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Bring It On Home

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He woke up with a mouthful of golden hair. 

He couldn't help it: a huge smile broke on his face and he inhaled deeply the scent of her shampoo. It was some kind of flowery thing and he couldn't get enough of it. 

He tried to move his head back a bit, enough to get rid of Buffy’s hair in his mouth without moving his left hand, nestled between her stomach and the mattress; he didn't really manage but couldn't bring himself to care. He nuzzled her head a bit more instead, his body snuggling even closer against hers. She was closely encased in his arms, her back moving against his chest in time with her breaths, and their legs were entwined together. Her body had thoroughly warmed his front, so much so that he couldn't feel much of a difference between their skin temperatures wherever they touched. 

He took another deep breath. Shampoo, and sex — their sex — and quite a bit of stale air, and sweat… he couldn't think of a sweeter combination. He could feel himself half-hard already against her butt cheeks, getting harder with every second that he spent concentrating on that sweet feeling. She murmured lightly in her sleep, her head nuzzling a bit in his arm beneath it, and something in his chest swelled. 

He'd never really had this and he was sure he'd never have enough of it. Twice, during their Sunnydale shit-show of a 'relationship', she'd fallen asleep next to him after a particularly energetic set of rounds; both times he'd dared hold her in her sleep, breathe her in just like he was doing now. He'd cherished those moments as precious gems, as fresh water to a parched man; and both times when she'd woken up she'd violently flung him from her, swearing and rushing out of his crypt twice as fast as usual. That was, without counting the shit-show that was their last time together, when Captain Cardboard had found them. The thought that this time she'd wake up and just turn in his arms, kiss him, tell him good morning… he nuzzled against her hair again, trying to suppress the urge to hold her much more tightly, to roll her on her back and wake her up with a kiss. 

I love you so much, Buffy.

He thought it and then murmured it, low, feeling his heart swell even more with each syllable. 

He forced his body to hold her without any force in it, snuggled closer but not enough to wake her. God knew his woman needed all the rest in the world, especially they’d barely had a few hours of sleep after such a delicious, long night — or better yet, morning. 

He inhaled deeply again, the lingering scent of sex and his memories making him harder against her soft bottom, and then she moved a bit. The light friction of her skin against his made him almost whimper but he settled to wait, his thumb tracing light patterns on her stomach. 

I love you, I love you.

Some part of him still couldn’t believe she’d told him she wasn't ready yet, and could he wait… he repressed a scoff and couldn't help but hold her a bit tighter, loving every centimetre of warm, warm contact between them. As if he'd ever stop waiting for her, sod the fish's words and all his stupid plans of bloody moving on. As if even just the fact that she wanted to give them a chance — a serious, honest, real chance — didn't make him the happiest bloke in the world. The fear of their old bad patterns still swirled somewhere in the background of his brain, but now he had much more entertaining images to focus on.

So he imagined her saying those four magic words instead — I love you too — and yeah, he could be even happier than this. He imagined her waking him up with a kiss, telling him 'morning, my love'. And then imaginary-Buffy woke him up with a kiss and an 'afternoon, my love'. And then she woke him up with different kisses, someplace else than his lips… 

His body trembled against her naked one in his effort not to thrust against her ass. He wanted to move so that his cock could be between her delicious cheeks, and wouldn't that be lovely to wake up to anyway? 

He sighed deeply, moving his hips slightly back and whispering the lightest kisses he could manage on her hair-covered neck and then shoulder. Waiting for her to wake up was becoming harder — har, har — every second. Besides, she couldn't really mind if he was sweet about it, could she? 

He started moving his hand against her soft stomach and kept on with his kisses along her neck, nuzzling behind her ear. She sighed softly, moving against him with a murmur, and he got even harder and even gentler with his caresses. 

It took a few more minutes of sweet, sweet humming against his arm but she finally started stretching. He let his hold on her loosen up for a couple of seconds and then snuggled close again, nuzzling her hair-covered ear. 

"Mmhh… morning…" Her voice was low and hoarse from sleep and he stifled a groan as well as a thrust. 

"Morning, my sunshine," he answered, his voice low and hoarse as well. She shivered slightly and he felt like the king of the world. 

She moved her butt back against him and he ground his forehead against the back of her head in an effort not to whimper. 

