Chapter 41

“We have to what?!” “Bloody hell, no!”

Travers had expected this reaction. He hadn’t clawed his way up to the position of Head of the Council of Watchers without being able to foresee hurdles, or prepare for them. His case was already made and practiced (hey, an experienced tactician never jumps into the fray unprepared).

“Buffy, William... There is still a chance that the baby is in danger. It may seem as though your mission was successful, but it would be prudent to err on the safe side by keeping the child with both of you, those most capable of looking after her best interests. At least until our coven is able to determine that the danger has subsided. Victoria Blakeford may be in a position to come back from wherever she was taken; until we know for sure, we can‘t afford to take any chances.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Buffy had envisioned handing the baby over to some Mary Poppins-like lady before heading back to the hotel to crash for oh, a few days. Her body ached everywhere, her clothes were torn, and she was still covered in Pelorak blood. She needed a bath and about twelve hours’ sleep. Spike, who stood beside her, was in no better shape. Except he looked like he needed about twenty-four hours’ sleep.

Damn this new conscience of his! The old Spike would have told the Council to screw themselves, that they could take care of the tot, threat of danger or not. Of course, the old Spike wouldn’t have stayed on after his conditions hadn’t been met; he wouldn’t have risked life and limb to rescue some slave. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have fought dozens of Pelorak to save a baby. But the new Spike? Well, that was a different story.

The two blondes made eye contact and, resigned to the temporary extension of their duties, nodded.

Buffy spoke on their behalf. “Ok, Travers. We’ll take care of the baby until it’s deemed that she’s safe. Anyway, after the crap we went through tonight, this should be a breeze...”

***

“Slayer, I think you’ve got it on backwards.”

“Spike? Shut up and let me do this.”

“No, I know you’re doing this wrong.”

“Listen here, back-seat-diaper-changer-guy, are you saying that you know more about diapers than me?”

Spike held up the package of diapers and pointed to its front. “No, but I’m smart enough to see that the baby on the picture has the...” His brow creased as he stared at the picture. “...red fuzzy thing...”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Elmo. He’s called Elmo.”

“Fine. If you look at the picture, Elmo’s on the baby’s front. Probably easier to put the nappy on if you’re pulling the velcro thingies to the front, anyway.”

“Ugh. Fine. Give me a hand, though. I’ve no idea how something so small can squirm so much.” The young woman managed to turn the diaper around. Huh, she wondered, whaddaya know. It *is* way easier like this. She looked back up to the bleached blonde as she pressed the velcro tabs in place. “After this, maybe you can wash up a bit and go out and get all that stuff we need. I doubt that these diapers the Council gave us are going to last long enough.”

Spike nodded, dangling his set of keys just beyond Dawn’s reach. “Alright. But don’t expect any sort of fancy, cutesy stuff. I’m just popping in to the first store I see to grab the basics. I doubt that’s much, anyway. What more do you need for a tot aside from nappies and milk?”

***

The bell above the door pealed as Spike stepped into the small family-run store. He had more than a hunch that this was going to be yet another experience to add to his ‘weird things I’ve been through’ list. In just over a week, he’d gone from being the Big Bad to shopping for nappies. He muttered a few curses under his breath as he looked around for someone to help him. Just as he was about to holler for assistance--rather rudely, with the mood he was in--he heard someone’s voice.

“William?”

The vampire spun around to face the person who had called out. As the young woman approached him, he had to fight not to twitch or stare. He leaned against the counter, trying to steady himself, masking it as a casual pose. Her resemblance to Dru was uncanny--thin, of average height, long dark curls surrounding a pale face with large eyes. Shaking off the strange feeling, he forced a weak smile. “Have we met?”

“No, I‘m afraid we never have.” She approached him gracefully, examining him closely. “You just look like a William.” The young woman hadn’t missed the strange look that flitted across the man’s face. Never one to be shy, she cocked her head to the side, clucking her tongue. “Is something the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. I hope I didn‘t frighten you earlier, by calling you by your name. It‘s a bit of a... gift... I‘ve always had. Of course, my parents have always discouraged it--especially Mother. Seems to think it‘s a bad omen or something.” She shook her head and chuckled. “’S a bit silly, to make such a fuss over a sixth sense...”

