Buffy was being baked alive.
...At least it felt that way.
On what happened to be the hottest night in Sunnydale's history, a rolling black-out was in effect. Which roughly translated to No a/c, no electric fan, no relief.
Fitting luck for a town built over a Hellmouth.
Her throat constricting in the thick, ovenish air, she languidly pictured the next day's headline: "Slayer, Victorious Over Evil Hell-God, Dies In Sweltering Heat."
She closed her eyes and wished for sleep. Or death. Whichever came first.
"Buffy?" A male voice.
Eyes fluttered open. "Riley?"
"No, it's me, love." A face materialized from the shadows. Spike.
Oh right, she remembered. He was staying over again tonight, helping Dawn recover from The Ordeal while big sis got some much-needed rest.
She was grateful. But now he was in her room, and that was never good.
He approached the bed.
Now was a good time to tell him to leave, but she found herself unable to form words.
"Buffy," he said softly. "Dawn's asleep. Just wanted to check that you're alright." He reached down to caress her shoulder.
"Cold!" Her hand captured his, guiding it to her face -- his vampiric chill a welcome relief from the stifling heat.
"Apparently... not," Spike surmised in answer to his query. After all, Buffy was nuzzling against him, her once mortal enemy. He chuckled. "The heat's makin' you delirious, pet."
Mindlessly, she led his hand down her neck, under the thin, sweat-soaked cotton sheet and along her chest, over her belly and across her thighs. "Not that I mind," he added, suddenly short of breath.
"Please," Buffy whimpered. It was so hot where he wasn't. So hot.
Mercifully, Spike knew what she needed. "Don't worry baby, Daddy's got your cure."
He began to undress.
Buffy's logic screamed that this was not okay, but all too soon he was naked, and Logic was suddenly at a loss for words.
Relief was immediate as his cool body covered hers. More childish urgings escaped from her lips unchecked: "Mmmm... So cold! So mmmm... Spike, don't go away, 'kay?"
"I won't ever leave you, baby," Spike reassured her. "I'll stay here forever if I have to." His hands slid over her body, across her burning limbs. "My hot little fireball."
My living ice pack, she thought dizzily. She wrapped her arms around him and tangled her fingers in his hair. "Mmmm..."
Spike growled low in his throat, directly into Buffy's ear. White-hot shivers shot down her body, lingering at her sex.
Wait... Some far away voice told her this was not a good reaction.
Softly, he began to kiss her -- first her neck, then her cheek, her forehead, her neck again, her chin.
Buffy gave in to the sensations. When she opened her eyes, they were level with his.
"Spike." The urgency in her voice surprised them both.
And suddenly, their mouths were fused in the hottest, iciest kiss she'd ever tasted. I was a kid with Angel, her mind pictures told her. I'm a woman now.
Aching with longing, she yanked away the sheet that separated them. "Kiss me all over."
He gazed at her body for a beat, and quickly obliged. Kissing the swell of her breasts first, he teased a hardening nipple until she squealed, licked down her belly, and stopped at her thighs. Kneeling on the floor, Spike waited, unsure of how far he was allowed to go.
Buffy hooked her leg over his shoulder and pulled him slightly forward. There was no mistaking the invitation. Clearly, the cooling action wasn't all she needed from Spike.
He hesitated for a moment, then began to tickle her inner thighs with his soft icy lips, moving slowly closer to her swollen center.
She groaned, attempting to grab his head and force his tongue on her clit.
"Ah ah ah..." he said, continuing his maddening teasing.
The bastard's waiting for me to beg for it! she thought with a brief return of her trademark indignance. Who the hell does he think he...
"Spike! Please!" She bucked forward. She could see her own slick wetness glistening in the moonlight. Can't he see that I'm dying?
She saw his face break into a wide, self-satisfied smile.
Before she had to beg again, he'd dipped his head and was feasting on her hungrily. That's more like ...yes...
She felt his fangs elongate. Spike jerked his head up, trying to reel the monster back in. Buffy snorted in amusement.
"Sorry, love," he said, looking slightly shamed.
She shrugged and pushed his head back down.
"Knew I loved you for a reason," he said before he continued, careful not to bite.
When she felt a powerful orgasm coming on, she grabbed him by the hair and tugged him upwards.
She wanted all of him.
As he mounted her, Buffy pulled him close for a kiss, tasting her lemony juices on his lips. His human face was back. She consciously noted for the first time how much she liked it.
As they locked eyes, something strange; something other than lust came over her. But before she could figure out what it was, Spike thrust into her, burying his cock to the hilt. Buffy cried out in surprise.
Looks of shock and pleasure dueled on his face. "So hot..."
"Cold," she whispered with a smile.
"So... bloody... tight..."
She breathlessly repeated one word -- "Yes" -- as they moved in rhythm, each thrust harder and faster than the one before it.
She felt a sting on her lip and tasted blood: he'd started to vamp out again. "Slayer, oh Hell," Spike exalted. "Bloody... Hell!" His eyes tinged yellow. Human snarls were replaced by a pantheric growl.
Buffy gasped for air as she watched him change. Losing the last bastion of control, she bared her neck and yanked him down. "Just stop when I tell you," she managed to sputter.
He bit down into her soft, buttery flesh and drank.
In her mind, door after door after door swung open, corridors and doors into space, into nothingness, into oblivion.
Overcome by intense, undulating torrents of release, she wailed his name.
* * *
Buffy awoke, naked and sweating, her fingernails digging into her neck, sheets bunched between her thighs and her own come pooling beneath her.
The first thing she noticed was the chill in the room -- of course, the power had gone back on, and the central air had kicked in. And that's why she'd --
She sat up, the dream before her in all its Technicolor detail. A sex dream.
A dream of sex.
Starring her ...and Spike.
She felt her inner muscles clench and release.
"Oh," she said shakily, riding out the last exquisite wave of her very first multiple orgasm.
Suddenly, the door to her room flew open. Spike, fully dressed, stood there panting. "What's wrong?"
She stared at him aghast, paralyzed with... embarrassment? Or was it lust? Her voice cracked a hoarse "Huh?"
He looked around the room, bewildered. "You yelled my name not two seconds ago. Sounded panicked. I was downstairs, and..." He focused on her moonlit form and his body language loosened. "You're naked."
She looked down at her bare breasts and jerked the sheet up. Her mind tried to work frantically. "I had a dream."
He moved towards her, sensing something... interesting. "What kind of dream, exactly?"
"No kind!" she cried. "No kind of dream. A bad, bad--"
He came closer.
"Just-- Don't..." She held up her hand, Supremes-style. "Go!"
His nostrils flared. There was a fascinating blend of fluids on that hand. "Go? ...Or don't go?"
Buffy took a deep breath, gathering her wits and her resolve. "Go. Please go."
The room was heavy with her arousal. The last thing he wanted to do was leave. "You sure?"
"Spike!" Her voice cracked again.
He chuckled softly. "Alright, Slayer. But you better tell me all about this dream in the morning."
Lifting a brow, he added, "Smells like fun."
She gasped as his lascivious meaning hit her.
Grabbing the closest stuffed animal, she chucked it at his retreating form. "Damn vampires!"
He laughed heartily out the door.
Buffy blinked, surprised at herself. Spike knew exactly what kind of dream she'd had and had the nerve to say so. She should have been mortified, or at least angry. But all she really felt was a strange, womanly satisfaction.
Maybe it was the multiple orgasm.
Buffy smiled. A new headline flashed in her mind: "Slayer, Victorious Over Evil Hell-God, Lets Soulless Vampire Fuck Her to Death."
With feline contentment, she curled up and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.