You Just Fall

by Saber ShadowKitten

The patronage at the club picked up as ten o'clock rolled around. Buffy had finished her Coke long before while sitting at a corner table, people watching. Every so often, she would glare daggers at the Latin senorita at the bar until the woman got up to dance. Then she glared daggers at the woman on the floor, but they were ones of jealousy. The woman could really dance.

The live Mexican band played everything from current top-forty Latin hits to traditional. Buffy watched as people sambaed, tangoed, salsaed, rhumbaed and cha-cha'd as the music changed. The fast songs were very catching, and the Slayer wanted to dance, but she forced herself to wait for Spike's appearance. She told several young hombres "luego" and gave them promising smiles.

Eleven o'clock crept closer and still no sign of the blond vampire. She was debating whether or not to give up and try another club, or take up the dance offers, when she saw him. Her jaw hit the floor and her eyes grew round as circles at his appearance. **Oh. My. God. Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot. Wow,** she thought, as he moved through the crowd with graceful ease.

Spike's white-blond hair was slightly longer and it shone in sharp contrast to the predominately dark-haired patrons of the club. His pale, marblesque skin was in equal disparity with the Latin crowd. His clothing, however, was what caught her attention. Gone were the black jeans, matching t-shirt and leather duster. In their place was a loose, dark green shirt tucked into a pair of black chinos that outlined his leg muscles with each step he took.

To her fertile imagination, he looked like a rogue or a pirate or one very sexy man. **Bad Buffy, don't think of Spike as sexy,** she thought as she watched him walk towards the dance floor. **Sexy is bad. Sexy is very bad. Sexy does not equal Spike, so stop drooling.**

Buffy watched as women flocked around him like he was an idol, and she felt a bolt of jealousy shoot through her. Cursing them under her breath, she shifted in her seat to be able to see him better. She saw the woman from earlier make a beeline for him and she invented new obscenities to describe her.

Then she saw him smile at the woman and pull her up against him, and her cursing turned into a low growl before she managed to stop herself. **Get a grip, Buffy. This is Spike. Who cares if that Latina Barbie is plastered up against him like paint to a wall. Jeez, could you maybe let him breathe a little, lady?** She realized the stupidity of her last thought and groaned.

The band effortlessly slid from the song it had been playing to a new one. She recognized it immediately, having heard the Ricky Martin hit on the radio over and over again back home. She looked around for the Latin superstar, wondering if the band was just doing a cover or if he was actually at the club.

Instead of finding the performer, she found the patrons on the dance floor clearing a spot, just like in the movies, with Spike and the woman in the middle. Buffy stood up and moved to the edge of the seating area as the lyrics of the song began in Spanish. Her eyes widened again when she saw them begin to dance. **Spike can dance?!**

La reina de la noche
La diosa del vudú
Yo no podré salvarme
Podrás salvarte tú?
La tela de la araña
La uña del dragón
Te lleva a los infiernos
Ella es tu adicción
Te besa y te desnuda con su
baile demencial
Tú cierras los ojitos y te
dejas arrastrar,
Tú te dejas arrastrar...

**Ho-boy, can Spike dance,** Buffy thought, watching them on the dance floor. The two of them flowed together to the quick salsa, their movements smooth and graceful, and at the same time quick and exciting. They used the entire area that had been cleared away, and the Slayer wondered briefly if this was a nightly occurrence.

Ella que será
She's livin' la vida loca
Y te dolerá
Si de verdad te toca
Ella es tu final,
Vive la vida loca
Ella te dirá
Vive la vida loca
Vive la vida loca
She's livin' la vida loca.

Buffy was getting hot from just watching them. She imagined what it would be like to dance with Spike like that, and she flushed as desire rushed through her system. She wanted his hand to be up on her thigh like it was that woman's, to have him pressed up behind her, his hands running down her upraised arms to barely miss brushing over her breasts before traveling to her waist.

