“Buffy, it’s like you’re not even there. Don’t tell me you’re still having problems with Riley?”

Buffy looked up from her soda to see Jonathan staring at her with that familiar mixture of warmth and concern. “Umm…no?”

“Haven’t we had this discussion before?” he chided. “I thought you kids worked it out.”

Buffy forced herself not to snap at him. She and Jonathan were the same age, and if she was having trouble getting over her boyfriend not being able tell the difference between her and her mortal enemy, it wasn’t exactly unreasonable. Thinking about Spike when she was with Riley was another thing.

But she had barely done that, and felt bad afterward.

Just not as bad as she thought she would.

***

She didn’t crash open the door as hard this time when she entered.

He was in a ratty chair she’d never noticed before, reading by candlelight. “Well, well, look who’s here. What a surprise.”

“The other night was a mistake.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you came here to tell me that?” He tossed his book aside and sauntered across the room. “Because you certainly didn’t come here for this.” He grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling her against him. “Or this.” He cupped her breasts and begin kneading them, trailing kisses along the curve of neck. “And you sure didn’t come for this,” he added, shoving his hand up her skirt. She gasped and leaned closer. He laughed and stepped back.

“So I’m glad we’ve agreed last night was a mistake. After all, we wouldn’t want to—”

His words were smothered by her rough kiss. He parted his lips and eagerly welcomed her darting little tongue and nasty bites. This was a slayer he could get behind.

She pulled at his shirt and dragged his shirt over his head. While she began working at the buttons on his fly he reciprocated, tugging her shirt off and eyeing her frilly pink bra. “What, not a front loader? I’m disappointed,” he reproved, pushing his fingers down inside the cups and yanking down until her tits were exposed. The pressure under her breasts only served to push them up more. Luscious. He closed his lips around one rapidly hardening peak and lashed her nipple with his tongue as his hand toyed with her other breast.

The door opened with a bang and they both jumped. Standing in the doorway was a demon she’d never seen before. In a single motion she pulled out a stake and flung it, and the demon was on the floor, the weapon embedded in his forehead, before he could even speak.

She stared at the body in shock. She’d never slayed that like before—automatically, on instinct, without carefully planning. Without having to brace herself, convince herself she could do it.

“Bed,” said Spike abruptly, taking her arm and dragging her in the general direction of the sarcophagus.

“What? What, no, we have to get rid of that, and shut the door,” Buffy protested, trying to pull him back towards the doorway.

“Uh-uh.” He tugged harder. They stumbled and collapsed in a tangle of limbs in front of the chair he’d been reading in. “Can’t…wait,” he gritted,

He dragged them to their knees and bent her over the seat of the chair, shoving her skirt over her ass and ripping her panties off crudely. He was way past finesse at this point.

He yanked his fly open and slid into her har. She keened, pushing back against him. He began a hard pace and she kept up, her tits bouncing, her sensitive nipples abraded by the worn fabric of the chair. “Yeah, yeah. Just like that,” he praised. In the stillness of the crypt the sound of his balls slapping against her clit echoed, and it excited her.

She cried out and collapsed, her head against the cushion. A few moments later he shouted and his thrusts slowed. Vaguely she was aware of him pulling out, and then she felt the cool lap of his tongue against her. “This can never happen again,” she breathed, pushing against his mouth.

“Uh-hm,” he mumbled. “Never again. Definitely.” The vibration of the words against her clit made her shudder, and she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing down on him. He grunted in approval and tried an experimental growl. She gasped and ground down against him forcefully.

Never would have to wait until tomorrow.