Author: LadyTenebrion (ladytenebrion@hotmail.com)

Summary: Sex is definitely the best accompaniment to heat!

Timeline: Not too sure myself…any suggestions?

Pairing: Spike/Buffy

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: I own jack-shit of the characters etc. What I do own, however, is the twisted storyline using already existing characters to carry out my will. Hmmm…that gives me an idea!

Feedback: Love it!

Author's Note: Sometimes it’s the little bits that are funner to write than the longer, progressive fics. And, as per usual, I was in the mood for a little smut!

Written: March 2005

Buffy didn’t know why, but she felt hot and horny. Okay, so maybe she knew why. She hadn’t had sex in five months was why. The fact that it was the middle of summer only seemed to help making her hot and flustered as she fought.

She’d never thought she could want something so much.

Patrolling had gone badly. For the past three weeks, the killing action had been slow…really slow. Apocalypse averted had meant that most of the underground creatures had remained pretty much underground. This, of course, had meant that the usual thrill and workout she got slaying was no longer there. And, evermore important, the horniness was.

She was wearing a wrap-round pale blue skirt, and an air-thin strappy top, but still the heat was getting to her. She hadn’t been able to focus properly for weeks, never mind sleep. If she could just relieve some of the tension in her body then maybe she could focus more.

She stopped walking and leaned against a tree, folding her arms and looking around her. Where were all the vamps? Did they not know that she needed to focus?

She slid down the length of the tree and bent her knees a little way out in front of her before scowling. “Oh!” She whined as she saw the small tear in her skirt. She hitched it a little higher and inspected the underside, the wooden stake in her hand inadvertently brushing the inside of her thigh.

She felt an unashamed throb and paused, holding her breath. Surely no one would mind if she just…

Overcome by a sudden urgency, she looked around for somewhere private to go and spotted a crypt. She jumped up and walked as patiently as she could over there, before slipping inside having checked the coast was clear.

“Hello?” She called, staring around the empty room. No one was there. It was completely empty apart from the large stone sarcophagus in the middle. “Looks like I’m all alone.” She breathed innocently, stretching her arms above her head.

She weaved her steps over to the slab and sat down, spinning her legs off the floor. She put the stake down beside her and hitched up her skirt high on her thighs.

Sighing, she traced a hand up the inside of her thigh to the dampness of her panties. She smiled seductively to herself as she slowly looped them down her legs. The way the soft fabric made her skin sizzle as it was directed along it made her want to hurry and arch.

She quickly discarded the soaked material, accidentally nudging both it and the stake onto the floor as her fingers returned to her personage. Cautiously, she ran her finger over her damp curls, before spreading her legs wide and delving a finger inside. She added another and began to pump, circling the sensitive area around her clit with her thumb.

“Mmmn…” She moaned, as she arched up to meet every thrust of her fingers, but every time she felt herself beginning to go over, she found that she was just short of completion. Determined to succeed, however, she tried harder.

***

Spike growled to himself as he stepped onto the slab outside his crypt. He’d had enough of Sunnydale, enough of it all. The place had really gone downhill since the Hellmouth had been closed. If only someone would open it again and cast them all into a firestorm of evil nothingness he’d feel a little better.

He threw the empty bottle of Jack Daniels against one of the tombstones and pushed open the huge door of his crypt, before freezing.

Slayer.

Naked Slayer.

Horny naked Slayer?

He watched, shocked at first, but then gradually more appeased, as she desperately tried to get herself off. Then he smiled at the view he was getting.

“Mmmn! Oh yeah!” She moaned, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “Fuck!”

Spike shut the door of the crypt behind him and walked silently over to where she was lying, ready for him on a silver platter. Well, stone platter.

He let his coat fall to the floor and stared at her. Did she really have no idea that he was that close? Obviously, she didn’t, otherwise he’d be a little pile of ashes right now. He could so easily just bite down and suck her dry.

***

Suddenly, a cold mouth closed across her nipple through the fabric in her top. It was softly sucking, the tongue twirling across her, making her moan in actual pleasure. Her eyes shot open just in time to meet Spike’s staring back down.

What the--

“Oh my god!” She shouted, too quickly, and jumped up, pushing his head away from the damp fabric and pushing her skirt down. Her body gave a few reminders of the need, with a lessening series of deep throbs.

