Chapter 1

Buffy


Absence makes the heart do strange things.

I missed him, but told myself it was just my imagination. I ached for him, but thought it was just a fever. I longed to hear his voice, but never picked up the phone. I wanted him, but told myself that I couldn’t have him.

As soon as I got home that afternoon, I washed off all trace of him and hoped that would be the end of it.

Denial is such a wonderful place to live your life. Memories fade, I told myself, and with luck those few hours that I’d spent with him would soon be just the vague recollection of an afternoon of madness. Something to look back on and cringe at. A shameful thing to keep locked in the furthest recesses of my heart. Something that would never be told. A story best forgotten.

But from that moment onwards, every blond – haired man I saw, was him, every leather coat was on his back. Every pair of boots was him walking towards me. The world was suddenly full of men pretending to be Spike. Coming into focus towards me. Making me panic, making me want to run away. Making my heart beat in a frenzy of anticipation. Making my hopes soar and then crash back to earth when I saw the deception.

But every time I found my feet walking towards his door I remembered who we both were. Every time I picked up the phone I remembered the things he’d said, and every time I woke up in the night on fire and wet for him I got myself off as quickly as I could using my own fingers, or that little battery operated appliance that no one knows about, and then I pushed him firmly from my mind.

And time did help, a little. After a while I got back into the routine of my life. I decided that Riley and I should be a little more adventurous in our sex life. I asked him to do things which surprised him, but his heart was never in it. He started to look sad, went kind of quiet, and kept asking me if I loved him.

I always said yes, but he didn’t believe me. For some reason I wasn’t enough for him and one night I found him writhing in ecstasy with a vampire clamped to his arm, sucking his blood, and for us, that was the end.

And the worse thing? I could understand why he was there. The mixture of fear and danger. The way each strong pull goes straight to the most sensitive spot on your body. It’s a rush like nothing else.

Spike gave me quite a leaving present as he drank my blood that afternoon. I came and came until I was holding him to me and begging him never to stop. It was him who pulled away, even as I scrabbled toward him, pleading for more. We put our hands on each other and gave in to one last heated caress as he sucked the wound clean, and for one brief moment of clarity, I understood what it was all about.

But I’m a bad, wicked girl to think such things, to want such things and this is my punishment. To compare every man I meet, for the rest of my life, to him. And to always find them wanting. Riley left me soon after that. At the last moment, I convinced myself that we could make it work, and that I could settle for second best, because life isn’t about finding perfection. Life isn’t about climbing the highest mountains and swimming to the bottom of the deepest seas. Life is about making do with the best that you can. I ran after him but he’d already gone. So I turned around and threw myself into my work.

I’m a slayer, and slayers don’t love vampires. They don’t find solace in their arms. They don’t almost come just by thinking about them. They don’t spend endless nights panting and sweating over their memories.

Do they? You’d think I’d have learnt my lesson with Angel.

But you don’t know what you want until it’s gone. Don’t know what’s important until life comes up and slaps you in the face with it. Because if you’re too stupid to see it, then what else can it do but hit you so hard that you have to take notice?

A few weeks after Riley left me mom collapsed and ended up in the hospital. The news wasn’t good and I knew we were going to lose her. It left me floundering and gasping for air. It left me thinking about what was important in my life. It was the night Spike first appeared at my window.

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Spike

I didn’t wash for days after. Got me some funny looks, but what the hell did I care? If I couldn’t sleep wrapped in her arms then I had to make do with her smell. It was everywhere, on the bed, in the air, on me. I put the shirt on my face while I got myself off, wore the damned thing, held it in bed with me, pretending it was her.

I told myself she’d come, and I waited. I told myself that for once in my life it wouldn’t be me doing all the running. It wouldn’t be me beating the path to her door. Prostrating myself at her feet. But hell, am I not the one and only, original fool for love? Isn’t this what I do? Fall in love with all the wrong women and then meekly hand them my heart so they can crush it underfoot?

I lasted four weeks. Four bloody weeks of watching every blonde head, skulking in the shadows trying to pick up her scent. Four weeks of constantly turning around because there she was flitting in the dark at the edge of my vision. Only to spin round and find that she wasn’t there.

It whipped me into such a frenzy of need and despair that I didn’t know what I wanted any more.

I only knew that she’d touched me somewhere and that place still burned. She’d left so much of herself behind that I could still feel her. And that she was the best that I’d ever had.

I growled and I glared, I pined and I yearned and after four weeks I gave in.

She wasn’t going to let me in. I had to threaten to wake up the whole neighbourhood before she opened the window, said the words and pulled me inside, dumping me unceremoniously on the floor. I could tell that something was wrong straight away. There was anger there and it was directed at me as she glared and asked me why I’d come, but it wasn’t about me.

I picked myself up and reached out for her thinking that if only I could get her to remember what we’d done, how it had been, what we’d felt, then it would all come rushing back and we’d just step right back into it. But it doesn’t work that way, does it? And I’m old enough to know it.

This was her world, her things around her, her clothes on the floor, her bed. But something wasn’t right with that cosy little world of hers. It was collapsing in on her and right then she was carrying it all on her shoulders. And she wasn’t about to tell me why.

I reached out for her and she flinched. I shouldn’t have been surprised, vampire remember? But I also remembered something else. The way she’d responded to the last time I’d touched her, how we’d said goodbye. How she’d clung to me even as she was pulling away.

So I touched her again, letting my hand rest lightly on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, and she let it rest there.

“Shh,” I told her, “Have you forgotten it so soon? When I remember every detail.” I let my hand slip into the neckline of the tee shirt she’d worn in bed, curving my fingers around her neck, trailed them down across her collar bone, pulling the material away.

“Have you forgotten this?” I asked her, exposing the small scar I’d left for her. I didn’t have to leave a scar, but she knew I would. I touched it gently, keeping my demon face in check as the bloodlust rose in me at the sight of it. She moved so that her cheek was resting on my hand.

“Yes,” she said, “I remember that.” Then she lifted her head and looked me straight in the eye. “It was a gift, freely given. I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re asking.”

She shook off my hand and walked away then, but she wasn’t running from me this time, not again. I matched her step for step as she backed away from me until she was flat against the wall, and she was trapped there for as long as she decided to be. I braced one arm beside her head and asked her what was wrong.

Even though I knew it wasn’t about me, I expected her to say it was. But she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Let me help,” I asked her, but she only shook her head and ducked out of the way. She ran across the room, flung herself face down on the bed and told me to go away.

I threw off my leather coat, walked across and sat down beside her. I could tell she was crying now and it didn’t seem right that I’d come here for sex when it was obvious that her heart was breaking. All I could do was sit beside her and pat her shoulder as she let it all go. Probably that wanker Riley, I thought. I’d heard he’d left town. I wondered if she’d cried like this for me.

I let my fingers linger as I comforted her and part of me knew that I was taking advantage. Knew how vulnerable she must feel right now. I knew full well how easy it would be to turn these feelings of anguish and pain to something else. I could already feel it happening. Her skin, the muscles, they were taut and wound up but as my hand started a slow rhythmic stroking up and down her spine I could feel them softening and relaxing.

I leaned in close and whispered to her. “Let me help you to remember,” I told her. “What it was like between us. I can make you feel better, even if only for a short time. Let me help.”

I can be very persuasive, especially when I want something this badly. Even with the chip I still liked to think I was a badass. So I just let my words roll over her as she lay there, face down on the quilt. Pretending that I wasn’t there. Pretending that I wasn’t getting through to her. And I joined in the game. Anyway she wanted to play it. Just as long as she wanted to play.

“I can see you’re hurting love,” I said. “Let it go for a bit. Give me an hour of your time. You can start the worrying again after that, but for the next hour it’ll be just you and me.” My hand went lower, my fingers curving around her buttocks, the tips of them delving between her legs. She made the smallest of movements and I could tell by the way her shoulders were shaking that she was trying her best to resist me. But some things just can’t be denied. I leaned closer. “Where’s Dawn?” I whispered.

“She’s asleep,” Buffy replied in a muffled voice, her face still hidden.

“Then we’ll have to be very quiet, won’t we?” I stopped to strip off my tee shirt and her head turned momentarily at the loss of contact, her eyes widening as she saw what I was doing.

“We can’t,” she said, wearily.

“Stop me anytime, love,” I told her. If you don’t want this, then I’ll go. Just say the words.”