"You been up for long?" He could hear her smirk, her voice still hoarse and low and sexier than he could believe possible. He held her torso tight to his and ground back in her ass, his cock finally nestling between her cheeks. She let out a soft gasp that made his mind reel. 

"Just a bit, kitten." 

He started again with his kisses on her neck and was stopped from moving her hair away by her hand going to hold his left for a second before she laced their fingers together. He let out a deep sigh and, after hesitating for a second, let the words out of his lips in a soft whisper. 

“I love you.”

He dared to move back just enough to look at her and was rewarded with her sweet, close-eyed smile, her cheeks reddening while she snuggled his left hand and arm to her chest. He almost felt like a paler, whiter version of the Grinch, the way his dead heart insisted on feeling like expanding in his chest. She’d said she liked hearing the words and hadn’t been lying, as he’d come to appreciate during their lovemaking.

They kept on nuzzling each other for a couple more delicious minutes until she finally moved enough to look at him. Her eyes were soft and sleepy, satisfaction and happiness pouring out from her lowered lids, and some part of him still couldn’t believe his luck when she smiled at him. Her smile grew to be brilliant and he couldn’t help kissing her soft, soft lips in a long, tender kiss. She sighed against his mouth, moving so that she was on her back, their bodies still touching and her free hand going to caress his cheek while his right cradled her head, fingers threading through her long hair.

A small part of him wasn't sure this was really happening, but he wasn’t going to question it out loud.

Their kiss finished with them both sighing in each other and he smiled down at her with what might have been a sappy smile. Not that there was a bone in him caring about looking sappy, right then.

“Good morning,” she repeated with yet another sunny smile, and he attacked her lips again and again while she chuckled lightly against him, their still-joined hands coming up close to her head on the mattress. “Spike,” she started, but he nibbled on her lower lip and traced it with his tongue until she shuddered lightly. “Spike, I should —” he interrupted her by slipping his tongue in her mouth, and he could feel her smile against his lips but she didn’t protest, kissing him back and moving her hand to thread through his tousled hair. He kept on kissing her and kissing her, his body moving lightly against her, his hard cock relishing every contact with her leg, her lower stomach, her hip. Finally, she gripped his hair a tad less softly and moved his head back, both of them panting lightly. “I should go brush my teeth,” she said, breathless and with less-than-calm eyes. He gave a slightly stronger thrust against her lower body.

“Pet, if you think I’m letting you out of this bed,” he murmured in his lowest voice, leaving a trail of kisses from her jaw to behind her ear, “you’re off your bird.” He nibbled her soft skin there while tightening his grasp on her hair until her breath hitched. The sound went straight to his cock and he thrust once more against her.


He took her ear lobe in a soft nibble and then gently sucked it in his mouth until she gasped. 

"S-spike," she stammered while he left open-mouthed kisses on her neck. Then she gripped his hair again and moved him back once more, looking flushed and like a sodding banquet out of heaven itself. "Look, I need to pee." 

He managed to glare at her for only a couple of seconds before they both broke out into stupid, light-headed chuckles, then he gave her one last hard kiss before moving off her and shoving her to the edge of the bed. 


"Off you go then, pet, c'mon." 

"Wait a —" 

"Nope, no seconds to spare." He pushed her again until she was forced to get off the bed and stand and then she was looking at him with a flushed, almost furious expression. He felt himself getting even harder. "The sooner you go, the sooner you come back… the sooner I can shag you silly." He curled his tongue behind his teeth, letting his hand rest right next to his hard cock, a flame of pleasure passing through him as she followed the motion until she was staring between his legs. 

"Don't start without me, vamp," she said, her tone now imperious, and he inched his hand closer to himself. Her eyes flared, going to his cock again, her flush spreading from her face and ears to her chest. 

"Or what?" 

"Or," she started, squaring her shoulders and forcing his eyes to her luscious, reddening tits, "I'll make you pay for it." 

Christ, even hours with her didn't make this any less incredible. Buffy Summers was flirting with him, all naked and commanding and at ease, and he could die a happy vamp. 

His thumb and forefinger lightly circled the base of his cock and he smirked at her. 

"Not seeing the problem there, pet." 

