Spike stepped carefully over a bouncing Buffy to take a seat on the couch behind her.
Arching backward until her shoulders rested between his knees, she grinned at him. "Hi, I'm drunk!"
"Love, you haven't even finished your first glass yet. You can't be drunk."
"Says you." She reached up to tap his lips.
He nipped at her fingertip and smiled. "Bit tipsy, maybe."
"Oooh!" She reached for the remote and muted the TV, gulped down the remaining wine in her glass, then spun around to face him. "Let's watch The Ring. I've been too scared to watch it. Will you hold me during the scary parts?"
Trying to ignore the affect her current position had on him -- kneeling between his legs -- he shook his head adamantly. "Oh no. Seen that with a girl. Made me go to the loo with her for the next three nights."
"Dru made you go to the loo?" She giggled at her rhyme.
"You have another girlfriend?"
"No, no -- she's Xander's wife."
"Oh. He's married? Wow." She looked at him. "You went to the bathroom with Xander's wife?"
"We were on tour. He was asleep. It wasn't sexy, if that's what you're after."
She frowned. "Can I have another glass?"
"At this rate, prob'ly not." He reached for the bottle on the coffee table and poured it for her anyway.
"You're right," she said, smiling at her wine glass as it filled.
"About the horniness." She took a sip, jumped up on the couch beside him and brushed her hair away from her neck, exposing it to him. "Tell me something sexy and whisper it in my ear."
He laughed, gazing at her neck. "I will not."
"C'mon." She faced him, inching her knees to his thigh. "Tell me about your sex life. Like, when was your first time?"
"That's not sexy. Terrifying, more like."
"Mine was sexy. When?"
"I was fifteen," he said.
"Me too! How cool is that?"
"I don't know... Yours was sexy?"
"Oh god, yes. It was... yeah." She looked into her wine glass. "You've been having sex for eleven years."
He chuckled. "Guess so."
"How many girls?"
"Uh..." He looked up at the ceiling. "Well I was with Dru for--"
"Right." She sipped. "So before?"
"God. Fifteen, maybe? Twenty?"
"Ooh, you little manwhore!"
He laughed. "I had a sluttish couple of years, yeah. How 'bout you?"
Buffy snorted. "Two."
He frowned. "Only two?"
"Only two." She lay down and rested her cheek on his lap, facing the mute TV.
"Parker was two?"
She nodded against his leg. Kelly Clarkson was mouthing the words, Surprise! It's time! To feel what's real!
"You've only had sex twice?"
"Oh no." She held up her glass, toasting. "I've had sex a lot."
"Got it," he nodded, suppressing the urge to run his hands through the honey-blonde hair covering his lap. "One lucky bloke, repeatedly."
"In many different positions."
He laughed. "That so?"
"Uh-huh." She sat up again, leaned over, got in his face. "What's your favorite position?"
He looked down, admitting with a shy chuckle, "Missionary."
"Awww!" She slapped his shoulder. "That's the cutest thing ever!"
"Oh, let up."
"I'm serious! No guys love that the best. They mostly like, you know, from behind or whatever."
"Not sayin' I mind that. I just got a thing about..." he waved his hand around his head, "seeing her eyes is all."
She sighed. "That is so sexy of you."
He scrutinized her. Was she serious? And was she really that drunk? God, her eyes were pretty... "Any variation of the theme will do. Legs over the head, whatever."
Her mouth was leaning in to say, "Legs over the head... how?"
And those shiny lips, the way they moved when she flirted -- like she knew how much he wanted them to be elsewhere. "You know." He made another gesture.
"Nuh uh. Show me."
"Show you? No, love. I'm not gonna show you." That much he knew not to do in a situation like this.
"You are gonna. C'mon." She put her wine glass down and sat back on the couch, grasped her ankles and bicycled her legs. "Here I am, I'm like a poseable doll. Show me."
Spike learned right then that it was impossible to say no to her. Because suddenly, he was kneeling before her, sliding her bottom toward him, easing her ankles over her head, and poising himself at her ass. Getting a naughty smile out of her.
His volume dropped to bedroom-level when he said, "Like this. Or..." he latched her bare feet around his neck and leaned forward. "Also," he brought her legs down, wrapped them around his waist, "this. Or..." he unhooked her legs, spread them wide. "Nice split."
"Gymnast," she said, flashing a grin. "Wanna see my favorite?" She grabbed him by the t-shirt collar and sat up. "On your back."
Unable to disobey, he lay prone on the couch, and she straddled him. "Like this," she said, gyrating once on top of him, and turned around, her back to him. "Or like this." She spun around again. "But mostly like this."
He gripped her hips to stop the wiggling and rasped, "Right..."
"And? I love to give blowjobs." She ground into him at the love.
His voice came out barely more than a squeak. "Do you?"
"I really do." She fingered his belt buckle.
He grabbed her hands. She was drunk. This was wrong. "Prob'ly best not to... demonstrate..."
"I mean, some girls hate to give it, you know?" Her fingers weaved into his. "But I don't. Guy looks so... helpless and amazed and stuff. It's such a turn-on."
"Helpless and amazed, yeah. I think I can relate."
"Mmhmm." Lifting his hands over his head, she bent forward until their noses almost touched. "Do you like to... give it?"
He nodded several times, swallowed. "Oh yeah, love it."
"I bet you're good at it too. Show me your tongue."
He unclasped his hands from hers and stilled her hips, choking, "Buffy?"
Searching her eyes, he whispered, "What are you doing?"
She frowned, and sat up. He doesn't want me. "I--um--" When his hard-on pulsed against her, her eyes widened. Or maybe he does. She dismounted and fell to the floor.
He didn't move, kept his eyes on the ceiling. "You alright?"
"Uh-huh," she whimpered, lying very still on the soft Berber carpet. What AM I doing? What the hell am I doing?
"I uh, I think we should call it a night," he said.