“No bloody way.”
“Come on, Spike,” Buffy cajoled. “It’s a lot more fun if we both do it.”
Spike crossed his arms and wedged himself into the corner of their new love seat. The love seat Buffy had picked out on her own from the furniture shop because Spike refused to go shopping with her.
“No,” he said. “You take hours to make a decision. Amazes me that someone who used to decide the fate of the world in mere seconds can take a bloody week to pick out a bed. It’s a bed, Slayer! You sleep in it, you shag in it. You don’t stop the apocalypse with it.”
“Yes, but it’s our bed. One that we’ll have for a very long time. Don’t you want a say in which one we get?”
“Won’t make a difference what I think, will it? You’ll just pick the one you like anyway.”
Buffy put her hands on her hips. “That is so not true. We decided together on which part of London to settle in, didn’t we? We both wanted this flat.” Spike grumbled something. “Oh no you don’t, mister. If you want to say something, say it loud enough so my mere mortal ears can hear it.”
“Just tryin ‘ to make you happy, Buffy,” he said, more forcefully.
Buffy walked over to him and punched his shoulder. “Well, quit it,” she said as he shouted in surprise. “We’re supposed to make each other happy, you idiot.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her down on top of him. “Know how you can make me happy right now,” he breathed into her neck.
Buffy resisted melting against him. “Later. After we get a bed. I’m tired of sleeping on a mattress on the floor.”
“Not thinking about sleeping right about now,” Spike said as he slid his hands under her shirt. ” Thinkin ‘ about slipping inside you and pounding you hard. Makin ‘ you scream when you come for me.”
“Uh,” Buffy said. Somehow she was sitting on top of him, her hips moving as she ground against his jeans. “But the store closes in an hour,” she said weakly.
“I’m ready for you now,” Spike said. That deep growl he used made her flush. His sex voice. It always turned her on.
“Don’t,” she said. “You know what you do to me when you talk like that.”
He gave her his sex smile–his lips pursed, the corners of his mouth just curling and his eyes half-closed and intense. “Yeah. Know what it does to you. It’s why I’m doing it.”
“Evil,” she breathed.
He cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth down to his. “Always,” he said. He kissed her and suddenly buying a bed was the last thing on Buffy’s mind. Unless it was one with slats that they could wrap ropes or handcuffs around…
“What you thinking about?” Spike asked as she pulled back after the kiss. “Seems like all of Buffy wasn’t kissing all of me right then.”
“Just thinking maybe we could break in the loveseat instead of worrying about a bed right now,” she said. “But wait!” She pushed Spike’s hands off her cloth-covered breasts and jumped up. “Get off.”
“You know I want to, Slayer. Now quit mucking about and come here.” He reached for her, but she batted his hands away. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked.
“Get up–off the loveseat. If we’re going to have sex, I want to put a towel down first.”
Spike stared at her incredulously. “What now?”
Buffy grabbed his elbow and yanked at him impatiently. “Come on. It’s new and you’re messy.” She gave his arm a rough jerk and Spike flew off the couch and into her, knocking them both to the hardwood floor. ” Ooof ,” Buffy said as he landed on top of her.
“There now,” Spike said into her neck. “Floor will do nicely, don’t you think? Don’t need towels for it.”
“Spike,” she warned, pushing at his shoulders. He kissed that spot behind her ear that always made her weak and then started unbuttoning her blouse. He moved his mouth along her skin as he parted the material and nudged her shirt aside with his nose to uncover a breast.
“Knew you weren’t wearing a bra, pet,” he said. Buffy’s nipple peaked as he breathed on it before teasing it with his teeth. When he sucked it deep into his mouth, she moaned a little. “Sensitive,” she said. “Nearly that time of the month.”
Spike released her nipple to give her a wicked smile. She smacked his shoulder. “Quit thinking what you’re thinking,” she said.
“Why?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You know you like it too, Buffy.”
