The evening with Buffy's new friends went reasonably well. They all ate hot dogs and chips--even Spike--and relaxed, chatting on a wide variety of subjects.
After dinner Spike made sure that Buffy spent most of the rest of the evening on his lap. Her mind protested, but her body was too willing. She liked being held by him.
Buffy listened to him comparing and contrasting the differences between punk rock of the seventies and modern music and found herself drowning in his voice.
"Okay, what about the new swing movement?" Tad asked. "Can it really compare to the real thing?"
Spike shook his head. "No. It's fun and great stuff to dance to, but nothing beats the early swing music. Cole Porter, Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman--that was great music, a great scene. I think it's just a case of one more thing coming around again. Seems to be the way the world goes."
"Yeah, if we wait long enough, maybe your beloved punk will return," Buffy teased. Spike growled in her ear and she giggled.
"Well, although this discussion is fascinating, we better head out if we want to make it back to the campground before full dark," Janice said, diplomatically.
Buffy scrambled off Spike's lap to help Janice gather up the extra food.
"We'll leave you two alone to...talk," Janice whispered to Buffy with a grin. Buffy glared at her friend and handed her the extra beer from the fridge. "I can leave that for Spike, if you want."
"It's not his drink of choice."
Janice added the beer to her bag. "Have fun."
"Go away."
Janice, Tad and Quinton said their goodbyes and headed out. Buffy looked at the sun setting in the west, then closed the door, slowly turning back to Spike, who rose to his feet and slid his hands into his back pockets. They stared at each other for a minute.
"Want to go back to bed?" Spike asked.
Lust hit her hard and she swallowed, blinking her eyes. "Yeah."
Spike held out his hand and Buffy took it, letting him lead her to her bedroom. Once there, she turned on the fan, sending some air moving around the stuffy room. Spike pulled her into his arms, running his hands up her back under her t-shirt and then kissed her.
Helplessly caught in sudden desire, Buffy responded, sliding her fingers into his short hair, her lips twisting hungrily against his as their tongues met and caressed. Her hands moved down over his cool body and slid around his waist. She had been sitting pressed against that cool chest most of the evening...and she loved it. The feeling of chilled skin next to her heated flesh aroused her and she wondered if a human would ever make her feel the same way.
Spike lifted the t-shirt over her head, then resumed kissing her as he pressed her hard-tipped breasts to his chest, smiling as she gasped and squirmed against him. Slipping his hands into the waistband of her shorts, he pulled them down, letting them fall to the floor. Buffy stepped out of them, leaving her in a pair of white panties, but not for long. They too joined the rest of her clothes in a pile on the floor.
Cupping her buttocks, Spike lifted her, pressing her against his arousal. Buffy wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, clinging to him as their tongues dueled.
Although he could feel her wetness against his stomach, Spike tried to urge her legs down, but she held on tightly. "Slayer," he murmured between kisses. "Let go so I can touch you."
"Are touching me," she growled, biting his chin, then moving her mouth down to suck on his throat.
"I can't exactly reach your breasts or any other important part of you," he began to protest, then groaned as her teeth scraped across his jugular.
"Don't care. Just do it."
Spike's eyes widened at the demanding tone of her voice, then he shuddered as she sucked on his neck. The lust in his loins grew too intense and he found himself moving them, nearly slamming her back against the nearest wall. Pressing her there, he reached down and managed to undo his jeans, freeing his throbbing erection. As his jeans slid down his legs, his hands returned to her trembling bottom and lifted her.
Their eyes met and held, then he thrust her down on his erection and Buffy moaned, closing her eyes, writhing against him as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she moved on Spike, thrusting with him, her heels drumming against his back.
Grunting in pleasure, Spike caught her lips again in a hungry kiss. Buffy ground against him, her sweaty body sliding easily on the wall as she rolled her head and keened in need.
As her inner muscles clamped around him Spike exploded in ecstasy, filling her in hard thrusts. Shaking, he slipped from inside her and kicked off his jeans before stumbling over to the bed with her still clinging to him. Falling on his back, he pulled Buffy down on top of him. She was panting and trembling from unfulfilled desire. Squirming, she ground her pelvis against his leg and Spike grabbed her hips, tugging her up his body.
Intent finally penetrated her swirling mind and Buffy scrambled over him until she was kneeling over his head whimpering. Spike's hands caught her buttocks and brought her down to his mouth.
She was hot and wet, nearly burning his tongue as he lathed her clitoris, causing her to moan and jerk in his hands. As he moved her on his mouth and the desire built deep inside her, Buffy twisted her nipples in her hands, sending bolts of white-hot heat through her.
Suddenly his lips closed over her and Buffy yelled. The tight pleasure broke, sending shock waves through her. Whimpering she ground down against him until the tension was totally released, then toppled over to the side of the bed in a boneless heap.
Spike scooted farther up the bed and gently lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She was panting, her eyes closed, her body gleaming with perspiration and trembling in satisfaction.
As she felt him caressing her arm, Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at him. "We're insane," she whispered.
Spike grinned languidly. "Insanity can be fun, Slayer."
Wrapping her arm across his cold chest, Buffy pressed herself closer, letting his lack of heat numb her sensitized body. They lay there quietly for several minutes, then Spike carefully moved her away from him and sat up.
"The sun's down."
"Uh huh."
"I need to feed, Slayer."
Buffy felt a different kind of chill sweep her and she curled herself into a ball, not wanting to think about that or the undeniable fact that she had just had passionate sex with a killer. Listening to him dressing, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
"When I come back, we're going to talk."
She shook her head. She didn't want him to come back. She didn't want him to go...
Spike crouched down in front of her, understanding her reaction probably better than she did. Gently he touched her cheek and her eyes flew open. "Slayer. You just fucked a killer. Get used to the idea."
Buffy's eyes blazed and she shot off the bed, grabbing her t-shirt off the floor. "Bastard."
Spike chuckled. "But then, so did I." He headed for the bedroom door and Buffy spun around as she tugged the t- shirt over her head.
"If you come back, I'll have a stake waiting," she promised.
He threw his answer over his shoulder. "No you won't." Spike left the room and Buffy slumped onto the bed, her shoulders hunching her over.
"Please don't kill," she whispered, knowing it was futile. Knowing she would let him back in that door and probably back into her bed. She needed him too much...and needed to understand why. She didn't think it really had much to do with Spike personally, although she had always enjoyed their banter and his intelligence. If a person had to have a mortal enemy, he was a pretty good one to have.