Spike tried to remain calm. Damn--she even had some of Dru’s mannerisms. All she needed to do now was to close her eyes and spin around, nattering about pixies. “No ghost, luv. You just remind me of someone I know.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Practically her spittin’ image, to tell the truth.”

“Well, can’t be family. Don’t look at all like anyone on Mum’s side and most of my Father’s family was killed early in the nineteenth century. It’s an horrible story, actually. I’m the first girl to be born to a Gooderman since then.” She gave him a strange smile, unsure as to why she was giving a stranger such intimate details about her family. Shaking the feeling off, she swept her left arm in a Vanna White impression. “Now, how can Gooderman’s help you?”

The vampire had to restrain himself from asking the hows and wheres of her family’s murders. If Dru really did have descendants, it was best that no one know. Especially not someone linked to Angelus and Dru herself.

“Yeah. We--that’s my, um, girlfriend and I--have to keep an eye on a baby for a couple of days. I just need to pick up... whatever we need.” Damn. Why was he so embarrassed about all this? After all, it wasn’t like it was his own baby. And it sure as hell wasn’t the Slayer’s--now, wouldn’t that be a hoot, Slayer havin‘ a baby? He ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “Truth is, neither of us have an inkling of what we need.”

The brunette smiled. God, this was hilarious--she’d never seen anyone so embarrassed about picking up nappies and formula before. Not even the men sent in to pick up their wives’ feminine hygiene products looked as put out as poor William. Actually, if he hadn’t mentioned his girlfriend, she would seriously have considered asking him out. For some odd reason, she felt a connection to him. Weird.

“Well, no need to be so bashful about it. Taking care of babies isn’t always instinctual; actually, it hardly ever is.” She grabbed a shopping cart and led the bleached blonde to the far end of the store. “So, do you just need the basics, or everything?” At the man’s blank stare, she gave him a wide shopkeeper grin that would have made Anya proud. “Well, then, let’s see where we can start.”

They made their way along the aisles, filling the cart with all the necessities. Spike was astounded at the number of things that were needed. It was a good thing he hadn’t relied on the list he and the Slayer had come up with, because the baby would have been fed whole milk and they’d have run out of diapers after two nights.

“You sure we need this many?”

The woman laughed. “Yes, you do. It’s funny, but the younger they are the more nappies they go through.” Looking into the cart, she took stock of what they‘d accumulated so far. “Ok. We have formula, nappies, wipes, bibs, bottles, a few sleepers, some blankets... I know I‘m forgetting something...” She bit her lip in concentration before her eyes grew large. “Aha! Does the baby have anywhere to sleep?” When Spike shook his head, she pulled his coat sleeve. “Come on. You’ll also need a bassinette, and...”

The vampire followed her silently, quite happy that the Council was footing the bill on this one. Come to think of it, might even go ahead and buy the tot a few extras. A few *expensive* extras... To hell with what he’d told Buffy; if the Council was paying, this was going to be the most spoiled baby in town.

When it was all said and done, the young woman led Spike to the register. As he filled out the blank cheque he’d been given, the vampire realised that he hadn’t found out her name. Handing her the cheque he shook her hand. “Never quite caught your name, Miss...”

“Edith. My name’s Edith.”

***

Stunned, Buffy sat at the table, slack-jawed. All she had done was ask Spike how the shopping trip had gone and she’d been bombarded with curses about ‘bleedin’ ghosts’ and ‘bloody psychic dolls’ before he’d stormed back out for a smoke.

Shaking her head, she began to unpack the numerous bags and boxes--and how the hell had all that fit in the car, anyway?!--that had been dumped at her feet. As long as she’d live, she’d never understand how that vampire’s mind worked.

***

“Have you got the bloody thing ready yet?!” Spike called over the baby’s hysterical shrieks. He paced the length of the room, bouncing Dawn in a steady rhythm, trying to soothe her. This hadn’t been part of the plan when he’d agreed to help save the world. Playing au pair wasn’t on his long list of things to do and he certainly didn’t have the experience or patience that a situation like this required.

