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AUTHOR'S NOTES: I know I'm late, and I'm very very sorry! It's been busy lately, and RL took up time. And, for some reason inspiration decided to leave me for a while and I just wasn't able to think. But I hope this chapter makes up for the delay! Please review and thanks for reading! *huggles*
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Rex was getting a tongue lashing. It really wasn't fair, considering Buffy had practically forced him to help her out tonight. Rex had no compunction telling Stevo that himself, but it didn't do anything but raise the gypsy's temper, and his voice. Buffy was stuck in the back of Spike's car between Dylan, Blake, and a half asleep Ace, listening to two men argue with each other about the choice she had made tonight.

Spike wasn't driving back with them, but that was another issue.

Right now, Buffy was just trying to fight off a headache and ignore the aching in her throat. It wasn't that bad, she could talk if she really needed to, but it was sore and every intake of breath was a little hard to take. With Stevo screaming in the front seat, and Rex roaring right back, it wasn't the most comfortable car ride.

Dylan seemed angry, too, and she felt guilty enough for all the uproar she'd caused tonight. Of course, they weren't angry with HER so very much... but that just made her feel worse.

"You should have refused," Stevo was saying again, his tone low and controlled for once, but sounding as if he might be one wrong word from exploding again. It was strange to witness Stevo being anything but calm and collected. Yet he was, because she'd endangered herself.

"I did!" Rex yelled once more, starting to sound very much like an angry broken record.

"Yet there she was tonight, with you at her side and vampires abounds." Stevo spun the car on a fierce turn, and his fingers threatened to break the steering wheel as tires screeched.

Blake thudded into the side door and shouted. "Jesus, are you trying to tip the car over?!"

Stevo said nothing, and the original argument continued.

"She's fine! And I wouldn't have taken her if she hadn't-"

"What? Begged you? Threatened to cry and scream? I've never known you to be a pushover with anyone, Rex, and yet you allowed her to guilt you into bringing her into a battle tonight!"

Rex ran his hands through his hair in frustration before yelling again. "She wanted to see Spike!"

"You put her life in danger simply because you couldn't say no to her, do you realize that?!"

Another violent turn and the accelerating of the car kept Rex from responding for only a second, then he said, "I didn't mean to!"

"That doesn't matter, it's too late now!"

"You act like I put those bruises on her throat!"

"You may as well have!"

At the thunderous look in Rex's yellow eyes, Buffy couldn't take it anymore. Stevo and him were two seconds away from a physical fight, and she was tired. Her neck injury had been caused by her own decisions- NOT anyone else's. All of this was her fault.

Against her better judgment, Buffy managed an interruptive screech to stop the men from arguing. She didn't say words, just yelled painfully, and it caught everyone's attention in the car. She finally had a moment to get her message across. "Stop it! I'm fine!" she said, and grimaced internally at the sound of her voice which challenged her own statement. "I know I shouldn't have dragged Rex into helping me tonight, and I'm sorry I caused so much trouble. But you guys have to stop this."

Stevo glanced at her over his shoulder with concern and anger. It hurt to see that in his eyes, but she was too upset to focus on it for any longer than a moment, then he said, "Stop talking, your throat is damaged enough."

He hadn't yelled at her like he did Rex, and Buffy wasn't sure if that made her feel comforted or ignored. She defied him anyway. "I know. And I'M the one who screwed it up! But I don't regret making Rex fly me out tonight so-"

Ace put his hand on her shoulder. "Enough Buffy-"

She went on without pausing. "-please stop arguing about it!"

Stevo glanced back at her with a look that was filled with both rage and contrition; how he managed it, she didn't know. "He should've refused you," he ground out.

Rex slammed his hand on the dashboard. "You fucking try it!"

Blake decided then to add in his voice. "She's got you wrapped around her little finger almost as tightly as Spike is."

Dylan scoffed and said under his breath, "Like you're not."

"What was that?" Blake asked sharply.

Ace groaned when Stevo made yet another sharp turn. "That was on my shoulder, Stev! Slow down!"

Buffy put her hand to her head, starting to feel as if she might hyperventilate when Stevo replied in anger to Ace's demand. Then Rex shot back into the fight and soon everyone was yelling. She ground her teeth together and would've screeched once again if her throat wasn't burning from the last time. Instead, she prayed for patience-

"I swear to the fucking Gods, if you say that one more time-"

"Don't threaten me, Rex. You've already got one fight on your hands when Spike meets us back at the house."

