When he was pulled in for a rather violent kiss, Spike knew he was no longer in Buffy’s presence. He’d fought Slayers, he’d killed Slayers--but he’d never fucked one. The thought of plunging himself into the hot depths of someone who could take as much as she could dish made him harder than hell. Adding his own passion to the kiss, he felt her bite his lower lip, drawing blood. When the young woman pulled away and saw blood pool onto his lower lip, she leaned in to lick it away.

Now they were into blood play. The vampire’s ultimate undoing. Spike couldn’t help but vamp out at the sight of the Slayer turning the taste of his blood over in her mouth. He let out a deep growl, meant as a warning: he had to let Buffy, or the Slayer--whoever was in the driver’s seat--know that he was serious. Screwing vamped-out Spike was going to be nothing like making love to lovestruck-puppy Spike.

When Spike vamped out, lust-filled amber eyes glowing, fangy grin set in a leer, Buffy would have been scared. She would have meekly backed down and apologized for egging him on. The Slayer, on the other hand, was only turned on by the demon’s show of testosterone. However, she was a woman and she was sick and tired of being rained on. A cold, wet Slayer meant a miserable Slayer. Pushing him away, she growled back at him. “Make the doors open. Now.”

Mind addled with lust, the vampire took a second to register what the other blonde was saying. Make the doors open? What the hell does that mean? Oh fuck--the car doors! Reaching into the blazer’s pockets he fished around for the keys, pressing the ’unlock’ button.

When she heard the doors unlock, the Slayer tore the rear passenger door open and pointed to Spike. “You. Get in there, now.”

Spike did as he was told. Although his demon preferred to have the upper hand in any sexual encounter, it was also curious. Never having been with a Slayer, it wanted to sit back and see what she was capable of. When he was comfortably seated, he watched her crawl in and sit on his lap, straddling him. When her lips crashed into his, reopening his cut from her bite, he couldn’t help but snake his strong arms around her, crushing her lithe form to his own body.

In a strange way, the Slayer was still a virgin. She’d never come out to ‘play’ in any of Buffy’s encounters. Not with Spike, and certainly not with Angel. But it didn’t mean that she didn’t know how to get what she wanted. The vampire was crushing her to him in a vice-like grip that would have broken any normal girl’s weak ribs. She fought for a little room and when he relented--just a little--she used that extra space to grind herself against his erection.

All these sensations were going to drive him mad. He’d become as barmy as his sire, the Slayer was making sure of it: the mixture of her hot body pressed against his--ok, held tightly against his, her heat rubbing against his erection and the blood in her mouth where his fangs had nicked her tongue and lips. It was all enough to drive a vampire to bloody insanity.

He felt the Slayer pry herself out of his grip--although he really could have held on if he’d really wanted to. Through hooded lids, he watched as she bit her lip, trying to decide her next move. A devilish grin appeared on her lips, one that could have scared the master vampire had he not been so damned horny.

Where to start, where to start? She sat back on Spike’s lap, pondering her next move. She had so many options, but the Slayer wanted to draw this out and make it as long and as heated as possible. Who knew when she’d next be allowed to come out and play? Biting her lip, it registered in her muddled mind that something was wrong. Now what... Oh--of course! He was overdressed! Grabbing each side of his collar, she pulled the garment apart with a fierce tug.

Spike’s eyes followed the buttons as they flew all over the back seat of the BMW. When he felt the Slayer’s nails dig into his skin, dragging down the pale, alabaster expanse of his chest and drawing blood, he lay his head back and roared. His head flew back to the Slayer, though, when he felt her tongue on his skin. He began to shake with need--fuck, did he ever need to pound his cock into her hot body--as he watched her lick the blood that trickled from her scratch marks. He tried to get her off his lap, to put her in a more submissive position, but it proved almost impossible. She matched him push for push and shove for shove until they were both panting from exertion, still sitting in the same position.

Trying a different angle, the Slayer brought Spike’s hands up to her breasts. She needed him to touch her, to make her even hotter than she was already. When he began to knead her two soft mounds, she moaned and threw her head back. Her skin was flushed with need, and the cool touch of his skin only added to the burning sensation. He pulled her forward and began to suck her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. She was glad Buffy had decided against wearing a bra that evening. It made things so much easier, and oh so much better. When the sensation stopped she furrowed her brow and looked down at the vampire. The demon gave her a shit-eating grin just before he grabbed her dress and pulled it down her chest, ripping it in the act.

Her head started spinning when she felt the flat of his cold tongue drag over her hardened nipple. His mouth on one breast, his hand on the other, Spike was making sure that he was making her as crazy as she’d made him--this the Slayer knew. Every sucking motion, every pinched nipple--it was all heading in one straight line, down to her centre. In a very un-Slayer reaction, she squealed when she felt his fangs pierce the soft skin of her breast. Looking down, she decided that the sight of a vampire latched on to her breast was very, very arousing.

