Arrivederci, Roma

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part Two...

~~~~~~~~~~
"City of a million moonlit places
City of a million warm embraces.."
~~~~~~~~~~

Resigned to the idea that there was no escape for her
at the moment, since she had no intention of jumping
out of a speeding car, Buffy sat as far from Spike as she
could possibly get.

Huddling up against the door and casting him a glare that
should have turned him to stone, she listened in icy silence
as he told his story of death and resurrection.

She was trying hard to get a handle on her chaotic
emotions. The fact that they WERE so chaotic told her
more clearly than anything that this wasn't some
elaborate dream scenario that she'd cooked up.

She'd had too many of those, had woken up crying
from them too many times not to know the difference
between dreams and reality.

Only Spike could make her so stirred up and crazy
that she couldn't even think straight. He'd always had
an instinctive talent for doing that.

At the moment, she wasn't really sure what she was
angrier about; his highhanded behavior in forcing her to
come with him, or the fact that he'd apparently been
back for quite some time and had never bothered to
inform her.

There had been no phone call or letter, not even so much
as a postcard with 'Back from the dead. Wish you were
here' scribbled on it. Trust Spike to do it as theatrically
as possible, shaking up her life the same way he always
had, turning it upside down and inside out.

And just when she'd finally managed to begin putting
herself back together. The sharp stab of grief had
gradually become a dull ache. It was always with her,
never very far from the surface, but she'd been able to
work around it; putting it out of her mind like a sore
tooth that didn't really hurt unless you prodded it with
your tongue.

She'd been...not precisely 'happy'...but content, for the
most part. Which had been just fine with her. She didn't
want to have such extremes of emotion anymore; didn't
want to be deliriously happy or horribly sad. Her past was
riddled with those sorts of highs and lows. She didn't have
the strength for them anymore.

So, she'd ignored them, and then buried them.

Now here was Spike, trying to dig them right back up!

Here...was Spike.

So close she could touch him. If she just...reached
out, if she reached...just a little bit...

She felt tears threatening to fill her eyes. Blinking them
back, she turned her head to hide them until she had
established a little control.

"Come on, luv...say something."

She turned back to him, scowl firmly in place. "Why are you
here?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "You know why I'm
here, Buffy."

Hardening herself against the tone she remembered him
using whenever he was being very serious with her, she
snapped at him. "You had no right to do that back there."

"Yes, I did."

"No! You don't!"

"Yes, I do."

"Stop that!"

"You first!"

"Spike...."

"What? What do you want me to say? If I say what
you want to hear, it's not going to be the truth. Truth is
simple...I love you. And you love me back. That's what
gives me the right."

The words he was saying sounded good, but she wasn't
quite ready to let him know that.

What she really wanted to do was throw herself into his arms,
and she detested the petty little bitch inside of her that was
encouraging her to punish him for staying away so long.

"Love you?" she sneered. "What EVER gave you an idea like
that?"

"You told me you loved me."

"And YOU told ME that I didn't. You even said, "thanks
anyway", like I was offering you a second cup of coffee
after dinner."

"ARRGGH!" He flung himself back into the seat, clutching
his head as though someone was jamming an ice pick in one
ear. "Woman! You..."

"Woman?!" she echoed, her voice high pitched. "Don't you
dare call me that!"

"What, you're not a woman?"

"Of course I'm a woman, but it's not my name. Cut the
caveman bullshit!"

"All right, fine! Buffy!" He threw up his hands in surrender. "I
made a mistake, okay? I...I shouldn't have said that. It
was stupid, I know, but you..."

"Damn right, you shouldn't have," she agreed. "Nagged me
for years to admit it...for YEARS! Then I say it...and you
don't believe me?! Well, forget it! Consider it UNSAID!"

Spike just shook his head. "If only it was that easy," he said,
rolling his eyes. "Believe me, I know. You're looking at an expert
in the field of 'Don't admit it and maybe it'll all go away'."

"I'm seeing someone else!" she replied loudly, then
frowned. "Well, I was."

