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A Kick From Champagne
Part 4




Five minutes after she'd switched on the television, Buffy was ready to put her foot through it.

Hundred different channels...not one thing worth watching...

She didn't have a lot of time for watching these days, but it seemed as though television had become a vast and arid wasteland of stupid game shows that made a point of insulting the contestants, reality shows that had no basis in any reality she'd ever heard of, and sitcoms so painfully un-funny that even the canned laughter was weak.

"Networks," she grumbled. "Who's running 'em anyway? Demons trying to just bore us into uncon..un...to death and take over the world, I bet. Oughta go down an sssllaayyy every one of 'em."

The picture jumped from one station to the next as she applied kept her thumb on the channel select button.

"Not even a good movie on," she continued bitching. "Cable costs an arm and both legs...and they can't show one halfway decent...whoa! "

She stopped speed dialing channels when she came across a close up of a woman's face as her mouth traced a slow path down the front of a very nicely developed male chest.

"Here we go!" she said gleefully, settling deeper into the sofa cushions to see just how nasty this movie would turn out to be.

After a few minutes, it became clear that it was your plain old, everyday, soft core porn. The kind that had lots of naked women frolicking about, while the men were only shown naked from behind, or from the waist up.

Every time the action on screen got really intense, the camera zoomed in on faces contorted with either incredible pleasure or agonizing indigestion.

"This isn't fair," Buffy informed the television. "Hows come you only show the girly naughty parts? Didju forget about the other half of the poppy..popala..the REST of us?" she demanded. " S'crimination is what THAT is!"

She wasn't interested in looking at body parts she already owned.

Still, in spite of the lame dialogue, bad acting, and cheesy music, she was finding the movie more than a little...stimulating.

The sexual acrobatics were really impressive.

These people were getting into positions that looked highly uncomfortable and difficult to maintain, and they were doing it with an enthusiastic chorus of moaning and groaning, followed by outright squealing whenever one of them crossed their personal finish line.

"Hey, cute guy!" The man onscreen had short blond hair, a face that was very easy on the eyes and, if the expression on his partner's face was any indication, must be hung like a goddamn racehorse.

The women currently riding this stud had medium blondish hair hanging halfway to her waist, and was endowed to a degree that made Buffy feel completely inadequate.

This babe was so top heavy that she had to keep her hands cupped over her own breasts as she bounced up and down...no doubt to keep from blackening both her eyes.

As the scene went on, the actors changed positions so many times that Buffy lost track of who was doing what to who.

At one point, the man rolled over and assumed the position favored by missionaries all over the world. He kept his face hidden against the side of the woman's neck, and all Buffy could see of him was the back of his blonde head and his wildly copulating ass.

Watching the performance go through its paces, she began to notice that the man and woman onscreen had a familiar look about them.

The guy sort of looked like...well, if she squinted real hard...Spike. The woman, as long as she kept her back to the camera, could have passed for herself.

"Holy cow!" What a visual!

She couldn't get it out of her head.

The harder she tried to follow the action onscreen, the further her mind wandered, until she was off in deep left field, picking daisies.

Her imagination took off at full throttle, working hard to present her with her own private little movie, playing in her own dirty little mind.

Deciding that she couldn't give her undivided attention to both things at once, she abandoned the televised porn in favor of the porn in her head.

Closing her eyes, she saw herself and the vampire she was falling in love with, lying together in a monstrous four poster bed, the kind with all the trimmings, like a swooping canopy, and silk sheets, and soft feather...

"WHAT?!" Her eyes flew open as she shot up into a sitting position.

Falling in love with? FALLING IN LOVE WITH?!

Her head was spinning like a roulette wheel, forcing her to lie down again.

Oh, no...no you don't...there is no falling being done! I can't play the Vampire Dating Game again...it's too damn much work...

But no matter how hard she tried, how firmly she denied them access, how brutally she beat them up, the images in her brain wouldn't go away and leave her alone. They just kept creeping in when she was unprepared for them.

Sneaky images..

"Oh, geez," she groaned. "I don't need this. I swear to God, I do NOT need THIS."

