reality2

She smiles, slipping her tongue inside his mouth for a deep, slow kiss. Pulling back, she slips her hands into his robe. �You know,� she says softly, �there is something really perverted about making out with you while you�re wearing this. We shouldn�t get busy in front of the innocent little duckies.� She unties the robe, pulling it off his shoulders. He sits up and shrugs it off, tossing it to the floor.

Spike looks down at Buffy. She is wearing a pink nightshirt, which is decorated with a watercolor drawing of a fluffy white cat. �We�ve really got to do something about your nightclothes, love. Don�t you have anything with lace, or satin? Something not in a pastel?� he asks.

She looks up at him sultrily. �Well,� she says, licking her lips. �I guess I�ll have to work on that. In the meantime, you�ll just have to make a sacrifice and look at me naked.� She tosses the shirt over her head. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders. She arches her back, thrusting her breasts into the air.

Spike pounces on her, licking her in a long sweep from her neck down to the curl of her hip. Buffy gasps, moving underneath him. He looks down at her, his eyes devouring her naked body. Gently, he turns her on her stomach. �Your skin is so fine, like rich Devon cream,� he says, pulling her hair aside to nibble gently on the back of her neck. His hands trail down her back, caressing her soft skin. He rubs her back with firm, knowing strokes, releasing all of the tension from her muscles. �You taste so good,� he murmurs, licking his way down her spine. He reaches the globes of her ass, licking and biting them. �Like a fresh Anjou pear,� he says,� just the right texture.�

Gently turning her over, he looks down at her face. Buffy�s eyes are closed, and she looks totally relaxed. He cups her breast in one hand. �Your breast is like the sweetest, ripest apple,� he says softly, kissing the smooth white skin. His tongue darts out, sweeping across her nipple. �Sweeter than cherries.� He moves his mouth to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. He slides down her body. His tongue sweeps into her belly button. She squirms, breathing heavily. He takes tiny bites on her hipbone, gently nipping and sucking. Gently spreading her legs, he closes his mouth on her swollen red clit. She moans, her fingers moving down to grab his ear. He laps at her with his tongue as he uses more and more suction. She crests, moaning loudly as she comes. He moves up her body, watching her face. When she is calm, he kisses her gently on the jaw. �Glorious,� he says,�bursting on my tongue like a ripe juicy melon.�

She pulls her mouth to his as she takes his cock in his hand, guiding her inside her. Wrapping her arms around his back, she pulls close as she moves beneath him. She sucks on his nipple, making him moan and move faster within her. They move in tandem, their bodies perfectly in sync with one another. �Oh, please, now,� she cries, her nails cutting into his back. She bites down hard on his nipple as she tumbles over. He throws his head back, babbling nonsense as he thrusts powerfully within her, gaining his release. They cling to each other, riding out the intensity of their passion.

Spike withdraws, rolling onto his side. Fluffing up his pillow, he lies back, watching Buffy. �You are so incredibly wonderful,� he says. She smiles at him. �Ditto.�

�So, the day is ours, pet. There�s no one in the house. We have nowhere to be. What would you like to do? We�ll do whatever you want,� he says.

�I can do whatever I want?� she says, a devilish glint in her eye.

�Anything,� he says huskily, leaning forward to kiss her.

�Shopping!� Buffy crows.

�Not what I had in mind,� he says, looking crestfallen.

�Look, Spike,� she says. �You have that job interview on Monday, you need to look like a real person. No one will hire you if you look like you usually do.�

He looks hurt. �What�s wrong with what I usually wear?��We all know you�re a big, bad vampire guy. You don�t need to prove anything with the window dressing. It�s really kind of overkill,� explains Buffy earnestly.

�I like the way I dress.� He grumbles. �It�s cool.�

�No one is going to hire a cool guy to teach English. They are expecting a really English English guy. You need to be tweedy, like Giles.�

�I�m not going to dress like Giles!� He stands up, pacing.

�Fine, but you can wear some nice slacks, a turtleneck, a jacket. Branch out. Shake hands with the brave new world of color.� She sits, up crossing her arms across her chest. �Look, Spike. You made the effort to get hold of counterfeited papers so that you can work. If you�re serious about helping out financially, this is the best thing going. A night job, a professional job that you actually have the credentials for. It would bring in more money than the kind of job I can get with no skills and a high school diploma.�

Seeing the truth of what she is saying, he looks over at her. �Okay, I�ll do it.� She smiles at him brightly. He holds up a hand in warning. �But I�m telling you now, you better not get carried away with the makeover. I have my limits.�

�I promise,� she says. �Why don�t you go take a shower and we�ll get ready to go.� He wanders out of the room. Buffy pulls her crossed fingers out from behind her back. �We�ll see about limits,� she says.