Disclaimer: Can you sing the refrain along with me by now? Come on, join in! I don't own anybody. I'm poor as dirt and not making any money off of this. Joss owns all. Savvy? ~_^

Summary: Trapped together in an icy prison, Buffy and Spike find one way to turn up the heat. PWP set in an
AU S5. *COMPLETED, December 2003* NC17

Author's Note: The first of many 'Christmas-themed' pieces for December. Yes, there is a vaguely Christmas theme in this one. Cold? Okay, fine, so it's a very thin thread... At least I tried though, right? ~_^ It's just pointless smut. Set in a happy late S5 world where 'Crush' never happened, Ben walked out of his house one day and got hit by a bus so Glory never showed up, Joyce never got sick, and Buffy's secretly as madly in love with Spike as he is with her. ^_^ There seems to be a common theme to all my fluffy rewrites of S5 lately... Hmm... ~_^ Okay, I'm shutting up now. Here's your snarky fun-smut:

Zero
by Kantayra

“Duck, you crazy vampire!” Buffy cried out in exasperation just as the weather witch fired at him. She dashed across the lawn in a vain effort to push him out of harm’s way before the blast struck.

Spike started in response, catching sight of the Slayer running towards him at a furious pace, turning his head just in time to see… Oh, bugger.

Spike moved…

Buffy leapt…

And Willow screamed out “Arcete!”

The icy blast struck, instantly freezing the world solid. Icy crystals shot up from the ground at an alarming rate, creating a massive, impenetrable block of ice as high as a house. Directly where Buffy and Spike had been just instants before.

“Goddess…” Tara breathed, voice shaking.

Willow trembled as well. Had that last protection spell worked? Please, let that last protection spell have worked… “W-We need to…” Willow began with a gulp.

“Right,” Tara agreed, taking Willow’s hand as they combined their powers against their foe while she was still weakened from the energy that ice attack had drained from her…

* * *

The view that Buffy and Spike had seen was much different and much, much more terrifying. A bright blue flash had Spike shielding his eyes and Buffy squinting right as she tackled him. And then an subzero chill surrounded them as the air itself crystallized, moving ever inward and threatening to crush them, until…

A hum and a flash of green light as the ice spell struck against the barrier Willow had erected at the last moment. For an instant, the blue and green forces warred before the ice finally gave up, stopping abruptly only a few feet away and leaving Buffy and Spike a hemisphere of little more than eight feet in diameter to move around in.

Buffy fought back the instinctive panic at being trapped in such a small enclosure. Cautiously, she propped herself up on her hands and rose above Spike’s body. “I think we’ve got a teensy problem,” she admitted in an uncharacteristically meek voice.

Spike sat up as well and looked at the solid blue-silver walls that surrounded them on all sides. The ice was so thick, they couldn’t even catch a shadow of the outside world beyond it. Dim light from the surrounding street lamps passed through over a dozen feet of ice to give the two of them just enough bluish light to see each other. “Well, at least it can’t get any worse,” Spike began.

And, as if just waiting for someone to say those words, Willow’s shield failed at that moment. Instantly, the warm bubble of air that had been trapped around Buffy and Spike began to cool, and Buffy suddenly realized that this could fast become a life-or-death situation.

Spike watched as she rose to her feet and tried not to flinch inwardly when she had to duck over to keep her head for hitting on the roof of their prison. He had a bit of a thing about small spaces, actually. Probably the natural result of having to crawl one’s way out of one’s grave.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy centered herself and spun in a flying kick, trying to crack the wall in front of her. Her foot bounced off as if the blow had been nothing, and not even a chip formed in the impenetrable wall. Buffy gulped.

“The others will defeat Celeste,” she said calmly as she sat back down, fists clenched tight as she fought down the rising panic within her. “Then, they’ll find a way to melt this—”

“Prob’ly manage to singe me with a flame-thrower while they’re at it,” Spike grumbled under his breath.

“—And I won’t freeze to death in an icy cavern, trapped with the most annoying vampire in the world,” Buffy concluded as if she hadn’t even heard him. “Oh, and before I forget…” She fixed him with a scowl. “This is all your fault.”

He gasped in sudden outrage at that. So much for the ‘moment of shared peril’ bonding. “Never asked for you to dive after me,” he retorted defensively. “If you didn’t have much a bloody hero complex, you’d be safe outside where it’s nice and toasty.”

