giles will get the info on the demon and sooner or later I'll kill it. I'll stake my life on that!"

Spike grimaced. "Ow! Slayer, that's got to be the worst joke I've heard in 50 years! Are you tryin' to kill me here?"

Quick as a thought, a stake materialized in the Slayer's hand and flashed toward the blond vampire's chest. "That can be arranged!"

Quicker than a thought, the vampire caught the Slayer's wrist in a vice-like grip. "Naughty, naughty," he scolded as he forced open her hand, dropping the stake to the ground. "Where are your manners? Don't you know better than to try to stake me in the middle of an innocent conversation?" His scarred left eyebrow quirked upward as he grinned at the Slayer.

"You're right, Spike," said the Slayer, her seafoam green eyes widening and her voice dripping with insincerity and false ingenuousness. "I forgot myself and took unfair advantage of you. How can I ever make it up to you?" She bit her lower lip as she looked up through her lashes at Spike.

"I have no doubt at all. We'll think of something . . .: Whatever else she had intended to say was cut off as Spike lowered his head to hers and kissed her. Her arms slipped around his neck and she squirmed onto his lap, straddling him.

Despite Spike's best efforts, Buffy kept her mouth firmly closed as they kissed, frustrating the vampire no end. Spike broke off the kiss and craned his head to look at Buffy. "Come on . . . what are you, first cousin to a clam?"

"Ha! What are you, some kinda perv-" Spike interrupted her again, this time while her mouth was still open. He seized this opportunity to invade her mouth with his tongue.

Gotcha, Slayer! Spike thought he'd won this round.

Ha! Gotcha, Spike! Buffy knew she'd won because Spike had caved first, unable to resist his desire to kiss her more deeply.

As their tongues dueled in the age-old dance of lust, Buffy's hands slipped, as of their own will, across Spike's shoulders and around to his chest where they lingered, caressing. Her thumbs found his nipples and teased them through the think cotton of his tee-shirt. She smiled against his mouth as he moaned deep in his throat. She reveled in the power she had to arouse both his emotions and his body.

She abandoned his mouth to scatter light kisses along his jaw and down his throat. Groaning, he arched his neck, offering himself to her mouth. She seized his earlobe between her upper teeth and her lower lip and scraped it gently. As she did so, Spike began to kiss the top of her shoulder, running his lips along her collar bone until they found the pulse at the base of her throat. Despite her knowledge of the danger involved, Buffy rolled back her head, allowing Spike full access to her throat.

I can't believe she trusts me so, Spike thought. And I can't believe I don't kill her. He ran his tongue lightly up one side of her throat, under her chin and down the other side, back to her collar bone. He could almost taste her blood through her skin and he felt his control over his demon begin to slip. Taking a deep, albeit unnecessary, breath, Spike forced the demon to withdraw deep inside.

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy had seen the demon visage flicker briefly and then subside. With relief, she removed her hand from the stake she had stashed in the waistband of her cargo pants. Some night, he'll lose that battle, she thought and I'll have to . . . Even to herself, she was unwilling to finish that thought. Then all thoughts were driven from her mind by the sensations Spike was stirring in her. He had slipped his left hand under her shirt and was gently kneading her right breast. She arched her back, pressing herself more firmly into his hand.

"Slayer," Spike murmured, his voice thick with longing. "I think we are both really overdressed for our level of , mmmmm, activity." Spike shrugged out of his duster and let it fall.

"Geez, do all you Brits hafta talk like dictionaries?" Buffy grumbled, wasting no time, however, in beginning to strip Spike's tee-shirt over his head. He's perfect! And I love the way his muscles twitch when I do this. She ran her hands possessively over his bare chest and then began to unfasten his jeans.

"Hey! Not so fast, Pe- um, Slayer," Spike protested. "We're just a bit too public here, y'know." He looked around and spotted a picnic shed not far away. He gestured toward it with his head. "Privacy."

