He saw her the moment he stepped into the bar. It was hard not to. She owned the dance floor. Hell, she owned the whole place. Every eye—male and female—was on her. Most that approached her were rebuffed; the lucky few received a smile and a dismissal.

He was hard just from looking at her.

Clearing his head, he made his way over to the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender called over the blare of the music.

“Whatever’s on tap,” Spike called back. He glanced back towards the blonde and changed his mind. “Make that a whiskey. On the rocks.” The bartender followed his glance and snorted.

“I’ll make it a double.”

***

Buffy rolled her eyes as the latest hopeful wannabee made a less that smooth pass at her, shooing him away before he could even get the cheesy line out of his mouth. Really, sometimes it was just pathetic.

“That one was kind of cute,” Willow offered solicitously. Buffy arched an incredulous eyebrow at her best friend.

“Honey, I think your straight-dar is off,” Tara giggled, taking in Buffy’s expression.

“Why are all the guys in Sunnydale weirdo creeps?” Buffy lamented.

“You could always go XX,” Willow suggested helpfully.

“You took the only good one,” Buffy sighed. It was slim pickin’s on all sides of the fence. Buffy was about to give up and go home to her sister when HE walked into the club. Buffy caught a flash of bright white out of the corner of her eye and saw the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She quickly turned away as his head moved, trying to figure out her best course of action.

She made small talk with Willow, all the while keeping her eye on the stunning blonde man who made her pulse race faster than anyone she’d ever met. Come to think of it, she hadn’t exactly met him…and she was damned and determined to change that.

“I need a refill, anyone else?” Buffy asked perkily, ignoring the confusion her complete non sequitur caused. “No one? Alright! Be right back!”

“What in the…” Willow wondered, staring at the retreating form of her best friend.

“I think Buffy may have found someone who met her standards,” Tara murmured against her girlfriend’s neck, her eyes picking out the platinum blonde man sitting at the bar. He had a distinct devil-may-care air about him that Buffy was sure to love, but it was his aura that spoke to Tara. He mirrored Buffy almost perfectly, thought there was something odd to it that she’d never seen before, something missing but...not. There was some element that was waiting to be added. But she knew, without a doubt, that this was someone to keep an eye on.

***

Spike had just ordered his second whiskey when he discovered that his golden goddess had moved. Her friends were still there, but she was no where to be seen. Spike scowled into his drink.

“That is not the face of someone having a good time,” a smirking voice said beside him. Spike turned, ready to give whoever it was the brush off, and almost choked when he saw her standing next to him, up close and smelling wonderful. She winked at him, before turning her attention to the bartender. “I’ll take a whiskey sour, bar boy!”

Spike tried to control himself. He felt like a high school nerd trying to talk to the most popular girl in school. His tongue felt heavy and thick, and he hadn’t even tried to talk to her.

“Here you are, Babe. One extra sour whiskey sour for my lamby-kinsky-poo,” the bartender said. Spike tried not to growl at the man’s casually playful tone and his woman. No. Not his woman. Not yet...

“Are you trying to tell me something, Lorneykins?” Spike would give anything for that playfully flirty tone to be directed at him. Spike glanced at the bartender, who adopted a look of altar boy innocence.

“MOI? Buffy Summers, I’m shocked at you, thinking I wouldn’t tell you that you’re a sour puss that needs to get laid yesterday to your face!” Spike almost choked again.

“Lorne!” Buffy yelled, though she couldn’t help the laughter that was bubbling up. “I’m actively looking for an acceptable prospect,” she informed him primly, once she’d gathered herself. What in the world was Lorne doing, calling her out in front of gorgeous yummy guy?! Lorne just rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the blonde stud he’d seen his friend eying from all the way across the room.

“I’ll give you a free drink if you kiss the hell out of le hotness to your right,” Lorne told him. Spike’s mouth dropped open. He turned to look at the ‘hotness,’ whose eyes were twinkling mischievously.

“Is kissing me worth a free drink?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. Maybe Lorne wouldn't have to die this night. Spike took a moment to close him mouth, arch and eye brow, and throw back the rest of his drink. That done, he swiveled around on his bar stool, grabbed the woman of his dreams, and kissed the hell out of her.

***

Buffy melted into the kiss, mentally thanking Lorne with every fiber of her being. Well, the fibers that weren’t currently on fire and totally fixated on the man kissing her with more skill and finesse than should be legal.

She moaned as his slender fingers found the gap between her pants and her shirt. And to think she’d been momentarily pissed at Lorne for his little comment.

They broke apart when the need to breath became overwhelming. Panting, they stood there, looking into one another’s eyes.

“Lorne?” Buffy asked, never taking her gaze off the piercing blue eyes hazy with lust.

“Shoo, go home, be safe,” Lorne said with amusement, making shooing motions neither of them really saw.

They stumbled out of the club, attached at the lips. Spike had her pressed up against the side of his car, grinding his erection into her and savoring her throaty moans when her words pierced his sex-addled mind.

“Wait. Stop.” Spike pulled back, breathing hard, trying to collect his wits. “What’s your name?” He stared blankly at her, trying to process her question. “What. Is. Your. Name?” It was the hint of amusement that pulled him back.

“Spike.” He glared when she began giggling. “Because Buffy is SUCH a gem.” To his surprise, Buffy just started laughing harder, which in turn set him off. When they’d settled down, their libidos had relaxed a bit as well, leaving them in the awkward in-between state.

“My place is pretty close,” Buffy murmured, her eyes fixated on Spike’s full lips.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning towards her.

“Oh yeah.” Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss, so different from the wildly heated kisses that had consumed them before. This…this was kindling. When they broke apart, Spike opened the car door for Buffy, trying to quell the part of him that was jumping up and down with joy that this gorgeous creature was taking him home. He didn’t even remember the drive to her apartment, driving on autopilot, or making it to her room.

His brain caught up with him sometime between her turning off the lights and lighting a pillar candle. Her sheer beauty aroused the poet in him, the way her golden hair gleamed in the flickering light, and her eyes seemed luminous.

Trembling, he reached out and ran his fingers through her hair.

“Beautiful,” he breathed reverently. He saw her blush and wondered if she blushed everywhere…and realized he’d get the chance to find out. Stepping closer, he gathered her in his arms, kissing her and enjoying the way she melted into him.

Buffy was in heaven. The way Spike kissed…her knees felt weak and her body screamed for more. She worked her hands under his shirt, feeling the goose bumps that followed her gentle touch. She meandered upwards, taking his shirt with her.

Spike growled his disapproval at being parted from her soft lips, but her look froze him. Her eyes were devouring the sight of his chiseled chest, raking over his exposed flesh like a starved woman. She raised one hand and traced the hard planes of his abs, pleased at the shiver her touch evoked.

Spike bore the torture of her gentle exploration as long as he could, before his sensitized nerve endings demanded more. Gasping, he pulled her close to him, claiming her mouth as his hands roved over her smooth back. He pulled her shirt off, his mouth fasted on her before she knew he was gone, the passionate need back full force. His lips traced a path down her jaw, to her collar bone, and down to her navel.