She looked at me and then she rolled on to her back and spread her arms wide. She lay there with her eyes closed and didn’t say a thing. I stood up and took off my jeans.

Sometimes you don’t need words.

Tbc…

Chapter 2

Buffy

I’m not helping him. I don’t know why, because I already know I want him. Already know he’s going to bring me more pleasure than anyone ever has. I’m already wet and tingly, my nerve endings standing on edge for him. His hand is rubbing my back, firmly at first but turning gentler as he tunes in to my response. I want him to take the pain away, want him to mask it with something else, even if only for an hour. The world will come back soon enough but right now he’s here, and he’s willing to stand between me and whatever is coming. And I want him to do that.

Hell, I just want him.

What would people say to that? Buffy wants Spike. True. Carve it in a heart on the old oak tree. Write it in a letter to Santa. Get one of those airplanes to write it in the sky in smoke.

His fingers are between my legs now, just a suggestion of what is to come. This man knows how to tease. One minute he’s all ‘take it all, have it all’ and the next he’s Mr. ‘look what I’ve got, and you can have it too if you beg real nice.’

He knows my body better than I do. Knows just where to skim his fingers, knows just how long to linger. Knows that he can get me off just with the anticipation of what he’s going to do to me. He’s asked me to remember, and I do, Spike, every detail. Do you think I could forget that? I didn’t stay away because I wanted to. I stayed away because I had to.

And then he stops. I have to look, see why he’s moving away. Off comes the tee shirt and suddenly I’ve got a fever. I’ve been cold these last few days, but just the sight of him being revealed, little by little is enough to send my temperature soaring.

Enough to drown me in a cascade of memories. If anything can make the world go away, it’s him doing this. But I can’t ask him, I can only let him. So I roll over onto my back and offer myself to him. My eyes are closed and I wait.

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Spike

She thinks she can just lie there. Thinks I’m just going to service her, and go. I know what she’s doing. Wants to blame it all on me. Wants to tell herself that what happened before in my room could never happen in the real world. Buffy Summers in Spike’s world is a siren sex kitten capable of driving men mad with just a look, but here in her world of pink quilts and cuddly toys she’s just an innocent young girl with an extraordinary destiny.

Bollocks.

You’ve got quite a gift love, and I’m hooked, addicted. Never going to let you go. Don’t you now that yet?

“What do you want to remember first?” I ask her as I take off my jeans. I’m ready for anything she wants and I always will be.

“Do you want me to just fuck you? Hard and fast, remember that? Or do you want me to build you up nice and slow. Do you want to do it here, or shall I take you somewhere? Ever had sex in a public place, love? Outdoors? Do you know what it’s like to have someone inside you and be able to hear and see other people all around you. To know they might catch you at any moment and to still not care?

She opens her eyes and just stares at me. Then she crooks her finger and wordlessly calls me to her. It’s all the invitation I need, but where do I start? How do you thaw a block of ice?

You make it hot.

She props herself up, bending her elbows and watching me with half closed eyes as I kneel at the side of the bed. I hook my hands around her calves and pull her forward so she’s still lying, but her legs are dangling. She wears pretty panties, this girl does. I take a while to appreciate them as I pull them down her legs. She’d pretending not to help me, still thinks she’s not part of this, but her hips shift slightly in all the right places and her panties join my clothes on the floor. I kiss her on each knee, and she sits up, because she wasn’t expecting that. Thought I was going straight for the kill.

Believe it or not, I do have patience love. I could spend the next hour just kissing your knees and make you come at the end of it.

“You just lie there,” I tell her,” and think about how good this feels, and how much better it’s going to feel when my mouth is on your sweet pussy. We didn’t get this far before, did we?” I tell her between kisses. “I know what you taste like because you came on me, but I didn’t put my mouth on you, did I?”

She shakes her head.

“Do you want me to do it now?” I ask as I innocently kiss my way down her calf. “Do you want me to curl my tongue inside you? Clamp my mouth on your sexy little clitoris and suck as hard as I can? What’s wrong love, never heard it called that before? Been reading too many trashy novels?”

I stop momentarily and lean over the bed, put my face close to her ear. “Clitoris,” I say letting my tongue trail inside. Isn’t it a lovely word? Doesn’t it sound sexier than plain, old clit?”

She looks at me, startled.

I shrug. “Used to be a poet, love. Like playing with words. Just like that one.”

Ask me nicely Buffy, I won’t disappoint you.

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Buffy

Some men just have a talent, I guess. Trouble is, once you find it out, everything else is just fumbling in the dark. Riley knew what to do, did it in all the right places, in the right order. But it never felt like this. Yeah I know Spike’s had a lot of practice, he’s perfected it down to an art. But he tells me it’s never been like this before, even for him.

When he kisses me it’s like I’m home, when his mouth leaves my skin, it’s like I’m lost. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say the words he wants me to. To ask him to do that thing to me that we, for some strange reason, just didn’t get around to before. But I want him to make me tell him, I can’t just say it, not here.

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Spike

Okay slayer, I can do that. She’s not going to say it without a little encouragement. I understand. Where we got to before, that was then. Special circumstances. And now she’s done it, knows what she’s capable of, she’s scared. Scared of what she’s unleashed.

I slide my hands up the insides of her thighs and just look at her. And she’s looking at me looking at her.

“It’s where I belong, love, where I want to be. You only have to say the word.”

“What word is that Spike? She asks me.

And I can see she’s struggling to keep still, struggling not to react to my fingers, so close. My hands are at the top of her thighs now, one on each side, fingers splayed over her pelvis, framing that lovely place in between. Concentrating everything down to there. I twitch them ever so slightly and her breath catches. She’s nodding her head now, but she still hasn’t said the words.

“Want to hear them love, so that afterwards you can remember that you asked me to do this. So that no matter how much you blame me for it, and I don’t care if you do, you will remember that you wanted it as much as I wanted to do it.

She lifts her face to the ceiling, closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, but it’s a battle she’s not going to win. A very small “please” is all I need. Because God knows, I’m not sure I can hold out any longer either. Can smell her wanting me, and it’s driving me insane.

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Buffy

But in a world of insanity this is all that makes sense.

“Touch me, Spike. Put your mouth on me. Take me back to where we were in your apartment. Take me anywhere but here.” I say it.

“You got it love.” He says it almost gleefully. One minute he’s a poet, the next he’s just a man, in so far as a vampire can be a man. And there’s the strange thing. Spike’s more a man than most of them that I’ve known.

His tongue’s cool, but I already knew that it would be. I wasn’t prepared for the delicacy though. For the sheer poetry in the way he moves it. I can feel his hair tickling the insides of my thighs as his head bobs up and down. His fingers tighten their grip sliding, down my legs until he’s pushing my knees up, opening me, pushing in even deeper. Licking my nerve endings raw, sucking in all the right places. And he just goes on and on until it feels like forever. But every time I feel the tightening and the throbbing and the rush, he pulls back, just a little until the wave dies down. Until I’m clawing at his head and urging him back and telling him that if he stops I’m going to stake him because he’s an evil, soulless thing to torture me like this.

And he chuckles to himself, smirks and calls me an impatient bint, and tells me he hasn’t even started yet. So I hold his head so hard that he can’t lift it and then he shows me the mercy I’m begging for. And I’m already halfway to forgetting the sadness of my life because, when I come, he takes me to a place that’s outside the world we shared in his decadent apartment, or what we’re sharing now, in my girly bedroom. To a world filled only with sensation.

Cool, silky wetness. Slippery heat. Shady desire. Uncontrollable passion.

His name, echoing in a space where the only other sound is my own, delerious breath.

“Spike,” breathe. “Spike, breathe. Spike, breathe. Come.


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Spike

Never seen anyone shatter so much when they come. She’s all in pieces beneath my hands. Waiting for me to put her back together again. And I love the way she says my name when she’s like this. Makes me feel like I’m really here, in her room doing this to her. Otherwise I’d think it was all a dream.

Makes me think she loves me. And then I really am dreaming.

“Shh. I tell her, got to keep it quiet, remember?”

I crawl up beside her and tug at the tee shirt. “Take it off, love,” I ask her. “Want to see you naked again. Want to feel you naked against me. It’ll be another first love. Take it off.”

“You do it,” she tells me lifting her arms.

