It's a Bet


Written by: Laure


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Summary: Buffy and Spike bet on a pool game. Answer to Jul's Challenge. Set about a month after the birthday ep, "Older & Far Away, so nowish.
Distribution: If you like it, just ask; I've never said no. If you have my permission, please take. List archives: yes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy and friends or Buffy the Vampire Slayer; they're owned by Joss Whedon and Fox and thankfully UPN because we get nekkid Spike! No copyright infringement intended so please don't sue.
Dedication: To Juleen for the great challenge. You didn't actually ask for smut, but I couldn't help myself. Hope nobody minds.
Feedback: laurealexander@hotmail.com


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"Thanks for the game. I hope I'll see you again sometime."

Buffy smiled as a cute guy named Jason set down his pool cue and witih a smile and a wave to her went to rejoin his friends. Whistling to herself, she chalked her cue and looked around for her next opponent.

Her eyes lit on a tall, sandy blond, young man looking at her with interest, and she crooked her finger at him. But, as he started towards her, a black clad figure moved in front of him, turned and growled, and then spun back to Buffy.

Buffy scowled. "Go away."

Spike scowled back. "Public place." He picked up the discarded cue and ran his fingers along the shaft. "You ready to play with a man?"

Buffy looked around, then flashed him an innocent look. "Know any?"

"Ha ha." Frowning more, he shrugged out of his duster, dumping it on a nearby table, then ordered a bottle of tequila and two glasses from a hovering waiter.

"I'm not drinking with you."

"Got anything better to do?"

Thinking about his question for a moment, Buffy sighed heavily. "Sadly, no." She reached for the rack and began to set up a new game.

"Want to make it interesting?"

"I'm poor, remember, Spike?"

His leer made her narrow her eyes.

"No."

"What?" he asked in all fake innocence.

Leaning towards him, Buffy hissed, "I'm not betting sexual favors."

"You could just give it away for free," Spike suggested.

Lifting the pool cue, Buffy poked him in the chest with the tip. "We don't do that anymore."

"Oh, poke me again, luv."

His teasing voice just irked her more, and she spun away from him as the waiter returned with their drinks. Spike poured two glasses, then lifted one to his lips, draining it.

"Come on, Buffy. Drink, play, have fun."

Buffy gave the glass sitting on the edge of the pool table a dirty look, then she picked it up and drank it down. "That is disgusting," she coughed out.

"Hey, you're getting better at it."

"Not exactly a distinction I want," she replied dubiously.

"So, a wager? I could go fetch some kittens."

"I don't think so."

"Okay then...How about a kiss on the lips with a little tongue action if I win?"

Buffy reached for the bottle and poured herself another glass. "And if I win?"

"Anything you want, luv," he replied sincerely.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to leave her alone, but she immediately realized that wasn't what she really wanted. They hadn't been together in a month, and in that time they'd either ignored each other or danced around each other.

It was getting old.

As was spending her nights with her hands between her legs.

"If I win," she smirked at him and leaned up to whisper, "You kiss me all night long...on my other lips, with lots of tongue action." When she pulled back, she smirked even more at the shocked look on his face. Giggling, she took a sip of her drink, feeling the alcohol warm her. "You game?"

"Ye--yes," his voice broke, then he mentally shook himself and reached for the chalk. "You break. Most balls wins."

"Well, then, you've already won...luv."

As Spike's eyes grew even wider, Buffy leaned over the table, positioned her cue and tapped the cue ball, knocking it into the other balls and sending them rolling across the table.

Ten minutes later they were tied, five balls each, and it was Buffy's shot, a tricky one which had her nearly draped across the table, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, one foot raised.

"Stop licking your lips," Spike groaned.

"It's my shot, I can do anything I want." Striking the cue ball, she cursed under her breath when she missed.

Spike walked around the table, eying his next shot as he chalked the tip of his cue. As he lined it up, his eyes caught sight of Buffy stripping off her shirt to reveal a skimpy black lycra tank top. Swallowing hard, he lined the shot up again.

As he drew back the cue, Buffy put her hands on the table opposite him and leaned forward.

She licked her lips.

