Buffy looked out the window for the third time that evening and frowned. Out on the sidewalk paced Spike. This time he was heading east on Revello Drive. Last time it was west. In the middle, she, Dawn and Willow had eaten dinner and done the dishes, so who knows how many times he'd gone back and forth.
A rustle of cloth drew her attention to Dawn who'd joined her on the couch to peek out the window.
"Isn't it romantic?"
"...Huh?"
Dawn smiled brilliantly and nodded towards the vampire. "He's protecting us."
"He's stalking us."
"No, no, stalking is sneaking around. He's out there in plain sight to scare away the nasties."
"He is a nasty."
Rolling her eyes, Dawn refused to bicker, continuing blithely, "You never know when a piece of lint might attack you."
"It didn't attack me," Buffy protested, then rolled her eyes and glowered at the swirl of leather duster as it disappeared from view three doors down. "This is stupid. I'm the Slayer. I can protect us."
"You haven't been very patrolly lately," Dawn suggested hesitantly.
"There's no need to patrol our freaking street!" Throwing her hands over her head, Buffy backed off her knees and stomped to the front door. "He needs to go. He's scaring the neighbors." Throwing open the door she stomped out and only dimly heard Dawn's "The neighbors think he's sexy," comment.
By the time her feet hit the sidewalk, Spike was returning from the far corner, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, determined look on his face. When he saw her, he didn't stop, but he did tighten his lips. He came to a halt about five feet from her--out of boot range--and matched her glare.
"Go away."
"The Grundark Clan put a hit out on you. I'm not going anywhere."
"Away, go, shoo!" She made the accompanying hand gestures.
Spike rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. "You can't spot an assassin if they're wearing a big sign and doing a jig. I proved that years ago."
"Oh so don't remind me of those days, Spike," Buffy snarled. "You ruined a really nice ice- skating date with Angel."
Horror crossed his face and he nearly choked. "Ice-skating with the poofter? Did he fall on his big fat arse? That would be the only way to make that a tolerable date."
"Shut up, Spike. And while you're doing that, go away."
"It's a free country and a public sidewalk and I'm not even loitering," he proclaimed. "Or I wasn't before you planted your sweet...er cheeks in my way."
"You're making Dawn nervous."
"Bullshit. 'Bit worships me. Even the witch likes me since I helped her out with Rack. We're all one big happy family." He took two steps towards her and smirked. "Mummy's just permanently on the rag."
Buffy went red and swung and Spike danced back, laughing.
"Gotta do better than that, Slayer."
Her foot nearly found his balls and he winced and spun away. "Now, now, you like the family jewels, remember?"
"You're asking for a big staking!"
His grin widened and he turned so as to shield himself from anyone watching from the house before cupping his 'package' and doing a pelvic thrust worthy of Elvis. "Got your stake right here."
Buffy turned beet red. "God, could you be more cheesy? Or sleazy?"
"Probably. Do you want me to try?"he asked in all mock innocence, then ducked her next fist which was aimed at his nose. "Watch the nose, girl! You've broken it twice this month already."
"Stop sticking it where it doesn't belong and I'll stop breaking it," she snapped back, bouncing lightly on her toes, her adrenaline pumping. Spike always did give her a good fight.
His smirk softened slightly and he dropped his chin, his eyes meeting hers squarely. "Are you sure it's a fight you want, Slayer?" His nostrils flared and he let his eyes drift down her slender body. "Or a fuck?"
With a grunt he doubled over as her foot met his stomach.
"Pig!"
"Not that one won't lead to the other," he gasped out, backing away from a second kick.
"I should have aimed lower."
"The thought of your cute pink toes on my willy is making me all hard."
"Do you ever stop?"
Spike thought about it for a split second, then grinned and shook his head. "No."
Frustrated, she sighed and her shoulders slumped and the fight just fled. The adrenaline remained, though, suddenly finding new and more intriguing channels, and she silently cursed. "Your crypt."