Teeth embedded in the Slayer’s breast--what was Buffy going to think about that when she came back to the forefront?--Spike decided that he could no longer wait. Wedging his hand in between their bodies, he slid it down until it reached her underpants. Using a sharp nail to tear into them, he pulled the offending material away, tossing it to the side. He pulled his teeth out of her and concentrated on lavishing her neck with wet, open-mouth kisses. No telling how the Slayer will react if he tries to bite her there--better be safe (and nestled safely in her heat) than a sorry pile of ashes.

She felt his fingers slip inside of her gauging her readiness. Stupid vamp, the Slayer thought to herself, isn’t the fact that I’m writhing on your lap like a bitch in heat a good enough indicator? She edged her hand down to his own pants, her concentration marred by the sensation of his thumb rubbing against her clit. Twice, in her effort to divest him of his pants--stupid belt, she had to stop and take a breather. Her body was quaking, her nerves were all tingling--and all because of the vampire and his magical fingers. When she finally had his belt undone, she popped the pants’ button and slid the zipper down. Reaching down into his pants, she took his hard length in her hand and pulled it out.

For a short moment, the frenzy of the vampire and Slayer’s coupling fizzed down. They rested their foreheads one against the other and remained still. That was until the Slayer began to slide her hand up and down Spike’s shaft, coating it in the precum that had dribbled out of its tip. She felt his chest rumble in a low growl. Pulling his hand away from her clit, she brought it up to her lips and licked her juices off of his fingers, making a good show of twirling her tongue around the long digits, taking them into her mouth and sucking on them.

Almost as soon as it had lulled, the passion flared up again. Buffy grabbed Spike’s hands and pinned them to his sides, just above his head before she impaled herself on his shaft. She slowed for a short moment before sliding up and down, increasing her speed to match their combined groans.

Ok, Spike’s demon had had enough of being the Slayer’s bitch. With a feral growl, he twisted them so that she lay beneath him, never breaking the intimate contact they shared. His eyes almost crossed as she flexed her inner muscles, gripping his cock in a steel-like grasp. He pistoned in and out of her nonetheless, pounding her body without mercy. Her fingers were on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, but that didn’t deter him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he realized that the Slayer’s actions weren’t meant to stop him, but rather to egg him on, to make him fuck her that much harder.

When the Slayer felt her muscles begin to twitch, she gave one final effort and managed to turn them back over, with her on top once again. Spike’s breathing was erratic and his gaze was unfocussed--she knew that he was as close as she was to falling over the edge. Just as her climax hit, she leaned in and bit down harshly on the vampire’s neck, drawing blood.

When he felt her blunt teeth breaking the skin on his neck, Spike howled. Body arching up towards hers, he grasped her ass, pressing her down onto him as he came. He came for what felt like was hours, even if it was only about 30 seconds. When his body relaxed again, he opened his eyes and looked up at the Slayer. She smiled at him and whispered “mine.”

Fuck. She’d claimed him. Not that he didn’t want it--actually, he wanted to run out into the streets and yell at the top of his voice that he was Buffy’s. Well, that was William for you--the wanker. She looked at him expectantly, neck stretched out over him. He knew what that meant, the claim, but he wondered if she did. “Buffy? You know what this means, right, love?”

The young woman looked into his amber eyes--eyes which held no less love for her than his blue eyes--and nodded. “Yes, Spike. It means I love you as much as you love me. And it means that we belong together. I don’t know how much time I have, but I want to spend it with you.”

Spike took a deep breath to calm himself. She loved him. Buffy Summers loved him, William the Bloody/Spike/Childe of the line of Aurelius. He smiled back at her to reassure her, and gently placed his hand over the back of her neck. Pulling her towards his mouth, he sank his fangs into her neck, in the same spot as he’d bitten her just a few days prior. “Mine,” he whispered into her ear, as she finally rested against him.

***

They drove back to the hotel after having cleaned themselves up a little--what would a cop think if he pulled them over and saw the claw marks on Spike’s chest, or the bite marks on either blonde’s neck? Stopping to kiss every few steps, they finally made it up to their room. Both were relieved not to have Hetty in the lobby waiting for them, to see if they’d had a romantic evening. It was best that they be able to wait until tomorrow to meet up with anyone...

As he slipped the key into their lock and pushed the door open, Spike pulled Buffy to him and growled playfully. He pulled her into their room and they shared a passionate kiss. “Now, let’s go get cleaned up, love. Betcha that tub is big enough for both of us.”

Both blondes jumped as a voice from inside the room interrupted them. “I’m afraid your little... session... will have to wait a while longer, Mr. Sinclair.”

Author's Note: Well, here it is--hope you guys liked it! Regular posting schedule resumes tomorrow. We'll be getting more plot in the upcoming chapters; I figure it's about time they concentrate on the baby :-) Thanks, as ever, to those who reviewed.