He was tired, he was cranky, and he was in a lot of pain. And it didn’t help that every time he bounced Dawn, her legs scraped against his burns. Conversely to what he’d hoped, a very subdued Amelia had asked to have the ring back. Its disappearance had been noticed and she’d had to come clean about ’lending’ it to Spike. Head Council members were not impressed, and her fate as a Watcher was still to be determined.

But, as poorly as he felt, the vampire managed to reign in his anger while repeating a mantra over and over again in his head: I will *not* shake the baby; I will *not* shake the baby; I will *not*...

Buffy tried to remain calm; this was the fifth time Spike had called out in less than three minutes and it was really starting to get on her nerves. Realising that he was in much more pain than her, and that Dawn’s wailing was no doubt louder to his vampiric hearing, the young woman just gripped the counter and counted to ten. Over and over again. Peach air in, irritating vampire out... peach air in, irritating vampire out... “For the hundredth time, Spike, it says we have to boil the water for ten minutes! Then we obviously have to wait for the water to cool down before we can give it to her.” She checked her watch once again, noting that only two minutes were left for the boiling.

Thank God, or I’d have to pull his arms off and beat him to death with them...

***

“Two bloody ounces. All that screamin’ for two bloody ounces...” Spike held up the bottle with his free hand, swishing the remaining six ounces around. “Are you sure we can’t keep this for later? Seems a waste, if you ask me.”

“Well I guess the experts weren’t asking you, were they?. It says ’do not reheat’ and, seeing as I’ve never done this before, I’m going to take their word for it.” Buffy was almost whispering, from fear of waking the baby. It had taken Spike five additional minutes to calm Dawn down enough so he could feed her, and then she had practically inhaled the two ounces before falling into a coma-like state. “Do you want me to put her in the playpen? And, may I add, Travers is gonna be pretty pissed off that you went and bought all this extra stuff. I mean, do we really need a swing?”

The vampire handed the sleeping beauty to the Slayer so she could put her down for the night. “Hey, he’s the one who gave me a blank cheque. Anyway, I figured it was the best way to get back at them for guilting us into this; she can keep the stuff when she goes... wherever. As for the playpen, it was cheaper than a crib and we needed somewhere other than a suitcase or desk drawer to put her in.”

Dawn didn’t even flinch as she was gently laid down in the pen’s bassinet. Tiny mouth half open, little arms splayed out at her sides like a scarecrow, she slept as calmly as a child who had never been kidnapped and nearly sacrificed. The cut she’d received from the ritual had healed almost immediately, but that didn’t lessen Buffy’s guilt over not having checked it over before arriving at Council Headquarters.

The young woman watched the baby sleep before taking a seat beside Spike on the couch. Snuggling against his side--careful not to brush against the wound to his abdomen--she sighed. “Shouldn’t she be a little more... I don’t know, a little more freaked? I mean, she’s been manhandled by Evan’s mom and her band of not-so-merry demons for the last month and a half, but she’s sleeping like she was at home with Mommy and Daddy and nothing bad had ever happened.”

“Honestly? I think she’s special, love.” Spike craned his neck to peer into the pen. “Remember when they handed her back to us at the Council? It was like she recognized us. Don’t think tots that young can do that, never mind the super healing bit. You know what it’s like for these prophecy babies. They’ve always got some sixth sense about ’em or something.”

The Slayer remained pressed against the vampire until she took a deep breath. Pulling herself up from the comfort of the couch, she wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. I smell. I think I’m finally going to go have that bath I’ve been thinking about for the past four hours.”

Spike got up after her. “Sounds like a nice idea, pet. How ’bout I join you, and we can wash each other’s back?” He wagged his eyebrows and gave her a smirk.

“If you join me, I doubt we’ll be getting any washing done. And, tempting as that is, someone’s got to stay with the baby. With both of us in there, we’ll never hear it if she wakes up.” Buffy gasped as Spike walked over, wrapping his strong arms around her. She could feel the tenuous control he was exerting over himself in the tension in his muscles; he was holding back, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

“People in Ireland will hear her screams, love; she’s like a banshee. And remember--vampire, here... Come on, there’s no way we won’t hear...”