The cue ball skidded into the corner pocket.

"Cheater," he groaned.

Giving him her most innocent look, Buffy adjusted the drooping strap of her top, then quickly made her next shot. When she slid past him to reach the cue ball, he gave her a dirty look. "I was hot," she explained.

"That's why your nipples are little bullets, then, right?" he replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Buffy flushed and missed her next shot.

As Spike potted his sixth ball, Buffy took another drink, then filled his glass and gestured to it. He raised his eyebrows, and downed the tequilla before easily hitting his next shot.

"Wanting me drunk? It'll take more than a few glasses."

"Why would I want you drunk? Men can't peform when they're drunk." She smirked and sipped her tequilla, feeling her inhibitions slipping slightly.

Spike leered at her and chugged his drink. "Oh, don't worry, pet. I can perform under any conditions."

"Pinnochio's nose grows when he lies, does yours?"

"Nope. But, something else does."

Blushing, Buffy gestured to the table. "Stop dawdling."

Smirking even more, Spike lined up his next shot. It was seven to six, two balls left. Buffy moved to the opposite end of the table and stretched her hands over her head, yawning lightly and making her breasts bounce.

As he missed and cursed loudly, she smirked and picked up her stick, quickly tieing the score with a tricky shot around the eight ball.

"One more and I win, Spikey," she crowed.

He growled back, "You haven't won yet."

Rounding the table, Buffy stopped to pour herself a pre- celebration drink, downing it before she reached her last shot. As she lined it up, Spike sidled up behind her and whispered, "You know, even if you win, I win." His hand brushed across her back, sending a shiver through her just as she hit her shot.

The cue ball went wide and Buffy spun, placing one hand on Spike's chest and shoving him back. "You're the cheater."

He smiled and bowed. "It's my nature."

As Spike moved to win the game, convinced that even if he did win, she'd end up in his bed, Buffy picked up the bottle and took a slug.

"Oy, don't drink it all."

Buffy caught his heated gaze as he fiddled with his stick. Lifting the bottle again, she took a sip, then let a bit of the fiery liquor trickle down her chin to her chest. One droplet slid into the shadow between her breasts, as she murmured, "Oops."

Spike gulped and tried to concentrate on his next shot. The stick didn't even connect with the cue ball.

"I think this stick is bent," Spike groused.

"You're the one who's bent."

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "You should know, pet."

Buffy flushed and downed another sip of tequila, before taking her cue and heading to the opposite end of the table. Drawing in deep drags of air, she fought to regain her composure and her sobriety, before lining up a relatively easy shot and sinking the eight ball.

Cheering, Buffy dropped the cue on the table and did a victory dance.

Taking a deep drag of the tequilla, Spike watched her, admiring her every movement, especially the way her obviously unfettered breasts moved beneath the lycra.

"So, your place or mine, Buffy?"

That stopped her dance, and the implications of her win put fresh color on her face. Grabbing her shirt, she quickly moved into the crowd.

Smirking, Spike slipped on his duster, and followed her with ease.

Buffy knew he was behind her as she exited the Bronze into the cool night air. As she walked quickly, she made no move to ditch him, but kept her lead over him, not wanting him walking with her either.

Anticipation filled her and a tightness was growing in the pit of her stomach. Plus, she was just a bit drunk, which made her more accepting of the situation.

A month was just too damn long.

Keeping her easily in his sights, Spike strolled behind her, noting smugly that she was heading unerringly towards the cemetery that housed his crypt. With every step he felt his lust grow.

Buffy entered the crypt and headed down to the lower level which was lit by a lone lamp. As she hit the bottom step, she began to undress, stripping quickly. It was cool underground, but her rapidly growing desire was keeping her warm. As Spike's footfalls sounded on the stairs, she sank down into one of the easy chairs and hooked her legs over the padded arms.

The scent of her arousal easily overpowered the normal dank smell of his crypt, but Spike was still shocked to see her nude and spread across his chair.

Buffy arched one eyebrow and relaxed in the chair. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable, maybe get a pillow for your knees."