"I'm not leaving your house unguarded."
"I'm not fucking you on the front lawn again!"
They both looked around, then looked back each other and agreed, "Car."
Two minutes later they were in the back seat of the SUV that never got driven because Buffy didn't have a license, Dawn was too young for one, and Willow had a bad penchant for magical accidents behind the wheel.
"I can't believe this is happening again," Buffy muttered as Spike lips and tongue attacked her neck, sending bolts of lust to every nerve ending.
"Like moths to flames we both are," he muttered back, his comment muffled as her pulse throbbed against his teeth. His hands found the hem of her shirt and tugged upwards. She leaned back enough to allow him to remove her top, leaving her in a skimpy lace bra. "Nice," he drawled and buried his mouth in the valley between her breasts.
As his tongue flicked against whatever bare skin it could find, Buffy felt that molten heat start to flow in her veins and perspiration broke out on her forehead and the tops of her breasts. Squirming in her seat, she grabbed his shoulders and yanked the duster down his arms. "Get naked."
"Bossy!"
Pulling back from each other, they both looked at the other for a long, hot moment, then started yanking and tugging and twisting out of their clothes. Buffy ended up with her front clasp bra hanging off her shoulders and her panties off one ankle. Spike simply got his jeans to his knees before lifting her onto his lap. As she straddled his thighs and reached forward to grab the headrest of the driver's seat, he lowered her onto his aching cock and their mutual groans filled the confined space.
As she sank down, Spike's hands moved from her hips to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing her hard little nipples. Resting his head back against the seat, he bucked his hips upward, eliciting a yelp from her. "Move, luv."
Fingers digging into the padded leather, Buffy arched into his hands and lifted her hips. Toes straining for the floor, she used her upper body strength to raise herself, then slammed back down. An inarticulate cry of pleasure broke from her and she did it again, faster this time.
"Fuck, luv, fucking inferno you are. Gonna be my death."
"Shut up," she hissed, though she flushed in pleasure at the evidence of the depth of his feelings for her. When he was inside her, it never seemed to bother her that he cared so much. He pinched one nipple and she yelped again, a throb going from that little bit of flesh to the hot space between her legs. She bounced harder, undulating her back and hips and squeezing her inner muscles around the cock making her wet and aching.
"Yeah, kill me," Spike groaned helplessly as his cock was trapped and massaged and his balls tightened and he knew she was in total control. One shaky hand slid over her belly and between her legs, his fingers finding and rubbing her swollen clit, spreading her slippery juices over her heated skin.
"Guh...uh...harder," she babbled as she rocked her hips and arched her back and rode him hard.
He pressed his thumb against her, and pinched her nipple again. and she went off like a rocket, crying out and trembling and slumping back against him. He caught her neck, guiding her head onto his shoulder, and arched them both, lifting his hips off the seat to drive deeper into her. Hand tightening around her breast until he knew he'd leave a bruise, he growled her name and climaxed with hard, shaky thrusts into her.
Panting, they both collapsed, eyes closed and bodies trembling.
Buffy recovered first, raising back into a seated position and wincing as his cock shifted inside her. The sex had been fast and furious, as usual, and she was sore.
But, in a good way.
"Do that again and we'll be doing it again," Spike mumbled, tired but sated.
"Not an option," she snapped, pulling herself off him with a grimace. Scrambling into her clothes she ignored him eying her every moment, or more likely how her breasts jiggled as she wriggled around in the backseat. "Get dressed! What if someone sees us and comes over?"
"Like you cared so much five minutes ago when you were bouncing on my dick," he complained, but reached down to tug up his jeans. "See my shirt around here?"
Looking down, Buffy saw she was wearing it and cursed vividly before yanking it off and tossing it as his head. Her shirt was on the floor covered in boot prints. "Shit! This was one of my favorites. It didn't have bloodstains on it yet!"