"Oh, come on!" Spike's voice was filled with jovial dis-
belief. "You can't really expect me to believe that you...what?
Loved him? Please. Even YOU'RE smarter than that."

"Meaning?" Her tone was frosty.

"Buffy...he's the guy who inspired the term Eurotrash. You're
too good for someone like that."

Buffy stared out the window, not wanting to listen while
Spike made derogatory comments about another man
she....

What? A man she loved? That just didn't sound right
at all. After all, how much could she have really cared about
him when she'd never even bothered to find out his name?

No, she hadn't loved the Immortal. He'd just been someone
to kill some time with; to provide a little entertainment so
that she didn't have to spend every waking minute thinking
about the man she'd really loved...and lost.

Sometimes, when she'd been sitting with him on the sofa
at home, she would close her eyes and pretend that the
strong arms around her, the cool body nestled close to
hers, belonged to....

The cab pulled up in front of a tall office building with a
jerk and squeal of brakes.

...to another vampire! The one who HADN'T seen fit to tell her
that he'd come back, damn his miserable restored soul!

She had grieved for him...cried for him...ached for him! And
what had HE been doing? Having a good old time pestering
Angel back in Los Angeles!

Well, he'd had his last chance with her, THAT was for damn
sure. Fumbling with the handle, she flung the door open
wide and almost fell out onto the sidewalk.

She was a good ten feet down the strada when she heard
him ask her a question with all the confident, smart ass bravado
completely gone from his voice.

"Buffy? Aren't you even a little bit glad to see me?"

Those words brought her to a dead stop.

~~~~~~~~~~
"Where I found the one
Of all the faces far from home..."
~~~~~~~~~~

She turned back to him and saw the uncertainty in his
eyes, and it made her heart...the heart she'd encased
behind a stone wall to keep it from shattering apart
again....crack wide open.

Spike was back. She had prayed for it, begged God for
it, dreamed of it, and wished on every star in the
sky to make it happen. When it hadn't, she had done
what she could to move on with her life.

Now she knew better. She hadn't 'moved on' with life.
She couldn't...not without him. All she had done was
put life 'on hold'.

She'd been waiting. Hadn't consciously realized it, but
she'd been waiting.

Waiting for him to come find her, and to take her home.

"Yes," she whispered. Swallowing the ache in her throat,
she began to cry.

Somewhere in the midst of her torrential downpour, one
of them had to have made the first move. There were arms
around her. A hand stroking her hair. A voice begging her
not to cry.

"Shh," he murmured softly in her ear. "S'all right now. I've
got you."

Oh, he did...and it felt so good. So...right.

Her arms crept up around his neck as she clung to
him. "Why'd you say it?" she sobbed into his shirt
front. "Tell me why."

He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally
spoke, his voice wasn't much steadier than her's.

"Because...because it was the last thing I could do for
you. The last chance I had to do things right. If I'd let
myself think that you'd really meant it, I wouldn't have
been able to let you go...and I had to. I didn't want that
place to be your goddamn tomb."

He pushed her away just a little, bringing his hands
up to cup her face and brush away her tears.

"I wanted you to live, baby," he said deliberately, looking
straight into her eyes. "For both of us."

Buffy placed her hands over his. "But after you came
back? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, it's not like I didn't want to, luv. I was a bloody ghost
at first. Couldn't go beyond the city limits. Couldn't even
dial a phone, and Angel sure as hell wasn't gonna punch
in the numbers for me, now was he?"

THAT was certainly true, Buffy knew.

"So...so you WERE planning on telling me? Eventually,
I mean?"

"Of course I was planning on it." A slow smile appeared
on his face. "Buffy," he added with a scolding shake of
his head. "Here I was thinking that you knew everything
there is to know about me. Do you really believe that ANY
power on earth could keep me away from you? I couldn't
even do THAT back when I hated you."

Buffy's respirations grew shallow as she stood there
looking up into the eyes she'd only seen in her dreams
for so long. They darkened and became more intense as
they stared into her's, a sure sign that he was becoming
aroused.

It was a memory that she hadn't allowed herself to take out
and examine just yet; the way he could tell her, without
saying a word, that he wanted her.