Buffy gasped in disbelief. “You’re insulting me for trying to save your sorry hide?” she demanded angrily, fists clenched with anger now rather than worry. “Well, guess what? I’m completely with you. I don’t know why I even bothered. My life would be ten times easier if you just exploded into dust. It must’ve been temporary insanity that made me want to save you! It’s the only explanation!”

His blue eyes narrowed to icy slits and he leaned in angrily, his face only inches from hers. “’m thinkin’ that’s the first remotely intelligent comment that’s ever come out of those glossy lips ‘f yours. Just can’t let a bloke fend for himself, can you? Hafta have everyone followin’ you around on a leash, doin’ your bidding, and—”

Buffy zoned out halfway through his rant. Because ever since he’d made that comment about her lips, his eyes had been fixed on them pointedly. And then the things he was saying… Okay, was she crazy for wishing just for a second that she could order this aggravating pain in the ass around? Have him in any way she wanted him? The possibility made her shiver in anticipation. Oh, wait, that was the freezing ice cave she was trapped in.

“—never happy unless—” Spike’s tirade had, of course, continued nonstop all throughout her happy little trip to fantasy land where that busy mouth of his would finally be put to good use. He did stop when she shivered and began rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms for warmth, however. “You all right, Slayer?” he asked with a tinge of concern.

“Fine,” she insisted in a tight voice, worry taking over once more. And not a little embarrassment at the direction her thoughts had gone. She’d noticed that happening more and more over recent months…

“Right then.” He recognized falsely-stoic Buffy when he saw her and rolled his eyes.

She gave him an annoyed look. “You know, a gentleman might offer his coat,” she pointed out, shivering again, “especially since vampires can’t feel the cold…”

His eyes flashed. “First off, ‘m not a ‘gentleman’,” he informed her with a cold sneer, “by any stretch of the imagination.” Methinks he doth protest too much… “Second, vampires can’t feel the cold? Shows how much you know, Summers,” he grumbled, tightening his duster around himself.

This last fact was a revelation to her. Until now, she’d been rather under the impression that he was sitting pretty while she was in imminent danger of freezing to death. But now that she looked closely, she noticed that he was trying to suppress near constant shivers and the tips of his ears and lips were turning blue. “Spike…?” she asked, suddenly worried.

“The way I figure it,” he began slowly, not quite daring to look her in the eyes, “you’ve got it easy right about now. Walking furnaces is what you humans are. Don’t need outside warmth to keep from freezin’ to death. Now, vampires… We’re a different story. Our temperature can shoot down in minutes. Got nothin’ to keep us warm…”

“Are you cold?” she demanded, inching closer. “What’ll happen if—?”

“You ever tried to kill a vampire by freezin’ it?” he asked her curiously, fixing her with blue eyes that she suddenly realized were…frightened. He was frightened, terrified. Spike was afraid. The realization shocked her nearly speechless.

“N-No…”

“You have some common decency, then,” he concluded. “’Though I s’pose fire’s just easier all around.” He let out a convulsive shiver, and instantly she was beside him, catching him in her arms, holding him close against her and rubbing her fingers against the cold tips of his ears, trying to warm him up.

“What’s happening to you?” she demanded, just as terrified as he was for a moment.

He tensed in her arms for a minute before allowing himself to relax. Oh, now this proved just how warped the Powers really were. After all his months of fantasizing about being close to her like this, it finally had to happen now? When he was most probably going to die in the most painful way imaginable? And just out of some heroic sense of hers that tried to save him even though she couldn’t stand his unliving guts? Like he needed another painful irony at the moment…

“D-Don’t,” he tried to pull away. “You need your own warmth.”

She spotted the over-dramatically chivalrous move for what it was. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes. “Did it ever occur to you that you’re warmer that the air? You’re keeping me warm, too…”

He relaxed at that. “Wanna see if the duster can fit around the both of us? You’re a scrawny li’l thing, after all…”

“Scrawny?!” she protested in outrage. And then the black leather was wrapped around her as his strong arms – a comfortable room temperature – slipped around her waist. It wasn’t often that snuggling up to a vampire was nice and warm like this, and Buffy savored every moment she could get, anger forgotten to lazy comfort. “Mmm…you’re warm…” she murmured against his ear, her warm breath blowing on the rapidly chilling flesh.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and forced himself not to breathe in her scent. Breathing would just bring the chill of the air inside him as well, hastening the nasty process. But, oh, was he tempted… “You’re the hot one,” he countered, tucking up his legs so those were pressed against her heat as well. His salvation…

Buffy – unhindered by the same concerns – breathed deeply of leather and tobacco and rum. His normal intoxicating scent was dulled by the chill environment, but she savored what little of it she could get. The hard vampire body practically curled up into the fetal position in her arms was another bonus. “Better now?” she whispered softly against his hair.