"And you won't do anything to interfere, of course."

Stevo glared with bright eyes at his friend. "Buffy was foolish in her plans tonight, and you helped them come to fruition! So when Spike rightfully tries to tear you apart-"

It was the last straw. Buffy leaned over Ace's and Dylan's bodies and grabbed the door handle, quickly gaining an exit to the speeding vehicle. Ace flung himself in the opposite direction and Buffy waited for the DeSoto to slow to a hasty stop. When it did, she was fast and out the door while the guys shouted behind her. Was she crazy, was she out of her mind? What the HELL was she doing?

Buffy ignored them. And she thanked her good luck that they'd made it back to MayBell and were close to Spike's place. She knew her way from here and she'd go on foot, she couldn't deal with their shouting any longer.

She hadn't even made it fifteen feet from the car before Ace had taken her arm and the voices of the others behind her registered. She pulled herself free and glared at him, refusing to hurt her throat any more than it already was. Stevo and Dylan were next to appear before her, and she heard Blake and Rex at her back. Buffy felt surrounded.

"What the hell were you trying to do, kill yourself?!" Stevo bellowed.

Ace rubbed his sore shoulder and cast a look of distaste at the gypsy. "She wouldn't have been risking much if you weren't speeding like an asshole!"

Stevo said nothing, but his silence was somehow harsh. Ace turned back to Buffy again. "What the hell were you thinking?"

It wasn't a shout, but it didn't help her temper at all. Buffy spun and began to walk away. She had to push past Rex and Blake. Once she was separated, she heard behind her: "I think she's upset."

Well, leave it to Dylan to be the one to notice these obvious things. Buffy kept walking. Rex and Stevo met up with her and stayed at her sides.

"What's wrong?" the gypsy asked in a disgruntled voice.

Rex rolled his eyes but kept quiet; so did Buffy.

Blake approached, and she heard the car roll up in the background. Ace and Dylan were driving it behind the four of them. She huffed angrily but didn't speak. She wanted to be alone before she couldn't prevent herself from screaming again, but no one seemed to be getting the hint.

Then Blake eyed her cautiously, and said, "She's ready to kill us, guys, maybe we should just back off-"

"Why are YOU so mad?!" Stevo asked belligerently.

The exclamation, the disbelief, the small overhang of righteousness in his voice had Buffy losing every bit of control. She turned on him. "Lay OFF!"

Her throat positively burned with that one, but the utter shock at her fury and the look in her eyes that bordered on tears had each man halting. She stood and stared at them all for a moment, then strode away again.

She didn't protest when they slowly retreated and went back to the car, piling into the backseat. And she didn't care that they stayed behind her as she walked quickly back to Spike's place.

Her arms crossed, her bag hitting her backside with each angry step, Buffy tried her hardest to pull in every emotion. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to fight. And more than anything, she didn't want anyone else to continue fighting. She'd caused enough drama for one day, and yes she'd been hurt, but she couldn't say sorry again. She could never say sorry for doing what she had.

She'd followed her heart and her nerves, which was both risky and some would say foolish, but she hadn't wanted to hurt anybody or make anyone angry. It hadn't been her intention to cause all this arguing, it hadn't been her intention to get strangled or scare her friends and her boyfriend; but she had and she couldn't reconcile anything.

She was upset, she was mad that they were mad, she was ready to slap each of them silly... Nothing was of the good right now.

Buffy sighed loudly into the night, looking up at the bright moon and the starry sky. It was a beautiful evening. Why was it always so perfect outside when something bad was happening? Never storm clouds or overcast, always a clear sky on the days when you just wanted to crawl into bed and forget everything.

She glanced at the shoulder strap of her bag that pressed across her chest, and decided against the idea to listen to music. If she did, she'd tune out the world and nothing would get resolved.

They were almost back at Spike's, and if he was there, then she'd have to prepare.

But he probably wasn't.

He'd decided to walk home from the bar, against all warnings and urgings from his friends to get in the car. He'd tossed his keys to Stevo and said, "Drive," then walked away. Buffy had let him, their recent fight was still fresh on both their nerves. Trying to get him to ride in a confined space with her for any length of time wasn't a good idea right now.