“Spike!” He almost came at the breathy note of want in her voice. Looking up, he slowly drew the zipper of her pants down, divesting her of the annoying clothing. Tossing them aside, he sat back to observe the utter perfection of his golden goddess in red lacy lingerie. And yes, she did blush all the way down.

Buffy blushed under his scrutiny, feeling his gaze like a trail of fire against her skin. When their eyes met, she sank down to her knees, even with him. She couldn’t remember wanting anyone as much as she wanted him right now. Completing that thought, she launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around him and grinding against the rigid length.

Spike groaned, half in pain, half in ecstatic pleasure. His pants were starting to chafe, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of them. It was hard with the limpet attached to his front, not that he was complaining. Laughing, he stumbled to the bed, simultaneously support Buffy and trying to take off his pants. She upped the ante by worrying his ear, doing sinful things with her tongue. He toppled them onto the bed with a grunt, finally shucking his pants off.

Buffy zeroed on the most interesting length of flesh exposed. Spike gasped and arched into her hand, his eyes crossing.

“God pet, tha’s amazin’.” Buffy smirked and caressed him again. “Jesus!”

“I like a man who goes commando,” she whispered in his ear. Spike shuddered again. This woman was going to be the death of him.

Spike decided that he’d had enough torture, and decided to turn the tables. Without warning, he nudged her slinky red bra aside and latched onto a nipple. He held her down with his hips, sucking on his treat, his hands dipping below the elastic of her underwear, sliding it down.

“Grashagla-ha!” Buffy managed.

“What was that?” Spike asked innocently.

“I me-ent fuck!” Spike smirked as he slowly rubbed his thumb against her clit, one finger teasing her opening. “Spike!” He slowly slid his finger into her, curling up to find the spongy spot within her. He had her writhing and moaning against the bed in no time, bra skewed and looking absolutely fuckable. He was surprised when she grabbed his hand, trapping him with strength he wouldn’t have thought compacted into her lithe body.

“I want you now.” Spike stared at her, lost in his world of want. “I’m protected.”

“I’m clean,” he heard himself say. Buffy yanked him down to her, crushing their lips together. She used her grip to guide him to her, rubbing the tip of his penis against her wet opening. He gasped, struggling to hold on, pushing forward towards her heat. It wasn’t long until they were both moaning with completion, enjoying the feeling of him seated with her, her walls wrapped snugly around his cock.

“God, pet. The things you do to me…” His voice was ragged and husky.

“I haven’t even started,” she whispered, before tightening her muscles around him. It felt like his cock was caught in a really pleasurable vice. She was gripping the hell out of him. With a moan, he started to move, driving into her welcoming warmth. He played with her clit, savoring ever moan and groan and tiny gasp.

Buffy drew her fingernails over Spike’s back, urging him on. She wrapped her legs around him, angling him deeper. He felt glorious, big and thick and pulsing within her. She was close, so close, but she didn’t want it to end.

“Spike,” she murmured. He grunted, his thrusts speeding up, feeling the need within her. “Spike!”

“Come for me, Buffy,” he gasped out. “Come for me.” And she did, loudly and gloriously, pulsating around him. Her muscles clenched around him, unforgiving, demanding his submission, which he gave with a hoarse shout, collapsing on top of her.

It was a while before either of them could move, before their muscles would even allow them to roll over. When they did, Buffy snuggled into Spike’s embrace, the two of them falling asleep as if they had been doing this for years.

---

A/N: And I can just see all the people scratching their heads going...where's the Twinlet's connection? Trust in your author, I'll take care of you. I already have the rest of this written, just working out the kinks. Well. The editing kinks, not the kink-kinks. Don't forget to leave me some love!

Spike woke up slowly the next morning, feeling extremely relaxed. He grinned into his pillow as the reason for his relaxation returned to him in full Technicolor, proving that at least one part of him wasn’t relaxed. He heard the shower cut off and a now-familiar voice singing something from down the hall. Spike slipped into his pants, eager to find his Buffy and see if some morning lovin’ was a possibility…because he knew without a doubt that last night hadn’t been a one time thing. He wanted more. Much more.

He walked down the hall, grinning like an idiot in love.

“So kiss me, and smile for me…tell me that you’ll wait for me. Hold me like you’ll never let me go-o!” Smirking, Spike knocked lightly on the door. “Come in.”

Spike slouched against the door frame, pushing the door open with one hand. His girl was wrapped in a fluffy towel, her hair up in a turban. She was looking at him with wide, green eyes. A flush started traveling down her neck, under the collar. Spike wanted to rip the robe off of her right there.

“Um…Sorry, I didn’t m—“ Spike silenced her with a kiss, delighting in the heat that passed between them. A man could easily get lost in feelings like this. He heard her startled squeak, a laughed, picking her up and putting her against the counter.

“Not a problem, luv,” he murmured. He kissed her again, loosening her robe so he could feel the skin underneath. He left her lips free while he explored the smooth column of her neck, nibbling at the skin. There was something different about her taste now, fresh out of the shower, but he reveled in it none the less.

“I…I don’t—Oh God! You don’t undejesus!” He chuckled against her neck as one hand pinched her nipple, rolling the hard nubbin between the pads of his fingers. She moaned, forgetting whatever trivial matter she’d been trying to bring up. Probably some nonsense about the morning after conversation. Well, he figured this would sum up his feelings on the matter quite nicely.

“I’m so hard for you, pet.” He ground himself into her just in case she doubted his sincerity. “I want you so badly, from the moment I laid eyes on you. You’re beautiful, perfect, my goddess.” He released her hair from the turban, her water-darkened locks falling around her shoulders. But he was captivated by her lust-dilated eyes that commanded him, begged him to take her. Spike pulled her to the edge of the counter, settling his jean-clad hardness against her.

“What do you want?” he asked her, his eye boring into her soul. He saw a moment’s hesitation before she yanked his mouth to hers, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him close.

“Good answer,” he gasped playfully, nipping at her lower lip. He pushed his pants down around his knees, giving himself enough room to move. He pulled her hips towards him, rubbing his cock up and down her slick slit. He took himself in hand, and rubbed the blunt tip across her clit, one hand holding her squirming hips in place.

“Oh my God!” she gasped out.

“I’ve been called worse,” he quipped, before slipping the head of his cock into her. He entered her slowly this time, wanting to draw the sensations out. Using short, shallow strokes, he sheathed himself in centimeters, listening to her increasingly colorful language as he teased her. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he silenced her with a passionate kiss, and drove fully into her silken heat, shuddering at the feeling.

She flailed, searching for purchase, and bottles crashed unnoticed to the floor. They were too wrapped up in one another to care bout anything else. She braced her hands against the sink, raising her hips to meet each of his thrusts, but she couldn’t quite get the angle right. With a sexy growl, he picked her up, still buried deep inside, and settled on the floor, his heated back against the cool tile.

