Buffy had awakened from a deep slumber just a few minutes before, only to find herself alone. Again. She was certain that, this once, she would finally get to wake up in her lover’s arms. Angel and Parker (Mr. Poophead) had kept that experience from her, and Spike--well, they really hadn’t had the chance, now had they?

Not a little miffed, she sat up in the still-warm bed and ran her fingers through her hair. Or, so she tried to. Brow furrowed, the young woman lifted her hands to the sides of her head and felt... braids? Her hair had been worked into two long braids, which hung over her shoulders. What the hell was...

“Argh!”

She made the mistake of looking down at herself and saw that she was dressed in a light green dress and white frilly pinafore. Although she didn’t really know what a pinafore was, she was willing to bet she was wearing one. Throwing the blankets off of herself, she hopped off the side of the bed. Looking for some footwear, she groaned, shaking her head. Figures...

There, just by her feet, was a pair of wooden clogs--and just her size, to boot. Grumbling, she slipped them on and clomped over to the door. She muttered to herself as she negotiated the distance in her size 6 spruces. “Stupid vampire. When I get my hands on him, I’m gonna tear his head clean off--after I make him walk in these stupid shoes.”

Once outside--why on earth was she looking for a vampire outdoors during the day, anyway?--she began to scan the grounds for Spike. As she headed over to the woodshed (maybe he was gathering some firewood or something), she felt a raindrop hit her nose. Funny, she thought to herself, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. She could hear chuckling, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

The Slayer felt dizzy as the scenery around her changed back to that of the bedroom. She was back in bed, but for some reason it was still raining. The chuckling continued as she wiped the wetness from her nose.

“Mornin’ luv.”

Ok, that would explain the chuckling. Buffy turned to her left and saw Spike lying beside her, clad only in his black jeans. She looked down at herself and saw that she was still naked under the sheets. Combing her fingers through her hair, she was glad to feel that it was braidless. Thank God for the little things...

Propping herself on her elbows, she gave him half a smirk. “You know, you came this close to becoming a pile of dust just now.”

The vampire kept his eyes locked with hers, although he was trailing a cold, wet finger down her neck, along her clavicle and just along the edge of the covers that still hid her breasts. “That so?”

“Mmm hmm... I had this horrid dream, where I was, like, Heidi or something. My hair was braided and I was wearing some stupid green dress with an apron--oh! and I had to wear those wooden shoes, whatever they’re called.”

“Clogs?”

“Yeah, that’s it--clogs. Anyway, I thought that you did it, and I went outside to look for you... And then it started to rain, even if the skies were blue...” She trailed off and squinted her eyes at him. “Wait a minute... I know why your hands are cold, but why are they wet?”

Spike raised a tin cup, dipped a finger in it and traced the tip of her nose with the wet digit. “Had ourselves a bit of precipitation last night, pet. Thought you might be interested an’ all,” he showed her the contents of the cup, “but it melted before you woke up.”

Buffy’s eyes grew large before she jumped up on the bed to look out the window. “It snowed?! Oh my God, did it ever! You can’t even see the ground!” She danced around, excited like a young child the night before Christmas.

She squealed when she was pulled down back onto the bed. Before she had a chance to gather her wits (or catch her breath), Spike covered her body with his own, blue eyes almost black with lust.

“Christ, Slayer, don’t you know what that does to me--seeing your beautiful body bouncin’ around like that?” He had pulled back a little, resting his weight on his forearms, but his eyes never lost their hunger.

Snow forgotten--for the moment--Buffy looked up coyly at the vampire, batting her eyelashes. Tracing a finger down the length of his hard chest, she teased him. “Why, Spike--I have no idea what you mean. Why don‘t you show me?”

Growling low in his chest, the vampire muttered “vixen” before thrusting his lips onto hers in a passionate embrace.

Buffy opened her mouth to Spike’s probing tongue as her hands reached down to undo the demon’s jeans. His left hand was already wandering south, tracing invisible lines down her side, making her squirm both in anticipation and because she was ticklish.