The young woman felt her legs weaken as a cold tongue traced the shell of her ear, cool breath against her skin. “Please?” Soft lips placed butterfly kisses down her neck as a hand traced a hardened nipple through the cotton of her shirt. Giving in, Buffy turned around to face him and nodded.
The weight of the day’s emotions came crashing down on them as their lips collided. Frenzied, open-mouth kisses that spoke of relief, of frustration and of love were exchanged as they shuffled back towards the bathroom.

Spike pulled back, eyes black as night and lips stretched into a leer. “Gonna finally see if we both fit in that tub...”

***

“Spike? Why aren’t you coming in?” Buffy had peeled her clothing off--in the literal sense--before letting herself slip into the bathtub. She immediately felt her muscles relax, soothed by the heat of the water. Now she lay back, fingers tracing the tub’s curved sides, watching the vampire with interest. He should have been undressed, in the tub and pressed against her by now...

The bleached blonde inhaled deeply through his nose. Somewhere amongst the smell of sweat, dirt and blood was the Slayer’s arousal. The unmistakeable, sweet scent of her desire for him. “Just taking in the view, love.” He ripped his t-shirt off, winced slightly at the movement, and tore at his belt buckle.

Buffy licked her lips as she watched her lover undress. Belt tossed aside, he began to work at the button on his jeans. She knew that the calm facade he was projecting was just for show. The bulge in his jeans and his trembling hands belied his relaxed demeanour.

Just as the vampire was about to push the denim down over his hips, a very distinct wail arose from the adjoining room.

“Bloody, buggering fuck!”

***

Her bath quickly over with, the Slayer crept out of the bathroom. She was a little apprehensive about Spike’s potential mood--after all, he’s been jonesing for that bathtub interlude since we’ve been here...

The sight that befell her would have erased any and all lingering doubts about Spike’s redemption had she had any.

Stretched out on the couch, the vampire was deeply asleep, baby Dawn equally peaceful on his chest. Pulling one of the blankets off their bed, Buffy carefully covered the snoozing vampire and tot, tucking them in with a kiss to their foreheads. As she padded over to the kitchen to forage, she made a mental note to thank Giles for guilting her into this trip.
 

Chapter 42
 
“Now, do we have everything?” Standing by the hotel room door, Buffy made a mental list of everything Spike had already brought to the car, glad that the saleslady who had sold him all this stuff had suggested the easily storable versions. Otherwise they might have had a problem loading a playpen, a swing, a bouncy chair, a diaper bag and a bag of clothing into the BMW. Oh, that was aside from the car seat, of course. Oh, and all the bottles and formula and toys and...
 
She looked down at the baby, who was peacefully sleeping in her car seat. Although the young woman was glad the week was over--she was so not ready for kids yet--she felt a twinge of sadness at handing Dawn back to the Council.
 
An adoptive family had been found for the baby girl, one which was aware of her special status--people who were ‘associated with the Council’, according to Travers. But that mattered little to Buffy’s selfish side, who doubted they’d love her nearly as much as she did.
 
The click of the door caught the Slayer’s attention and she almost laughed out loud at Spike’s dishevelled countenance. He looked like he’d been wrestling a Fyarl.
 
“You tell me that there’s anything else for me to squeeze in that bloody car and you’re riding on the roof, Summers. There’s room for you, me and the bit, and that’s it. It’ll be a tight squeeze as it is.” Although the vampire had grown fond of Dawn, he didn’t share Buffy’s separation anxiety. The week had been an irritating little foray into a situation to which he’d never given any thought, not even as a human. And now that it was over, he was relieved and more than happy to go back to his childless state of being.
 
Exhausted as he was, though, he still had the presence of mind to remember one thing. Reaching out for the Slayer before she had a chance to slip her shoes on, he hooked her by the waist and plopped her down in front of where he stood. Using his patented husky voice #4, he looked down at her and asked: “Do me a favour love--put on that dress that you got at Zairah’s, the Chinese one.” Leaning down, he brought his lips to her ear and whispered “But leave the knickers behind.”
 
