Willow and Oz chose seats on the left back side, so Buffy and Spike chose seats on the right. When they were going to be making with the naughty, they didn’t really want to be close to each other.
As soon as the previews began, though, Spike felt Buffy yank on his hand. He glanced over at her—she grinned widely and nodded towards the aisle.
He shook his head, not understanding, as she began to tug him into the aisle. Crazy bint must’ve never made out in a movie theater before, he thought. He probably should’ve been annoyed at her antics, but all he felt was satisfied that she’d never done the nasty in the theater with that ponce Angel.
But now she was pulling on him hard, and he really was starting to feel less than happy with her. Finally he got up and allowed her to lead him up the aisle and to the theater doors. Like most theaters, a short hallway led from the door to the lit-up aisles; she pulled him till they were just a few feet from the door, and thus in heavy darkness.
“Buffy,” he whispered, his voice a hiss in the smothering blackness, “What the hell are you doing? I thought you wanted to—“
“I got horny,” she informed him in a breathless little voice that had his already hardening length swelling against his zipper. “And then I thought, what are the chances of us ever being able to do anything other than kissing in the seats without getting caught?”
She had a good point, but…”Buffy, this is a foolish—“
He was cut off by her lips attacking his.
And it was definitely attacking. She was ten years younger than he and didn’t have near the experience he did, but God, that girl could kiss. She’d pushed him against the wall, her hands firm on his chest, her lips firm against his and her tongue demanding entrance.
He granted it and reciprocated, his tongue dancing with hers, pulling her inside his mouth and stroking her tongue with his own. Buffy moaned quietly, and when he turned them so that she was pressed against the wall, she didn’t object.
It was insane on more levels than Spike could count, but he savored every second they stood there, mouths locked together, risking discovery every second they remained. He’d thrown in the figurative towel the second they’d been caught a week ago, but he rather suspected that whispered rumors were a world apart from full-blown evidence that he and Buffy were together and getting physical on a regular basis. Keeping that in mind, Spike prepared himself to pull back from her soft warmth.
Then she did the bit where she wriggled her hips and moaned into his mouth, and he was lost in her again.
He was hard and ready to go, and even though he knew that there would be no going of that sort, he couldn’t help but slip a hand beneath that tiny purple top and feel the smooth skin beneath it.
Even her stomach was perfect—curved every so slightly, smooth, and soft as silk. It shuddered under his touch, making him smile into her lips as he thrust his hips towards hers, pinning her more firmly against the wall.
“You like that, kitten?” he asked, stroking her stomach in tandem with the strokes of his tongue. “My hands…all over you…” he slipped a hand behind her, squeezing her bottom; she gasped and, to his delight, thrust back at him.
“Please…” she whispered, the pleading sound lost almost as soon as it left her lips.
Spike allowed his hand to travel upward, nearly trembling with the desire to just cup her, knead her, until she was gasping and putty in his hands—but he curbed his desire, sliding around the underside of her breasts, up to her collarbone—pausing for a moment where he could feel her heart beat—and then going down again, until his fingers rested, ever so lightly, on her right breast.
In the theater, the yuks had started. The audience was laughing at the actors’ innocent, PG-13 rated antics. Somehow, knowing that innocent fun was being had just feet from them made the whole adventure that much better.
She shoved herself into him. “Touch me, Spike,” she ordered, her breathy voice strangely commanding. “I need you now.”
He kissed her again, his lips teasing. “Are you sure about that?” he asked with mock innocence, catching her already hard nipple in between two long fingers. “It’s dirty, you know…lettin’ me take advantage ‘f you in the movie theater…”
She growled. He almost laughed with delight when he heard it—and then shuddered in desire. Her hot little mouth with its straight white teeth and lush lips, going down on him…sliding over his dick, swallowing around him—
Shit.
He palmed her roughly now, rolling her nipple and grinding into her with a rhythm that had them both gasping.