Spike’s chuckle at her sensitivity turned into a moan when he felt the Slayer’s hot little hand grasp his cock. He knew he’d never ever have a problem performing with her; everything about this young woman drove him nuts--her taste, her smell, her humanity. When her toes grasped his pant legs and began to pull down, the vampire got the hint. Pulling himself up, he sat on the edge of the bed to rid himself of the denim barrier.

Concentration was difficult to come by, as the Slayer had moved to press herself up against his back, one leg on each side of him. Her arms were coiled around his waist, hands tracing the outline of his abs. The vampire didn’t even attempt to suppress the moan that rose at the feel of her tongue drawing a hot, wet line down his neck and along his shoulder. If this is what fresh air did to her, he’d have to permanently keep her at the cabin.

Buffy didn’t know what possessed her to act out like she did. She didn’t often initiate anything in the bedroom, but for some reason she felt like she had to--she couldn’t just sit there and watch this god of a demon undress without feeling him, or tasting him, or heck--wrapping herself around him. His body was cool and felt good against her flushed skin. She loved the feel of his muscles underneath his smooth skin--so soft on top, yet so hard underneath. It was the opposite of his personality, she realized: Spike himself had woven an image of the Big Bad, all tough and uncaring, yet when you scratched below the surface, he was all soft and sensitive.

Not that you’d live long if you ever told anyone that...

Her musings were interrupted when the vampire turned to face her, leaning back against the head of the bed and pulling her onto his crossed legs. Hmm... never tried this before. She was pulled flush against him, her hardened nipples rubbing against his chest, her bent legs at his sides, pressed against the cabin wall. When he pressed his lips against hers, opening his mouth to her tongue, Buffy couldn’t help but bring her hands up to play in his hair. When mussed, it defied the gel he copiously applied to it and became soft and curly. Which allowed the Slayer to twirl her fingers in them--something she didn’t think she’d ever get enough of.

Spike knew she’d never been in this position before from the surprised look in her eyes when he pulled her onto his lap. It wasn’t something that everyone would be comfortable attempting--the angle being awkward and difficult for most who didn’t have the abs and muscle control they both had. His hands went to the Slayer’s hips and lifted her so he could position himself at her entrance.

When she felt him slide in--slide home--Buffy’s head dropped back and her grip on his shoulders tightened. “God, that feels better every time...” She lifted her head back up and, lips slightly parted, directed her hazel gaze straight through his blue one. Her hands moved up to his face and began to explore it as if they were feeling it for the first time.

As the Slayer’s fingers traced his scarred eyebrow, his sharp cheeks and his cool lips, Spike couldn’t tear his gaze away from hers. He felt hypnotized, as if he were drowning in vast greenish-brown pools that reflected the awe and admiration he was experiencing at that moment. She was right and he knew it. It did get better every time. Although he didn’t only think that in the physical sense. Spiritually, emotionally, or whatever the hell you want to call it--he felt like she was sharing her soul with him, little by little. Every time they parted ways, he was more of a man.

And for some cosmically fucked-up reason, that made him happy.

Spike’s hold on her hips tightened, and Buffy took that as a hint to press herself down onto him even faster. She knew this wasn’t the emotionally-charged encounter they’d shared the previous night--it was, simply put, just a good bit of lust that needed to be worked out of their systems. Feeling his lips on her neck, where she’d allowed--okay, asked--him to drink from her, she realized that this made her almost as happy. Just as long as she was in his arms.

The vampire’s release spurred her own on, and they gasped each other’s name in unison. Breathing erratically, Buffy let out a chuckle.

Faring no better than the human, Spike managed to ask in between breaths “What’s funny, luv?”

The young woman pulled him in for a quick kiss on the lips before falling back onto the bed. “I was just thinking how nice it would be to wake up to this every morning. It would sure beat having Mom pull the blankets off me...”