Always, her first clue was when the shade of his eyes deepened
as they watched her move about a room. She'd caught this look
too many times to count in their shared past, a signal too subtle
for anyone else to pick up, but to her was as loud and clear
as a clarion.

His head dipped slightly, and she could feel her lashes growing
heavy. With their lips just barely touching, he whispered,
"Buffy...kiss me. Please, baby. It's been so damn long."

Yes. It had. Far longer than it should have been.

Her fingers wrapped themselves in the lapels of his coat as
she stepped back into a small alcove in the facade of the
building, pulling him with her. When she felt the cold bricks
pressing against her back, she parted her lips and gave him
what he'd asked her for.

Spike's hand moved slowly around the back of her neck,
then up into her hair, his fingers spreading to hold her in a
firm grip as his lips pressed down harder, tracing the line
of her's with his tongue before slipping past them and into
her mouth with gentle force.

She could feel the alignment of their thighs, the close
press of her belly and breasts pressed against the hard
contours of his body.

A familiar lazy warmth began to spread through her, making
her want to lie down beneath him, feel his weight anchoring
her to the earth.

Desire and need uncoiled in the pit of her stomach, opening
her like a flower in hot sunshine.

This is what he always did to her, every time they touched,
things no other man had ever quite managed. His fingers
would travel in the most innocent of ways over her skin, and
she would feel an immediate urge to take off all her
clothes and offer herself to him. Her breasts would feel
suddenly heavier and more sensitive and there would be a
loose wetness between her thighs, an empty ache that only
he could make better.

It didn't matter where they happened to be at the time,
whether they were alone or in a crowded room. Spike was
the only man she'd ever allowed to touch her intimately in
any other location but a bedroom, the only man she'd ever
made love with in a public place; sometimes outside her
house, sometimes in a cemetery they'd been patrolling,
and that delicious encounter they'd had on the catwalk in
the Bronze when he'd walked up behind her and practically
dared her to make him stop.

She wouldn't have been able to stop him if her life had
depended on it.

When he pulled away, she tried to keep him close. "No,
please," she begged, lifting her face to his. "Spike...."

His free hand moved down to the small of her back,
pressing down just a tiny bit, letting her feel the undeniable
truth that he was every bit as needy as she.

"You ever been inside Wolfram and Hart?" he asked.

Buffy was having trouble switching gears, down shifting from
a rush of sexual heat to the cooler climate of responding
sensibly to insensible questions. "Yeah," she nodded. "I
stopped in L.A. before I came to Europe. Why?"

He grinned, stepping back from her and taking hold
of her hand. "Come on in and get a load of this," he said,
leading her through the steel and glass doors of Wolfram
and Hart's Rome offices.

~~~~~~~~~~
" Arrivederci, Roma
It's time for us to part..."
~~~~~~~~~~

She stood in the middle of the lobby, examining it with an
amused look. "It's exactly..."

"The same as the one in L.A." Spike finished. "Down to the
last paper clip. There are twelve other branches of the Evil
Empire, and I'd be willing to wager that they're all alike."

"Hmm. Kinda like McDonald's," she mused.

There was no one in the lobby except one lone security
guard who barely glanced at them before waving them
on.

Placing his hands on Buffy's hips, Spike began nudging
her backwards towards an open elevator. "Now see if you
can guess what's on the top floor."

"I give up."

He grinned wickedly. "An apartment reserved for the
big noise whenever he comes to town," he said as
they stepped into the elevator. "Just like the one in
L.A."

Buffy could almost see the wheels turning in his
brain. "Really?"

"Only thing missing is the king of pain himself. Same
tables, same chairs, same lamps...same bed." He
pushed her up against the back wall of the elevator,
pinning her to it with his body. "Want to go upstairs
and defile it?"

~~~~~~~~~~
"Save the wedding bells for my returning
Keep my lover's arms outstretched and yearning
Please be sure the flame of love keeps burning
In her heart...."
~~~~~~~~~~

Part Three....