“Mmm…” he murmured contentedly, tightening his duster around them.

Buffy bit her lip, looked up at the blue-tinged ice above them, sighed, checked her watch, sighed again, and snuggled a bit closer to Spike just for good measure. “So… What does happen to vampires in the cold?” she asked, desperate for an icebreaker. And a good slap upside the head for that terrible pun.

“You don’t wanna know.” Stoic Spike was back.

“Gee, really? ‘Cause I thought the fact that I asked meant that I did want to know,” she snapped back sarcastically. At least, she had snarky banter to keep her entertained now, though. Mmm…snarky banter while cuddled up with Spike… Her mind went to a very happy place. Er…cuddled up purely for heat’s sake, the Slayer part of her mind insisted. And tried really hard not to dwell on the hard six-pack of abs her hand currently rested upon.

“Christ, Slayer,” he retorted, “you ever tried pullin’ that stake outta your ass?” God, he couldn’t handle this. Her warm breath was stirring the hairs around his ear when she spoke, and her pert little breasts were pressed right into his chest, all soft and sensual-like. If she didn’t just shut up with the sexy, sassy remarks, his battle against the monster in his jeans would be over and, oh, wouldn’t that be fun to explain?

Buffy let out an outraged exclamation. “Excuse me for trying to make conversation,” she shot back. “But if you just want to lie there and brood, by all means—”

“I. Do. NOT. Brood!” Spike practically roared, shaking the ice cavern around them.

“Oh, brilliant,” Buffy rolled her ears. “You’re gonna save us by yelling real loud?”

“That’s it!” Spike exclaimed. “’d rather have my limbs freeze off one by one and watch them crumble to dust than spend another moment listenin’ to your prissy voice.” He, of course, made no move away from the warm, delectable Slayer body in any way.

Buffy’s eyes widened at that. “Th-That happens?” she asked, abruptly concerned for him once more.

He humphed and tucked his head comfortably in the crook of her neck. “The real kicker is that the head and heart are last to go. Get to watch your entire body start to fall away, movin’ ever inward until…”

“Stop!” Buffy jumped despite herself.

He fixed her with a cocky smirk. “Told ya you didn’t wanna know,” he countered proudly, savoring his ‘I told you so’.

“Six much?” Buffy exclaimed in disgust.

He snorted. “Don’t blame me for tryin’ to warn you.” His eyes narrowed as he leaned in what he hoped was a menacing manner. In truth, he just wanted to feel that hot, sweet breath on his lips, even if this was the only way he could manage it.

Buffy scowled and leaned in as well, and…

Completely by accident, their noses brushed in a little Eskimo kiss. Buffy’s cheeks instantly flamed red as she jerked back. And Spike did the cutest little thing where he got this shy smile on his face and looked down, one hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

Buffy practically moaned aloud at how adorable he looked. It made her just want to hug him and make it all better. Well, the first part was no problem… Her hand wrapped more tightly around his back and began to rub little circles into the lukewarm flesh there.

He froze (metaphorically, of course) in surprise at that before he slowly began to reciprocate, trailing little symbols of pleasure across her body.

She bit back a little groan when she felt herself becoming very aroused at his actions. Trying for casual, she managed a falsely bright smile. “Friction is good for keeping warm, right?” she offered.

He nodded, willing to accept the excuse for his own eager groping of her body. “Right,” he agreed with a little gulp.

Buffy buried her head in his shoulder and rubbed one hand up and down his back while the other wrapped around one well-muscled forearm and stroked lightly. Of its own volition, her right foot began to run up and down the back of his calf and her body began to rock lightly against his. God, she felt downright hot now…

Spike nuzzled deep into the pale gold of her hair, and the hand stroking her side dared to brush ‘accidentally’ over the curve of her breast. She didn’t protest. So, he tried it a second time. Still no complaint. He made that his hand’s regular path, starting at her hip and moving right up to where the hard point of her nipple poked through her silken blouse. His other hand stayed innocently on her arm, fighting away gooseflesh…or maybe causing it, he wasn’t quite sure. His body was moving slowly against hers now, rocking in a rhythm that made the confined space under his duster seem feverishly hot. Aw yeah, a bloke could get used to this…

“Spike?” she finally half-whispered, half-moaned against him.

