By Kimberly

Previously, on "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" ...

BUFFY: I think I was in Heaven. ... Everything here is ... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch ... this is Hell.

BUFFY: Everyone ... (long pause) they all care. They all care so much, it ... makes it all harder. ... I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be okay, so they don't worry. It's exhausting.

SPIKE: And that makes 'em worry even more.

Buffy moves forward, sits on the top stair, sighs deeply. Spike sits beside her.

BUFFY: Why are you always around when I'm miserable?

SPIKE: 'Cause that's when you're alone, I reckon. I'm not one for crowds myself these days.

They look at each other.

BUFFY: Me neither.

SPIKE: That works out nicely then.

* * * * * * * * *

It was quite late in the evening when the Slayer arrived. She opened the door without knocking, as always, but without slamming it. That was new since she'd been back. She entered the dark crypt and closed the heavy door carefully behind her.

Spike's skin and hair shone vaguely blue in the light of the television as he turned to look at her. The rest of the crypt was in shadow, only a couple of candles lit here and there. "'Lo there, pet," he greeted her. "Somethin' I can do for ya?"

Buffy looked a bit embarrassed, hovering near the doorway and looking at the cement floor.

Spike waited patiently. She was quiet these days ... had something to say, just needed time.

"This is going to sound really stupid ..." she began hesitantly. Spike waited. She cleared her throat and glanced at the television, "Could you turn that off?" Spike leaned forward and switched off the tv, plunging the crypt into almost complete darkness. He settled back into his chair and watched Buffy's face curiously in the dim light.

"Somethin' wrong, luv?" She seemed sad, or lonely, or something. Vulnerable. Actually, she'd seemed that way a lot since she'd returned.

She shook her head. He could see the dim candlelight reflect off of the shiny gold mass as it moved. "No, nothing's wrong." She hesitated. "Well, nothing, really. I mean ... I'm just ..."

"This'll sound really stupid ..." she shifted from one foot to the other.

Spike smiled gently, "Pet, you already said that, but I can guarantee I won't think it's stupid. An' no matter what it is, you know you can tell me, an' I'll do anything I can to help."

Buffy glanced cautiously at Spike's face, then bit her bottom lip before asking, "Can I ... can I come over there? To sit, I mean?"

Spike immediately leapt to a standing position, gesturing to the chair and replying, "'Course! I shoulda offered right off ..."

But Buffy interrupted him. "No! I mean ..." Spike wasn't sure, but he thought she might be blushing. "I mean ... can I come sit there ... with you ..." Her voice had grown quieter by the end, and just trailed off.

Spike stood awkwardly beside the chair, shocked into silence. He rubbed a hand nervously through his hair and finally stammered, "Um ... sure ... yeah ... 'course ..." and seated himself in the chair again as Buffy walked slowly toward him. "Uh ... how you want to do this, pet?"

"Could you just ... just ... hold me?" Buffy asked in almost a whisper, and Spike held out his arms. She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms tightly around him, pressing her face against his neck as he held her close. He felt wetness against the skin of his neck, and knew she must be crying, and so he stroked her hair softly and murmured comforting nonsense. "S'alright, pet ... everythin's gonna be just fine ... you just cry s'long as you need to ... I'm here, luv ... I'm here ... you're safe, Buffy ... just let it out ... love you, pet ... you're safe here ..."

They sat that way for what seemed like hours. Her entire body trembled against him. Spike gently rubbed Buffy's back and pulled her hair away from her face, kissing her forehead softly.

After a time, she seemed to relax in his arms, snuggling against his shoulder and sighing quietly. Spike just continued stroking her back and hair. She'd stopped trembling at last, and her tears seemed to cease as well. They just sat there together in silence and Spike listened to her breathing, slow and soft and warm, so near his ear. He felt like his whole body was tingling.

If he waited until she said something, she'd probably be embarrassed. Nobody likes crying on their former enemy's shoulder, after all. Especially not kick-ass Slayers. He figured he should think of something to say to help her stay relaxed, help take her mind off the odd situation they were in ...
His voice was quiet in the darkness. "Y'ever play that question game with the Bit? We played it a lot last summer."

"Question game?"

"Well, yeah. Y'make a deal at the beginnin' ... honest answers, nothin' said leaves this room. Then ya take turns askin' the questions. Promise I won't ask you anythin' too embarrassin', pet." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Spike felt her nod against his neck and shoulder. "Okay. Who starts?"

Spike chuckled. "Guess you just did, luv. Now it's my turn." Buffy chuckled against his neck, and the breath against the moisture from her tears was like an electric shock. He shuddered lightly, then continued talking quickly. "What's your favorite food?"

"Whipped cream," Buffy answered in a firm voice.

"Whipped cream? That's not a food!"

"Sure it is. Right there on the food pyramid, in the dairy group! Part of this nutritious breakfast. My turn now?"

"Well, it was, pet. But now it's mine, 'cause you just asked your question."

Buffy smacked him lightly on the arm, "Cheater!"

Spike held his hands up, all innocence. "Just followin' the rules, Slayer. You know me ... law-abidin' citizen an' all." He paused a moment, then said, "But I guess, just this once, you can take your turn again. Still learnin' the rules, I reckon."

Buffy sighed sarcastically, "Oh, thank you sooo much. Okay, here's my question. Why did you shudder a minute ago?"

Spike went still. "Uh ... well ..."

"Honest answers, Spike, remember?"

Spike leaned his head back to glare at her. "Are you accusing me of welshing? I'm gonna answer the bloody question ..."

He heaved a sigh, then grimaced slightly. "You ... when you laughed, you ... breathed on my neck ... an' ..." the last bit came out in a rush, "... felt bloody good, okay?" He looked away, embarrassed. Who'd've known she'd be the one asking the embarrassing questions? Should he get back at her with an embarrassing question of his own, or move things onto safer footing? This could get out of hand, seeing as how he was the one with the most to lose, being in love with her.

"What do you find sexiest about me?" The question popped out of his mouth before he'd even decided to ask it.

Buffy was quiet for a moment, then said quietly, "Your eyes. They're so intense ... so ... sometimes when you look at me, it's like I can feel it inside me."
They both pretended to ignore Spike's immediate physical reaction to her answer, though his quickly growing erection was impossible to hide. Spike heard her heart rate speed up, and her body temperature seemed to increase, as well. It was like some sort of feedback loop between the two of them.
Buffy cleared her throat again. "My turn. What scares you, and why?"

"You."

"What?"

"You scare me, Buffy. Don't like admittin' it, but s'true. You scare me half to death, because you can break my heart with just one word, just one look. You ... you have power over me, an' I hate that, an' it scares the hell out of me." Why was he admitting all this? Things would be awkward as hell tomorrow. Were those Buffy's lips brushing against his neck? That had to have been his imagination.

"My turn," he continued quickly. "What's the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?"

Buffy thought for a moment, her cheek nuzzling comfortably against his shoulder. "Before I get out of bed, or after?"

"Whichever, pet."

"Well, I guess I'd have to say that ... well ... I lie in bed with my eyes still closed, and try to remember my dreams. And if I had good dreams, I try to remember every detail, try to memorize them, so they're like actual memories of wonderful stuff that really happened."

Spike nodded in agreement, then Buffy said quietly against the sensitive moist skin of his neck, "Same question, back to you. What's the first thing you do when you wake up in the morning?"

Spike swore under his breath, then leaned his head back to look at the ceiling for a moment. "Trust me, luv, you don't want to hear the answer to that one."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"You asked for it ..."

"I did."

Closing his eyes, Spike said quickly, "First thing I generally do when I wake up, pet, is have a wank." He heard Buffy's breath catch.