I wanted her to, but I’m just as happy to oblige, can’t afford to be fussy here. It’s dreamtime all over again. I pull it off and throw it down and I look at her. Only really caught a glimpse before, was in too much of a state to pay attention to what was happening. But now, I’ve got what? I look at the clock on her bedside table. Forty five minutes left? To look.

It’d be just like her to call time on the dot. I said an hour, and that’s all she’ll give me. Gotta keep moving. But all she seems to want to do is just lie there in the aftermath. Floating back down to earth, all loose and relaxed and just being there with me. Her skin slides against mine, slippery with sweat as I wrap myself around her, pathetically grateful now that she’s letting me do this with her.

I’m big and I’m bad, that’s the image I like to put about. I come swaggering in here full of macho talk about how I’m going to have her begging me for it, but it always ends up the same. I’m always so bloody overawed by all this. Just to hold her and have her still. Just to be allowed to listen to her breathe, to feel the steady beat of her heart.

To be able to tell myself that nothing in the world exists but this. I turn her so she’s facing me. “Want to see you, love,” I tell her. And when I use the word love, I don’t say it idly. Not to her. Never to her. She turns and a sleepy smile’s forming on her face.

“I guess it’s your turn now,” she tells me.

But I quieten her with a finger on her lips. “Your night tonight, love. I can wait, I’ll be back.”

She nods her head and drops her face to my chest. Muffled words tell me that all she needs is a little peace. Someone to tell her everything’s going to be okay. And can I do that for her?

I hook my leg over her thigh to bring her closer to me, wrap my arm around her back so that her breasts are pressed against me, and I rest my face in her hair.

“Would you like to stay like this?” I ask her. “Anything you want,” I say.

She nods her head against me and I hear only one word.

“Forever.”

“Then we’ll stay here love, if not forever, then for as long as time allows.”

It goes very quiet. All I can hear is her breathing and the clock ticking away the minutes, one by one. Soon I’ll have to go, but the longer I hold her, the more she becomes part of me. It’s like she’s melting into my skin, seeping into my pores, and I’ll never be able to wash her off. I’ll never want to.

“My poor, sad, little Buffy.” I murmur into the mad tangle of her hair. “What can I do to help? How can I make the pain go away? I’ll always be here for you, whether you want me or not.”

And it’s true. Even if she kicked me out right now, I’d spend the rest of my life behind those trees in her garden. Lurking in her shadow. Never so far away that I couldn’t feel her. Following at a safe distance.

Hey, I could be the first vampire to die of love.

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Buffy

“Just hold me Spike, I just want to be still, here with you. Just need some peace.”

“Anything you want love,” he says. “Just want what you want. It’s enough.”

And for a while, it is all I want. Someone as strong as me to keep me here, where I need to be, because all I really want to do is run away. I don’t want to face what’s to come. But I know I’ll have to.

Patient Spike. Yet another side of him. Content to lie with me even though he’s more than ready to do what he came for. His cock is big and hard against me. And it talks its own special language. Spike may be content to lie still, but it doesn’t want to.

Is this the language of love, or just lust? His hips twitch, just a fraction and I become liquid. His leg hooks over my thigh and the bottom falls out of my stomach. His arm snakes around my back and I’m flush against him. And his face is in my hair and my scalp tingles and crawls as he purrs against me. Trying to lull me to sleep?

Not a chance in hell.

My body wants to dance. It can’t resist this leisurely invitation that he’s giving out without even knowing it. Or does he know exactly what he’s doing?

I only have to shift a fraction and the head of his cock is inside me. He raises questioning eyes.

“Yes?” he whispers.

“Oh yes,” I whisper back.

So he slides home where he belongs and we lie there, staring into each other’s eyes and doing no more than simply being as close as a two beings can get.

I fall asleep before it’s time for him to go and when I wake up he’s gone. I’m in my bed, dressed as I was before he appeared, and the world is back. I’m left wondering if it was all a dream, but then I move and I feel him seeping out of me. He’s put me back together again, even combed my hair. But so like him to leave that there.

I don’t remember him coming. Did it happen when I was asleep? Or did he come so quietly that I didn’t notice?

There’s an envelope on my pillow, with my name on it. I open it and read…..


Thank you.

I love my sweet Buffy who can make me come without even noticing. But I love my naughty Buffy too.

Ever had sex in a public place love? Outdoors? Do you know what it’s like to have someone inside you and be able to hear and see other people all around you. To know they might catch you at any moment and to still not care?

Meet me on the corner or East and 2nd street tomorrow midnight.

Oh, and be sure to look properly in the envelope. It’s my favourite.

I’ll be waiting,

Spike.



It’s a photograph. Of me. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders forward, legs open, hands on my thighs. Wearing his shirt. And I’m smiling. I don’t remember smiling when he took this. I don’t remember being this happy.

They say the camera doesn’t lie……


Tbc…

Chapter3

Buffy

No matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t go, here I am, standing in front of the mirror, clothes all over the bed wondering what you wear on a date with a vampire.

What would Spike like? Do I dress to please him, or do I dress to please myself and show him who’s still in charge of all this?

Truth is, I’ve already been shopping. Bought some stuff then I came home and shoved it in the back of the closet. But now, it’s here on the bed and I can’t resist. Just for tonight I want to be something other than Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

My hair isn’t even the same colour. I’ve sprayed it mouse brown, because tonight I want to disappear into the crowd and have no one notice me except for Spike. I have this crazy plan, you see and I don’t know if he’s going to go for it, but it’s always been a fantasy of mine. So here goes. Let’s start with the basics.

Underwear. Silky, satiny, lacy, of course. Sheer, see-through, hardly there. Black or red? Couldn’t decide so I tossed a coin and red it was. The brightest scarlet. Push up bra, front opener. A thong so brief I don’t know why I’m bothering to wear it.

Garter belt. Too trashy? Good, on it goes along with the black stockings. Yeah, now I’m looking the part. Almost starting to feel the part.

Nice little blouse, demure almost, all buttoned up but you can see right through it, cost me a lot, that bra. Gotta show it off. And a lycra skirt that I have to lie down get into and that barely covers the stocking tops. And that’s good too. A pair of red stilettos to finish off and I can’t believe I’ve just blown my savings to dress sexy for Spike.

But here’s your surprise, Spike. Got to make you work for this. You’re not having it all your way, and as I said, it’s fantasy time all round.

I twist my hair into a knot and secure it at the back of my head. Then I put on a pair of spectacles. Cost me a bomb all this, but it’s going to be so worth it to see his face. I just love it when my snarky boy is lost for words. It’s a weird effect, part librarian, part tramp. Need to lose the shoes or they’ll spoil the surprise. They go in my bag and instead I slip on a pair of trainers. It’s all finished off with an old brown coat that I’ve had for years and never really found a reason to wear, until now.

I’m not wearing make-up. Yet. It’s with my shoes, in my bag for later.

And my responsibilities as a daughter, sister and vampire slayer? The news from the hospital was better today, mom’s operation went well. It’s just a wait and see now, and there’s nothing I can do. Dawn is sleeping over with a friend, and the vampire population of Sunnydale will still be there tomorrow and the next day and the next. Tonight is their lucky night and my night off. And if that sounds cynical, and as if I’m not doing my job, then I can’t help it. If I tried to save everyone who needs saving, knowing that I couldn’t possibly, then I’d go mad. Sometimes I feel as if my life sucks me dry, always taking and never replacing. Tonight I’m going to put something back. It’s strange, but doing this makes me feel strong. Tomorrow, back to the killing. Tonight I’m going out to play.

I pick up my bag and take one last look in the mirror.

Perfect. This is exactly how you dress when you’re going out to have sex in a public place, with a vampire.

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Spike

It’d be just like her not to show. She’s always going to keep me dangling on a leash, waiting around just in case. I’ve been here half an hour already. Where the bloody hell is she?

Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the sex in public thing? Maybe I misread the signals? Maybe this isn’t what she needs when her mum’s lying ill in the hospital?

Someone’s coming and I look up eagerly, but it’s not her. Wrong hair and definitely not dressed for a date with a vampire. Stupid bint. Doesn’t she know how dangerous it is out here after dark? Look at that body language, practically begging me to eat her for dinner. I can’t oblige love, but someone will. She’s standing on the corner all huddled up in a terrible coat. All prim and proper. I look closer. Something familiar but I can’t place it. She’s looking at her watch, waiting for someone and I look again, screw up my eyes and it’s her. Buffy.

