Spike became aware of several things as he slowly regained consciousness. First, there was blood in his mouth, which was nice in a way. It seemed to be coming from the warm, definitely female body laying a top him. His fangs were in the juncture between her neck and shoulder, but he wasn't feeding, only letting the blood barely trickle into his waiting mouth.
Secondly, there was a warm, definitely female body on top of him. However, there seemed to be material of some sort between him and her. His hands were under her shirt, touching the bare skin of her back.
Third, he was purring. He never purred.
Fourth, refer to warm, definitely female body lying on him.
Fifth, someone was playing the anvil chorus in his head.
Sixth, see the warm body in numbers one, two and four.
Spike slowly opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. Shaded light that was still too bright assaulted him, making the little men take up clog dancing in his brain. Shutting them quickly, he tightened his hold on said warm female and prayed to Atlas to stop the world. He really wanted to get off.
He inhaled purposely, trying to regain some equilibrium. The scent of vanilla underlying with power hit him and he knew instantly who the warm, female upon him had to be. His Slayer. His Buffy.
To whom he had his fangs in and was purring like a ridiculous cat.
The clog dancers started hitting gongs.
As he became more aware of his surroundings, he forced himself to stop purring like an idiot and focus on figuring out why his Slayer was on top of him, why he had his fangs still in her neck and why he was...naked?
After a quick move, to which the dancers switched to jackhammers, he found that he was indeed sans clothing under the Slayer. Buffy decided to stir at that moment and, despite the cacophony in his brain, a certain part of his anatomy sat up and took notice. He felt her sigh against his neck, her warm breath sending shivers right to his groin, making him do something just as bad as purring.
He whimpered like a dog.
Deciding enough was enough, he gently removed his fangs and let the human mask descend over his features. Of course, the people in his head found that was the time to strike up the band at ear shattering decibels and he tightened his hold on his Slayer again. It didn't help. Then again, he doubted anything but the removal of his head would help.
Buffy moved and he could tell she was waking up. Why she was waking up on top of him, he did not know. Not that he minded, although he would had preferred that she be unclothed as well. He whimpered again as she rubbed against his erection and he felt her raise her head. Carefully, he opened his eyes and met her hazel gaze. He swallowed heavily, trying to decipher the way she was looking at him. He doubted he could move fast enough, or at all, if she decided to pull out her trusty stake.
"Hi," Buffy said quietly, wondering how she got on top of him and why she wasn't moving. "How are you feeling?"
"Horny," Spike replied, then groaned. He couldn't believe he said that out loud.
"I can feel that," she said, then she groaned and blushed. She couldn't believe she said that out loud. She couldn't believe she still hadn't moved off him. "Um...other than that, I mean."
"Ask me again once the demons inside my head stop trying to get out," he answered. After studying her for a moment, he asked, "Is there a reason I'm in your bed without my trousers?"
"You don't remember?"
"Would I be asking if I friggin' remembered?"
"True," Buffy said. She suddenly grinned broadly and decided to get comfy on him. Folding her arms on his chest, she arched one hand, fingertips resting on her forearm and set her chin on the back of her wrist. "Well, let's see. Do you want me to start before or after you were wearing my bra?"
"I what?" Spike asked, eyes widening. The chorus went into a rousing rendition of Wake Up by Rage Against the Machine off the new Matrix soundtrack he'd gotten the other day.
"Or maybe I should start with finding you in my bathtub, talking to the bottle of body wash," Buffy continued, making a thoughtful face.
Spike groaned. "Never mind. I don't want to know."
"Then I probably should destroy that video taaaaipe!" Buffy suddenly found herself on her back under a threatening vampire. She tried not to, but soon she gave up and started laughing uproariously at him.
He growled, pinning her hands above her head. "Shut up, Slayer."
"Don't you mean Schlayer?" she asked innocently, then launched into another fit of laughter.
In response, Spike did the only thing he could think of to shut her up. He kissed her.
The little men in his head started applauding, but he ignored them. Instead, he concentrated on the feel of her soft lips, of her warm body beneath him. He expected to feel a stake through his heart, or at least her shoving him off, not the brush of her tongue against his lower lip. If possible, his erection grew even harder as the kiss deepened. Her tongue danced with his, playing erotically with his senses and sending those messages right to his throbbing member.
Buffy was thoroughly enjoying his talented mouth. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her nipples hardening as he lay over her. She could also feel the tip of his shaft against her bare abdomen where her shirt had ridden up. She knew she should do something to stop, after all he was a vampire and Giles frowned upon this sort of dalliances with them, but she really didn't want to. Really, really didn't want to.