“Buffy?” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

She flushed at the use of her given name. He called her that so rarely, but her name always sounded wonderful coming through his lips, like sweet honey… She shook her head back to the matter at hand. “Um…” Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to remember what that was at the moment.

“Got somethin’ you wanted to say to me, pet?” he asked suggestively, eyes dropped pointedly to her mouth. The tip of his tongue flicked out to moisten his own full lips, and for an instant Buffy was mesmerized by the dexterity of the muscle.

“Uh…” Her mind desperately scrambled for some way out of this very precarious position she’d gotten herself into. And why, oh why, was her body still moving against his? “Um…lighter!” she finally exclaimed in delight.

He frowned. He’d really been expecting something along the lines of ‘take me, you fiendishly seductive vampire!’ “Pardon?” he blinked.

Buffy was impressed. Her random mental flailing had actually brought up a good point. “Do you have your lighter?” she repeated more confidently this time.

He shook his head and tried to bite down his disappointment. Of course she doesn’t want you, you stupid wanker. All you’ll ever be to her is the cheap hired help. Wouldn’t even touch you if she didn’t need to live… “No. Got some matches, though,” he conceded.

Buffy frowned. For an instant, Spike’s eyes had been so deep and blue and passionate, and then it was like a steel trap had snapped shut, and his voice had turned icier than their prison. “W-We could light a fire…” she began. “Light some of the grass. Too bad Willow’s not here to provide more fuel.”

He dug around in his jean pocket and pulled out a squashed matchbook. “Here.” He tossed it at her childishly. “Sorry I can’t be of more use to you. No, wait. I’m flammable; might as well light me up to save your precious self.” Sulking, he flipped over, turning his back to her.

Buffy blinked. Random mood shift, thy name is Spike… “I’m not going to set you on fire,” she insisted, half laughing at the absurdity of the idea.

He refused to respond.

“Spike?” She tugged at his shoulder.

He just brushed her off and turned back to his sulking.

She felt a good sulk settle into her bones, too. I mean, what was this problem? They’d been all warm and contented and snuggling, and then he’d just gotten all pissy for no reason. Stupid, annoying vampire, making her want to lick him all over…

“Fine. If you wanna be that way…” she grumbled. With an audible humph, she turned her back on him as well.

He suffered in silence for a minute, forcing down his body’s urges to return to her warm embrace. Their backs were pressed together the way they were now, and the heat almost did him in. But there was no way he was caving in this time, not going to be her little vamp puppy that panted around waiting for a pat on the head…

Buffy rolled her eyes as he began to make annoyed sounds and shifted uncomfortably against her back. “You know, Angel knew how to brood quietly, at least,” she said pointedly.

“’m not brooding,” he insisted in a tight, angry voice.

She let out an exasperated exclamation. “You so are! We’re actually having a civilized conversation for once, and then you have to go off in a childish huff.”

“’m not childish,” he retorted automatically.

“Oh yeah, ‘yes, you are’ ‘no, I’m not’ – that’s really mature,” she rolled her eyes.

“Fine. ‘m a childish, brooding, worthless thing. Now, leave me alone.” He pulled the duster up over his head.

And Buffy suddenly got the odd picture of them as an old married couple, arguing and bickering in bed about the most insignificant things, and… She shook the thought off. In that analogy, the solution to this problem was only too clear, and she wasn’t about to go kissing vampires that never made any moves on her no matter how much she hinted she wouldn’t be adverse, just to make them feel better.

And we prove once again beyond a shadow of a doubt how much Buffy sucks at dealing with men, she decided with an inward sigh. She turned over so that she was facing his back again and studied the strong hints of muscle through his shirt.

“You cold?” she finally asked softly.

“A bit,” he mumbled reluctantly.

She sighed. “Come back here?”

His resolve wavered for a second before he finally caved in grudgingly. After all, getting himself very painfully dusted didn’t prove anything.

Relief practically flooded Buffy’s body when he slipped back into her arms. She murmured against him and snuggled back comfortably in.

The smallest hint of a smile tugged at his lips at the Slayer using him as a big vampire-shaped pillow. After all, irony and all that. Bout of self-pity fading, he squeezed the small blonde in his arms lightly. “So…how long d’you think we’ll be stuck here?” he asked casually, feeling warm enough now that he dared to breathe in the floral scent of her shampoo…or maybe that wasn’t such a good idea since certain portions of his anatomy responded a bit too readily to the smell…

“Dunno,” she shrugged. He wants to get away from me already? A hurt inner voice protested. What, am I repulsive or something?

