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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks again to Jace and Neo for the beta. I'm going on vacation until next Friday so I hope to come back to lots of reviews and then I'll post a new chapter!
Chapter Three - Poetry

Buffy looked around the house, noticing that he’d set up books on the kitchen table for them to study. Across from the kitchen was a nicely decorated living room. A nice big sofa, a loveseat and an armchair circled around an entertainment unit. Everything was black except for the wood floor beneath their feet.

"Nice place," Buffy commented, walking directly into the living room and making herself comfortable on the couch.

"I thought it would be best for us to study at the table," he told her, gesturing to the books spread out across the table as if she hadn’t seem them already.

She patted the empty cushion next to her. "Bring your stuff over here. It’s more comfortable."

He definitely didn’t want to be comfortable with the beautiful young student in his home, but found he couldn’t deny her either. He dutifully picked up the texts and notebooks and brought them over to her, placing the books between them on the couch.

Buffy rejoiced inwardly. She could tell he was trying to distance himself from her, but she knew half the fight was over. She had him right where she wanted him.

Spike opened up the first text and asked her what her next assignment was. Buffy took the book from his hand and closed it, placing it on the coffee table in front of them.

"Why does everyone call you Spike?" she asked, sneakily moving each book between them onto the coffee table.

"It’s a nickname," he told her, watching as she moved the books but didn’t say anything about it. "Got it when I was a kid. It stuck."

"What’s your real name?"

"William."

"William," she drawled and he loved the way the word tumbled across her tongue. He was getting hard just from hearing her sound out his name. By now the space between them had been cleared and she was discreetly moving closer to him. "I like it, but I think I’ll stick to Spike."

"Ms. Summers..."

"Buffy," she corrected. "I can call you Spike right?"

He nodded. "I-I think all the 102 professors are getting into poetry now," he stammered, the effect of having her so close taking its toll on him. "We should start with poetry."

Almost as if she hadn’t heard him, she took his hand and placed it over her cotton covered breast. "We can start wherever you want."

His eyes widened from shock before he ripped his hand away and flew off the couch. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked nervously already in the kitchen. "How rude of me, not to offer you."

Buffy sighed, but made herself comfortable on the couch. "Sure, make mine on the rocks."

Even though that wasn’t the kind of drink he’d been talking about, he was glad to have the excuse. He needed to regroup and think about what he was doing before he made a big mistake.

Buffy accepted the scotch from him, taking a sip before placing it on a coaster. He was still standing, obviously debating on kicking her out or trying to actually study. She decided to make the decision for him.

"Look, Professor Thompson, I’m sorry about before. I can get a little carried away sometimes," she told him, looking like she was sorry. "Will you please sit back down and help me with the poetry. I really don’t wanna fail again."

Spike seemed to accept what she said, and took his place next to her on the couch. "Okay, shall we start with some Dickinson?"

Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Sure."

He picked up one of his books, opening to the page saved by a bookmark.

"It's all I have to bring to-day, This, and my heart beside,

This, and my heart, and all the fields,

And all the meadows wide.

Be sure you count, should I forget, --

Someone the sum could tell, --

This, and my heart, and all the bees

Which in the clover dwell."

She’d never been a fan of reading or poetry, but the way he read the words was making her wet. His voice was low and sensual like he really felt what the poet was writing deep in his bones. Did he know he would affect her this way? Was that his plan?

Of course not, he was the one who had pushed her away.

Whether or not she’d done it purposely, she was now sitting close to him again. Her breathes were coming out short and shallow and she felt hot under his intense gaze. Not giving him a chance to pull away, she leaned foward capturing his mouth in a hard kiss. She felt him stiffen under her lips, but he responded after the initial shock wore off.

She was kissing him. God, it was so wrong, but she tasted so good and it had been so long. He pulled her into his lap forcefully. He was sure she could feel his hard on poking into her ass, and he let out a moan as she wiggled in his lap.

Spike was the first to break away, panting for air like a dog on a hot summer’s day. He looked so shocked and pleased and horny that she couldn’t let the moment pass. She started trailing kisses down his neck, sucking on his pulse point while her hands moved over his denim clad erection.

"Buffy," he hissed, the part of his brain that had been telling him this was wrong no longer functioning as her small fingers touched him through his jeans.

She silenced him with a kiss on the lips before she crawled out of his lap to kneel between his legs on the floor. Before he could protest she’d freed his erection and was pumping him slowly.

"Doesn’t poetry just make you so horny?"

He couldn’t find his voice, so he simply nodded. Watching her as she moved her mouth over the tip of his cock and sucked on the precum glistening there, he felt his balls tighten and had to close his eyes to prevent coming right then. Her hand was still pumping his shaft as her tongue swirled around the head.

His hands gripped the fabric of the cushion to prevent himself from thrusting his hands in her hair and fucking her face. She was teasing him and he wanted her to cut the shit and take his length in her hot little mouth, but couldn’t find the voice to tell her so.

"Is this okay, Professor Thompson?" she asked in an innocent voice, her big round eyes staring up at him.

He shook his head, and she knew he wanted more. She stopped pumping him and removed her hand. He groaned at the loss of touch until he felt her take him into her mouth. She relaxed her throat and took him in as far as she could without gagging. She used her tongue and sucked him for all he was worth, swallowing and clenching her throat muscles around him.

She bobbed her head up and down over his shaft, reaching into his jeans to cup his balls in her soft hands. She rolled her thumbs over the stretchy skin feeling them tense beneath her touch.

"Buffy," he moaned, his hands now in her hair attempting to pull her head back. "Buffy...I’m...close....I’m....gonna..."

She only continued with increased stamina, one hand abandoning his sack to pump the base of his cock while she sucked on the tip. She heard his labored breathing, his hands running wildly through her hair as he neared climax.

He came with a loud moan, shooting his load down the back of her throat. She eagerly licked him dry before climbing up onto the couch next to him again





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