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After Hours

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Buffy tapped her foot against the leg of the desk to the song stuck in her head as she looked at the stack of papers in front of her, illuminated by the few lights left on in the office. She hated her job.

All for the money. It's all for the money.

She tried to remind herself that, over and over again. It was a temp job at some law firm she didn't care about. It wasn't as though she had any real skills or schooling so it was all she could get, a job like this, where she spent her time alphabetizing, filing, scanning, and organizing. As she looked at the mile high stack of files on her desk, she slammed her forehead to the table and closed her eyes.

This is hell. Hell is this.

She was staying late because she had screwed everything up the day before and Mr. Snyder -the boss- yelled at her to stay until she got it right or she would be fired. Being fired from this job actually did not sound all that bad but she needed the money to pay rent for her and her little sister. Dawn was still in high school so she wasn't working much. She picked up a few hours at the Magic Box where Buffy's best friends worked but Buffy was the one bringing home the bacon. Rolling in the dough. Bringing home that lettuce.

God, she wanted a burger.

It might have been better if Mr. William Pratt was not also working late. When she first started to work there, which was…oh god- only a few weeks ago?! Hell moved slowly. Well, when she first started to work there she knew he was going to be trouble. He was one pinch away from a sexual harassment charge. He was a pig, plain and simple. He was obnoxious and rude and cocky and dammit he was attractive.

It wasn't fair. The pretty, pretty wrapping did not match the person inside. He had a charming British accent, coy smirks, and that body was just…unfortunately built. He also had some wickedly bleached hair, some carved cheekbones, gorgeous suits, and ugh, god, she was so done thinking about him. He was a pig who told her she should wear more see-thru shirts to give him something to look at –even if there wasn't much there.

P. I. G.

She did, in fact, kick him in the balls for that one -sending him doubling over in the copy machine. It was satisfactory but apparently he liked the hurt because he just kept trying to make her mad. She knew he would be no different after hours.

So there he sat. At his desk. Feet up. Leaning back. Oh she could just kick his chair and he would-

"Take a picture, pet. It'll last longer."

Buffy rolled her eyes to the extreme level as she went back to sorting through the papers. She did not deserve to be here. It was not her fault she messed everything up before. She wasn't a lawyer. She didn't know these things! Every paper just looked the same. Organizing them by date? There were a thousand different dates on each one!

As she was flipping the pages out over the table, she was distracted by the smacking sound of the lawyer's lips as he licked his finger to flip the pages in his hand.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Licking and flipping. Licking and flipping. Licking and-

"Can you stop?" She snapped.

He looked up from the page at her with eyebrows raised in confusion and gave her one of those confident half smiles. "What the bloody hell are you on about?"

"Just flip the page. You don't need to get your DNA over everything."

"What's the matter with my DNA?"

"I'm the one filing. You get it on those and it'll get on me."

"There are other ways to get it on you. If that's what you're getting at."

"Oh my god. You are such a pig. Just stop licking the damn pages. I don't want any bit of you touching me."

"You say that now-"

"Never."

"Now that's not very nice."

"I'm not very nice."

"I can see that."

Oooh he was just loving it. She shut up and bit her lip to keep him from working her up more. Of course, he didn't listen to her and in fact just started to make more noise by licking his lips louder and sighing as he flipped every single page.

Every. Single. Page.

She glared in his direction before turning back around and stomping from her desk chair to the side table where she flipped on the radio and turned it loud. He watched with a grin as she ignored him and went back to sorting the pile after pile of papers.

Johnson. She put Johnson somewhere. Where did it go? Where are you Mr. Johnson?

She walked around the cabinet, tapping her foot to the music, as she opened the drawer to find the tab. Before she knew it, she was dancing to a catchy song, tilting her body side to side as she looked for the correct folder. Alright, she could do this. Just listen to the music, do the job, and she would be done in an hour…or two.

That's when she just had to go and turn around and look at him for a moment. Just a moment! But it was enough to see that grin of his, near laughing as he saw her face redden in color.

"Oh no, don't stop on my behalf." He licked a line across his bottom lip and gave her a wiggle of the brows and shoulder. "I was enjoying it."

"Don't you have work to do? Murderers to defend? Money to steal?"