Hell, I did misread it. Look at her. But then I look again. Kind of cute really. Always loved the vulnerable look. Sweet little victim look. Standing there all nervous while I cruise by in my big black Cadillac and offer her candy.

“Buffy?” I say as I wind down the window.

“Spike?”

I get out and open the door for her. She gives me a very small smile and slides into the car.

“Didn’t know you wore glasses love, and what’s with the hair?” I say starting the engine.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she replies arranging her awful coat around her, and clipping herself into the seatbelt. Seems funny that. Going on a date with a vampire, to a sex club and still she buckles up.

Driving in a car’s going to be the safest thing you’ll be doing tonight, love. Or at least it was going to be. Not sure now. Thrown me for a loop this has.

“Er, you do know where we’re going tonight, don’t you? You did read the note?”

“Yes,” she replies, peering at me over the top of her glasses. “You said we were going out to have sex in public. So, what are you waiting for?”

“You got the message?”

“Yes, I got the message.”

“We’ll go then shall we?”

“Anytime you’re ready.”

So I drive and she crosses her legs and leans back and I just happen to notice that they’re clad in something black and sheer and her hand is running absently over her knee where the coat is open. She sees me looking and closes the coat, pulling it down to cover herself, and that’s when I notice that her nails are painted a bright shiny red. She inspects them, all innocent – like, then leaves them to rest on her lap, right over the place that I was kissing only yesterday.

And if I had a heartbeat it would be starting that slow steady thumping just about now. Remember it from my human days. Glimpse of stocking, lace petticoat, whiff of perfume or even better, sweaty armpits and whoosh, the heart would start up, the fingers would be trembling, the poetry forming in my brain. Sad git, wasn’t I? It’s almost as if she knows what gets my motor revving.

I see the game now. She wants to be seduced, even after all we’ve done, and yeah I can do that. I’m an expert at that.

“So,” I ask her, joining in, “What’s your name, love.”

“Joan,” she says without hesitation, and I almost laugh out loud. But luckily, I don’t. Can’t spoil this, it’s bloody exciting.

“What’s yours?” She says in an innocent, lisping voice.

“Randy,” I reply. Cos I am, but I don’t know if she gets the joke.

“I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” she says wrapping her arms around herself and huddling back into the seat. “I don’t usually get into cars with strange men.”

“You want to watch it, girl,” I tell her sternly. “Can’t be too careful these days, don’t know who you’re going to meet.”

“But you’ll take care of me, Randy. Won’t you? You look kind of nice.”

“Appearances can be deceptive, love. You shouldn’t trust them.”

“But I can trust you?” she says, her eyes huge. And she’s almost cowering now. That gets me the hottest of all. Brings back memories I’ve had to crush since the chip. My demons screaming to be let loose, but I squash him down. Enjoying this tease far too much.

“You look like a good girl, Joan,” I tell her. “What are you doing out on a night like this? Don’t you know there are things out here just waiting to swallow you whole?”

“Really?” She looks nervously around her. “What kind of things?”

“Ever heard of vampires, love? Werewolves, demons?”

“Not real,” she says looking out of the window then back at me. “Stories made up to frighten children.”

“And sweet young things like you?”

“I’m not scared,” she says lifting her chin.

“Then you should be, look, I’ll take you home. Tuck you up in your nice little bed where you’ll be safe. Do you want me to do that?”

“I should,” she says letting the coat fall open once more. Her hands rest lightly on her knees then she draws them slowly up her thighs, pushing her legs open as she does it. Then the coat’s closed again and she’s looking at me.

“Vampires, did you say?”

“And werewolves and demons. But you trust me, don’t you?”

“I guess.”

“Do you want to come for a drink with me, then?” I say.

She huddles back into the coat. “Oh no, I should get home.”

“Someone’s waiting for you? Boyfriend, perhaps?”

She looks sad. “No,” she says. “No one waiting for me. I’m all alone.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” I tell her. “Come on, just one drink, promise I’ll take you straight home after that.”

She sighs and bites her lip. I’m having trouble not crashing the car. Not easy, driving and seducing at the same time. Okay for her. She’s only seducing.

“Okay,” she says at last. “But just one and then you’ll take me home? You’ll look after me, won’t you?”

“I sure will, miss” I say. “You can count on that.”

-------------------------------------------------------
Buffy

We’re going to get pulled over by the police if he doesn’t start driving straight. And I’m so ready for him that I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up before I jump him. Didn’t know librarian - school-marm could feel so sexy.

We drive for a long time without talking. Every now and then I give him my wide-eyed innocent look and he gives me his macho look. Playing the concerned protector suits him. And for once in a while I can let it all go and just let him take me to wherever.

He pulls up outside a dark building in the middle of nowhere. The door opens and there’s a shaft of light, the sound of pumping music and laughter, then a couple stagger out into the night. They stop for a heated kiss, his hands roam all over her. Her leg’s wrapped around his waist. They know we’re watching. Well, I’m watching. Spike, or Randy, as I should call him, is watching me, watching them.

“Does it excite you?” he asks me. “Watching them.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Makes me feel…”

“Feel what?” he says leaning over to me. His finger hooks under my chin and he turns my face to him. “You’ve very beautiful,” he says looking deep into my eyes. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“No,” I say.

“Then you should,” he says splaying out his fingers across my cheek to hold me in place.

I don’t know why this is so exciting. Why, when I’ve done virtually everything I can with this man, him doing something so plain and simple as touching my face and telling me I’m beautiful gets to me like nothing else. It’s as if we missed this stage out somewhere along the line and now we need to go back and fill in the gaps. Good old fashioned courting. Starting at the beginning, getting to first base. Looking kissing touching. Asking nicely. Guess we just kind of jumped straight in the deep end before.

“May I kiss you, Joan,” he asks.

“We’ve only just met,” I say.

“Just a small one,” he says, his hand tightening on my cheek, pulling me towards him.

I put up a very token resistance, but even as I do my lips are puckering for the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had. Just his mouth on mine, nothing demanding. Just enough to tell me that I’ll definitely be wanting more. He pulls away, and I’m left hovering in mid air, wondering where he’s gone. I sit up and primly adjust my coat, flash him a confused look. Almost a reproachful look. He cocks his head.

“Did you like that?” he asks.

I place two fingers on my lips and can still feel them tingling. “Yes,” I say quietly. “Would you like to do it again?”

“Hell yes,” he says. Then he grabs me and drags me across the seat towards him. “God, woman, you make me feel like a sixteen year old again,” he says, passionately this time, and his mouth takes mine again in a kiss that couldn’t be more different from the last one.

This time he leaves me dizzy and gasping for air. He leaves me groping for him in the darkness as he pulls away and slams his hands down on the steering wheel.

“I want to touch you,” he says. His eyes are dark now, his gaze piercing me with its intensity and I shiver. The way he says it. It’s a command I can’t ignore.

“Where,” I ask him.

“All over,” he says his voice low. “Everywhere. Will you let me do that?”

“I shouldn’t,” I say.

“But you will?” he replies. His hand reaches across and settles on my knee. “I won’t hurt you,” he says. “I’d never do that.”

“I know,” I say struggling now to keep my hands still. To stop myself from grabbing his and pushing it between my legs where I want him to be. But I’m Joan tonight. Prim, proper little Joan who has a wild side she doesn’t even know about, but which, I suspect, she’s going to find out pretty soon.

His hand squeezes my knee very lightly and then works its way into the folds of the coat. His fingers curl around my thigh and slowly, agonizingly it works its way upwards. When he gets to the garter belt he stops and looks at me, his eyes wide, and even amidst this sensual haze that he seems to have trapped me in, I find myself having to check the laughter that wants to bubble out. His face is a picture. Looks as if he’s just found buried treasure. He looks surprised and pleased at the same time.

I let out a small moan as his hand reaches the front of my panties, palm flat, fingers spread and his gaze catches mine.

Then his fingers close as he bunches up the material, and pulls it away from me. A feather- light touch of fingertips across my already over-sensitised skin has me jumping out of my seat again.

He makes a deep, growling sound in the back of his throat.

“You really should be more careful who you accept lifts from, little girl,” he says leaning very close again.