Stumbling into the suite with their mouths glued
together, they tore at each other's clothing in a
destructive and uncaring way, completely forgetting
that they had nothing else to change into.

The bedroom took a bit of a beating as well. They spent
a little time sitting on an upright chair, then Spike
laid Buffy flat on a small table and proceeded to rattle
all four of its legs.

He pulled her into a sitting position and picked her
up, then carried her across the room and pushed her
against the wall in a reenactment of their first time.

When the window began to shake in its frame and
someone in the next suite pounded on the adjoining
wall, they reluctantly decided to take their fun to bed.

Still tightly submerged in the warm, wet place where he
wanted to spend all his free time, Spike staggered
backwards and collapsed on the mattress, staring up
in slack-jawed delight at the beautifully naked girl on
top of him, rocking his world to its foundations.

Buffy, her breath coming in ragged bursts, placed
her hands on the muscled chest beneath her; using it
as leverage to slide up and down, to swivel her hips,
and to basically ride the hell out of her uncomplaining
lover.

His hands couldn't seem to decide where they wanted
to stay. They moved in a frantic sweep from her hips,
to her waist, then up to mold themselves firmly over
the tempting bounce of her breasts.

Although he was bemused by the intense look of
concentration on her pretty face, he wanted to see...he
NEEDED to see...the emotion in her eyes.

"Buffy...look at me, luv. Open your eyes."

When she did, he noted that they were hazy and
unfocused, and as green as he'd ever seen them.

But, best of all, the love she'd promised him was
just shining in them.

"Have I ever told you," he asked, raising his hips
sharply, "how beautiful you are?"

"Not...not lately."

"Hmm? Well...come here, and I will."

Urging her down, he rolled over and took her in the
position recommended by nine out of ten missionaries
worldwide.

At the same time, he placed his lips against one
shell pink ear and commenced a dialog that ranged
from lovingly tended to insanely raunchy, every word
guaranteed to get her off with all the bells and whistles
he was capable of producing for her.

"Ahh, that's my girl....so pretty....sweet...there she
goes....you like that, sweetheart?...me, too...fuck...so
warm and tight...harder?...want it harder?...I can do
it...as...hard...as...you...want...."

Buffy reached over her head and grabbed the brass
head rail, squeezing it so hard that she bent the frame
when she climaxed. "More."

Levering himself up on his knees, he grabbed her hips
and flipped her over.

"Christ, you've got a luscious ass," he groaned, fondling
the soft curves, his fingers kneading her flesh.

Her blood was rushing through her veins so rapidly that
she felt dizzy. Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek
against the pillow.

Spike pulled back on her hips, bringing her up on her
hands and knees. "Hang on, baby. This is gonna be a
rough ride."

"I can take it."

He took her word for it and drove into her, burying himself
to the hilt in the tender trap between her legs.

They both cried out, unable to hold anything back.

Buffy dug her fingers into the pillow, her nails tearing
the soft cotton case. Her heart was thudding so loudly
that she was surprised it wasn't quitting on her.

Spike fell forward, catching himself on one hand. His
other arm slipped beneath her, lifting her to him a bit
higher as he pounded into her with no caution, no
restraint. Every time his pelvis smacked against her
upturned bottom, he let out a grunt of pleasure.

He wanted to slow down, to make it last, but he was
hopelessly locked into the rhythm. It had been so
damn long since he'd been with her this way. His brain
function had effectively shut down, and his body was
calling all the shots, leaving him with no control, no
judgment, nothing but pure carnal need.

Then again, he'd never had much control where she
was concerned. Being apart from her for so long just
made it all the more fleeting.

But she wanted it this way. She was begging for it,
and he'd never really been capable of saying "no"
to her.

This little lady owned him, body and soul. If she
said "jump", he knew damn well how fast he'd be
asking "how high"?

Love's bitch till the end....but what a way to go!

Buffy's face was flushed. Her lips were parted and
she was breathing erratically...all signs of impending
orgasm. No one knew that better than he did.

He turned her onto her back again. Placing both hands
flat on the mattress, he nudged her thighs farther apart
with his hips.

