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a/n-many thanks to BlueIrish and Beanmommy for the plot guidance! And a HUGE bunch of thanks to the beta'ing of Spikeskat who helped this chapter you have noooooooooooooooooooooooo idea how much!!!!
Chapter 8

Firm, determined mouth lips devoured hers as his hands lifted towards her face to cup her jaw. Her lips parted without hesitation. Angling his head slightly, Spike boldly plunged his tongue inside her mouth, eager to reacquaint himself with every minute texture of her mouth.


    ‘Whoa! Was it getting hot in here?’ Buffy thought fleetingly. Her skin seemed to radiate heat as she succumbed to the intensity of his kisses, and found herself clamoring towards the cooling relief his bare skin could provide. Spike released his hold on her face and slipped his arms around her back, pulling her firmly against his hard length. She gasped into his mouth as she felt his hands pull at her top, exposing her heated flesh to the cool air. Then his fingers danced along her bare stomach, his thumbs grazing the underside of her breast.

She was so liking the vampire thing right about now. The coolness of his hands felt decidedly wicked as they trailed across her burning skin, the sharp contrast in temperatures causing goose bumps to break out along her stomach. Buffy sighed in pure pleasure as Spike's hands molded around her aching overly-full breasts, instinctively arching her body against them. What she didn't expect was for Spike to jerk back and stare suspiciously at her heaving cleavage still hidden by her shirt. Ok, so not what she thought second base would be like. She was kind of expecting something... a bit more with the lusty and less with the suspicious.
 

She was trying to figure out what his damage was, when Buffy suddenly realized what had prompted his reaction. What the HELL had she been thinking? Why had she insisted on wearing a backless halter -top tonight? Oh, right! She was an idiot. Hey, can't say she wasn't anything but consistent. Another “blonde moment” had been taken hold when she had chosen her attire for tonight -and what to wear underneath. Her mind had only seen fit to consider Spike's approval for the slip of silken absolutely-nothings she had slipped over her hips, and had totally abandoned her for other important considerations…say, of the lingerie she would need to wear to pull off the look.
 

Only one thing to do. Play it off. Because really, didn't EVERYONE wear these? Weren't they like, totally necessary pieces of fashion? Yeah, that's what she thought.
 

"What?"
 

"They're squishy." He eyed her chest warily, as if he were expecting her boobs to suddenly jump out of her shirt and attack him. Please! And he called himself a Master Vampire?
 
  
Buffy glanced down at her chest, a cross between indignation and paranoia playing across her features. Realizing that everything was in place and as it should be, she raised her head to glare at him. Her mind played over what should be happening right now: kissing, kissing was definitely of the good; then something else… Nowhere in her fantasies did Spike appear... aghast at her lingerie. This little scenario they were currently enacting wasn't supposed to be part of the seduction scene. Argh!. Why was it that nothing EVER went easy for her? Did she have a sign pasted on her forehead that said, “Hey, I’m the slayer. Let’s make things as difficult as possible. Sure I can take it.”


Pasting an outraged look upon her face, she denied heatedly, "No, they're not!"



"They don't feel right."  His pointed stare was starting to seriously piss her off, causing Buffy to go on the offensive.
 

"Spike, they're ‘sticky boobs’. Do you have a problem with my sticky boobs?" The tone of her voice just dared the vampire to have a problem with them.
 


"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Sticky boobs? The slayer had definitely lost him now. They were squishy, not sticky, anyway.
 

Feelings of inadequacy slammed through her without thought or prejudice, flushing her cheeks the color crimson. Trying to rise above her discomfiture, she turned around so her bare back was revealed to his befuddled, probing eyes. "I'm wearing a backless shirt, see? Not exactly something I can wear a bra with. Hence, the sticky boobs."

Spike's lips quickly curled up into an amused smirk. Gesturing in the direction of her chest, he stated, "Clever thing, that. It's like a bra?"
 
 
"Yes, Spike. It's like a bra. There's a reason I called them sticky boobs, you know. Because they stick to my boobs." The sarcasm was rolling off her tongue in waves now. And she rolled her eyes at him, since her back was to him and he couldn't see what she was doing. What was he, twelve? For being on this Earth for over a hundred years, Spike wasn't too quick on the uptake.
 

"Well, let's get a gander at those little devils, shall we." That said, Spike slipped his arms around her middle and pulled Buffy back against him. She let out a slight squeak at the unexpected move, but did nothing to stop him, as his hands once again made the sinful journey under the silky confines of her halter top. The tip of his tongue slipped out between his lips the moment his hands curled around her “sticky boob”- clad breasts. Now he could discern just what she was talking about, the squishy cups that stuck to her skin were pushing her breasts up. Bloody fabulous invention.

