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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to eman and beans for their wonderful betas
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ground was cold and hard against Buffy's side as she awoke; the thin bedroll provided very little cushioning. She couldn’t tell what time it was—although she guessed a few hours before dawn, as it was still dark, but the moon hung low in the sky.

She wiggled a bit, trying to find a more comfortable spot, and felt a sharp rock or twig poking into her hip. Something else, equally as hard and even more insistent, was poking into the small of her back.

With a sleepy yawn and a sigh, Buffy snuggled back against Spike's chest. Even asleep, his soft snores rustling the hair on her neck, he was hard for her. Buffy couldn't help but smile and chuckle, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from waking him.

One of his arms was tight about her waist, the fingers of his hand curled softly against her ribs, his knuckles brushing the underside of her breast. His other arm was curled up under her head, allowing Buffy to use his bicep as her pillow. It was a nice way to wake up and an equally wonderful way to fall asleep.

It had been a long time since she'd felt this good . . . this cared for. It wasn't just the great sex; more than that, she hadn't felt what she'd had with Spike last night since her time with Angel. Spike had taken care of her last night, like he'd been taking care of her since they'd arrived in this time. It had been strangely liberating to not have to worry about being too strong, too powerful . . . too much. To just be Buffy.

She hadn't realized how much she'd been holding back in life, with Riley, with her family, with her friends. She was always so worried that she'd hurt them or lead them into a situation they couldn't handle. Or worse still, one she couldn't handle.

As much as she cared for Riley, as much as she trusted him, she was always afraid that no matter how hard she tried, she'd never be the woman he needed. She often found herself backing off, trying to make sure that he didn't feel less of man because she was the Slayer. When your girlfriend could kick your butt six ways to Sunday, it wasn't easy holding on to your masculine pride. Buffy got that; she really did. But that understanding didn't make it easy. Sometimes she just wanted Riley to forget about who she was, what she was, and just treat her like a woman—not someone that he had to compete with in the training room and worry over in the bedroom.

He loved her; Buffy knew this. But he didn't really know her. In a fight, he had to be her equal, getting just as many punches in, just as many kills. In bed, it was as if she were his goddess, ever on a pedestal, worshipped, but at arm's length. It wasn't that he was an inattentive lover; he was incredibly tender, startling at times in his awe of her, the way he cherished her. Always sweet and gentle and nice.

But last night Buffy realized that sweet and gentle and nice wasn't always enough; wasn't always what she needed. Last night, Spike had taught her that. Taught her by taking her and holding her making her his. He hadn't been worried about hurting her or her hurting himself. He seemed to know, instinctively, that she'd needed someone else to hold the power last night. And he'd held it, and held her, pushing her past the borders she'd set for herself. The rules had all changed in one night.

It had been incredible. Nerve shattering, toe-tingling, and mind-blowing, and they'd only made love once. Okay, the ending had been a bit of a shocker. Buffy had never once considered the ramifications of their new situation beyond want, take, have. Thank God Spike had thought of that possibility. Buffy shuddered at the thought of having to deal with a pregnancy, in this time, along with everything else they were facing..

A hand cupped her breast, as soft lips brushed against her ear, whispering, "Uh-uh, no bad thoughts."

Buffy, startled, tried to look up over her shoulder at him. "I'm not . . . I didn't know you—" Her voice hitched as his fingers teased her nipple, his lips now nibbling along her neck. His hips gave a little thrust, the hardness of his cock rubbing against the bare skin of her back. ". . . were awake. I wasn't—"

"Don't lie to me, Slayer." Spike's voice was gruff, his breath warm on her skin. "Could feel you get all tense against me. Know you well enough to know your brain was kickin' into gear and makin' you question things you should just be enjoyin'."

Buffy pulled her lower lip between her teeth, the feel of his body against hers and his lips on her neck was making it hard to form a coherent thought, much less words. At last she said, "Don't call me that."

Spike stopped kissing her and she could see him out of the corner of her eye, looking down at her. "What? You mean 'Slayer'?"

"Yes." Buffy nodded. "I'm not—"

"Sure you are." He went back to kissing her neck and shoulder. "Always have been, always will be. No matter where you are, no matter what happens, the Slayer bit will always be a part of you. Just like me. Even with a heart beat and takin' in the sunlight, part of me will always be a vamp."

"No—"

"Yeah. . ." Spike nipped at her neck to prove his point. "But if you like it better, I'll call you Buffy. Or luv, or pet, or . . . sweetheart." At the last endearment, his hand drifted down over her stomach, a finger delving briefly into the hollow of her belly-button, before settling into the curls between her legs.

He must have felt the shiver that ran down her spine, because he ground himself against her ass and growled into her ear, "Buffy."

His finger circled her clit and then dipped lower. She was wet already—she had been since she'd awoken to find him holding her, his cock hard against her. His fingers felt slick against her flesh as she looked back at him again, needing to see his face as he touched her like this. He kissed her then, he tongue pushing into mouth in rhythm with his fingers moving in and out of her.