"My turn, luv. An' my question is this ... what are you thinkin' right now?"

Buffy's voice was only a whisper. "Honest?"

"Honest."

She hid her face against his shoulder. "I'm thinking that I'd like to watch."

For a moment, it seemed like Spike might be choking to death. Buffy rolled off his lap and onto the floor, propelled by the vigor of his hacking and coughing. She sat there on the concrete, blushing and not looking at him, until his choking seemed to have subsided and he was only making mildly distressed gurgling noises.

Buffy glanced nervously up at his face, and saw his wide eyes glinting in the dim light as he stared at her. She licked her lips, and his eyes immediately dropped to her mouth.

"God, Buffy," he murmured, as if in pain. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Buffy watched him intently, but with an edge of hesitation. "It's not your turn, Spike. It's mine. ... And my question is ... would you ... I mean ... um ... I've never seen ... would you ... show me?"

Spike's entire body jerked in reaction to her question, a soft moan echoing in the small crypt. His voice was strained when he asked, "Are you asking what I think you're asking, Buffy?"

Buffy repeated quietly, uncertainly, "Show me, Spike? Please?"

He shuddered at her "please," and his hands moved slowly toward his jeans. He watched her face, sure that at any moment she would tell him to stop what he was doing. He began undoing the buttons, and her breathing seemed faster. Spike nervously licked his lips and pushed his jeans down past his knees, where they fell around his feet. Buffy moaned quietly at the sight of his erection and licked her lips again, causing his cock to jerk visibly.
If he kept watching her face, this was going to be over in a humiliatingly short period of time, so he closed his eyes as he ran his hand lightly over his chest and down to his crotch, where he grasped his cock in a loose grip, afraid that stronger stimulation would send him right over the edge.
He shifted position slightly in the chair, slumping down into a more comfortable slouch and leaning his head back, arching his neck. He started a slow stroking motion, every cell of his body thrillingly aware of Buffy's presence so nearby, watching him so closely. At the end of each stroke, he ran his thumb around the leaking head.

And then her voice, quietly curious. "What are you thinking about?"

"You," Spike responded, his eyes still closed, his body going stiff and tight, his back arching tensely as he thrust into his hand at the sound of her voice.

"What about me?"

"God, Buffy! Your ... mouth ... your lips ... on me ... your tongue ..." He was stroking faster now, panting and straining. His lips were parted, and his tongue appeared periodically to moisten them.

"Your mouth ... so hot ... so wet ... oh god ... oh god, Buffy ... so good ... feels so good ..." His neck was arched back as if he were in agony, his cock huge and glistening with pre-cum as his hand moved over it with an increasingly regular, faster rhythm. Buffy watched with wide, greedy eyes, her gaze traveling constantly back and forth from his face to where his hand was working.

"You want to feel my mouth on you, Spike?" she asked quietly.

"God yes! Oh fuck yes! Oh fuck, Buffy!" Spike shouted as his body jerked uncontrollably and he began to cum, the thick white liquid spurting all over his black t-shirt. "Unnnnhhhh ... unnnnhh .... holy fuck ... oh Jesus ..." Some drops of cum even sprayed onto his shoulder, he came so hard. After a moment, when the spurts had stopped, his hand stilled, holding himself as he panted softly.

"Oh my god," he breathed wonderingly, his eyes still tightly closed. "Bloody hell ..."

Buffy stood, and watched him uncertainly. "I should ... I should probably get home ... Dawn ..."

Spike opened his eyes warily. This was going to screw everything up. He'd been starting to think they were becoming friends ... and now this.
He felt ridiculous, acting normal when he was sitting there with his dick in his hand, but he tried to sound casual when he said, "Sure, pet. You'd better get goin'." He closed his eyes again, not wanting to see her face when she left after this performance.

A moment later, he felt a small, warm hand against his cheek, and then soft, soft lips on his ... exploring ... giving ... a warm, wet tongue entering his mouth to stroke and play and taste. And then, with one last gentle press of her lips against his, she walked to the door.

She turned back to look at him, and smiled shyly. "Thank you, Spike." And then she was gone.

---

Spike'd had a hell of a day, unable to sleep without dreaming of Buffy, of her wide eyes watching him, her small hands touching him, her warm lips caressing him ... and when he was awake it was even worse. His erection was beginning to seem a permanent condition, accompanied by his anxiety about how Buffy would react to the events of the previous night.

Spike entered his crypt cautiously, sensing a presence already within the shadowy confines. Closing the door quietly behind him, he removed the knife from his boot and snuck further into the occupied crypt. Then he saw her. Buffy. She was asleep curled up in his chair, her mouth slightly open, her breathing slow and even.

Heaving a sigh, Spike tossed the knife onto a shelf, waking Buffy with the clatter. She sat up straight, rubbing her eyes and smoothing her hair.

"Din't anyone ever tell you s'not smart to sleep in a graveyard, Slayer?"

"I didn't mean to fall asleep. I just ... I was waiting for you ... and ..." Sudden indignation. "Where have you been?"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Since when've I answered to you, pet?"

Buffy stood, awkwardly smoothing her blouse and short skirt. "Fine. Never mind. I'll ... uh ... see you later." She walked toward the door, but Spike stood in her path.

"Hey," he said softly, bending down slightly to try to look into her eyes. "Didn't mean to scare ya off. Truth be told, m'happy for the company, luv."

Buffy peered uncertainly up at him in the darkness, and something in his manner seemed to comfort her. "Okay." She relaxed slightly, then bit her lip nervously. "So."

Spike nodded slowly. "So."

Buffy glanced around the crypt as if afraid to meet his eyes.

"Want me to light some candles, pet?"

Buffy shook her head. "I like the dark. It feels ... safe ... somehow. I can't explain it. Everything just seems so bright and harsh these days."

The both stood awkwardly, not sure what to do with their hands.

Clearing her throat quietly, Buffy asked, "So, is it my turn?"

Spike tilted his head in confusion. "Your turn for what?"

"Well ... you asked if I wanted you to light some candles ... so it's my turn to ask a question."

Spike raised his eyebrows. She wanted to play the question game again, even after what happened last night? He gestured toward the chair, "Make yourself comfortable, pet."

Buffy hesitated a moment, and Spike tilted his head again questioningly. "Um ... could we ... sit ... together, again?" She explained quickly, "It's just been a rough couple days and ..."

Spike interrupted her, "Sure thing, luv. Whatever you want." He sat in the chair and opened his arms to her again, pleased when she crawled into his lap and curled against his chest, one small, warm hand curved around the side of his bare neck. He closed his eyes a moment, overwhelmed by being this close to her again, by her scent, her warmth, her heartbeat.

It was inevitable. No way to hide it, with her sitting right there on his lap. She squirmed slightly against his burgeoning erection, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Did she do that on purpose? God!

"So ... uh ... don't be offended ... but ... where were you?"

Spike chuckled. "That's your question?" Buffy nodded. "Was playin' pool at the Bronze, pet. Nothing so exciting. Was goin' crazy hangin' around the crypt today." His voice was quieter when he began, "Now my question ..." Should he really ask this? What if it just made everything worse? "Pet ... how do you feel ... about what happened ... last night?"

Buffy hid her face against the soft cloth of his t-shirt and murmured, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. When you were holding me ... like this ... I just felt ... safe ... relaxed ... happier than I have since I've been back. And, then, later ... well ... I don't know what it means, Spike, but I've thought about it a lot."

Spike was stunned. He'd braced himself for disgust, or at least regret, but ... this! What to say now? He croaked, "Your question."

Buffy was quiet for a moment before asking softly, "What do you think of me, Spike?"

