Thanksgiving Day, 2012
"No," Buffy said, and let out a little sigh.
She wasn't all that surprised. Another month, another no; and if trying again meant more Olympic-worthy shagathons like the one she was currently recovering from? She could suck it up and deal.
Except she'd had a little more hope than usual this time. She'd even bought the fancy-shmancy new never-wrong kit that promised results in three seconds.
Pouting at the back of the box, she noticed something she hadn't before: the TrueBlueE-Z3® had a RE-ZultButton®. Press for your three-second result!
"Duh." She pressed it, and the digital display blinked and changed color.
She gasped, hand over her mouth. "...Spike?"
Behind her, at the bathroom sink, he slid a razor up his cheek. "Hmm?"
"Not no." She couldn't stop staring at it. Blue. Positive. "Yes."
"Yes?" He dropped his razor and grabbed the test out of her hand. "It's blue. Is that blue? That's not--" He squinted. "Is it blue?"
"It's totally blue. See?" She pressed the button again and the display switched to Pregnant. "Baby blue." Her eyes met his, and she smiled. "We did it."
"I'll be buggered," he breathed, stunned. "You know, I had a feeling? Like something huge was gonna happen today?"
"Me too." She led his hand beneath her camisole, to her flat-for-now belly. "Guess that something huge is gonna be me."
He cocked a brow.
"Say hello to bunny number three."
"Hello, Bunny." Staring at her lips, he rubbed her belly, then aimed southward as he moved in for a smooch. "Goodbye, Mommy's underpants."
"Stop!" With a giggle, she snatched the towel from his waist to wipe her cheek. "You're getting your cream all over my face."
Snickering evilly, he waved his growing erection at her. "That's the plan."
"No," she said, checking herself in the mirror, "the 'plan' is to call my mother and tell her the amazing news before we get dressed, round up the fam and celebrate Thanksgiving like a normal married couple." She pushed him away again. "Normal. As in not with the constant creamy nakedness?"
"Ooh." He sucked in a breath and stroked his cock. "Say that again."
She threw her hands up and left the room.
"When you gonna get it through your nog, Buffy?" Quickly, he toweled the shaving cream from his neck. "We're not normal!"
"Speak for yourself," she muttered as she grabbed the iPhone on the dresser. She hit the Mom dial, but it made an impotent chirp. The one downside to living in a secluded, to-die-for beachfront estate? No freaking cell phone reception.
She stepped out onto the balcony and held the device toward the sun. "Come on. Give me one bar. Just one... Yes!"
"Tell her at dinner, will you?" A randy, naked Spike python-squeezed her from behind, dug his fingertips into her belly and raised her feet off the ground. "They'll know soon enough. Let's keep this ours for now."
Touched by the sentiment, even though he was dry-humping her crack, she relented. "I guess it can wait."
"Enjoy the moment, yeah?" He tossed her phone onto the lounge chair behind them and swept her hair away from her neck to press his still-stubbled cheek to hers. "You, me, the little sea monkey wiggling around in your tummy..."
"Mm, nothing like the image of wiggling sea monkeys to get a girl in the mood."
"Thought the breathtaking view took care of the romance for me." He kissed her shoulder and eased her camisole strap down. "Do I need to buy you another view?"
Relaxing into him, she ran her fingers through his hair. "Nah, it still does it for me." How could it not? Lush greenery and fragrant flowers sloping toward a private beach, and after that, nothing but ocean and sky.
She thought of the day he'd surprised her with it. For almost a year, she'd been convinced that he was cheating on her -- when in actuality, he and Xander had been remodeling this house in their off time. With their bare hands. Just for her.
It came as such a shock that she was miffed at first: How dare he make such a huge decision without consulting with her? Besides, if she'd known, she could have helped, it would have gone faster and could have even been fun, plus she wouldn't have wasted so much precious energy inspecting his pants and cross-examining every vaguely attractive female he worked with! Including Anya!
But then he showed her this view, and she got it.
"It's not a bad back yard to have," she said, just as she'd said then.
More concerned with her backside than their back yard, Spike spread her ass cheeks. "New kid's gonna have the good life."
"Holy crap. We're having another baby."
"Been too bloody long."
"Has it been too long?" She tried to turn around, but he wouldn't let her. "Did we make the right decision?"
Barely listening as he rubbed against her, he said, "It's perfect, baby. Everything's perfect."