“Think Red’s taken out Celeste by now?” he pressed.

Great. He’s counting down the minutes we’re still stuck here. “Probably. Unless the gang lost. In which case we’ll freeze to death in this godforsaken glacier,” she added glumly.

“Always the optimist, I see,” he shot back.

“Jerk.”

“Bint.”

“Aggravating…”

“Holier-than-thou…”

“Obnoxious…”

“Stuck-up…”

“Stubborn…”

“Stubborn…”

“Gorgeous…”

“Beautiful…”

A simultaneous pause when they each realized their own mistake…and then the other’s a second later…

Spike’s voice promptly dropped to a heady whisper. “Did you say ‘gorgeous’, luv?” he purred against her cheek.

“Y-You called me ‘beautiful’…” she insisted in a shaky voice.

“Well…yeah…” Of its own volition, his hand reached up to brush back a lock of blonde hair from her forehead. She shivered in response – although not due to the cold in the slightest. His body began moving against her, though, trying to warm her with the friction.

She let herself gasp just a little bit this time. “You are, you know,” she murmured.

“Hmm?” His nose was buried comfortably against her pulse-point now, eyes shut lazily as he savored the moment.

“Gorgeous,” she clarified.

“Mmm…” A deep, rumbling purr sounded through his chest at that, and the war against his throbbing erection was finally lost.

Buffy’s eyes widened when she suddenly felt something long and hard pressing against her inner thigh. “S-Spike…?”

“Mmm?”

God, how unfair was it that he could purr like that? Honestly, a girl couldn’t concentrate with all those wonderful vibrations… “It kinda occurs to me that if we don’t get out of this alive…” she began.

His purr halted for a minute as he listened to her.

“…There are some things worth doing first…” Her fingers reached up to run through his hair seductively.

“Such as?” His lips not-so-accidentally brushed her jaw-line.

“Well, first off,” she began, a teasing light in her eyes, “no one should go out with cold ears.”

He blinked in confusion and then gasped as she leaned in and took one lightly chilled earlobe between her lips and nibbled on it. “Buffy…” he whispered against her hoarsely.

She twisted gently with her teeth before pulling back. “The other one cold?” she asked coyly.

“No, but yours is lookin’ a bit blue,” he countered before nibbling at her own ear and nuzzling her neck, causing her body to rub up more sensuously against his. “That better?” he asked with a satisfied smile.

She nodded numbly. “Y-Your neck looks cold…” Her mouth was instantly on his throat, tasting that bobbing Adam’s Apple that had teased her for so long with its smooth, pale skin.

He groaned and wrapped his arms tight around her, rolling them over until he was on top, both still hidden under the blanket of his duster.

“That feel good?” she whispered.

“Fuck, yeah!” he exclaimed.

“Not cold?”

“Well…” He fixed her with mischievous blue eyes. “Am feeling a tad chilled,” he countered, sticking out the tip of his tongue and pointing to it. “Right about there…”

“We’ll just have to fix that, then, won’t we?” Buffy countered with a delighted smile. Mmm, finally get to taste those Spike lips without the weird spell…

One hand threaded into his spiky platinum hair, pulling him down to her as she brushed her lips cautiously against his. He let out an anticipatory little gasp at the first brush, and his breath felt warm in the otherwise frigid environment. Still warmed up from the California nights.

Buffy hadn’t thought she could get any hotter, but that did it. Her lips pressed back into his feverishly, slanting against his at every angle she could manage, searching for the deepest penetration she could get. His lips parted eagerly at her enthusiasm, tongue sliding against hers as they finally tasted each other fully, hands now intentionally caressing as their hips began to grind together in a dry hump.

“Christ!” Spike gasped out when she finally pulled away for breath, panting unnecessarily himself.

“Lips all warmed up now?” she teased, fire in her eyes.

“Better try that again just to make sure,” he countered before clutching her roughly to him and plundering her mouth with his tongue.

Buffy’s cries of pleasure were muffled against him. God, she’d seen the burning passion in him before and only too often had she wished it would be directed at her. But this… This was wonderful and consuming and almost overwhelming and so, so sweet. And all she wanted was more…

“Spike?” she whispered, fighting to pull away from his hungry lips long enough to talk.

“Hmm?” he muttered, leaning in to kiss her again.

Her fingers clutched in his silky hair, and she managed to redirect him to her throat long enough to get a few sentences out. “Still cold,” she mock-complained.

“’ll fix that,” he teased, trying to capture her lips again.