"What do I think of you, pet? That one's easy. I think you're strong, and independent, and smart, and sexy as hell, and beautiful, and a good friend, and a good big sis, and anybody who knows you's the better for it. Except the ones who get dusted."

She chuckled against his chest and whispered, "Thank you."

"My question again, luv. What's your idea of the perfect date?"

"Hmmm ... the perfect date ..." She seemed to be mulling it over. "I guess I'd say ... maybe a walk under the stars ... maybe near the ocean ... holding hands and talking ... maybe a picnic ... maybe slow dancing on the sand ..." She laughed a little, sounding embarrassed. "Sounds cheesy, I know."

"Doesn't sound cheesy at all, Buffy luv. Sounds very ... romantic."

"My question," she piped up, as if wanting to change the subject. She shifted position on his lap and Spike nearly groaned out loud. He hoped she thought he had a really big lighter in his pocket or something. "I've been wondering ..." she hesitated a moment and then asked, "Do you still want to bite me?"

Oh god! Lighters, even really big ones, don't move like that. There's no way she was confused now about what was poking her lovely butt from inside his jeans. And it was getting bloody painful, to tell the truth.

"Think this is another one of those ones you don't want the answer to, pet."

"I told you last time, I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to hear the answer." She squirmed again, and he was growing increasingly certain she was doing it on purpose. Her heart was beating faster, too. It was all going to go to hell if she heard his honest answer. Maybe he could distract her.

Placing one hand on her chin, Spike angled her face so that he could brush his lips against hers. Buffy gasped softly, clearly taken off guard, but then she leaned toward him, and their lips met again. Soft ... soft ... so warm and soft and tender and Spike's hands trailed down to her hips and held them in place as he ground himself slowly against her butt. She moaned into his mouth, then -- hell! -- she pulled gently away.

Looking into his eyes in the dim lighting of the crypt, she asked insistently, "Do you still want to bite me, Spike?"

His head fell back and he groaned. "Yes, pet. Yes, I want to bite you. I'm a bloody vampire!" She had stiffened in his lap, pulling away slightly, so he continued quickly. "S'not about killin' you, pet, or turnin' you ... s'about ... closeness ... being in you ... having you in me ... s'about pleasure ... for both of us ... s'about sharing ... an' ... well ... sex." He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for her to get up and leave.

Her voice was whisper soft. "I think about it, too, Spike. I dreamt about it last night ... and ... I ..."

Spike waited, but she didn't finish her sentence. His cock was so hard now that he was probably giving her bruises, but it was painfully wonderful. Two days ago, if someone had told him that Buffy'd be sitting on his hard cock and telling him she dreamt about him biting her, he would've laughed in their face.

When he realized she wasn't going to finish what she'd been saying, Spike ventured, "When you dreamt about me, Buffy, did you ... did you ... cum?"
Not looking at him, Buffy nodded against his chest, clearly embarrassed.

"God!" Spike gasped, unable to control himself from thrusting up against her again, craving the friction of her body against his cock. He was panting now, trying to keep himself in check. She was driving him insane tonight. He'd be lucky if he didn't embarrass himself ... the situation was growing increasingly precarious.

Buffy was breathing faster, too, her hips moving in small circles she probably wasn't even aware of. "Maybe," she gasped, "maybe we need to ... take a break ..."

Spike nodded jerkily, then remembered the package he'd stashed earlier in the evening. "Got you a present, pet. S'in the fridge."

Buffy clumsily climbed off of him, her limbs seeming a bit shaky as she walked over to the tiny refrigerator. Spike stretched a bit, glanced over toward Buffy, then quickly readjusted his hard-on inside his jeans. Ah, much less painful. Then he heard Buffy laugh, and looked over at her. In the light from the fridge, he saw her holding up the spray can of whipped cream and grinning in delight. She shook it vigorously as she closed the fridge and walked back toward the chair.

Still grinning, she said, "You know, I used to eat this stuff all by itself when I was a kid. Just squirt it on my finger and lick it off." She demonstrated by squirting a line of white cream in a line on her index finger. Before she could lick it off, however, Spike gently nabbed her wrist and lifted her finger to his own mouth. His tongue curled languorously against her skin, sucking the whipped cream off of her finger until it was clean. Her finger was slightly salty, and the taste of it mixed with the cool cream into a sort of ambrosia. He moaned softly around her finger, sucking a bit longer than necessary. By the time he was finished, she was breathing as if she'd just run a marathon, staring at him as if hypnotized by desire.

"Your turn," she murmured shyly, and took his hand in hers. She sprayed a bit of whipped cream on his palm, and then proceeded to clean him with tiny, delicate licks and sucks that had him writhing and groaning. Her tongue was warm and wet and slow against his sensitive skin, and he felt it all over his body. His nipples tightened into almost painful points, his throat clenched, and his cock throbbed insistently. In his imagination, that cool cream was sprayed in a trail down to his dick, and her head was trailing down down down, her little tongue licking and sucking and ...

"God, Buffy!" he gasped.

She licked her lips and set the whipped cream can aside. "My turn to ask a question, Spike." She was watching him as if she wanted to devour him. And he certainly was in no position to put up a fight. He doubted he could move if the entire Scooby gang broke through the door at that moment, threatening to stake him. Buffy licked her lips again, her eyes roaming over his body, which tensed even more at her attention.

She crawled up into his lap again, but this time straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips. He was shocked that she would be so bold, but would die before he'd complain. "Spike ... my question is ... how ..." Her eyes flickered to his mouth, and she whispered, "How do you like to be kissed?"

With an aching groan, Spike placed one hand on each side of Buffy's head, cradling her face gently, and pulled her toward him, pressing his lips to hers.

~~~~~~~~~

Buffy had expected an aggressive attack, but Spike teased, persuaded, nibbled, licked, until she couldn't take it anymore and opened her mouth with a sigh, licking his lips until they opened and allowed her to delve inside.

Even then, he stayed gentle, stroking her tongue softly with his own, gently biting her bottom lip, and then trailing his lips over to her ear, where he licked and nibbled and sucked until she thought she couldn't stand it anymore. She was grinding herself insistently, up and down against his erection, her skirt up around her waist. She was sure he could feel her wet heat through the thin layer of her panties and his jeans, but she was beyond caring. The scent of her arousal was filling the room along with her panting sighs. She'd never been so turned on by just kissing!

She stroked herself against him, hitting her clit deliciously with each thrust, moving faster and faster, harder and harder. His cock seemed to move within his jeans, jerking and throbbing, or maybe that was just her own sopping wetness, because she knew she was throbbing, too. She couldn't control herself ... the wet silk of her panties felt so sexy rubbing against the rough denim of his jeans. She could feel both textures at once, against her entire vulva. She wanted to feel his cock against her, bare skin on bare skin, but this was simply too amazing to stop. Later ...

She writhed and panted and moaned, loving the feel of his hardness, the quivering muscles of his abdomen and biceps and hands, and she was quivering too, climbing unbelievably toward a release when he hadn't even touched her intimately. Her head fell backward and he immediately took advantage by kissing and licking and sucking her throat. She jerked when he bit her lightly -- the sensation was so intense, she could feel it like an electrical shock all the way down to her toes -- and she ground herself against him even faster, harder, though she would not have thought that possible.

Wanting, needing to feel his skin, she pushed both hands beneath his t-shirt, her hips never ceasing their frantic movement. She scraped her nails desperately against his chest, against his erect nipples, and he bucked beneath her with the sexiest groan she'd ever heard in her life.

~~~~~~~~~

Spike was sure he'd embarrass himself any moment. He'd never cum in his jeans before, and he didn't plan to start now. But Buffy was making it damned hard. Heh. It was hard, all right. But he focused on her pleasure ... she was making the sexiest little mewling noises. He was pretty sure she was close to orgasm, and he was determined to push her over the edge.