Se fue a New York City
A la torre de un hotel
Te ha robado la cartera
Se ha llevado hasta tu piel.
Por eso no bebía,
De tu copa de licor
Por eso te besaba
Con nanrcótico sabor,
Es el beso de calor...

**Oh god, I want Spike!** she thought with horror. **I can't want Spike. He's...he's...Spike!** But as he twirled the woman away from him and brought her flush up against his body, so they were pressed intimately together, she felt her vaginal muscles clench and the flood of wetness that she hadn't felt in a long time. She really wanted Spike. She was in deep, deep trouble.

Ella que será
She's livin' la vida loca
Y te dolerá
Si de verdad te toca
Ella es tu final,
Vive la vida loca
Ella te dirá
Vive la vida loca
Vive la vida loca
She's livin' la vida loca.

Suddenly, her mind flashed to the one part of the video, where Ricky Martin and the girl were on a settee, and she was very much sans clothing. The images of herself and Spike superimposed over the two in the video, and she grabbed the low railing before her knees went out from under her. She shook the image away, but it was replaced by Spike provocatively dancing with her instead of the woman.

Te besa y te desnuda
con su baile demencial,
Tú cierras los ojitos y te dejas
Tú te dejas arrastrar...
Ella que será
She's livin' la vida loca,
Y te dolerá
Si de verdad te toca
Ella es tu final
Vive la vida loca
Ella te dir'a
Vive la vida loca

**I don't think I can take much more,** Buffy thought as she watched them. Spike held the woman and slowly dipped her back until her head was almost touching the ground, her body pressed between his strong legs. His tongue shot out and licked the hollow of her throat and a shock ran through the Slayer. She could almost feel him doing the same to her and she made a small sound of sexual want.

Ella que será
She's livin' la vida loca
Y te dolerá
Si de verdad te toca
Ella es tu final,
Vive la vida loca
Ella te dirá
Vive la vida loca
Vive la vida loca
She's livin' la vida loca.

Vive la vida loca, bebé,
Livin', livin', livin' la vi!

The song ended and the band started a new one immediately to a smattering of applause. Dancers returned to the floor, making Spike disappear in the sea of people. Standing on her toes, Buffy searched for that shock of peroxide-blond hair and finally found him heading towards the bar. Rushing over to the bar herself, she managed to claim a stool and put on an air of disinterest before he approached. Her heart, however, was pounding and she felt like a live wire, her skin tingling.

"Juan, la aqua diablo, por favor," she heard Spike say to the bartender, the Spanish words rolling off his lips with ease. The British accent sent shivers down her spine. **Stop. Wanting. Spike!** she told herself firmly. **He is evil. Bad. Rude. Sexy. Wants to kill you. Wait, I heard that sexy slip in.**

She was so into convincing herself not to want Spike, she almost missed when he spotted her. Catching herself from making a complete fool of herself by calling him sexy to his face, Buffy put on her best 'I'm here to make you into a pile of ashes' smile and said, "Hello, Spike. Fancy meeting you here."

**Holy shit, the Slayer!** Spike thought, his eyes widening in surprise. Buffy was someone he never ever thought he'd see again, especially not in Mexico wearing a tight blue sundress that set off her dark tan and made him want to find out if she had tan lines. **Bloody hell!**

Buying himself some time to regroup, he grabbed the shot Juan set on the bar and tossed it back. The 'devil water', as Juan's specialty drink was called, burned its way down to his stomach. He'd normally have a second one before finding a willing woman for the night, like the one he'd been dancing with, but the appearance of the blond beauty sitting on the stool near him dashed all thoughts of bedding one of them. Not when his fantasy was right there.

"Slayer," Spike finally greeted in return. He set the shot glass on the bar and shook his head no when Juan went to refill it. He concentrated on sounding as disinterested as possible and speaking in English. He'd been in Mexico long enough to have slipped into speaking the dialect without thinking first, such was his aptitude for languages, except Latin, but that wasn't a common language to know. He also rarely met anyone who spoke English unless he went down to the strip, which wasn't too often. "What brings you all the way from Sunnyhell?"

