Buffy found it harder and harder to stay grounded and not lose herself completely to his gentle touches and whispered devotions.  The single tether binding her to reality almost snapped when he asked if he could take her to bed in order to worship her properly. 
 
She must have said “Yes,” because the next thing she realized, he’d swept her up into his arms all Harlequin-novel-like, and whisked her to the other side of the crypt before jumping down through a hole in the floor.
 
Down the rabbit’s hole with Alice—
 
He landed gracefully, then lowered her feet to the floor with equal care.  She still couldn’t shake this silly little thought, regardless of the overwhelmingly romantic ambiance of the soft glow from several scattered candles and the massive bed adorned with black silk sheets.
 
Spike’s arms encircled her waist, and he leaned forward to recapture her lips, but stopped when noticing her trying to stifle laughter.  His scarred brow rose in question.
 
“Luv, it tends to wound a man’s pride, giggling before he takes you to bed.”
 
“Sorry, it’s just I was thinking how I was brought down the rabbit’s hole by Alice,” Buffy giggled, while smoothing her hands over his chest in a tender gesture.

“Well, no worries.  Unlike that silly bird, I don’t need teacakes with frosted lettering to tell me to eat you.”  Spike playfully growled and nipped at her throat.
 
“Eww—pig much?” Buffy scrunched her nose in telltale distaste, but her coquettish grin gave away her true thoughts.
 
“Fine, perhaps I should offer up my services elsewhere.”  Feigning hurt, Spike tried to release his grip, only to be stopped by Buffy’s hands clasping his wrists, stilling him.
 
“Don’t you dare go anywhere!” Her tone held an overall lightheartedness with a faint hint of underlying seriousness.
 
“Ooh—kitten has claws.”
 
“You better believe it!  Especially when it comes to what is mine.”
 
Both stared at one another wearing equally stunned expressions.  That was until it all became too much, and Buffy needed to look away.  The silence stretched between them until she finally found her voice, but her eyes remained downcast.
 
“Um—what I meant—see, I don’t think—well, you’re not mine in the sense of actually belonging—"
 
Spike placed his fingers to her chin and tenderly guided her gaze to his, which instantly hushed her rambling.
 
“Buffy, I am yours.  That’s if you’ll have me.”
 
Spike regarded her in a way that no man had ever done, in total acceptance and admiration.  This nearly brought Buffy to tears, but before the water works started, she gently cupped his face and placed a chaste kiss to his slightly parted lips.
 
“Make love to me, Spike.”
 
A soft moan was his only reply when he scooped her up as he did earlier, brought his lips back to hers, and strode to his bed.  When he shifted to place her on the mattress, Buffy tensed in his arms, stilling him.
 
“Luv?”
 
“Do you think, um, maybe we can change the sheets?  Since you and Harmony, well—” Buffy gestured toward the bed, her nose scrunched up, but unlike before this time it was in real disgust.
 
“I didn’t shag Harmony.  I’m not going to lie.  I wanted to.  But certain parts didn’t want to comply.”  Spike raised his brows, clearly trying to hint to what he was referring to without actually saying it.
 
“Oh—Ohh.  So is rising to the occasion usually a problem for you or…”  Buffy stifled her giggle, trying to appear sincere but failing miserably.
 
Without a word, Spike shifted and situated her until her legs were wrapped around his waist.  With his hands under her bottom, he raised his hips, so the aforementioned part rubbed intimately against her.
 
Gah!  Clearly not a problem at all!
 
“Mmm—I guess he does seem to have a mind of his own.  In this case, I should thank him for wanting only the best.  That’s you, Buffy.”  Before she could respond, Spike recaptured her mouth.
 
Buffy was startled momentarily, then melted into the kiss with a pleasured moan.  She wrapped her arms around his neck more tightly, dropped her legs from his hips, and guided them down onto the mattress.
 
With Buffy lying beneath him, Spike braced himself on his forearms while their mouths dueled, as her hands eagerly swept along his upper body.  When her fingers brushed against his nipples, she heard a responsive moan.  Boldly, she retraced the path using her nails.  This earned her a deep growl, and his mouth lowered to her throat, where he proceeded to sensuously tease its sensitive length.     
 
She felt him shifting off to her side to allow room for his hands to join in the exploration.  Even with his all-consuming kisses, his touch was tender, almost hesitant.  With each item of clothing he removed, he stopped to admire another span of skin revealed to him, all the while murmuring endearments.
 
Every part of her from her “dainty but powerful hands” to the surprisingly sensitive arch of her foot, he worshiped.  Spike finally ended this blissful torment when Buffy was clad only in panties and a matching black lace bra.
 