“Ride me, gorgeous,” he whispered. Those devilish muscles clenched around him, strangling his cock. “G’damn!”

She started slowly, quick twitches of her hips that had him panting and pleading with her for more. She slowly lowered her head, long hair trailing lightly over his chest.

“That’s what you get for teasing me.” Spike moaned, and she never faltered in her frustrating little movements.

“Please,” he whimpered. He jerked and shouted when she squeezed him, her inner muscles slowly tightening around him in a pleasure/pain he never wanted to escape from. She moved over him, sliding on to him, tightening, and releasing as she slid off. It was like nothing he had ever felt.

She kept up her madding pace, teasing him and drawing him farther and farther into the primitive place in his mind where higher thought did not exist. Their mingled pants and moans echoed off the tiled bathroom walls. It was when she bent over and bit him that Spike’s control finally snapped.

He flipped them over, jerking her legs higher around him. Staring into her eyes, black rimmed with a thin coronet of green, he drove into her fast and deep. Her nails dug into his back as she held on, urging him faster.

“So…close…” she panted, but Spike was too gone to make sense of words. Her body told him all he needed to know. He angled his thrusts so he hit the hard, throbbing nub with his pelvic bone at every trust. He played her body instinctively, pulling her towards the edge. Her body went rigid as her orgasm ripped through her, her inner muscles clamping down on him and triggering his own orgasm. He bit down on the chorded muscles of her neck, bruising the tender flesh beneath and marking her as his.

He collapsed on top of her, unable to do anything but try and suck the air back into his lungs. He felt his golden goddess stirring beneath him, making the cutest little snuffling grunts and satisfied sounds.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” an amused voice cut through his after glow, but Spike couldn’t even begin to care if Buffy’s roommate or whatever had just walked in on them. He’d had the most amazing sex of his life twice in one day; nothing in this world could bother him right now. With great effort, he pushed himself up, making sure his body hid the woman beneath him.

“Sorry, we we-hat the soddin’ hell?” OK, so he’d been wrong, there was something that could cut though best-sex-of-his-life-happiness. Buffy was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, green eyes glittering. He looked back to the woman underneath him who was…Buffy. Smirk firmly affixed to her face, eyes still hazy with satisfaction. “What? But you're...there are...WHAT?!”

“You always meet the smartest people,” the woman beneath him sighed.

“He’s pretty, he doesn’t need to be smart,” the other one replied. Spike was looking from one to the other, trying desperately to get his brain to work. There was no way…this was absolutely impossible…what the hell?

“Buffy?” he asked in confusion, looking down at the woman he’d just fucked five ways to Sunday.

“Hi, I’m Liz!” she said with a small wave.

“Buffy?” he asked in confusion, looking down at the woman he’d just fucked five ways to Sunday.

“Hi, I’m Liz!” she said with a small wave.

***

“I’d have introduced you to each other, but I think you’ve already done that,” Buffy said with a laugh. Spike stared down at Liz, his brain rapidly trying to make sense of the situation. There were two of her. Of them. They were...

They were twins.

Someone was trying to kill him. He felt movement and looked down, where Liz was currently squirming uncomfortably and he was still, er, 'hanging out.'

“I…uh…I don’t…”

“You mind letting me up?” Liz asked innocently. She smothered a laugh at the panic flooding over his face. Boys were so EASY. “Or you could tell me your name. What ever is easiest for you.” Buffy suppressed her laugh. Poor Spike. He wasn’t even close to ready for this. Not by a long shot.

“Spike, pull your pants up and get off my sister!” Buffy snapped with an eye roll and a shared Look with her twin. Men. Buffy’s apparent anger fit in with Spike’s idea of what should be going on in this situation, so he scrambled up, fastening his jeans with trembling fingers as Liz calmly slipped back into her robe and ran her fingers through her terminally tangled hair. She was going to have to take another shower with lots of conditioner. And maybe an extra pair of hands. Or two.

Spike finished snapping his jeans, taking an extra moment to make sure that everything was tucked away and contained. When he looked up, he found himself standing between two green-eyed, beautiful women. Who were looking at him expectantly. As if he was supposed to speak now. Say something meaningful, that would put this entire situation to rights.

“I didn’t…I mean, this was…I’m sorry?” he managed to splutter, feeling his face heating up. The sisters only managed to keep it together for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. When she'd managed to contain herself, Liz sauntered up to the completely befuddled and confused Spike, pecking him on the cheek and patting him on the ass.

“Poor, confused baby. Come on, we’ll make you a cup of coffee,” she said, laughter in her voice. She took one hand, while Buffy stepped in to take his other, and led him into the kitchen. Spike had just enough brain cells functioning to follow.

***

Spike sat and drank his coffee, occasionally glancing at the two women sitting in front of him. The were…staring. Expectantly, again. Expecting what? They didn’t appear to be mad at one another, which was really weird. And they weren't mad at HIM, which just...broke every rule of dating and human relationships that had ever been written. Which just wasn't fair. And while he’d never accidentally slept with anyone thinking they were someone else before, he was pretty sure this wasn’t the average response. There they went again, exchanging that knowing look that made their lips quirk, like there was some joke he hadn't been in on, and taking sips of their coffee at the same time. It was kind of scary, watching them mirror one another. What had he gotten himself into?

Buffy and Liz had another silent conversation while Spike was staring mournfully into his cup of coffee. Liz’s look said, Really? Another pretty-but-dense one? Buffy’s look asked her to bear with him. Liz huffed and turned back to studying this Spike character. She blushed when their eyes met, her temperature rising and heart fluttering. What was it about this guy that made her feel all…twitterpated? And horny, mustn't forget horny.

Spike blushed as he met Liz’s eyes, quickly fastening his gaze to the table top; these women had stripped him of his confidence and reduced him to William with just their looks. This was beyond mortifying. This was worse than the one time his Da had given him ‘the talk’—after the fact. Really, who slept with the wrong twin?! Basically, what it boiled down to, was he had to make his apologies, assure them he knew he was completely to blame for everything, and walk away from the two most perfect women he’d ever met with his tail between his legs. Great. How does one start an “I’m the biggest ass who’s ever lived” conversation?

“This is getting ridiculous,” Buffy groaned, throwing her head back in annoyance. Her chair gave a loud thump as she let it fall back to the ground. Spike was staring at her, and Liz was shaking her head. “We’re not mad at you,” she told Spike evenly. He gaped at her, trying to get his mind to work. Liz rolled her eyes at Buffy’s impatience. The girl just did not know how to milk a situation.

“I…well, I got that,” Spike finally managed to get out. “I just don’t get why you’re not mad?” Buffy and Liz Looked at each other again.

“Does that bother you?” Liz asked without looking at Spike. Spike opened his mouth to reply, but found he had nothing to say. DID it bother him? He thought about it for a minute. Then he thought about it again. And the answer was no. HELL no. It just bothered him that he might have forced Liz into a…a sexual encounter that she didn’t want. He didn’t even want to touch the R-word, he couldn’t deal with that. When he pulled his attention back to the two lovely ladies, they were both looking at him.