"Oh, you'll see the problem all right…" 

She smirked too, looking him up and down, and with a flick of her bed-tousled hair she strode to her in-room toilet, all traces of sleepiness gone. 

He shut his eyes and tugged himself hard twice, some part of him still in awe that this was happening. 

A few minutes later she came in to find him with her pillow on his face and one of his hands lazily circling his hard cock; he could feel her gaze on him and he tugged himself once quickly, the tip leaking on his fingers. 

"You haven't been very obedient." Her voice was strict and he couldn't help a whimper. He moved the pillow off his face when he felt her weight shift the bed, finding himself with a freshened, naked slayer crawling up his legs. He could smell that she'd brushed her teeth and see that she'd brushed her hair, but his eyes were drawn to her rosy nipples, her tits swaying over his legs, and he gave another whimper. "However will I punish you, vampire?" 

He bit down yet another whimper. This was getting ridiculous. On the other hand, how else was he expected to react? 

"In whatever way pleases you… mistress." 

She stopped with her face right above his dick and he could see an all-new flush spreading up her face. Bingo.

She just looked at him for a second more until she moved her face down, her lips a breath away from his leaking tip. She sighed and he twitched, swallowing down another helpless sound. 

"Well then," she murmured, looking at him with hooded eyes. "Arms above your head." 

His whole body shuddered and he didn't waste a second to comply, clenching his fists in the pillow, above his head. 

"Yes, mistress." 

She took a breath at that, the smell of her renewed arousal hitting his nose hard. Then she smiled triumphantly at him and flicked her tongue over his tip. He shuddered and had to force himself not to thrust up.

"Mmhh…" She gave him this imperious look then moved a finger to gather some of his precum, her touch light and gentle and Christ, he needed more. His eyes threatened to cross when she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked it deeply, still so close that every warm breath hit his cock in a gentle, cruel breeze. "Good boy." 

Then she crawled up to his face, her body tantalisingly close to his but never touching him, until she stretched above him: legs splayed on his sides, hands on either side of his head, her face close to his and her breath hot and quick against his lips. He could feel himself close to panting too, his whole body tensed up, every nerve ending fizzling.

She slowly licked her lips and then yeah, he panted a bit because it was all too much.

“You want something, my disobedient vamp?”

Yours, yours, love you, take me, please.

“A-anything you want, mistress.” Yeah, he was a panting, trembling mess, but God if the effect of that word didn’t make her breathe hard as well.

“And what if I want to take my pleasure and give you nothing?”

Her voice was low and hoarse and she lowered her hips to hover right above his twitching cock, posing it at her entrance, and he was lost.

“Please,” he whimpered, and her eyes flashed.

She went down in a swift stroke, taking all of him, and he groaned at the sweet grip of her. She panted against his mouth, setting a fierce rhythm, her tight walls wet and God, so hot, and soon they were kissing each other, all tongues and teeth and harsh breaths in between, until she shifted above him to grasp his hair with both hands, fingernails scraping against his scalp just a tad too hard, making him twitch inside her. She changed her rhythm, making her thrusts harder and grinding down at each one, and he moaned in her mouth, his arms tensed in the effort not to move to her.

“Let me... touch you,” he pleaded, his lips never leaving hers.

“No,” she commanded, and he thrust up even harder, impossibly aroused and feeling like he was going to come at any second. She tilted his head back, her eyes brilliant and lips wet. “Don’t you dare come before I let you, Spike.”

Did she want it to end too soon?

He groaned and closed his eyes, felt her sit up, heard her moan at the change of position.

“Look at me,” she ordered, her voice hoarse and commanding and unbearably hot. He groaned again and obeyed. She was grinding down on him, flushed a brilliant red, her hands on her breasts, her fingers idly flicking her own nipples. He moaned deeply and she smiled the smile of a conquering queen.

“Please,” he pleaded again, thrusting up again, but she just laughed and shook her head, her golden hair bouncing up and down slightly at her shallow movements. 

