Chapter Three

At some point during the walk back to Revello Drive, Buffy had given up on the independent standing alone thing. She allowed the touch as Spike's steadying arm became almost carrying her. Still she managed to trip up the step to the front path, trip again on an uneven stone, then finally disentangle herself at the front door.

"You gonna be alright, love?"

"Fine," Buffy muttered, turning away from him and starting a slow search for her front door key.

"Regular-miserable fine? Or falling up the front steps and then choking on your own vomit fine?"

Though her head was ducked Spike thought he could see the beginnings of a smile hiding under all that golden hair. "Fine," Buffy repeated firmly.

"You want me to come in? Tuck you-"

"No." Though he was hardly crowding, Buffy put a restraining hand on Spike's chest. "No. I'm sorry Spike, I shouldn't have... That is... You can't come in."

Spike caught her chin, and though Buffy frowned she allowed him to turn her face to his for a moment. "Only trying to look out for you, love. Ain't expecting a bone for walking you home."

The Slayer flushed, turned away, started rummaging through more invisible pockets, and gave up after a few seconds. "I'm here for whatever you need," Spike added softly.

"You make like a doormat and people are going to walk all over you," Buffy snapped back. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that?"

"Everyday. Promise you'll wear your red stilettos? And no-"

He was giving her his best lecherous grin as he spoke, the one that had once had lesser girls creaming their knickers across crowded bars and wandering helplessly onto his fangs. But all the same Spike was surprised - nay, shocked - when he wound up with a mouthful of Slayer. The hand that had been holding him away was now bunched in his T-shirt, keeping him in place as she attacked his lips.

For a second he was too stunned to react, and her momentum and grip carried them both backwards. Too drunk to stand upright for two, Spike put his hands on her shoulders to steady them both and before his brain had time to pull back his body was responding to her intimate kiss. Spike was suddenly understanding the expression sucking face, because kiss just wasn't a strong enough word. Teeth clashed as she delved into his open mouth, her small warm body crushed against his, wrapped around him, all those delicate curves he'd never dared touch now pressed against the vampire's lean torso.

Spike was helplessly caught up in the moment, cupping her face now, rubbing against her heat until Buffy whimpered into his mouth. A tiny sound that tugged simultaneously on groin and heartstrings and brought Spike crashing down to a rather fuzzy understanding of the present.

All the blood needed for thought was busy in other places and watered down with booze, but Spike was used to that handicap. One thing he'd never dealt with before was Buffy, clinging limpet-like to him, leg wrapped around his, one hand trapped between them, the other snaking up to the back of his neck.

They were making out, mouths open, like hungry teenagers and even as Spike marvelled at it from a birds eye view, he could feel himself getting lost in her. Could feel her urgency, taking him over, knew where this was going and jerked his head back while he still could. And then the warmth was gone as Buffy scrambled away from him. Her hasty escape was foiled by her own shoe and she landed heavily on her backside. Spike just watched her tumble, brain still temporarily absent.

Buffy looked like he felt, hand covering the shocked 'O' of her mouth, eyes nearly as round. For long moments they both stared, the vampire bracing himself for the fireworks that would surely follow but when she finally spoke her voice was subdued, the words not what he was expecting.

"I taste of sick, don't I?"

"No! Well yes, but your sick is mostly vodka so... Did you just kiss me?"

"No." The word was muffled as Buffy buried her face in her hands, making no effort to regain her footing. Spike dropped to his knees beside her but didn't dare touch, any remaining good sense desperately battling desire.

"I'm not looking to get myself staked tomorrow, so best you get yourself to bed, okay?"

Buffy nodded, at least her head moved, the rest of her stayed folded around her knees on the garden path.

"C'mon love, up you get."

"Go away."

"Can't leave you here outside. Get yourself in the house and I'll go away."

The only answer he got was a stifled sob and Spike quickly dropped the no touching rule to put his arm around her shaking shoulders. His body was still on fire, and even that much contact was electricity to him. Buffy didn't seem to notice.

"I'm so sick of being miserable!" she wailed into her hands.

"It'll end, love," Spike murmured, still disorientated by her pendulum moods. "It's bad now but it will get better."

"You don't know that! Maybe it's just... the important parts stayed dead and it'll never get better. I'll never be the same person."

"'Course you won't. Stuff changes you and you get older and wiser and all that bollocks. You'll be a new person."

"Someone who gets drunk and kisses vampires?" she spat bitterly. "Even you think I'm repulsive now."

"You are not repulsive!" Spike forcibly hauled her out of the foetal position till she was crouching level with him. "A little snotty maybe. Blotchy, some might say... bleeding hell Slayer, cut it out."

