Buffy smiled and downed her final vial. She held it up, feeling an odd mix of emotions washing over her. She, Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, the girl who wasn't supposed to live much past eighteen, was trying to have a baby. With a vampire. Her life was perfect.
She gently placed the empty vial alongside the other ones, and examined herself in the mirror. What would she look like in a couple of months? Would her boobs get bigger? He stomach surely would, but what about the rest of her body? She'd read a bunch of things, but still…well, she wasn't pregnant yet. And she should really remedy that.
Her hair was straight and flowing, longer than she'd ever had it before. Her make up was light, though her eyes were darker and alluring, and her clothes…well, those were designed to make Spike jump her bones as soon as he saw her. She adjusted her lacy bra and smiled. This was going to be fun! Buffy sashayed out of the bathroom and went in search of her mate.
She stalked through their three-bedroom apartment, grateful that they no longer had any potentially embarrassing/scaring parental moments. Buffy had walked in on her mom and Giles once and that had been it. She'd picked out the first suitable apartment and that had been the end of that…though there was something about the whole incident that made her think it had been engineered. But that was the paranoid part of her thinking, and right now she had a mate to seduce.
She found Spike on the couch reading some old, dusty book that smelled a bit musty. She grinned and struck a pose in the doorframe.
"Hello lover-boy." Everything in Spike was suddenly focused 100 on the woman behind him. He could smell her arousal and hear the i want /i in her voice. He slowly turned his head, a small growl escaping his lips.
Buffy smirked. Spike's blue eyes were already fading into gold when he looked at her, a testament to how quickly she could make him lose control. She felt powerful, extremely sexy, and hella turned on. Spike's eyes burned a trail on her skin, lingering on the red-and-black ensemble that covered his favorite parts of her. Like the predator he was, he slowly unfurled himself from the couch, his movements smooth and controlled, an almost careless languidity to them.
A wall of want/lust/love slammed into her through their bond, and she whimpered. There was a fire burning merrily away in her abdomen that only he could stop. Spike's predatory smile wasn't helping either. Her mouth watered when he shed his shirt, the muscles rippling under his pale skin. He grinned at the lascivious look she was giving him. Gods he loved this woman.
He finally covered the ground that separated them, pausing to revel in the heat her body gave off. He inhaled, enjoying the scent of his mate's arousal. It was a heady, musky scent that held the promise of naughty things to come. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
"I love you," he whispered, before capturing her lips in a searing, demanding kiss. Buffy's hands were on his pants, poised to release his poor, trapped cock when a pounding on the door echoed through the room.
"You're fuckin' kidding me!" Buffy snarled, glaring balefully in the general direction of their hated front door.
"Ignore it," Spike commanded, lifting her up and pressing her against the wall. She moaned, feeling the bulge in his jeans rubbing against her.
But the pounding refused to stop or go away, and whoever was at the door suddenly discovered the doorbell. With a curse, Spike dropped Buffy on her feet and hobbled to the door, nearly tearing the annoying chunk of wood off its hinges.
"This had better be bloody fucking important!" A dumbfounded Giles stared in growing horror at the enraged master vampire before him, who was looking thoroughly…mussed. Yes, mussed was an appropriate word. He wasn't wearing a shirt, the top buttons of his jeans were open, and his normally impeccable hair was sticking every which way. And he was giving the watcher the Death Glare usually reserved for Angel.
"E-e-e-emergency," Giles spluttered, trying to ignore what Spike—and by extension, Buffy—had been doing.
Spike leveled a Piercing Look at his fellow Englishman and decided he could live…this time. Giles began fidgeting under Spike's stare, his hands itching to take off his glasses.
"Fine." Spike growled, slamming the door in Giles' face. The watcher was too busy being relieved that he'd left to care about Spike's rudeness.
Spike and Buffy made it out in ten minutes, neither of them in a particularly happy mood. Giles stayed as far away from Buffy's sword as he could, convinced she'd use it to decapitate him…though Spike's axe wasn't an appealing alternative.
"What do I get to kill?" she asked with deadly anger in her voice. Every line of her body radiated frustrated ire.
"A-a-a-a group of m-magick practitioners. Willow and I have ascertained that they are trying to reverse a spell, something the Powers have in place, though we haven't quite managed to find out what. But their counterspell involves the sacrificing of virgins, and with the amount of power they're tapping into, were they to succeed, the results could be—"
"Apocalyptic, yeah yeah. I have the limited edition mug."
Buffy and Spike killed the virgin-sacrificing demons in record time as Giles escorted the six terrified virgins to safety and (hopefully) to get laid; the 3:3 male to female ratio worked in their favor. Spike looked over at his mate, holding a bloody axe, her chest heaving, and he knew he had to have her. NOW. He tossed the sword aside—he didn't even remember switching weapons—and stalked towards her.
He pushed her up against a crypt, his demon reveling in her scent, smelling her heady blood where someone had nicked her. He growled when she pushed back, stumbling back and dragging her with him. They fell to the ground, Buffy on top of him, their kisses demanding and rough; their need was immediate and couldn't be put off. They pushed aside the clothes that kept them from one another frantically. With a sigh, Spike felt himself enveloped by Buffy's scorching heat, the warm depths of his mate heavenly and peaceful. He rolled them over, their love and need surging through the bond and growing with every pass it made.
Buffy arched her back, reveling in the feelings and emotions her mate produced in her. She felt herself reaching the precipice, and opened herself to him fully. And she was in him, and he was in her, and she had no idea where one stopped and the other began. She felt the walls of her quim pulsing around her hard, throbbing member; she saw herself through Spike's eyes, her face mired in ecstasy. She felt his deep, unyielding love for her, and soothed the raw places within him; she felt him completely, just as she knew he felt everything she was. They were one, together; there were no secrets in this place. She screamed in pleasure when they lunged for Buffy's throat, feeling the seductiveness of the bite, her body's answer to the deep pulls of blood. With a strangled cry, they came together; a gentle hint of red threaded through their vision, a sign that the magical fertility potion was doing its work.
Their orgasmic bliss was cut short as a wall of power struck them, flinging the lovers into a nearby crypt. A warlock with his head half cut off staggered drunkenly towards the fallen couple. Buffy watched, stunned and unable to move, as he raised his hand to hurl another remnant of the power the group had summoned at them. But before he managed to release it, he collapsed, and the energy turned back on its holder. The warlock died screaming.
Spike's vision was blurry, but nothing could blunt the stench of burning flesh. He was never more thankful that he was a vampire and therefore didn't have anything to throw up. Buffy wasn't as lucky.
"No more sex in the cemetery," she muttered darkly, her eyes bugging a little. This was not the romantic night of baby-makin' love she'd envisioned.
"Let's get you home kitten…and I'll make up for it." Despite the nauseous stench, Buffy found she could still muster up a leer.