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“Blaaah!…” Spike suppressed a chuckle following Buffy’s obnoxious, but surprising cute after drink noise. She raised her shot glass up for another refill from his flask. While he poured, she slightly slurred his name.
“Yeah?” Following his monosyllabic response, Spike waited for her to continue. After several moments of complete silence, Buffy muttered a single confused reply.
Shaking his head slightly and surpressing a snicker, Spike reminded her of her earlier words. “You said Spike.”
“Oh, yeah…” Spike raised his scarred brow encouraging her to continue silently. After several beats, once her saturated mind finally processed his nonverbal hint, she continued, “Right, do you wanna play a game?”
“Slayer, besides that question reminding me of WarGames’ creepy computer, color me strangly interested.”
Hearing his words, Buffy’s impassive features shifted into a look of pure confusion. Noticing this, Spike shook his head, and decided to elaborate. “You know, cheesy 80’s movie…Matthew Brodrick…a computer game goin’ all wonky?” Despite his hints, Buffy’s face appeared more, instead of less, confused. “Never mind, Slayer, way over ya head.”
Noticing how cute she looked: brow furrowed, eyes wide and glazed, glossy lips pursed--Spike’s mind moved from bad 80's movies, to sex in two seconds flat. Prior to his next question, Spike’s leer turned predatory as he purred his words. “What kind of game, Slayer?” Unfortunately for him or fortunately for his nose, which would have surely been punched, his suggestive actions and words had gone unnoticed by the drunken woman.
“Huh, didn’t understand half of whatcha just said, anyway it would be a drinking game…silly! Wait, maybe we shouldn’t, I think you’ve had wayyyy too much to drink.”
“Or not enough,” Spike muttered into his shot glass.
“Nothing, what kind of game you're thinkin’ Slayer?”
“I don’t know, haven’t gotten that far yet.” Following her words, Buffy’s bottom lip pursed slightly.
Eyeing her pout, Spike’s mind flashed to the day when Red’s To Have my Will Done spell played havoc on Buffy, the unsuspected Scooby’s, and him. The day when Buffy’s hands were tender, not harsh on his body. When her firm ass covered his lap while the same pouty lip almost caused him to come undone right in the Watcher’s chair. His own words from that day began echoing within his mind. “Oh, pouty! Look at that lip...gonna get it...gonna get it…” Spike unconsciously licked his lips, remembering the sweetness that remained the days following her delectable kisses.
The combination of the memories from that day, the swirl of her unique essence hanging heavy in the air, and her close proximity now, caused his rapidly growing erection to scrape painfully across the metal teeth of his zipper. The overwhelming urge to lunge across the sarcophagus to claim her as his was strong, yet Spike knew he could never act upon these desires. Instead, his mind concocted something that he hoped would take the edge off, or at the very least give him some more thoughts for his spank bank.
“Slayer, how about we play ‘It starts with’?”
Buffy’s brow furrowed, before she questioned, “How’d ya play that?”
“Well, each of us has to come up with a word that starts with each letter of the alphabet. If you can’t think of one, you have to take a shot.”
“There’s a catch, each word has to be sexual in nature.” Spike’s lips formed a large Cheshire-cat grin, causing Buffy’s eyes to widen.
“Oh, Slayer, don’t play all blushing virgin on me, we’re both adults…”
“Yeah, some of us are fivedruple the age of others here, dirty ol’ man!”
“Fine, I’m a dirty ol’vamp, but you said you wanted to play a drinking game.”
Sighing, Buffy decided she had nothing better to do. “Alright…shoot.”
“Well, ladies first…'A'”
“Um, that’s easy, asshole,"” Buffy answered, giving Spike a poignant look.
“Whazz a bullocks anyway?” Buffy inquired, her face scrunched in confusion.
“Bollocks, with an‘o’, are testicles. Bullocks, with‘u’, mean a young male cow or could mean bullshit, either one.”