Stripping off his duster and kicking off his shoes, Spike moved into the room. The shirt went over his head and he reached for the buckle of his belt, when she stopped him with a throaty comment.

"You're not going to need your pants off."

At her words, his cock swelled and pressed painfully against his zipper. Groaning softly, he acknowledged her wiht a nod of his head, then grabbed a pillow off the bed and placed it in front of the chair.

Dropping to his knees, he focused all his attention on the light brown curls glittering with moisture and the glimpes of swollen pink flesh between her slender legs.

"Hours, luv?" he asked hoarsley.

"Not like you need to breathe," she replied, a hitch of anticiapation in her voice.

Placing his hands on her inner thighs, he caressed her gently, as he lowered his head and drank in her heady scent.

"Kiss me."

His tongue flicked out and touched the apex of her cleft, then slid slowly down. Closing his eyes, he began to lick, up and down, outer lips to inner, tasting her, feeling her flesh swell beneath his mouth.

Buffy lay her head back against the high cushion and closed her eyes, relaxing and letting her desire grow with each touch of his tongue. She wanted to savor this.

Spike's hands gently kneaded her thighs as he lapped her with rough strokes, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue. After several minutes, he felt her muscles bunching beneath his fingers and licked harder, wanting to feel her climax beneath his tongue.

Moaning softly, Buffy felt her orgasm approaching in a rush of wet heat, and arched her back, squirming and driving her hips up to meet his mouth. Taking her clit between his lips, he sucked on the senstive nerve bundle until she cried out and came. As her body shuddered in pleasure, he continued to lick her, cleaning her of her swiftly flowing juices.

With no respite, Buffy felt her need continuing to build and reached over her shoulders to grab the wings of the chair for leverage. Spike stiffened his tongue and rolled it down her swollen labia, sliding it into her and thrusting back and forth until she moaned loudly.

Lifting his head, he delighted for a moment in the flush on her face, the perspiration beading on her throat and breasts, then thrust two fingers into her tight channel, thumping them upwards to find her most sensitive spots.

"Yes," she hissed.

"Like that?"

"...Fuck...yes..." Buffy arched her back, driving herself down onto his fingers.

Grinning in delight, Spike added a third finger, stretching her inner muscles and pumping into her heat. His thumb lightly brushed across her clit and he flet it jump. As he thrust his fingers rapidly, he continued to tease her clit, pushing it into its hood and rubbing it until she whimpered, a long, drawn out sound of need.

"Want to come, luv?"

"More, harder, yes."

Cocking his eyebrows, he carefully inserted his fourth finger, stretching her wider than his cock ever had, and he watched her suck him in. "Oh...baby..."

Unable to speak as pleasure swamped her, Buffy made a gutteral sound. Her womb tightened, her clit throbbed, and she spasmed into her orgasm with a loud cry.

Her muscles clamping around his fingers, Spike groaned and slowed his thrusts, sliding his thumb off her sensitive clit. As she relaxed, slumping in the chair, her hands falling limply to her thighs, he slid from inside her and licked his fingers.

Buffy opened her eyes and caught him savoring her sticky juices. She flushed in pleasure and wriggled in the chair. Spike watched her squirm and her enticing aroma wafted to his nose. His cock hardened even more, and he squeezed it through the jeans, adjusting it and trying to find a more comfortable position.

Finally giving up on comfort, he decided to ignore his erection, and slid his hands beneath Buffy's thighs, tilting her back and raising her to his mouth.

At the first touch of his lips against her tender clit, Buffy thumped her head back against the chair and groaned. Gripping her knees, she focused on her breathing, as he sucked and licked and nipped her swollen flesh.

Her orgasm built languorously, her muscles clenching and unclenching, her body squirming in the chair, her head rolling, and gasps of need echoing from her. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed and still he suckled at her, driving her to distraction with flicks of his tongue. Her clit ached, her body was slick with sweat, but he didn't let up and she wasn't about to beg him to stop.

Finally it hit her with sudden power, flinging her back in the chair, her body arching to his mouth, every muscle in her tightening, then springing free in release. She shouted her pleasure to the ceiling as spasm after spasm rolled through her.