"Seriously, Spike. What if this is too much privilege?" She gestured at their surroundings. "What if it grows up to be Paris Hilton? Or, or one of those lazy playboys with greasy hair and a greasier hatred of women?"
"Chance would kill it first."
"Oh my god!" Her eyes widened. "How do we tell Chance?"
"Bridge," Spike said, tugging her lacy panties down her hips. "Come to it."
She pulled them back up. "She's gonna hate us, isn't she?"
"She's thirteen. She'll hate us no matter what. Now let Big Daddy in."
"You can't be serious." She reached down to stop him from prodding her asshole. "We did this all morning and all last night!"
"But I didn't know you were pregnant then." He murmured against her ear, knowing how pliable it made her. "Come on, kitten. We still got you and me time left..."
"They'll be back any minute now."
"So don't be so bloody loud."
"Me, bloody loud?" She turned to face him and interlocked her fingers behind his neck, lips moving alluringly as she teased, "Was I the one yelling, 'Take it, take my big bad cock Slayer' all night long? 'Cause I don't think I was."
"Mmhm." He'd slipped his hands into her underpants to fondle her ass. "Was I the one who said," he pitched his voice up an octave, "'Look Spike, it's my high school Halloween dress! Remember that night I was so helpless and vulnerable you nearly had your wicked way with me and my defenseless teenage virgin bits?'"
She smirked. "That's not what I said."
"That's what I heard." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Wanna put it on again?"
"You ripped it to shreds. With your teeth."
"Bugger." He shrugged. "Oh well. Least I got it all on tape."
She snorted, then said, "You're joking, right?"
"Maybe, maybe not. You won't know 'til it's on the inter--Ow!" Her stinging slap only served to arouse him more, but she knew that. "That's no way to treat an expectant father, is it?"
"Sure it is." She tapped at his lips, let him bite her fingertips. "If that father is you."
"I do like it rough." He tore her panties in half.
Eyes falling shut, she heaved a sigh and said for what had to be the millionth time, "I liked that pair."
"Pity." He gave them to her, then sat her up on the railing to spread her legs and use the tip of his cock to ease apart her labia. "Add it to my tab."
"That's a mighty big tab you're running, Mister Summers-Hart," she said, and blocked his course with her busted panties. "And we so don't have time for this."
"Funny, I could swear you just called me 'Mister'." For Buffy, that formality was strictly reserved for foreplay. As was the fingernail circling his nipple.
"Still." She stopped touching him, tied the lace-elastic scrap around his neck and fluffed it out. "We have too much to do today."
"Uh-huh," he said, checking her top for seams. "How do I get this off?"
"You don't, because we're not gonna--" In an instant, he managed to destroy the sixty dollar camisole she planned to wear that day. "I hate you."
"I worship you." Starting at her neck, he kissed an ardent trail down her body, sucking and licking her tenderest spots along the way.
"You're lucky you're rich." Balanced on the railing, she nestled one hand in his hair and arched toward his tongue. "And fairly... okay at that."
"Mmhmm," he said, laughter muffled by her skin.
Thumb curving into her pussy, palm flat against her clit, he flicked his tongue into her asshole and stroked himself with his free hand.
She almost let him have his way. After all, he was considerate enough to jump ahead to her fastest route to orgasm, and she didn't hate watching him touch himself...
But then he had to pause to say, "I win again, Slayer."
"Ooh, premature gloating. Will you ever learn?"
Yanking him up by the hair, she kneed him in the chest and watched him fly through one of the French doors and skid across the bedroom floor.
"Tsk tsk." He brushed the glass and busted door frame off of his chest. "You broke the house again, pet."
"Pity." She sauntered up to him, stepped on his throat to thread her toes beneath the underwear she'd tied around his neck, and flexed her foot. "Add it to my tab."
Face turning pink, he seized her ankle and springboarded her onto the bed. "So we're about even, then?"
"Nuh-uh." When he came close, she wrestled him onto his back, climbed aboard, fastened his wrists to the steel bedposts and said, "Now we're even."
Then she got up and left him there.
He watched her choose a new pair of underwear. "Hey!"
"Oh. Did you want something, honey?"
"Buffy, come on...!"
It wasn't that she didn't want to finish what he'd started, because yeah, now she kinda did. The problem was, she'd been his bitch for most of the night, and while that wasn't not fun to play, the power balance had to be restored.
She grinned at his reflection. "Say 'pretty please'."