“Ohhhh…’C’ right?” Following his nod, Buffy blurted out, “Cock!” Her eyes widened instantly as her word echoed throughout the crypt. In an instant, she buried her face in her hands. Spike chuckled from her cute display of shyness. He finally proceeded, after he heard her hand-muffled. “Your turn.”
Buffy’s hands instantly fell from her face, her tone briefly held her typical Slayer brashness. “Don’t you dare say that word! It may be…but it’s rude and--"
“I was going to say cunny, Slayer. Not as crass as the word you’re thinking of, but it means the same thing.” Buffy’s gaze narrowed, when she bit out her ‘D’ word.
“Douche,” Spike retorted with equal snarky-ness.
“It’s another word for fu— you know.” Spike gave a purposeful confused look, in an attempt to force her to say the word. Buffy gave Spike “’the look’” trying to get him to acknowledge what she meant. Still pretending to be oblivious, Buffy snapped, “Fine, fucking…I said it, happy now? And, by the way, you need to drink since you were stumped on E, and I gave my F!”
“What! I wasn’t stumped and you didn’t wait for your turn!”
Buffy looked around the room, and called out to the emptiness. “Judges? Sorryyyy, they say you need to drink.”
Spike mumbled under his breath, pouring whisky from the flask into the shot glass. With a small toast, he downed the firewater in one gulp. Placing the cup down upon the sarcophagus, he gave his ‘F’ word with a tediously slow purr.
Buffy gulped slightly, prior to uttering her next word.
“Drink!” Spike declared with utter amusement.
“Nads begin with a ‘N’ not a ‘G’.”
“I meant gonads…gonads, with a ‘G’!”
“That’s not what you said.” Spike sing-songed his response, then mimicking her earlier actions, he called out to the room. “Judges? Nope, declined. Drink, Slayer!”
Begrudgingly, Buffy held out her glass, Spike filled it with the amber liquid. She downed it, her customary “Blaaah!” soon followed.
“Gaping axe wound.”
“Means vagina, and no, that cannot be your ‘V’word, it’s already been used,” Spike clarified.
“Not fair that you use all these Britishy sex words!”
“Whatever, Slayer, never heard of Effning, and you were given credit.”
“It was effigying and that’s just slang. Yours is another language entirely.”
“Right, because we’re not speaking English at this moment.”
“It’s different, mine is real English, yours is British English.”
“Ah…huh. I’m not going to get into a debate with a drunken Slayer about etymology. Move on… ‘H’.”
“Yes, I do have a fine hard-on, thanks for asking.” With his words, Spike’s dark brows wiggled as his tongue rolled and pushed against the back of his teeth.
Buffy gulped, as she willed her gaze not to drop toward his previous reference. Attempting to appear unaffected, she snapped, “Whatever, bleach boy, ‘H’.”
“Let me guess, another word—“
“Yup, one of my favorite subjects, the vagina.”
“How the hell do you know about that position, Slayer?”
“I’m not telling,” Buffy sang, a big knowing grin gracing her lips.
Completely gob smacked, Spike just drank without even trying to sort through his mind for an ‘I’ word.
Spike’s head tilted slightly, his brow furrowed with slight confusion. “What’s that?”
“Exercises for your favor subject.”
Buffy gave him a “‘Really? You got to be kidding me expression’”, before Spike responded to her silent jab.
“I know there are those exercises, like the Italian hanger and the like. Just didn’t know there were solo exercises. Huh, you learn something new everyday.”
“Yeah, now ‘K’, Spike.”
“Lickmesplit,” Buffy retorted instantly, becoming braver with her responses.
“Little man in a boat.”
“You got really excited about that one, Slayer, been awhile?”
“You have no idea…” Buffy whispered while she looked anywhere but Spike’s gaze. Upon her declaration Spike added a small mental note. “Offer to remedy that problem A.S.A.P.” Without missing a beat, Spike responded with his ‘O’.
“One-eyed trouser snake.”
Knowing that she couldn't think of a 'Q' word, Buffy lifted her glass for a refill. Once poured, she downed and announced her customary displeasure for the amber liquor.