"Yes, pet ..." he crooned in her ear between licks and nibbles. He blew lightly, and she shivered, grinding herself harder against his erection. "So beautiful ... so sexy ... want to see you cum, sweetheart ... want to make you cum so hard ... you're driving me crazy ... making me so hard ... want to be inside you, pet ... want to thrust into you ... so wet and hot and sweet ..." He was panting now, victim to his own arousing words, but she was going wild in his arms.

She grabbed his head in both hands and kissed him forcefully, thrusting her tongue into his mouth in a desperate invasion. He returned the kiss in kind, plunging into her moist warmth again and again as he held her hips, encouraging her rotations against him, bucking his hips up against her in helpless need, until finally she threw her head back and keened loudly, shuddering and shaking and trembling in his arms as she came.

After a moment, all tension left her body, and she collapsed against him, still quivering, her heart still racing. "Oh god," she murmured, almost incoherently. "Oh god, Spike." She huddled bonelessly in his arms as he leaned over to grab a blanket off the floor and pull it over her in his lap, then held her tightly, pressing gentle kisses to the top of her head.

Suppose she'll get up and run out again now, Spike thought. And I can have myself a nice long wank. Well ... actually ... probably won't take long. Not after hearing her scream like that. He smiled a small, satisfied smile. He ran a hand gently over her back, quieting her as her trembling began to lessen.
After a few moments, she pulled away slightly, and Spike schooled his features to appear unaffected by her rejection after such an intimacy. "S'pose you'll need to be gettin' back, pet," he smiled gently.

Buffy smirked at him. What's that about?

"Oh, no, mister. I'm not done with you yet." And with those words, she reached down one hand to grasp his hard cock through his jeans. Spike's mouth dropped open and he just stared at Buffy for a moment.

Then he threw back his head and laughed.

Buffy's hands were reaching for the buttons on Spike's jeans when he grabbed both her wrists. "Careful, pet," he hissed, "or this could be over in about two seconds."

"Mmmmm ..." Buffy purred in his ear, "Try to hold out as long as you can, Spike, 'cause I'm hoping to make this last a long ... long ... long time."

Spike closed his eyes and silently prayed for strength. "Buffy ... luv ... why are you doing all this?"

Buffy pulled back slightly, though she remained seated on his lap, and smiled at him. It was the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen, like sunshine in the dark crypt. "I guess we're back to the question game. Okay by me." She urged him to lean forward a bit, then pulled his black t-shirt over his head and rested her warm hands on his bare chest. Spike felt fire radiate from those two handprints on his skin, shooting heat straight to his increasingly desperate cock.

"Why am I doing this?" Buffy mused quietly, watching her hands move slowly over Spike's pectoral muscles to lightly brush his tight nipples. Spike groaned softly and closed his eyes again, tilting his head back in an agony of anticipation. "Why? Because I'm having fun, Spike."

Spike's eyes shot open. "Fun?" he sputtered indignantly.

Buffy playfully wagged her index finger at him, and he felt the loss of her hand against his skin as if he'd lost a limb. "Ah ah ah, Spikey," she chastised. "It's not your turn. My question. Lemme think a sec ..."

After a moment of stroking his chest in apparently random patterns, she suddenly said, "I've got one. Spike ... my question is ... what do you want ... right now?"

"You," he groaned. "Oh, you, Buffy! God, I want you so badly!"

Buffy tilted her head curiously and looked up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought, then shook her head and coyly looked back at Spike. "Nope. Not specific enough. Try again. What specifically do you want me to do?" She shifted slightly in his lap, and Spike frantically grabbed her hips to still her movement, afraid he'd lose control at the slightest provocation. He did not want this to end yet. Especially not before he'd even gotten his jeans off.

"I want ..." Spike was breathless. Bloody ridiculous state for a vampire to be in, but it was true. "I need ... time to ... calm down a bit, pet. ... Need you to ... not touch me ... for a minute."

Buffy obligingly climbed off of his lap and stood before him. He felt suddenly chilled without the incredible heat of her body against his, but at least she wasn't squirming against his erection anymore. She watched him with wide, dark eyes as she said, "If I can't touch you, maybe you can touch me." And then she pulled her blouse over her head and let it drop at her feet. No bra! Holy shit, no bra! God, I wish it wasn't so dark in here!

Spike couldn't blink, couldn't make a sound or formulate a thought, as Buffy pulled her hands up and cupped her breasts together, forming deep cleavage. As she slowly and deliberately bent at the waist, her breasts nearing his mouth, she whispered, "Your question, Spike," and then she brushed one nipple against his lips.

Spike gripped the arms of his chair with both hands, desperately trying to prevent himself from simply grabbing Buffy, throwing her to the floor, and tearing the rest of their clothes off so that he could plunge into her over and over again until they were both sated. But no amount of willpower could prevent his lips from parting to allow Buffy's nipple entrance. He tentatively ran his tongue over her erect nipple, and they both moaned in unison.
"Question, Spike. Or do you want to stop playing?"

Stop? Dear god, they couldn't stop now or he'd be scarred for life! Or unlife ... or undeath ... or whatever ... Not thinking so clearly right now.

"Question?" he rasped against her nipple. "Uh ... okay ..." His mind was reeling, searching for a question, then hit paydirt. "Oh! Got one! What did you mean ..." another slow lick against her nipple, and then Buffy moved to offer him the other one, to which he offered the same lazily thorough treatment. Oh ... right ... question. "What did you mean ..." he murmured against her skin, his cool breath making her moist nipple harden even further, "when you said you were doing this 'cause it's 'fun'?"

Buffy straightened. "Are you saying this isn't fun?" She crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow questioningly.

Oh shit! "No, 'course not! I mean ... yeah, it's fun ... it's more than fun ... it's bloody amazing!" How to dig himself out of this hole? "What I meant, luv, is ... well ... is it just fun?" He hurried to add, "An' it's okay if it is ... was just askin', ya know ..."

Buffy dropped her arms and smiled at him gently. "Honest answer, Spike? I don't know. But what I do know is that fun means a lot more than you seem to think. I mean ... I'm playing, Spike! I'm having fun! Last night and today ... this is ... god, Spike! I feel like me again! Making smart-ass remarks and teasing you and just ... just having fun. And that means a lot to me right now. More than you know. I need it."

Spike growled and pulled her back onto his lap. "Think I can guarantee you're gonna get it, Slayer!" Buffy squealed and giggled, trying to right herself, but then Spike had latched his mouth onto one of her breasts and began sucking and she forgot all about her struggles. She clutched his head to her and groaned low in her throat as she felt his tongue moving against her in rhythm with the delicious suction.

After a moment, she determinedly pulled herself to her feet again, and Spike let her go with a great show of reluctance. Watching his eyes, she removed her shoes and tossed them aside, then slowly unzipped her skirt and let it fall. She stood before him in nothing but the panties that were deeply perfumed by her earlier climax, and smiled.

Spike's cock was sitting up and begging for attention, but at least he wasn't so close to the edge now. He reached for the buttons on his jeans, only to meet Buffy's hands there. She grinned and began unbuttoning him.

When she'd pulled his jeans down to his ankles, she was stopped by his boots. She knelt between his feet and went to work on removing them, then pulled his jeans off, while Spike lifted up to help her.

When he was completely naked, and she knelt between his feet wearing only a pair of skimpy panties, Buffy ran her hands slowly up his legs, then looked into his eyes.

"Spike?" her voice was a bit husky now, and he wondered what she was thinking. Then she answered his unspoken question. "Remember what you were ... imagining ... last night?" The question itself was relatively innocent, but his cock jumped at the memory.