He pressed the length of his body along hers and
began to thrust even harder and faster, trying to hold
off his own climax until he'd given her a second one
and...oh, fuck!...there she went again...scream-
ing...arching her back taut as a drawn bow...her tight
cunt clenching around his dick in another bed-shaking,
white hot, un-fucking-believable orgasm.

Spike wasn't able to keep it going any longer, not at
this level of intensity. His body was demanding a little
relief, so he let it wash over him.

Burying his face in her hair, he thrust in one more time
and stayed, grinding his hips against her as he
spent himself inside of her in a gush of semen.

He collapsed on top of her with a long, heartfelt groan.

It wasn't until things began to cool down and the world
snapped back into focus, that he became conscious of
a sharp pain at the juncture of his neck and right shoulder.

His fingers rubbed absently at the spot, coming away
with a sticky smear of blood on them.

She'd bitten him! Hard enough to draw blood!

This was certainly a new development. During their
somewhat checkered collection of sexual encounters,
they'd both inflicted and received their fair share of
bruises, scratches and abrasions.

But never once had she allowed him more than a
token nip at her flesh, and she'd certainly never
sank her little teeth into him deeply enough to break
skin, let alone draw blood.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft and girlish, and so
goddamn cute that he couldn't stand it. "I...I couldn't
help myself."

He had to chuckle. "S'all right, luv. Anytime you feel
the need to nibble, you just give in to it."

"Spike!"

"What?"

She clamped down around his shaft, which had returned
to instant stiffness when he'd realized what the slayer
had done.

"You're hard again!"

"So?"

"Well...is it because of...what I did?"

"What do YOU think? Vampire, remember?" He
smiled and began thrusting steadily again, grinding
a little to make it good.

"Oh, baby," she moaned, her head dropping to one
side as her eyes drifted closed. "Do it again."

**************************************************

An hour later, snuggled together under the sheet,
they talked.

"So, tell me what's going on with the little ones. Angel
wouldn't tell me a damn thing, the stupid nit."

Buffy stretched. "Who first?"

"Start with Dawn."

"Ummm...okay. Well, she's in school, doing pretty
well. She got an award for creative writing."

Spike grinned like a proud father. "Good for her."

"Yeah." Buffy giggled. "Guess what she wrote about?"

"Adventures on the Hellmouth?"

"Yep. They called me in for a conference because they
thought something was wrong with her. I managed to
convince them that she just has a really vivid imagination."

"If they only knew." He shook his head. "So, any boys on
the horizon?"

Buffy nodded. "Three or four, actually. They seem to be
fascinated by her American-ness. Is that a word?"

"I doubt it."

"Well, you know what I mean. Let's see...there's Paolo,
Sergio, Enzo, and...believe it or not...Angelo."

"Oh, I don't like THAT one already," he muttered.

Buffy turned on her side, propping her head on her hand.
"He's nice. But she's playing the field these days."

Spike reached for a lock of her hair, absently wrapping it
around his index finger. "Nice is relative," he said. "Is he
good enough for her?"

"Over protective much?"

"Damn right," he nodded. "I invested a lot of time and
energy on that girl. You think I'm gonna just hand her
over to the first Romeo-wanna-be that comes along?"

Buffy didn't reply to that comment. She just smiled
and said, "She's missed you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It was hard for her at first. She felt like you two
parted on bad terms, and it bothered her that you
never got a chance to make things right between you."

He sighed deeply. "Bothered me, too."

"She was so proud of you." Cupping his cheek in her
hand, she brushed her thumb over his lips. "Almost as
proud as I was."

Words he'd never expected to hear, right along with 'I
love you, Spike'.

Before the moment got too sticky, he changed the
subject. "How's Red doing?"

Buffy shrugged. "She's all right. She broke up with
Kennedy, though. I think it was just a rebound thing
anyway," she said, looking at him intently. "Those sorts
of things aren't made to last. You think you're happy,
you TRY to be, but you never quite manage it. You
never stop thinking about the one who isn't there
anymore."