“Dirty girl, aren’t you?” he gasped, still in a whisper. Her face was illuminated now, very softly, by the flickering light coming from the huge movie screen. She was smirking at him.
“I am dirty,” she told him, reaching down and brushing her fingers against his painful erection. Lightning shot through him—he moaned and closed his eyes, almost overcome by sensation.
“I’m very dirty,” she continued. Her other hand left his neck, where it had been tangled in the soft hair there, and traveled downward to his hand on her breast. Spike watched incredulously as she began to move her own fingers around his, tweaking her nipple, licking her finger and tracing it around the edge…
Christ. ‘f his dick jumped any more, they were going to have a problem.
She smiled at him kittenishly. “Look, Spike,” she said, her voice deceptively innocent, as she cupped her breast. “It’s all wet.”
Her nipple glimmered in the light. Jesus. Fuck. “Buffy, ‘f you wanna get screwed right up ‘gainst this wall, then keep going.”
Her eyes glimmered at him. “But you know what’s wetter than my nipple?” she asked, her voice at the barest whisper. “My cunt. It’s dripping, Spike.” Abruptly she removed her hand from his dick. He almost whimpered at the loss…until she slid a hand into her jeans.
He watched them move as she clearly inserted her fingers inside herself, then moved his gaze to her face. God, she was beautiful. Even in the midst of fooling around that was beyond illegal—and not just because it was in a public place—she was an angel, pure and clean.
When she removed her finger, however, it was not. It shone blue and sticky in the light from the screen.
“Wanna taste?” she asking girlishly, batting her eyelashes.
“God yes,” he growled, and grabbed the digit, sucking it into his mouth.
Ahh…his eyes rolled up. They’d done stuff like this in the past week, but nothing quite this intense. Tasting her was heaven. “Fuck, luv,” he whispered, the obscenity an endearment as it rolled off his tongue. “You’re so damn—“
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”
A few seconds later, if you’d asked Spike, he would have said that the whole levitation bit was a bunch of bullshit…right before he ripped your head off for interrupting the two of them. But when he heard Robin Wood, Principal of Sunnydale Elementary, speak behind him, he jumped about two feet in the air.
He hastily shoved Buffy’s shirt down and jumped away from her. Too late he realized that he had her juices still on his lips; he hurriedly wiped them away before opening his mouth to tell the principal to sod off and go teach some impressionable little kiddies.
“Uh—uh—y’see, mate—um….”
Sodding, buggering--! He was turning into William!
He’d pretty much given the whole thing up for lost and resigned himself to life in jail when he heard Buffy speak behind him. “Principal Wood! Hi! Are you looking for Faith?”
Wood’s eyes left Buffy’s top, which only covered about half her stomach and was just about as helter-skelter as it could be and still count as a shirt, and met her eyes. “Well, actually, I was just—“
“Faith told me all about you guys.” Spike watched in wonder as his girl linked her arm through his and batted her eyes at the suddenly nervous-looking principal. “You guys are really close, aren’t you?”
“Um…” He was black and the room was dark, but Spike could’ve sworn he actually saw Wood blushing.
The blonde smirked. “Best get a move on then, mate.”
“Right. I’ll just be—going now.” Wood turned around and hastily exited.
Spike and Buffy both let out breaths they hadn’t known they’d been holding. They’d survived getting caught a second time in a much less innocent position. Spike, for one, was ready to die from relief.
He couldn’t love his girl from prison, not properly.
Then their eyes met—and the tension in the mini-hall evaporated as they both burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support as tears ran down their eyes.
“Did you see the look on his face?” Buffy gasped, giggles bursting through her.
“An’ how he started blushin’ when you mentioned Faith?” Spike chuckled. “Pet, that was downright amazin’.”
A sly smile came over Buffy’s lips, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him deeply.
“You are, too.”
~*~
A/N: Whee! Smut/fluff…hope you liked it =)
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Technically, I should be reading my own fic because of the rating. This really isn't relevant, I just wanted to make a random observation ^_^