"I heard that you were doing the Fred Astaire thing, so I thought I'd come down and see for myself," Buffy replied, a smirk on her face. She slowly looked him over from head to toe, blatantly pausing at the tightness over his crotch, before returning her eyes to his face. It only caused her to become more aroused, but she wanted to at least try to look like she didn't care. "Nice outfit."

He shrugged. "It's only clothing."

"This coming from a man who hasn't changed his in decades," she said. Crossing her legs, she felt a tingle of pleasure course through her when his eyes darted to them. **Spike, remember? No more vampires,** she told herself. Then she uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them the other direction on purpose, just to see him look at them again. He didn't disappoint her.

**Cor, does the little chit know what's she's doing?** Spike thought, his eyes tracing the vast expanse of thigh that was showing as she re-crossed her legs. Turning his body to face the bar so she wouldn't see the effect she was having on his libido, he asked, "How's the great poofwad?"

Buffy frowned. She didn't want to think of Angel. She wanted to find a nice, solid table and screw Spike on it. **Woah! Down girl. Sleeping with the enemy is a name to a movie, not something to do in real life,** she told herself. "Angel is fine."

He arched a brow at the tightness of her words. "Trouble on Lover's Lane?"

"Spike, drop dead," she growled.

A slow smile crossed his face. "Too late."

"Now I know why I wanted you to leave a year and a half ago," she muttered, turning on the stool to face the bar, trying not to let his sexy smile excite her further. She didn't notice that her action caused her dress to ride up even higher, almost baring her hip.

Spike noticed, and growled low and deep in his chest. She looked over at him with a frown and he clenched his teeth together and forced his gaze away from the tan length of her leg. He was literally aching to find out if she had tan lines. "Slayer, why are you here?" he ground out.

"Why am I here?" Buffy repeated, then blushed. **Good going, Buffy. Sound like a complete moron, why don't you.** She pulled the pictures from her pocket and looked at them. It was funny now that she was less than two feet from Spike, she knew that he and William were not one in the same. "Actually, I came looking for you."

He blinked at her in surprise. "Qué?"

She put the pictures on the bar and slid them towards him. "I got to come to Mexico for the week to find you. All expenses paid, courtesy of the Watcher's Council. Cool, huh?"

"Er, right," Spike replied, taking the pictures. He frowned when he saw them. "Where'd you get pictures of me?"

"That's not you," Buffy said. He turned his frown on her. "His name is William Bradley Sullivan. He's a transfer freshman at USunnydale."

Spike jerked his gaze back to the pictures in shock. "Pero ese es mi nombre!" he blurted before he could stop himself. **Good going, wanker.**

"I know it's your name," she replied smugly. "William Bradley Sullivan, born April 16, 1782 to Bradley Joseph and Mary Eloise Sullivan. You had six siblings; two brothers and two sisters, a brother-in-law, a sister-in-law, one niece and two nephews. You killed everyone but your brother, John, on March 25, 1806. He got married in 1813 and you're looking at your great-great-great-great-great-great nephew. Well, I think that's enough greats."

"Bugger," Spike said, leaning heavily against the bar. "I thought John Thomas died from the influenza while he was in the military."

"Don't sound too excited about still having family, Spike," Buffy said, taking the pictures away from him. She looked at them once more, then tucked them in her hidden pocket. William really didn't look anything like Spike, and she wondered why she didn't realize it sooner.

Spike wasn't paying attention to her words, however, he was too busy turning over the fact that he hadn't killed his brother in his mind. When he'd been turned by Angelus, the first thing they'd done was to go to his home and murder his family. Back then, it had been a thrill and a powerful rush, now that he looked back on it, it was more of a blemish on his mind rather than something to be proud of. What kind of tosser killed their own family?

"Hey, birthday boy," Buffy said, waving her hand in front of his face. "You home in there?"

Spike turned and scowled at her. "It's not my birthday."

"It is on Saturday," she replied. "Let's see that would make you..."