Disjointed images were flickering through Spike's brain as he released her wrists. A worm wearing mouse ears, a sea of bottles with fingers in them, him screwing Buffy in a bathtub. The last one made him break off the kiss and stare down into her flushed face. "Did we shag in the tub?" he asked, a frown settling between his brows.
"What?" Buffy replied, breathing heavily.
"Did we shag in your tub?" he repeated.
"Um, no," she answered. "Although I did see you naked a lot." She gave him an impish smile. "You have a great ass," she told him as she reached around to squeeze his nether cheeks.
Spike yelped in surprise, arching up against her in reaction. This, in turn, caused him to groan as his cock rubbed on her shorts and stomach. "You are dangerous to be around, Slayer," he ground out, trying to collect his wits and his raging hormones. The little men started laughing at him as the tympani began playing. "Fuck, my bloody head hurts."
Hands still on his rear, Buffy chose to cross the line that had been blurred the previous night with his drunken revelations. Since they had begun to work together, they'd formed a sort of love-hate relationship where they loved to hate each other. Though she never admitted it to anyone but her diary, she liked him a lot more than she let on.
And now she was going to do something she'd fantasized about since the night she'd seen him leaning against a tree, waiting for her. The moonlight had been filtering through the leaves, casting light and shadows over his chiseled features. He had bent his head, hand cupped around his cigarette as he lit it, then raised it again as he put one foot back against the tree.
She had watched him smoke the entire cigarette, the only change in his position the raising and lowering of his hand. When he flicked it away, she none too calmly made her presence known. The slow smile that had spread across his face when he saw her had made her knees weak, and she had stumbled. That led to him making fun of her, as usual, and the spell over her had been broken and she'd had to live with her fantasies since. Until now.
"You know what they say the best cure for a headache is," she said barely above a whisper. His ice blue eyes changed from pain to startled arousal and she purposely arched her hips just enough to prevent any misunderstanding.
Spike growled deep in his chest, his mouth descending to capture hers in a searing kiss. Clog dancers be damned, he was not going to pass of an offering that he'd dreamed about for months. He remembered the first time he wanted her so badly he could taste it. She had been at the playground in the park, waiting for him, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a dark blue shirt with little white butterflies on it.
He had stood off in the shadows and watched as she did something completely idiotic. She had climbed one of the poles on the swing set and hoisted herself to her feet at the top. If his heart was active, it would have stopped as he watched her move along the metal bar like a tight rope walker. He'd wanted to strangle her for scaring him, but he also wanted to fuck her until she could no longer think about doing something like that again. And that was the first of many days he'd spent having intimate conversations with his hand. Until now.
He broke the kiss, panting heavily himself as one of the Harlem Globetrotters thought the world would make a good basketball. "Cor, Slayer, I want you so bloody much, but I don't think I can do this," he said, keeping his eyes shut to try and balance himself.
Slowly, she pushed him until he was on his back. "Why don't you just lay here and relax," she said as she pulled off her t-shirt and boxers while he was not looking. She was so very wet and ready for him, even without any foreplay other than kissing. As she straddled him, she took his length in her hand causing him to hiss, but not to open his eyes. "And I'll do all the work."
That statement had his mind rolling with the possibilities as her hand caressed him. He wanted her, wanted to bury himself in her heat, but his own stupid hangover was preventing him. He started to make a mental note never to drink again when his eyes shot open as she slid down onto his cock. "Oh fuck, Slayer," he moaned, grabbing her hips with his hands.
She started riding him, going up and down without barely moving him at all. She was hotter than he'd ever imagined and extremely tight. Each time she raised herself, she squeezed him, then relaxed on the way back down. Her bare breasts swayed enticingly above him and he slowly sat up, capturing one pebble-like nipple in his mouth. She made a throaty sound of pleasure, her hands weaving into his hair, holding him to her as he suckled her tit.
Spike's actions were sending bolts straight down Buffy's body to her core. His hands were around her back, holding him to her as he moved to her other breast, lavishing the same attention on it as he did the previous one. She did not increase her pace, however. She kept up the same steady tempo as she brought him in and out of her.
His mouth left her breast and he lowered himself back onto the bed, his eyes drinking her in. He was close to cumming and he wanted to bring her with him. His left hand moved from her side and dipped into her folds, finding her nubbin. With his thumb, he began to rub the hard button back and forth, watching as his cock appeared and disappeared beneath her nest of curls. She started whimpering, her pace picking up until she suddenly clamped down on him hard, sending him over the edge. "Fuck, Buffy," he growled, thrusting up to meet her as he spilled his seed into her core.
Buffy shook as an orgasm tore through her body, her vaginal muscles clenching around his shaft. "Spike," she gasped as the waves washed over her, her head falling back. Her climax seemed to go on forever and she could no longer breathe. A low moan emitted from her throat before she went limp, the only thing preventing her from falling on him was her hands as she went forward.