   
Buffy's reaction was instantaneous; a delicious shiver that racked her body, as a surge of fire shot through her veins. Damn! She was getting hot all over again, as she stood there basking in the feel of Spike's cool skin against hers. She knew her heart beat was echoing the desire flooding her body, she could hear it slamming against her chest in a frantic staccato. Her acute embarrassment fled in light of the spontaneous combustion she had just experienced, unconsciously arching into the hand that cupped her unique lingerie with such practiced ease. Wow, this was more like it. No more shocked Spike, just nice, yummy Spike...


"There we are," Spike murmured, his cool breath caressing the sensitized skin at her nape. His lips continued their path to the narrow hollow above her clavicle, and Buffy allowed her head to drop back against his chest in an unconscious declaration of trust. His words whispered along her flesh as he continued placing light kisses along her exposed neck.,


"These are real nice and all, but don't think we'll be needing them."
 

Spike's hand left her aching breasts and ventured to the ties at her neck that held the skimpy top in place.
 

And that's what brought Buffy crashing back to the Land of Reality. The stark actual concept of getting naked with Spike five steps past his front door just seemed... wrong somehow. Stupid Elizabeth, maybe she wasn't as gone as she had let Buffy believe. In fact, Buffy was sure Elizabeth had to be lurking around somewhere. Because really, it couldn't be Buffy who was finding herself becoming increasingly freaked at the thought of just ripping their clothes off in the middle of the room and going at it, could it? Yep, that damn Elizabeth. Not Buffy at all, nope not a bit. And not a bit of denial in there, either.
 

In a frantic plea to put an end to the delicious ravaging, and not lose her virginity in Spike's entry way in the process, Buffy found her hands flying up to grab hold of the wrists responsible for the major de-robing. "Coffee," she blurted over her shoulder, mentally cringing at the utter lameness of that statement.
 

Spike stilled his movements, and cocked his eyebrow up in that oh so damn sexy way. "Coffee." His tone indicated his disbelief at her left field request.
 

Drawing herself up, she brought his hands down from their attempted untie-age and turned around to face him. Nodding frantically, she said, "Yep, coffee. You know, nice caffeinated stuff? I could do with something good to the last drop right about now, and everything. Kind of, uh..., tired?" Ok, she was so losing it, there was no question. If Spike laughed her out of his house, she wouldn't even blame him. And wow, it was kind of a nice house at that, which was yet one more thing at odds with Spike. She expected something dark and sinister; not this this nice sleek and moderny thing.
 

A pure evil grin slithered across his luscious lips, and Spike wrenched his arms from her grasp and dug his fingers into her hips, jerking her hard against him. There was that bulge that was way too hard and prominent to ignore digging into her stomach, and she was held tight against it. There it was again, that confusion thing that was really starting to piss Buffy off, because he felt really good against her.
 

To her chagrin, she let out a very un-cool squeak of surprise at the sudden manhandling. Why did Schitzo Buffy keep rearing her ugly unwanted head? Why was she doing the freaking thing? It's not like she was about to lose her virginity to her mortal enemy in the middle of said mortal enemy's front room, or anything. Oh yeah. That's right. She did.


Spike began to roll his hips against her in a slow, sensual way that only served to heighten her anxiety and double her confusion. "If you're looking for something that's good to the last drop, luv, I've got something for ya," he announced wickedly, brushing the wisps of hair away framing her face, as he tried to capture her eyes.
 

Oh god! He was talking about that spermage thing! Schitzo Buffy was moving in for good now, no question about it. Sperm. Spike. Spike's sperm. Spike's sperm in her. Sperm of Spike on her. Sperm. Spike. Sperm. No more virgin Buffy. Sperm. Spike.

It was then it truly hit home what she was about to do, and Buffy eyes flitted everywhere except in the direction that Spike was trying to will them, as a sudden and totally unwanted case of embarrassment slammed into her. Why the hell was she acting this way? It HAD to be Elizabeth. Yep. Guess things were never messed up enough for her; she had to have an extra side of freak with her sex.
 

Spike picked up on her body's sudden request for more blood when her pulse rate suddenly sky rocketed, and took a moment to study her. Something was off, the bint was doing the hot/cold routine. She wouldn't even look at him now.
 

Taking a step back, he silently encased her hand in his, and led her into his favorite room, where his toys were. He realized she didn't even notice his grand displays of modern technology due to the fact the floor was too bloody well interesting. Well, time for that later.