By now my nerves are on fire for him. Screaming for him to touch me, so I shift my hips upward so his fingers are doing what they’re supposed to be doing, but still he doesn’t move them. I slide myself back and forth, trying to get the friction I need, rapidly forgetting that I’m supposed to be Joan.

“You like that, don’t you?” he says letting his finger twitch just a little.

I nod, not really listening to what he’s saying because all I can feel is his hand moving on me now, filling me with a sweet ache.

“Well, well,” he says with a chuckle. Seems like there’s more to this package than meets the eye, my sweet little Joan. He hooks his fingers over the waistband of the panties and starts to slide them down.

“Don’t think you’ll be needing these tonight, love,” he says. “Take them off for me, will you?”

tbc…

Chapter 4

Spike

Her eyes are wide as saucers as she takes in the half dressed twosomes and threesomes flashing in front of us like a series of erotic stills under the strobe lights.

And she’s already caught someone’s attention. Guy sidles up to her, runs his hand up her arm. She jumps and presses herself closer to me. I like this. Little Joan needs a protector tonight. And that’s my job.

“Bugger off,” I tell him. “Not sharing.”

He doesn’t take the hint. Goes for the coat.

I pull her in, one arm clamped around her waist, steering her out of his way. “That’s mine, mate,” I tell him. Piss off.” I give him a flash of my other face just in case he hasn’t got the message.

He leaves.

She looks up at me, still stuck to my side. “You’re very strong,” she says, running her fingers over my bicep. “Do you work out?”

“Kind of,” I tell her. Then her hand’s on my stomach, trailing lightly over my tee-shirt.

“I can feel it,” she says and suddenly she’s not talking about abs any more as her fingers drop to the bulge in my pants.

“I cover her hand with mine and keep it there, feel her fingers flex and grip me, almost making me come right there and then. And the show hasn’t even started yet.

“Come on,” I growl, let’s go sit down.

Her hand slips into mine as we wind our way through the crowds. She’s attracting a lot of attention the way she’s dressed, because we all know what comes in plain, brown wrappers, don’t we? I’ve had a little glimpse, enough to let me know we’re in for one hell of an evening if everything goes to plan. Just got to get sweet little Joan to lose some of her inhibitions. Gonna be fun.

We get a booth on one side of the dance floor, plush velvet bench seats on both sides, table in the middle. I slide along the seat and with a jerk of her wrist I pull her down onto my knee. She lands in a breathless heap, steadying herself with a hand on my shoulder, her bag drops to the floor. I wink and she gives me a quick smile in return, telling me the game’s still on.

First thing I see to is the hair. Damned strange seeing her with hair this colour, but if it helps her to be another person just for tonight, then who am I to complain? Out come the pins one by one as it cascades onto her shoulders, all wild and unruly. She closes her eyes as I thread my hand into it and finger-comb it out for her. Looks so bloody sexy with it like that. Like she’s just got out of bed. And those ridiculous glasses just add to the effect. She’s hitting me from all sides tonight, and that’s what I like about her. I never know what she’s going to do next. Right now she’s moving, sliding her butt back and forth over my painfully hard cock and suddenly I can’t wait any longer.

“I want you,” I tell her letting my hands slide down over the front of the coat, over her breasts. The coat’s still buttoned so I have to guess where her nipples are, but I think I’ve found them. Why else is she moving in time to my thumbs as I graze them, arching herself against me, tipping back her head, and closing her eyes?

I let one hand slide back up, my fingers circling her neck and tip her head back down so her face is looking into mine. “Did you hear what I said?” I ask her. “I want you right now.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says eyelashes batting. “You have me Randy, I’m right here.”

I pull her even closer. Close enough so that when I talk my lips and tongue wet her ear. “I want to fuck you, here and now. Would you like to do that, Joan?”

Her eyes dart around the room and her cheeks flush in anticipation. I can see that even in the dim light. And I can smell her, how much she wants me. Wants this.

“Here?” she says. “But people might see.”

It’s the weakest of protests, her voice is barely there she’s so worked up about it all. Gotta be careful here. This is the bit where she might just get up and run, lose her nerve. She knows why we’ve come here tonight, but I can see that she wants it and doesn’t want it, both at the same time. And funnily enough I can sense that it’s Joan who wants it more than Buffy so that’s where I go.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you Joan?” I say. And she nods vigorously. I’m still holding her in place and I can see that she isn’t wearing any make-up. Wonder if she’s got any in the bag? “But,” I tell her, “wouldn’t you like to know what it feels like to be bad, just for tonight?”

“I think you’re the devil,” she says.

“Maybe I am,” I reply.

A waiter approaches. Sexy food? Yeah, I’ll go for that. And champagne. Nothing like those little bubbles for getting a girl tipsy. Can just see my sexy little Joan all giggly and legless. God I’m so hard for her I’m gonna burst.

“Tell me what to do,” she says blushing prettily. Is that even a word? It suits her though. Pretty, little innocent thing, despite the glasses. My good little girl’s pretty. But my bad girl’s going to be bloody beautiful.

----------------------------------------------------------

Buffy

Have I mentioned that I can’t believe I’m doing this? I can fool myself that it’s Joan and not the slayer, but Buffy’s still there inside. The booth’s kind of private, tucked away in a dark corner, but anyone could see, if they cared to look. And we’re not the only ones. Heck, there are people doing it right there on the dance floor. And I can’t tear my eyes away.

He makes that low growling sound that makes my toes tingle.

“Gonna dance with you later, would you like that?” he says.

“Tell me what to do,” I reply. “Show me how to be bad.”

“My pleasure love,” he says hitching my leg over his lap so I’m sitting astride him. He’s wearing his long, leather coat and it kind of covers us both as he takes my hand and puts it on the front of his jeans.

“You have to tell me exactly what to do,” I say as I just let it lie there flat over the large bulge.

“Open my pants, love.”

I do it slowly, my tongue between my teeth, giving it all my concentration, but looking at him every now and then to see if it meets with his approval. Yeah, he looks happy. Very happy. I twist the buttons open one by one and then I stop.

“Take me out love, and tell me you like what you see.”

I curl my fingers around the silky smoothness and release him, sliding my fingers to the top as I do so, brushing my thumb over the tip. “Like this? I ask.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” he says in his bedroom voice, all the while moving his hips and watching every move my hand makes. “Just do that for a bit.”

“It’s magnificent, Randy,” I say in a suitably awestruck voice. “And that’s not a word I use every day.”

He looks pleased as only a man can when he’s paid the ultimate compliment.

I keep moving my hand and he gets harder and harder, if that’s possible. His hands are clasped around my thighs, inching their way upwards, taking my skirt with it until it’s bunched around my waist. I must have looked a little anxious then because he stops momentarily to pull the coat around me and I’m grateful for that. Doing this with him can almost make me forget we’re in a public place. But not quite.

I sigh softly as his fingers slide back up my legs and he asks me if I’m ready for him.

“I don’t know,” I say, innocently, “am I?”

“Better check then,” he says and gives me that snarky grin of his, fingers delving inside me, making my hips jerk as his thumb brushes my clitoris. They come away all shiny and glistening and he sniffs them appreciatively.

“Oh, you’re ready enough,” he says, and then he takes my hand off his cock and puts it where his have just been.

“Can’t you feel it?” he says. “How ready you are for me? You’re so wet I’m gonna slide right in, nice and deep. Do you want me to do it now, Joan?”

I’m blushing as I nod my consent, I can feel it. My face is hot, god, everything’s hot. I reach up to take off the spectacles because I reckon they’ve done their job for the evening, but he stops me.

“No,” he says putting his hand on mine. “Leave them on. I like them.”

He’s got his hands on my butt now, pulling me in so the tip of his cock is right where it needs to be and my legs are spread wide, a knee on either side of his thighs.

“Put your arms around my neck and hold on,” he whispers as he slowly pushes home, filling me to the hilt, while his hands slide up my back and wrap round me so we’re flush against each other. He locks gazes with me and keeps me there, making me see only him as he starts to move. And there is only him when he does this. He’s all I can see, and all I can feel, all I can smell. Everything else just fades away.

“Can keep going all night love,” he tells me, never breaking his rhythm. “Until you’re begging me to let you come. Just tell me when you want to come, It’s your call.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I tell him holding him even tighter and burying my face into his leather-clad shoulder.