"What is it you think I do? I'm not Tom Hagen."

"Just do your work and I'll do mine."

"Right, wouldn't want to make you lose your place. A- B- C- D- E- F- G-"

"Shut up."

"I didn't know you felt so passionately about your work."

"Ten, nine, eight,-"

"I think you're going the wrong way there pet."

"I'm counting down so I don't kick you in the face."

"Anger issues. Can't say I don't like that."

"Why am I even talking to you?" She mumbled as she turned away.

"Cus you're bored. I'm bored. Let's fill the gap with something more fun."

"Let me guess? Strip poker."

"I was just going to pull out this tequila-" He dropped his legs and opened the bottom drawer to his desk, fishing around and tossing the bottle up into his hand. "-but hey if you want to play-"

"Stop." She threw up her hands and physically tried to shake away the mental image of them naked with a deck of cards and an empty bottle between them. "Just stop."

"Not a drinker then?" He slid the bottle over his papers and near the side of the desk she was closest to. "Didn't think you were. You have lightweight written all over you."

"Shut up." She growled again, reading the same page in her hand over again.

Mr. Johnson. Mr. J. Mr. J. J. Johnson.

"Take one." He turned the bottle around and tossed a small shot glass next to it. "I'll shut up if you take one shot."

"Why?"

"I wanna see you loosen up a bit. You come in here every day looking like you're walking into the dentist. Take your Novocain-" He slid the bottle closer, "-and maybe it won't be so bad."

"Alcohol won't make this job any better."

"I've been working here longer. Trust me."

"Do you always drink when working on cases?"

"The appropriate amount. Come on. It can't make it worse."

Buff looked at him and groaned. She was a lightweight and she hadn't drank in a very long time. But one shot wouldn't be so bad. It would relax her enough to deal with Mr. Pratt and finish her work and make it home to Dawn so she could enjoy a late dinner –probably in burger form. He also said he would shut up so…"One."

"Thatta girl!"

She already regretted agreeing to it from the glee that filled his voice alone but walked to his desk all the same and watched as he poured her a small shot. He looked a bit too much like he won something but it was all to get through the night. Just a few more hours. She lifted the shot and he took up his own, held it out to her and smiled. "Cheers."

She rolled her eyes, clicked their glasses, and downed it in one go -coughing a bit and shaking her face as the alcohol burned her throat. Yup, it had been a while. Mr. Pratt just giggled at her and shook his head as he swallowed his like a pro, "See, you look better already. Want another?"

"I said one." She tipped the glass over and slid it next to the bottle. "I meant it."

"Alright. Whatever you say princess."

"And you said you would shut up. So, you know…shut up."

"Alright." He held up his hands and she walked back over the dreadful papers but as she turned around to find that damn Johnson folder, he popped up right behind her and stopped her in her tracks. "So why do you keep coming back?"

"What?"

"Here. You hate this job."

"No, that's just you I hate."

"You loathe everything about coming here."

"Yes. You included."

"Oh sweetheart, you-"

"Buffy. Mr. Pratt, my name is Buffy. Not sweetheart, not pet, not blondie, not princess. Buffy."

"Spike."

"What?"

He took a step forward, making her take a step back. "My name."

"William?"

"No it's Spike. Well that's what my friends call me."

"You have friends?"

"You're hilarious."

"Alright, Spike. Go be a good dog and sit so I can get this done." She slipped to the side and tried to open the drawer, cursing to herself when she realized the bottom one had opened and prevented her from getting to the top. Whose idea was it to make these things so only one drawer could open at a time?! She kept banging and making noises and Spike was just standing there and smiling and oh she was so done with this day.

"I like it when you get all commanding. We outta get you whip. Hair up, glasses on, you could be the perfect strict librarian."

"You're disgusting." She gave up and went back to drop the files on her desk, reaching for another and mentally groaning as he followed her back like a lost puppy.

"Defensive. Me thinks thou dost protest too much."

"Me thinks thou should get the hell away."

"I think you like the attention. I think you like it when I talk dirty to you."

"I think you're delusional and want to see me kick you in the balls again."

"Try."

She couldn't resist the challenge and as she turned to him she lifted her leg to knee him. He knew it was coming so he pushed it away and came up fast, grabbing her by the wrists and holding her in place.

