Still, the Slayer had to patrol. Midnight finally arrived to find Buffy sitting on a bench in Overfield Cemetery, swinging her legs and scuffing her feet in the dust, as she twirled a thin stake between her fingers. She'd been patrolling for three hours and hadn't seen a thing.

As the clock on city hall bonged twelve, she bounced to her feet and headed home. Maybe, for once, she'd get a good night's sleep and wouldn't doze off in the middle of the class. Yesterday she'd awakened at the end of history with her pencil stuck to her cheek.

It hadn't been pretty.

Buffy entered her room, humming one of her favorite songs. Going over to her cd player, she turned it on and the sound of Paula Cole's voice filled the room. She opened the window and leaned out, refusing to allow herself to feel a pang of sorrow when she looked over the empty porch roof. Pulling her head back in, she danced over to her dresser and took out her favorite sleep shirt, then kicked off her shoes and headed for the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered, her wet hair braided so that it would kink overnight, Buffy returned to her room, wearing only the Winnie the Pooh sleep shirt and her tigger slippers. Yawning, she crossed to the cd player to turn it off, then stiffened.

Slowly she turned, frantically denying what she was sensing.

Spike leaned against her closet door, arms over his chest, a nasty leer on his face. "Cute t-shirt slayer. Take it the fuck off."

"Nyah...How...NO." Her brain scrambled, Buffy backed towards the opposite wall, trying to figure out what to do, how to get rid of him, where she had dumped her bag full of weapons.

"I shoved them in your closet," he answered perceptively as he watched her eyes dart nervously around the room. He moved forward a step, then another, his body language both graceful and deadly.

Buffy's heart started to pound and she hit the wall behind her. "Go away."

"Make me."

Finally, as Spike stopped a few feet in front of her, Buffy got herself under control and straightened, raising her fists. "I don't know how the Hell you got in here, but I'm throwing your ass out the window."

He ignored her, slipped his duster off and tossing it over her desk chair, his burning, angry eyes never leaving her pale face. "Eight days, Slayer. Eight miserable days since I found any peace, since I lost myself in your hot, tight cunt. I'm not waiting any longer."

The menace in his voice, his manner, his stance, sent a tremor of fear through Buffy and she swallowed convulsively. "It's wrong. This is so very wrong. We're enemies. Mortal fucking enemies!" Her voice rose hysterically. "You have to leave. We can't keep doing this."

"If I can accept that I want to fuck the Slayer's brains out, you can sodding well accept that you want to do the same to a vampire, you stupid bitch," Spike growled, his fury barely contained.

I don't," she cried, shaking her head. "I don't want you. It was all just hormones, and I can control those if you just leave me alone."

Growling, Spike shot his hand out, reaching for her wrist. Buffy punched him in the face, driving him backwards. He morphed, his eyes wild with lust. Launching himself at her, he grabbed her arms and tossed her onto the bed, following her down.

On her back, pinned beneath his heavy body, Buffy squirmed, trying to free her shoulders from his painful grasp so she could shove him off her. Making a frustrated sound, she struggled harder, clawing at his arms and trying to knee him in the groin.

Spike just pressed her down harder, his claws cutting through her thin t-shirt and into her shoulders, his hips and legs effectively stopping the movement of her lower body.

"Let me up," Buffy yelled, feeling real fear as her wild eyes focused on his demonic face.

Snarling, Spike caught her lips in a hard kiss, his fangs biting into her tender flesh. The taste of her blood drove him wild and he ground his leather encased erection against her thigh. As she felt his barely restrained cock, Buffy whimpered and tried to twist her mouth free of his. Finally he lifted his head and she gasped for air. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and Spike swiped at it with his rough tongue.

"Mine," he growled. Risking freeing one hand, he caught the front of her sleep shirt and prepared to tear it from her.

A sob broke from Buffy's mouth and huge tears spilled out of her eyes.

Spike's hand stilled, as she lay limply beneath him, her eyes wide and full of terror. "Stop that," he growled hoarsely.