Spike smiled at that, but said nothing. He just wanted to savour the moment--and memorize everything about the woman lounging in front of him: the rise and fall of her chest with every deep breath, the rosy spots on her cheeks, the curve of her stomach and hips, the gurgling of her stomach...

“Oh!” Buffy’s eyes grew wide and her hand went straight to her stomach. “Guess that means it’s time to get dressed and get some food in me.” She hesitated for a moment. “You do have food here, right?”

Pulling his jeans back on, the bleached blonde nodded. “Yeah, I sent word to the caretakers so they would leave a bit of food up here for you...” Oh, bugger.

Her hands stopped in mid bra-clasping. “What do you mean, food for me? Spike--how did you know I’d be coming up here? Is this all some kind of trick? Is Dru really gone?” If this was all some sort of sick joke...

Spike handed Buffy her shirt and pants. “Look, Slayer. Everything I said was true. Dru is gone--the only thing I didn’t come out straight and tell you is that I was really hoping that I could get you up here. It was a lucky coincidence that you were at the Bronze, but if you hadn’t been there, I was prepared to find you. Even if it meant going to your house and facing your mum. Axe or not.”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what she would have done had this all been some sort of ruse to get her up here just for sex. When she’d seen the vampire at the club, and the dejected mood he was in, her feelings for him had surged. Call them what you will--maternal, sympathetic, compassion--she’d wanted to do anything in her power to make him better.

Pulling her shirt on, she shivered. She hadn’t really been ready for this kind of weather, not knowing that they’d end up hours from Sunnydale. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she looked around. “You wouldn’t happen to have any extra clothing, would you? Something that’s warmer than this?”

She wasn’t going to press the issue any further, Spike realized. He really didn’t have the energy to get into a fight--well, not mentally, anyway--and he appreciated her understanding. “There should be a couple of sweaters in the same set of drawers that had the sheets. And before you ask, yes--Dru did wear them. She was always so cold...” Before his emotions could get the best of him, the vampire stood up and walked to the kitchenette area. “I’ll take a look and see what kind of food they left us...”

Buffy knew better than to say anything about Dru; it wasn’t really the right time to complain about vampire cooties and anyway--she was really cold and didn’t rightly care who the hell had worn the damn things. She noticed the change in Spike’s demeanour at the mention of his recent ex and figured that she would have to talk to him before long.

But for now, her main objective was to find a sweater that wouldn’t make her look like Laura Ingalls...

***

Having found herself a nice dark blue cable-knit sweater--God, this thing is warm--Buffy walked over to the kitchenette to see what Spike had found. There was no saying what kind of freaks a vampire would hire as caretakers--she so didn’t want to end up eating spam omelettes for breakfast.

Spike looked up from the stove, where he had a cast-iron frying pan heating up. Hopefully he’d be able to pull off cooking an edible breakfast. He’d already had his blood, but was sure that the smell of some warm human food would make him hungry all over again. Nodding towards the armoire, he spoke up. “Dishes and whatnot are in there, if you don’t mind setting the table. You’ll want to grab the syrup, too.” He scrunched his brow as his gaze scanned the shelves. “Don’t think we have butter, though...”

Buffy shrugged. “That’s ok. You cook, I eat--I’m not about to complain about a lack of condiments.” She set about gathering the dishes and the cutlery and set two places at the small table. Since her task only took about two minutes, the Slayer allowed herself to sit down and watch the vampire at work.

It was funny, really--she had to bite back giggles at the sight he made. The object of her amusement was barefoot, shirt still unbuttoned, shock of almost-white hair sticking straight up--and he was cooking French toast. He really, truly had to feel comfortable around her to let her see him so... un-Big-Bad-like. Ok, so it’s not a real word, but it suits him right now. She really wished he hadn’t put the shirt on--she could only imagine the play of his muscles as he lifted the heavy pan.