She rubbed her eyes with her clenched fists.

"I've gotta find a regular guy. There must be some out there...I only need one."

Maybe, if she hung a sign in the window: Wanted...regular, normal, everyday sort of guy for fun and frequent sexual encounters. No supernatural beings need apply...especially vampires. Inquire within...

Who am I kidding? Regular guys don't work for me either...

She didn't have the time or the inclination to deal with all the emotional baggage that came along with a 'regular' guy, and the regular guys out there sure as hell couldn't handle her own set of luggage.

Spike's not regular...

"Yeah...no kidding."

Spike was a lot of things. Smart mouthed, brash, usually lacking in common sense, and hot tempered.

But, he was funny and insightful, with a depth of intelligence that he didn't often get credited for.

He was also as loyal as an old dog to the people he cared about, and Buffy knew that her name, and Dawn's, were at the top of that particular list.

And he was honest and upfront with his feelings and his opinions, whether you wanted him to be or not.

Like it or lump it, Spike didn't bullshit you or tell you what you wanted to hear. His philosophy was rooted in the "tell it like it really is, bloody well deal with it, and get on with your fucking life!" school of thought.

And, of course, he was amazingly good looking, very well built, and sexy down to the marrow of his bones. A big, BIG plus for any guy!

Yes, Spike was all these things and more, but he was in no way regular, common, ordinary, garden variety, or run of the mill.

"Oh, all RIGHT" she whined. "Think about him that way..drive yourself nuts. Juss don't come crying to me when you end up in the nuthouse!"

As though it had been peeking around the corner, waiting for the opportunity, that big, beautiful bed reappeared in her mind.

Only problem was....she seemed to be alone in it.

"What the hell?"

Off to one side of her mind picture, a door opened and her dream guy stepped into the scene.

"Thass more like it!"

Dream-Spike approached the bed like a big old jungle cat padding towards a trapped bunny rabbit. He reached out with one hand and whipped the satin comforter right off of Dream-Buffy.

Oooh...he's rough...that can be fun...

Dream-Buffy sat up and held out her arms. With a toe curling growl, Dream-Spike leapt onto the bed and reached for the hem of a white satin and lace nightgown that Dream-Buffy was conveniently wearing, even though RealBuffy didn't own anything even remotely like it.

The gown came up and off, and DreamSpike began to kiss and fondle and caress every inch of Dream-Buffy's naked, panting body, whispering in her ear, telling her all the things a girl liked to hear at a moment like this.

"You're so beautiful, luv...so soft and warm. I want you...I've wanted you from the second I saw you..forgot every other girl in the world but you."

Now, THIS is the way to make a sexy movie...pay attention Hollywood..

Dream-Spike rose to his knees, bringing Dream-Buffy along with him, and she began to help him shed clothing that came off with surprising ease. It seemed to melt away beneath her touch, with no buttons, snaps, zippers, laces, or velcro to fumble around with.

Dream-Buffy, who was a LOT more uninhibited than her real life counterpart, began to explore Dream-Spike's body, her fingers gliding over hard muscle and smooth skin.

Dream-Spike was no slouch either. He returned her touches enthusiastically, caressing and kissing the most private places of Dream-Buffy's body, his tongue lingering on her breasts and between her thighs.

God...he knows what I like. How the hell does he know that? I've certainly never told him what I like to do in..

"Oh, for God's sake! Who CARES how he knows?" Dream-Buffy said irritably. "He just KNOWS! Now shut up and quit distracting him!"

Sorry...

Dream-Spike moved to lie on top of DreamBuffy. He positions himself and begins to thrust. She takes him all the way inside her, deep and hard. In and out. Slowly...then faster...harder...then faster still.

Their voices vibrate with their pleasure as they moan and cry out for more. She digs her nails into his shoulders, begging him not to stop...not to EVER stop...because it feels so good...so perfect...the way their bodies fit together so wonderfully, as though they'd been specially fashioned for each other...and anybody who came before was nothing but a cheap imitation.