“Spike!” She glared at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

Spike, she thought, okay. So, maybe beating him into a bloody pulp would cool her blood…and rid her of some of the embarrassment.

He was just watching her with a knowing smile. She looked around for the stake, but couldn’t see it. He’d thoughtfully disposed of it. She ground her teeth together and brushed her hair behind her ears, her breath slowing down, the embarrassment still fresh.

“Slayer.” He said, tilting his head appreciatively and lifting the tip of his tongue to his teeth.

“I--you--I am going to kill you.” She gritted, allowing a small flick of her eyes downwards to check her appearance. There was a damp circle on her top where his cold mouth had touched her. She looked up. “Right now!”

She charged at him and started to fight, but it was in heat and embarrassment and anger and her blows were easily deflected. He didn’t seem to want to kill her. He just wanted to watch her squirm. Bastard!

“Urgh!” She grunted as he pushed her against a wall. She grabbed onto his shoulders and tried to pull his chest down to connect with her knee.

But, instead of fighting, he insinuated his thigh between hers and pressed his lips against her open mouth. She tried to pull away, but his hands that had been on her arms, slid to her waist, and she let sensation take over her.

She kissed him back, opening her mouth for him to press his tongue against hers. His danced over hers as he revelled in the taste of her, the Slayer taste. She began to fumble with his clothes, ripping off the shirt and starting on the buckle of his belt.

He laughed against her mouth at her need, but stopped when he felt her brush his erection. He found himself being spurred on with the same need. He tugged at her skirt and let his lips drift down her neck, capturing her pulse between his lips.

He could have so easily just taken her then, quenched his thirst. But her raw passion caused her to reach roughly into his hair and drag his head down to her breast.

“Ah!” She moved pushing herself up against his mouth. He lifted the bottom of her top and slowly pulled it over her head. Obligingly, she let him feel the weight of her breast in his hands, mould them, before tasting them, drawing the nipples into almost painful peaks. “Oh, Spike!”

He felt the blood cascading through his body. She had moaned. She had moaned for him. He pulled the remainder of his clothes off, and then hers, and then stood there, staring at her body. God, he was getting so hard!

He wasted no time. He had no idea when she would change and realise that this was a stupid idea. He was content to grab every chance that he could get.

He moved forwards and devoured her mouth again, pressing his cold body against her hot one, his erection stabbing into her stomach. She moaned against his lips and pressed herself against him, winding her arms up around his neck. The feel of his cool body flush against her hot one made her moan in ecstasy. She began to grind her hips against his.

Without any warning, Spike jumped her up so that her legs were clamped around his waist, his hands forcing her closer. He found her naked breast with his mouth, his icy tongue swirling and teasing at the nipple. Her head spun back in sensation as one of his free hands squeezed her butt, allowing his fingers to delve in a frozen trail to her aching, dripping pussy.

The feel of his cold fingers stroking against the warmth of her, even just for a second, made her tense. She cried out and gripped onto his head as she came, securing it hard against her other breast.

She felt him grin against her and felt embarrassment that she had come so fast. She thought about saying something when her back hit the cold crypt wall and Spike lifted her higher, onto his shoulders so that his face was buried amid a mass of delicate curls.

Buffy stared, wide-eyed at the ceiling, desperately grabbing onto two gargoyle statues that were on either side of her. “Mnnnah!” She breathed, trying to control her excitement as it grew in her afresh.

Spike lightly kissed the insides of her thighs, revelling in the noises that she was making; the little groans, shrieks, whimpers of delight. He was growing harder by the second, but, dammit, if this was all he was going to have, he was going to make the most of it.

She was pressing closer now, thrusting her hips against his face. What else could he do but oblige? He licked a clear line across her slit and up to her clit. She moaned and tensed, forcing herself to calm down, but his tongue, his hands, his ice on her fire was just too much!

His tongue entered her and began lapping up the juices that flowed readily because of him. She moaned and clung on harder to anything she could, the pleasure was amazing. She felt his finger enter her, searching for her g-spot and moved against it to help. His tongue went back to her clit, pressing flush against it and pausing for a moment before he slowly kissed it with all the passion that he had kissed her earlier.