My effulgent Goldilocks, he thought drunkenly, and then he thought that he could say it out loud, he could call her that, and so he did, drunk on the power of this new, freer, and happier version of his lover. Her eyes flared at his words and she murmured yes , and he continued: he called her his sweet queen, his hot, hot conqueror, his ruthless empress, his mistress , and she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, grinding harder at each thrust, squeezing him harder until he could only just not cross his eyes. But he wouldn’t, because he couldn’t miss this, miss her grind into him harder and harder until with a long, low moan she came, one hand on her breast and one in her hair. He called her his warrior goddess, while she squeezed him so hard that he had to put all his strength in not coming along with her. Slowly, she came back to herself, her breaths heavy and eyes lidded, and then she squeezed him one more time, making him groan again.

“Very, very… good.” He repressed the urge to gloat and just drank her in, the smell of her a heady thing and the sight of her just spent like a gift from the gods. “You deserve a treat…” she flashed him a brilliant smile, her hands going to lay on his stomach. “You can move.”

In a flash, he flipped them over and entered her again, eating her gasp in a heady, deep kiss, his hands going to cup her breasts and his hips flush to hers.

“Any treat I want, my sweet mistress?”

“God, Spike,” she moaned against his mouth, going to grip his head and one of his ass cheeks hard. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, and then he spent several minutes kissing her, deeply and languidly, just because he could. When she moved away to breathe he went to kiss her neck, her breastbone, then slid down to her sternum and then he finally reached one of her rosy nipples. They both groaned when he flicked it with his tongue as he kept thrusting into her, slowly and deeply. He spent long minutes lavishing with attention both her breasts, keeping his thrusts slow and grinding down on her every time, until her grip on his hair was painful and her breath came only in shallow gasps. Then he looked up at her, his hands moving down to her buttocks and kneading them, relishing her strained expression. With one last suck, he slipped out of her and slid lower, one of his hands going to play with her folds and yes, there she was, his queen: wet, and hot, and ready, and he bent down and started his feast.

She moaned again when his tongue first touched her lips and he drank her in, her sounds and smells and God the glorious taste of her, and he felt like he’d never want to stop. He kissed and licked and sucked every centimetre of her, until she squirmed under him, thrusting herself up to him, pushing his face down. He’d never been happier not to have to breathe.

“Please, Spike,” came her moan, and like a good slave, he relented and captured her clit in his lips in a gentle suckle. Her whole body trembled and she cried a little as a sudden orgasm rushed through her, Spike finding it impossible not to thrust against the mattress. He nursed her back to him with gentle licks and grasped two handfuls of her gorgeous ass cheeks, keeping her still beneath him. He started again slowly, with only the gentlest licks and flicks; and the faster he went, the more she squirmed in his arms, hands twisting in his hair, hips trying their best to thrust up. He was a goner. He went on, unrelenting, until she came again, and again, each time moaning more loudly than the last, until she didn’t have the strength to push up against him anymore, spent beneath him, her fingers still tight in his hair but only twitching.

He looked up at her and licked his lips while she heaved huge gulps of air, eyes wild and pointed at the ceiling, lost to the world.

“Thank you for the treat, mistress.”

She chuckled at that and her hands got softer in his hair while she pulled him up, and then he was on her, his body pressing on hers while her legs slowly came up to circle his lower back.

“Enough of that,” she murmured, one of her hands sliding down to his cheek, “Buffy, just Buffy now.”

“Buffy,” he breathed, looking at her like she was his own paradise. She looked back at him, eyes hooded but open and accepting, and then she moved her hand to take him and bring him inside her. She took a breath when he entered her and then smiled at him, happy. He could burst at any moment, he knew it. “Buffy. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…”

“Spike,” she said in his same tone, touching her lips to his. “Spike, Spike…”

She met each of his thrusts, their lips touching in murmurs of their names and in heated kisses. He’d never had any of this before last night; never had her look at him like that, with open eyes and an open heart, gently but passionately thrusting up into him, with one hand on his cheek and the other roaming his chest, his ass, his back in strong strokes; never had her murmur his name between kisses in that soft, sweet voice, hitching when he started touching her between them just so; never had her smile at his pleasure, at his love for her.

“God, I love you,” he couldn’t help but murmur, burying his face in her neck.

“Oh God, Spike,” she moaned hard, coming around him with a shiver.

And that was it. Just a few more thrusts in her squeezing, tight channel and he was gone, coming into her, while her legs and arms held him tighter, her moans mingling with his own.