Without letting her in on his intent, Spike threw himself on the rich leather sofa, tugging her along with him so that she was positioned comfortably on his lap.
 

But, as soon as her butt came into contact with his erection, she stiffened in his embrace, and tried to scoot off his lap to sit beside him. He was getting too angry to notice her reddening cheeks.
 

Spike growled, and held on, bringing her resistant back to settle against his chest. "You're not going anywhere, so I suggest you just get soddin' well comfortable."
 

Green eyes turned around to flash at him in anger, and it was then that he saw a glimpse of the problem. The girl was nervous. He was scaring her. Bloody hell. Well, wasn't that a kick in the pants? Who would have thought that someone with as much power and raw sexual energy as his Slayer, would be nervous? And with him? Truthfully, it stunned him. But he should have realized that for all of her self confidence, she was still a young girl. Very young. Probably too young, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. Swinging his legs up on the couch in a smooth easy move, he settled to lie on his back and stretched out, easing her to lie down with him. He noticed the tautness of her body, and began stroking her hair in soothing, gentle gestures, allowing the silence to stretch out between them. This is the part they had skipped, this getting comfortable with each other part, and he was a soddin git for not realizing it.


He was rewarded when he felt the muscles in her body lose their tense vigil, and she yielded to his ministrations, scooting her lithe, warm body around so she was snuggled against his chest.

'Ok, this was better', Buffy thought, getting a little insight into why cats purred when they were being petted. Because that's what she felt like doing, oh yeah, big time. Now this was relaxing. Feeling Spike's smooth, steady strokes just... petting her. This way she could be Avoidy Girl and not look at his face either, because she wasn't doing so hot with that one. Well, not that he wasn't HOT to look at, because he so was. She just didn't want him trying to read what was going on inside her head, when SHE didn't even know what was going on inside her head.

So, he wanted her to get comfortable? Oh she was comfortable all right. He made a nice, hard, muscular pillow. As in, veeeeeery muscular. She could feel all of that nice, sculpted, muscled goodness under her, and she had a sudden urge to check them out without the black t-shirt that kept them from her prying eyes. She bet he looked wicked good naked.

And there went her uncertainty again. She wanted him, but there was that... but hanging over her shoulder. Oh yeah, she had 'but face' but good.
"How old are you, luv? Seventeen?" The deep timbre of Spike's voice broke Buffy's reverie, and her eyes sprung open. Huh? Oh, change of topic. Wow, where had that question come from? He didn't know how old she was?

"Sixteen," Buffy mumbled, her eyes drifting shut once more .

He quickly pressed a fond kiss to the top of her head before asking, "You a virgin, luv?"

Spike could feel her body heat up with embarrassment, muscles becoming taut once more. Finally, she nodded warily against his chest.

Ah. So that's what the girl's problem was. He hadn't even considered that. "So what, ya didn't fancy being deflowered in my front room?"

A nervous giggle burst forth. "Who says deflowered anymore?"

Spike growled playfully. "You mocking my words again, pet?"

Buffy lifted her face up to meet his questioning eyes, and Spike was pleased to see a glint of humor returned. "Me? I mock nothing," she insisted.

"Better not."

This was more like it, Buffy thought. She liked doing this couple-y thing, it made her decision to be with him so much easier. His next words surprised her though, yet another thing that didn't fit with the stereotype of an evil vampire. "We don't have to do this, you know. We can take our time, and all. Not planning on going anywhere," he told her gently.

It was at that moment that Buffy realized just how much she did want Spike, all of him. That lingering but was no longer, well..., lingering. Her but had just been answered. She could see the blinding sincerity of his offer, and it was so at odds with what he was supposed to be, that Buffy fell just that much deeper into that scary Pit of Love. Ok, so guess it was time to let Action Buffy take over, and put Schitzo Buffy in her place. She could do it. First step, take a deep breath. Second step... do the asking.

Alright, easier said than done. Buffy was sooo going to have a severe talk with Action Buffy, because she was being all talk and no action, dammit.

Ok, one more try. Do the take a deep breath thing, and...

"So... wanna help me take off my sticky boobs?" she managed to ask.

Luckily for him, Spike was a bit more quick on the uptake this time. His evil smirk made its way onto his face, and he asked wickedly "Got someplace in mind, pet?"

"Uh... maybe, like... your bedroom?"


 

tbc...

a/n-No sticky boobs were harmed in the writing of this story. But, I do have to thank Dee5x5 for introducing me to sticky boobs and letting me play with hers at the Oakland con. :P





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