Spike was on edge.
The weather was perfect. Chance was content. Xander hadn't lost the ring. Giles gave his surrogate daughter away -- willingly, even. Most important, Buffy had yet to run screaming; and Angel, bless his flammable little heart, couldn't possibly interfere due to the hot ball of fire hanging in the sky.
At least not in the physical sense.
He'd witnessed this exact scene before, in a demigod's doctored vision. But in this version -- the real one -- he was the lucky blighter she chose to have, hold and shag for as long as they both shall live.
No question, he'd hooked the grand prize, scored the golden ticket, stolen the World bloody Cup of Existence in a dark horse victory of epic proportions: Somehow, he'd convinced this extraordinary girl to love him.
Now, all she had to do was say yes.
Please don't come to your senses and realize you're making a horrible mistake. Please don't look at me and say, "I can't do this."
Buffy was surprised by his anxiety. Did he really think she would have second thoughts now? Had he been present since their daughter was born?
It was her turn to speak. Did she take him as her hot He-Slayer of a husband?
Buffy threw her head back, vocalizing in hot, secret whispers as her muscles spasmed. "Yes! Ohhh, yeah!"
"Shit," he said, suddenly seeing a glitch in the genius of this spontaneous tryst. "Where do I come?"
She hissed over her shoulder, "If you get anything on my dress--"
"Yeah. Yeah. I know. Blasted dress." The dress was the reason this was happening. One look at her all satin-dolled up just for him and he couldn't help himself. "Not hard to fix your lipstick, yeah? I'll make it up to you, please, just--"
"Fine." She pushed him off, dropped to her knees and warned, "Don't touch the hair," before getting her blush-pink lipstick all over him.
As he erupted with a stifled roar, she held fast and swallowed until he was done.
Looking up at him fixing his tuxedo, she said, "You're not gonna clean that off?"
He shrugged. "I'm thinking of getting it tattooed. 'For Buffy's lips only'."
She looked down at her crumpled dress. "You weren't even supposed to see me."
"Wasn't supposed to live past the roaring '20s either," he said, smoothing his hair back in the mirror.
Then he heard her whimper.
Buffy was crying into the bedspread, lovely coif threatening to loosen, yards of white satin bunched around her on the floor.
"Baby, what is it? What's wrong?" He crouched at her side. "If this is about last night, I swear, there were no strippers. Just poker and booze--"
She shook her head. "I don't care about that."
"Well... I'm sorry I saw you and you know, debased you, but your dress is fine, and it's only superstition--"
She was shaking her head again, and said through sobs, "My life is too good right now. Something is about to go horribly wrong, I just know it."
"Hey." He turned her chin toward him. "Cross that bridge when it crumbles, pet. You and me and our baby girl, we got each other now and we won't give any of it up without a fight. Right?"
She bit her lip and nodded.
"Waiting for the worst to happen, that's no way to live," he said. "Give the good life a chance and I promise you I'll make it worth your while."
She sniffled, wiped the drying tears from her face.
"So." He stood and gave her his hand. "Still want to go steady?"
Buffy chuckled at her groom, so endearingly racked with insecurity since she'd stepped up to the vine-covered altar.
"I do," she told the world. "I really, really do."
* * *
"We're a happy family, we're a happy family, me, Mom and Dad-dy!"
Was that Spike... singing? Clasping her towel closed, Buffy peeked out of the bathroom door to see him serenading their daughter with a jaunty punk rock tune.
"Sittin' here in Queens, eating refried beans, we're in all the magaz--" He caught a glimpse of Buffy standing against the doorframe, watching with a smirk. "She likes it."
"Are ya sure? Her 'happy' face and 'about to spit up' face, kinda similar."
"Now pet, don't be jealous." He gently returned Chance to her crib. "You get to play with Daddy all the time."
"True," she said, sauntering up to him. "I get all the best play."
He eased the clip out of her hair, let her upswept locks tumble down. Tugged her towel off and slid his predatory gaze over her supple skin. "Daddy's suddenly feelin' playful."
She traced the outline of his growing hard-on. "Mommy can tell."
They melted into one another, and he lifted her up slightly to fondle her ass, then dipped a finger into her wet slit.
"Mm-mm," she tore her lips away from his, and he continued to kiss her neck. "Not in front of the baby."
"Right." He wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her to the honeymoon suite's hallway. "She can't see us here."
He hoisted her up on his shoulders and cleaved his tongue into her, immediately silencing any protests.
Effortless acrobatics. One of the many perks of having a Superslayer for a boyfriend.
She moaned and writhed and shimmied in mid-air while he fucked her with his tongue, licked from bottom to top, side to side, whatever made her freeze up and hold her breath, her signal for 'don't you dare stop what you're doing right now, or else'.
When he finally suckled on her clit, he was rewarded with a throaty cry and a gush of tangy come.
Spent and gasping, she went limp as he pushed her up against the wall and very vocally relished every little ooze of her.