They came down from it slowly, heaving deep breaths, and she moved his head back up to kiss him thoroughly. By the time she got up for air, he felt spent and happy and whole. The taste of her was sweeter than the best French wine and he was drunk drunk drunk on her.


“Spike,” she murmured, looking up at him with shining eyes. He moved one hand underneath her shoulders, the other threading through her hair. He couldn’t stop looking at her beautiful, radiant face. “God, we should have gotten together sooner.”

He chuckled at that and she smiled even more, and then they were kissing again. They kept on kissing and murmuring each other’s names until he was hard again, still inside her, and they started over.

He would never get enough of her.




Eventually, they did manage to get out of bed and shower. By that time, the air in Buffy’s room was so heavy with sex it was getting a bit too much even for her. The shower itself was an interesting experience, what with it not being exactly built for two — but they were creative, and athletic, and insatiably horny, so they made do.

In the end though they managed to venture out for air. That was when they discovered that it was well past lunchtime and that Willow had left food for Buffy and blood for Spike in his room. Buffy blushed a bit at reading her card (“Try not to stay longer than 3 pm, or we’ll have to pay for another night!”), and then he reasoned that they were already late (“Too late, luv, it’s 2:55”), so what was there to do but do it in his bed? She chided him, actually trying to rush to gather his things together.

Of course, they did do it in his bed. After all the intensity and softness of that morning it was fast and hard, and Spike never wanted to leave that room again.

But after eating the food Willow had left them and yet more heavy make-out sessions (“C’mon, pet, we’ll have to pay anyway!”), they finally emerged in the lobby, luggage in hand and ready to go, wondering whether the rest of the slayers had already left or had waited for them. They were ready to pay and leave when Red turned up from the other side of the lobby and called to them.

“Guys, wait!”

Spike felt the fierce need to hold Buffy’s hand again, just because he could and not at all to prove to himself and everyone else that he could. He pushed it back, trying his best not to act as a lovesick teenager.

“Hey, Wills. Thanks for the food!”

Was she blushing? Yes, a bit. But it was a good blush, an 'I’ve just been thoroughly fucked by my stallion boyfriend' blush, not an 'I don’t want to mention my secret stallion lover' blush. Right?

“You’re welcome, Buff. Thought you guys might need some sustenance.”

Red was grinning widely at them both and he felt some of that ridiculous tension go. The best friend clearly approved, so what was his stupid worrying for?

“Yeah, thanks, Red.”

“Don’t mention it. Actually, I talked with HQ this morning and we have a present for you, Buffy.” His lady perked right up at that and he couldn’t help a sappy smile at her while she took the bag Willow was handing her. “You’re always doing everything you can at the castle, so we thought you could do with some slack time. Proper pleasant break from work.” She winked at him and beamed while Buffy opened the bag to reveal clothes in it. “So I magicked some of you guys' clothes here, and we paid for your room for tonight and the next two nights, so you can have some more time to enjoy the city together. What do you guys say?”

She was almost doing a little on-the-spot dance, smiling at them both brightly, and Spike couldn’t be more speechless.

“Wills… you didn’t need to…”

“No need, just pleasure. For you guys. I-I mean, the carnival is going so well, and if anything happens you'd still be close anyway, and we just wanted to give you a little gift, and… you guys would like to spend more time together, yeah?”

“Yes! Absolutely,” came Buffy’s eager answer before he could even open his mouth. She looked at him with a happy grin and he felt like bursting.

“Really appreciate it, Red,” he murmured, trying and failing for a casual tone.

“Well, off you go then. Go enjoy Buffy's room some more or go outside, sunset was a little while back and the sky is - surprise! - overcast anyway.” She beamed at them again, squeezing both their shoulders, and then left in a flutter of skirt fabrics.

They were left staring after her until they turned to each other, both smiling more and more widely by the second.

“Your best friend is the best friend ever, Summers.”

“Totally. I might need to find some kind of gift for her.”

“I’ll help you. But now…”

They decided to enjoy Buffy’s room some more, then. Most of the heavy sex air had gone by that time — and anyway, they were distracted enough not to care.




A few hours later they were still in her room, naked and sitting on the bed. At least Spike was sitting, his back against the headboard; Buffy was curled on his lap, her hand stroking his stomach and waist ceaselessly. 