She thrashed against him as he inserted another finger at just the right angle. She bit her lip and tried not to scream, but it was becoming harder and harder and…

“OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH! Fuck, Spike!” She bucked against his face and fingers, coming wildly until the wave passed her. And then, as she lay riding the last few currents, she felt herself sliding down the wall, a lazy grin on her face.

She giggled a little as her feet reached the cold floor, and looked up at the ready vampire. He smiled at her for a moment before his eyes fell to her lips and he froze. She could taste blood in her mouth; she must have bitten down too hard.

She felt his cock twitch against her belly and felt the same buzz as before take her over. Oh god, she wanted more!

She charged at him and wrapped her hands around the back of his head. She tasted herself on his lips, and when he opened his mouth for her, she felt a different kind of passion take over him. He was tasting the blood of the Slayer. Blood and Buffy – he felt himself losing control.

Fresh lust in them both, he pushed back over the lid of the tomb and hoisted her ass onto the stone.

“Oh!” She moaned as he entered her.

“Fucking hell!” He babbled as he felt for the first time the tightness of her, the wetness and hotness close up.

“So big…” She licked her lips and looked at him before wrapping her legs around his hips and helping him bury himself to the hilt. “Spike!” She gasped, urgently.

He stared at her, his eyes laced with desire as he drew out slightly and pushed in again. She was shivering at the contact. It was…amazing! He began to thrust harder, pulling back a little more each time so that both of their bodies shook uncontrollably when they met, complete, the next time. Hungrily, he kissed her, his hands on her hips, his thumbs digging in to help him make a better connection.

“Unh, unh!” She curved her hips up to meet his every thrust.

“Fuck! So…tight…” He grunted, pumping harder.

“Oh, Spike!”

“So…fucking…hot…wet…”

Gradually her screams got louder as she felt something coming. She knew she was close, dangerously close to tipping over the biggest climax yet, but she wanted to take him with her. She didn’t know why, but she did.

“S-Spike,” she choked, as he angled himself, one foot hitched up against the stone so that he could drive in deeper, send her over further than anywhere she had ever been before.

“Buffy…fuck!” He shouted.

“Unh, unh…” She shrieked as she felt herself going. “So big…hard…fuck me, yeah! Spike!” But he just pumped harder. God! How was he able to keep going? “Come on, Spike…unh, unh…come inside me!”

What more could he do? He had to oblige. He roared into her, shooting his come in what seemed like long, violent hours, until both of their waves subsided.

He opened his eyes and realised where he was. He was bent over the Slayer, her sweat-gilded breasts pressed against his chest, his cock still buried inside. It was like a dream come true. She was still having little involuntary spasms, her whole body freezing as they gradually faded away.

He felt her hand sliding down his back to his firm butt, where she gave it a little squeeze. He grinned against her neck and pushed himself up. She smiled innocently at him and wriggled her hips a little.

She felt him stand to attention inside her at this action and so squirmed a little more.

“You,” he said, allowing his eyes to take in her willing form, “are a bad girl.”

She nodded, innocently. “And you,” she lifted her head and bit his lip, “are a bad boy.”

He grinned at her and lifted a hand to her breast, giving it a little squeeze. “I can live with that.”

Author: LadyTenebrion (ladytenebrion@hotmail.com)

Summary: Sex is definitely the best accompaniment to birthday cake!

Timeline: No idea, but I'm open to suggestions!

Pairing: Spike/Buffy

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: I own jack-shit of the characters etc. What I do own, however, is the twisted storyline using already existing characters to carry out my will. Hmmm…that gives me an idea!

Feedback: Love it!

Author's Note: Sometimes it’s the little bits that are funner to write than the longer, progressive fics. And, as per usual, I was in the mood for a little smut! This was originally called Cooking Lessons, for obvious reasons, and was going to be a series on its own, but I decided against it!

Written: March 2005

“…And, above all, don’t come downstairs after nine, okay?”

“Okay, Dawnie.” Buffy smiled. It was Dawn’s birthday, and everything had to be just so. The fruit punch had to be spiked to perfection. The pizza had to arrive no later than seven. And, the chips and dips, Buffy’s speciality, had to be brought in only once everyone had arrived.

“Okay.” She said, taking a deep breath and spinning on her heel. “Oh, and--”

“I’m upstairs as soon as I’ve paid for the pizzas.” Buffy pre-empted.