She’d been on the verge of climax for so long; she was nearly out of her mind with lust.  With her eyes closed, it took a few moments for Buffy to come down from those heights and realize he’d stopped touching her and was now standing beside the bed.
 
She felt his heated gaze roaming over her body, but she couldn’t look at him quite yet.  Even after all they had done, she still feared this wasn’t real and that he was now wearing the classic smug smirk that accompanied all the times he pulled one over on her.  She knew if this were the case, she would surely fall to pieces.  Undeniably she needed to face him, so she gathered up her courage and opened her eyes.
 
She noticed instantly he wasn’t wearing a smirk.  Actually, he wasn’t wearing anything at all.  Buffy was in total awe at the sight.  He was stunning.  His body was muscular but not bulky, more sleek and lithe.  His pale skin reminded her of marble—pale and hard, with every slight imperfection making him uniquely beautiful.
 
She swelled with womanly pride watching him barely containing himself.  Without a word, his body was screaming for hers, from his unneeded quick breaths and the flashes of gold in his deep blue eyes, to his cock appearing to tic in time with her racing heartbeat.  He appeared to only be waiting for her acceptance.
 
Buffy held her hand out to him, and he clasped it in his own.  He tenderly kissed her knuckles, moved to her wrist, and lingered on her pulse point before leisurely trekking higher. 
 
Her eyes fluttered closed, savoring each soft brush of his lips.  She felt the bed dip under his weight and while he moved across her collarbone, Buffy weaved her fingers into the unfettered hair at the base of his skull and directed his mouth back to hers.
 
Buffy hungrily savored his lips before skillfully rolling their bodies until she was astride his lap, with her clothed mound surrounding his cock.  Buffy planted her hands on his chest and swiveled her hips.

“Naughty little minx.”
 
After several passes, her eyes fluttered closed.  Spike used this to his advantage by grabbing her hips and rolling them over once more.  Instinctually, she splayed her thighs to accommodate him, and once he was settled, she wrapped her legs around him.
 
Spike returned to lavishing her neck with kisses and nips while he rocked his hips unhurriedly, creating a delicious friction.
 
“Please, Spike—please—”
 
“Let me give you what you need, sweetheart.”  Spike rumbled these words against her ear, and she could only whimper in response.
 
He pulled back slightly, releasing the front clasp of her bra.  With tedious slowness, he dragged aside one silky cup then the other, causing her nipples to pucker.  Even though her whole body buzzed with pleasure, she still craved more.

“Spike, stop teasing and touch me.”  Her voice roughened with desire triggered Spike’s classic panty-dampening tongue and teeth tuck.
 
“Where?  Here?”
 
Teasingly, Spike’s finger circled around her navel, before trailing in the valley of her breasts and lazily running it along her collarbone.

“Please, touch my—”
 
Buffy’s cheek flushed with embarrassment.  She was never really vocal during sex, but it seemed that Spike was.  No surprise there.
 
“You need to be a tad more specific, luv.  Tell me, Buffy.  Tell me where and how you want me to touch you.”
 
She shivered from his growled command.  When she hesitated, he started to shift and move away.
 
“Touch—touch my breasts.”
 
Spike changed direction and now hovered over her at eye level.
 
“With—” This single word coaxed her answer.
 
“Your hands, your mouth—please, I’m begging you just—”
 
Buffy’s words stilled in her throat and were replaced by an ecstatic, “Yes!” when he deftly circled one breast with his tongue as his fingers mirrored the action on its twin.

Never before had anyone known her body so well.  Now the only thing of importance was that Spike continued to make her body sing.  Every sweep of his hands, every brush of his lips, made her fall apart just a little more.

Spike lavished attention on her breasts with both his mouth and hands unrelentingly.  His touch was maddening, but at the same time exquisite.  When Buffy felt Spike’s tongue lapping the underside of her breast then trailing downward, her hips rose on their own accord, guiding him where she craved him to go.
 
She felt his deep-throated chuckle vibrating against her stomach.  When he reached her panties, he dotted kisses along the edge before mouthing her through the fabric.
 
When he closed his mouth over her clothed sex and suckled, she instantly wailed her release.  Spike prolonged her earth-shattering climax by pulling her panties taut until the black fabric made a thin line pressing against her clit as his tongue worked her into frenzy.
 
Buffy shook as her second orgasm crested and washed over her, as she felt Spike fisting and removing her panties with one quick yank.  Any complaint to be made about destroyed panties was lost as she cried out when his mouth returned to her body.  
 
He switched between worrying her clit with his teeth and running his tongue over her swollen lips and suckling.  He brought her again and again to the brink of her third climax yet never let her fall.
 