He pounds in harder, burying his face in her hair, telling her that her scent makes his head spin, makes him wild with the sort of desire you can only feel with a true soul mate. He promises to never stop loving her, wanting her, fucking her.

His head comes up and he orders her to arch her back, to raise her breast to his mouth so he can taste it...suckle it. He tells her how warm it is, how sweet it tastes, how much he loves the feel of her nipple hardening in his mouth, beneath the lash of his tongue.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, guiding his mouth to her other breast, hissing in his ear to suck it harder because she feels the pull in her loins every time he does and it's so good and she wants more and more.

Suddenly, he pulls away from her. She wants to scream in protest, but he gives her no chance as he turns her over and pulls back on her hips until she's on her hands and knees.

He reaches down and reestablishes their connection, then begins to thrust, driving her back up that steep incline she'd almost crested moments ago.

Draping himself over her back, he rests his palms flat on the bed, nuzzling the back of her neck, asking her if she likes this, likes what he's doing now. With a snarky grin, he places his lips against her ear and releases a playful bark.

She smiles and rears back, returning the pressure. Balancing on one hand, she reaches down to play with herself, but he pushes her hand away, telling her that it's his job to do that, to make her come, that no one else is allowed to touch when he's down there.

His own fingers come around front of her and take over, finding her clit and rubbing it hard, squeezing it gently as his shaft invades and retreats, over and over, until she's screaming for him to finish, to do it, to make her come hard, the way no other lover ever had or ever will.

His hips begin pistoning in harder and faster, and he releases soft grunts every time he goes in all the way, the muscles of his ass working as he pumps into her, his sack impacting lightly against her own little bottom.

Orgasm hits them simultaneously, making them scream until their throats must surely be raw.

Her knees give out when he collapses on top of her, his own strength completely drained away. He holds his weight off her as best he can, by resting on his forearms. He covers the back of her neck with kisses and whispers "I love you..."

Dream-Buffy smiles. "I love you too. So much..."

Oh, my God! That was just...WAIT! NO! I don't ...no love...I DON'T love!..

Dream-Buffy sighs. "Oh, yes you do."

I do not! I don't want to love!

"Yeah...right."

I mean it! It's too much work. I ain't interested

"Ah, don't be daft, luv," Dream-Spike said, turning to look at her as though she was standing beside the bed. "Everyone wants to love and be loved. People...slayers..." He grinned. "Even a few vampires. It's the natural order of things."

"Love makes the world go round," Dream-Buffy interjected.

Dream-Spike nodded. "All you need is love."

Stop that!

"Love is a many splendourous thing," he added.

"Splendored," Dream-Buffy corrected.

He shook his head. "No such word."

Knock it off!

"Really?"

"Check the Websters, babe."

"Later."

Stop talking to each other like I'm not here...

Dream-Spike looked at her again. "Look, luv, point is...at the end of the day, love's the only thing worth fightin for. So, if you find it, you gotta grab on and hold tight to it, cause you might not ever find it again."

Dream-Buffy sighed. "That was beautiful."

He grinned. "Yeah. I read it in a Hallmark card at the grocery."

Okay, shut up! Both of you. I'm telling you I don't want to be in love!

"Then what DO you want, Pet?"

Sex. Meaningless, no strings attached, check your emotions at the door...sex.

Dream-Buffy snickered. "Liar."

"Please!" Dream-Spike added. "If THAT was true, I'd have been in your knickers a long time ago."

I BEG your pardon?

"Beg all you want, you know I'm right." He winked at her. "You been hot for me since day one, Slayer. Same way I've been for you."

Oh, no I...for me? Really?

"Uh-huh. The second I saw that cute little ass of yours bouncing around, I wanted my hands all over it."

But you tried to KILL me!

"Yeah, well...I'm a vampire. Doesn't mean I didn't want to nail your arse to the nearest available mattress."

"Okay, enough small talk," Dream-Buffy interrupted testily. "I want to get MY arse nailed to THIS mattress again." She pushed Dream-Spike over onto is back, then rolled on top of him, glancing at Buffy. "You can watch, if you want to."

Okay, YOU have been spending way too much time with Anya..





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