“No you shouldn’t, love. Good girl like you. Do you want me to stop?” he asks, holding me still.

“No,” I manage to gasp out ‘cos my breathing’s going a bit haywire now. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes narrow and his face take on that fierce, possessive look that is so Spike.

“Kiss me,” he orders and then he takes off the spectacles himself without breaking eye contact and throws them down onto the bench.

So I do. I think chaste is the word that gets used for this kind of kiss. The slightest puckering of the lips, the tiniest bit of pressure and ease off before they’ve even registered you’re there.

“Again,” he says.

This time it’s a little harder and I let my tongue sweep over the line where his lips meet. Then I pull back.

“Keep going,” he says yanking me nearer. His hand’s gone back down to my butt now, grabbing the flesh and pushing me as close as he can get me and still be able to move. I know what he wants me to do. Use my slayer muscles. And I almost take pity on him, until I remember that I’m Joan and she doesn’t have any.

I make the next kiss a little deeper angling my head to fit my mouth better to his and nudging his lips apart with my tongue. He sucks hard on it, tugging it into his mouth and every time he pulls on it it sends electric sparks right through me. And I know he can feel them. I can’t help clenching those slayer muscles when he does that.

“Would you like to come now?” he asks still keeping up that slow easy rhythm.

“Want to come, yes,” My eyes are closed now as I concentrate everything down there, where we’re joined.

“Open your eyes and look at me then,” he says. “I want you to see this.”

I open them, and yeah, I love that look he gets on his face when he’s about to come. I love the way his hair looks when it’s all mussed up where my hands have been. I love the intense set of his eyes when he gives me all of his attention. But that’s not what he wants me to see.

“You really shouldn’t get in cars with strange men, Joan,” he tells me, his face very serious now.

“I know,” I say trying to wriggle my hips on him, because he’s stopped moving now.

“People aren’t always what they seem, Joan,” he says, still looking stern

“No kidding,” I reply.

“Are you as innocent as you seem, little Joan?” he says letting his fingers stray to my still buttoned – up coat.

“Can I really trust you? I ask him in return.

“Do you want me to make you come now?” he says.

“Please…”

It happens so fast that I don’t have time to be shocked. I see his face change, and I nod my head to give consent because I know what he’s going to do. I start to come even before his teeth latch on to the side of my neck. Feel it washing over me, the throbbing, the tingles, the heat. And he just holds me really hard against him so that neither of us can move. And when he does that it’s so amazingly intense that it makes me want to scream. He pulls out his fangs and groans out his own release and from somewhere far away I can hear clapping. It gets louder and louder as I come back down to earth until I look round and see them. Our appreciative audience. That I didn’t realise were there. And Spike’s grinning all over his face now in that smug, self satisfied way of his, and I don’t know whether to die of embarrassment, or take a bow.

I bury my head into his shoulder, until he pats me on the back and whispers that they’re gone, and when I look up again it’s just the two of us, still joined at the hip.
I can feel his come trickling out of me and Spike’s got a smear of my blood on his bottom lip and that’s the moment the waiter chooses to arrive with the food.

He arranges it on the table and opens the champagne all without batting an eyelid. Even pours a shot into a glass and gives it to Spike to taste. Then he says “enjoy your meal” and walks calmly away. Completely oblivious to the fact that there are two people having sex right under his nose.

By this time I’m almost hysterical with laughter. Spike joins in with a sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard from him before. Pure, unadulterated joy.

It’s one of those moments I know I’ll always keep close to me. The two of us sitting here holding each other, shaking with laughter, letting go in a way we’ve never done before. It’s almost more intimate an act than the sex. And he’s made me forget everything, even the fact that I’m wearing a surprise for him under the coat.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I tell him wriggling from his lap and picking up my bag.

He nods, still smiling. Tucks himself away and buttons up his pants. And then very suddenly I’m back on his lap and he’s kissing the life out of me.

“I love you, Buffy,” he says, very quietly before pushing me back onto my feet and giving me a pat on the butt to help me on my way.

“I love you too, Spike.” I say it as I’m walking away. I’m at least halfway across the dance floor when the words leave my lips. But when I look back at him he’s staring at me intently and I know he’s heard me. “It’s true,” I say, then I open the bathroom door, walk in and start on the buttons of my coat.

Almost seems like an anti-climax after what we’ve just done, but I have one more surprise for him this evening. I drop my coat on the floor and pull my make-up and shoes out of the bag.

Time to be Buffy again, I think.

tbc...

I haven't forgotten this story, just been very busy. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 5

Buffy

He’s kind of smouldering as he watches me make my way back to the table. How does a cold, dead vampire manage to look so hot? His eyes are practically glowing and he never takes them off me once. I take it nice and slow, doing the sexy walk, trying not to fall off these ridiculously high heels. Only for you, Spike, I think to myself. Only for you.

“This is what you’ve been hiding all night?” he says as I slide myself into the seat next to him.

“You like?” I say, crossing my legs.

“Yeah, I like.” He takes a good look, smirking all over his face. “Did you buy it specially for me?”

He folds his arms behind his head, lies back, legs open and sprawled out in front of him. Trying to look casual as he asks the question, but I know what he wants to hear, and how much he needs to hear it. And heck, it’s the truth.

“Yeah, bought it specially for you.”

“Because I’m worth it?” There’s that sexy tongue again. Drives me crazy when he punctuates his sentences with that slow slide over his bottom lip. Very distracting, so I tear my eyes away.

“Don’t push it Mr.” I tell him, backing up my words by poking his knee with my shoe.

“You look gorgeous, love.”

I know a thing or two about lightning reactions, but this guy can move. In the blink of an eye he’s pulled me over, twisted me round and I’m sitting on his lap, but with my back to him. He opens his legs so that I slide down onto the seat between them, one hand on my belly, fingers splayed out and the other pushing my hair away from the back of my neck.

Then he shows me just what that tongue is capable of. I’m a wriggling, giggling mess by the time he’s finished and yeah, it’s heating up all over again. There’s always that point where it goes deadly serious. Where the laughter stops and we just look at each other.

God, the things you can say with a look. I could get off just on that. Get off on the anticipation alone. And knowing what he’s capable of makes it even worse. I’ve got pictures in my head now to back up the heated promises in his gaze.

But there’s a slightly nervous edge to the playfulness and he suddenly tips my head back and stares so hard at me that I can’t tear myself away, even though I want to. I know what he wants to talk about, but he knows that he’s had as much as he’s going to get of that tonight.

“Heard what you said,” he tells me quietly.

“Me too,” I say in return.

He laughs and closes a hand over a breast, leans back in to nuzzle at my neck and bites his way lightly to my shoulder.

“Guess I should quit while I’m ahead then,” he says.

“Spike,” I begin, trying to twist around, but he won’t let me. Slides his hand up until it’s covering my mouth.

“Don’t let’s spoil it,” he says.

And I don’t miss the resignation in his tone. The forced jollity as he asks me what I’d like to eat, ‘cos after all that hard work just now I’ve gotta be hungry, right?

“Dead right,” I tell him reaching for the champagne bottle. I up-end it and take a deep swig then dissolve into a choking heap on Spike’s lap as the bubbles catch in my throat and nose. Cue a nice slow back rub from him as I get that under control and then I start to lose it again. I already feel sexy in this outfit, but his fingers on my bare skin as his hand slips under the hem of the blouse make me feel something I only get with him.

He makes me feel desire, for him. Only has to touch me and I want to drag him out to the car and do what we just did all over again. And he makes me feel desirable, because he wants me so much. Every look, every touch, every word sends the same clear message.

I’m listening Spike, but I can’t say that other thing again. Not yet. Not while you’re so close to me.

“It’s okay love,” he says almost as if I’d spoken it out loud. “It’s enough that you said it once. I can wait.”

I just nod and move myself back against him, my butt against his ever hard cock.

“So, you like the outfit?” I ask him as I keep moving.

“You’re a bloody fantasy, love.” He whispers it very close to my ear. “You sure you’re for real?”

“Oh, I’m real enough, Spike, can’t you feel it?”

He’s got his both hands between my legs now, doing the same to me with his fingers as I’m doing to him. And I’m not just talking about two bodies touching and rubbing together. Not just talking about friction and heat. He steals my will and I steal his, until we’re both slaves to each other. Slaves to this. Guess you could call it an addiction, because it’s getting to be something I can’t live without. Think I’ve proved that to myself. But was I right to call this love?