Buffy was lost in a dream-like state, visions of a shirtless Spike dancing before her eyes, when a plate was placed in front of her. She shook her head and found herself looking into the vampire’s amused gaze. Blushing, she twisted the top off the syrup. “Fine. So you caught me staring--can’t blame me, can you?”

Spike bit back the smart retort that had almost spilled from his lips. It was more than enough that she was admitting to admiring his body. Hey, even sexy vampires need a bit of an ego boost... “So, they edible?” He took the syrup from the Slayer and began to pour a copious amount onto his own plate.

The young woman arched an eyebrow, watching the gallons of sweet stuff pour onto the vampire’s plate. “Doesn’t much matter, does it? It’s not like you’re going to actually be able to taste them, with all that syrup.”

“Hey! This is real maple syrup--don’t get to indulge in this stuff often enough...”

“I’m just teasing, Spike. They’re actually really good...” She was surprised. She’d hardly expected them to be properly cooked, never mind actually edible. “Oh... yum, even.” Looking up from her plate, she asked around a mouthful “how did you make these so light?”

“Uh... well... Actually, I’ve never made them before. I just followed the recipe that Mrs. Crawford left me.” The vampire took another bite, wishing he’d doubled the recipe. He knew he could have eaten a few more and by the way the Slayer was packing them away he figured the same went for her.

Pointing her fork at him--and dripping syrup on the table in the process--Buffy couldn’t help but laud him. “Well, Mr. First Time, I know who I’m bringing along when I leave home.”

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow and responded in a warm voice. “I’d hope you’d bring me with you for more than my culinary talents, pet.” Smiling as his breakfast companion rolled her eyes, the bleached blonde reached over and wiped some syrup from the corner of her mouth. Licking the gooey substance from his fingertip, he gave her a ’what?!’ look. “Well, can’t let any of this go to waste, can we?”

“Whatever.” Buffy got up and stretched. “So, what’s there to do around here, anyway? You got a Game Cube stashed away or something?”

Now it was the vampire’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, but there isn’t any electricity in this cabin, hence no video games. Once you finish washing the dishes, we can go out for a walk.” He turned towards the bathroom to wash up with the melted snow he’d brought in earlier.

“Are you insane?” Buffy took the dishes and put them in what she hoped was a wash basin--she wasn‘t going to argue about the dishes; after all, rules always were that if one cooked, the other cleaned. “How the hell are we going to go for a walk--in the daytime? Or have you forgotten, in the clean, crisp air, about your sun allergy?” She filled a kettle with water and rummaged around the kitchen, in search of some dish soap.

“That’s the point, Slayer. Sun allergy. Not much of that right now, if you look outside.” He could only hope that the weather would remain as such, or he may just have to swallow his words--before burning to a crisp.

Buffy looked out the window. Sure enough, the sky was heavily overcast--it was even snowing a little. She was surprised that he could go out in daytime at all, but hey--who would know more than the vampire himself? “Ok, but if it looks like it’s going to clear up we’re heading back.”

Cleaned up as much as was possible, Spike sat himself at the table. A deck of cards in hand, he began to deal himself a game of solitaire. “Fine by me, luv. I don’t plan on getting crispy any time soon.”

***

“Are you sure we’re not lost?” Buffy cast a nervous glance around her--they were surrounded by trees, and the falling snow was beginning to cover their tracks. White cabin aside, she’d never had much experience roughing it.

Fists clenching at his sides, the vampire bit back a growl. “You ask me that one more time, I’ll make sure you never see that cabin ever again, Slayer.” He’d stopped in his tracks, trying to rein in his temper. “How would you put it? Oh, yeah: ‘Hello, vampire!’ or some such rot... I’ve got heightened senses, and the fact that we’ve pretty much travelled in a straight line helps!”

The young woman mumbled an apology before resuming the leisurely pace they had set. She was surprised when she felt Spike take her hand in hers. This was way too girlfriend/boyfriend, but hey--they were out in the middle of nowhere. It had the dual bonus of feeling nice and not being noticeable to anyone she might know.