She leaned forward on her elbows on the bar and Spike had a clear view down the front of her dress. **Cor, I don't see any bloody tan lines!** His lessening libido sprang right back up to attention at the thought.

"...Really, really old," she finished.

"Two-eighteen," he supplied in a forceful outrush of unneeded breath.

"I should bake you a big stake," Buffy said with a large grin. "Oops, my bad. I mean cake."

"Funny," he said.

Elena, the woman he'd been dancing with, approached him from the opposite side and slid her arm around his waist. "Diablo rubio, dónde as estado?"

"Aquí, Elena," Spike answered. He glanced at Buffy and saw that she was glaring daggers at the woman. **Is the Slayer jealous?** He reached down to Elena's other arm, which was resting on the bar in front of them, and stroked her dark skin. Buffy's eyes narrowed even further and her fists clenched. A purely male smile crossed his face. **She's jealous!**

"Quién es la niña?" Elena asked.

"Elena, esta es la pantera rubia," Spike said. "Slayer, this is Elena."

"We've met," Buffy said through clenched teeth.

**This could be good,** Spike thought. "La pantera rubia es una conocida en Norte Americá."

"Y en tú cama?" Elena asked, looking at Buffy with contempt.

"Ilusiones," Spike muttered to himself. **Having the Slayer in my bed is definitely wishful thinking.**

"Well, Spike, it sucked talking to you," Buffy said, standing. If she didn't get away from Lola Brigida, she'd give the woman a black eye. Plus, they kept speaking in Spanish and she hated that she didn't understand. "Adios."

"Pantera, espera!" Spike said quickly. When Buffy didn't stop, he cursed.

"Es una niña," Elena said, running her hands up Spike's back and lightly tugging on his blond hair. "Una bebé."

"She's more woman than you'll ever be," Spike growled and shook her off. Then he went after the Slayer.

Part Three

Spike saw her get on the bus outside of the club and he cursed again. With a quick dash, he hopped up through the doors just as they were closing. Dropping his twenty centavos in the box, he made his way down the aisle and sat down next to Buffy. "I asked you to wait a minute, Slayer," he said.

Buffy glared at him. "Where's your ho? I'm surprised you were able to get away from her spread legs."

"Ouch, Slayer," he said. "You're getting waspish in your old age."

"I thought I was a child," she said, emphasizing the word Elena kept using.

He chuckled. "You're anything but a niña, Slayer."

Buffy frowned at him. **Did he just compliment me?** She shifted on the hard, plastic seat.

Spike's eyes darted down to her legs again and one side of her mouth curled up. **Somebody likes a great pair of legs.**

Spike cleared his throat and dropped his hands from the seat in front of him to his lap to cover the telltale bulge that signified he was thinking about her legs being wrapped around him as he pounded into her. It was one of many fantasies he's had about the Slayer since he'd left Sunnydale the second time. "Er, pantera. Dónde esta tu motel?"

"Speak English, Spike," Buffy said, glaring at him. "Better yet, don't speak at all."

"Someone's a little edgy," he said, mentally adjusting his language before speaking. "What's wrong, Slayer? Your knickers in a twist over something?"

**More like they want to be off,** she thought. **How can he be so...grr, and so sexy at the same time?** She shifted in her seat again when his lips curled up in a smile that made her think of a cat who's captured the canary. "Spike, what do you want?"

He shrugged. "I thought we'd catch up on old times. You can fill me in on As The Hellmouth Turns. I forgot to set my VCR for it."

"Since when do you have conversations with Slayers?"

**Since I want to find out if you're as hot as I think you are,** he thought. "Unless you want to go dancing, pantera, there's not much else to do in Tampico."

**Dancing. Me and him. Pressed to those muscles. Ho-boy,** Buffy thought as she flushed slightly. "Um, talking is good. Talking is just fine. I excel at talking."