She was a little concerned that he was alone, but she knew he could take care of himself. Buffy's worries were bedraggled and worn from the events of the night. She was too tired to be frightened for him, especially after watching him in fight.

It was a strange combination, this nervousness yet confidence she had in Spike's abilities to watch his own back. She was scared of him being beaten, scared of the risks fighting brought, but she also wasn't because she had seen his talent for it. Spike thrived under assault- Literally. He jumped and moved as fast as a cat, and struck at his opponents with lethal brutality.

If Buffy wasn't so upset and her emotions weren't running at an all time high at that moment, she'd have reflected on the fact she didn't think Spike looked half bad when he was all fangy and deadly. Rather, watching him battle was...

She shivered.

***

The kitchen light had been on. The back door had been unlocked, and she'd felt him the second she'd walked through it.

Buffy realized Spike was home safe and sound sooner than the knowledge had reached her notice. She'd still walked inside, straight to the cabinet where the glasses were.

Her throat was parched and sore, and water sounded like heaven right that instant. But when she'd filled her glass and sipped some down, slowly and with minor caution, Spike appeared in the doorway and she'd choked. Coughing, wincing, Buffy set the glass down and waved off his concern. She still wasn't happy with him at the moment, and she knew he wasn't happy with her.

Actually, anyone could tell he wasn't happy with her. His lips were pursed, his jaw tight and his shoulders looked like you might be able to use him as an ironing table, but he'd still asked her if she was alright when she'd started coughing.

Buffy got herself under control, and was just in time to noticed her vampire's hard stare locked on the backdoor. Not two seconds later, the others piled in. They were talking in what they must've assumed were hushed tones, because harsh whispers usually meant so with this group, even if you could understand everything they were saying from two rooms away.

Rex was the second in line, cut off from Stevo and behind Blake. Before Buffy could blink, Spike had leapt forward and grabbed him.

Damn it! And she was supposed to be a shield!

Blake and Ace were pulling at Spike's arms even as Buffy ran forward to place herself between her boyfriend and Rex. The former was groaning on the ground- Or maybe he was swearing and groaning. Either way, he was just starting to rise when surprisingly, Stevo stepped forward to help restrain Spike.

Buffy's boyfriend fought against the holds of his friends as if they were his enemies, and the growling, feral look on his face directed at Rex made Buffy feel guilty all over again.

*No! Stop that! You're not supposed to feel bad about what you did tonight. All you can do now is make sure Spike doesn't kill his friend.*

Buffy scowled and realized she'd have to do some more talking. Lovely.

Even with a stressed throat, she somehow managed to speak firmly to Spike, her tone implacable. She ordered him to calm down, because all he was doing was acting like an angry child (yes, she'd actually used that comparison). He barely stopped struggling, though, and Ace looked at Buffy with eyes that said, "I'm ready to knock him over the head if he doesn't stop."

She bit back a groan, and then sighed when she felt Rex directly behind her. Indeed a shield.

"Spike," she stepped closer to him, catching his eyes with hers and lowering her raspy voice. "Enough! You're not going to hurt Rex, got it? He didn't do anything wrong."

Stevo stiffened, and it was super hard to tell because he was helping control a furious vampire at the moment, but Buffy knew he disagreed with her statement. She ignored him. Staring into Spike's angry eyes again, she explained, "I told him to help me. And he did. And if he hadn't, you guys wouldn't have had him at that battle-" He growled lowly. "And you NEEDED him," she stressed, "You know you did. Now please, stop acting like you're going to hurt him. We both know you're not."

His jaw clenched, and she saw he was at least trying this time. But his anger was still too high. Buffy swallowed again. "Please," she asked.

As if by slow working magick, Spike ceased his struggles in a glide, one minute thrashing against others' arms, the next breathing hard but stilling every movement.

Buffy suddenly realized, like ice cracking in warm water, that part of the reason for him not riding home in the car was because he'd probably been trying to lessen his anger; not just because he couldn't stand to be near her.

It was an unexpected balm. And if Spike had managed to calm down at all, she only assumed that Rex might have been in a coma right now had he not gotten the solitude

Could thunderbirds be put into comas?

Buffy shook her head. That wasn't important.

And it didn't matter that Spike was upset because Rex had helped to endanger her, in his mind. She wouldn't let him hurt his friend.