Well, THAT explained a lot. Like her involvement
with the no-longer-Immortal for instance.

"I want you to know," she added, "that I never slept with
him. There hasn't been anyone since you."

Spike cleared his throat, pushing away the memory
of his 'almost tryst' with Harmony. There was no point
in telling her about THAT. Honesty might be the best
policy when a relationship was being rebuilt, but
he wasn't insane.

"Anyway," Buffy continued. "she's in England with
Giles and the potentials. They're putting a new council
together and they've set up a 'Slayer Training Camp'
thing. Faith and Robin are there, too."

"Why aren't YOU there?" he asked, tugging gently
on the lock of hair around his finger.

"Oh, I drop in from time to time," she replied. "I was
actually planning on going when Dawn gets out of
school. I don't want to pull her out in the middle of
the semester."

The sheets rustled as she shifted closer.

"And Xander?"

It was now Buffy's turn to sigh. "I haven't heard from
him lately. He travels a lot, doesn't stay in one place
very long. I think he's sort of hiding."

Spike chuckled. "Hiding from who? Don't tell me
Anya's back on the vengeance trail. What did he do
THIS time? Leave her at the altar...again?"

"No, it's more like he's hiding from himself," she
explained. "Anya's....she didn't make it out."

All the amusement left his face. "Aw, damn it! What
happened?"

"She died saving Andrew. He said she was amazing."

Spike was silent for a moment, then pulled Buffy
closer. "Well, I'm sorry to hear it. Think Xander will
ever come back?"

She nodded, snuggling down into his arms. "I think so.
When he's ready. It takes a while to...to adjust to losing
the person you love. I don't think you ever really get
over it...I know I wouldn't have." Lifting her face, she
burrowed against the side of his neck. "I'm so glad you're
back," she whispered.

"So am I, luv. So am I."

**************************************************

"I've never even seen a bathtub this big before."

"Nice, isn't it?"

Lying propped up against Spike's chest, Buffy picked
up a sponge and an expensive bottle of bath gel. After
soaking the sponge with the fragrant soap, she turned
and began running it up and down his arms and across
his chest.

"Well, this is fun."

She smiled, squeezing the sponge and watching the
lather drip all over him. "Yeah, I'm enjoying it, too."

At her direction, he leaned forward and allowed her to
move behind him. Buffy ran the sponge all over his
back and shoulders, loving him for not complaining
when the soap made contact with the scratches she'd
left on his skin.

Of course he wasn't about to let her have all the fun.

Taking the sponge away from her, he squirted another
glob of bath gel into it and washed her from head to
toe. At one point, he dropped the sponge and spread
the soap over her with his hands, drawing little pictures
on her skin and sliding his soapy palms over her shoulders
and breasts.

His touch was heavenly, both arousing and relaxing her
at the same time. Every bit of leftover tension in her body
disappeared, leaving her weak and pliable in his grasp.

They dried each other, laughing and teasing, then he
picked her up and carried her back to bed.

**************************************************

Spike reached down between her thighs, wetting his
fingers until they were slick and sticky. "Jesus Christ,"
he muttered against her throat. "You're so fucking hot
and wet. You're ready for me so soon."

She was more than ready....

Empty and aching until he guided his thick shaft to
her entrance and slid it in all at once, not stopping
until their lower bodies were pressed tightly together.

Buffy looked up as he loomed over her in the darkened
room. He used her roughly, but with tantalizing skill,
and she wanted it to go on and on, would have loved
nothing more than to lock the door against the outside
world and stay in that bed for the rest of her life.

She'd come a long way from the days when she hadn't
been able to get away fast enough.

His slow, seductive kisses were driving her out of her
mind. God...nobody kissed like him. He knew just
exactly how much pressure to apply, when to slip his
tongue into her mouth and play, when to kiss deeply
and when to barely make contact.

Spike suddenly reared back and looked down between
them at the place where their bodies joined. He watched
as his dick emerged from the slick, hot recess of her
body, then slid back in. In and out, over and over, hot
and wet and tight...the tightest place he'd ever buried
his cock.