“Not there,” she hastily amended. Off of his questioning look, she amended slightly, “Not only there…”

“Mmm,” he nuzzled her neck fondly. “Where, sweetness?”

She gulped. “Inside,” she finally confessed in a voice barely above a whisper.

His erection thrust up hard against her inner thigh in response. She sighed, but then his eyes widened and he stopped moving against her…

She groaned in loss. “God, do you try to drive me crazy?” she complained.

“Me?!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “You’re the one who…just…said…” His eyes glazed over at the thought. “Shouldn’t play with a bloke like that,” he concluded, shaking off the x-rated fantasies that had filled his mind.

“See? This is the driving me crazy part,” she concluded, leaning in so that her lips brushed his, sparking a fire between them. “And who said I was playing with you?” she inquired coyly.

He groaned at that, and one hand slid between their bodies. Skilled fingers circled her breast, feeling its weight before they drifted down her stomach, over her hip and between her thighs. She let out a husky breath against his cheek when he managed to find her clit through her jeans, flicking the hard nubbin roughly.

“Don’t start this is you’re not ready to finish it, Slayer,” Spike murmured in her ear, picking up the pace of his caresses.

“D-Don’t stop,” she pleaded raggedly, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “I couldn’t stand it if you stopped, not this time…”

His other hand fumbled with the button of her jeans, flicking it open. “Can’t take it anymore,” he whispered, lips leaving a blazing trail across her throat, up her jaw, “wantin’ you every minute but not being able to touch…”

She whimpered, and her knees came up to cradle him between them. Emboldened by his own moves, her hands slid down his back and beneath the waistline of his jeans. She squeezed the tight globes of his ass once, pushing his erection up against her belly, before her hands moved forward. One lightly brushed his cock, while the other began an equally needy attempt to unfasten his own jeans.

“You’re always so close,” she murmured, “but just out of reach. Want to strangle you and want to kiss you, and…oh god! It’s so hard, always trying to fight…”

With a hiss of triumph, he got her jeans open. His thumbs hooked under her panties and slid both items of apparel down her thighs and shins. She bucked her hips up to assist him.

“So beautiful,” he moaned, “always imagined this…but never thought…” Her pants caught on her ankles, and he let them be. Didn’t want his Slayer to get too cold, now did he?

“Not fair,” she pouted, finally unzipping his own zipper and pulling him out for her hungry gaze, “always something keeping me from you…”

His eyes rolled back in his head when she began stroking him. God, this was better than every wet-dream he’d ever had… “So hot,” he gasped. “Need to feel you, surrounding me…”

“God, want you so bad,” she whimpered in agreement, shifting uncomfortably in her pants. They were still wrapped around her ankles, making it difficult for her to guide him and hold him tight as he finally settled between her legs. “Been waiting…”

“…So long…”

“…Just need…”

“Fuck!” Spike cried out loud as he pushed the head of his cock easily through her slick folds, seating himself deep within her.

“Yes…” She felt back in limp delight. He felt even better than she’s fantasized he would.

“B-Buffy,” he whimpered, beginning to rock into her, pushing deeper with movement of his hips. One hand caught the back of her head, holding her tightly as his lips plundered hers once more.

Her cry of ‘Spike!’ was muffled by his lips. It actually came out more like “Mmf-mm!” But he seemed to understand and appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. Their tongues tangled wildly, caressing feverishly while their bodies could not. Still wrapped up in the confines of Spike’s duster against the cold, their hips could only move together slowly, protected from the ice’s view by a shield of black leather.

“Christ, Buffy!” Spike gasped out when she pulled back for breath. “You’re so hot…”

“Mmm, you’re the hot one,” she retorted, “driving me mad with desire in those tight t-shirts and jeans, making me just want to eat you up…” She emphasized the point by biting him gently on the neck, and then harder when he responded with obvious pleasure. His hips began moving faster and deeper, striking the pleasure spot far inside her now…

“Always knew it would be like this,” he whispered against her hair, already feeling the explosion of pleasure building within him. “You drive me over the edge like no other…”

“You drive me over the edge,” she shot back. “Half the time I don’t know whether I hate you or l—” Words failed her as the first jolt of wild ecstasy raked through her body. She felt her control slide away, and for an instant she struggled for it, terrified at the emotions that were overwhelming her. But then she just let it go, and…sweet, endless bliss…

Spike froze in awe, the power of her orgasm keeping him trapped deep inside, her internal Slayer muscles pumping him, milking him… “Fuck, yes!” he cried out as he came, vision exploding to black as he flooded her womb. It felt like all his strength flowed into her, leaving him limp and satiated above her. A languid quirk of his lips, and he collapsed on top of her body, spent.