She hauled herself the rest of the way up, tottering unsteadily and Spike followed. He was slowly coming to the conclusion that anything he did and said tonight was destined to make Buffy cry.

"Snotty and blotchy and dead and repulsive."

Spike kissed her again, backing her against the porch support. He knew he shouldn't but her lips were reddened by their previous exertions, pouting and asking to be devoured. Eyes so wide and vulnerable as she declared herself repulsive that he was lost for the words to say just how ridiculous that was. This time it was Buffy who ended the kiss, even as her hand cupped his hipbone, holding him against her.

"Spike..."

"Sorry pet. Definitely not repulsive."

Buffy looked down and away, biting her lip and not letting go.

"I don't want to be with you."

"I know, sweetheart."

"But... You make me not miserable. A little bit."

The vampire raised a surprised eyebrow. And here was the part where he said something chivalrous and took his leave but she lifted her eyes to his at exactly the wrong moment and Spike's lips were stealing another kiss, the rest of him following helplessly behind. Again, it was Buffy who broke away, but not until she was gasping for air.

"Right bad idea, this is."

Buffy agreed with a nod and they were kissing again. This time, Spike was too far gone to say or care who started it. When she ground herself against the bulge in his trousers it was one shock too many and Spike was of no mind to resist, floating on a high of sensation. Though it was Buffy with her back to the beam there was no doubting who was in control, her leg hooked around his, hands grasping everywhere. Stretching herself up on tiptoes until she was grinding in exactly the right place for both of them.

Spike was without thought now, beyond sensory image. The feel of her warm breasts crushed against his chest, the rub of her pebbled nipples through two layers of thin cotton as they undulated with the kiss. Rough denim scraping over his foreskin. Buffy's fingers digging into the flesh of his back, Buffy sucking on his tongue like it was the new oxygen. Buffy's hand reaching between them, slipping into the waistband of his jeans. That last woke the vampire from his hungry frenzy and he pulled his mouth away, though he couldn't quite bear to break the contact between their bodies. Her eyes flew open.

"Buffy..."

She leant forward to recapture his open mouth but with his last scrap of self control Spike held his head away, hands now firmly on her shoulders. Trying to resist even as his hips moved in tiny circles, pressing the seam of his fly against her pubic bone and questing fingers.

"Tomorrow, love," he gasped out.

"Tomorrow is all the stuff I don't want to think about."

"Like how much you'll never speak to me again, or how much you'll stake me?"

Buffy froze in her movements, tugging on the top fly button of Spike's jeans. Hazel eyes met his blue ones and Spike could see the uncertainty there, beneath the lack of focus and redness left by tears. Objectively speaking, the girl was a mess. Her remaining makeup smudged every which way, face blotchy, garden debris clinging to her clothes and hair. But flushed and panting she was the most beautiful things he'd ever seen and Spike could not let go. If lust hadn't held him those eyes would, so much older than him, so desperate for something.

Spike was so hard now it was painful and he longed for the flick of her fingers that would release his constraint even though he knew he shouldn't let this madness go one step further. Knew how it would seem in the cold and sober light of day. When she regretted him.

"Do you want to run?" Buffy asked quietly.

And even now, when she held him helplessly enslaved to the warmth of her body, Spike could hear the fear of rejection. When almost all he could think was to be inside her.

"No love. God, no."

And finally, finally she moved, popping open his fly and allowing his cock to spring out into her hand. And there was a part of Spike that really did want to run, that had only wanted to help and didn't want the inevitable angst the next day. But as her warm fingers circled the swollen head of his dick it was a very small part, outvoted by the rest and consoling itself that it really was too late to turn back now; both lost in a sudden urgent need to be touching flesh.

Spike's hands made short work of her blouse, reducing it to its component pieces of material in his eagerness to touch. Buffy barely heeded the loss, her arms around his neck, back against the pillar, lifting herself up until they were nose to nose. Her cotton panties rubbing against his bared erection, breasts arching into his cupped hands.

"So fucking soft," he murmured against her cheek. "My beautiful girl. So soft."

He moved one hand slowly over her belly, tentatively moving down to the waistband of her skirt, but Buffy was faster, pulling the billowy material aside, ripping at her own underwear. While Spike was kissing her neck, getting to know that ivory skin for the first time, Buffy grasped at his erection, lining him up with herself.

Spike stopped kissing then, pulled back to stare at her as his cock nudged her slick entrance. She stared back, determined and serious, raising her arms over her head to clutch at the guttering and steady her body as she lowered herself onto him, inch by excruciating inch. And every impulse, natural or forced, to go slow was wiped away by her daring. Spike gripped her hips, slamming himself home, and she closed her eyes with a muffled gasp.