Said friend decided at that moment to speak up. "I'm sorry," he ground out, his prideful toughness taking a backseat for once. With the apology, tension seemed to evaporate like steam. Stevo relaxed, and Buffy noticed his bronze-brown eyes softening in the way she hadn't witnessed since before the battle tonight. And Spike, though still stiff and threatening, took a deep breath that sounded resigned.

It didn't seem to matter, she noticed, that Rex had already apologized in the car a few times during all the arguing. But now he'd said it to Spike, and some sort of invisible handshake had taken place with the power to still an ocean current.

Her vampire was released, and Buffy sighed gratefully when he didn't lunge for anyone. Noting the silence, and the look in his eyes that still spoke of danger, she decided to take one for the team.
"I'm sorry, too," she just about mumbled. But everyone heard, and their surprised expressions made her quickly amend, "That doesn't mean I wouldn't do it again!"

Blake rose an eyebrow. "Did anyone ever teach you the meaning of 'I'm sorry?'"

Buffy absolutely refused to feel the pink rising to her cheeks. It wasn't there. "I'm sorry that I scared everyone and almost got," she swallowed painfully, "killed. And for making you all so angry with Rex." She waved to the man behind her. "But not for getting there anyway that I could."

Ace and Dylan sighed deeply, obviously tired, accepting her statement. The others all sort of gave curt nods, Stevo's obviously begrudging- except for Spike. He looked like- Well, truthfully she'd never seen that look on him before.

It gave her chills, but she didn't let herself shake at all. Her skin suddenly felt acutely sensitive, actually, as if she could feel his eyes raking over every inch of her body when all he was looking at was her face.

The others around her started to move, to do things like prepare coffee and open up the fridge, use the microwave; she was stilled as if stuck in tar. Her breathing became faster than it should be. Her heart rate picked up... God, why was she suddenly so hot?

She swallowed again, and then a voice pervaded the drumming silence. "Buffy?!"

She blinked, breaking eye contact with Spike. "Huh?"

Ace held up a little packet of what looked like dried basil, but she was sure it wasn't when he said, "I asked if you wanted some tea for your throat?"

She frowned, then nodded when her brain caught up with the simple inquiry. "Please." When she looked back at Spike he was still staring. It was a hungry look, one of unused energy and heat she was uncertain of. He could be ready to scream at her or kiss her. Either way, he looked like he wanted to devour her.

Spike approached and took her hand. His grip was gentle but firm; she couldn't escape if she wanted to.

He tugged her from the room, only stopping to address Ace and command, "Bring the tea upstairs and leave it in front of my door. Knock."

The slight emphasis on that last word had Buffy's thoughts scattering. She knew exactly now what the curious tension she felt was, and why Spike had stirred it up. She also knew that Ace would not be opening that door.

She pretended not to see the slight smirk on Blake's face as they passed him, quickly racing up the stairs to reach Spike's bedroom only a moment later. Buffy walked in ahead of him when he opened the door. Quickly, she backed toward the wall, eyeing her boyfriend like a wild animal might eye a new possible threat.

She felt rather trapped when he shut the door and looked at her with a stare so wild it would have fit better on a howling beast. The rest of him was controlled to the point where it seemed he might snap in half, but his eyes... they were full of fire.

Buffy swallowed convulsively, idly scolding herself for feeling jittery. She was decidedly cornered. But she'd felt cornered before in her life, and it had never been this welcome a sensation.

Spike tilted his head, and she thought his eyes zeroed in on her... neck? Oh God.

Truth be told, he actually was focusing on her jugular. Blatantly. The throbbing, nearly invisible pulse point was making his mouth water and his gums itch, and the rest of her... Oh that was lovely, too.

It had been a long night. One long, torturous night. He'd spent his solitude walking home trying to control his temper and get a handle on the emotions running through him. Worrying about the threat Buffy made to herself now, out of bravery and rash decision making, had him anything but calm. Not to mention, Spike had wanted to kill Rex, and it had been damn hard to convince himself of doing otherwise... He didn't exactly succeed, of course.

The demon inside him was still calling for blood. The vampire's, who had dared to wrap his hands around Buffy's throat. Rex's- though not as strongly as once before -for agreeing to the girl's insane ideas of earlier. And Buffy, for said ideas.

