Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
Buffy popped the microwave open and scanned the countertops for the meat thermometer. She checked the silverware drawer, then the junk drawer. Nothing. She bent down to look in the cupboard under the sink.
A cool hand cupped her ass. "Mmmm... Don't mind if I do."
"Spike!" She sprang up.
He caressed her from behind, wrapped his arms around her and gave her breasts a possessive squeeze.
Buffy almost buckled from the rumbling he was doing in her ear. Then she remembered why she wanted him to stop. "Spike. Stop. Dawn."
"Actually, it's dusk, love, but--"
"No, my sister, Dawn."
"What's she got to do with this?" He whispered, squeezing harder.
He pulled away. "You brought her back with you?" He looked behind him and lowered his voice. "I thought we'd be alone tonight."
"I know. I just... she wanted to be home, and -- I can't keep asking my friends to take her in. They're gonna suspect something."
"But -- nasty demons. Grrr," he added for emphasis.
"We already know they won't hurt her."
"What about patrolling?"
"Not tonight. She wanted some QT. I can't refuse her that."
"And if the Zuxugnas come here and break down the door?"
"Then we kill them."
Spike sighed. "Alright."
"You'll be good?"
He put his hands in his back pockets. "I'll be good. But I'll be better after she's asleep." He wiggled his eyebrows.
"Spike," she warned with a smile.
Suddenly, he sniffed the air and asked, "Are you--?"
Buffy bristled. "I was making -- in the microwave."
He walked over to it. "Thought I smelled something," he sniffed the cup with a skeptical look, "human..."
She looked a little guilty. "It fell off a truck?"
"You stole human blood for me?"
"Shhhh!" she whispered. "Sort of. Don't get all excited."
"Hey Spike," Dawn said casually as she walked in the room.
"Nibblet," Spike greeted, still staring at Buffy.
* * *
"I don't get it," Dawn said from her spot on the floor. "If she liked him all along, why didn't she just say so in the beginning?"
Buffy and Spike shared a meaningful glance.
"Then there wouldn't be a movie," Buffy answered.
"More fun that way," Spike added.
A little buzzed from the blood, he took the Slayer's bare foot in his lap. She unsuccessfully tried to kick him away.
Upon brushing his fingers softly across a delicate arch, he became aware of a familiar scent.
He stood at the ready. "Shut it off."
Dawn quickly hit a button on the remote control. "What is it?"
"Spike?" Buffy said.
He waved her away, trying to hear.
"Spike," Buffy said again, louder.
"Grab an axe."
"Spike!" Buffy yelled. "Sit down."
He turned to look at her.
She looked vaguely embarrassed. "There are no demons."
"What do you mean? I can sm--"
"No demons, Spike," she asserted.
"You can smell the demons?" Dawn asked, nose wrinkling.
Spike frowned at Buffy, until realization hit.
She smiled shyly.
"Thought I heard something," he told Dawn, and sidled up to his former enemy who could now become fully aroused at his slightest touch.
"Geez," Dawn said, turning the TV back on. "Paranoid much?"
"Much," Spike said, unable to tear his eyes away.
God, he wanted her.
* * *
Dawn yawned and stretched. "I'm beat. I think I'm gonna go to bed."
"But it's still early," Buffy said. The living room clock pointed at 9:30.
"Giles had me cataloging today. I think it fried my brain."
"Working for him again tomorrow?"
"Yup. Every day but Sunday and Monday, all summer. Big bucks."
"Yay big bucks," Buffy said.
"Big yay. Night guys."
"Night, Bit," he said.
"Night, Dawn," she said.
The girl disappeared up the stairs.
"Spike!" Buffy whispered harshly. "Stop! She'll hear!"
He grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.
"Baby's got a treat for Daddy," he said, tongue wiggling out, wicked smile on his face.
Buffy looked horrified. "No!"
Holding her hips, he nuzzled his head between her legs and inhaled heartily. "Oh yes you do."
"Spike! You're disgusting! Leave me alone!"
"Not disgusting! Natural! Beautiful!"
"Oh whatever!" She kicked him off. "This is not a treat for you."
"What were you gonna do? Donate blood, steal it, present it in a fancy mug once a month and just hope I can't pick up the scent?"
She frowned, hating that he was so smart. "That was the plan."
"It's got a completely different scent, you know--"
"I thought you'd at least be distracted--"
"Not that I don't appreciate the gesture."
"Well, it's null and void now," she huffed.
"Why don't you let me have a taste then?"
"From my neck, yes. From there -- no. No no no no no no NO."
"Because it's gross!"
"Come on. I'm a vampire! It's what I do."
"How can it be gross? It's the beauty of human femininity! It means you can make life."
"What's gross is making it your after-dinner drink."
"Buffy, people do it all the time. There's nothing wrong with it."
"Oh yeah? What do they do exactly?"
"Have a good time when the girl's got her monthlies," he sing-songed.
"I'll go down on you," she bargained.
"Before or after I go down on you?"
She sighed. "You're impossible."
"Come on, off with you," he said to her capri jeans.
"First of all, the pants can't hear you." She swatted his impish hand away. "Second, this is a brand new couch--"
"I won't spill," he said with a smile.
"--and my sister could walk down at any minute--"
"I'll take you in the bedroom," he offered.
"No," she said.
"Buffy..." He climbed her body slowly, his demeanor changing as he got to her ear. "I know there's a tiny part of you that wants to give your Spike a little taste."
She shivered underneath him. "Nuh-uh."
"Oh yes... I can feel it," he said as he clasped her hands over her head.
"I hate you," she said, her resolve crumbling.
"No, you don't," he said. "Open up for Daddy. Just for a minute. I'll stop if you don't like it."
"You will not."
"I will!" He kissed her. "Cross my heart."
She rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily. "Okay."
He jumped up and began to unbutton her pants.
"Hey!" She gestured at the stairs.
"I can hear her snoring," Spike said. "She's asleep."
"But... the couch!"
"On the floor then." He rolled them onto the floor.
She struggled as he pulled her pants off. "At least let me go to the bathroom first--"
He yanked down her black cotton panties.
"--to take out the--"
He stopped and stared at it. "What's this?"
She tried to close her legs, but he wouldn't let her. "It's called a tampon, Spike."
He tugged on the string.
Before she could protest, he'd tugged it all the way out. "Spike!"
It dangled in front of his face. He was fascinated.
"Spike! Put it--" She tried to grab a napkin from the coffee table, then saw what he was about to do. "If you dare put that in your mouth I'm never having sex with you ever again."
He shrugged. "One man's tampon," he said, dropping it into his mug of blood, "another man's teabag."
"You're the grossest most disgusting man alive."
"Undead," he corrected.
"Whatever. Get that out of here now."
"Here," he said and stuffed a napkin into the mug to cover it up.
Done with talking, he descended and licked her from bottom to top.
Buffy forgot the points of her argument. All that mattered was his mouth and how it made her feel.
Spike reveled in the taste of her blood. It was delicious; aromatic and sweet. If her come is the food of the gods, he thought, this is the nectar of the Devil Herself.
Spike couldn't stop himself from morphing into the demon he was.
Buffy spasmed helplessly beneath him as he tongued her deeply and rubbed her clitoris. After a few moments, she grabbed hold of his ears, and a blood and come cocktail flowed copiously into his mouth.
Dazed, he dragged Buffy's limp body towards him and thrust into her, grunting in release.
He held onto her tightly as his body calmed.
"Got the bloody part right," she said with a giggle.
"Bloody heaven," he said.
They giggled together.
He moved to kiss her but she pushed him away.
"Whoa, Willy," Buffy said. "Now we shower."