"Yeah." His own voice was deep, rasping.

Buffy ducked her head slightly, as if shy. "Remember the question I asked you?"

Spike frowned slightly in confusion. Her reticence was making this a bit difficult. "Um ... which question, pet?" His cock was twitching in anticipation of whatever she was getting at, but Spike tried to force his voice to remain gently reassuring.

She said softly, "When I asked you ... if ... if you wanted ... to feel ... my mouth on you."

Spike's entire body jerked in reaction. "Oh Jesus!" Taking a deep breath to try to calm himself, Spike said, "Yeah, pet. I remember."

Buffy slowly, delicately stroked her hands up Spike's inner thighs as she whispered, "I want that, too."

Spike clenched his eyes shut, repeating silently, frantically, over and over again, Calm. Calm. Calm. Calm. I'm bloody well calm, now ain't I? Calm. Not gonna cum. Not gonna cum. Calm. Calm. Calm. Calm. Calm. Calm. Calm. ...

~~~~~~~~~

Hesitating a moment, Buffy glanced over at the discarded whipped cream can lying on the floor. Then she turned back to face Spike -- whose lips seemed to be moving in some silent, desperate litany -- and said, "I just want to taste you, Spike. Maybe I'll use the whipped cream next time." And then she leaned over and licked his cock from base to tip in one long, slow stroke, eliciting a strangled moan from Spike. Her tongue lingered at the head, circling, exploring, tasting his pre-cum. "Mmmmm ... you taste soooo good."

The skin of his cock was stretched taut, except for the foreskin, which had pulled back to reveal the swollen head. Buffy paused a moment to admire it ... Spike's cock was really quite beautiful ... but then she couldn't wait to taste him again, and leaned forward once more.

She grasped his shaft in one hand and took the head into her moist mouth. She'd always worried that she wouldn't have enough spit to do this, but that wasn't turning out to be a problem. She'd started salivating just thinking about it.

Sucking gently on the head of Spike's cock, Buffy began stroking her hand up and down his shaft, loving the noises Spike made in response. He sounded so sexy, so turned on, like she was driving him crazy with pleasure. She leaned down to take more of his cock into her mouth, sucking greedily, and Spike's entire body tensed and twitched. She swirled her tongue around him, then began a rhythm ... up, down, up, down ... sometimes also using her hand on his now-slick shaft ... sometimes sucking more exclusively on the head for a few strokes in a row.

As Spike's hips began to move in uncontrollable little thrusts, she increased both her suction and her speed, circling the head luxuriously with her tongue on each up stroke. Spike was panting and moaning, muttering random pleas and curses. "Oh fuck, Buffy ... oh god ... oh my god ... yes, like that, luv ... ahhhh, yes ... yessssss ... ah, slower! slower! ... god, yes ... just want it to last, pet ... oh holy fuck! ... whatever you're doing, pet, don't stop! ... don't stop! ... oh god ... oh god ... Buffy ... so beautiful ... so warm ... so sweet ... please, pet ... like that ... ah, yes! ... god, your tongue! ... god! ... fuck! ... oh fuck! ..."

Lifting her mouth from him for only a moment, Buffy murmured, "Try to hold back, Spike. Make it last." And then her mouth was on him again, relentless.

"Tryin', pet," Spike gasped. "Tryin'! Oh bloody hell that's good!"

~~~~~~~~~

Spike was absolutely certain that he was going to spontaneously combust if he didn't cum soon, but it felt so good that he couldn't stand to let it end. Buffy's mouth on him was so hot, so tight, so wet ... her tongue so agile and enthusiastic. And she kept up that incredible suction seemingly forever, apparently never tiring. Never thought I'd be so grateful for Slayer strength!

And she was making these incredibly sexy little moaning and slurping noises, like she was sucking on the most delicious popsicle ever ... like she loved the taste of him. He'd never heard anything so incredibly hot!

And then -- bloody hell! -- still sucking, still licking, still sliding her lips up and down him -- she reached down to fondle his balls gently, to stroke the skin behind them ... and suddenly his whole body stiffened and he was cumming, howling, arching off the chair as if he'd been electrocuted. It was the hardest he'd ever cum -- it was amazing, incredible, unbelievable -- and he blacked out in the aftermath.

When hazy awareness returned, he found Buffy curled in his lap again, naked. She'd pulled the blanket over them and snuggled her head against his shoulder. Her hair felt soft and silky against his hyper-sensitized skin. Gently ... so gently ... she kissed the side of his neck, and he shivered.

Spike couldn't seem to make his mouth form words, so he just mmmm'd, and felt Buffy's smile against his neck. He could just fall asleep like this, with her warm and soft in his arms. He'd never dreamed anything could feel this precious, this right. It was like a miracle.

"Thank you, Spike," she whispered. Spike made an inarticulate, disbelieving choking noise, and she chuckled lightly. "No, I mean it." Her voice was as warm and comforting as the blanket spread over him, and he slipped nearer and nearer to sleep as she continued murmuring quietly in the dark crypt.
"Thank you for opening up to me, Spike. For helping me open up to you, too. For letting me play."

She was quiet a long moment, lifting one hand to softly stroke his hair. "This is the closest I've felt to anyone since I got back. That's why I was thanking you, Spike. For ... letting me get close, and not pushing me, and ... seeing me. Seeing what I needed."

Her voice was even quieter a moment later, when she repeated, "Thank you, Spike."

And then they both slept.

~~~~~~~~~

Spike was glad they'd gotten to battle several nasty, large demons on tonight's patrol, because he was going crazy with nervous energy. It was bizarre to be walking beside Buffy and acting as if everything were normal.

But this wasn't about him ... this was about what she needed.

If he'd kept his promise to her, if he'd protected Dawn, then Buffy wouldn't have died in the first place. He would never forget that, never forgive himself. And he would do anything to help her now.

He knew things'd been real rough for her since she'd been back, and he was going to do his best to be there for her, give her what she needed. Because she'd actually been letting him help, for whatever reason, and that meant more to him than he could ever explain.

But he didn't fool himself that any of this was about him.

And he wasn't going to put any pressures on her. It wasn't like they were dating, after all. Not like he was going to get to walk with her on that beach on her "perfect date."

Not that he was complaining, of course. Just tossing off with her talking to him, watching him ... that'd been more than he'd ever thought he'd have. And then her kissing him ... her coming, arching, screaming in his lap ... her blowing him, for god's sake!

No, he definitely wasn't complaining.

But he wasn't normally the sort to stand back and wait for a woman to tell him what she wanted, especially when it came to sex. And it was driving him crazy.

Maybe she'd had enough. Maybe she didn't need his ... services ... anymore. Maybe those two nights had been enough to get her past whatever had made her weep in his arms. Maybe she'd already found some other bloke. Maybe she'd already gotten all the help she needed.

Well, what are friends for, right?

Bloody hell. What a pathetic wanker.

~~~~~~~~~

"So last night I played the question game with Dawn and Tara and Willow, and we all stayed up really late and pigged out on ice-cream and Doritos and pizza, and it was really great, ya know? I mean, Dawn really opened up to me, and we all really talked, and I feel like we're all a lot closer now. It feels good. Really good." She was babbling. She knew she was babbling. Note to self: must stop babbling.

Spike didn't respond, continuing to silently scan the cemetery for nasties. He'd been really freakishly quiet during tonight's patrol, just striding around with that duster billowing out behind him like some sort of ... well ... broody vampire. Maybe he was distant because they hadn't seen each other in two days? Or maybe he was confused because she hadn't kissed him hello? She'd been feeling a little shy, after how she'd acted the other night at his crypt. Hello, my name is Buffy, and I'm a nympho!