"Let go of me."

"Do you really want that?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if-"

"Now!"

"Why can't you just admit it?!" He finally yelled, pulling her closer as she maneuvered her wrists in his. "Why can't you just admit you're attracted to me?"

"Because I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No, I'm-" She was cut off as his face crushed down on top of hers. She struggled and pushed him away, slamming his back into the filing cabinet and making the open drawer close. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"You kissed me back." There was that stupid ass confident smile with that tongue rolling behind his teeth and it just made her so mad.

"The hell I did!"

"You want me to do it again."

"I dare you to try."

Of course, he could not resist a challenge either and pushed off the metal, trying to close the small gap between them. She pushed him straight back against the cabinet and he grabbed her by the wrists, pulling her in closer and smacking his lips down again. She kept her arms straight but he pulled her wrists up more and she tripped forward until her elbows bent and she pressed against his front. She tried to pull away but there her hands were, stuck in the jacket of his suit. He moved his hands off her and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her off the ground and straight out of her heels.

It was all just one giant dizzy blur. His lips were moving, pushing, pulling against her as she tightened her grip into the jacket to try to keep herself from falling into it. She wasn't sure when her lips had stopped clamping down or when she started pushing him back, fighting him off by pouting them out.

Stupid tequila.

She tried to bite him away, snagging his lower lip between her teeth and chomping down hard. He grunted at the pain but refused to let go. Instead, pushing off the filing cabinet and pushing her back, walking their stumbling selves until her thighs bumped into the back of her messy desk.

"Pig."

"Bitch."

She gasped as the back of her dress hitched and his calloused hands replaced the harsh edge of the desk, dug into her flesh and picked her the rest of the way from the ground. Papers crunched as she slid onto it, her hands ripping out the lapels of his jacket and pulling them over his shoulders. Their lips parted with a pant as he pulled away to shuck the constricting fabric, annoyed that he even had the thing on. Usually he was seen without it, ignoring the dress code, but he had an idiotic meeting that day with idiotic lawyers and he wore that damn idiotic good-looking suit with the faded stripe print. Her stupid favorite.

The charcoal piece dropped somewhere to the ground as Spike grabbed her by the waist again and pulled her close, her legs automatically wrapping around his body –her ankles crossing behind his ass. She felt a thrill run through her as her open legs pressed into his waist and her center pressed up against the stiff member hiding under those pants. She moaned into his mouth as he curled his fingers into her side and tugged her dress up from there until she wiggled and it freed its way from the curves of her body, rolling up around her stomach.

As her lips continued to tug and their teeth continued to clash, she slipped her hands quickly down to his waist, fumbling with the belt until she found the clasp. With frantic whines and moves, she unhooked the stubborn thing and pulled it out, tossing it away as she jumped back to undoing the zip and tugging the pants down. She pushed them until they fell to his knees and pulled with her legs again, hauling his body right back against hers and jumping with a sudden rush of desire as his hot erection pressed against the thin fabric of her thong and onto the swollen passion of her center.

Her hands ducked under his shirt, jumped across his hipbones, and around the member sliding against her inner thigh. She rolled her palm around him and jerked her hand to the head, her fingers sliding over his slit before she tugged back down. She felt her body curve as his nails dug into the muscles of her side and his mouth popped away with a gasp. With another light trail of fingers over his most sensitive part, his forehead pressed against hers and he huffed against her lips, "Buffy-"

A loud groan filled the air as her hand did another pass over his shaft, her hand twisting at the wrist before pulling back up with a quick yank. His hands slid down fast. They soared to her hips, his fingers dipping under the strings of her underwear and tugging them away. She dropped her hand and unhooked her feet as he quickly knelt and pulled the fabric away, throwing it over his shoulder as he came colliding back into her.

His fingers slid over her curls and brushed over her clit, making her back arch into the touch and her hands clamp down on the edge of her desk. The digits flicked their way down her folds and slipped into the damp space outside her entrance. She moaned when she felt his fingers slide in, the walls within her searching for something to fill the space, but it was not enough. She needed more.