“Good, great!” The doorbell rang and she went scampering off through the kitchen doors.

Buffy turned back to the island counter and began to unwrap the dips and put them on a plate.

“Knock, knock!” Buffy turned to see Willow stood there holding a shiny gift-bag.

“Oh, hi, Will.”

“Hey, Buff. Just came to drop off this for Dawn.” She smiled, stepping inside and putting the bag down on the counter. “Where is she?”

“Ah, she’s Party-Girl.” Buffy grinned, pulling the plastic-film off the top of a sour-cream and chive pot. “In the lounge. It’s strictly a VIP-Only kinda place right now, though. I have to be in bed by seven!”

Willow laughed. “The one day a year she can do what she wants, and no one can say anything!”

“Yeah, something like that.” Buffy opened a cupboard and took out three large bags of chips.

“Need any help?”

“Nah, I’ve got it covered. Thanks Will.” She dipped her little finger into one of the dips. “Highly bad for me, but highly delicious!” Her tongue swirled the warming mixture as she sucked her finger clean. “Highly delicious!” She added, once she had finished.

“I’m just going to pop in and give Dawn this, and then I’ve gotta get going. There’s a Mother-Earth Study Group on on Mondays. I thought I’d check it out.”

“Sounds good.” Buffy said, dipping her finger in again and examining it closely. “Very, very good.”

Willow left for what seemed only seconds before returning, closing the door behind her. “I think she liked it.” She grinned.

“What d’you get her?”

“Nail polish.”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “Nail polish? I-I mean, what colour?”

“Well, that’s the brilliant thing. It changes colour.” She grinned again. “Spell.”

“Oh,” Buffy grumbled. “Better than mine.”

“Why? What did you get her?”

Buffy pouted and shook her head.

“Okay. Well, whatever it was, I’m sure it was great. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Buffy brushed her hair behind her ears. “Bye.” She opened a bag of chips and ate three at once before pouring the rest of them into a bowl.

She loaded everything onto a tray and stood there staring at it. There was still ten minutes before she could take it in.

She turned her back to it and folded her arms. “Not weak. Chips aren’t important to me.”

“Buffy!” Dawn opened the door to the kitchen and ran in. “We need the chips now. Okay?”

“Chips. Now. Gotcha!” Buffy said, picking up the tray.

“This a private party, or’s anyone invited?” Spike leaned against the door frame grinning at Dawn.

“Private party.” Buffy grunted.

“Spike!” Dawn squealed. “You wanna join us?” She ran forwards and took a hold of his hand, pulling him into the house.

“Hey! I thought it was VIPs Only. Which meant no one over twenty.” Buffy whined.

Dawn nodded. “Spike’s cool, though. He gets in for free. D’you wanna come?”

“Love to, pet. But I’ve got business to talk to Big-Sis about.” She pouted at him and let go of his hand. “But, I have got a present for you.” He lifted his other hand just as her smile made a reappearance.

“Oooh!” She squealed, accepting the small package.

“It’s tiny.” Buffy scoffed.

“Size doesn’t matter.” He replied, not taking his eyes away from Dawn as she unwrapped it.

“Bet you say that to all the girls.” She muttered under her breath.

“Never needed to. Need me to prove it?” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She cringed and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

Suddenly, Dawn gasped. “Oh, Spike! It’s beautiful!”

Buffy pouted and stood up straight to watch her hug Spike. Why was everyone’s gift better than hers? She had taste! She had a whole bunch of taste!

“Look, Buffy!” Dawn giggled. “Spike got me a necklace. The jewel’s my favourite colour, as well!” She fixed it about her neck.

“Good for protection as well, pet.” He said, pressing his tongue against his teeth. “Was blessed last century by the pope.” He grinned further at Buffy’s look. “I acquired it off his neice.”

“Back when you were still able to kill, I suppose.” She snapped, gulping down the water to stop herself from saying something she’d regret.

“Let’s just say, she was testing out a theory of her own.” She scowled at him.

“Well, I love it, Spike!” Dawn pulled him down and kissed him on the cheek. “Sure you won’t come in?”

“Sorry Niblet. Happy Birthday.” She grinned and hummed contently, before turning and skipping from the room. He turned to Buffy. “Hot?”