Spike wondered what brought the delectable flush to her skin so he could do it again. "Are you sure, Slayer? It's still early and the clubs are bloody fun places to get wicked on la pista de baile," he said. **Bingo.**

Buffy couldn't stop picturing herself dancing with Spike, or feeling his phantom hands as he caressed her body as they moved to the heady Latin music. Her breathing was becoming shallow and she prayed that he couldn't tell how aroused she'd become again. "No. I have to...slay," she said. "You know, sacred duty and all, even in Mexico. Gotta hunt those vamps."

"You found him," Spike said.


"I'm the only one. Tampico es mío."

"You're telling me that, in a city this size, you're the only bloodsucker?"

"Sí," he replied simply, a smug smile on his face.

"I don't believe you," Buffy said.

He shrugged. "It's the truth, Slayer."

"What about minions? You never were without them," Buffy said.

"No me gusta compartir," Spike answered, eyeing her hungrily, and not for her blood. **I definitely don't like to share**

"English, Spike. Use it," she said, feeling a rush of excitement by the way he was looking at her. **Or don't talk at all. There's other things you can do with your mouth.**

"Perdoname, pantera," Spike said, then gave her a lopsided grin. "Sorry. I'm used to speaking español."

"Did you just apologize to me?" Buffy asked in amazement.

"Did I?' he replied. "Bloody hell, why would I do that?"

She scowled at his teasing tone, then looked out the window. Noticing her stop was coming up, she stood. "Out of the way, Fred."

Spike stood and moved into the aisle, but positioned himself so she would have to brush against him. When she did, he had to swallow his groan as the scent of coconuts and vanilla hit him.

"Well, Spike, it hasn't been fun," Buffy told him as the bus slowed. "Stake you later."

Moving quickly, she was out the door of the bus the second it stopped. She rapidly walked towards her motel, unsure of whether she wanted him to follow her or not. Halfway there, she dared to look behind her and was disappointed to find he was not. **Wait a minute, Buffy. You can't be disappointed that Spike's not following you. This is Spike. Bloodsucking fiend ring any bells? You don't want him.**

However, she still needed to take a cold shower when she got back to her room.


Buffy frowned when she heard the knock at her door the next night. She had just finished getting dressed to go out dancing with some other college kids she'd met at the beach that afternoon. Wondering if they forgot she was going to meet them at the club, she opened the door as she said, "I thought we were going to- Spike!"

"Hola, mi pantera rubia," Spike practically purred as he let his eyes travel over her. She was wearing another short, low-cut sundress -- pink this time - with matching shoes. Her sun-bleached blond hair was pulled up and a few tendrils hung around her face.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy asked somewhat breathlessly. Spike had exchanged the green shirt for a black one, and if anything, he looked even sexier. She felt the telltale rush of arousal flood her system and cursed mentally at herself.

"I came to annoy you," he answered with a smile.

"In that case, you've succeeded wonderfully," she said. "Now get lost."


"What do you mean, no?" Buffy said. Spike grinned and shrugged in reply. She glared at him. "Go away, Spike, or you're dust."

"Very well," he sighed. "I guess I'll go see if Elena me baila." He turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, "Buenas noches, pantera."

Buffy growled and slammed the door shut, jealousy coloring her thoughts. **Go ahead, Spike. Go dance with that slut. She's probably spread her Latin legs for every señor in Mexico."

Grabbing her money and hiding it in the inner pocket of her dress, along with her motel keycard, she double-checked her small stake, then left her room. She was going to put the sexy blond vampire out of her mind no matter what.


Of course, it would help if the vampire in question cooperated. Buffy had gone to the club she'd agree to meet the others at, and had finally relaxed when Spike showed up -- with Elena. They immediately were all over each other on the dance floor and the Slayer's mood darkened.

**I'll show him!** she thought, setting down her drink. She stood and made her way to the edge of the dance floor. As predicted, a handsome Latino asked her to dance and she smiled seductively at him as she accepted.

**Get your bloody paws off my Slayer,** Spike thought when he saw Buffy and her dance partner. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he witnessed the man run his hand up her bare thigh and slightly under her skirt.