Once the echo from her displeasure vanished, Spike purred his ‘Q’ word. “Quim.” The word fell from Spike’s lips as if it was a treasure lover he was releasing into the air. Buffy gulped around the lump that had formed in her throat. She stared at Spike for several moments before she noticed his lips had move, yet she hadn’t heard him speak.
“ ‘R’, luv.”
Trying to appear unaffected by her earlier dazed moment, she tried to give her next word with conviction. “Shaft.”
“Spunk.” Buffy’s face scrunched from Spike’s ‘S’, before she gave her ‘T’.
“Tea towel holder.”
“Huh? What the hell is that?”
Spike’s chuckled with an accompanied knowing look. Before he could answer Buffy spoke, “You know what, so don’t wanna know.”
“That’s not a word, Slayer, drink!”
“That is so a word! That’s when someone is wearing the wrong bra, and her boobs make one big one, instead of two.”
Spike’s eyes traveled to Buffy’s chest. She looked down following his line of vision, and then back up at him; all the while his blatant stare remained fixated on her chest.
“Up here bleached-boy!” Buffy authoritative tone caused Spike’s gaze to leave her chest instantly and return to meet hers. “Mine are two small to have that uni effect,” Buffy grumbled.
“I think your breasts are perfect. Two glorious handfuls, nothin’ wasted.”
Spike’s deep, lithe voice set her body ablaze. Their gazes remained locked, until Buffy’s whispered letter broke through the visual stalemate.
“ ‘U’ “
Realizing, unfortunately, their brief moment was over Spike attempted to appear nonchalant with his next answer, “Undercarriage.”
“Why?” Buffy whined sounding like a petulant child.
“We established this word was already used, back at gaping axe wound…so drink.”
Grumbling in protest, Buffy held out her glass for Spike. A loud “Blaaah!” heralded the completion of her shot.
“Vertical bacon sandwich.”
“Oh gross, Spike!”
“What? It’s a ‘V’ word! ‘W’…”
“Ummm…” Buffy's eyes squinted, as her tipsy mind searched for a word.
With a heavy sigh, Buffy held out her hand for the flask. Spike complied, his scarred brow rose at her silent request as he handed it to her. Buffy placed the flask to her lips and emptied its contents, in three gulps. With several shakes of her head, and an elongated “Blaaah!” she announced loudly, “Thatz is my ‘W, X, Y, and um…Z, yeah Z.”
“Well, that took all the fun out of the end, Slayer. Since you’re done, let me finish. ‘W’, the easiest choice and my favorite, wank. ‘X’…” Spike ran his hands down his cotton-covered chest, hooking his thumbs into the waist of his denims; his velvety voice surrounded his words.
“‘X’ marks the spot.”
Buffy gulped, her eyes remained trained on the obvious and impressive bulge encased in the tight material. Unconsciously, she licked her now suddenly dry lips. Her gaze still trained on his ‘spot’, Buffy squeaked, “ ‘Y’?”
Spike’s purred voice echoed through Buffy’s hazy mind. Her thoughts flashed to two years prior, while she sat on said vamp’s lap. His deep baritone voice hovering on the shell of her ear as his deft hands traveled over her heated body. On the outskirts of her mind, she heard him speak. After several beats Buffy broke from her memories. Missing his words, she muttered a single word in confusion.
“Whatz that? Now, that sounds made up!”
“No, it’s not, it means penis in Arabic.”
“Oh, I still thinks you made it up, ‘pecially since ya had wayyyy too much to drink.”
“Is that so?” Spike chuckled.
“Yup, thatz why I did my duty as the Slayer to keep ya safe, from the bad, evil allllcohol!” Buffy declared, turning over the now empty flask.
Spike stood and conveniently pulled another full flask out of his inner jacket pocket. He shook it in the air, the amber fluid sloshing against the sides of the metal. Buffy’s grin widened, holding out her empty shot glass.
“This is gonna be great.”
Chapter End Notes:
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