A moment’s silence, and then Buffy slipped from orgasmic paradise to a no less delightful conscious one. She sighed contentedly, shifting her hips slightly so that his still-hard cock was buried deeper inside her, and absentmindedly wondered if she’d died and gone to heaven. She’d heard once that people had wonderful dreams when they were freezing to death. Well, if that was the case, then she never wanted to wake up, consequences be damned.

She began caressing random circles into his back, and her lips played lightly over the material of his t-shirt. Too bad it was so cold; she would’ve loved to strip him down to his full naked glory, like she’d been dreaming of doing for months now…

“Spike?” she whispered softly when he still didn’t stir.

“Mmm?” The response came in a deep purr that resonated through his chest, right down through the tip of his erection and directly into her pleasure center.

She moaned in appreciation before remembering what she had wanted to ask. “You’re not cold, are you?” she inquired softly, nibbling on his ear once again just to make sure.

“Hmm…” he mumbled. “Warmed me right up, you did. My fiery li’l kitten…” He nuzzled her throat affectionately, and his purr deepened in pitch.

Buffy couldn’t help but smile as her fingers trailed through silky platinum hair. Sexually-satisfied Spike was turning out to be quite cute and cuddly. Definitely the sort of thing she wanted to encourage… “Mmm, it feels like a sauna until here, doesn’t it?” she agreed with a soft smile. “I guess all those survival types aren’t kidding about the importance of shared bodily warmth…” She was almost tempted to lift up the corner of the duster and let in some cold air so that they could ‘warm each other up’ some more…

He sighed and propped himself up on his elbows, unable to force back the grin at the sight of her all flushed with pleasure lying beneath him. “Please tell me we din’t just do that solely to warm up,” he requested in a rough voice, shifting his position within her slightly as he began to move once more.

She rolled her eyes at that. “Of course not,” she countered softly, thumb reaching out to trace one cheekbone. He gasped at her tenderness. “Are you just doing this for the free heat?” she suddenly demanded.

He practically whimpered when her caressing hand pulled away. “Huh?” His eyes blinked open. “What? No! For cryin’ out loud, Buffy… ‘ve been dreamin’ about being with you for months n—” He froze abruptly, eyes widening at his admission.

And Buffy gulped. “Me, too,” she whispered. She watched, almost mesmerized, as their fingers seemed to twine together of their own accord.

Spike seemed equally in awe of the moment. “You could’ve said something,” he commented absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah,” she retorted sarcastically. “‘Hi there, mortal enemy! Wanna fuck?’”

He snickered. “Best pick-up line ‘ve ever heard,” he countered.

She humphed. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she demanded instead.

“Thought you’d stake me at my first move,” he admitted, lips nibbling lightly at the hollow of her throat. “Spend so much time dissectin’ me with your words—”

“And you don’t?” she shot back.

They both paused for a minute before laughing and meeting in another toe-curling, pulse-racing kiss.

“Mmm,” Buffy murmured lazily when he pulled back to let her breathe. She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of the taste of Spike. All smoky and tangy with just a hint of sweetness… “How long do you think we have before the others rescue us?”

He shrugged. “A few hours.”

“Then let’s put that naughty mouth and wicked sexy body of yours to good use,” Buffy concluded, thrusting up against him in a violent surge.

He scowled at her in irritation at that before a naughty smirk curled the edges of his lips. “Best not to annoy me, luv,” he teased, “or ‘ll find a way to shut those sweet lips of yours…”

“Oh?” she retorted flippantly. “How?”

He caught her ass roughly in his palms and held her in place, using his hands for leverage as he pistoned into her harder and deeper than she’d ever imagined he could get.

“Spike…” was the only gasping word that escaped her lips before all ability to speak was lost. And she couldn’t deny that, yes, he’d finally found a way to render her speechless. As apparently she had with him.

Again and again. And again and again…

* * *

“Ooh! I think I see something!” Anya said excitedly, hovering well back from the witches’ flames, hanging off of Xander’s arm and licking happily at the ice-cream cone he’d bought her.

“Is it Buffy?” Giles asked anxiously, perking up from where he’d settled on a gravestone during this nerve-wracking wait. Willow and Tara had been working at melting the ice for five hours now, yet they’d only managed to burn a narrow tunnel through the frozen structure. He had no doubt the California sun could do much better over the next few days, but Buffy could well be dead by then.