Buffy’s eyes jumped open. “Are you insane?! I’m not going to the Council without any underwear on!” Quieter, as if they weren’t alone in the room, she leaned in and added: “What if someone sees?” Really, Spike’s libido had taken finally taken over his brain.

Wait. He was a guy. This was normal.
 
The vampire knew that she’d put up a fuss. Dragging his hands to the young woman’s hips, he splayed his fingers over them, gripping strongly. As he begged, “Please”, he pulled her back against his erection. It had been a week since they’d been able to do anything. Anything besides going solo, and that didn’t suit Spike in the least; not when he had a warm body pressed against him, obviously as aroused as he was.
 
Her agreement was uttered in a shaky voice. Buffy didn’t know what he was up to, but she had an inkling that she wouldn’t be minding it in the least. Walking backwards towards the bedroom, her hand held his until she was out of reach.
 
This was going to be one hell of a hard trip for both of them.
 
***
 
She was up against the wall before the door was even closed. Spike’s mouth covered hers feverishly, tongue darting out to taste her, teeth nipping at her lower lip. His hands were everywhere at once, freeing her hair from the loose bun into which she’d quickly styled it, sliding down her body, following the satiny fabric of her dress until they’d reached its hem.
 
The delivery of the baby had gone down without a hitch. Buffy had given Dawn a kiss goodbye and tried very hard not to get too weepy. Even Spike had touched the tip of his index finger to the tot’s nose--the closest he’d ever get to letting Council members see his attachment to the special girl. And then they were off, free to spend the next few days to do as they wished.
 
Against her body’s pleading, Buffy’s better judgement fought Spike off the whole ride home. In the elevator, in the underground garage, in the car... Even in the hotel lobby, with Hetty nowhere to be seen. But now, back in the safety of their room at the Sheffield Arms, she finally gave in to her need for him.
 
A groan escaped her lips as the vampire’s fingers traced their way up under her dress, skimming the swell of her rear, the curve of her hips. Even their first time, only about a week ago, Buffy hadn’t felt the same need for Spike’s touch.
 
“Christ, Buffy. I can’t wait. Can’t fucking wait anymore... Need to be in you so bad, need to have my cock so far up your tight quim...” Spike knew he was babbling, but it was all true, every word and every emotion behind them. If he didn’t feel himself surrounded by her heat, he was going to lose his sanity. “One week... one week doesn’t seem like much, but when it’s with you it’s for bloody ever.” He pulled his lips from the column of her neck just long enough to lock his gaze onto hers, making sure that she was ok with this.
 
The fevered look on the young woman’s face--cheeks flushed, eyes darkened, lips swollen--was all the go-ahead he needed. There would be time later for foreplay, for taking it slowly, for soft caresses. Right now, what both blondes desperately needed was instant physical gratification.
 
When the vampire drove himself deep into the Slayer’s pussy, his desire only grew. Pounding her small body against the wall mercilessly, he dug his fingers into her hips to steady her, to keep his thrusts as deep as he could. She was like liquid heat surrounding him, her skin burning him even through the fabric of her dress. Her moans matched his every grunt as he pistoned into her, driving himself closer and closer to a much-sought release.
 
Buffy felt the tell-tale tingle of an impending orgasm but didn’t fight it. This was all about working off excess lust, ridding them of a week’s worth of pent-up desire. She brought her mouth to Spike’s ear and traced its shell with her tongue, nibbling on its lobe. “God, I love you. I love how you don’t hold back, how you fuck me so hard it almost hurts--but it feels so good. I can feel your cock filling me, stretching me. I want you in me so deep I can taste it when you come. You’re the only one for me, Spike. Ahh, please don’t stop...” Her head flew back, neck bared in invitation as her body was strung taut with the nervous energy of her release.
 
He’d been holding back, hoping against hope for this invitation. Spike’s own orgasm hit as his teeth sank into the Slayer’s neck, pulling in her rich blood as he poured his cold seed deep into her womb.
 
They sank to the floor, still intimately connected. When he heard Buffy snicker, the vampire pulled his head back to look at her. “What’s so funny, love?”
 
