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Once More With Smut

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What Else?

The last rays of the sunlight were fading as Buffy entered Spike's crypt. He was coming up the ladder as she shut the door behind her.

“The sun sets, and she appears,” the Vampire commentated. “Come to serenade me?”

“So you know what's going on,” Buffy replied. It was a statement, not a question, but Spike answered regardless.

“Well, I've seen some damn funny things, last two days. Six hundred pound Chorago demon making like Yma Sumac, that one'll stay with you. I remain immune, happy to say. Drink?”

The Slayer declined. “You know anything about what's causing this?”

“So, that’s it?” Spike looked disappointed. “You’ve just come to pump me for information?”

“What else would I want to pump you for?” she asked, before realizing how the words sounded. “I really just said that, didn’t I?”

Not missing a beat, Spike approached her, stood tall well inside her personal space and said, “Well, luv, if you are offering.” The Slayer rolled her eyes, and he narrowed his, before adding, “Know you’re not above it. Did it for me once before, if I recall.”

Buffy blanched at the memory. “We agreed there would be no recalling!”

Spike shrugged. “Gotta have some memories to keep me warm at night. And spell induced engagement fumbling aside, I will point out that I’ve brought you to climax ten times in recent weeks, and you haven’t so much as touched me.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” said Buffy.

“No,” he agreed, “You don’t.” Then he tried to move away, but she reached out to stop him.

“It’s so typical of you to keep track of my climaxes.”

When Spike shrugged again, the gesture was accompanied by a grin. “Like I said,” he drawled, “Gotta have something to think about, while I…”

Buffy felt flushed, and a little breathless. “Y-You think of me?”

“Always you,” he said, in an almost reverent whisper.

Then she unzipped him, and had his member leap out of his pants into the palm of her hand.

“Don’t have to,” he reminded her.

“I know,” she replied, looking at it, then back at him with a smile. “I want to.”

She stroked his flesh up and down – gently, at first, then harder – with one hand, getting a feel for him. And, not to be outdone for the services he’d provided her with, she then went one better and got to her knees before him, not breaking the rhythm. Spike had his eyes closed by that point, and was so lost in the sensation that he wasn’t aware of her shift until he felt her lips graze against the head of his cock.

His eyes flew open – locked onto hers, seeking silent confirmation that she really did want to do what she was doing. Nodding slightly, she let her hand drift down to his balls as she took him into her mouth. He moaned and took a grasp of her hair, before starting to hum an old love song he used to play on the piano, during his human days.

It was bizarre, Buffy thought, but she found herself liking it anyway. As her ministrations grew more amorous he put words to the tune, and sang louder as he lost control. It only spurred the Slayer on, and before she knew it her mouth and hands were working together in a frenzy to get him off. She’d never enjoyed the experience of giving oral before but, then again, she’d never enjoyed receiving it before him, either. She started to wonder if everything she knew about sex was wrong or, at least, a pale imitation of the real thing he could show her. When he came – loudly – and she drank him down, she decided she wanted to find out. Dancing demons be damned, she threw her lover to the floor of the crypt and rode him mercilessly until all of the other problems and issues she faced didn’t seem to matter either.