Buffy just cried harder, her whole body shaking in reaction.

Slowly Spike lifted himself off her, raising to his knees straddling her hips. His demon melted away and he frowned. "I said, stop that."

Buffy tried to curl into a ball, but he still pinned her legs together. She wrapped her arms over her shaking stomach and sobbed.

"Fucking stop it!" Frustrated, Spike grabbed her shoulders and tugged her upwards, shaking her. "Stop crying! I didn't hurt you." Dropping her, he jumped to his feet and stomped around the room. "Fucking tears. You give me fucking tears! You nearly kill me and you think you can get away with it?"

Buffy curled into a ball, shaking harder, unable to stop the tears.

"Please stop crying," he begged, leaning over the bed.

One of her legs shot out and her heel caught him in the chin, sending him flying backwards and onto his ass. Rising to her knees, her hands balled into her fists, she glared at him through her tears. "You came here to punish me?" she screamed. "I'm the Slayer. You're a vampire. I slay vampires. I'm not supposed to kiss them and touch them and..." her voice died away and her chest heaved, trying to draw in enough breath.

Warily Spike rose to his feet, his eyes narrowed and full of anger, as he watched her, trying to anticipate her next move. "We have a good thing, Slayer. Great sex. No commitment. No violence. Why put a stop to it?"

"It's wrong," she cried plaintively.

He snorted and jerked his t-shirt over his head.

Buffy stared at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"What I came here to do." His hands began to unbuckle his belt and Buffy shook her head in denial.

"Get out!"

Boots went flying across the room as he kicked them off and returned his attention to the fastenings of his leather pants. "Your mum's out of town until Saturday. Do you know what we're going to do for the next two days, Slayer?" At the mute shaking of her head, he continued with an evil grin on his face. "We're going to fuck ourselves rotten, in every position, in every hole, until we can't see straight." He pulled his pants down and kicked them aside.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat at the sight of his lean yet muscular body, the pale flesh nearly hairless except for the dark brown curls surrounding his hard cock.

"So get that sodding shirt and those ridiculous slippers off and decide really quickly how you want it first." His hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he squeezed it rhythmically as he watched the emotions flicker over her expressive face.

"FUCK YOU!" The slippers went flying at his head and he ducked.

Oddly pleased that the tears were gone, replaced by fury, Spike put one knee on the bed. Buffy was off the other side in an instant, watching him warily. Sighing, Spike made himself comfortable, laying on his side, propped on one elbow. His other hand continued to caress his cock.

"Get off my bed," she ordered in a strangled voice.

"Nope." He sighed in pleasure, his hand moving faster.

"Don't you dare do that on my bed!"

He caught a glimpse of her red face, before she spun around, shoulders heaving with the deep panting breaths she was taking.

Buffy couldn't believe he was masturbating on her bed. Heat flooded her, focusing on her suddenly damp cleft, and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she tasted blood, and could almost feel his fangs grazing her mouth again.

"Oh Slayer..."

"Go away."

"I'm going to make a mess on this pretty spread, Slayer."

"It's washable," she shot back.

Spike's eyes glittered with amusement and lust, and he grabbed a stuffed pig from the bed stand. "Maybe I'll come over mr. piggy here."

Gasping, Buffy spun around and flung herself on the bed and grabbing for Mr. Gordo whom Spike held near his cock. The pig went flying, and suddenly Buffy was pinned beneath a heavy male body again. Frustrated that couldn't get out from under him even though she routinely fought off demons much larger, Buffy shoved at his shoulders.

Spike's nostrils flared and he grinned. "I think you're all hot and bothered, Slayer."

"Nyahh..."

"Uh huh." Shoving her legs apart, he moved between them, pressing his hard cock against her stomach. She whimpered and her eyes fell shut.

"Get off me," Buffy whispered, nearly moaning as, at the feel of his hard cool body between her quivering thighs, she felt her nipples harden and poke against the soft t-shirt.

"No." Spike lowered his mouth to her throat and began to pepper kisses across her skin. "Um, you taste like vanilla..." His tongue licked at the hollow of her collarbone, as his fingers caught the front of her shirt and pulled it down, baring more of her neck.