“It…no, not really. I…” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. Stupid women, getting him all tongue tied. He wasn’t like this! He was good with women, never had these types of problems. “I’m just concerned that-that Liz might—“

“You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do,” Liz interrupted firmly. So maybe Buffy wasn’t the only one blessed with impatience. “And for the record, before this even becomes an issue, I did try to tell you I wasn’t Buffy.” Spike didn’t have anything to say to that. He really didn’t have anything to say to this entire surreal situation.

“Ok. But…sure. So why aren’t you upset?” Spike swallowed when he was suddenly fixed with two very seductive pairs of eyes.

“Want us to show you?” Buffy purred. Spike could only stare as she got up and sashayed—yep, that was definitely textbook sashaying—around the table. Oh, NO WAY!

“Think he’s…*up* for it?” Liz asked skeptically, looking him up and down. Spike felt the urge to prove her absolutely, irrevocably wrong on every count of anything, starting with her apparent lack of respect for his stamina. Which she had already had a damn good demonstration of if he did say so himself! He leaned back, curling his tongue seductively behind his teeth and leveling one of his devastating smirks at them.

“I think he's a little...cocky,” Buffy said, leaning into her sister's space. Spike arched a curious eyebrow. Liz smirked at him, a truly lascivious look that had Spike Jr. taking notice.

“He thinks he could keep up. It's cute.” Spike spluttered in indignation. He was NOT. CUTE. Hot, devilishly handsome, gorgeous, hell, he'd even accept God-like Adonis. But cute?

“I think we've insulted his manly pride,” Liz teased.

Spike gaped, trying to figure out why he was letting these women narrate his life (or at least their version of his life) without interrupting.

“Poor baby. I suppose we could make it up to him...” Spike's jaw dropped in amazement as he watched the two most beautiful women he'd ever seen kiss. This was just...not happening. He was going to wake up in two seconds and this will have never been. They were really kissing! What...what in the...Bloody. Hell.

Liz glanced over to see Spike's eyes glazed and unseeing, staring at them but not AT them. She giggled at his reaction. Buffy turned and rolled her eyes at the man. Only enough blood to run one brain at a time.

“At least we know he's up for it,” Liz whispered in her sister's ear. Buffy grinned broadly, a laugh escaping her lips. She glanced over at Spike, only to see him still zoned out.

“I think we broke him,” Buffy announced. That seemed to snap Spike out of it. With a growl that had Liz and Buffy looking startled (and a little hungry), he glided around the table and swept Buffy into his arms. With another low growl, he plundered her mouth. To be frank, he kissed the hell out of her. He ended the kiss and guided her, dazed and flummoxed, into a chair. His smoldering eyes turned to Liz, who gulped. Audibly.

“You shouldn't tease manly men, little girl.” And then he kissed the stuffin' out of her. Liz was quite sure she'd never been kissed quite like that before. But she definitely hoped to again. Spike pulled back to survey his work. He much preferred those green eyes glazed and confused over conniving and debating. “I think I broke them,” he said smugly, to no one in particular.

A/N: So, I've started my super intensive grad program. Holy Crap. Ergo, I'm not 100% sure when I'll be able to update...anything. Or have time to write. I hope you're alright with where I've left Twinnings. I honestly have no idea where I'd take the rest of the story, but if inspiration hits, it hits. And if any of you have any idea where it should go, I'm all ears.

Oh, and happy birthday Ochit! :)

Spike enjoyed his coffee while Liz and Buffy held a whispered conversation on the other side of the room. He was inordinately pleased with himself. Two hot girls in one day, who weren't going to ignore each other? Priceless. And the ultimate American Dream, no less.

The whispering continued, but Spike felt he had adequately made his point, so he was content to just sit back and let them scheme...take back some of the power...Spike grinned behind his coffee mug. Life was beautiful.

Liz and Buffy eyed the smirking Brit. The confidence just rolled off of him. That just would not do. Buffy flounced over to Spike, a brilliant smile plastered on her face. Liz followed, more amused than anything else. Buffy had A Plan.

“You're taking us to lunch,” Buffy announced cheerfully. Spike raised one eyebrow and took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. “After our shower.” Buffy grabbed Liz's hand and skipped out of the room, waiting for the realization to hit.

“Wait...our...?” A giggle floated to him from the hall, and Spike was up before the thought had fully filtered through his brain. The door slammed in his face, and a lock clicked into place. Spike stared at the smooth expanse of wood, cruelly separating him from deliciously naked flesh, and scowled. He pressed his ear against the door. Was that the whisper of a shirt hitting the ground? Spike jerked back from the door as what could only be a moan drifted over the sounds of a shower running.

Holy fuck.

He moved back to his place, ear pressed firmly against the roughened wood, briefly contemplating leaving to get a glass. But a particularly enthusiastic gasp had him riveted. The sounds were muddled by falling water, but his cock was straining against his jeans, his imagination supplying him with the image of water sluicing off heated flesh, jade eyes dark with lust, soapy hands running over slick bodies, water rolling down sensuous curves...

But Buffy would be getting impatient with the foreplay and push Liz up against the wall. She's use those sharp little teeth to claim Liz's lower lip, so pouty and full. Liz would moan—just like that—and roll her hips against the mirrors of her own, the hot water gathering between them. Buffy would trace the path of the falling water, and reach to touch Liz's steaming skin, goosebumps rising in her wake. Then they'd kiss, deeply and fully, their bodies drawing closer together so that not even the water could get between them and—Spike muffled a curse as the door swung open and spilled him onto the floor, Spike Junior at full mast, two freshly showered ladies smirking down at him

***
Buffy and Liz were doubled over with laughter by the time they made it into the bathroom.

“Oh man, did you see his face?!” Buffy gasped.

“I know! He was so confused!” They heard a dull thump against the door.

“You shower. I'll see what's up.” Liz shrugged but headed into the shower. Her hair could really use some TLC. She quickly stripped and got into the shower, just this side of too hot. Just the way she liked it. She groaned when she realized her hair was beyond tangled. It was like one giant rat's nest. This was going to take a lot of work. Time to pull out the bug guns. She'd gone through a quick conditioner, and was resudsing her hair when she heard Buffy gasp.

“Well?” Liz whispered from the shower, poking her sudsy head out. Buffy was crouched by the door, peering through the key hole and pressing her ear against the door. “Buffy!” Liz rolled her eyes as Buffy waved her away distractedly; apparently, whatever Spike was doing was incredibly absorbing. Liz felt a mischievous impulse and decided to run with it. She threw her head back and let out the most porntastic moan she could come up with.