"Spiiiike," Buffy insisted.

"Yeah?"

"What's up with you tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right. That's why you've barely spoken two words to me for the past three hours."

"We're patrollin', Slayer. Chatterin' tends to alert the beasties."

God, he was fidgeting again, jingling change in his duster pocket. It was driving her nuts. Determined to find out what was bothering him, Buffy grabbed his arm to stop him from walking and jingling. He stopped and turned to look at her.

Spike tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "What's with the manhandling, luv? Can't keep your hands off me?" He smirked.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I see we're back to the question game. Honest answers only. So the answer is ... apparently yes. Guess I am a nympho ho-biscuit."

Spike blinked and sputtered. "Huh? Nympho what-biscuit? And the answer to what is 'yes'?" Well, at least she seemed to have his attention, and he was talking now.

Buffy sighed. "You asked if I can't keep my hands off you."

"An' the answer is 'yes'?"

"And the answer is 'yes'."

Before she even had a chance to react, Buffy was pressed up against Spike's chest, with his arms around her, his hands in her hair, his tongue in her mouth ... all of which combined to have her moaning and arching helplessly against him.

After several long moments, she pulled her mouth away to catch her breath, and Spike directed his attention to her neck, sucking and nibbling and driving her even further insane. "My question," Buffy panted. "Do you think I'm a nympho?"

Spike groaned, "God, I hope so!" and kissed her lips again, his hands beginning to wander up her shirt.

Buffy swatted his shoulder and pouted, "I'm serious, Spike!"

Spike looked into her eyes and said, "Whatever you are, Buffy, you're wonderful and gorgeous and sexy and funny and perfect and any man would be lucky just to have you look at him, let alone touch him. You make me crazy, luv!"

"Yeah, well, the feeling's mutual," Buffy said dryly. They both spun around at the sound of leaves crunching nearby, only to see a large calico cat
weaving its way between the tombstones. Buffy rolled her eyes. "So much for 'beasties.' Guess patrol's done for tonight."

Spike nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So," he ventured casually as they resumed walking, "you headed home?"

"Well, duh! I'm desperately in need of a shower. Eau de patrol is not my first choice of perfume for a date."

Spike choked, "Date?"

Buffy watched the ground intently as they walked. "Well, yeah. Uh ... unless you had something else going on tonight ... I mean, that would be okay ... I could just see you tomorrow, or ..."

"No!" Spike interrupted. "No plans. I mean, except with you. If you want."

"I definitely want." Buffy blushed. "I mean, yeah. Uh ... so, I'll come over to your crypt when I'm done de-stinkifying? In about an hour?"

Spike nodded. "Sure. Yeah. Sounds good. See you then, pet." And Spike abruptly walked away in a different direction.

Weird. Buffy headed home, smiling to herself.

~~~~~~~~~

Three hours later, Spike and Buffy lay side-by-side on a thick blanket on the sand, watching the stars wink in the clear, dark sky. Their earlier awkwardness with each other seemed to have vanished completely.

Once they'd arrived -- much to Buffy's surprise -- at a secluded beach, they'd walked along the water-line for ages, holding hands and talking about nothing in particular, stopping often to wrap their arms around each other and exchange lingering kisses. Despite the comfortable warmth of the night, Spike had built a tidy fire in the sand, beside which they had swayed slowly, dancing to romantic music emanating from a boom box. Spike fed her fresh raspberries with whipped cream, placing them carefully on her tongue. They'd even roasted marshmallows and made s'mores, licking the gooey mess from each other's fingers and laughing.

Buffy couldn't believe Spike had brought all this stuff -- firewood, and blankets, and a boom box, and food, and everything -- she couldn't believe he'd gone through so much trouble to make her dream date come true ... no one had ever gone to so much effort to please her before. A shooting star streaked across the sky, and Buffy quickly made a silent wish. I wonder if Spike made a wish, too?

"Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Only if you want an honest answer, pet."

"If you could be granted one wish, right this minute, what would it be?"

"Mmmmmm ..." Spike's voice was all lazy sexuality, and Buffy felt a rush of heat throughout her body in response. "You'd be kissin' me right now, luv. Showin' me how you like to be kissed."

Buffy grinned, "Your wish is my command," and then she was on him. Spike barely knew what hit him. Her lips were hot and greedy on his, her tongue merciless in its plunder. Spike enthusiastically returned her aggressive kiss ... but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

Buffy had never undressed so quickly before in her life, but she needed to get closer, as close as possible. Within moments, she was naked, and Spike wore only his jeans. She ground her pelvis against his erection, pleased that Spike's hands instinctively clutched her closer in response.

"My turn," he panted in her ear. "My question. An' my question's 'bout the other night. ... Mind if I return the favor?"

Why had he stopped kissing her? Want more kissing! "What are you talking about, Spike?" Buffy asked, trying to recapture his lips with hers. "Return what favor?"

But Spike didn't answer. Nor did his lips return to hers. Instead, he began sliding slowly down her naked body.

~~~~~~~~~

In the light of the nearby campfire, Buffy's skin itself was like flame, flickering with shadows and golden brilliance ... and heat. The unbelievable heat of her seared him inside and out. Spike's cock was already hard and throbbing, but ... this night was for her. All for her. He wanted to be closer and closer, as close as possible to her body, her heart, her heat, everything she was and would be. He wanted to worship her, cherish her, love her forever. He wanted to please not only her body but also her soul.

Brushing a slow trail of feather-soft kisses down her body, Spike paused when he reached her lower abdomen, which twitched at the touch of his cool lips. Buffy was breathing heavily now, intrigued and tantalized by his teasing, as he had intended. He flicked out his tongue for a quick taste of her flat belly, and she moaned.

"I love the taste of your skin, pet. S'like salt and honey. Makes me want to lick every single inch of you."

His hands gently stroked the soft skin of her inner thighs, and Buffy spread her legs obligingly, with a soft whimper of need.

"S'okay," Spike purred reassuringly. "S'okay, luv. Gonna make you feel so good." Her body shivered slightly beneath him as his hands stroked upward to brush oh-so-lightly against her soft curls.

Spike rested his cheek against her pubic mound and inhaled deeply. She smelled of lemony musk and salt and lust and some scent that was uniquely hers. He sighed, "You smell so good, Buffy. Can't wait to taste you, luv. Can't wait to stroke your sweet quim with my tongue." She shuddered at his words, and Spike lowered his head.

His first lick was long and gentle, starting at her opening and sweeping slowly, softly up and over her clit. She tasted lemony and tangy, especially at her warm, wet hole. Delicious. He raised his head momentarily to moan, "You taste as good as you smell, luv. S'wonderful ..." before returning to his task. He knew he'd never get enough of pleasing her like this, and when she moaned softly, he unconsciously ground his aching cock into the blanket in reaction.

Thoroughly licking two of his fingers, Spike proceeded to use them to stroke the delicate skin between Buffy's inner and outer labia. She quietly mmm'd her approval and rotated her hips subtly. Spike then gently stroked the same area with his tongue, and Buffy purred a bit louder.

Spike had always enjoyed this particular act, and with Buffy it was like his own personal version of heaven. His love for her -- and her own responsiveness -- brought all his creativity to the fore. He sometimes used a flat, smooth tongue and sometimes a hard, pointed tongue. He tongued her opening firmly, and her clit with a butterfly touch. He gently sucked her inner labia into his mouth, and gently nibbled and tugged on her outer labia. He lightly circled her clit with his tongue, and carefully pinched the clitoral hood between his fingertips. Spike explored enthusiastically, lapping up Buffy's copious juices and reveling in her increasingly loud moans and sighs of pleasure, the increasingly demanding thrusts and bucks of her hips.
Spike's cock seemed to grow harder and more insistent with every mewl, every moan, every gasp from Buffy's lips as he voraciously licked and sucked and nibbled and teased. After several minutes of this exploration, Spike got an idea. I wonder ... When he reached away, Buffy panted, "Where're you going?"

