But, as that skilled tongue lapped at her throbbing clit, all she could think about was that it felt damn good. Her stomach clenched and a gentle orgasm swamped her, sending shudders through her waking body.

Sensing she was awake, Spike lifted his head and moved up her body, peppering her flushed skin with kisses until he reached her mouth. "Good morning, luv," he murmured before catching her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

"'Morning," she mumbled when he finally pulled back and let her breathe. She flushed, then squirmed, then felt the soreness between her legs and squirmed some more, then turned beet red. He watched it all in total fascination.

"You slept for about two hours. Ready for more?" he asked, grinning at her embarrassment.

"...Shower," she managed to get out groggily. Along with her soreness and embarrassment, she felt incredibly sticky. She managed to make her fuzzy brain remember each individual sexual event of the previous night and morning and... "Four times?"

"Hm?" He looked up from lingering over her heaving breasts, and grinned again. "Well, we had actual sex, you know, my dick in your quim, four times. I really think you came quite a few more times than that. Me too, since you blew me once."

"Ack." Shoving blindly at him, she flung herself from the bed and stumbled on unsteady legs out of her room and into the bathroom. Spike listened to the door slam, then the water come on, and grinned inanely. Flopping onto his back, he rested his head on one palm while he ran the other up and down his stiffening cock, all while whistling merrily.

Buffy stood under the shower head, groaning and whimpering as the hot water beat against her sore muscles. She felt like she'd spent hours on her back being pounded into...

Oh...she had...

Groaning louder, she pressed her hands against the shower wall and squeezed her eyes shut. Images of the previous night, previous hours flashed behind her closed eyes, making her whimper and squirm.

"Damn it," she muttered, grabbing a loofah and her vanilla scented body wash. She scrubbed herself harshly as more images danced before her eyes. She saw how swiftly he'd broken down her initial resistance, how after that brief struggle with herself, she'd surrendered again and again, finally taking the initiative, much to his obvious delight, as she'd slid her mouth...

"ARGGGGGH!"

She scrubbed harder between her legs, the scent of vanilla finally erasing the heady scent of sex and cigarette smoke and maleness.

But, as she scrubbed, she touched flesh still incredibly sensitive from a long night of wild sex, and arousal blossomed inside her. Dropping the sponge, Buffy slumped against the side wall, eyes closed, breasts heaving. "I don't believe this."

A blast of cool air hit her for a moment as the shower curtain was pulled aside, then she was blanketed by a cool body pressing her into the tiled wall.

"Believe what, luv?"

Buffy's eyes flew open and she whimpered at the lust in his hot stare. His cock was hard and pressed against her stomach, sending bolts of pleasure through her, and she felt herself flushing again.

"How come I keep wanting you?" she muttered, her voice pleading, as her hands gripped his shoulders.

Spike cupped her bottom and lifted her off the shower floor, guiding her legs around his waist. "Don't know, don't care," he grunted as he slammed his cock inside her. "Damn, girl, how do you stay so tight?" he asked, his teeth clenched as her vaginal muscles clamped around his cock, squeezing and releasing on each deep thrust.

"Ooooh, fuck," she moaned, her head rolling on the shower wall as the water beat over them and their bodies pounded together. Her shoulders and upper back grew sore from the hard tile, her pussy was already sore from too much sex, but still she clung to him, moving with him, driving both of them. Gasping and mewling, she smashed her lips to his as her orgasm overwhelmed her. She cried her pleasure into his mouth, her hips pumping mindlessly.

Spike flung his head back and howled to the ceiling as he came, then slammed her one more time against the wall before they slid to their knees. Their bodies reluctantly separated and they embraced, both panting for air.

Finally, Spike rose and turned off the shower, then pulled her limp body out with him. Wrapping her in a towel and grabbing one for himself, he lifted her into his trembling arms and staggered into her room. Dumping her on the bed, he managed to swipe the towel down his dripping body, then collapsed next to her.

Buffy lay sprawled on her back, the towel slipping to her waist, her whole body shuddering in the aftermath of the most powerful orgasm yet. She was wet and even more sore, but didn't have the energy to move. She felt Spike sprawl next to her, his face burrowing into her breasts, one leg sliding between her lax knees, and she sighed in pleasure, then let her eyes close.

Too exhausted to think or worry or care, they drifted to sleep.

"BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS."

Buffy came awake instantly, sitting up and dislodging the heavy object on her chest. Her wide eyes focused on the doorway...

...on her mother in the doorway.

"Mom?"

"Shit," came the muttered comment from beside her and all of her memories slammed into her head at once. Going beet red, she jerked the blanket over them, holding it to her chin, as she tried to come up with some rational excuse.

While watching her mother's face grow harder and colder by the millisecond.

"Get dressed, both of you, now," came the clipped order, before Joyce turned and left the room.

Buffy scrambled from the bed, ignoring the aches and pains in her languid body, and grabbed clothes from her dresser. Panic filled her, and horror, and shock, and...