“Jesus!” Buffy hissed. Liz grinned as her twin pulled the shower curtain to one side, staring at her incredulously (and a little awe-struck). Liz smirked and stuck her tongue at her dumbfounded sister. They heard what sounded suspiciously like whimpering coming through the door. Buffy's face lit up. She threw her head back and let out her own pornstar moan. There is was again, that strangled cat-dying sound. Liz jerked the curtain closed, and they kept trying to out-porn each other while Liz worked at untangling her hair. She quickly vacated the shower when Buffy got bored of the door and decided she needed a rinse off. Liz's own moans started sounding suspiciously like true pain as she attacked her locks with a comb.

All the while, Spike was making some truly amusing sounds through the door. The decided to take their time.

When they were both redressed and fairly presentable, they stopped in front of the door.

“Ready?” Buffy asked with a grin.

“Like you have no idea,” Liz answered. Buffy pulled open the door, and Liz had to scamper backwards to avoid Spike. He looked like sex, laying there, pants bulging, eyes hazy. The Twins exchanged a look, and then looked down at their victim.

“Did we interrupt something?” Buffy drawled in that seductive way Liz had never managed to emulate. Spike scowled at them and sat up gingerly. Liz stifled her laugh at his incredibly cute and put-out pout.

“Just nappin' while you birds took forever to get ready,” Spike said nonchalantly, trying to surreptitiously adjust himself. Buffy looked pointedly at his crotch.

“Right. You were...napping.” Liz let the laugh come out that time, and they both stepped over Spike, who scrambled up in their wake.

***

They led Spike to an all-day breakfast joint, a cozy little place with outdoor seating. Spike was both amused and concerned with how he willingly allowed them to lead him around. They'd ushered him into the back seat of a car, and that had been that. He was just along for the ride, done. Spike had a feeling he was turning into a kept man after only two shags and a cup of coffee. (Not to mention the likely set of blue balls he was sure to have after that shower performance.) But he was...surprisingly OK with that.

---

A/N: Hello! Guess what? I AM ALIVE! Shocking, I know. It's been a tough 10 weeks, but I'm officially done with the quarter tomorrow, so here's an early celebration. Man, if anyone's thinking about grad school, be prepared to have no life. But, if anyone is actually reading this, you may want to check the latest installment of the Twinlets One Shot. There's a very merry crack!fic posted in there that should put you all in a very crack-ficish mood.

And anything you have to say that will make my bruised and battered spirits lift will be much welcomed!

Part 5

They were emphatically not talking about it. Nope, not even thinking about it. The weekend was going to last forever (and ever and ever). None of them would have to go to work or get on with their lives, they could just enjoy lots of really great sex and some food every now and then. And maybe some shower sex, just to mix things up. But they weren't thinking about any of that.

“I can't...fuck, too much, it's too much...” Spike dug his fingers into Liz's hips, keeping her steady and from pulling away. He made his tongue a sharp, unforgiving point at drove it rapidly into her clit, feeling it throb against the muscle. He twisted his fingers just so, caressing the spongy spot inside her channel, which spasmed around his fingers. “Spike!”

His chuckle turned into a full-out moan when Buffy tightened her incredibly powerful muscles around his cock. Fuckin' hell, where did those muscles come from? He felt like he was being strangled, his dick almost severed from his body by her tight, warm heat. Liz threw her head back and braced herself haphazardly against the headboard, trying to stay balances as the vibrations of Spike's vocalizations traveled straight through her clit. The man was better than any vibrator! And god she was close, so close.

Buffy had her eyes closed as she concentrated on riding Spike through the mattress. She heard the moans behind her, reactions to her movements, and it was a heady feeling. She was responsible for the pleasure of the two people behind her. Buffy angled her hips so Spike's gorgeous, amazing cock was rubbing against her G-spot on every stroke, and her clit was stimulated every time she drove down. She felt so full, so good.

She felt a dizzying rush of pleasure flow through her, the primer to the very intense orgasm she was just on the cusp of. So close, a few more strokes should do it. She briefly thought about slowing down, prolonging the experience, when Spike did some truly inspired hip-swivel and she was off. White-hot pleasure raced through her, waves crashing over one another, building and building. Spike's fingers were suddenly there, playing with her clit, forcing her into wave after wave of aftershocks. She wanted to cry out, to tell him to stop because it was too much, way too much, when another orgasm ripped through her. Every muscle tensed and she clutched Spike's legs hard enough to leave very discernible bruises. But FUCK. Her body shook as it came out of orgasm-rigors, trembling with release and that satiated fluidity that made moving so very hard after good (great, amazing, mind blowing) sex. She eased herself off of Spike's still rock-hard erection, sprawling off to one side.

Liz was so focused on keeping her balance that she didn't even register the move until Spike slid home inside of her. With that one stroke, Liz came hard around him, her walls fluttering in release, her back arched, her eyes staring unseeing at the wall as stars danced before her eyes. She felt Spike's teeth dig into her shoulder as he came too, the pain piggybacking on her pleasure and enhancing it. She collapsed onto the bed, her legs made of jello and her mind trying to piece itself back together. Spike was heavy on her back, a gasping cluster of nerve endings stuttering for breath and trying to regain its center.

God, if that happened on a regular basis, one (or all) of them was surly going to die.

Liz shivered when Spike rolled off, her body coated with cooling sweat. He pulled her up towards him, cradling her into one side as he pulled Buffy to the other. Liz was about to complain about getting stuck in the wet spot when she realized the entire bed was one huge wet spot, a testament to their marathon sexcapades and the sheer amount of energy they had put into their mutual pleasure. They drifted off into a contented sleep, far too relaxed to do much of anything.

A shrill noise jolted Spike out of his happy, warm bubble. The two bodies beside him, the only things keeping his rapidly cooling body warm, grumbled their displeasure. Spike stumbled out of the bed, taking a moment to appreciate how the two girls gravitated towards one another, and searched for his obnoxiously ringing phone (and by extension, his pants). When he found it, 6:30 blinked accusingly at him from the screen, the alarm bringing reality crashing down around his head. Soddin' work. He sighed and glanced at the lusciously naked bodies splayed on the bed. Hellfire and damnation! He resentfully pulled his pants on and found his very wrinkled shirt.

“Work?” a quite voice asked. Spike looked towards the voice and froze, totally transfixed. Buffy was propped up in the bed, her hand resting lightly on Liz's hip, both of them backlit by the soft light of dawn. Spike felt a dizzying rush pass through him, as if the past and the future had collided and formed one exquisitely perfect moment. His phone buzzed against his hip, startling him out of his reverie. Scowling, he flipped the offending machine open and glared at the message. And address glared back at him, and his scowl deepened. The real world was intruding on his dream.

“I gotta go,” Spike said softly, not wanting to wake Liz. He moved towards the bed, unable to stay away. He placed a chaste kiss on Liz's lips and caressed Buffy's bare hip with his hand. Gods he was a lucky bloke.

“I'll walk you out,” Buffy offered. Spike smiled and nodded. Buffy wrapped herself in a soft robe and linked her arms with Spike. Liz cracked one eye open and watched the stunning pair make their way out of the room, allowing Buffy her time to say goodbye to Spike alone and (if her sister was smart) get his number. She owed her twin that much, even if she wanted to cram as much time with the blonde Brit as possible. Her eyes fluttered closed of their own accord; great sex really did make her tired, and she drifted off into a deep, rejuvenating sleep.