The next while was spent in silence as both vampire and Slayer took in the serenity of their surroundings. A much different pace to what they were both accustomed, even if Sunnydale wasn’t exactly the most bustling metropolis of California. Spike had been brought up in London and had spent most of his time in the larger cities of Europe and the US--well, except for that short trip to Bethel, New York in 1969--and Buffy had lived in LA before moving to the Hellmouth. Walks in the wilderness weren’t exactly the norm for either of them.

Suddenly, Spike stopped in his tracks, holding Buffy still next to him. He put his index finger to her lips, quietly instructing her to remain quiet. His demon had heard the rabbit’s rapid heartbeat long before his eyes had set upon its shape. Pointing to an area about twenty yards ahead of them, he singled it out for the Slayer to see.

He had no idea why he’d even bothered. What the heck kind of poncey act was it to be gawking at fuzzy rabbits with the Slayer, anyway? But as he watched her face light up, her hazel eyes grow large, her mouth stretch taut with a wide grin, he cast aside any doubts. Wanker, he chastened without much conviction. Love’s bitch all the way...

The rabbit turned around to watch them as intently and as still as his observers, before shooting off to the left out of their sight.

Still caught up in the moment--the last fuzzy creature she’d seen in Sunnydale had been a Gar’oth demon--Buffy stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on Spike’s cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Spike began to worry as the snow began to fall harder. The tiny specs of snow had changed to large, fluffy Christmas flakes, clinging to the two blondes’ lashes and clothing. “You ok to keep goin’, pet, or are you getting cold?” Spike had to force himself to remember that his companion was human, thus more susceptible to the elements. He pulled her in closer to him, draping his arm around her.

“I’m still good. This sweater is really warm, anyway. No wonder Dru brought it here...” The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. Of course, they had come out here to talk things over, but it didn’t change the fact that Spike still flinched at the mention of his sire’s name. The best she could come up with was an awkward “sorry.”

It wasn’t her fault, really it wasn’t. It wasn’t as if the memory of Dru would be erased from all their memories just because he willed it. And anyway, by losing his sire he‘d gained more freedom to be with the Slayer. Which, in his books, was becoming more and more of a win-win situation for him. “S’alright, luv.”

Buffy watched him walk away, but she remained rooted on the spot. They had come to this retreat of sorts to get certain issues out of their systems. Now, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by the placating silence of nature, might just be the perfect time to get things off their chests, so to speak. “Spike?”

“Yeah?” The vampire turned around to see that the Slayer hadn’t moved.

“Do you want to, maybe, talk about it?” There. The offer was open; now it was up to him to act on it.

At that moment, the vampire had an epiphany concerning himself, Dru and the Slayer. “Actually, there’s nothing to talk about.”

Great. Now she was going to have to get all Sigmund Freud on Spike. Stupid avoidy vampire. “Look, Spike--I know it’s not something you want to discuss, but that’s kinda the reason you brought us here.”

The bleach blonde shook his head, turning his gaze from the vast expanse of the forest back to Buffy. “I’m tellin’ the truth, pet. Being here, with you, I’ve figured it out.”

“Oh? And what is it that you‘ve figured out?” Buffy felt her stomach sink. If he said he was going after Dru, she was sure she‘d sit down and have a good cry.

“That I’d be kidding myself if I said that I cared more about Dru than I do for you.” There. It was out in the open, a realization for him and a revelation to her. Spike was entering a new phase in his unlife. Of course, the pig’s blood in the DeSoto’s trunk confirmed at least that much.

The vampire held his breath. How would the Slayer take his declaration? Would she swoon, or laugh at him?

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat at Spike’s words. He cared for her. More than he did for Dru. Had he not been looking straight at her, his clear blue eyes unwavering, she would have thought that he was teasing her. Cruel, it would have been.

But it wasn’t a lie. How was she supposed to react? Hell, what were her own feelings towards the vampire? The answer came easily. Angel’s leaving had caused her only minimal worry, but the thought of losing Spike made her stomach turn.