Tenderly pushing a stray curl away from his forehead, the young woman smiled. “I was just thinking that at least this time we’re already home. No having to worry about anyone seeing us like this.”
 
Spike chuckled. “I like you like this. All debauched.” At her blank stare and raised eyebrow, he laughed even harder. “Well-shagged, love. That’s what I mean. You glow, you know that? Right after you come, and you return to your senses, your face just shines...” Effulgent was the word he wanted to use, but even after a century the word was still a sore point for the vampire. Reaching over to place a kiss on the tip of his lover’s nose, he pulled away from her and made to stand. “Now, what do you say we unplug the phone, lock the door and the windows and try our luck with the bathtub? Third time lucky, they say...”
 
***
 
Buffy sat on the bathroom counter, bare legs swinging back and forth. The tub was full of hot water and tons of bubbles. All that was missing was Spike. How long could it take to lock everything up?
 
Her head turned towards the door when she finally heard the handle move. She was just about to say something witty--maybe tease him about no longer being into the bathtub idea, but the look on his face stopped her short.
 
Amber eyes locked with hers as his hand drew back, deftly closing the bathroom door behind him. There was no smirk lifting the corners of his mouth, no softness to his features. Just pure lust. Buffy’s legs stilled, but her heart rate doubled. There was no kidding herself--she was scared. And that turned her on for some twisted reason.
 
He’d secured the door, closed the windows (damn things didn’t have locks), pulled the phone’s cord out of its jack, and leaned against the bathroom door, trying to get a grip. Their earlier encounter had done nothing to assuage Spike’s need for the Slayer--quite the opposite, it had fuelled it. Made his need for her so strong that he had to fight back his demon, wrest control of his actions back from its clutches. If he walked in there without calming down just a bit, he honestly didn’t know what to expect. This wasn’t like the encounter in the car, with the Slayer part of Buffy. This is what happened when he spent a stressful week at his mate’s side, never being able to touch her, or to go beyond a few fervent kisses stolen between naps and caring for the baby.
 
But now as he faced her, fear and arousal coming off her in waves, he found himself struggling with his demon yet again. Her eyes were large, her irises dilated; her heart hammered so soundly that his skin hummed in tune with its beat. And Spike found that he wanted to cede--just a little--to the monster in him. After all, it did seem to be turning her on...
 
Buffy watched the vampire’s eyes flash to blue before returning to their amber shade. Slightly relieved--to her it was a sign that Spike was still in control of himself--she cocked an eyebrow and offered him a coy smile. Her playfulness returned to desire as he began to walk towards her. Slow, calculated steps made it appear as if he was prowling; he moved with a liquid grace, pale skin sliding over sinuous muscles.
 
When he reached her, there were so many things Spike wanted to do to his Slayer. But first things first, he thought, as his fingers moved to the topmost button of the silk dress. He fought not to rip the garment, to take his time. Leaning into the young woman, he pressed his lips against his mark, growling low.
 
“Oh God, Spike...” Buffy’s breathing was coming in short bursts, and her hands flew to his shoulders to steady herself. Every single time they’d been together, whether it was a slow coupling or a rough fuck, he surprised her. With his gentleness, with his passion, with all the things he could do with those fingers of his... Oh, and his tongue--can’t forget his tongue--which was now tracing the edge of her ear, his cool breath tickling her.
 
Trembling fingers finally popped the last silk-covered button, parting the smooth fabric to reveal the young woman’s naked body. The corners of his lips curled upwards, and blue eyes speckled with gold lifted to face her, scarred brow arched.
 
The Slayer dragged a finger up the vampire’s chest, tracing the line of buttons that adorned his shirt. Coquettishly, she looked up at her lover from beneath hooded lids. “Figured my bra could be considered ‘knickers’ too...”
 
“Oh, that it can, love. That it can.” Spike closed his eyes and leaned his head back as Buffy began to remove the black button-down he was wearing. Her small hands were warm against his skin, making it tingle wherever she touched him. He took a step back when prompted to do so, and heard her slide off the counter, landing softly on her feet. As her hands reached the fly of his jeans, he felt her mouth at his nipples, tongue teasing and teeth nipping. His own hands flew to the sides of her dress, gathering fistfuls of the silken fabric, pulling her closer to him.
 