-----------------------------------------------

Spike

Yeah, I should quit while I’m ahead. Always a good policy and one I’ve never heeded much in my life. Heck, I’m still gobsmacked that she said it at all, even though I wasn’t really meant to hear it.

And why do I want her so much? Can’t just be the thrill of the chase though maybe it was to start with. Yeah, she’s beautiful and sexy and surprising. And yes, she seems to want me back, now. Took a bit of persuading, but it’s my lap she’s sitting on, my fingers inside her. She’s still here, making all the right noises, even though she doesn’t have to be. This girl doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to, so that’s got to say something, right? Will I ever know the answer?

“Make yourself bloody useful,” I tell her as I take off my coat. “Feed me some grapes, or something.”

She giggles and leans forward, grabs hold of a bunch and twists back so she’s holding them over my face, just out of reach. I have to stretch up for them and pick them off one by one with my teeth. She likes making me beg. Gonna have you begging by the end of the evening, love. You’ll see. Just thought of a much more fun way to eat grapes than this.

I grab her wrist and bring it down so I can pick off half a dozen grapes and then before she can stop me my fingers are inside her again, and so are the grapes as I push them into her one by one. She gives a surprised squeak and I can feel those slayer muscles clamping around my fingers.

“That’s right, love,” I tell her. “You just keep ‘em there. Gonna get real hungry later on.”

She’s so cute when she’s trying to look shocked. “Just imagine how that’s going to feel, when I get them out. Ask real nice and I’ll do that for you,” I tell her and I have to add 'wickedly' here, because right now I feel just like the big bad wolf with little red riding hood sitting on my lap.

“Shall we dance?” I ask her.

“I can’t,” she says looking down at herself, her eyes widening.

“Sure you can,” I say pushing her up in front of me. “Just put those slayer muscles to good use.” I wink and pull her onto the dance floor and into my arms, and my hands drop to her backside as I fit her against me. And we fit well, gotta say she was made for me, cheesy as that sounds. Everything about her seems to fit into, or against a part of me. Even when she hated me, it was perfectly mutual. Perfect adversaries and perfect lovers. What we were, and what we are.

And I love it when she lets me hold her like this, so I can feel her pressed against me, rest my face against her hair. Love the way she relaxes and lets me take over and set the pace. There’s nothing for her to do but just go with it. After a while she’s lovely and loose and I can indulge that little fantasy I have that she’s mine all mine. I’m getting a lot of envious looks from all the blokes around, and some of the women. Don’t think she’s noticed that, but I can’t help a smug smile at the way they’re lusting after her. Yeah, when she’s like this, she’s mine.

Well, a bloke can dream, can’t he?

Suddenly she starts to look a little uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong love?” I ask her, wondering if I’ve pushed this too far, whether she’s getting cold feet over all this.

“Think they’re falling out,” she whispers, urgently.

“What are, pet,” I say being deliberately evasive.

“The grapes,” she says pulling down her skirt. “Spike, you’ve got to do something.”

“Do what, love?” Boy can I do innocent when I want to.

“You know,” she says, and I can feel those muscles clenching from here. “What you said you were going to do.”

“And that was?” I take her hand and twirl her round, then pull her back in. She gives a small shriek and bats me on the arm.

“You know what I’m talking about.” She’s glaring and then she changes tack. Her finger’s on my forearm trailing lightly from wrist to elbow, her eyes are shaded and heavy lidded and her voice turns back into little Joan again. “Aren’t you the teensie-weensiest bit hungry? she asks.

I glance over to our table. “Yeah, could be. Shame to waste all that food. Want to go and eat then?”

“Thought you might like to,” she says catching the ends of my fingers with hers and tugging me from the dance floor with the lightest of touches.

“You want me to do it here?” I ask when we reach our table.

“Not really.” She looks around. “Think I’d rather just enjoy you in private.”

“Yeah, me too.” I grab the coats and stick the cork back into the champagne bottle. She’s gathering up food and wrapping it in napkins.

“Picnic,” she explains. Then adds. “You have paid for all this, haven’t you?”

“No,” I say. So she looks around again and then shoves the bulging napkins into her bag, along with the champagne.

“What are we waiting for?” she says holding out her hand.

And suddenly, I’m bloody ravenous.

-------------------------------------------------------

Buffy

It’s nice to get out of there. Glad I had the experience, but I’m not sure it’s something I want to do again. And Spike seems to know how I’m feeling. Seems to be able to fine-tune himself to me when we’re together. It’s a bit spooky really, but that’s vampires for you, I suppose. Or maybe it’s just vampires in love?

“Not regretting it, are you?” he asks me as we make our way to the car.

“No,” I tell him. “Guess I really didn’t want to share this.”

“I get that you don’t want to be seen with me,” he says it quietly and opens the car door like a proper gentleman, which he must have been at one time.

That’s part of it, I have to admit. The worry that someone might see us together, and doing that. But it’s not really why I wanted to leave.

“You know how it is for me, Spike,” I say when he’s sitting in the driver’s side. “But it wasn’t really that. It was more…” how do I put this? “More that I didn’t want to share that with anyone. It’s too private.”

“So you’re ashamed then?”

“Didn’t say that, Spike. What I meant was that I want it to be just me and you, and no one else. Don’t need anyone else when I’m with you.”

He leans over and gives me one of his searing kisses. Got those down to a fine art. His mouth is on mine, hard and swift, and then he’s starting the engine.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks as he leans one arm across the back of my seat and reverses with a screeching of tyres.

It’s midnight so we have a couple of hours, but that’s all. Got to get back to my real life some time. but not yet.

“Want to have a picnic,” I tell him. “Somewhere romantic?”

“You’ve got it,” he says roaring out of the parking lot. “Gonna have ourselves a bloody feast.”

I squeeze my legs together both in anticipation of what he’s going to feast on, and because the grapes really do feel as if they’re going to fall out and I don’t want them to do that. Want him to do that.

I flick on the radio and lean into the leather seat, tipping back my head. Weird to see Spike in a car like this.

“What happened to the De Soto?” I ask him.

“Still got her,” he says. “Didn’t think you’d want to be seen in her though.”

“And you’d be right,” I say with a laugh. “It’s strange, you know, seeing you like this. Flash car, money.”

“Guess you first met me at a bad time,” he says with a grin. “I’ve had money before, it’s never been a problem really.”

“Don’t want to go there,” I say holding up my hands. “Please tell me you got this by working twelve hour shifts on some assembly line.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, but you’re dating a vampire love.”

“Dating? Is that what we’re doing?”

He shrugs. “Call it what you like, but it’s not just fucking, is it?”

“No, Spike.” I can give him that. “It’s not just for the fucking.” Then I add wickedly. “But the fucking is nice.”

He puts his foot down and neither of us talk for the next fifteen minutes. I hope he’s not taking us too far as I don’t want to waste this time driving. Been thinking about what he promised, and what we did back at the club and with every minute that passes I just want him more and more. Then he pulls up by the side of the lake and we spend exactly thirty seconds appreciating the effort he’s put into the romantic part of my request.

“Got you a moon,” he says peering out of the windshield.

“It’s nice,” I reply.

“Beautiful reflections in the water,” he says.

“Stunning,” I reply.

“Will that do?” he says, looking at me.

“Thought you were never going to stop talking,” I say, hitching up my skirt and climbing into the extremely roomy back seat. I lie back. “Thought you said you were hungry?” I say holding out my arms.

“Bloody starving,” he says and then he climbs over his seat and attacks me with his mouth.

------------------------------------------------

Spike

“Stop bloody wriggling,” I tell her. I’m holding her thighs and I dip my tongue deep inside her, curling it around another grape. Making sure I touch every part I can reach before I suck it out of her. Every time I do it I can feel little orgasms rippling through her. My finger’s on her clitoris, helping her along and I’m building her up nice and slow. Making sure each one’s just a bit more intense than the last one.

“Get them all,” she says throwing back her head as another one washes over her.

“Will do, love,” I say with a chuckle. “And quit worrying, I’m an expert at this, you just lie back and enjoy.”

She tries to sit up, but I push her back down and put a bit more effort into the next one. Time to make her speechless, I think. Show her just what an expert I am. And I’m really evil when I do this. Know just how to draw it out until she’s begging for bleeding mercy. And anyone who knew her would be shocked to hear the things she comes out with when she’s like this.