He was angry, he was scared, he hadn't gotten home five minutes before she'd arrived back with the others, and Spike hadn't yet been able to really calm himself down. Inside he was still anxious, and he was never anxious; it was a strange feeling mixed in with a demanding, blood pulsing heat. He wanted to feel Buffy's skin beneath his fingers more than he wanted to feel a happy pulse die out beneath his fangs. He wanted to hold her close, feel her heartbeat against his chest and let it deafen him to everything else.

His skin felt on fire just looking at her, and Spike had already realized, decided, that he would have her. Tonight.

No more waiting, no more drugged, strenuously teasing kisses that gave a silent limit and tortured him as well as they pleased. Tonight a tension had invaded his senses, and he would make sure it invaded hers as well.

"Spike?" she questioned, her voice almost quivery in its weakness. He allowed a dangerous smirk to come over his features, excitement lancing when he heard her heartbeat speed.

He approached her and slipped off his duster on the way, dropping it unerringly onto the bed. She opened her mouth to talk again, and he knew it was against her better judgment because she winced just before parting those soft pink lips.

Spike shushed her, and smiled slightly at the small but unmistakable flare in her eyes that spoke of the willfulness he loved. "Your throat," he explained, "I won't have you hurtin yerself anymore t'night."

She opened her mouth again and he sealed off the expected protest quickly with a kiss. Stunned, then pliant in his arms, Spike removed Buffy's sweater as his tongue slid between her lips. At her whimper, he ran his hands up her arms and around her shoulders, holding her tightly and close as he backed them into the bathroom.

Inside, he kicked the door closed and pressed her against it. His hands were gentle yet controlled, his instincts screaming while he held himself as tightly drawn as an crossbow. He wanted to consume her, she needed him to do so slowly. Hot palms ran themselves over his neck in greed, nails tracing down his shirt front and brushing his nipples accidentally through the cotton.

A small growl threatened to well up in his throat when she did it again, and then a third time seemingly on purpose. He pulled back from her mouth only to go to her throat, nipping incessantly with blunt teeth. Again, his gums itched. And her contented sigh as Buffy pressed herself nearer, intimately straining to meet him, sent Spike's head spinning.

She wasn't talking, he wouldn't permit it even if she wanted to with her throat as it was, but it was hard to keep his own lips shut as she pressed closer and closer to him until they were both writhing against each other, threatening to splinter the wood of the door.

He pushed one hand beneath the hem of her top and felt soft skin, hot to the touch, goose bumps rising at the tickle of his fingers. His breath felt heavy, and he loved the shiver that ran across her skin as he whispered in her ear. He told her the things he wanted to do to her, the things he was going to do. He said things that heated her skin beneath his hand as he reached her chest and touched her in new acquaintance.

For one brief moment he realized this was as bare as she'd ever been in front of him. Greedy for more, he slowly ran one hand around to the back of her torso and found her bra clip. He hesitated a moment to see if she would, then undid the clasp. He had the thing off before Buffy could draw another ragged breath.

He pulled back from her red and bruised throat only to lean back in and kiss her delicately once over a dark finger mark. His demon seethed beneath the surface, but Spike held his anger in check, if only by sheer luck and chancy control.

When her back arched Spike could feel soft little points against his chest through fabric that was quickly becoming too heavy. He caught the sight of her nipples, hard yet supple, pressing insistently against the thin white tank top. Pink rose offered to play peek-a-boo with him if he so much as brushed their enclosure aside, so much as touched. He did more.

A shrill gasp left her lungs when Spike's cool wet tongue circled around the tips of her breasts, soaking fabric without heed and plucking her nipples with his teeth. His fingers dug into her back, forcing her closer until her spine bent like a violin bow. He didn't think she noticed- or at least cared -that she was grinding her hips into his, futilely trying to receive friction of a sort.

Buffy ran her hands through his hair. This sent little flickers of pleasure over his skin, starting from where her fingers raked all the way down to the already stiffening dilemma between his thighs. Spike growled, and pulled his mouth away from her breasts, ignoring the protest that died fast on her tongue when he met it with his.

He felt her fingers move to his T-shirt, tugging up as her breathing quickened beneath messy kisses. Spike divested himself of the black cotton and had to keep to a standstill the moment her fingers touched him. It was like scorching flame, and he was a hairsbreadth away from losing himself completely. Then her nails raked down his abdomen, she raised her hips in involuntary, silent query, and he grabbed the back of her neck to haul her close again. Damn patience.