Buffy had feelings for Spike. Deep feelings.

The young woman mulled the idea around in her mind much in the same way that a wine taster might swish a sip of pinot noir in his mouth. Yup. Sounded good to her. “So,” she asked, “where do we go from here?”

Spike let out the breath he’d been holding. There was a ‘we’ after all. “Don’t know, luv. Figure we can play it by ear.”

The young woman paused, then smiled up at the vampire. “You know, that sounds good to me.” She looked around them and noticed that the wind had picked up and the snowfall was even heavier. “But how about we head for the cabin before even your vampire senses can’t get us back?”

***

They’d spent the remainder of the afternoon alternating between cards and a crossword book that had been left behind by the caretakers. Now, after a dinner of canned baked beans and Kraft Dinner, they had let the fire die down and retired to their bedroom, which was lit by the flame of a sole candle.

Perched on the edge of their bed, Spike patted the space beside him. “C’mere, love.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I want to watch you.” The words came out as a whisper.

Ok, now he was confused. “Watch me what, luv? Watch me undress?” As much as the thought of undressing for the Slayer turned him on, the act itself wasn’t new. Wasn’t something she should be coy about.

Deep breath, Buffy, or you’ll never get this out. “I want to watch you... touch yourself.” There. Out in the open. Hopefully, he’d get her meaning and she wouldn’t have to pull out a sketch pad and draw it out for him.

If it wasn’t for her increased heartbeat, her flushed cheeks and the smell of her arousal, the vampire wouldn’t believe for a minute that she meant... But she had to. And the thought of performing something so personal for her viewing had him harder than he could ever imagine. He bit back a dozen smart remarks--if he didn’t go about this the right way, she’d retract her request and brush it off as a misunderstanding.

His voice hoarse with desire, he managed to whisper “whatever you wish, luv” before lifting himself off the bed to undress.

His eyes never left her as he undid the buttons that ran down the front of his shirt. One by one, Buffy watched them pull apart, revealing to her heated gaze the alabaster length of his chest, awash in shades of gold and red cast by the candle‘s flame. Of its own will, her own finger made its way to her mouth, slipping in and then out, tracing the swollen flesh of her lips.

He wouldn’t last. Nope. For the first time ever, Spike was sure that he’d come in his pants. Not even Dru had ever excited him like his Slayer did at that moment, lost unto a world of her own, eyes hazy with lust, finger tracing paths where his tongue should in all rights be. He managed to pull his pants off before settling across from her, back leaned against the bed’s headboard. He had no scruples when it came to his body--quite the contrary, he knew he looked good and was vain enough to flaunt it.

Stretching one leg out and keeping one bent to prevent his slipping down the sheets, his voice broke the silence. “You gonna undress too? It’s much more fun if the temptation is stronger, pet.”

She wanted to say no, she wanted him to be at a distinct disadvantage, to know how she felt whenever she was near him. Even if they were both dressed, he had a way of making her feel vulnerable, of giving himself the upper hand. But she couldn’t refuse him. She knew he didn’t have a thrall per se, but those bedroom eyes, half-lidded with want, and the need in his voice easily broke down all her barriers.

But she still wasn’t completely at a loss... Nodding, she replied, “only if you start.”

His eyes never left hers as his hand moved to his cock, swollen with borrowed blood. Tracing his thumb over the head, he gathered enough lubrication to begin sliding his hand up and down its length. He watched as she pulled her top over her head before seeming to hesitate. She wasn’t going to bow out on him now, was she?

When she slowed down, Buffy saw the flash of disappointment pass through her lover’s blue eyes. Did he really think she would be so callous as to stop? Really, he must know by now how insane he drives her... Pulling herself into a kneeling position, she sat back on her feet. She offered him a shy smile, letting him know that she was in no way reneging on their deal.