It just figured. Right when her Slayer dexterity was needed, it flew out the window. Buffy was all thumbs as she tried to rid Spike of his jeans; her hands shook, her fingers kept slipping... Wriggling her shoulders, she managed to free herself of the dress. Maybe that’s what was cramping her style.
 
Turning them around so that the vampire now backed against the marble counter, the young woman fell to her knees before him. If she faced her problem perhaps she could overcome it. Yeah, right. The only reason you’re on your knees is so you can face nine inches of solid vampire... But her plan worked, as she managed to ease his jeans down over his hips. Buffy looked up at the bleach blonde, seeing that his eyes were still closed and his hands held the countertop in a white-knuckled grip. Debauched--she wasn’t sure what the exact meaning of the word was, but she was sure it defined Spike at the moment. Head thrown back, shirt open, pants halfway down his legs, cock jutting out proudly. Yup. This was one debauched vampire. It was good to turn the tables every once in a while.
 
Spike’s knees almost gave out when he felt the Slayer’s tongue dart out to capture the first gleaming drop of pre-cum from his cock. Opening his eyes, he looked down at her as she kneeled between his legs, small hands gripping his hips for balance. Had he been able to, he would have changed positions--maybe sat up on the counter, or down on the floor--to make it easier on her, but he was physically unable to move. Frozen on the spot, like one of Medusa’s victims, he could but look down at the blonde beauty ministering to his desire.
 
As she took him into her mouth, Buffy couldn’t help but think back to a year ago when Anya was trying to convince both her and Willow of the joys of giving oral sex. The two younger girls had just stuck their tongues out, making gagging noises at the the ex-demon’s rant on how arousing it was to lave attention onto one’s partner’s privates. But now that she had Spike pressed up against the bathroom counter, panting and writhing and moaning, she had to admit that Anya’d been right. She could hardly imagine anything more erotic than knowing that you can turn your lover to jelly with your mouth.
 
She alternated between licking and sucking, changed speeds, and sometimes used her hand along with her mouth. Judging by the vampire’s severe reaction to a very loud and sloppy technique--hell, she almost had to hold him up when his knees damn near went out on him--Buffy knew exactly what to do to make him crazy.
 
“Buffy, love...” Spike was finding it difficult to speak while her tongue was tracing his erection’s underside, putting just enough pressure to drive him insane, yet not enough to help him find relief. “Hold on for a sec.” And those were not the words he’d ever expect to catch himself saying while receiving a blowjob. When she stopped and looked up at him, her own eyes reflecting the lust that he was sure appeared in his, he continued. “Are you going to see this through?”
 
“Do you mean, ‘am I going to keep my lips wrapped around your cock until I make you come, and swallow every last drop’?”
 
Fuck. What more could he say to that but a choked ‘yeah, that’?
 
Buffy smiled up at her lover, relishing the power she held over him. He was obviously out of sorts, or he would have realized just how aroused this was making her. Gaze never faltering, she uttered the word he wanted to hear: “yes.”
 
“Good. Then put your mouth back on my cock and keep it there. I can’t take any more of this teasing, Buffy...” His hands went to the Slayer’s head and guided it back to his erection. There was no malice in his words, no ill meaning. It was a plea, if nothing else.
 
Allowing the vampire to thrust into her mouth, Buffy held on to his thighs, feeling the corded muscles tense with his oncoming release. She was grateful that he was lucid enough to keep his thrusts shallow; this permitted her to accustom her throat muscles to his girth. At the moment where she felt him stiffen, she leaned forward, taking in his length in its entirety.
 
“Fuck! Oh, Christ...” Spike felt his muscles tense in anticipation of his climax. The Slayer’s throat was so tight, so hot--there was no more holding back. Roaring, he came, trying his best not to choke the woman pleasuring him. When the last of the aftershocks coursed through his system, he pulled out of her mouth and let himself slide down to the cool tiled floor, gathering her in his arms.