Buffy escorted Spike to the door in silence, trying to figure out what to say to him that wasn't totally cliched or incredibly cheesy. She opened her door, but Spike lingered on the threshold. Buffy felt her heart rate increase as Spike worried his bottom lip, and she just had to have one more taste. She pulled him in for a deep, searching kiss and used his distraction to press a small piece of paper into his hand. She blushed as she realized she hadn't fooled him.

“You know, if you're bored or...whatever,” she mumbled. Spike grinned; his brash goddess was embarrassed about giving him her number. Shaking his head mockingly, Spike pulled out one of his business cards and presented it with a flourish.

“If you're bored or...” he looked her up and down appraisingly, “whatever.” Buffy laughed and shoved him playfully out the door, though she desperately wanted him to stay, to remain in this cocoon of warmth they'd built around themselves, away from the real world. “See you around pet.”

“Yeah, you'd better,” Buffy challenged. She grinned as Spike walked backwards away from her, keeping her in sight as long as possible. He paused and blew her a kiss before vanishing from sight. Staring at where Spike used to be, Buffy heaved a huge sigh. She was so doomed.

---

A/N: A couple of little things: Happy New Year! I hope everyone rang in 08 in style and had a wonderful National Hangover Day afterwards. I did. While I don't have anything too fun to post (YET), I wanted to let the LJers out there know that I finally caved and opened an LJ as Xela_fic (http://xela-fic.livejournal.com/). Yes, I know, just what I need, something ELSE to keep track of. But that's part of my New Year's Resolution (not really). So if you're on LJ, hit me up! Oh, and Blood Faerie is a truly insidious influence.

Spike was grumbling to himself the entire way to the address. Thankfully, he had his GPS, not that Sunnydale was a particularly big town. He got on his phone to arrange for someone to bring him a change of cloths because as much as he liked the memories, they smelled a bit. He pulled up outside of a large mansion, hidden down a winding road.

“Spike! You're almost late and you smell like sex. A lot of sex. While I'm glad you've been the recipient of many orgasms, but time is money and money makes the orgasms better.” Spike shrugged and followed Anya into the house.

It was immaculate. Spike's lip curled up in disgust. Who could live like this? The environment was sterile and unwelcoming. Almost hostile, Spike thought with a frown.

“No frowning!” Anya chided. “The clients don't like frowning.” Spike snorted; he didn't give a sod about the clients. Besides, he was an artist, he was allowed be temperamental. Anya opened a door and pushed him in the small demibath. “Change, quickly. See if you can...sponge down or something. And be prepared to give me details at lunch.”

Spike rolled his eyes heaven-wards and shrugged into the change of clothes Anya had provided. Well, even if he didn't like these people's house, he could at least thank them for bringing them here and giving him the chance to meet those two green-eyes beauties...

“SPIKE!” Anya banged on the door, startling him our of his reverie. He growled at the intrusion and stalked out of the door, dressed all in black and more than ready to play the pissy artiste.

“...and this exquisite piece brings the room into perfect balance, wouldn't you agree?” Spike arched his eyebrow as a diminutive blonde woman with a fearsome bearing intimidated one of his grips. The hustle took on a different quality as he entered the room, and Spike found himself the focus of the woman's intense focus. “And you must be...Spike.” She lingered on his name as if trying to decide just what she thought about him. Spike simply nodded his head, just this side of cheeky.

“Spike, this is Darla McAvery, CEO of Angelus Industries. Her husband is Liam McAvery, the company's president.”

“He should be here shortly,” Darla assured him, as if Spike cared. Spike busied himself with his equipment, wanting to anything but get involved in a conversation with the noxious woman. She made his skin crawl.

Darla watched the blonde photographer with interest. He was quite pretty, she wouldn't mind a dalliance with him. She didn't think her Angel would either. They were, after all, connoisseurs of pretty things.

“Pet, can you set up the lights for a test shot?” Darla purred at the accent, so different from her husband's Irish tint. To hear that voice all husky and aroused would be divine.

Spike tried to keep himself busy so he wouldn't have to think about the eyes that followed his every movement. The McAvery gave him the willies, and he wasn't an easy person to scare.

“Sorry I'm late, emergency meeting. We ready to begin?” That voice sent a similar chill down Spike's spine. He turned and got his look at Mr. Angelus Industries, who purportedly went by the name of Angel. From Spike's point of view, there was nothing angelic about either of them. It was only then that Spike realized everyone was staring at him expectantly. He quickly ran one last check of his camera and his settings before looking up, pasting a chipper look on his face.

“Yep, all set here. I was thinking of using the natural light and your big bay windows—“

“Oh,” Angel interrupted, a slightly malicious grin on his face, “we were thinking something more formal and classic, a family portrait by the hearth or something.”

“Oh darling, what could it hurt to allow Spike to...play...with us a little? He's the artist, after all.” Darla smiled winningly at the photographer, but she had nothing on the two ladies he had so recently left behind. Darla's smile became strained when Spike merely shrugged noncommittally.

“What ever you two want.” Spike just wanted to get this over with and get to the nearest phone. “If you could stand by the fireplace, I'll take a few test shots with the digital SLR and we can set up the lighting.”

“Whatever you want,” Darla purred. Angel looked over Darla's latest toy but found him...oddly inspiring. He was pale and fair, and Angel could only imagine how wonderful it would be to mark that flawless skin. The way his shirt rode up when he reached for something showcased toned abs and more smooth flesh. Oh yes, this one could be fun.

“Mmmmmm, your desire is intoxicating,” Darla whispered in her husband's ear. He was so deliciously dark and twisted. They barely registered the flash or the camera whirring.

“Good. Move light two a bit to the left and that should be perfect.”

“The pixies capture souls in tiny boxes, but what to pain when there is no soul?” Spike spun around. An incredibly pale and frail-looking girl stood beside him, her eyes focused on something in the distance.

“Come again, pet?” he asked, wondering where she'd come from.

“Druscilla, darling, what are you doing here?” Darla elbowed Angel, telling him silently to take care of this.

“Dru, we've talked about this, you're supposed to stay in your room,” Angel said brightly, taking the girl's arm and guiding her away. Spike was left frowning after a pair of haunted eyes.

“Our daughter,” Darla said, pulling Spike's focus to the suddenly up-close and personal client. “She's special.” Darla ran her hands down Spike's black button up shirt, brushing away imaginary lint.

“She's, ah, pretty,” Spike managed, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

“Yes. Who would you say she takes after?” Darla lowered her face and looked at Spike through her lashes, trying for coy. Spike just thought she looked somewhat constipated.