"What's your mum doing home?"

Turning wild eyes on him, Buffy picked up his pants and flung them at his head. "She's going to kill us both, you idiot! Get dressed."

Sighing, Spike rose and pulled on his leather pants, then reached for his t-shirt, as Buffy jerked a brush through her damp, tangled hair. Wearing a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt, in an attempt to look as non-sexual as possible, Buffy left the room. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the stairs, not ready to face her mother, but knowing that any delay would only make it worse. She heard Spike tromping behind her, and felt herself flushing.

She couldn't believe this was happening!

Joyce sat on the edge of the couch, back perfectly straight, hands clasped in her lap. Her expression was one of silent fury.

Buffy felt like either melting into the floor or running away, but, instead, she walked into the living room and sat down in an easy chair across from her mother. She nervously ran her sweaty palms over her knees and nibbled at her lower lip.

Spike stopped behind the chair, resting one hand lightly on the back, trying to look casual. It wasn't that he felt particularly embarrassed or horrified at getting caught, but something deep inside--the part of him that truly liked Joyce--knew that he'd betrayed her trust.

"William, I wish to speak to Buffy alone first. Please go make a pot of coffee."

With a deep sense of foreboding, Spike headed for the kitchen. She *never* called him William.

They were in deep, deep shit.

In the living room, Buffy finally managed to look at her mother, and whisper, "I can explain."

"Oh, I'm sure you can, but I'm not sure I want to hear your explanations." Buffy reddened more, but Joyce continued. "I know you are sexually active. I don't like thinking about it, but I had it graphically pointed out to me over a year ago. You're eighteen, technically an adult, but..." Joyce sighed heavily and shook her head. "I'm very disappointed in you."

That comment brought Buffy's eyes up again, and she swallowed hard. "Why?"

"Why? Why? I find you in bed, naked with a man I don't even know you're dating, in my own house, on a school day, when I'm not here, and you were naked..." Joyce gave her daughter an exasperated look. "I trusted you. I left you alone with the belief that you would go to school and stay out of trouble--as much as that's possible--that you wouldn't have wild parties or wild..." She swallowed visibly, "...sex."

Buffy stopped rubbing her hands over her knees, instead gripping her fingers into her legs, as she stared at the floor, not knowing what to say.

"Well?"

"I didn't plan it," Buffy finally whispered.

"Plan what? Plan that I'd find out? That I'd find you in bed with Spike? No, I can see that as I was supposed to be out of town until the weekend, but all flights into Vancouver were cancelled due to fog and I got as far as San Francisco before I found out that my contact was stuck in Montreal. So, I came home expecting to find you in school."

"Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't invite him in. I..." Buffy looked up suddenly. "I de-invited him, in fact. He never did tell me how he got in here."

"Why would you revoke the invitation if you're dating?"

"We're not dating," Buffy blurted out, then reddened even more as she realized how bad that sounded.

Joyce pursed her lips and tucked that bit of information into a corner of her mind. "I thought that Spike was my friend, so naturally I invited him in last week when he came by with some artifacts for the gallery."

"Mom, you can't just go inviting vampires into the house."

"Oh, no, don't you dare turn any of this around on me, and for all I knew, he still had an invitation, so I was just being polite by asking. Now, what was that about you not dating him? In fact, the last thing I knew you weren't dating anyone, nor were you wanting to date. I thought you were still seeing Angel on some level."

Buffy's eyes dropped again and her shoulders slumped. "I am."

"So, you're seeing two men, and, they're not men. Buffy..." Joyce sighed heavily. "I like Spike, but even I know he's a demon wearing the guise of a man. Being involved with Angel is one thing, at least he has a soul, but Spike?"

"I didn't plan it," Buffy yelled, frustrated by all the questions and the heavy disapproval and disappointment she felt from her mother.

Joyce took a few deep breaths to calm down and try to think logically. "When did this begin? Was last night the first time?"

Slowly Buffy shook her head. "Mom, do we really need to discuss this?"

"Yes, I think we do. As long as you live under my roof, I want to know what's going on in your life. You know, even *after* you're no longer living here, I'm going to want to know who you're dating, when you fall in love, all those kind of things. It's what a good mother does. And, most good mothers only have to worry about their daughters dating normal guys. So, I want to know when this began, what it means, what you feel for each other, why you thought it was perfectly okay to have sex in my house while I was gone."

As she finished her diatribe, Spike walked into the room carrying a tray with the coffee pot and mugs. He set it down on the coffee table, then stood back, slipping his hands into his jeans' pockets. "None of this is Buffy's fault, Joyce."

Joyce rounded on him, rising to her feet to glare at him from across the low table. "She's eighteen years old. She can take some of the responsibility, but you..." As she spoke, she jabbed one finger towards him. "You abused my trust as much as she did, maybe more so, since you're way past being an adult."