She blindly reached out and grabbed his cock, pulling him so hard he fell forward. She scooted over to the edge and lined him up, the need now a definite pulse spreading through her body with every beat of her heart. His fingers slipped out and gripped the edge of her legs as she pressed his head towards the slick warmth to fill their place. He pushed, she pulled, and she tipped her hips forward until he slid past the rings of muscles and into her body. She gasped and her toes curled as her hands jumped to his hips at the sudden feeling of pleasure overpowering her. He rocked up, his fingers leaving angry red scratches down her flesh as he pulled her body towards him -the effect consuming every part of her.

Her breath hitched as he split her open and filled her up. She cried out in relief as he started to move and she pulled him close, rolling her body over the edge to catch every inch he had to offer in his upward thrusts.

His hands were back to scrunching her dress and then he started pushing her down. Her arms flew out to catch her, sending papers flying everywhere. He hovered over her and she pulled him down by his shoulders as he rocked her across the desk. She rolled her hips up as the table screeched and she was pushed to her limits. She had drop her hands in order to catch the edges of the desk as his moves became more powerful and the table crashed around.

Sharp bites jumped across her chest followed by his hands circling over her dress, running over the curves of her breasts, the hot skin of her chest, and across her biceps. Her hips started to gyrate as he pumped in and out of her -quicker-, every roll of his body sending sparks of tension to pull at her muscles and a surge of heat to spread across her flesh. The overwhelming build pulled at her abdomen and she moaned as he tilted his body down and slid his midriff over her clit and back again. Again he made the move and her head rolled back onto the desk, her eyes squeezing shut, as her body shook.

Her voice cracked as the exclamation left her throat and the build could rise no more. The pleasure overtook her in a sudden burst and her fingers scratched at the wood beneath, scratches left under the lip for no one to see. Her legs curled up around his waist and her body tensed around him, clutching him in its tight embrace until the pressure was too much for him. He exhaled with his release and pulled her hips over him one final time as he came to his completion.

She felt her body fall apart as he stepped back and left her empty. She crawled back up to a sitting position and breathed as he slipped his pants back up to his waist. As he bent to get his belt, she pushed her dress back down and turned to look for the thong she had worn that day.

Searching would take some time as papers had flown everywhere, the mess cover every inch of her desk, a trail leading up and around the the filing cabinet -that had moved out of place- and the side table with the radio still blaring. She ran a hand through the shambles that was her hair, finding a paperclip stuck in the back and picked it out while starting to laugh. She wasn't really sure why she was laughing she just started to chuckle and then laugh and laugh and laugh.

"What's so funny?" He asked, trying to hide his self-consciousness.

She gestured around as she continued to laugh, "I don't know where Mr. Johnson went."

He smiled at her ridiculousness and started to laugh with her, looking around at the mess she was pointing out. "Yeah, have fun cleaning that up. You'll be here a while."

"You're helping."

"No I'm fucking not."

She threw her hands on her hips and glared up at him with her most intense eyes –at least she hoped so. She was still pretty out of it with the orgasmic buzz running through her system and her smile kept breaking through. "Uh- yeah you are."

"Fine." He relented to the evil eyes. "But you owe me." He went to the filing cabinet and pushed it back into place, lifting her missing thong from the top and bringing it to her. "One date-" He kept the undergarment out of reach as she tried to grab it, smirking at the flush that spread over her face as he stepped closer. "Proper date and all that. I'll even walk you to the bloody door. I'm not as bad a man you think I am."

"I suppose I can do that."

"Good." He smiled and let her take her thong back, though she didn't get a chance to put it back on. "Let's go." He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her in the direction of the door.

"Hey, no." She slipped her hand out of his and pointed out the mess again. "I'll get fired if I don't finish this. You said you'd help. Then we can get burgers."

"Burgers and an onion blossom."

"What the hell is that?"

"Something you'll be buying."

"Hey-"

He scooped her up into his arms, her toes stubbing his shoes as he lifted her body against him so he could land a long kiss over her lips. To which she did return. "Then we'll get dessert. Alright, love?"

"Alright." She agreed as she tipped up for another kiss, smiling against his lips as she bumped into the side of her desk. "I'll never be able to view this desk the same way ever again."

"Want to never view Mr. Snyder's desk the same way ever again?"

"Yes. Yes I do."