They'd made love so many times Spike had lost count. And what counted as one, anyway? Was it when he finally came into her? Not bloody likely. Was it when she came? That would probably be literally uncountable. Maybe it was when they both collapsed and had to take a breather before starting again… 

"Whatcha thinking?" 

Her voice was soft, tinged with something he didn't immediately catch, and he held her a bit tighter in his arms. 

"'bout how to count how many times we had sex." She was silent for a beat. Then she moved her head to look up at him, eyes incredulous. He shrugged and grinned widely at her. "You asked, pet." 

She shook her head a bit then leaned it back down so that he could only see the top of her head. Her hand closed, still on the skin of his stomach. 


Oh, that's what was in her voice: uncertainty. He stroked her arm, touching his lips to her hair. 

"Yes, pet?" 

She sighed a bit and he waited, never stopping his stroking gesture. She stayed silent for so long he was going to ask her again, but then she talked. Her voice was still unsure. 

"Spike, do you think…" 

She trailed off, staying silent for one more minute. He squeezed her a bit and smiled against her head. 

"Don't read minds yet, love. D'you want me to go get Red and ask her to teach me?" 

She snorted a little laugh and squirmed closer to him, nuzzling his chest. 

"Definitely no calling of Willow, no." 

"Mmhh… I'll stay right here then, if I really have to." She scoffed and slapped him lightly and he couldn't help but squeeze her to him again. "Tell me, Buffy. What's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?" 

She sighed again, nuzzling his chest. Then she talked right into his skin, her voice slightly muffled and tickling him. 

"This morning. When we woke up, and we…" 

"Had amazing, hot sex?" He felt some of his blood flow south at the memory, even after hours of going at it, and he shifted a bit underneath her. "Yeah, seem to remember something to that effect." 

She shook her head once but kept her face right on his skin, making it raise in goosebumps when she talked again. 

"I wasn't… too much, was I?" 

He frowned at the top of her head, confused. 

"Too much what, love? You were hot as hell." 

She shifted a bit and her voice was yet more unsure. 

"I just mean… I wasn't too, uhm, bossy?" 

"I love it when you're bossy." 

"Spike, I'm serious." 

"So am I, you're bloody hard to resist when you’re bossy." He let his hands slide on her skin, going to her waist and up one of her thighs, stopping right at the crease between thigh and butt cheek. "The way you boss me around at the castle, when we train, the way you always throw me down and get the best of me…" She squirmed and he inhaled sharply, biting his lip. "Gets me hard just thinking about it," he murmured, shifting his hips so his hardening cock moved against her leg. 

"That's just it," came her breathy voice, and he could hear the pleasure in it but the uncertainty too. "Do you think that's OK?" 

"Pet —"

"I don't want to hurt you, Spike." She finally leaned back from his chest, her hands warm on his skin as her wide eyes settled on his. "I don't want us to be — abusive. Not again." 

She finished in a whisper, and a little bit of his heart broke. 

"Pet. Buffy." He slid his hands back up until he was cupping her face, his thumbs stroking her skin softly. "It's not the same. We're not the same, you know that." 

She nodded but still looked uncertain. 

"Then why… why do I still want to order you around? Why do I still want you to…" Her eyes lowered and he felt his chest constrict. 

"Hurt you?" He offered, his own voice a whisper. 

She kept her eyes down, nodding after a beat. He exhaled shakily. 

"Buffy. Buffy, look at me, please." She kept nibbling on her lip but looked up at him when he tilted her head up a bit. Her eyes were shining. "When you feel like that… what do you feel?" 

She looked away again. 

"Uhm... pleasure." 

God, the way she whispered that, like it was a sin she was confessing. 

"Buffy. Baby," he whispered, touching his lips to hers for a sweet second. "If it's pleasure you're feeling, then it's all right." 

"How can it be all right, if I want to hurt you and domina— tell you what to do? Or, or if I want you to do that to me?" 

God, he wasn't the right person for this. He just shook his head, a small smile on his lips. 

"Do you want me to suffer?" 


"Do you want you to suffer?" 

"No, Spike, that's just it, I'm not like that anymore —" 

"So, you just think it's hot if I call you mistress and obey, or if you beat the hell out of me when we train, or if I am the one playing master and tying you down and ordering you around, maybe hurting you a bit too." 