His breath hitched when the Slayer reached to unclasp her bra. Her eyes never wavering from his, she seductively peeled the garment from her body, slowly slipping it off one arm, then the next. The thing that undid his resolve to take is slowly, though, was when she began to play with her breasts. Head bent back, one hand on the footboard holding herself steady, one hand pulling at her erect nipple, she seemed oblivious to the effect she had on him; heck, she seemed oblivious to his presence.

The vampire’s up and down motion quickened and lost its steady pace as he watched his Slayer touch herself. At some point, this had turned out to be a two-person game; one which he wasn’t loathe to lose. Not when the prize was across from him, working her pants’ zipper down, the smell of her arousal thick to his demon’s senses.

Buffy forced herself to open her eyes. After all, she was supposed to be watching him, teaching him a lesson on how it felt to be at a disadvantage. And when her eyes rested on his quivering form, blue eyes turned black, breathing erratic, muscles (more than one!) twitching, she knew that she’d been playing the game just right. How could she not have figured out that staying just out of his reach, doing things to herself that he was used to doing, would turn him to jelly? Slipping out of her pants, she kept her panties on. She smiled like a vixen as she slipped her hand beneath the cotton fabric, knowing that the imagination always fuelled desire that much more than actually seeing.

“Christ, pet...” Spike knew he couldn’t last any longer. He felt the burning sensation in his groin and let his head fall back as he pumped his release out.

The young woman couldn’t take her eyes off of the vampire’s cock as string after string of cum shot out of it onto his belly and hands. She’d never actually watched a man ejaculate before, not this closely. It was the most erotic sight her eyes had ever beheld.

As his orgasm abated, Spike was finally able to lift his head back up and watch the Slayer. He was keen on seeing her reaction. He watched her pull her hand from her knickers--from the rate of her heartbeat, it was obvious she still hadn’t found her own release--and move towards him. Curiosity rendering him immobile, he just sat there, still covered in his own ejaculate, and watched her approach him. She held out her fingers to him, tracing them along his lips until he took them in his mouth, licking her juices off them. At this rate, he thought to himself, he wouldn’t have any trouble getting hard again in about... oh, now.

Buffy looked down and saw that the vampire’s erection was returning. Smiling devilishly, she said “that’s my vampire” before taking his left hand in hers and bringing it up to her mouth.

The sight of the Slayer meticulously licking his hands, thighs and, well, everywhere else, clean had him as hard as he had been before. He could easily have used the bedsheets to clean himself off--it wasn’t as if they had no other option--but the thought that she wanted to minister to him did more than make him hard. It warmed somewhere deep inside of him--added fuel to a spark that had laid dormant for over a century.

But he was being selfish, now, wasn’t he? Being on the receiving end of such wonderful naughtiness, and the Slayer still squirming around waiting for her own release. Gonna have to fix that, mate--show her that you can give as well as you can receive.

Spike’s moans of pleasure as she licked him clean nearly drove Buffy to her own release. God, he tasted good. Never in a million years would she have imagined herself so eagerly ingesting semen. But then again, never had she seen herself having sex with Spike. The demon in him called out to her Slayer, leading her to do things that would definitely have been out of character for Buffythegirl. She felt his hands slide down her back as she leaned in to swirl her tongue in his navel. Long cool fingers played along the edge of her panties before pushing underneath their cotton fabric, moving down to knead the soft flesh of her rear.

When the Slayer took his hardened cock in her mouth, the bleached vampire could hold out no longer. As much fun as it was to be catered to, he felt like he was missing out on half the fun. Placing his hands on her head, he stopped her motions. “Buffy luv, stop for a sec...”

The young woman sat back on her knees, eyebrows bunched in curiosity. Since when did Spike turn down oral sex? She watched him slide further down onto the bed, into a lying position. On an attempt to move over to give him some space, she found herself held in place.

“No, pet. Don’t move away.” He placed a hand on her hip and tugged lightly. “Turn around, facing away from me.”