She choked angrily on the water she was drinking and scowled at him. “No.” She bit, angrily.

He skulked over and sat on one of the stools. “Need help?”

“No.” She gritted, tightening the lid on the bottle. “I have everything under control.”

“Crisps, huh?” She glared at him.

“What do you want, Spike?” He tilted his head back, about to make some sardonic remark, so she stopped him. “Forget it. Why are you here?”

“Heard there was a demon sayin’ that he was gonna open the Hellmouth because god told him to. Thought you might want to know.” He watched her dip her finger once more into the dip and frowned at his own wicked, wicked thoughts. “Heard his name is--”

“Pnemacles. Yeah, axed him yesterday.” She lightly dabbed the creamy mixture with her tongue. God, it tasted good. Spike watched her. He could feel something stirring…something far too disturbing.

“So, got everything sorted for Little Bit’s birthday?” He said, looking away and opening the fridge to try and distract himself. And, to cool the steadily heating blood he could feel that was pooling all too familiarily in one part of his body.

“Yup.” She said, closing her eyes slightly as she sucked the dip off her finger.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Good, good. What cake did you get her?”

Her eyes flew open. Dread crept up inside her.

“C-Cake?”

“Yeah,” he said, turning, shutting the fridge door. He shoved his hands into his pockets to still the movement already straining against his jeans. “Plain? Chocolate? Anythin’ special?”

She ran forwards and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Shit, Spike! What am I gonna do?”

“Store?” He offered, looking away, trying to remain undisturbed by her closeness. Jeeze – if she hadn’t been sucking on that damned finger of hers, then none of this would be affecting him!

“Bank holiday! What do we do?”

“We?”

“Spike. You have to help me!” She whined, looking about for inspiration. She opened the cupboards looking for some cake mix. Trust her to be stupid enough not to remember. Who forgets a birthday cake on a birthday?

“Why don’t you just make one?”

“There’s no cake mix.” She huffed. She rubbed her temples. “Oh…hey – maybe she won’t notice.” He scowled at her and picked up the tray.

“Take this in. I’ll think of something.”

She stared at him for a moment, before eyeing him sceptically but doing what he said.

When she returned he had taken off his coat and rolled his sleeves up. He looked determined.

“What are you doing?”

“We,” he corrected, “are going to make a cake.”

She scowled at him. “There’s no mix.”

“Remind me never to marry you,” he muttered, pulling out a big bowl, “gonna make one.”

“You can…” she stared at him, confused, “bake?”

“Not exactly rocket-science.” He dismissed, opening another door.

God! She hated him. He was so annoying. So cocky. So self-assured.

She submitted in the end, if he could do this, then she was going to be grateful. “What are you looking for?”

“Flour?” He suggested.

“Here.” She reached past him, her breasts brushing momentarily against his back. He didn’t seem to notice anything, but she did. For the first time, she felt super-aware of his closeness.

Shit, Buffy, get a grip! She must have eaten something. The dip? No, don’t *ever* blame the dip! She told herself.

“Anything else?” She said, cheerily, sidestepping her own momentary relapse into a world where Spike was hot.

“To make a cake it generally takes more than just flour, yes.” He turned to the cupboard again and opened the fridge. “Okay, chocolate or plain?”

Buffy furrowed her brow and leaned over his arm to look inside the cupboard. What was he seeing in there?

He turned to glare at her, and she realised how stupid an idea it had been. Now she was close to him…so close. She blinked and stared up at him. He looked angry.

He looked hot angry, she noticed. Damn that dip!

“Chocolate?” She offered.

“Right.” He took a deep breath and pulled a load more ingredients out. “Can you get me out a tray? No, the circle one.” He said, watching her bend down and pull out a baking tray. “Grease it up, will you?” He asked, seeing how far her new mood and need for him was going to force her to be polite.

To his surprise she didn’t hit him, instead she nodded and went to the fridge. And pulled out a pot of butter. His brow was furrowed at her when she turned back, so she smiled. “Spreadable?”

“Mmmm.” He said, nodding, confused. His bad, mind-numbingly stupid thoughts were creeping back into his mind. Christ, he thought he had those under control. I mean, he said to himself, she can’t be implying what I think she’s implying. He cleared his throat. “The butter.” He added, more for his own benefit than anyone else’s.