"Don't...please..." The wide neck stretched easily and one breast popped free. Spike caught the nipple between his teeth and nipped, making her arch off the bed and cry out. "Oh God..."

Lust swamped Buffy, but still she fought to maintain her cool. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed. He was still an immovable object. Frustrated, she punched him hard in the arm.

Grunting, Spike grappled with her for a moment, finally grabbing her hands and pinning them over her head. No longer propped above her, his weight held her down, nearly crushing her. Their eyes met, hers spitting fire, and Spike grinned wickedly. "Shall I tie you to the bed frame, luv?"

Buffy growled and bucked frantically, which only served to make her shirt ride up over her hips and to drive his cock between her legs. Spike groaned and undulated against her, feeling her wetness soak through the nylon of her panties onto his erection.

Her hands fell limp, so he risked releasing them, quickly moving down her body and stripping her panties off her. Buffy gaped at him, then squirmed, trying to drag the t-shirt down again. Spike moved faster than she did, though, and was over her again, his arms pinning hers to the mattress.

"Surrender, luv," he whispered erotically into one ear before nipping the lobe and sucking on the tender flesh behind it.

Buffy was unable to prevent her knees raising and pressing against his hips. She felt his cock slide along her wet, throbbing flesh, and whimpered, her eyes closed, her body on fire with longing.

Still, she shook her head, refusing to say the words.

With a sigh, Spike raised up slightly, then slid his cock inside her until he was sheathed in her heat. Eyes nearly crossing, he began to thrust steadily, rubbing her tender clit with each movement. Buffy lay still beneath him, trying to keep her breathing even, not struggling, but not meeting his thrusts either.

She was unable to prevent her vaginal muscles from squeezing and fluttering around his cock, as her desire continued to build. Swallowing convulsively, she began to breathe harder, trying to control herself.

Eyes closed, Spike listened to every sound she made, delighting in the almost inaudible whimpers, the increased breathing, the growing wet slapping of his flesh against hers. She wasn't fucking him back, but the passiveness was in itself a huge turn-on. And, every squeeze of her passage nearly sent him out of his mind.

Focusing on her pleasure, he ground down on her clit, grinning at the groan that echoed from her, and got a slight rise of her hips in response. He did it again and again, listening to her breathing turn to sharp pants for air. Her lower body and arms were growing slippery with perspiration and he could feel the increase in heat her body was giving off.

Lowering his head, he captured her lips in a carnal kiss, and began to slam his cock into her. Helpless, Buffy moaned and met his thrusts, her hips bouncing wildly on the bed as her orgasm crashed through her.

Feeling her coming, Spike grunted deeply, and pulled out of her, rising to his knees. Through hooded eyes, he watched her shudder and whimper in pleasure, then finally open her eyes. They were glazed and uncomprehending.

Her gaze met his, and she panted harshly, then her eyes slid down his body to his engorged cock. Hesitantly, she licked her lips, then pushed herself up enough to pull the t-shirt over her head. As it flew across the room, she took hold of Spike's shoulders and pulled him back down to her.

"Again..."

With a growl of pleasure, Spike buried himself in her again, pumping wildly, his eyes tinged with yellow, his nostrils flared. Buffy met each thrust, her arms and legs wrapped around him, her head thrashing on the pillow.

Rolling them, Spike lifted her over him, his hands on her hips. He slammed her up and down on his cock like a rag doll. Buffy whimpered and keened, grinding against him, her fingers digging into his chest, her whole legs and breasts shaking.

With mutual cries of ecstasy, they came, their bodies shuddering and pounding against each others, until Buffy slumped forward, sobbing in pleasure.

Smiling sappily, Spike stroked her back as she sprawled on top of him, her pussy still clutching his cock inside her.

"No more fighting?" he whispered.

"...No." Mentally, Buffy made the adjustment and accepted her lust for Spike. She was too exhausted to fight it at the moment. Maybe in the morning...

The End

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