He saw her the moment he stepped into the bar. It was hard not to. She owned the dance floor. Hell, she owned the whole place. Every eye—male and female—was on her. Most that approached her were rebuffed; the lucky few received a smile and a dismissal.
He was hard just from looking at her.
Clearing his head, he made his way over to the bar.
"What can I get you?" the bartender called over the blare of the music.
"Whatever's on tap," Spike called back. He glanced back towards the blonde and changed his mind. "Make that a whiskey. On the rocks." The bartender followed his glance and snorted.
"I'll make it a double."
Buffy rolled her eyes as the latest hopeful wannabee made a less that smooth pass at her, shooing him away before he could even get the cheesy line out of his mouth. Really, sometimes it was just pathetic.
"That one was kind of cute," Willow offered solicitously. Buffy arched an incredulous eyebrow at her best friend.
"Honey, I think your straight-dar is off," Tara giggled, taking in Buffy's expression.
"Why are all the guys in Sunnydale weirdo creeps?" Buffy lamented.
"You could always go XX," Willow suggested helpfully.
"You took the only good one," Buffy sighed. It was slim pickin's on all sides of the fence. Buffy was about to give up and go home to her sister when HE walked into the club. Buffy caught a flash of bright white out of the corner of her eye and saw the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She quickly turned away as his head moved, trying to figure out her best course of action.
She made small talk with Willow, all the while keeping her eye on the stunning blonde man who made her pulse race faster than anyone she'd ever met. Come to think of it, she hadn't exactly met him…and she was damned and determined to change that.
"I need a refill, anyone else?" Buffy asked perkily, ignoring the confusion her complete non sequitur caused. "No one? Alright! Be right back!"
"What in the…" Willow wondered, staring at the retreating form of her best friend.
"I think Buffy may have found someone who met her standards," Tara murmured against her girlfriend's neck, her eyes picking out the platinum blonde man sitting at the bar. He had a distinct devil-may-care air about him that Buffy was sure to love, but it was his aura that spoke to Tara. He mirrored Buffy almost perfectly, thought there was something odd to it that she'd never seen before, something missing but...not. There was some element that was waiting to be added. But she knew, without a doubt, that this was someone to keep an eye on.
Spike had just ordered his second whiskey when he discovered that his golden goddess had moved. Her friends were still there, but she was no where to be seen. Spike scowled into his drink.
"That is not the face of someone having a good time," a smirking voice said beside him. Spike turned, ready to give whoever it was the brush off, and almost chocked when he saw her standing next to him, up close and smelling wonderful. She winked at him, before turning her attention to the bartender. "I'll take a whiskey sour, bar boy!"
Spike tried to control himself. He felt like a high school nerd trying to talk to the most popular girl in school. His tongue felt heavy and thick, and he hadn't even tried to talk to her.
"Here you are, Babe. One extra sour whiskey sour for my lamby-kinsky-poo," the bartender said. Spike tried not to growl at the man's casually playful tone and his woman. No. Not his woman. Not yet...
"Are you trying to tell me something, Lorneykins?" Spike would give anything for that playfully flirty tone to be directed at him. Spike glanced at the bartender, who adopted a look of altar boy innocence.
"MOI? Buffy Summers, I'm shocked at you, thinking I wouldn't tell you that you're a sour puss that needs to get laid yesterday to your face!" Spike almost choked again.
"Lorne!" Buffy yelled, though she couldn't help the laughter that was bubbling up. "I'm actively looking for an acceptable prospect," she informed him primly, once she'd gathered herself. What in the world was Lorne doing, calling her out in front of gorgeous yummy guy?! Lorne just rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the blonde stud he'd seen his friend eying from all the way across the room.
"I'll give you a free drink if you kiss the hell out of le hotness to your right," Lorne told him. Spike's mouth dropped open. His turned to look at the 'hotness,' whose eyes were twinkling mischievously.
"Is kissing me worth a free drink?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. Maybe Lorne wouldn't have to die this night. Spike took a moment to close him mouth, arch and eye brow, and throw back the rest of his drink. That done, he swiveled around on his bar stool, grabbed the woman of his dreams, and kissed the hell out of her.
Buffy melted into the kiss, mentally thanking Lorne with every fiber of her being. Well, the fibers that weren't currently on fire and totally fixated on the man kissing her with more skill and finesse than should be legal.
She moaned as his slender fingers found the gap between her pants and her shirt. And to think she'd been momentarily pissed at Lorne for his little comment.
They broke apart when the need to breath became overwhelming. Panting, they stood there, looking into one another's eyes.
"Lorne?" Buffy asked, never taking her gaze off the piercing blue eyes hazy with lust.
"Shoo, go home, be safe," Lorne said with amusement, making shooing motions neither of them really saw.
They stumbled out of the club, attached at the lips. Spike had her pressed up against the side of his car, grinding his erection into her and savoring her throaty moans when her words pierced his sex-addled mind.
"Wait. Stop." Spike pulled back, breathing hard, trying to collect his wits. "What's your name?" He stared blankly at her, trying to process her question. "What. Is. Your. Name?" It was the hint of amusement that pulled him back.
