Buffy stretched as she woke, a contented smile on her face before she even opened her eyes. She could feel Spike's firm chest beneath her, could smell his scent all around her, and she loved it.

She rolled onto her side, taking the opportunity to inspect him while he slept. His pale skin was covered in small marks left by her teeth and nails, while the curls in his bleached hair were rumpled, her hands having freed them from their usual slicked-back style.

Buffy wondered if she could convince him to let her do his hair from now on...

But what she loved most were her marks—especially the very distinct bite mark on the side of his throat. He looked like hers, and she loved it.

She doubted he'd completely forgotten about his sire and former lover, but Buffy was determined that in time, Drusilla would be nothing more than a distant memory. She wanted Spike all to herself, wanted him to belong to her and no one else.

So she was a greedy little bitch, but hey—vampires didn't like to share.

She leaned in and licked his neck, her tongue moving over her bite mark. Spike moaned in his sleep, his cock growing harder and longer with every pass of her tongue. The effect she could have on him so easily delighted Buffy, gave her a sense of womanly power she'd never truly known in her human life.

When she noticed Spike didn't seem to be waking, Buffy decided to give it a little extra nudge. She rolled over again, her legs straddling his waist, then pulled up and guided his cock inside of her. The feel of him filling her was alone enough to make her moan, and she took a moment to let her body adjust before she began to move, riding him at a slow, leisurely pace

Spike groaned, Buffy's actions beginning to penetrate his brain through the haze of sleep. The sensation of her surrounding his cock pulled him into consciousness, and when he opened his eyes and saw her there, he groaned and thrust up.

"Good evening, sleepy head," Buffy said, her mouth quirking. "I was trying to wake you up."

Spike brought his hands to her hips, guiding her movements to gain in speed. "Yeah? Well, you picked a nice way to do that, pet."

"I thought so." She shimmied her hips and moaned. "You feel so good inside of me, Spike."

"Feels good to be inside." Spike panted as she began to ride him harder, her eyes locking with his.

She loved that she could make him forget he didn't need to breathe.

"More," Spike begged her. "Make it hurt, baby."

With a wicked grin in place, Spike knew Buffy was more than happy to oblige. She sped her hips up more, to a pace only a superhuman being could maintain, her inner muscles squeezing him ruthlessly as she did. She vamped out, watching through yellow eyes as she ran her sharp nails down his chest, tearing his flesh and bringing forth trails of blood. Spike groaned and brought his hands down to grip the sides of the sarcophagus they'd used for a bed, breaking off bits of it as he did.

The blood on his chest was more than Buffy could resist, and she dipped her head, licking it off of him with moans of pure bliss. Spike shook, his body balancing on the edge of orgasm, when Buffy moved her mouth to his chest and sunk her fangs in around his nipple.

Spike's hips shot up, a yell torn from his throat as he came hard. The feel of him slamming all the way into her sent Buffy spiraling over with him, screaming his name as she shook violently.

Finally, they collapsed in a heap on the sarcophagus, both of them panting heavily. Spike raised his hand, his fingers trembling as he stroked Buffy's hair. Bloody hell, she was…

"Amazing."

Buffy raised her head when he spoke and looked at him with hazy green eyes. "Hmm?"

"Amazing. That's what you are, Buffy. Bloody amazing."

She smiled, the expression oddly shy given the circumstances. "I am?"

"Yeah, you are." He tucked the hair on one side of her head behind her ear so he could run his knuckles across her cheek. "You're so…raw. You give into everything you feel, get lost in the moment. There's no pretense, no games when you're with me, you just… Fuck, baby, it's so intense."

"Angelus told me I wasn't good enough to really please him."

Spike's jaw ticked. "Angelus was a sodding wanker. If he wasn't smart enough to appreciate what a treasure he had in his bed, then that was his problem, Buffy. Not yours. And the fucker deserved what you did to him. The only thing that could've made it better was if it hadn't been so bloody quick."

Buffy's smile changed as she preened from his praise. "I want to please you, Spike. You make me want to, with what you do to me. When you're inside me, all I know is you."

Her words went straight to his dead heart, and for a second, Spike could've sworn he felt it beat. He kept expecting to wake up, to find himself back in that chair, broken and alone while he listened to Drusilla moan and scream in her sire's bed. This was everything he'd ever wanted, a woman who looked at him with shining eyes and told him she wanted him like no one else.

He'd wanted Buffy since the first moment he saw her. There was no reason to deny that, especially not now. However, he'd never expected to have her like this, or for it to be so wonderful. He doubted he could've ever had this if she hadn't been turned, and for that he was at least begrudgingly grateful to Angelus, even if he still didn't approve of the way it had been done.