That’s the last grape and while she’s still up there I’m opening my pants and filling her a different way. Straight in, right up to the hilt and she’s always so ready for me. Always wants everything I have.

Only takes a few strokes to get both of us off again and then she’s lying there with her arm flung across her eyes and I’m beside her, shifting her against me so we don’t roll off the seat.

“Jesus Christ, Spike,” she says as she fights for breath. “Give me some warning when you’re going to do that.”

I can’t help grinning. May not be the most appropriate thing to do, but it’s just a guy thing, I guess. Can’t help feeling proud that I can do that to her.

“Love the blouse,” I tell her, as I flick open the first button. “Very very nice,” I say, opening the next one. Then it’s the clasp on her very expensive looking bra.

“She gives a satisfied little moan as I cover her pretty little breasts with feather-light kisses, arches her neck as I scrape my teeth over the mark I made earlier. Slayer healing means that it’s already starting to close, but I only have to suck to draw blood again. She doesn’t stop me, and I only do it a couple of times. Still don’t know if she really enjoys it or not, but I can’t resist, and as long as she’s not stopping me, then I’ll keep doing it.

“That’s me satisfied,” I tell her as I lie back and pull her closer. And I really mean it. Right now I’m feeling content and relaxed because everything I want is right here. I’m learning, you see. She’s here in my arms and there’s nothing else. Not going to waste this time worrying about how I’ll feel when she’s not with me any more. It’s too precious.

“You must be hungry,” I say. “Didn’t you want to have a picnic?”

“Yeah,” she says in a sleepy voice. She’s snuggling into my shoulder, getting comfortable and I’d like nothing more than to spend the night here with her sleeping and me just holding her and feeling her near me, but we can’t. Gotta give her back sometime, and soon.

“Buffy,” I say with real regret. “Don’t fall asleep, love. Gotta go soon.”

She sighs and lies still for a few more moments before pushing herself up onto her elbows and looking at me.

It hits me suddenly. Just seeing her like this, gazing at me, her hair a mess, her breasts barely covered by that sinful shirt, remembering the words she said back at the club. I do love her, but I’ve never realised how much until now. One of those moments of staggering revelation that hits you in the gut. Sweetly poignant but sharp and cruel.

Look what you could have, a voice says. In another world, in another reality, you and her could do this all the time. There’d be nothing or no one to stop you.

It’s my punishment, I realise. One hundred and twenty years of being a bad - ass vampire and I always knew I’d be going to hell sometime. Just thought I’d have to die again first. Didn’t think it would be coming to me, here on earth. Or that it would sit so closely to this vision of heaven lying beside me.

“Are you crying?” she asks, her face turning serious.

“No.” I probably don’t sound very convincing as I turn my face away and she doesn’t push it. Waits quietly until I’m ready. And I’m not going to cry, because what good would that do? I’ve spent enough time feeling sorry for myself.

I sit up and reach for her bra, pull it back into place and do up the clasp. “Come on,” I say, “let’s have that picnic.”

She does up her buttons while I get out of the car and fetch a blanket from the trunk. I set it all up and then, with a flourish, invite her to join me. She shivers as she steps from the car so I reach for her coat, but she shakes her head and picks up my leather duster instead.

“Always loved this coat,” she says with a grin as she slips it on.

“Looks good on you, love,” I tell her and we both sit down beside the lake, under that stunning moon. She eats and I watch her. It makes her blush when I watch her so intently because she knows what’s on my mind.

How could I resist? Got the moonlight, got the girl and I know what I want to spend the next few hours doing. Thought I was satisfied. Thought I’d had enough of her. That feeling never lasts long. I just want her too much.

She sighs in grateful resignation when I lay her down. And I do it real slow. Cover every inch of her, touch every part of her. I call in every one of her reserves, break down every one of her barriers until there’s nothing left to come between us. I make her show me things she’d rather keep hidden, and she submits to it all and gives me everything but the one thing I’m desperate to hear.

Things this intense are hard to put into words. We pack up in silence and all the way home neither of us speaks. It’s a time for thinking, processing what’s happened. Making sense of where this has taken us, because every thing we do takes us to some new place. I drop her off at the corner where we met earlier, hand her her bag and then she just stands there awkwardly, neither of us knowing what to say.

If this had been a normal date, I could kiss her goodbye, tell her what a lovely evening I’d had and ask her when she’d like to do it again.

But what do I say to her? Thanks for the fuck? Loved the sexy little game? The clothes? It’s becoming less about that, and we both know it.

I shrug, she does too. She mutters a quiet, “thanks,” and I press my lips together and nod.

“I’ll go now,” she says looking lost and small.

I suddenly want to cry again so I wave her away, tell her to go back to her mom who needs her, and I wind up the window and start up the engine. I’m always left trying to work out if the few hours of bliss that she gives me are worth this. This horrible feeling that every time we say goodbye might be the last time I'll ever see her.

I pull away and when I check in the rear view mirror, she’s still there, unmoving, and watching me go.

---------------------------------------------------

Buffy

I don’t want to go back to my life. I just want to get in the car with him and I want him to drive and keep driving until we fall off the edge of the earth. That’s what I want to do.

Would it have hurt me if I’d told him? I said it was true, and I think I meant it. And if I meant it, then why can’t I tell him? Why am I so afraid of three little words? They’re not going to change anything, except that they will probably make him the happiest man alive and it might make me feel happy too. Is that what I’m scared of?
Too scared to be happy? Wow, that’s sad.

I stand on the sidewalk and I watch the car until it turns the corner and is out of sight. He drives away slowly, almost as if he’s still hoping that the impossible’s going to happen and that’s when I realise that I’m still wearing his coat. Can’t be seen with this, still not ready for that.

I throw off my shoes and take off after the car, and I swear that when I did, all I wanted to do was give back the coat. I round the corner and panic because it’s nowhere in sight and then I see it, stopped at the traffic lights, way ahead. It’s the only car on the road, but he can’t possibly see me because he’s so far away and I almost give up. I stop to catch my breath as the lights turn green and the car pulls away again.

And that’s when it hits me. How would I feel if this was the last time I ever saw him? What would I have to regret if he just drove away now and out of my life?

Only one thing.

I suck in a deep breath and take off again. Spike never stops at traffic lights, unless he has to, and there he is again. No other cars on the road, and him sitting there waiting for the lights to change. Or waiting for something.

Mom and Dawn need me, and I’m the chosen one and all that, but I need stuff too. Is this so selfish of me? To want to know love and to find out if I’m capable of giving it.

He must have seen me because the car doesn’t move even though the lights turn green. I slow down as I approach and the electric window glides down. He turns and the look of hope is only there for a split second. As I hand him his coat he tries to hide the disappointment.

“Nearly walked off with this,” I say as I bundle it through the window.

He lets it drop to the seat and the smile he manages doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I could have fetched it pet, didn’t have to run after me.” He puts his hand on the gearshift. “Be seeing you then?”

“No, wait,” I say opening the door. “I did. Have to run after you, that is. There’s something I need to tell you.”

He nods and I get into the car. “Left my bag on the street corner,” I say with a nervous laugh. “Can we go back for it?”

“No problem, love,” he says, and swings the car into a U turn.

“So, he says and he’s as worried as I’ve ever seen him look. “Apart from the coat, what’s so important that you have to chase my car, barefoot down the road then?”

He thinks I’m going to finish with him, finish this. I’ve never seen him look so scared. But I can put it right, with just a few words. And when I say them I mean them as much as I’ve ever meant anything in my life.

“You are,” I say, looking right at him. “You are, Spike.”

-----------------------------------------------------

I think I'm going to leave this story here. It seems to have come to a natural end and I hope, has answered any questions left open from The Interview.
Thank you everyone for reading. I will be finishing Can I Keep You? next, and then I'd like to write a hard hitting, sexy kidnap fic. Buffy and Spike, danger, lots of intense and conflicting emotions. Anyone up for that? Too many around all ready? With Angel coming to an end it's hard to know whether there's going to be much interest in Spuffy fanfic in the future. I'd love to hear what people think of that.

I'll be getting a website soon, if all goes according to plan so I'll have a home at last. thinking of calling it One Step Beyond.

bye for now, and again very many thanks for reading

candy