His tongue traced her jaw, teeth nipping, his ears drumming with the sound of her pulse. Spike undid the button on her jeans, slipping his hand inside and sliding the zipper down in the process. He nibbled her earlobe as he cupped her intimately, his palm burning. "Do you have any idea," he rasped, "how badly I want this?" She moaned when his fingers flexed, rubbing against moist cloth he intended to have off very soon. "How badly I want to feel you?" Spike's fingers pushed past the barrier of satin, dipping into her cleft, "Taste you... Know how you might squirm around my tongue, how you'll scream if I slip inside you."

She clawed fiercely at his arms, seemingly not sure whether she wanted to tug him closer or push him away. Her whimper of assent and pleasure deafened all other thoughts, while the unexpected jump she made for his throat where her tongue and lips started to play threw his senses out the window. It was so hot, like flames on his skin, and then her scent assaulted his senses as she became wetter and slick in his hand.

Buffy reveled in his closeness, and Spike knew it. He gladly met her useless attempts to be nearer, pressing her back harder against the wood of the door. Her hips were moving against his fingers, where he traced and began to slowly press deeper. She bucked when the heel of his hand met her clit, and he slid one finger, then two, inside her up to his knuckles.

Whimpers came from her throat while he kissed her neck in biting indelicacy, murmuring in between. "Like warm velvet, you are. You're gonna fit me like a glove." He rubbed her a little harder, but kept his pace slow, then curled his fingers... She moaned in happiness, his name on her lips. Spike nearly came undone.

The growl he released should have scared her, Buffy idly thought, but her mind was too fogged to think for too long on anything other than him. All she felt was Spike touching her, his fingers deep inside her and fire taking hold. The tightening in her belly. She knew exactly where this was headed, and she just wanted to speed up the time to get there faster.

Spike, evidently, wasn't having it. Suddenly, before she could shudder and fall limp into his masterful hands, he slowed his movements on her to a terrible torture. She groaned and grabbed at his shoulders, her eyes widening and hips rising when he removed the heel of his hand from her sensitive clit.

"Easy, kitten," he whispered in a tone that did nothing to calm her, tracing the edge of her earlobe with his tongue, "M'gonna take care of you."

And he did. But first he left her in suspended bliss to turn on the shower, hot water dropping in a steamy cascade that lured her like a cat to a bowl of cream. Then Spike came back, his eyes smoldering, and caught her gaze as he brought his hands back to her zipper. Her body flinched in reaction to the spark she felt at his touch. Spike started slipping her jeans down her legs, and her breath shortened.

He kept their eyes locked as he knelt on the ground and helped her free of the denim, watching for glimpses of worry or objection. All he saw was allowance laced with a small amount of hesitation. The latter vanished when he stood up, gliding his fingers up her calves to her thighs, ultimately reaching her hips and stomach.

Buffy's hands found their own way to his belt buckle, and quickly undid it with shaky fingers. Spike kissed her, languid and deep. She wrapped her arms around his neck again and felt him slide her messy ponytail free. Before she realized it, he'd picked her up and set her on the edge of the sink.

Spike tongued the little indent at the base of her throat, feeling her pulse beat strongly beneath. He nipped and growled hungrily. Buffy was pulling and clawing at his shoulders again, whispering his name until Spike couldn't take it any longer. He wrapped an arm about her waist and hauled her against him, then lifted, bringing her to stand in front of the open shower door. "Get in." He cocked his head at the stream of falling water.

Buffy's breathing was heavy, her heartbeat an irregular staccato; she complied. Stepping back, tank top and underwear still on, she entered the shower stall and waited with her palms behind her, pressed against the tiled wall. Spike took no longer than thirty seconds to rid himself of shoes and Levis before joining her, the shower door closing with a definitive click.

The picture she made caused his useless lungs to cease. Her hair was wet at the ends, dripping water down her front and making the shirt she wore reveal more than it covered. Pink areolas outlined enticingly by soaked through material where his tongue had been and where water fell; the white fabric clung to her curves. Spike had her in his arms before she could finish taking a step towards him.

Buffy hissed at the pressure to her breasts when their chests met; then she pressed harder, closer. She stepped on tip toes to kiss him, their tongues meeting in an erotic entanglement. She let her hands roam, her skin hot beneath the spray of the shower and Spike's attentions. She felt his fingers stripping her now soaked underwear from her hips, and she kicked them to the side when they hit the floor.