Spike was seconds away from saying “The milkman” when Angel returned and announced himself on a tight schedule. The rest of the day went without interruption, and Darla only hit on him once or twice every five minutes. Nothing he couldn't handle. Nevertheless, Spike was eternally grateful when he threw himself on the hotel bed. He'd been on his feet taking pictures of the McAvery's in every room of their sodding perfect mansion all day. He deserved a bath. Especially since he was contracted through the end of the week to take pictures of Angelus Industries' various galas. The things he did for money.

He almost didn't answer his cell when it rang. Almost.

“'s Spike, better be import'nt.”

“Oh, well, I'm the most important person in my world, does that count?” Spike was suddenly completely awake, and so was Spike Jr.

“I guess I could make an exception for you, pet.” He smiled into the phone, relaxing back into the pillows.

“I know there's some sort of three-day-rule thing, but I'm not patient and...hello!” Spike laughed. That was his Buffy.

“To be fair, if I hadn't been so bushed tonight, I would've called you, three days be damned.”

“Yeah?”

“Damn straight, pet.”

“You gonna be tired tomorrow night?” Buffy asked with feigned casualness.

“Seein' as I've got tonight to recover from this weekend...I think I could manage tomorrow.” Buffy laughed huskily, and Spike's cock stirred at the sound.

“Then I'll call you tomorrow around 6.” Spike raised an eyebrow at that.

“You callin' the shot here Goldilocks?”

“Yeah, I am. You got a problem with that?” Buffy challenged. Spike grinned.

“You gonna insist on being on top too?” he teased.

“You know it.”

“Then we're just fine luv. Six it is.”

Spike was still grinning when he hung up the phone, disturbing thoughts of Angelus Industries firmly out of his head.

Buffy hummed contentedly as she finished straightening her hair. It fell in long, warm golden waves down her back. Oh yeah, she was gonna be smokin' tonight. She heard the front door close and Liz's backpack thump on the ground. Buffy checked her hair one last time and went to find her sister.

Liz was, predictably, sitting on her bed doing homework. She was making notations in a giant textbook and highlighting it so much Buffy was pretty sure they could see it on the moon. After a minute, she knocked on the door jamb.

“Hey! What's up?” Liz asked with a smile. She tucked her dark hair behind an ear and Buffy was struck with how well Liz wore the dark look. It was...sultry. Something that fit her personality, but only in certain situations.

“So I talked to Spike last night.” Liz smiled politely and then found something very interesting in her textbook. Wow, Mary Wollstonecraft stood up to her abusive father, challenged her brother for a share of the family inheritance, and took care of her siblings in the end. Fascinating. “Liz?” She jerked up and blinked at Buffy.

“Uh...yeah?” Her sister frowned.

“Did you hear me?”

“Oh, uh, no. Sorry. Big paper, kind of all frazzled and distractey.” Buffy smiled.

“Oh. So I guess you don't want to come hang out tonight?” Liz swallowed down the lump in her throat and waved Buffy away.

“No no no, I'd just be the bump-on-a-log PhD candidate freaked out about her paper. No fun Lizzie. But, uh, tell him is said hi, OK?” Buffy pasted a smile on her face and agreed readily enough, but she really wanted to know why her sister was lying to her. She'd seemed pretty into Spike the other day. They'd hooked up with the same guy before but Spike was...well, there was just something different about him, about them and him.

“Sure. Call me if you change your mind?” Liz nodded and turned her attention back to her Mary Wollstonecraft and early feminism essay. Buffy hesitated a moment before silently slipping out of the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Liz let out a loud sign and pitched forward on her bed. God, that had been painful. What was Buffy doing inviting her out on a date with her (not yet but almost) boyfriend? They'd never dated the same person. Shared, one-night stands, threesomes yeah. But...dating? That was a whole 'nother can of worms that they'd never discussed or approached. Not that Liz would have touched Angel with a ten foot pole, and Buffy had been incredibly skeptical of Riley. So tagging along to be the third wheel? Nnnoooo thank you Buffy. She was going to stay in with a tub of ice cream and her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice.

***

Buffy checked her make up one last time in the shiny reflective surface of the elevator. She turned a little to the side to get a profile view. Yep. She looked smokin'. She was grinning by the time she stepped out of the elevator.

She made her way to room 3015. This was the nicest hotel in Sunnydale, and the top floors were not cheap. Buffy found herself wonder just what it was that Spike did. And what had brought him here. She knocked lightly on the door.

Spike was hot. Well, she knew that, but...wow. That shirt and those pants and...was that eyeliner? YUMMY.

She grinned when she caught Spike appraising her similarly...and liking what he saw. He caught her eye and flushed a bit, the tips of his ear turning pink, but he grinned back at her.

“No Liz?” he asked, craning his neck to look further down the hall. A brief shadow chased across Buffy gave before she banished it with a bright smile.

“Nah. Big paper. Continuing education and all that.”

“Oh yeah? What's that?”

“She's getting a PhD in Literature with a focus on the evolution of feminist thought in the Western world.”

“And you?” Spike drew Buffy's hand to his lips and let his tongue flick out, tasting the warm California sun on her golden skin.

“I'm a high school guidance counselor and a martial arts instructor.”

“Oh really?” Buffy saw the light of arousal wink on in his eyes and smirked. Oh yeah, he was definitely a keeper. Guys who got turned on by her ability to kick their asses were definitely her cup of tea.

“Ye-p.” She popped the p, gratified when Spike zeroed in on her mouth. He leaned subtly towards her, tongue curled against his teeth in a sexy way. Buffy leaned in closer, encouraging a little boldness on his part. When their lips were millimeters apart, Buffy sprang her trap.

“Great, I'm starving, let's eat!” She was breezing out the door and halfway to the elevator when Spike's brain kicked back into gear. He groaned and adjusted himself.

“Evil bint.”

***

Dinner was delicious. The conversation? Delightful. The wine? Potent. Buffy, whose tolerance hadn't gotten that much better in college despite some truly heroic effort for a couple of years, was happily tipsy. She felt warm and content and a little horny. She was lounging in Spike's hotel room, admiring the luxury all around her. He had a giant president's suite with two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and some other random room that he could use for...whatever. Buffy giggled as her mind supplied her with images of 'whatever' could entail.

“Somethin' funny, pet?” Spike murmured, running his hand across her ankle. He'd been giving her a foot massage, enraptured with the feel of her skin beneath her fingers. She smiled sleepily at him, her green eyes bright in the dim light.

“Just...thinking.”

“Uh oh, I thought I smelled something burning.” She rolled her eyes and kicked at him, which really just pressed her foot further into his hand in an effort to get him to continue. Spike obliged, skimming his long fingers up the arch of her foot. “What were you thinkin', luv?” Buffy sighed in contentment and wiggled her relaxed toesies.

“Nu-uh. You mocked me.” Her pout was adorable, and Spike couldn't help himself. He released her foot and crawled the length of the couch until he was hovering over her, their faces inches away.

“I didn't. Was just teasin'.” He kissed her, softly, all apology and seduction.

“I don't believe you,” she said, just to be petty. And to maybe get more kisses like that. Spike smiled and pressed another kiss to her kips, and then one to the corner of her mouth.