"Excusame, Elena," Spike said, releasing Elena. He ignored her protest and stormed across the floor. He tapped the shoulder of Buffy's dance partner, and when the man looked at him, his demon flashed to the surface. "Pierdete"

The Latin man nodded and practically bolted away from Buffy. Before she could say a word, Spike grabbed her around the waist and pulled her flush against him.

Buffy lost all capability of speech as his blue eyes burned into her. The music changed to a sultry beat, and he began to move to it. She fell into step with him, her body responding to the nearness of his.

One hand brushed down lower on her back to rest above the swell of her buttocks, the other caressed her hip before lowering down her thigh. He slid it behind the back of her leg and lifted it, holding her tight against him.

Buffy took a shaky breath when his hand traveled up the outside of her raised leg. She pressed her inner knee into his thigh as it slipped under the hem of her dress to caress her lower hip. Unconsciously, she licked her lips and his gaze shot to them. She could see hunger in his eyes, and she purposely ran her tongue over her lower lip again. She heard a growl emanate from him in response.

Spike slowly released her leg and she slid it down the outside of his. The hand that had brushed along her bare thigh ran up the side of her body, then around her back to rest between her shoulder blades. His other hand, at the curve of her lower back, pressed her even closer to him. She could feel the evidence of his desire for her beneath his pants and she grew wet in response.

She rocked her hips forward into him and his nostrils flared. The growl grew slightly louder and his eyes flashed with fire. Her heart pounded and her whole body tensed with want. She wasn't going to fight it any longer. She was going to have Spike, vampire or not. "Let's go," she told him in a breathy voice.

Spike's eyes flashed yellow as the words inflamed him further. He kept one arm around her as he turned and led them out of the club. The short walk back to her motel room was made in silence, the crackle of sexual electricity between them almost visible.

The door to her room was barely open when Spike grabbed her and smashed his mouth against hers. They practically fell through the doorway, the vampire not needing to be invited into the motel room. He managed to kick the door closed behind them, and walked her backwards to the bed, his tongue plundering her mouth.

Buffy's knees hit the back of the bed and she allowed herself to be pushed down upon it, her nails lightly scratching the nape of his neck. Spike broke away from her mouth and kissed straight down the column of her throat, stopping to swirl his tongue in the hollow, then continuing his way down to the valley between her breasts that peeked over the top of her sundress. One forearm braced his weight to the side, while a hand ran over her body, cupping her fullness through the material, as he kissed and the swell of her breast above it.

He massaged her breast for a moment, then let his hand run down the side of her body as his mouth moved onto the other curve exposed above her dress. He reached the bare skin of her thigh, then traveled back up under her hem, stopping when he felt a strange strap. Lifting his head, his desire-filled eyes looked at her questioningly as he tugged at the strap. It came undone with a small snap and her lips quirked up when he held up the thigh sheath for a stake.

Spike captured those lips again, tossing the stake and sheath over his shoulder, as he pushed past her teeth to do battle with her tongue. His hand returned to its exploration under her dress, and skimmed up her thigh until he felt the strap of her panties. He ran a finger under the strap to the back and cupped her buttocks, lifting her slightly into him. She moaned throatily as his erection pressed into her sensitive womanhood.

Her hands made their way between them and began working at the buttons on his black shirt. She got partway down, then pushed the material aside to touch his bare chest. His muscles tensed under her exploring fingers and he pulled away from her in order to remove his shirt completely, as well as toeing his shoes off. He took her hand and helped her to her feet, then turned her away from him.

He took hold of the zipper on the sundress and slowly brought it down, growling in appreciation when he didn't find a bra underneath. He pushed the material off of her shoulders and it fell to the floor to pool around her feet. She was wearing a thong, and the dark color set against her tan skin made him swell even harder. Gently, he urged her forward on the bed so she was laying on her stomach across it. He removed her shoes, then began to slowly kiss his way up one leg, over the curve of her buttocks, only to stop and repeat his action on the other one.

When he reached her lower back again, he kissed each vertebra as he made his way up her body. Reaching her neck, he bit gently with his blunt teeth her nape, then kissed her shoulder and whispered, "Turn over."