One thing she'd learned since he turned human? His obsession with her bodily fluids wasn't a vampire thing -- it was a Spike thing. He loved her so much he wanted to consume her, and who was she to deem it wrong when it felt so very, very right?
He slid her down to eye level and said, "You sweet, succulent thing."
He kissed her -- loved to share her flavor -- and must have shed his pants along the way because she was swiftly impaled on his naked cock.
Defying gravity, him standing, her legs coiled around his hips, they fucked each other into a frenzy, until he flattened her on the carpeted floor and pulled out just in time to shoot his load onto her stomach.
Just as he was about to collapse on top of her, Chance began to wail.
"Oh, hey," Buffy said, panting. "Timing improvement."
"We had a talk, she and I." Breath ragged, he sat up, picked up the towel to wipe himself clean and tossed it to Buffy. "I said I'd teach her all the songs in the Ramones catalog if she'd let us shag for a full seven minutes."
"Negotiation tip?" She mopped up the mess and crawled to her robe. "Push for ten next time."
"Now you know that's a deal breaker, isn't it, Bunny?" Chance continued to cry in his arms. "You want Mummy, do you? I agree, she does have the tastiest sippies in all the land. Just remember to save some for me."
She took the baby. "I should be disturbed by that."
He ran his finger down her nose, then Chance's. "But you're not."
"Just do me a favor tonight, and try not to discuss any more of your kinks with members of the Council?"
"What?" They'd spent the day at headquarters, where he was treated like a rock star. Couldn't blame him for going Behind The Music when they were all so bloody interested. "She wanted to know about changes in my eating habits. For the sake of scientific comparative evaluation and what-all."
"She wanted to know if you still had a taste for blood, not breast milk." She hrumphed and muttered, "And if you ask me, there was nothing 'scientific' about the way she was evaluating you."
He gasped. "I knew it! I knew you were jealous of her."
"No, she's jealous of me, okay? I'm the one who gets to sleep with her idol." Over his sniggering, she said, "Little Watcher tramp. She is not sitting next to you at dinner."
"Keep talking like that," he said, "and we're staying in."
"Oh, no. We're going." She put her snoozing daughter down. "You're gonna whisper French nothings in my ear and act like I'm the only woman in the world, while outright ignoring her and her oh-so-wonderbra-enhanced cleavage."
Gazing at her adoringly throughout her rant, he said in French, "You are the only woman in the world," and kissed her.
One Week Later
"No," Buffy pleaded with the stick in her hand. "No! No! No! This can't happen!"
Spike opened the bathroom door only to be attacked by soaring plastic. "Ow! What's--?"
"Your fault!" She threw the box at him.
He caught it in motion, squinted at it, then picked up the stick, white with a blue window at the end.
Wait. Blue? He looked at the box again, and back at the stick. Positive?
"Is this--? Are you--?"
"Blue?" Hand on hip, she sassed, "Stick don't lie."
"Well you see, when a human boy and a human girl don't use protection because the boy is a stubborn jackass who can't stand to let anything get in the way of his all-important pleasure, miracles like this can happen." She began to pace, hands in her hair. "'I'll pull out just in the nick'? Why did I trust you? Why didn't I go on the pill? And wipe that horny smirk off your face; I'm not going through this again!"
The smirk became a wicked grin as he flung the testing apparatus aside and rubbed his evil hands together. "Three full months of round-y, slow-moving-airplane Buffy."
"You did this on purpose!" She chucked a mini shampoo bottle at him. "You tricked me!"
"I swear I didn't!" He laughed, deflecting more tossed items. "It's not like I ever had to worry about this before!" His demeanor shifted into horny overdrive again. "My gorgeous, gestating goddess."
"Shoo!" She darted out of the bathroom.
He shadowed her at a firm, menacing pace. "My fertile font of fecundity."
"Okay, those F words?" She backed away from him, trying to remain indignant. "Not sexy!"
"Hmm." His nose feathered against hers. "Then why are you getting wet?"
"Let's find out." He tossed her onto the honeymoon suite bed, then jumped on top of her, flinging her legs over his shoulders. He slid two fingers under her panties and showed her the glistening result. "What's this?"
"Don't change the subject!"
"Nothing more to say." He rubbed her dew on her mouth and kissed her. "Daddy's gonna fill you up with Slayer babies."
"No he will not!" She couldn't help but squeal as he nipped and growled at her neck.
"Two and counting. I'm on a bloody roll."
"I don't think so, Energizer Bunny." Fingers on his chest, she pushed him up. "After this one comes out, you are not touching me unless you are swathed in Kevlar. Swathed! Kevlar!"
"Right then." He yanked off her panties, gave them a quick, deep sniff and tossed them aside. "Better make the most of it."
"I mean it, Spike! This is the last one, ever! You got that?"
"Whatever you say," he pushed into her slick folds, "my wet..."
NOW READ THE SEQUEL:
At It Like Rabbits
The Final Chapter of the Love Bunnies Saga!