“I like when you do it. I don’t like thinking about it or talking about it or–“
“You’re the one brought it up, love,” Spike said before he exposed her other breast and began gently tonguing the areola. When Buffy was squirming underneath him, he slid down her body until he reached the button on her jeans. He popped it open and dragged the zipper down with his teeth, revealing her dark pink panties. Buffy lifted her hips so he could pull her jeans off and sighed as he came back to settle between her legs. Spike rubbed his nose across the silky material of her panties before licking her along the elastic edges. “The way you smell, love. The way you taste. Can’t get enough,” he said. Buffy spread her legs wider, giving him better access to where she wanted his mouth most. Spike slid a finger below her waistband and tugged, tearing the flimsy cloth.
“Not another pair,” Buffy groaned.
“Got plenty more,” Spike said, slipping the ruined panties from underneath her. Buffy lifted up on her elbows to shrug her blouse off, but Spike’s hand on her collar stopped her. “Leave it on,” he said. “I like it.” For some reason, Buffy liked it too, the idea that she wore nothing but an unbuttoned, thin blouse while he was still completely dressed. Seeing his pupils dilate as he looked her over just added to her excitement. She laid back and smiled at him before lifting her hips in invitation.
Spike braced himself on his arms and loomed over her. He kissed her, letting the softness of his t-shirt rub over her nipples and the roughness of his jeans brush against her mound. But he pulled away when Buffy’s hands went for the buckle on his belt.
“Ah ah ah ,” he said. “Not time for that yet.”
Buffy let her hands fall to her sides as he again slid down her body. He lifted her to his mouth and said, ” Mmm , so wet for me,” before his tongue found her clitoris. He teased her with the lightest licks, each one bringing Buffy closer and closer to the edge. When her body was quivering with tension, he slid two fingers inside of her and began pumping them gently. His licks became rougher and faster and Buffy held her breath, just waiting for the break–the one motion that would send her flying. When Spike pushed his fingers into her more forcefully, Buffy felt it start. Spike sensed it too because he covered her with his mouth and began strongly sucking at her. Buffy’s orgasm swept through her and Spike’s mouth only made it last longer. When it was finally over, she cringed with oversensitivity . Spike drew back and looked up at her.
“Too much?” he asked.
“Right on that fine edge,” she said.
“Wait a bit?”
Buffy shook her head. “No. Come here.” He moved back up her body and she kissed him, tasting herself, as she unbuckled his belt. She slid his jeans just down past his hips before wrapping her legs around him and drawing him inside of her. ” Mmm good,” she said.
“Bloody right,” he agreed, easing himself all the way in. When he was as deep as he could go, he froze, looking down at her. “Why does it feel new every time with you?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
Buffy bit her lip and moved against him. “Hard,” she said. “Do it hard.”
Spike closed his eyes for a second before he started snapping his hips. He’d pull nearly all the way out before plunging back inside of her. Buffy braced her hands on the floor above her head and met each of his thrusts. Her breathing hitched as the material of his t-shirt brushed against her clit and sent aftershocks through her.
“Gonna come,” he said, still pounding her hard. His strokes became sloppier before he lost his rhythm altogether and ground himself against her. As he came he shouted her name, his human face a mask of painful pleasure.
Spike collapsed on top of her, panting as he instinctively mimicked Buffy’s breathing. Neither moved for a while. When breathing truly did become an issue for Buffy, she slid him off of her, accidentally cracking his head on the floor. “Oh! Sorry,” she said. “Of course, that wouldn’t have happened if we were in a bed…”
Spike rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back. “Yes dear,” he said, affecting the worst American accent she’d ever heard.
Buffy rolled to face him and propped her head on her hand. “You know, Spikey ,” she said, making circles on his chest with her fingertips, “bed shopping could be fun. I mean, do we want one with wooden slats or would wood be too fragile when I’ve got you tied to it? Maybe iron. Oh, wrought iron, whatever that means. It just sounds sexy. Or even a four-poster so I could spread you out and chain–“
Spike jumped to his feet, scooped up Buffy’s jeans and tossed them at her. “Get the lead out, Slayer. Time to bed shop,” he said.