Snatching up his duster and tee-shirt from the bench, Spike stood , taking the Slayer with him. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her arms around his neck, Buffy buried her face in Spike's shoulder. Trailing his duster on the ground, the blond vampire carried the vampire slayer to the picnic shed. Buffy twirled her tongue into Spike's ear, causing him almost to stumble. "Watch it, Fumble Foot," she muttered, resuming her attentions to his ear. Spike tried, but for once was unable, to think of a reply. All he could think about was how delicious Buffy's tongue felt.

Once under the shelter, Spike, with the Slayer still clinging to him, spread his duster on the ground and knelt on it. Gently, he laid down the Slayer. With great care and an unexpected tenderness, he removed her shirt and the wisp of lace that passed for a bra. She gasped and then moaned as he took one nipple into his mouth and began to rub the other with his thumb. Buffy clutched the ground with one hand as she ran the other through Spike's platinum hair.

She whined in protest as Spike removed his mouth from her breast, a whine which he quickly silenced with a kiss. Buffy lifted her hips from the ground to assist as Spike began to remove her cargo pants and panties. He paused a moment to enjoy the sight of her, nude in the moonlight. "You are so bloody beautiful," he murmured.

"And you are so bloody overdressed," Buffy answered as he fingers nimbly unzipped his jeans. Immediately, it was apparent that Spike was wearing neither boxers nor briefs. "Came prepared, didn't ya?"

"A ruddy Boy Scout, I am." As Buffy took him into her hand, Spike's voice faded first to a whisper, then to a moan. "Aaahhhhh, Slayer..."

"Say my name, Vampire. Say it." Buffy bent and blew lightly on the head of his penis. "Not 'Pet,' not 'Ducks,' not 'Slayer.' Say my name." Her tongue flicked at the end of Spike's rigidity as she spoke each nickname. She didn't really know why it seemed so important to hear her name on her lover's lips, but it did. Taking a deep breath, Buffy took as much as Spike's penis into her mouth as she could, sucked hard and drew her lips back upward toward the glans, twisting her head as she went.

Spike tangled his hands in her hair and yielded, murmuring, "Buffy, Buffy" in a voice choked with passion. As he did so, Buffy began to lick the underside of his penis. "Ah, Buffy, I want you, I want you right now." In response, the blonde Slayer pushed the blond vampire onto his back and swung on top of him, impaling herself on him. Their eyes locked, blue intensity matched by green fire. Spike took both Buffy's breasts in his hands as she rode him. She bent and kissed him deeply.

Immediately, he rolled so that their positions were reversed. He began to thrust, with deep strokes, but not fast, establishing a steady rhythm. Buffy slipped a hand up his thigh to hold and squeeze his balls. This was almost more than Spike could stand. Buffy began to keen, her eyes rolling back in her head. The sight of the Slayer thrashing in orgasm was enough to send Spike rocketing into his own climax. Both Vampire and Vampire Slayer then collapsed in a sweaty tangle of limbs.

After a minute, Spike roused himself and, propping his head on his hand, looked down at the source of so much of his aggravation and delight. She was still breathing heavily, eyes closed, hair tangled. Gently, he stroked her hair back from her face. Who'd have thought it? he mused. How unlike my Dru you are, Slayer. She's all moonbeams and starlight. A rich dark Cabernet Sauvignon filling my senses, lingering on my tongue. You are the sunlight in the midst of my eternal night. Champagne that dances on my tongue. And I do love you both.

Buffy opened her eyes and saw Spike regarding her thoughtfully. "Whatcha thinking?"

"Nothin' much . . . " He paused, smiling, as the right name came to him. "Sweeting." It was an endearment current when he had been Buffy's age, though not heard often in this century.

"Sweeting?" Buffy considered. "I could get used to it." An errant hand began to trace little arabesques on Spike's chest. "You up for another round... Sweeting?" she asked. Wordlessly growling deep in his chest, Spike answered her by kissing her once again.


The End