She felt his hands on the backs of her thighs, trailing a tingling fire along her skin. She rubbed herself against him, feeling his erection hard yet soft, teasing the gap between her legs. His fingers found her again, and she couldn't help a whimper, her nerves jangling like broken bells when he growled harshly. He sunk two fingers inside her again, and rubbed her in the perfect spot... Spike tore his mouth away, and licked his way down to her hardened nipples, soothing them with his tongue, covering them like cool silk. Her back bowed when his hand pressed her to, the other quickly bringing her breathing to an erratic sound that was all Buffy could hear.

Her abdomen tightened, she pressed ever closer and her hips moved faster. She was ignorant of the water running down her face, caressing closed eyelids and her parted lips. All she could feel was Spike; his hair between her roaming fingers, his teeth once again at her neck, mercilessly teasing himself she knew, while he worked her like magic.

Then the virtual dam broke, bringing with it a completion so sweet and hot Buffy let out a yelp. Her clit pressed hard into his palm while his fingers met with slick heat, and he hissed between his teeth. Buffy keened and held onto him, the only thing that could ground her.

She finished in his arms, and aftershocks lit through her like sparkler flashes. Spike was wild at her neck, sucking and biting hard. Pain-laced pleasure surged through her body and buried itself in her lower belly, spiraling outward yet again in undying heat. She felt his fingers leave her and said, "Spike," with very definite plead in her voice. She'd never begged in her life.

Her kissed her roughly, virtually vibrating with tension. She felt herself go limp while he held her up, and then every muscle melted like butter as he ran the head of his erection against her. He brushed her clit, making Buffy shudder and cling to him, his voice ragged in her ear. "Bleedin' fuck you feel good. All warm an wet for me."

She opened her legs a little wider, beyond care at this point that she'd never done this before, her brain past the ability to acknowledge insecurities. All she wanted was him touching her, surrounding her, loving her.

She was slick and hot and needing him. Spike had an inkling though, in the very back of his mind, that she was new to this. She was fire personified, scorching him at every contact, but he wanted her spread out on a bed. Bare and dripping, needy with her arms reaching out towards him. So he pulled back, groaning at the effort and the loss, hot water from the shower feeling like ice compared to her warmth.

He ignored her whimper of complaint to kiss her instead, and managed to hold himself at the limit as he pulled away. She glided one brave hand down his abs to the hardest part of him, touching hesitantly until he took her hand, and looked her in the eye. "Not yet," Spike grunted, and ran his palm lazily over her body once again. Her nipples puckered for him, and he pinched them gently, watching her chest rise and fall with unsteady breaths.

He needed to touch every inch of her, lick the droplets off her skin and run suds over her body. And Spike intended to see every single need met before he had her.

He pulled her shirt off, and she was writhing within minutes.

He'd grabbed a bar of scented soap, proceeded to run it across her breasts, and then her stomach and thighs, dipping his fingers between her legs whenever he wished. Buffy whimpered and practically purred at the same time, as contented as she could be while burning up in his hands. He cleaned her with a reverence that made her shiver, the spicy mist from the soap and the steam invigorating. When his hands ran through her hair, massaging her scalp, her neck arched in a helpless invitation Spike took advantage of.

Her quiet cries were what did it the most, what turned his body into a hard vise of control. Buffy realized this, but could do nothing to help the murmurs she released, or the now frantic straining of her body. She took the bar of soap from its shelf again and ran it over Spike's chest, kneading in suds as they collected over his abs and dripped down, down, down...

A growl tore harshly from his throat as she ran her hot little hands over him; his fingers tightened in her hair. He directed her under the spray of water, rinsing the soap away as she finished with the bar on his body. Water cascaded down their entwined figures, legs linked and lips meeting fiercely.

Spike turned off the shower quickly, picking Buffy up. "Wrap your legs around me," he murmured urgently, and she did. He carried her dripping body from the sweltering room and to his bed, kissing her shoulder that was level with his mouth, listening to her uneven breaths that flitted by his ear like a sweet favorite song.

He laid her down on the soft burgundy comforter, and slid her head to the pillows, blonde locks dampening them. Spike kissed her desperately, realizing the need to be inside her at its depth. She was arching up to meet him, her naked, lithe form pressing against his abdomen, her rich scent running along his body. He ran a hand down her belly to the coarse curls at her apex, and while he mauled her lips, slipped one finger inside her again.