She moaned into his mouth, trying to twist around to face him, but he held her tight. His hand strayed from her wetness; slippery fingers trailing down the inside of her thigh as he gripped her there, raising her leg up and back over his own. With a smooth move of his hips down and forward, he slid the long hard length of his cock into her, the sudden fullness making her gasp.

"There," he grunted. "That should calm you down."

Buffy took a deep breath, trying to focus on getting air in and out of her lungs, but it was no use; the only thing she could focus on was the slip and slide of Spike's cock in and out of her. "Re . . . Relax ? Are. You. Kidding?"

As Spike's fingers dug into the flesh of her upper leg. His other arm snaked under her and curved around her waist, holding her as he thrust. While his voice was gravely and he was panting, his tone was casual. "I know you, Slayer, from the top of your gorgeous head to the tips of you dainty little toes. Been studying you long enough, yeah? You're like a thoroughbred."

Buffy stiffened in his arms a bit. "Wait. You're saying I'm a horse?"

Spike chuckled, his chest moving against her back. "You're like any other high strung animal, pet. You need to be run hard. Work out all those kinks." At the last word he drove strongly into her, his hand, splayed across her abdomen, holding her steady.

"Kinks?" Buffy's voice rose in pitch as Spike's thrusts grew stronger.

He outright laughed this time, warm and low, and somewhere deep within Buffy she felt something give way, as if she were melting around him. The feel of his arms, the hard length of his cock, the warm breath of him on her shoulder; it was suddenly all too much, and yet, at same time, not enough.

"Not those kinda kinks, luv. But. . ." Spike swirled his hips and Buffy let out a groan in response, "we can talk about those later. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. A thoroughbred: that's what you are—through and through. Sometimes skittish and temperamental, but in the end, good breeding always shines through."

"Oh, oh—" Buffy's breathing was shallow, her heart pumping fast in her chest, but all that really seemed to matter was Spike inside her, his voice growling in her ear, his fingers digging into her thigh. "I know . . . I know I should be taking offense to this. You know, being compared to livestock and all. But . . . um right now? Not so much with the offended, and more with the . . . Oh. More."

"Want more, do you? Think I can handle that." Spike grunted and with one smooth move, he rolled her onto her belly. Before she could complain about the weight of him pressing her into the ground, he pulled out of her, coming up onto his knees between her outstretched legs. "Look at you," he said, leaning forward, slipping his hands beneath her abdomen and drawing her up onto her hands and knees, "all sleek skin and muscle. Yet round and plump, too. Nice and ripe and girly, jus' where you should be."

Stroking her sides, Spike's hands came at last to fondle her ass, squeezing and massaging her hips. "Gotta be in you again. Damn, but you're like a drug to me. Can never have enough of you." He gripped her hips with both hands and pulled her back onto his cock. "Christ, you're luscious. Could stay inside your cunt forever."

As Spike pushed into her again, Buffy dropped to her elbows, her forehead dipping to the ground. In this position, each thrust of his cock bumping her cervix, the pressure was intense. She didn't know whether to cry out for him to stop, or to go harder.

She must have groaned, because his paced slowed. "Am I hurting you?" he asked, his voice concerned as he ran a hand along her hip and up her side.

"No. God, no." The sound rushed from her and she didn't recognize her own voice; hoarse and husky with lust and desperation. He. Must. Not. Stop. With each stoke, Buffy could feel herself loosen, opening for him, wet and slick. Her thighs trembled and the muscles in her abdomen clenched, tightening, as he pulled almost completely out of her and plunged back in.

The slap of his balls against her clit were soon joined by the fingers of his left hand and with just a few deft strokes, she came hard, clutching the blankets and screaming Spike's name. But even as her pussy spasmed around him, as the coil of energy released and relaxed in her stomach, she knew she wanted more; needed more.

With more energy than she thought she possessed, she pulled herself off Spike's cock, turning to face him. Hitting him square in the shoulders with the heels of her hands, he toppled onto his back, sprawled before her, his erection glistening against abdomen.

For a long moment, they watched each other, her crouching at his feet, him, laid back, his eyes hooded, biting his full lower lip in that teasing way that made her squirm. When at last he quirked an eyebrow at her, she crawled up his body to straddle this thighs.

She meant for this to be sexy, wanton, and wild—to just have her way with him, as he had done with her, but her legs were still trembling from the aftermath of her orgasm and her hands were shaking as she took hold of his cock, attempting to angle it toward her. Spike didn't help matters when he smiled that wicked smile of his, pressing his tongue behind his upper teeth.

When her second attempt to mount him went slightly to the left and behind her, Spike grasped the base of his cock, his fingers curling over hers, and put his other hand on her hip, guiding her home. "There, luv, sink down on—oh, fuck!"

Buffy may have been tipsy with post-orgasmic bliss, and she might not have been the slayer any longer, but she still had incredible muscle control and she used every bit of it on Spike as she slid down his shaft. At the look on his face—his eyes closed, his lower lips drawn between his teeth—she laughed, tossing her now damp and tousled hair back over her shoulders. Arching her back and presenting what she knew was a fabulous view of her breasts, she moved slowly back up the length of him, until she grasped just the tip of his erection within her.