Her scent was intoxicating, a dreamy cloud of flowery
sunshine. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes closed tight,
hair a honey colored tangle against the dark blue pillow
case.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen....and she
was his. His, goddamnit! And no one...no one!...was
ever going to take her from him again.

Soul or no soul, he'd kill anyone who tried.

God, her sex was so warm and wet, and so damn soft,
that he could fuck her as hard and deep as he wanted to
without worrying that he might be hurting her.

His hips pumped faster, his head dropping back.

Oh, and there was that sound, that sweet little kitten
sound she made whenever she was being particularly
well pleased, when he was hitting all the right places,
sliding in at just the right angle.

"Spike..."

Forcing his eyes open, he looked down at her.

"I...I want you...want to feel you...want to hold you."

Willingly, he dropped down into her outstretched
arms, letting her take the full weight of his body.

"Yes," she whispered in his ear. "That's perfect. Promise
me...."

"Anything," he ground out.

"Love me forever. Don't ever stop loving me."

"No, baby...could never stop...you're my girl."

She had denied that claim more than once in the past. But
not now. Not ever again.

"Yes. Yours...always be...your girl."

He rewarded her by lifting up just a bit and taking her
breast into his mouth. His tongue rolled over and around
her taut nipple as he applied suction. When he pulled
back and released her, he used his tongue to lick hard,
then soft, then hard again.

Buffy closed her eyes, her hands moving to hold his
head against her and keep him at her breast. She loved
this, and Spike did it so awfully well.

The pleasure burned through her like fire, like flames
licking at her exposed skin. She felt every pull at her
breast reverberate between her legs.

His mouth was ravenous, and when he took her other
nipple between his fingers and pinched gently...oh, it
made her entire body jerk and throb.

Spike's thrusts came fast and hard, driving her to mad-
ness with both his energy and his technique, one of the
few men who never had to sacrifice one for the other.

"Buffy...baby...so fucking good...do it for me, baby..."

Placing her feet flat on the bed, she lifted her hips up,
ramming them into his. "Harder, baby," she moaned
in his ear. "Fuck me harder."

He reached down with one hand and slipped it beneath
the bend of her knee, pulling her leg up as he sank in
a little bit deeper.

That tiny increase in stimulation was all either of them
could take. Panting and grunting, each one crying out
to the other, their passion finally exploded in an orgasm
so intense that they both saw stars.

**************************************************

Hours later, a ringing telephone invaded their
exhausted sleep. Spike grabbed it after the first ring.

"What?...Oh, it's you....Yeah, that's right....Because
I wanted to....Fuck, no!....Well, too bad, I thought of
it first...Keep your fucking voice down, she's asleep."

Buffy rolled over, prying open her sleepy eyes and
focusing on her lover's back. She could hear the
ranting and raving on the other end of the line, and
knew at once who Spike was talking to.

"Yeah, well, sorry it didn't work out that way...No, not
really. It just seemed like the right thing to say...Hey,
it's not MY fault that your balls are too soft to go after
what you want... Yeah?...Same to you!...Look, she's
made her choice and it's NOT you...."

By this point, Buffy had heard enough. She sat up,
leaning against Spike's back. "Come back to bed,
handsome," she purred, speaking loudly enough for
Angel to hear. "I need you."

Spike chuckled. "Got to run. My girl needs tending
to and she won't have anyone but me do it."

Without a word of goodbye, he hung up the phone and
rolled over into Buffy's waiting arms. "He'll be on his
way back the second they refuel that jet, you wait
and see."

Buffy looked perplexed. "On his way back? You mean,
he was here? He came with you?"

"Uh...did I forget to mention that?"

"Uh...yeah! You forgot to mention that."

"Sorry," he said, not looking sorry at all. "I guess
in all the excitement it...slipped my mind?"

"Why is he coming back?"

"Because he doesn't want me anywhere near you."

This made no sense to her. "Than why did he leave with-
out you?"

"You know...that's actually a funny story. Why don't
we go back to your place and I'll tell you why. Trust me,
you'll get a big laugh out of it."

He was right. She did.

The End