Willow spotted the dark object through the ice and began directing her heat spell in that direction. “We’ll know in a minute,” she informed them.

Tara squinted at it as well, hand clasped in Willow’s as they continued to draw upon their magic. “I think…” she began hesitantly. The dark object jerked slightly. “It’s moving,” she confirmed.

Xander frowned. “That looks like Spike’s duster,” he finally confirmed. He quickly scanned the ice around them. “But I don’t see Buffy anywhere.”

As the group watched, the ice between them and Spike’s duster melted further, offering them a clearer view of their find.

“What is he doing under there?” Xander asked, confused. “Pushups?”

“Fuck, yeah…” Spike’s voice could just barely be heard through the melting ice sheet now. “Just like that. So bloody good…”

Willow’s face flushed. “I think he’s…er…” she trailed off, too embarrassed to say it.

“Oh, good lord,” Giles exclaimed, removing his glasses with a sigh. “Does the man have no sense of—?”

“Yes, Spike!” a second, feminine voice sounded of the ice. “Oh, harder! Faster! Right there! Yes…yes…yes!”

Stunned silence from the Scooby crowd as the last of the ice barricade melted through, giving them a perfect view of the writhing black duster.

Xander let out a wry chuckle. “You guys don’t honestly think—” he began.

“Buffy!” Spike’s voice roared from beneath the leather.

A few more shakes, and then the jacket became still and quiet.

“Uh…what…?” Willow began before her embarrassment took over again.

“Buffy and Spike are copulating with other under the coat,” Anya provided helpfully. “It’s actually very smart of them. Orgasms generate a tremendous amount of body heat, and vampire penises actually warm up when—”

“Anya!” everyone protested in perfect unison.

She sulked and turned back to eating her ice-cream. The whole lot of them were all sexually repressed, she concluded.

“Should we…uh…tell Buffy we won?” Willow asked nervously.

Beside her, Tara tried to look as inconspicuous as possible so that that unfortunate task could fall on someone else.

“Yes, excellent idea, Willow,” Giles said in crisp denial of what had just occurred before his very eyes. “Why don’t you inform her?”

“Me?!” Willow exclaimed, quickly hyperventilating. “It was just a suggestion! A suggestion for the group so that someone – namely, not me – could do it.”

Tara patted her on the back. “Breathe, sweetie,” she encouraged.

Willow gulped and calmed down.

“Sh-Shouldn’t it be Mister Giles’ job?” Tara added nervously.

Giles paled visibly. “I-It would be clearly inappropriate for me to… Xander, you do it.”

Xander stood at the back of the group, white horror written across his face. “P-Please tell me I didn’t just hear…”

“Buffy and Spike having vaginal intercourse?” Anya guessed.

“Gah!” Xander leapt, suddenly shuddering at the realization. “My ears! Must. Wash. Out. Ears!” He proceeded to rush away from the group, still cringing.

With a put-upon sigh, Anya followed after, melting ice-cream cone in tow. “I don’t know why he’s so surprised,” she grumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear. “They’ve been enjoying the foreplay for years now…”

That left Willow, Tara, and Giles with a silent lump of black leather. Three audible gulps could be heard.

“Y-You know,” Willow began shakily, “since the immediate danger’s over and all…”

“Yes, quite right,” Giles leapt upon her idea. “We can debrief Buffy next time she stops by the Magic Box.” Some heavy breathing sounded from under the duster, followed by some very suggestive rocking motions. Giles immediately regretted his use of the word ‘debriefing’. He didn’t know if he’d ever get these images out of his mind…

“Again?” Buffy’s husky voice gasped in delight from beneath the duster.

“You better believe it, baby,” Spike growled back.

The duster’s humping motions became more prominent.

“Flee?” Willow suggested.

Tara and Giles nodded, and the three of them made a hasty retreat.

“D-Do you think we should let them know they’re no longer trapped?” Tara ventured reluctantly.

Willow and Giles exchanged a frightened look. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out,” Giles finally concluded. “Eventually…”

With that, the remaining Scoobies fled to try to wipe the images from their mind.

And, completely unaware of what had just transpired in the warm, open night, the rocking beneath the duster just increased, sending howls of ecstasy into the midnight air…

So, if you're having a really cold winter, just remember: Shared bodily warmth. Preferrably with someone Spike-shaped. ~_^ And, er, yeah. Feedback. Or something. I think I heard about that once. Now, excuse me, while I go reread the snarky smut...