"Spike." He glared when she began giggling. "Because Buffy is SUCH a gem." To his surprise, Buffy just started laughing harder, which in turn set him off. When they'd settled down, their libidos had relaxed a bit as well, leaving them in the awkward in-between state.
"My place is pretty close," Buffy murmured, her eyes fixated on Spike's full lips.
"Yeah?" he asked, leaning towards her.
"Oh yeah." Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss, so different from the wildly heated kisses that had consumed them before. This…this was kindling. When they broke apart, Spike opened the car door for Buffy, trying to quell the part of him that was jumping up and down with joy that this gorgeous creature was taking him home. He didn't even remember the drive to her apartment, driving on autopilot, or making it to her room.
His brain caught up with him sometime between her turning off the lights and lighting a pillar candle. Her sheer beauty aroused the poet in him, the way her golden hair gleamed in the flickering light, and her eyes seemed luminous.
Trembling, he reached out and ran his fingers through her hair.
"Beautiful," he breathed reverently. He saw her blush and wondered if she blushed everywhere…and realized he'd get the chance to find out. Stepping closer, he gathered her in his arms, kissing her and enjoying the way she melted into him.
Buffy was in heaven. The way Spike kissed…her knees felt weak and her body screamed for more. She worked her hands under his shirt, feeling the goose bumps that followed her gentle touch. She meandered upwards, taking his shirt with her.
Spike growled his disapproval at being parted from her soft lips, but her look froze him. Her eyes were devouring the sight of his chiseled chest, raking over his exposed flesh like a starved woman. She raised one hand and traced the hard planes of his abs, pleased at the shiver her touch evoked.
Spike bore the torture of her gentle exploration as long as he could, before his sensitized nerve endings demanded more. Gasping, he pulled her close to him, claiming her mouth as his hands roved over her smooth back. He pulled her shirt off, his mouth fasted on her before she knew he was gone, the passionate need back full force. His lips traced a path down her jaw, to her collar bone, and down to her navel.
"Spike!" He almost came at the breathy note of want in her voice. Looking up, he slowly drew the zipper of her pants down, divesting her of the annoying clothing. Tossing them aside, he sat back to observe the utter perfection of his golden goddess in red lacy lingerie. And yes, she did blush all the way down.
Buffy blushed under his scrutiny, feeling his gaze like a trail of fire against her skin. When their eyes met, she sank down to her knees, even with him. She couldn't remember wanting anyone as much as she wanted him right now. Completing that thought, she launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around him and grinding against the rigid length.
Spike groaned, half in pain, half in ecstatic pleasure. His pants were starting to chafe, and he couldn't wait to get rid of them. It was hard with the limpet attached to his front, not that he was complaining. Laughing, he stumbled to the bed, simultaneously support Buffy and trying to take off his pants. She upped the ante by worrying his ear, doing sinful things with her tongue. He toppled them onto the bed with a grunt, finally shucking his pants off.
Buffy zeroed on the most interesting length of flesh exposed. Spike gasped and arched into her hand, his eyes crossing.
"God pet, tha's amazin'." Buffy smirked and caressed him again. "Jesus!"
"I like a man who goes commando," she whispered in his ear. Spike shuddered again. This woman was going to be the death of him.
Spike decided that he'd had enough torture, and decided to turn the tables. Without warning, he nudged her slinky red bra aside and latched onto a nipple. He held her down with his hips, sucking on his treat, his hands dipping below the elastic of her underwear, sliding it down.
"Grashagla-ha!" Buffy managed.
"What was that?" Spike asked innocently.
"I me-ent fuck!" Spike smirked as he slowly rubbed his thumb against her clit, one finger teasing her opening. "Spike!" He slowly slid his finger into her, curling up to find the spongy spot within her. He had her writhing and moaning against the bed in no time, bra skewed and looking absolutely fuckable. He was surprised when she grabbed his hand, trapping him with strength he wouldn't have thought compacted into her lithe body.
"I want you now." Spike stared at her, lost in his world of want. "I'm protected."
"I'm clean," he heard himself say. Buffy yanked him down to her, crushing their lips together. She used her grip to guide him to her, rubbing the tip of his penis against her wet opening. He gasped, struggling to hold on, pushing forward towards her heat. It wasn't long until they were both moaning with completion, enjoying the feeling of him seated with her, her walls wrapped snugly around his cock.
"God, pet. The things you do to me…" His voice was ragged and husky.
"I haven't even started," she whispered, before tightening her muscles around him. It felt like his cock was caught in a really pleasurable vice. She was gripping the hell out of him. With a moan, he started to move, driving into her welcoming warmth. He played with her clit, savoring ever moan and groan and tiny gasp.
Buffy drew her fingernails over Spike's back, urging him on. She wrapped her legs around him, angling him deeper. He felt glorious, big and thick and pulsing within her. She was close, so close, but she didn't want it to end.
"Spike," she murmured. He grunted, his thrusts speeding up, feeling the need within her. "Spike!"
"Come for me, Buffy," he gasped out. "Come for me." And she did, loudly and gloriously, pulsating around him. Her muscles clenched around him, unforgiving, demanding his submission, which he gave with a hoarse shout, collapsing on top of her.
It was a while before either of them could move, before their muscles would even allow them to roll over. When they did, Buffy snuggled into Spike's embrace, the two of them falling asleep as if they had been doing this for years.