He smirked up at her. "Din't get any of those raspberries, now did I?"

Buffy gaped. "You're stopping to eat?"

She tried to sit up, but Spike stilled her "Din't say I was stoppin', pet."

With one of the plump, red raspberries in his hand, Spike licked his lips, savoring Buffy's taste, and then returned his attention to her quim. The raspberry was so ripe that it burst easily when pressed against Buffy's pink, swollen labia. Buffy squirmed with pleasure as Spike gently rubbed the pulp all over her moist flesh until her entire sex was dripping blood-red juice.

Spike admired his handiwork a moment, but then Buffy's hands were in his hair, urging him forward, and then his tongue was on her again, tasting the sweet, tangy tartness of her raspberry quim. He licked and sucked everywhere, seeking every last drop of the delicious combination of flavors, while Buffy's hands clutched more and more frantically in his hair.

When her panted moans became almost constant and her head was tossing restlessly from side to side on the blanket, Spike began a steady, firm rhythm with his tongue, up and down, passing over her hard clit each time. Her hips moved desperately beneath him, and he took his cue from their speed.

"Oh god, Spike ... oh my god ... oh my god ... yes ... please ... oh god please ... oh my god please ..."

Continuing his tongue's steady rhythm on her clit, Spike brought his raspberry-stained index finger to Buffy's vaginal opening, causing her to buck up against his mouth and moan loudly. "Please ... yes ... god yes ... oh my god yes ... inside me ... please ..."

Spike had only thrust his finger into her wetness twice before her powerful vaginal muscles clamped down on him and she let out a loud, prolonged scream, her body tensing and arching off the blanket, her thighs closing around his ears, and her fingers nearly tearing his hair from his head.
Her quim throbbed beneath his lips and around his finger, the blood pulsing beneath the surface intoxicating him almost as much as her screams of pleasure had. Spike waited until she seemed to have calmed, and then crawled up to lie close beside her, gently stroking her hair. Her eyes were still closed, her chest still heaving, occasional little satisfied sighs emanating from her open lips.

My love, Spike thought. So bleedin' beautiful.

It was some time later that Buffy finally opened her eyes to find Spike lying on his side, watching her. When she met his gaze, he smiled tenderly and murmured, "Welcome back, sleepin' beauty."

Buffy gently took Spike's face in her hands and gazed into his eyes. "Make love to me, Spike," she whispered. "I want to feel you inside me, want to be even closer to you."

And Spike's entire body went still with shock. Well, almost his entire body.

*Pop*

Okay ... so ... Slayer's unbuttonin' my trousers. Stranger things've happened, right? Well, okay, probably not ...

*Pop*

Eventually I'll wake up an' these last few days'll be just a very long, very wet dream.

*Pop*

Jus' hope that doesn't happen for least another hour or so.

*Pop*

Please please please please please let it not happen for another hour or so. Maybe two. Three? Yeah, three'd be good ...

*Pop*

Jus' in case this is real, should probably give 'er a chance to back out. Otherwise, might find m'self meetin' the sharp end of a stake in the mornin'. Not that it mightn't be worth it ...

"Buffy ... you sure you're thinkin' right, pet? Don't want to do anythin' you'll regret later."

Buffy discarded his jeans and told him matter-of-factly, "Spike, this is not some kind of post-orgasmic insanity. I know I want you. I knew it before we even came out here and you got all ultra-romancey. I knew it yesterday. Even Dawn knew it yesterday!"

Spike yelped, "Dawn?"

"Explanations, later, Spike -- okay? I need you inside me."

"Never been one to deny a lady in need," Spike smirked, but his expression quickly changed to shock and wonder as Buffy straddled him in one smooth motion and sank -- hot and wet and smooth -- down onto his aching cock. "Gaaah!" It felt like his eyes must be bugging out of his head, and he just stared into her face in stunned disbelief while he struggled frantically for control.

Closeness. She's been wantin' comfort an' holdin' an' closeness. That's why she came to me. Not for a fast, hard, sweaty shag. She'll be wantin' it sweet and slow and loving and ... oh bloody hell ... feels so good! ... I can't believe this is happening ...

"Buffy," Spike gritted through clenched teeth, "pet ... luv ... oh god ... don't know as I'm gonna ... be able to go ... gentle an' ... easy ..."

"I don't want you easy, Spike," Buffy smirked down at him, rotating her hips in a motion that wrung a groan from him. Was that a challenge twinkling in her eyes? "On the contrary," she continued, licking her lips provocatively, "I want you hard." For emphasis, Buffy squeezed her vaginal muscles around his erection inside her.

Okay, now that's bloody well IT. Can't expect a bloke to back down after that, can ya? Can't blame a bloke for givin' a lady what she asks for, can ya? Can't ... oh bloody hell! Quit talkin' to yourself, ya stupid git, an' get on with it!

"You want hard, pet? I can give you hard!"

~~~~~~~~~

The next thing Buffy knew, she was flat on her back without quite knowing how she'd gotten that way. Spike's cock was still inside her, and she thrust desperately upward against it, against him, trying to have him deeper, faster, closer.

"Patience, luv," Spike purred in her ear, placing his hands on her hips and holding her still. "There's more'n one kind of hard, ya know." He began thrusting into her, maddeningly slowly, but soooooo deep. And on each stroke, at the point when penetration was deepest, at the point when they were closest, he ground his pelvis against hers ... rubbing her clit obliquely, and driving her nearly insane with want.

Oh my god ... so good ... Spike ... all the way inside me ... filling me ... want more ... want closer, deeper, faster, more!

Resting his forehead against hers, Spike stared deeply into her eyes as he continued his slow, deep, delicious thrusts, his hands still restraining her hips from speeding their rhythm. Buffy whimpered.

"Shhhhhhhh," he whispered, his lips moving across her cheek to caress her earlobe. "Plenty of time for that, pet. No rush ..."

"Yes rush!" Buffy replied desperately. "Yes YES rush! Spike, I want more, need more, need ..." But she momentarily lost her ability to speak when Spike ground against her clit again and she arched instinctively against him. "Oh god, that feels good! Do that again!"

Spike's tongue flicked out to trace the curve of her ear -- oh, tongue! feels so good! mmm ... -- before he quoted her own words back to her, "Your wish is my command, sweetheart," and then began thrusting and grinding in a slow, relentless rhythm, while sucking and licking and nibbling at her ear, her neck, her shoulder, her lips ... everywhere he could reach.

Someone's singing, somewhere. Or is it chanting? Uh ... is that me?

Under her breath, because she barely had any breath to spare, Buffy repeated with each thrust, "Again ... and again ... and again ... and again ... and a ... god ...oh god ... oh my god ... oh yes ... ohgodohgodohmyGOOOOODDDDDDD!" Okay, so that last bit wasn't under her breath. More like a scream, to be honest. Because suddenly the world exploded, and time exploded, and her body exploded, and her brain simply ceased to exist, and all she was ... all that was left of her was throbbing, and heat, and pleasure, and ... wholeness.

And then, slowly, the world began to return, beginning with awareness of her own breathing, and her heartbeat, and sweaty hair in her face, and ... god! ... Spike was still thrusting, slow, slow, slow, so slow, so very slow ... and when she opened her eyes, he was gazing back at her, and there was something there, something in his eyes, something drawing her in ... and she kissed him ... lips, tongues, tongues, yes, mmmmmmmmmm ...