“Do I just…” She motioned her hand into the plastic pot and squeezed the air.

His dead, unnecessary breath caught in his throat. “Er, yeah.” His voice was squeaky all of a sudden as he watched her dip two fingers into the butter and clump some off into her hands. She smushed it between her fingers, a look of pure delight on her face. Doesn’t she know what she’s doing?

She giggled and happily purveyed the mess on her hands. “I should bake more often.”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to distract himself, “you’re a real Delia!” He started with the mixture.

“Delia?” She asked, innocently tossing her head back. He turned to see why, and saw that her hair was in her face and she was trying to get rid of it without getting it covered in butter.

“Yeah, she’s a kind of Martha Stuart person, who…” he moved over to where she was standing, “here.” He said, brushing her hair behind her ears, softly, patiently. His calloused fingers tracing so softly a line across her face, him so close, his everything seemed the make her shiver.

She cleared her throat, anxious that he might have some idea of the effect he was having on her. She laughed, nervously. “Sticky mess on my fingers.” She said, before blushing furiously and wishing it unsaid. What the hell was wrong with her? Why didn’t she have control over her own body anymore?

He didn’t say anything. He simply turned his back on her and started mixing some of the ingredients. Oh god, she thought, he must think I’m a complete slut!

***

Was he being punished? Was she punishing him for something? Yeah, he’d not always been the most patient or courteous to her, or even wanted her to live. But that didn’t mean that he deserved this.

Fuck! He could feel himself twitching and growing just being this close to her. The scent of her perfume was bewitching, never the other scents that were fast reaching his nose. God! Was she playing with him?

He was struggling with the demon inside him to gain control of his body. The vampire wanted him to morph and sink his teeth into her. The human wanted to let go and just sink into her.

He felt another involuntary twitch. He had to get a hold of his body. Aside from the fact that she’d dust him the second he got close, a point which his mind seemed content to ignore, there was the issue of proximity to others. Even if Buffy wanted him, anyone would be able to walk in at any moment. Does that matter? He could feel himself complying to the idea.

Anyway, there was no chance that she’d want him.

He cleared his throat.

“Greased up and ready to go!” Buffy chimed from behind him, and he felt yet another lurch inside his jeans. Get a grip, man!

He cleared his throat again. “Think I just heard the doorbell. Go answer the door.”

“Ungh,” she moaned, “greasy fingers.” She moved over to where he was standing and showed him. “Can you turn on the tap for me?”

He nodded and allowed the cold water in the sink. She held her hands under it, whilst he squeezed some of the washing up liquid into her hands before smoothing it across hers. He heard her heart nearly stop. It was lucky his was already dead.

Shit!

He dropped her hands and turned around, away from her, picking up a towel. His need was throbbing. He wiped his own hands and passed it to her. She smiled at him, and dried her own hands before hurrying out of the room.

Fuck, I have issues!

***

Buffy stood in the hallway scolding herself. What the hell was wrong with her? She was supposed to be mature and in control of her emotions…okay, so maybe not all of her emotions. But certainly these ones towards Spike of all people.

She paid for the pizza and absentmindedly handed the stack of boxes to one of Dawn’s friends before going the long way back to the kitchen. Before opening the door, she took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind.

“Okay, it’s in.” He said, as soon as she had entered the kitchen. He had just closed the oven door and stood up. He spun round to face her and pointed a finger at her. “Oh yeah, and by the way, someone needs to teach you the meaning of ‘grease-up’.”

She nearly fell to the floor right then and there. Her eyes were opened wide as she stared at him, and then he seemed to realise what he had said and turned.

“Should be ready in about twenty-five minutes.” He muttered under his breath. He rolled down his sleeves, his back to Buffy.

“This the mix?” She asked, seeing the bowl he had used, and spoon lying there on the counter.

“Er, yeah.” He said, noticing that there was some flower dust on his black shirt. “Bloody hell.” He muttered, trying to dust it off.

“Mmnn!” Buffy moaned, breaking his concentration. His head shot up. She was sucking her finger. “Oh, this is soooooo good!” She dipped her finger in the mix again and brought it to her mouth. “How did you get so good, Spike? It must be very hard.”