“Spike—”
 
In a flurry of motion, Spike was hovered above her, his eyes gazing intently into hers.
 
“Buffy, let me in.  Please.”
 
In response, she reached down, grasped his cock, and guided the belled head to brush against her opening.  Neither spoke a word, but their eyes spoke volumes.
 
Spike then shifted and slowly inch by inch, entered her.  When he was finally fully seated, they remained still just savoring one another, until Buffy grasped the two round fleshy globes of his ass and rolled her hips urging him to move.
 
His pace started with slow and deep measured thrusts.  Each stroke fed the lovers’ desire for more.  Soon the room was filled with the steady rhythm of flesh meeting flesh and exchanged words expressing heightened pleasure.
 
Their mouths crashed and devoured while their hands roamed and clutched.  Deftly, she wrapped her legs tighter around him and rolled them over, as she reached for the zenith of her climax.
 
In this new position, Buffy felt so full.  Soon they found a pace that struck her clit with every down-stroke, as Spike caressed her breasts.  Her mind and body hummed, but there was something missing.  When she focused on his face, she knew instantly the answer.  Spike was battling against his demon’s need to emerge.     
 
Without any thought, she knew deep down what she needed to do.  Buffy slowed her movements, gathered her hair, and moved it to the side, baring her neck.
 
When she had his full attention, using the sharp edge of her nail, she scored her neck, right above her pulse point, drawing blood.  Buffy wet her fingertips in the wound, then brought her fingers to his mouth and painted his lips with what she knew the demon craved.
 
Unable to hold his demon at bay any longer, Spike grabbed her fingers and drew them inside his mouth to clear away the blood.  Once laved clean, he removed her fingers.  
 
“Buffy?” The uncertainty in his voice nearly broke her.
 
“I want you, all of you.  William, Spike, and the demon.”
 
Following her admission, Buffy leaned forward and kissed him passionately.  Her tongue darted into his mouth and ran along one fang, drawing more blood.
 
Spike suckled her tongue, and in a flurry of motions, he rolled them and drove deep inside her.  The new pace he set was blissfully animalistic.  Buffy held on tightly and offered her neck to her demon lover.
 
“Drink.”
 
Spike growled and latched his mouth over the small wound.  When she felt his fangs entering her gently, Buffy instantly shattered into orgasm.  While she rode out her climax, the need to bring him with her was so great she reacted by sinking her teeth into the juncture between his shoulder and neck.
 
Spike growled and released her neck.  With two more brutal thrusts, he roared his completion.  His thrusts slowed, until they finally stopped.
 
Sated, he collapsed on top of her, his unneeded breath rasping loudly in her ear.  Buffy ran her fingers through his hair, further releasing the trapped curls.       
 
“Spike?”  Buffy pressed a kiss to his forehead, and she shifted her body, trying to jostle the vamp lying on top of her.
 
“Mmm?”  His response muffled from his face smooshed into the pillows.
 
“Breathing—issue…”
 
“Oh, sorry!”  Now in human guise, Spike rolled off her, wrapped his arm around her and gathered a clearly ravished Buffy to his side.
 
Buffy traced small patterns on his chest while Spike soothingly dragged his fingers along her back eliciting small shivers.
 
“Cold, sweetheart?”  Before she could respond, Spike used his free hand and wrapped them in the silky sheet.
 
“Buffy, not complaining, but why did you…” Spike left the rest unsaid, knowing full-well she knew what he was asking.
 
She shifted slightly, folded her hands on his chest, and rested her chin on top, her gaze meeting his.
 
“Spike, I didn’t do any of this ‘cause I had to, I did it ‘cause I wanted to.  For me, for us.”
 
“There’s an us now?” He raised his scarred brow in question.
 
“Well—um, if you want—not trying to tell you what to do…” Buffy rambled, which felt even more awkward with the nakedness.
 
“First, you bossy bint, you’re always telling me what to do, so don’t try stopping now.” This earned him a light swat to the chest and a playfully indignant “Hey!” before he continued,  “Second, as I said before, ‘m yours if you’ll have me.  Hell, I don’t rightly remember anything else that I ever wanted more than for there to be an us.”  
 
Buffy’s pout melted into a smile, and Spike leaned forward intending to press a kiss to her lips.  He stopped mid-descent when she yawned.
 
“Sleep now, kitten.  I have many plans involving you and me, so you need rest.”
 
“Are these naked plans?” Buffy laid her cheek on his chest, her voice sleepily slurring.
 
“You know me too well.  Now sleep.”  Spike pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.
 
“But I’m not tired, I’m…”
 
The last of her words drifted off as sleep took her over.  Spike soon followed her into a peaceful slumber.