Her juices gushing over his chin, Spike lifted his head to place a soft kiss on her trembling inner thigh, then rested his forehead on his stomach. Even with his own need roaring through him he sighed in contentment at her pleasure.

Buffy's eyes opened and she blinked rapidly, then curled her fingers in his hair and shoved his head back into her crotch.

"More?" he asked in surprise.

"...Hours," she croaked hoarsely.

"Luv, I don't want to hurt..."

She interupted him wiht another shove of his head. "Less talk, more tongue."

Mentally shrugging, Spike licked her clit hard, and she yelped and pressed him tighter to her, every muscle in her stomach tightening. He focused on the sore, swollen nubbin, wanting to bring her off quickly. As he sucked the bit of flesh between his lips, rubbing it against his teeth, Buffy writhed against his mouth, and her sweaty thihgs slipped in his hands.

It felt like molten lava was running through her veins. She breathed heavily, her body shaking with lust, and her fingers remained locked in his hair, holding him to her, so she could fuck herself against his face.

Spike closed his teeth gently on her clit and nipped her.

Shrieking, Buffy came in wild gyrations, smearing her secretions across his face as she bucked and exploded. Finally, her body slid down in the chair as she fell limp and exhausted.

Glancing up at her, Spike wiped at his face, then licked his fingers clean, before popping his stiff neck and pushing himself to his feet.

As he scooped her into his arms, she mumbled, "Has it been hours?"

"Long enough, luv. You're limp as a noodle." Laying her down on the bed, he watched her curl onto her side, her heavy head falling onto a pile of pillows. Her eyes flickered open to catch him stripping off his jeans revealing a very hard and purple cock.

"Looks hungry."

Spike gave his cock a despairing look, silently wishing it to sink. To his amazement, Buffy rolled onto her back and let her legs fall open.

"Want to come again," she panted out, "with you inside me."

"Buffy, you're sore and..."

"The winner." Her eyes sparked with life.

Smiling, Spike crawled onto the bed, then rolled her relaxed body over, pulling her to her knees. "Less stimulation your sore clit, baby, the better."

"Want stimulation," she whined.

"Oh, you'll get plenty of that." Moving between her legs, he guided his cock inside her grasping channel. Gently he began to pump, rocking against her, his hands running up and down her slumped back.

"Oooh..."

"So tight and hot, baby," he murmured, lowering his head and placing a kiss on her shoulder blade.

Eyes closed, head relaxed on the pillows, Buffy reveled in him filling her, stretching her and sending sparks of pleasure through her tired body. A gentle passion sprang to life inside her, and she smiled at the way he made her feel.

Raising to his knees, his hands caressing her hips, Spike watched his cock slide in and out of her, both of them dripping with her wetness. He drew in a shuddering breath as his balls tightened at the erotic sight. His thrusts sped up, and he grunted with each drive, his own long denied orgasm quickly approaching.

"Come, baby, come," he chanted through clenched teeth.

At the next deep thrust, Buffy wriggled and whimpered in pleasure, clenching her vaginal muscles around him.

"Fuck, Buffy! Do it...again."

Giggling softly, she squeezed again, trapping his cock inside her until he howled. As she released him, he cried out and exploded into her. His cool secretions splashing her inner walls sent her into her own gentle orgasm, and she moaned his name and trembled beneath him.

Gasping for unneeded air, Spike pulled out of her and collapsed next to her on his back. Slowly Buffy slid onto her stomach and moaned into the pillow, her msucles continuing to quiver as pleasure rolled through her.

"That was...nice," she gasped out.

"That was bloody fantastic," he corrected, pulling her close to him and her head onto his shoulder.

Sleep was quickly approaching, but Buffy had one more comment. Yawning, she mumbled, "Tomorrow, rematch. I win, you get buggered."

Spike's eyes widened in shock. "Where'd you learn that word?"

"Internet."

"And just how do you expect to accomplish that?"

Blinking one eye open, she grinned up at him. "Bought a toy."

As she closed her eye again, Spike's cock popped back to life, and he cursed under his breath. "Fuck me..."

"Tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that, luv," he murmured, cradling her close.


The End




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