Buffy complied, her body thrumming from his ministrations. She watched his eyes darken and heard his sharp intake of unneeded breath, as he took in her almost nude form. "No tan lines," he hissed, his eyes sweeping over the vast expanse of continuously tan skin to the dark panties.

Half over her on the bed, he captured her mouth again, kissing her masterfully. Buffy ran her hands along his arms, feeling the strong muscles of his forearms and biceps, and up over his powerful shoulders. She continued skimming along his bare skin, down over his shoulder blades and his back until she reached his lean waist. She ran her fingertips around the waistband of his pants, daringly moving underneath to scratch the swell of his taut buttocks.

Spike moaned and thrust against her leg, then broke away from her mouth to move down her body and tease a pebble-like nipple with his teeth and tongue. Her fingernails scratched up his back as he went down, causing him to shiver. She whimpered in pleasure as he worried her nipple, and he purred lightly in response. Moving to her other breast, he repeated his ministrations, suckling her until she moved her hips, seeking more.

Granting her body's request, he kissed and licked his way down her stomach, stopping to dip his tongue in her navel, then nip the soft swell of her abdomen. He hooked his fingers under the straps of her panties and dragged them down her legs, moving off the bed at the same time. He growled when he saw no tan lines marring the area surrounding her brown curls, and the sound filled the room.

Buffy felt a tingling under her skin at his deep growl, her legs falling open slightly in invitation as his eyes drank her in. He dropped to the edge of the bed and accepted, moving up between her legs to the apex of her thighs. He kissed one side of her inner leg, then the other before turning his attention on her sex.

She hissed when his mouth found her most sensitive spot. His tongue bathed her silken lips and vaginal opening, then flicked her extended nubbin. Her hands clenched around the top cover on the bed, bunching the material, as he latched onto her clit and began to suck it. Her whimpers turned to moans and cries of pleasure until she arched into his face as she climaxed.

Spike pressed his hand on her abdomen, holding her down as he drew out her orgasm. When she shuddered and fell limp, he thrust his tongue inside of her, lapping up her sweet juices.

He stood and removed his pants under her half-lidded gaze, and she licked her lips in appreciation when she saw his hard length jutting from his body. Moving above her, he captured her mouth again, forcing her to taste herself, as he drew her tongue into an erotic dance. Her hand dipped between their bodies to wrap around his shaft, stroking him until he groaned deep in his throat.

She positioned him at her opening, arching her hips in acceptance, and he thrust home with a snarl of pleasure. She wrapped her legs over his and pulled him down flush against her, and they fell into perfect rhythm together. A low rumbling started deep within Spike's chest, causing her vaginal muscles to clench around his manhood, and she shook from the sensation.

Spike tore his mouth away from hers and raised his head to stare down at her flushed and pleasure-filled face. His fantasy was coming true and he wanted to watch her go over the edge, hear her cry out his name as he drove her there. He shifted to move a hand between their bodies and fingered her clit and her eyes opened to meet his. "Venga para me, mi pantera rubia," he whispered. "Come for me, my blond panther."

With his words, Buffy flew over the edge into another orgasm, gasping out his name as she exploded, "Spike!" Her eyes squeezed shut and color burst behind her lids. Her body quaked, her inner muscles clenching and unclenching around his hard shaft. She heard him growl and thrust into her to the hilt, spilling himself deep within her as he joined her in paradise.

After they both calmed, Spike moved out of her and pulled her into the crook of his shoulder, holding her close against him. He lightly kissed her forehead and sighed, "Mi fantasía se a verto rialida." **My greatest fantasy, most bloody assuredly, come true.**

"Hmm?" Buffy asked languidly, snuggling against his bare chest.

"Nada, mi pantera," he replied. "Never mind."

"Tell me," she said, the second word coming at the beginning of a yawn. "Jeez, I'm tired. You wore me out."

Spike grinned. "It was my pleasure, Slayer."

"No, it was mine," Buffy said, then she let her eyes drift shut and fell into a peaceful sleep.