"Oh fuck, Buffy. Oh Jesus fucking Christ."

Her legs were wrapped tightly round his waist, holding him inside as her delicate muscles slowly strangled his cock. The heat was almost too much to bear, magnifying every sensation, a world away from the five cold fingers that had filled Spike's masculine needs over the summer.

"So good, love. So hot, can you feel it?"

She made no answer in words but raised herself slightly, her back arching as her arms took her weight, body shuddering as she sank back down. Starting a slow rhythm in which they could both get lost.

"Mmmm. Shit Buffy. So good, so gorgeous. My beautiful girl-"

She shut him up with a kiss, deep and intimate as the feel of himself inside her. Spike carried right on talking with his tongue and fingers as she rode him. The slightest pressure of his thumb on her clit and she was coming, clenching around him with an inarticulate groan. The sound of her pleasure, a breathless rumble against Spike's ear, was enough to send him following over the edge.

Buffy let go of the roof to wrap her arms tight round his neck, all her weight on the unsteady vampire. He could hear her breath catching as they both came down. The feel of her snuggled against his chest, panting into his collar, breath warming his neck, was enough to keep the vampire hard inside her. He ran his hands over her back, caressing, kissing her hair. He could hardly help his fingers moving to her softer curves, creeping between their pressed bodies, exploring as he'd tried to do earlier. She shifted against him, sending tantalizing ripples of pleasure from where she gloved him.

One arm holding Buffy up, Spike teased his other hand through her sandy brown curls. Slipping down to circle her clit, over the skin stretched tight round the base of his erection. He could feel her blood rushing up to meet his gentle touch, rousing the breathless girl in more ways than one.

"I thought you just... um..."

"Yeah," Spike agreed with a growl, leaning in to kiss her collar bone and causing his angle inside her to change again, lifting her up to kiss lower, and the Slayer whimpered as he slid out a little. He hardly even had the excuse of drunkenness. His blood might have a higher alcohol proof than your average bottle of vodka but lust aside Spike was clearheaded; he knew it wasn't so for her "You think we're done?" he whispered into the valley between her breasts.

Now that the chilly evening breeze could slip between them, her titties were hardened handfuls, puckered nipples standing proud in the cold night air. Spike ran the tip of his tongue over the crinkled skin of her areola and Buffy shivered.

"Spike, I..."

"Not yet, love. Please not yet." His thumb danced in rhythmic patterns around her clit and her eyes fluttered closed. Spike could hardly bear for it to be over yet, his body still aching with desire, his mind unwilling to accept they were already starting that miserable slide to the morning after. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, pressed harder on her clit, wanting to touch as much as possible, wanting to distract. She moaned softly and he released her with a pop, blowing gently on the moisture he left. "If I'm going to get staked tomorrow I should at least get to see you naked."

Too late he found his words countered the melting affects of his touch, she stiffened with the return of self awareness.

"Spike, people can see."

"There's no people left daft enough to come out at this hour."

He dipped his head back to her breast but Buffy pulled away, loosening his grip and causing Buffy to slide back down his hard pole with a surprised yelp.

"Fuck!" Spike exclaimed with feeling, moved gently inside her. "You don't wanna stop now, love. It gets so much better." He curtailed further protest by swinging round the porch support and bounding up the front steps, still firmly buried in her warm depths. He paused at the door to kiss her thoroughly and she let him.

"I can show you so much more than a quick fuck, my pretty. Let me, please."

"Spike," she said again, but the word was less of a protest and more of a plea.

"They're all asleep, love. Let me take you to bed." Another kiss, her lips soft and pliant against his, her arms still tightly around him. It was close enough to a yes for the vampire, and he took her inside to bed.

********
"Spike. You bit me."

It was the tone of her voice that woke the vampire from his sated stupor; an octave higher than usual. He lifted his head from her stomach to blink at her sleepily.

"Yeah, love. Sorry 'bout that. I didn't mean to... I guess I forgot that you wouldn't like... Sorry."

Spike was snuffling back down onto the deliciously scented pillow of her belly when she spoke again. A faint tinge of panic to her voice that woke the vampire thoroughly.

"No. Spike, you bit me."

"Oh." Slowly Spike focused on the curve of her bosom, the tiny red puncture marks already healing round one swollen nipple. He opened his mouth to protest it was nothing more than a love bite, gone in hours, as he met her saucer like eyes he slowly made the connection Buffy had already jumped to. Light dawned and her panic spread. "Oh fuck."

To Be Concluded....