She was talking about the cake mix. He knew that. She knew that. He just needed reminding of that fact. And a cold shower… But he wasn’t even sure if that would work. How do you cool the blood of someone dead?

“I, er…”

“Have you tasted this? It’s so good. Here, try some.” She said, lining a dollop onto her finger and leading it to his mouth. Without thinking twice, she put her hand on his shoulder and tried to force the mixture in. He opened his mouth, only to stop it from smearing across his lips.

And then it happened. The second his lips closed around her finger it became something more…something different. His eyes raised to meet hers, and in a fevered instant she reacted.

She pushed herself forwards, against him, drawing his lips down to her own. This was all he wanted, all he’d wanted in a long while. He pressed against her mouth with such force that he found himself bending her backwards over the kitchen island. She tasted of chocolate and chive and her own special Buffy sweetness. He grunted as her hands slid roughly to his hair, holding his mouth firmly against hers.

His fingers moved under her blouse and cupped her breast, his hard rough fingers teasing at the nipples. She moaned against his mouth and began to tug at his belt, unzipping him and releasing the erection that had been straining against his jeans for what seemed like hours.

She grasped him in her hands, her fingers barely making it all the way around his swollen member. Involuntarily he thrust towards her, desperate to feel more.

She was wearing trousers and hated herself for it. But, thankfully, it didn’t seem to matter to him. He unbuttoned them and pulled them down her legs before hoisting her up onto the table. Her hands pushed aside the empty bowl and packets of flour and broken egg shells, and gripped onto the other side of the island just in time for him to ram into her. She was so wet, so ready for him, he almost lost himself without a single push.

“Unh!” She moaned, arching up against him. He pulled back and drove himself back in, and then again and again. Each time harder and faster than before. “Unh, Spike!”

She almost screamed when his lips closed in on her breast, one hand running up her flat stomach as he pounded her. He could barely bite back the demon at the feeling of her around him, clenching him like a warm, wet velvet glove.

“Oh, unh…unh…UNH!” She moaned.

The bowl that was near her outstretched arm fell off the island and tumbled to the ground, crashing lightly.

They both froze. Spike helped Buffy slide her bare bottom back off counter and stand up straight. They were still for what seemed like an eternity, the pulsing, throbbing needs still wanting, keeping them locked together.

“I don’t think they heard.” Buffy whispered through restless breaths.

“Loud?” He managed, though his voice sounded choked.

She stared at him, grateful that his chest was still pressed against her bare one. She could feel her pulse rising again. So could he.

His mouth crushed down onto hers and the fevered motions started again. She paused, only to remove one of her legs from her trousers and wrap her bare limb around his hips, pulling him closer.

“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice called.

“Shit!” Buffy squealed, pushing him out of her and dragging her top down and trousers up. Spike tried as best he could to tuck his swollen self into his jeans, but he couldn’t…it was physically impossible! “Spike, hurry up!” She snapped.

“Tryng,” he fumbled, “but I can’t, pet!”

“Well, try harder.” She moved forwards and batted his hands away so that she could do it herself. He was telling the truth, damn him… But, at the same time, bless God for such an endowment.

Just then, the kitchen door swung open and Dawn walked in. Luckily, by that point, Buffy’d pushed Spike onto the floor, his back against the cupboards and between her legs. She leaned over the counter nonchalantly.

“Don’t come any further, missy, or you’ll see something you shouldn’t!” Technically, she was right. There was no way in hell naked Spike between Buffy’s legs was right. But Dawn froze nonetheless.

She sniffed the air. “Can I smell chocolate?”

“Yup, but it’s a surprise, so shhh – away with you!” She giggled and tried to ignore a hand suddenly on her thigh. She arched her ass backwards, away from his touch, and stamped her feet.

“Are you alright?” Dawn asked, spying her sister with a crooked gaze. “You look a little…flustered.”

Buffy laughed. “I’m good. Just, you know me and baking, we--” She was going to say something witty, Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice witty, but Dawn interrupted.

“You didn’t cook did you?” She asked, horrified at the prospect.

“Well…” She shuddered as Spike unzipped her trousers and began carefully sliding them down her thighs.

“Buffy, please tell me you didn’t cook on my birthday? This is suppose to be the day off!”

“Don’t wuh-hurry,” she said, pausing when she felt a finger press against her, “Spike did most of the actual work.”