She was molten to him, silky and scorching, sweetly tempting. He wanted to taste her, wanted to lick and know every lovely secret of her body. He would, but as he pulled back for her to have air, watching Buffy's face as her mouth parted in pleasure, the thing he needed the most right then was to possess her. In the most carnal, promising way.

He couldn't claim her yet. Spike knew that even as he bit at her neck with human teeth in self-teasing agony; but in every other way she'd be his. He drew her thighs farther apart, allowing his erection to touch her once again, the heat a welcoming pleasure. He pushed gently, his control tight like the muscles in his body, and then pressed his forehead to hers. Their eyes met and held; breath mingled, one's hot the other's cold.

"If you're gonna tell me to stop, do it now," Spike said roughly.

Buffy swallowed hard, no question or doubts coming to her mind. She knew this was important; it was to her, it was to Spike. She sensed it, felt it as clearly as she felt him nestled between her legs, closer than anyone had ever been to her in body and in heart.

She bent her knees and lifted her feet, pushing against him gently in silent urging. She felt him wrap an arm about her waist and pick her up slightly, and her thighs parted more instinctively. The head of him slipped past her folds, her breath caught, and he pushed inside; her chest heaved painfully with every further inch.

Spike closed his eyes tightly, burying his face in her throat. Harsh breaths hit her skin as he tried to maintain control of himself, forcing slowness when his body demanded to be fully sheathed. He wanted to be so deep inside her she'd feel empty when he wasn't. He wanted her needing him as badly as he knew he would need her surrounding him after tonight; all the time, every second he wasn't a part of her.

Buffy fought the instinct to stiffen her body, her limbs laying open and relaxed while she forced herself not to tense, even as the delightful burn increased, becoming too much. It started to hurt, stretching her until tears leaked down her temples. She bit her lip but couldn't help the harsh sound she made when he thrust completely in, filling her entirely and yet more.

He looked up finally, and cursed softly at the small streaks of tears on her face. He'd had a feeling, but now the proof was in front of him, and elation warred with self disgust. He kissed her cheeks gently, breathing raggedly and keeping utterly still even as he said, "M'sorry, Buffy." He kissed away a new tear, his heart clenching as he looked into her glassy green eyes. "I didn' wanna hurt you, I'm sorry." His hand went to the back of her head, holding her still, resisting the urges brought on by the tips of her breasts hitting his chest with every harsh, deep breath she took.

Buffy shook her head slightly, and just barely whispered, "I've never done this before."

Her tone, quiet and raspy, sent a wave of protectiveness through him. Lust pounded in his veins, his cock was heavy and inside her, and his heart was utterly lost. Spike gulped down a hard swallow and clenched his jaw before saying, "I had a feelin, but didn' know til..." His voice changed to as even as he could make it. "Do you want me to stop?" he choked.

Buffy knew how much torture that would be for him without the look of restraint on his features. And even with the hurt, she wanted this, and delaying it would only frustrate them both; she needed him. God, she needed him. So she shook her head, and urged him yet again with her heels, lifting upward the tiniest bit.

Spike groaned at the movement, the agreement. His hips moved without thought, and he caught her wince. His nostrils flared. "I'll be quick," he said raggedly, his body taking pleasure while his heart hurt.

She just wrapped her arms around him and held on, both their faces buried in each other's throats. His harsh breaths beat against her neck while every thrust made her lose hers.

Spike grabbed onto her tightly, leaving no room between their slick bodies as he filled her over and over again. Passion heightened, her scent and the way she held him making it feel as if his heart was racing.

"It's never been this way," he said, "Never... Christ, Buffy..." And he kissed her, hard and lovingly, distracting her in the best way he could. His body moved faster, hers lifting up for him in trusting offer, and his breaths became quicker until she felt him spill inside her. The emotion that welled up made her hug him closer, never needing anything in the world from him if he would just always trust her to hold him this way, and treat her the way he always did. Like he loved her.

There was enough sense left in his mind to drop slightly to the side instead of falling on top of her. But he didn't leave her body, didn't move away. Spike slowly came back to himself as they both caught their breath, all the while still holding her, and she holding him.
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END NOTES: Sex scenes are always very hard to write for me, so I'd love some feedback! Please and thank you, and I promise to try very hard and make sure the next chapter is here at the latest in two weeks time. :)





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