She'd started blushing at the word 'mistress' and by the end of it her cheeks were flushed and hot under his hands. 

"Yeah?" He had to chuckle and shake his head slightly at her worried voice. "Spike, I'm serious! Do you think that's healthy?" 

"Of course I do, pet." She opened her mouth to retort but he shushed her with his thumb on her beautiful lips. "Pet, you and I both have powerful, violent forces inside us. How could we not love powerful, violent games in our pleasure?" She frowned and seemed ready to retort but he kept talking. "Not to mention, regular humans of all kinds like that too. Remember about all of Anya's little comments on her and Xander's games?" 

God, she was cute when she blushed that hard. 

"Really didn't wanna think about that…" 

"Well, I think you should. Wager it's much more average than you prudish Americans give credit for, you know." She frowned again and he shrugged. "Call it as I see it, pet. This kinda game's more widespread than you'd think — in fact…" He grinned wolfishly. "Think you and I should take a trip to the closest sex store, pet." 

"What?" She spluttered, and he laughed heartily before giving her a long, hard kiss that left them both breathless. 

"C'mon, pet. Trust me. We go see one of those places and you'll realise just how common this sort of thing is." 

"Common doesn't mean healthy!" 

"Pet," he sighed, stroking her face with his hands. "I'm serious. As long as we're looking for each other's pleasure and happiness… I think we're good. OK?" 

She looked at him for a second, more relaxed but still a bit worried. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, I'm sure." He looked at her lovely lips, suddenly a bit shy. "I'm in love with you, Buffy. I don't want to hurt you… those games are just that: games. Have a good time even without them, don't we?" 

She snorted at his grin, making it grow wider. 

"Yeah, I suppose it can be OK…" she hedged, until he growled a bit and she giggled, hugging him close and kissing him soundly. 

“Just promise me you’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable with something, OK?” She said, voice breathless from the kiss. He smiled at her warmly and touched their foreheads together.

“Promise. You too, pet?”

“Promise,” she murmured, her eyes on his lips, before she slid her hands on his chest and kissed him again, making his borrowed blood boil. He laughed and pushed her from him, laughing some more at her pout.

"All right, you minx. Let's get dressed and go see the sights, yeah?" 

"I can't believe you're getting me out of bed," she muttered while he pushed them both to stand, then went to lean next to the toilet door. 

"Betting we'll have something interesting to play with when we get back, pet…" He waggled his eyebrows at her and God, that blush made her positively edible. "Pretty sure we can find something that talks to both of us." 

"Right now, the only thing that's talking is our B.O. We are in definite need of a shower, mister, before — ahh!" 

She let out a yell and then a giggle as he growled and lunged at her, hauling her up on his shoulder before dumping her in the shower. 

It was a while before they left the hotel, after all. 




They ended up having a lovely time. They spent a few hours walking around, Spike's heart seemingly ready to beat every single time Buffy took his hand after rushing to a shop window, or rummaging through her bag, or anything else that made her hand leave his. 

It was only halfway through their dinner — thank Christ the head Watcher had decided to pay him a decent wage for his slayer-training, considering he had board and lodging too — that he realised that this was a bona fide date. He kept trying to make her laugh, and she kept taking his hand between one serving and another, and God, he was too damn happy and it was all too damn good. 

And yeah, when they got back to the hotel, they did try their new toys. She’d ended up only accepting to take a vibrating cock ring and a lovely set of bindings. (He had a feeling they’d last very little and they’d have to buy new ones soon, but he hadn’t wanted to say no to anything she’d want.) Which, it turned out, was pretty convenient from an economic point of view: when you actually paid for the stuff you got, suddenly wanting something didn't automatically mean being able to afford it. But still, the way she’d looked at some of the other toys, eyes widening and cheeks blushing… well, he was looking forward to invest in this activity and try a few of them, not to mention have her try them on him, whenever he convinced her to give them a chance. 

They’d only slept very few hours that night, or better yet morning; somehow, though, they managed to stay awake a long time before finally collapsing to sleep, sated and exhausted, limbs tangled in their hotel bed. 

Spike didn’t think he’d ever been this happy in his life, and he couldn’t shake the thrilling feeling that she was right there with him.