~~~~~~~~~

Pulling his mouth free, Spike mused teasingly, "Now, see, that's one kind of 'hard' ... but -- now that I think on it -- I don't think it's the kind you were after, pet. But I aim to please, so I'm glad to give it another go, see if I can do a bit better this time."

He rolled them over, pulling her on top of him so that they were back to the position in which they'd started. His hands on her hips, Spike gently urged her up, then down, then up again, until she started picking up his rhythm. "Now, how 'bout you show me what kinda 'hard' you were after, an' I'll do my best to oblige."

Resting her hands on Spike's shoulders, Buffy sat up and shook out her hair, then sat up straighter to lift her hands to smooth the golden strands away from her face. The movement caused her breasts to lift and bounce tantalizingly, and Spike's cock twitched and jerked inside her in reaction to the sight.

"Mmmm ..." Buffy smirked. "You liked that, did you?"

Spike groaned his agreement, then lifted his hands to caress and knead the soft, full mounds. Buffy's head fell back, her hair cascading behind her to tickle his thighs, and the movement of her hips sped up.

Guess now's a good time to thank my lucky stars for vamp stamina, Spike thought, 'cause otherwise I'd've popped already. He glanced up at the sky above him. Now, those've definitely gotta be my lucky stars, 'cause I have never gotten so lucky as tonight!

Buffy raised her head again and looked down at him, then licked her lips and ran her hands over Spike's smooth chest. Still riding him, she leaned down to suck one of his nipples into her hot mouth, then suckled strongly ... then bit down.

Spike bucked beneath her. "Bloody hell!" Bloody chit's gonna kill me!

She gave him a siren smile. "You like?"

"Oh yeah," he panted. "I like."

Buffy braced her hands against Spike's chest and began riding him even harder and faster, biting her full lower lip and watching his face. Bloody bloody BLOODY hell ... this isn't gonna last much longer!

Spike slid one hand purposefully across Buffy's lower abdomen, but Buffy shook her head slightly. "I'm too sensitive," she panted.

"Trust me," Spike replied, and slowly slid his hand further down, rotating his wrist so that his fingers rested sideways on her lower belly, his palm covered her curly pubic hair, and the heel of his thumb rested just ...

"Oh my god!" Buffy cried.

Yup, just the right spot. Spike smiled slightly, and slowly rotated the heel of his thumb, massaging Buffy's clit in gentle circles as she slammed herself down on his cock harder and harder with each stroke. She threw her head back again, her mouth open and gasping, the muscles in her entire body tensing.

So bloody beautiful. So incredibly fucking bloody beautiful!

Her fingernails dug into the muscles of his chest, the pain pushing Spike that much closer ... closer ... closer ... He closed his eyes and focused his attention on his hand rubbing against her, faster now, following the rhythm of her bouncing on his cock ... faster ... faster ... faster ...

And then suddenly her eyes were closed tight, her mouth open wide, her voice shouting joyfully to the night sky ... and the sight of her, the sound of her cumming for him, on him, around him, because of him, triggered Spike's own orgasm, and he found himself bucking uncontrollably up into her wet warmth, his back arching off the blanket, his toes curling into the sand, his voice joining her sweetly uncontrolled calls with his own hoarse howl of pleasure.

Afterward, Spike lay panting with Buffy collapsed limply on top of him. He carefully rolled them over, so that they lay side-by-side facing each other.
And he held her close.

Bloody unbelievable ... bloody fucking unbelievable ... better than any bloody fantasy known to man ...

His hand slid up along her smooth thigh, into the dip of her waist, then back up over that incredibly sexy curve of hip.

Buffy's face emerged from a tangle of blond hair to eye him dubiously. "Um ... aren't you supposed to roll over and fall asleep right about now?"

"I'm a vampire, pet. We're nocturnal, remember? I'm just ... gettin' ... started ..."

~~~~~~~~~

Quite some time -- and an indeterminate number of orgasms -- later, Spike lay holding Buffy close to his chest and asked, "Now, what was that you were sayin' 'bout the Nibblet knowin' ... ?"

"Well, um ... I told you we all played the question game last night. And ... well ... I was honest. That's the rule -- right? So ... well ... they pretty much know what's going on."

Spike glanced at her in alarm. "All of 'em? They know everything?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I didn't give details, you big dolt!" She leaned over to kiss his lips. "But, otherwise, yeah. They know."

Spike lay in stunned silence.

"My turn to ask a question," Buffy said. "Do you wish I hadn't told them?"

"Only if I end up dusted tomorrow by some rogue vigilant-o-Scoob."

"Not gonna happen. I'll guard your luscious muscley goodness with my life," Buffy grinned at him.

Spike huffed, "I can bloody well look after myself, Slayer!"

Buffy chuckled and patted his arm, "Now you just keep telling yourself that, Spikey," then grinned mischievously at his responding growl.

"My turn to ask," Spike continued, as if Buffy had not questioned his manly manliness. "So ..." He looked up at the stars. "What'd you tell 'em?"

"The Scoobies?"

"No, pet. The Warren Commission. Of course the bloody Slayerettes!"

"That being with you makes me happy ... and I say 'yay' to happy Buffy ... so I plan to keep on being with you and keep on being happy."

Spike lay silently, staring at the sky for a long moment, then turned to look at Buffy with tears glistening in his eyes. He kissed her tenderly, but said nothing.

"My question," Buffy said, and Spike lay down on his back again, hands beneath his head, eyes watching the stars. "Why were you Silent Fidget Vampboy during patrol tonight?"

Spike grimaced slightly and answered, "Was afraid maybe I'd already 'helped' enough and you might cut me loose. Didn't want to push you, though, by askin'."

Buffy leaned over to kiss him soundly. "Well, have I set your mind at rest?"

Spike glanced down his body pointedly. "Not only my mind, Slayer. I think you've actually worn me out!" He paused a moment. "Well, for the next coupla minutes, anyway." He winked and smirked at her.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Your ego is even bigger than your ... mouth." She grinned and he stuck out his tongue.

Then his face got serious again. "My question, pet. Why were you cryin', that first night you sat in my lap?"

Buffy smiled tenderly at him. "Everything's been so hard ... I was feeling so lost and alone ... like no one understood, like no one accepted me, like they couldn't let me just be me, especially if that meant something like crying. My face just hurt from smiling all the time. My heart hurt even worse. But you ... you let me hurt, Spike. You let me cry. And then ... I guess you sort of helped me smile again."

Spike watched Buffy's eyes for a long time, then leaned over to kiss her very, very softly.

Several minutes passed while they both simply watched the stars above them. Eventually, Spike suggested reluctantly, "We should rinse off in the water 'fore we go, pet. Sand's a bitch if it gets into the wrong places."

Buffy reached out to intertwine her fingers with Spike's. "And then will you come home with me tonight?"

Spike propped himself up on his side and looked into her eyes. "You sure, luv?"

"Well, my room's a lot more comfortable than your crypt ... though I seem to remember I slept pretty well in your lap the other night."

"Buffy, luv, I'd be happy to hold you in my arms every night for the rest of your life."

She gently stroked his cheek and said, "Let's just start with tonight, okay?" Spike kissed her softly and nodded.

After a few more moments, they both stood and stretched well-exercised muscles, then waded into the water hand-in-hand. After they'd very thoroughly assured themselves that they were both completely and utterly sand-free in the most important places, they began packing everything back into the car.

"Don't go forgettin' those raspberries and whipped cream," Spike said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm sure we can find some use for 'em later tonight."

Buffy laughed and kissed him -- hard -- and they then proceeded to break several speed limits on the trip back to Revello Drive. They both agreed it was for a very, very good cause.

~Fin~

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