Spike opened his eyes, his hands reaching for her hips to push her back down, and so began the rhythm. Buffy covered his hands with her own, caressing his long fingers, then moved to the flexing muscles of his forearms, the bulge of bicep, until at last she reached his shoulders. Leaning forward, her nipples grazing his chest, she kissed him.

His tongue swept against her own as his hips bucked beneath her. Each thrust and pull sent exquisite pulses to her clit and deep inside her. She knew she was close to climaxing again, could feel the gathering of tension. Pulling her mouth free of his, she sat up, her fingers moving to her clit. "Oh, yes. Spike. Oh, God." She looked down to find him watching her, his hands clutching the blankets, knotting them in his fists as if to keep himself anchored to the ground.

With a final stroke to her clit and jerk of Spike's hips, she came, her world once against bursting into shards of pleasure, welling up into her chest and down into her thighs.

When coherent thought at last returned, Buffy looked down to find Spike seated deep within her, his hand nestled in her pubic curls. Was he trying to bring her off again? Impossible, she was limp as a noodle. Then she realized that his fingers encircled his cock, squeezing the base in an attempt to keep from coming.

Buffy quickly pulled off him, kneeling between his legs, pushing him aside to grasp the length of him in her two hands. Leaning in, she swirled her tongue around the tip of his penis.

"Oh, God. Buffy. Yes, luv, yes."

The muscles in Spike's legs tensed, his abs drawing in. Engulfing as much of his cock as she could, her lips moved down the shaft, sucking strongly as she came back up to the head. One more swirl of her tongue, her lips lingering on the head, and Spike came, his hips bucking, his hands slipping through her hair, caressing her until he finished.

At last, releasing him from her mouth, Buffy rested her cheek next to his softening cock and smiled up at him. He seemed so spent, so totally wrung out. Stretched out before her, an arm flung over his eyes, he was smiling, but every other muscle in his body seemed to have fired and gone limp. She glanced at his penis, then back up to his face, and felt a surge of womanly pride.

He must have felt her eyes upon him, or perhaps it was her toying with his cock, but after a few moments Spike propped himself up on his elbows, peering down at Buffy with something akin to amazement on his face.

"Look at you!" He laughed, his hand coming to rest in her hair, pushing it back from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "My beautiful girl. All flushed and fucked and grinning like the Cheshire cat, with my cream all over her chin."

She laughed then too. "Oh, Spike. How can you make something so crude, sound so, well, hot?"

"It's a gift." He shrugged, opening his arms to her. "Now come here."

She moved into his embrace, stretching out beside him, their skin sliding sensuously together. His hand went to her breast. "Not again?" Buffy looked expectantly into his eyes.

"What?" Spike's eyes widened, then he smiled. "No, luv. Maybe before. In fact, no maybe about it. If I was still a vamp, that, little girl, would have simply been the warm-up. I'd still be fucking you, having you beg me for mercy, making you come over and over." He nodded, ducking in to nip at her lips. "Yeah, if I could, I'd still be in that hot little cunt of yours, or that lovely mouth, or maybe even that sweet—"

"Spike," Buffy gasped, grabbing at the hand that had slipped down to cup her ass. "You're incorrigible."

He pressed his lips her neck. "Well, you can encourage me all you want, but I'm human now, and it seems once I pop, takes me a while to rise to the next occasion."

Buffy sighed. "That's okay, we should probably talk anyway."

Spike looked down at the serious expression on her face and smirked. "Yeah. Especially about this." He ran a thumb along the curve of her lip, before sucking it into his mouth.
.
Buffy scrunched her face up and shook her head. Spike just tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow at her. "As much as the human male survival instinct I'm now favored with is urging me to fill you up with little babies, we have to be careful."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, I get that. But you pulling out, is that the best way—"

"Nope. Far from it, in fact. You know as well as I do I can still get you up the spout even if I don't finish in you. But even if we had them—which we don't—condoms in this era? Not very effective and even less pleasant."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Ewwwww… what did people do?"

"They had babies, luv. Lots of babies.

"Well," she sighed, "one more thing to worry about. And speaking of things to worry about, hadn't we best be on our way? Not that I wouldn' t love to stay here cuddling with you all day."

Slowly Spike rolled Buffy over onto her back, resting his weight heavily upon her. "Not exactly a cuddlin' kinda bloke, luv." When he pulled back he gave her a sly smile and began to move down her body until his chin rested on her mons. Rubbing his cheek against the still wet curls, he said, "Still early. Not even daylight yet. Think we can spend a few more minutes lazyin' about." He nipped at the soft skin at the apex of her thighs. "Besides, somthin' I've been dying to taste since the day I first laid eyes on you."

As he lowered his mouth to her clit, Buff gasped, arching back. “Oh. Oh. Oh, my god!”

To Be Continued





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