He took a deep, unnecessary breath and nodded. "Yeah, you're right, and I'm sorry for that. I don't have many human friends--Hell, it's practically unheard of in the vampire community to have *any*--but I do value your friendship, Joyce."

Joyce eyed him for a moment, then gestured for him to take a seat as she did so herself. Picking up the coffee pot, she poured herself a cup while saying, "So, you wish to date my daughter."

Half seated in a rocking chair at the end of the coffee table, Spike gave her a startled, trapped look.

Joyce smirked slightly, then swung her attention to Buffy. "And, why are you looking so amused, young lady?"

Immediately Buffy wiped the small grin off her face that Spike's obvious discomfort had induced.

"Buffy doesn't seem to think you're dating." Joyce's attention went back to Spike who was now seated, but eyeing her warily. "In my day, two people as deeply involved as you two obviously are would be considered dating...if not much more."

"Come on, mom, I've seen the 70's Show. All that swinging and drug induced sex..."

"Slayer, shut up," Spike hissed.

"Spike's right." Joyce frowned at her daughter. "I'm not taking this lightly, Buffy, even if you are."

"I'm not," Buffy protested. "But, I'm not dating Spike, either. I love Angel. We just can't be together." She avoided looking at Spike, not wanting to see his reaction.

"So, you're using Spike as a physical substitute? You can't have Angel so you're sleeping with the man closer to him than anyone else?"

Buffy's eyes dropped beneath her mother's probing gaze, and she whispered, "You make it sound so sordid."

"It *is* sordid. I raised you better than that," Joyce snapped, slamming her coffee cup down on the table and making the couple jump.

Spike's cold voice broke the tense silence. "I seduced your daughter, Joyce. I didn't plan on it, but we found ourselves trapped together and I took advantage of her. I've wanted her for a long time, probably since the first time I saw her, and what I want, I eventually get. And, maybe I wanted her even more because she belongs to my sire, and I've *always* wanted what was his. So, don't blame Buffy that I used two hundred years of sexual experience to seduce her and keep seducing her."

He rose to his feet, his eyes meeting the startled blue orbs of Buffy's mother. "It's not about love, Joyce, or even caring, it's about fucking. I'm a soulless demon. There are three things I truly love: blood, sex and Drusilla, quite possibly in that order. And there is one thing that I truly hate: the fact that I am forced to be submissive to my sire. To fuck his one true love when he can't? Well, that's about the best thing in the world."

Turning, he stalked silently out of the room and up the stairs.

Buffy watched him go with tears sparkling in her eyes. His words had hurt her, hurt her much more than she would have thought possible, and she was trying desperately not to cry.

"Buffy, he didn't mean what he said," Joyce began, her voice gentle.

"Yes he did." Her voice strangled with emotion, Buffy looked up at her mother. "I'm sorry, mom, so very sorry, but he's right. It's just sex, empty and meaningless and..." Tears spilled from her eyes. "I never meant for it to happen, and, after each time I swore it wouldn't happen again, but he'd touch me and...I love Angel, I really, truly love him, and when he finds out, he'll hate me as much as I hate myself." Sobbing now, she jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs.

So caught up in her misery, Buffy momentarily forgot that Spike had preceded her up the stairs. He was sitting on the end of the bed tying the laces on his boots.

"Get out," she cried, her voice strangled by broken sobs.

"I'm leaving," he replied coldly, grabbing up his duster. Brushing past her, he stomped back down the stairs. Buffy followed on his heels, stopping him at the door.

"You're willing to burn up just to get out of here?" she hissed.

Spike turned and glared down at her. "You just told me to get out."

She gave him a helpless, angry look. "I *do* want you to get out, you pig. How could you tell my mother all that?" Angry now, she swiped at the tears drying on her cheeks.

"How could you use me as a substitute for the poof?" he snapped back, shooting her a bitter look.

Startled, Buffy took a step back and answered, confused. "But...I mean, you're not...not really. But, I never stopped loving him and we...us...me and you...it's not real or anything. Right?"

"Right," he bit back. "Just fucking, like I told your mum."

Buffy reddened and dropped her eyes. "Um, yeah..." Feeling his penetrating eyes on her, she finally looked up. "That's all it is...right?"

Spike just looked at her, then looked past her to Joyce who stood in the doorway to the living room, arms over her chest, one eyebrow arched with interest. "Mind if I spend the day in your basement, Joyce?"

"I'm not pissed off enough to want you dead," she said as consent.

"Mom," Buffy hissed in embarrassment at her mother's cursing.

Nodding his thanks, Spike swept past Buffy and headed for the basement door. As is slammed behind him, Buffy sagged against the front door, the tears returning.

Joyce watched her daughter for a long moment, noting the emotions playing across Buffy's face and her reactions to Spike words and attitude. "Are you crying for Angel? Or because of what Spike said? Or because you got caught."

"...All of them?" Buffy sobbed.

Joyce held out her arms and her daughter tumbled into them.

The End

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