“I'm sorry.” He kissed the other side of her mouth. “I truly am.” He kissed her forehead. “You're brilliant.” He kissed her left eye. “Brighter than any star in th'sky.” He kissed her right eye. “Gorgeous t'boot.” Be kissed just below her ear, felt the breathing speed up. “Funny.” He gave the other side the same treatment, not wanting a single part of her to feel left out. “Amazing.” He kissed her clavicle, just where he could see the flutter of her fast beating heart. “I'm sorry.” He looked at her with his piercing blue eyes, outlined so brilliantly by the black eyeliner and she felt something inside of her shift.

“I believe you.” She drew him down for another slow, relaxed kissed, their bodied fitted together like they belonged. This was so very different from the last time. This wasn't about hormones or lust. This was about them, about the connection they'd felt from the moment they'd seen each other.

Their clothes disappeared at some point, though the only reason Buffy knows that for sure is they both wake up naked. They had sex on the couch, gazing at each other like some sappy romance novel, barely moving against one another. They'd just...connected, allowed the sensations of being enveloped and enveloping to build until they crested, shuddering to completion. Spike had pulled a blanket over them and they'd fallen asleep entwined on the couch, still intimately connected.

But despite all that, despite the truly magical evening, both of them couldn't help but think, in a very private part of their souls, that something undefinable had been missing.

“Hi.” Spike's voice was sleep-rough and sexy. Buffy grinned and stretched out on the bed, enjoying the way her muscles rippled and she felt the reminders of last night's activities. Spike appreciated the show.

“Hi,” she responded, licking kiss-swollen lips, tasting. Spike trailed kisses down her body, the center of her chest, over her breast bone and down to her bellybutton. “Mmmm, Spike.” He rested his head on her stomach, hair a sexy mess of curls and wild cowlicks.

“What are you doing today, pet?” Buffy ran her fingers through his hair, breaking apart the last of his hair gel.

“I dunno. You?” Spike huffed a laugh into her stomach, nipping the soft skin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How you gonna do me?” he asked, dragging his tongue the length of her rib cage. Buffy squirmed under him, but stilled as he sent a cool puff of air across the wet skin. “Well?”

“That—oh! That depends.” She gasped. He rubbed his stubbled jaw along the underside of her breast, the rough friction making her shiver.

“On what?”

“Well...if we stay here...” she swallowed as his teeth began worrying her neck, “...then I'll let you keep doing that, until I'm hot and moaning for it. I'll flip you over and return the favor, tease and suck you until you're begging for me. And if you're really...nice...” Spike slipped two fingers into her cunny, rubbing his thumb around her clit “...I'll let you in, ride you till you come and...fuck!” Her hips twitched up involuntarily, trying to find a rhythm.

“And if we don't stay?” he murmured against her heated flesh, lazily circling her clit, taking his time with his seduction. Nothing better than a lazy morning in bed.

“If we don't stay, you take me home.” She reached down and gave him a few gentle strokes. He groaned, and she paused to roll a condom over him. She guided him to her entrance, positioned him and then raised her hips to meet him. Spike wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, angling her hips up. They came together sluggishly, neither one of the in any rush. “Take me home, and I'll lay you over my bed, tease you, touch you, every-oh, oh!-place I can find, every place I can get to. I'll open you up, and I have this strap on. I'd fuck you slow, slower than now,” she whispered.

“Jesus fuck!” Spike groaned, her words hitting him, fanning the fires. He was close, so close, his mind swimming with images of Buffy and a strap on, him spread out and at her mercy. Buffy tightened her inner muscles around him.

“And when I finished, when I'm done with you...I'd go get Liz.” Spike's vision blurred and his orgasm washed over him, a gently swirling pleasure and drew him under. He distantly felt Buffy come, the fluttering of her walls sending eddies through his own pleasure, and he had just enough energy to be pleased that she finished.

They slipped into a light sleep, Spike's nose buried in Buffy's neck.

****

“You really have a strap on, luv?” Spike wondered as they approached Buffy's apartment.

“No girl should be without one,” Buffy said happily. She turned a knowing eye on Spike. “Why, you wanna play with it?” He leered at her.

“I wouldn't be opposed.”

“And...Liz?” Spike studied her for a moment, trying to gauge what answer she was looking for. The twins had told him they'd done threesomes before, but he didn't know if they were amenable to sharing a man in a relationship sort of way. Buffy wasn't giving anything away, though, so Spike decided he might as well go with the truth.

“Wouldn't be opposed.” Buffy glared at him. “Wot?”

“'Wouldn't be opposed'?” she said in a mock-British accent. “That's my twin sister you're talkin' about there buddy. You better be more into her than 'not opposed to.'” Spike laughed and held up his hands in surrender.

“'M British, luv. We're given to understatement.”

“You better get to over stating that understatement fast then,” she warned threateningly.

“You do interesting things with language, pet,” Spike observed. She stopped and crossed her arms, not letting Spike weasel his way out of admitting how much Liz turned him on. Spike scuffed his boot on the ground like a chastised schoolboy, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that, Spikey-poo?” Buffy asked mockingly. His head popped up and he glared at her, blue eyes flashing.

“Your. Sister. Is. Unbearably. Hot. And. Is. Driving. Me. Crazy,” he enunciated clearly. Buffy sidled up to him, her breath quick with arousal.

“Yeah?” she whispered against his lips. He groaned and swept her up, pressing his lips to hers. Jesus, the things she did to him, made him want to tell her...

“Wow, um...” Liz was staring at them, a high stack of books clutched in her arms. Spike's world tilted dangerously, Buffy pressed against him, Liz looking at him with wide, wide eyes. Eyes that reflected arousal, if he was reading the signs right. He reached out towards her, but she suddenly seemed to shut off, stepping away from them. “Sorry, didn't mean to...ah, yeah, you might wanna get a room. O-or something.”

“Lizzy,” Buffy purred, turning so that he back was fitted against Spike's front. She held her hand out, but Liz shook her head and plastered on a smile Spike wouldn't have bought for a two-dollar bill.

“Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. I'll see you upstairs.” Liz practically ran away from them. Buffy untangled herself from Spike with a sigh, her sister's weirdness.

“She's been acting strange for a while. I don't know what's buggin' her.”

“Really?” Spike asked, because it was quite clear to him. Buffy was a bit affronted that Spike knew something about her sister that she didn't. Spike sidled up to her, smirking. “Oh, pet. Your sister's jealous. She thinks she's not invited to the party that there's not enough of me to go around...and that you aren't willing to share.”

Buffy cocked her head to one side, considering Spike's assessment, putting Liz's moping in context. A slow smile worked over her face. Well if that was the case...she ran her fingers along the lapels of Spike's duster.

“Well...I wouldn't mind...” she trailed off, licking her lips suggestively. Spike stepped closer to her.

“I think you know where I...stand.” He pushed his erection into her hip. Buffy chuckled deep in her throat. Operation Seduce/Torture Liz was on. Plan A: Operation Strap On.