Yet the past couldn't be changed, and he wouldn't want it to be anyway, not now. Anything was worth it to bring this dark goddess to him.

Spike searched his mind for a response to her soft admission, but found himself lacking one. For a man who had once made a life of words, he thought it strange he couldn't find any for what he felt now, but he made do with a kiss, his mouth capturing Buffy's, tasting her until his cock re-hardened, lengthening inside of her and making their movements begin anew.

*** *** ***

Eventually, they'd torn themselves away from each other, knowing if they didn't head out soon, they'd be without food for the night.

Buffy had told Spike she wanted to go shopping, claiming she didn't want to be like him in the same outfit all of the time. He'd insisted he did in fact change his clothes, only they tended to be just like the ones he'd worn before, yet Buffy's only response had been crossed arms and an arched eyebrow. Spike had laughed at that and told her it would be his pleasure to take her shopping.

Now, she stood in a shop on Sunnydale's Main Street, holding up a pale pink halter top. She liked the cut, but the color just so didn't scream "evil!"

"Hey, shop girl, do you have this in red?" she asked, calling over her shoulder.

"N…no. We only have that color," the girl replied, trembling in fear as she clutched the wound at her neck.

"Well, damn. Honey, do you like this?" Buffy asked Spike as she gestured to the pink top.

"It'll make you look like cotton candy," Spike replied, wrinkling his nose. He held something else up. "How about this?"

"That's a leather bra."

"Your point?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You're such a guy. Throw it in the bag."

His tongue between his teeth, Spike added it to Buffy's other clothes before he returned his attention to the lingerie display.

"Ooh, this is nice," Buffy said, pulling a blood red mini-dress from the rack. "What do you think?"

Spike turned to her, and his eyes glazed over for a moment as he pictured the garment on Buffy.

"I'll take that as a yes," Buffy said, Spike's look more than answer enough to her question. She slung the dress over her arm, then browsed the clothes on the rack again. "You know, this is so much better than shopping used to be. Then, I had to worry about what I could afford and what my mother would let me get away with what I'm wearing. Now I can just take whatever I want and get a tasty meal in the process." She turned to the shop girl and flashed her fangs, loving the way it made the girl cry harder.

"Being a vampire definitely has its perks," Spike replied as he ran his thumb over the lace of a red thong. He couldn't wait until it was drenched with Buffy's juices, heady with her scent.

When Buffy had found everything she wanted, Spike hauled the shop girl up, then bent his knees with the girl still propped up in front of him. "Come here, baby," he beckoned to Buffy. "Drink with me."

Buffy hurried over to him, noting how he'd brought the girl down low enough so she could reach her neck without having to crane up. It touched her that he'd be so thoughtful.

Together, they drained the girl, each taking a side of her neck until she slumped, lifeless.

Spike gathered Buffy's things and they left the store together, strolling down the street towards where he'd left his DeSoto. Buffy stopped short in front of an antique store, then took a step towards the window.

"You see something you like, pet?" Spike asked.

"Oh, not really. I mean, not anything I'm going to try to drag back with us," she replied. "I was just admiring that bed."

Spike looked at the bed in question, seeing that it was a large, wrought-iron canopy bed. "It is nice," he told her.

"I used to want a bed like that as a little girl, but my mother told me it would never fit in my room." Buffy turned away from the window. "Come on. I want to go back to the crypt and try on some of those things you picked out." She winked.

Her words made Spike's mind immediately go to one of his favorite mental places, and he followed her back to the car.

*** *** ***

Spike loved how she was after a good kill. Hot, fresh blood in her veins always enflamed her, made her desperate for a hard fuck, and him desperate to give it to her.

She was a wild thing, completely untamed—nor did she want to be tamed. She wanted to touch, to experience, to feel. Her world was one of intensity, of bright, vibrant colors and sounds.

And she brought a new light into his.

The more he touched her, tasted her, the less space Drusilla seemed to take up in his mind. He'd always thought they'd shared so much before he'd spent just a night with Buffy. She was intensely passionate in a way his sire had never been, gave into the sensual in a way Spike knew intimately. Dru had always been about control, making everything into a game in order to get her way.

Buffy simply existed in the moment, let passion and desire roll over her until she became it.

Just. Like. Him.

He felt as if he'd found water at the end of a long trek through the desert, his poet's heart wanting to describe her in metaphors and exhaust her with lyrical praise. Yet when he was inside of her, he could not speak, save for desperate gasps of her name, leaving him with no rhythm but that of his hips.

Finally, as the sun began to break over the horizon, they collapsed into each others arms, sated. Spike held her close against his chest, his hand caressing her body as he hoped that were this but a dream, he would never again wake.

*** *** ***

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