Although she had no clear idea of what the vampire was trying to achieve, she did as he instructed. Turning around and facing the other bed, she wondered what the heck this was going to accomplish.

That was until he began to pull her back towards him.

Spike inhaled deeply as her quim floated just a few inches above his nose. He found it strange that after everything they’d done in between the sheets, this wasn’t one of them. Tilting his head up and dragging his tongue along her wet cleft, he sighed. Yup. This was what he’d been missing. When he noticed that the Slayer remained immobile above him, obviously unsure of what to do next, he very gently nudged her back down towards his hard-on. In a calm, patient voice, he simply instructed her to proceed as she’d been doing before he stopped her.

Buffy’s body shivered at the dual sensation of Spike’s tongue in her pussy and his cock in her mouth. The act itself was so intimate to her--both man and woman giving and receiving at once, both deriving pleasure from an act that seemed so selfless. It was a good thing that the vampire had a good hold on her hips, because she wasn’t sure if she could rely on her thigh muscles to keep her upright.

As much as she was turned on--God, the things that man could do with his tongue, Buffy’s need to feel him inside of her was greater. In a swift move, she pivoted and placed herself mirror-image above her lover. Her lips descended upon his at the same time as her pussy swallowed his cock. She could taste herself on his lips and his tongue, and the pungent tang of her juices only increased her excitement as she slid up and down his hard shaft.

“Cor, pet. You’re gonna burn me...” Spike could hardly keep up with the whirlwind above him. His hands were everywhere at once--massaging her breasts, rolling her nipples, following the soft curves of her hips and ass... He held her tightly to him as he felt her stiffen and her inner muscles clamp down on him. When her lips broke away from his, only to take in a silent gasp, he let himself follow her over the precipice. Endurance be damned, he’d rather be in the moment. Not for the first time since he’d paired up with the Slayer, Spike felt the inner stirrings of William try to push through. He knew he was pussy-whipped when he fought the feelings less and less.

Rolling onto her side, Buffy let out a deep breath. “Wow. That was... different.” Her eyes twinkled as she looked over at the equally out-of-breath vampire. “Any more of those little surprises up your sleeve?”

“Got a century’s worth to share, luv. We’ve still got lots to go over.” He paused, waiting to catch his breath. “But maybe in a while, though.”

Both blondes couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that. They were both knackered and weren’t so proud that they couldn’t admit it. After all, it had to be a really good shag to wear out a vampire and Slayer...

***

Morning saw the two lovers preparing to leave the cabin. They didn’t have the option of waiting until nightfall because of Buffy’s promise to help her mom with the Christmas dinner preparations. As much as they would have liked to stay there for another day, they knew they had to get moving.

Standing outside the cabin, snow falling delicately around them, they took a moment to stand silently in each other’s presence. In less than two months they had gone from bitter enemies to lovers. It was more than that, though, and they both realized that. People who were simply lovers wouldn’t change the way they think and act for one another; they wouldn’t be satisfied with just being in each other’s presence.

It was more than the sex and that was much, much more than either Spike or Buffy had bargained for that night in the cave, what seemed like so long ago.

“Well, pet--time to head out if we want to get you home to your mum on time.” The vampire opened the passenger door for the Slayer, proper Victorian manners shining through his tough outer appearance. Before Buffy had time to sit down, though, he stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. “Look, Buffy. If I haven’t said so yet, thanks.”

She nodded, not needing to ask him why he had thanked her. This weekend had been about leaving their pasts behind them, about starting anew. And although they were both eager, they were more afraid than they’d admit. There were so many obstacles--his reputation, her friends--that would test their mettle.

But for Buffy, it was a change she was eager to embrace.

“So. What’re you doing tomorrow? Cause if Mom’s gonna give in to her usual habits, she’s going to cook enough for an army...”

Author’s Note: Please excuse the fact that I’ve taken a liberty with vampire lore in my allowing Spike a daytime walk. The scene was embedded in my brain from the beginning, and I just couldn’t part with it.