"Last I heard, dirt comes out," Spike replied laconically, shrugging into his shirt and stopping to sniff the collar and drink in the aroma of Buffysweat.
Noticing, she made an 'ewwww' face. "Stop doing that."
"I'll never wash it again." The overly dramatic tone of his voice momentarily drove the bitchy mood out of her and she barked a laugh, then blushed and covered her mouth.
"See, I know you had to be happy on occasion."
"Idiot," but it was said with a modicum of affection. Dropping her eyes, from his smiling face, she brushed as many of the dirt marks off her shirt as she could, before shrugging into it. "So...now what?"
"Back to patrolling."
"Oh geez! Spike, I can take care of myself." She stuffed her feet into her shoes and reached for the door handle, only to have him grab her arm and pull her onto his lap where she squirmed and pushed at his shoulders. "You're like a freaking octopus. Let me go!"
Spike shut her up through the age-old method of kissing the stuffing out of her. As she lay against him, gasping and mewling, her fingers wrapping into his mussy hair, he gave her a stern look. "Deal with it, Slayer. I have your back. Always."
As the knowledge that he really did slipped past her defenses, she sighed softly and let her shoulders slump, then pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "I know you do."
They sat for a moment in peace and silence, then Buffy slipped off his lap and out the door. Spike followed her and as he closed the door heard what sounded like Tarzan on helium coming towards them. Jumping in front of Buffy, fists raised, he nearly fell over his own feet at the sight of a three foot green and furry demon charging them. It was wearing a tiny loin-cloth and carrying what looked like a water balloon.
"Die, Slayer, die," it screamed in its high pitched voice before throwing the water balloon at Buffy, who'd moved up next to Spike.
It splatted on her chest, covering her in honey.
"What the hell?"
Spike gave her a brief look to make sure it hadn't been acid or something else toxic, then snickered and reached out to grab the head of the demon and stop its forward momentum. It squirmed and whaled out at Spike with its tiny fists on stubby arms, but he easily avoided the blows by being neither tiny nor stubby.
"Why am I covered in honey?" Buffy demanded angrily, glaring down at the golden sticky stuff sliding down her cleavage and all over her shirt. "This shirt is never going to come clean!"
The demon stopped squirming and managed to turn its head enough to give her a look of pure bafflement. "I was told this was the best way to kill a Slayer. Damn it! Just because I'm short, my guild brothers think it's funny to make me the butt of all their jokes." It raised its voice, still squeaking, "Come out, Byron. I know it's you, you fucker! All it did was make her sticky!"
"This is getting pathetic," Spike muttered in an aside.
"It's always been pathetic, just like my life." Trying to brush off the honey only made her hands sticky and she grimaced, then kicked the demon across the yard. "If this is the big threat, I'm going to go with feeling insulted."
They both watched the demon scramble up and take off on its tiny legs, still screaming and cursing at the unknown Byron.
"Yeah, I'd go with insulted. Still not going to stop patrolling."
Buffy heaved a huge sigh of resignation and plucked her ruined shirt away from her equally sticky chest. "Do you like honey?"
"Huh?"
"Well, I could try showering all this off, but maybe you'd like to lick it."
"Huh?"
Rolling her eyes at his obtuseness, Buffy stomped towards her house. "Fine, if you want to spend the night out here plodding up and down the street..." Before she could finish her rant, Spike was grabbing her, tossing her over his shoulder--stickiness and all--and bounding for the house.
Dawn stood in the hallway, a concerned look on her face. "Is Buffy okay? Is she oozing...what the hell is that? Is that pus? Because that's very gross!"
"It's honey. Long story. Go to bed like a good girl. Wear earplugs," Spike blurted out before taking the stairs two at a time.
"Huh?"
Dangling over Spike's shoulder, Buffy gave her sister a helpless shrug and tried not to whimper as her clit rubbed just right against the hard bone it was riding against.
End