Spike tossed his jacket on the floor, grimacing. “Don’t get used to it, luv. It’s only for a week.”

Not to mention, the five-two Slayer would manage to take up the whole damn thing, anyway. Sleeping with Buffy was like sleeping with a cougar that had a bad case of jimmy-leg. The girl could take up four times her actual size on a bed, and had a nasty tendency to kick when she felt crowded. The king was a necessity if he was to get any sleep.

She purred and curled, draping herself appealingly against the pillows. “C’mon, tell me you don’t wanna see how sturdy this thing is.” Buffy’s eyelashes fluttered and her eyes gleamed green through the sooty veil.

Little Spike signaled his enthusiasm, standing to attention and saluting General Buffy. Oh, yeah. He dived, landing on top of her as she squealed.

Something squished in his trousers. Fuck.

Buffy’s eyes snapped open, wide and accusing, clever hands burrowing into his pant’s pocket. “What was that?”

He rolled, trying to evade her fingers. “What? Nothing!”

“Oh, gross, Spike! What did you do?”

He pulled back, shoulders hunched defensively. “It was a buffet! I thought it might come in handy.”

She wiggled the napkins out, flattening the thin paper onto the bedspread. “Caviar? Brie? What were you thinking?”

Spike’s tongue curled and he lunged at her, pressing her into the blankets. “Be quiet and I’ll show you, Slayer.”

“What?”

Spike hopped off of the bed and grabbed his suit jacket, fishing more origami parcels out of its myriad pockets and dropping them onto the nightstand. Returning to his mistress, he reached for the hem of her dress, tugging it up over her narrow hips. Gradually her gleaming flesh was exposed for his greedy perusal.

“Oh, yeah, luv, just lay back. Let me show you something new.”

Buffy whimpered, scowling, but obeyed. “You are sooooo perverse.”

He reached for the caviar, cradling the half-squashed packet in his palm. Tenderly, the vampire scooted between his mistress’ thighs, spreading her to his gaze, for his pleasure. He scooped up a finger-full of the small, salty spheres and laved them gently, tenderly, along the folds of Buffy’s sweet cunny.

She gasped. It felt cool but warm, soft and firm. His finger rolled the tiny orbs, pressing them into her moist lips. His own lips descended, his tongue emerging to lick at the salt, rough as a cat.

With each stroke, an orb exploded, spilling cool liquid to slide along the intricacies of her vulva. His tongue followed, lapping, moans vibrating against her mons. So bad, so good, so very, very tricky was her vampire. He took his time, working her into a crescendo, rocking and rolling against the smooth coverlet. Moans spilled from her throat, urging him to continue, to push her further.

Buffy’s eyes rolled back in her head. How did he do that? His mouth covered her sex, sucking, pulling, feasting on the juices that spilled from her cunt. She could feel each tiny globe shattering against her flesh, driving her further over the edge. She spilled over, foaming into his hungry mouth, feeding his fixation. “Yes, fuck, yes, Spike, more, oh god, more, more, more!”

The brie followed, creamy and thick, arcing her into yet another orgasm, as he coated her clit with cool viscosity. He was eating her, literally eating out of her cunt, and the mere thought of it made her spasm, made her die again. Spike was feasting on her pussy, scooping the raw flavors of overripe cheese and roe from her dripping center.

Every moan, every slurp, brought her to orgasm. Buffy’s ass drummed against the bed, her hips twitching and writhing as she begged him to eat her, eat all of her, suck her dry. Oh, god, he was so bad, so wicked and good and wrong and right.

Light was creeping between the curtains when he pressed grapes into her cunt, filling her and emptying her. His tongue pressed the smooth globes deep within, stuffing her full, making a meal of her, even as he sucked them back out and fed them to her. The juice of herself and the grapes exploded on her tongue, making her dizzy, and she cried out.

“Yes! Oh, yes, Spike! I do, I do, I do, I love you, oh god, I love….”

The vampire grinned into his goddess’ sex, replete with her flesh and pleasure. Theirs might be an unorthodox and unauthorized honeymoon, but it was real to them. Mere mortals could never understand the force of creatures such as they, nor the depth of a commitment that went beyond death.

Spike feasted on her and was made replete. Buffy fed him, and was filled.