They stared at each other with unreadable expressions before she climbed off of him. Buffy grabbed her t-shirt and threw it on, then left the bedroom, pulling the door shut once again behind her. Spike lay there, stunned, not quite sure as to what just happened. Why would she leave? Growling to himself, he climbed out of bed and slid on his jeans which he found on the floor. Then, he went to find her.
"Slayer?" Spike called, knocking on the bathroom door. A second later, she opened the door and gestured for him to enter, shutting it behind him. When she faced him, he tried to brush her hair back from her face, but she shied away from him. "What is it?"
"In case you hadn't noticed, we just had sex," Buffy scowled at him.
"Of course I bloody well noticed," he replied. "I was there. But what the fuck does that have to do with anything?" The little men picked up their pick axes and began to chop at backs of his eyes.
"You, me, vampire, Slayer, soulless, soulful, killer, kill-ee" she stated. "Getting the picture?"
Spike rubbed his temples, wondering why everything with women was always complicated. Couldn't they enjoy themselves without thinking too much? "You're the one who took control," he countered. "I don't see why your fucking dander is up. You knew exactly who and what I was before you rode me into the best orgasm I've had in a long while."
"I know," Buffy said quietly. He opened his eyes to see her staring intently at a spot on the floor. "I'm just all confused."
"Come here," he instructed, reaching out to pull her into his arms. This time, she didn't move away and she put her own arms around his waist. "Now, what's this really about? And don't lie to me, or I'll send the wankers in my skull after you."
Buffy half chuckled, half sighed and snuggled into his chest. Finally, after a few minutes of allowing herself to be held, she replied, "I feel guilty."
"Guilty?" Spike asked, confused. "Why for?"
"You know - Angel, your sire, my not boyfriend..."
For some reason, that made her giggle as the irony of his statement hit her. "I think we've both done that before and look where it's gotten us."
"One of these days they're going to write a book on women," he grumbled.
"They have," she said, raising her head to look at them. "Only you men don't seem to know how to read."
Spike made a face at her and she laughed. "Cor, pet, you are the most bloody ridiculous little girl I've ever had the pleasure of shagging."
"So, what now?" Buffy asked, serious once more.
"Now, we go back to your room, find a stake and use it to poke my eyes out," he replied, looking past her. "Then we'll let you try and cure my headache again and what the fuck is all that?"
"What?" she said, turning to look behind her. She saw the tub full of bottles. "Oh, that. You did that. I hope mom isn't going to throw a fit when she gets home from work later."
"Me?" Spike said, incredulously, counting the number of bottles.
"You were plowed, Spike," she told him. "In fact, I think the entire state of Ohio after a Buckeye's game is more sober than you were last night."
"Ha, bloody, ha, Slayer," he replied. He narrowed his eyes, then groaned. "Cor, there's messages in the bottles."
Buffy released him and pulled one out of the tub. She dumped the bottle upside down, shaking it until she could get hold of the paper, then pulled it out. Unrolling it, she cleared her throat dramatically and read, "Sluffy." She arched a brow at him. "Sluffy?"
Spike shrugged. "How the hell should I know? I don't remember writing them."
She set the bottle and paper down, then grabbed another one. "I love Sluffy," she read before looking up at him. "What is it with you and this Sluffy chick?"
Spike was embarrassed to say the least. "Um...my head is going to friggin' explode. I'm going to go lay down and...right."
He quickly left the bathroom with her calling after him, "Sluffy must have her work cut out for her, putting up with you!"
Several minutes later, Spike felt the bed shift and an ice pack replace the pillow that was over his head. He dared to open his eyes to see Buffy giving him a thoughtful look. "What? Come to make fun of the dead?"
"I just thought I'd let you know that Sluffy digs you, too," she replied. "Get it? Digging, dead?"
He groaned at her horrible pun. "Slayer, you don't deserve to live after that...whatever the fuck it was."
"When you're feeling better, I'll let you kill me, ok?" Buffy said.
"What say I shag you to death?" Spike suggested with a wicked grin.
"Only if you're up for it," she replied, dead pan.
"That's it," he growled, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down on top of him. She giggled, then adjusted herself so she was laying as she had been when they'd first woke up. Only this time, she was the one who's naked body was pressed flush against his semi-clothed one. "Tell me if this isn't bloody deja vu."
"I have a suggestion," Buffy said.
"I'm all horny," he replied, smiling rakishly at her.
"Then how about we try to get rid of that headache again the old fashioned way?" she said, brushing her breasts against his bare, muscular chest.
"I think I should warn you..." Spike trailed off, pulling her face closer to his, their lips almost meeting.
"It's possible that I'm going to have this headache all bloody afternoon and into the night."