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Chapter Eight - Head of the Class

Buffy stood outside Spike’s classroom, waiting for him to end the class. There was still five minutes left, and Buffy rolled her eyes. She hated the professors that kept their students 'til the very end. It made it that much easier for her to put Spike back into the ‘teacher’ mold, away from the ‘boyfriend’ mold he seemed to be in lately.

After she’d left Spike’s house that morning, the walk back to campus had given her a lot of time to think about what she was doing. She didn’t love Spike, and she was determined not to let it get to that. Her grades were a joke, and there was no way she was getting out of college with a career. She had a nice, cushy future with Angel and if she didn’t stick to their plan she’d end up back home living off her parents for the rest of her pathetic life.

"Buffy?" She looked up in surprise, but accepted Angel’s kiss. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Of course! Why else would I be standing outside your classroom?" Why was she lying again? She didn’t have to sneak around Angel to be with Spike.

Angel shrugged. "Just figured you were here to put in more time with our favorite professor." He held up a paper so she could see the ‘C+’ written in bold red ink at the top.

"Yeah, maybe I should," Buffy agreed.

Angel grinned. "Good." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "I’ll pick you up later for the Sigma party."

"That’s tonight?" She’d completely forgotten about the huge keg party scheduled for that evening.

"Well, yeah it’s Friday. The day before the big game. What’s with you lately?"

"Nothing, just been a little distracted." By your English professor who I’m supposed to be seducing. Turns out, he’s doing a better job of seducing me. "I’ll see you later."

***

Professor Thompson let out a sigh of relief as his last student walked out of the room. It had been almost impossible to concentrate during the three classes he’d had starting at 9:30 that morning. After Buffy had left, he’d practically given himself an ulcer worrying that he’d ruined everything between them.

He didn’t know how, but she’d managed to sneak into his heart during the short time they’d known each other. After Drusilla, Spike had thought he’d never be able to love anyone the way he had loved her. He hadn’t wanted to. Their love was eternal, and if she wasn’t here to be with him he didn’t want to be with anyone else.

But then Buffy had come crashing into his life and all that had gone to hell. She was a spitfire, unlike anyone he’d ever met, and he loved that about her. Hell, he loved everything about her.

"Spike?"

His head shot up from the papers he was gathering. She was standing in the doorway, watching him with an amused expression. Bringing a finger up to her lips, she gestured for him to remain silent before peeking her head out into the abandoned hallway.

Spike was still staring at her, in awe that she had actually come looking for him after that morning, as she stepped back inside the room, locking the door and turning off the lights.

"Buffy what are you-"

"This room is empty for the rest of the day," she started, walking towards him slowly. "The entire building is practically deserted."

His eyes followed Buffy as she passed him by, heading to the windows and shutting the blinds.

"We have this whole room to ourselves." She turned back to him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "And I’m not wearing any underwear."

He must be hearing things. Going crazy. There was no other possible explanation for the words coming out of her mouth. That or his imagination was playing games with him. Maybe she wasn’t really there. But, God, did she feel real.

"Have I ever told you how hot you look in this suit?" she asked, running her hands over his chest. Her gaze followed her hands, up his chest and continued up to his face. "Really. Hot."

Before he could reply, her lips were crashing against his, their mouths mashing together as a series of moans filtered into the air. Her hands were everywhere, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, tugging his shirt out of his pants, fumbling with the tiny buttons and finally, after what seemed like hours, her hands were at the button holding his pants in place.

"Fuck...Buffy..." he moaned after she’d freed him from the confines of his pants. Her hand moved up and down his shaft, slowly stroking it to life.

Quickly, she shed her own pants, bringing his hand between her legs. Her center was dripping wet and scorching hot to the touch. "Need you," she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and hoisting herself up into his arms. "Now."

She was up and had her legs wrapped around his waist before he had time to move his arms to support her. He stumbled forward, losing his footing and falling clumsily to the ground. Without hesitation, he spun around taking the brunt of the fall as they hit the cold cement. The pain was barely recognizable as she impaled herself over his weeping erection.

Buffy set a rough pace, slamming down on him in speedy, sporadic thrusts. This was just a fuck. He was just a fuck. Get off and get out. As these thoughts spiraled through her mind, her pace increased until she was bouncing up and down on his cock and the pain was beginning to overrule the pleasure.

Spike flipped them so he was on top, stilling her movements. He propped himself up with his hands on either side of her, staring down into her eyes. "Slow down." His head dropped as his hips started moving again, this time in a slow, steady rhythm.

"No, harder," she commanded, breaking away from his gentle kisses and moving her hips faster.

"No." He kept moving slowly in and out of her, slipping all the way out of her wet cavern before driving his cock deep inside.

Her head fell to the side as she tried to fight off the tears of confusion that were fighting to roll down her face.

"Look at me." When she didn’t move her head, he lifted one hand to cup her chin and turn her back to him. "Look at me," he repeated, leaning in to kiss her again.

Buffy let him kiss her, his kisses soft but passionate, telling her everything she needed, but didn’t want to know. She responded like she wanted to, but was afraid to, kissing him back just as softly and passionately.

***

"You coming over tonight?" Spike asked later when they were getting dressed.

Buffy shook her head, looking down at the zipper she was pulling up, avoiding his gaze. "I can’t. I have this party..."

"Oh." Spike shrugged on his jacket, running a hand through his hair which he knew was probably screaming ‘I just had sex’.

"It’s just that, if I don’t go my friends will get suspicious," she explained guiltily. "I never miss a party. Especially not a pre-game day Sigma party. Free drinks for Thetas."

He rolled his eyes. "Just be careful. I know what goes on at these parties."

"So I’ve heard," she murmured under her breath.

"What does that mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

This time, she rolled her eyes. "It’s not a big deal. I know that you used to party with the students."

"Used to," he emphasized. "Things are different now."

"Yeah, now you only fuck them." She didn’t know why she was picking a fight with him, but from his expression that was exactly what she’d accomplished.

"What’s your problem?" he asked angrily. "You still pissed about this morning?"

"Not at all," she replied calmly. It still hurt that he’d called her by someone else’s name, but she really was over it. "I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that."

Spike stepped closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on the top of her head. "It’s okay, pet. Walk me to my office?"

She nodded, accepting a brief kiss before they parted.

***

"Hey, Buffy, can I borrow your black Fendi bag?" Willow called out from the bathroom that connected their rooms.

"Sure, but you better not spill beer all over it like Faith did to my Gucci belt last weekend!" Buffy called back from in front of her closet. All the girls in the house were rushing around, getting ready for the Sigma party.

Buffy wasn’t looking forward to the party like she usually would. Hanging out with her friends was always fun, and she would probably get drunk, but she’d also have to deal with Angel. He would no doubt be asking questions about Professor Thompson and she was still debating on what to tell him. She really wanted this whole nightmare to end, but she didn’t know which part of it was the nightmare.

"Buff?"

Buffy snapped back to reality. Willow was standing in front of her, obviously waiting for something. "What?"

"Can I have the bag? I’m going over to Oz’s before the party."

"Oh, sure." Buffy reached into her closet, pulling out the desired garment and handing it to her friend.

"Thanks!"

Buffy’s thoughts turned back to her clothes as Willow exited the room. Angel said he would be picking her up at nine and it was almost eight. She still needed to straighten her hair, pick out her outfit, do her makeup and pick out accessories.

Pushing back all thoughts of Angel and Spike, she rushed into the bathroom to start on her makeup.

***





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