“Spike?” Dawn brightened. Spike froze his teasing to listen. “Spike can bake?”

The way she put it made him sound so immasculine, he thought. He could cook, requiring skill, not a skirt. Baking made him sound like an old woman.

“Yes, as it turns out.” Buffy said, pressing her knee against his shoulder.

Dawn laughed, free and unbridled. “That’s great!”

Spike huffed and scowled and let his arms flop to his thighs. “Are you laughing at him?” Buffy teased. “I thought he was all powerful to you.”

Okay, so he was listening again. He looked up and saw Buffy’s wet, quivering pussy just aching to be tasted.

“Oh, he’s still cool,” Dawn explained, lifting a recently-painted fingernail for closer scrutiny, “He’s dark-evil-vampire-guy. Which is always cool.”

Spike grinned, then reached up, his hands firmly on Buffy’s bottom. He felt her try to pull away, which brought her directly to his lips. She gave a little whimper and Dawn looked up.

“You okay?” She asked.

“Yup. Great!” She grinned back as squirm-free as she could manage. “Um, what did you want again?” She asked, blinking thickly and scrunching her hands against the sides of the counter. God, Spike had a wonderful mouth. And a wicked tongue!

“Came to ask when you were going upstairs. We kinda wanna invade the kitchen. Pancakes.”

Buffy tensed and clamped her thighs around Spike’s head. “Invade the kitchen, pancakes.” She nodded and smiled, tightly. “Well, I’ve gotta wait for Spike to come before I can go upstairs. We’ve still got stuff to do.”

“Evil demon kinda stuff?” Dawn asked, raising her eyebrows.

“The evilest!” Buffy replied.

“I hope you’re getting cooking lessons from him, because what I smell is nice!”

“Learning everything I can about sweet things.”

“Okay, well, tell me when you’re gone and--did you break something down here?” Dawn moved closer to the island.

“Out! Out! Birthday girl no clean up after clumsy sister!” Buffy tried, and to Spike’s amazement, succeeded as Dawn grinned and left the room.

As soon as her tension at her sister’s presence began to subside, Spike pulled her down onto the ground and drove into her, enjoying the way their bodies fit so naturally.

“Mmmph, Spike!” She grinned as his mouth crashed against hers. God, he tasted good! “Teach me sweet things,” she murmured as his mouth left her lips and his fingers lifted her blouse to reveal her soft, pert breasts.

“So hot…Buffy…ungh!” He picked up the pace. She had to push against the door of one of the cupboards to keep from breaking into it.

“Fuck…unh…Spike!” She whimpered between thrusts.

“So…fucking…hot!” He slid his hands to her hips and for a few, blinding minutes they both found release. “Ggggggrrrrrrrraaaaaaawwwwwwwww!” Spike gritted holding her hips down as he fired into her.

“UUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Buffy screamed, before stilling and shooting her eyes open. Spike was lying on top of her, his mouth by her breast, totally oblivious to the noise they had been making.

“Buffy?” Called Dawn’s voice. “Are you alright?”

“Er, yeah!” She shouted back, barely denting Spike’s contented grin as he brought a finger up to tease at her erect nipple. “I just--burnt myself,” she shouted, “think I’ll wait for Spike.”

“Yeah, you do that!” Dawn shouted back.

Then there was silence.

Buffy bit onto her lip. Spike craned his head up. “Okay, pet?” He asked.

She stared at him and nodded. Breathlessly she said, “How long till the cake’s done?”

He arched up and looked at the clock on the wall. “Eleven minutes.” Before he knew it, he was being rolled over. He stared at her as she sat astride him, his cock still inside her, strangely ready for action.

“Cold.” She explained, brushing her hair back behind her ears. She surveyed the damage. All in all, the kitchen didn’t look too bad. Clearly all the world-rocking had gone on in their own intense, pulsating sphere.

The heat from the oven was making her feel silky again. She kept her hands in her hair for a moment before allowing them to drift down her body to her breasts. Then she stared at him, a minxy smile formed on her lips.

“You know what I think I need,” she said, leaning down and allowing the tips of her nipples to rub against his chest.

“Wuh-what do you need?” He asked, swallowing a suddenly dry mouth. She was clenching her inner muscles on purpose.

“Another lesson?”