At first, Buffy ignored the whispers. Cordelia and her posse were always whispering about how hot this guy was, or how much she was going to seduce this dude, how her dad was taking her to meet this minor celebrity in LA. But when the whispers spread, when other people were talking about the hot new soccer coach with the killer body and to die for accent. Well. She took notice.

She took a lot of notice.

William Pratt really was hot. Not in the 'high school boys are ssssoooo last semester, the only attractive candidates are teachers' kind of way. He was hot in the 'fuck me now' kind of way, from his cleat-shod feet to his hawkish nose, to those eyes. Damn, those eyes. Buffy wanted nothing more than for him to take her up on the offer.

Buffy leaned back on the bleachers and watched him demonstrate a drill, muscled legs flashing.

Fuck Cordelia. The new soccer coach was going to fuck her.


Spike leaned into the stretch, forearms brushing against the ground. He glanced between his legs and caught his breath. A beautiful blonde girl, trim and wearing those ass-hugging cheerleader shorts, was jogging around the track. He'd seen her skirting the periphery of his vision all week, watching, assessing. Her eyes flicked over him and Spike contained his smirk. High schoolers. They thought they knew it all, had such smooth moves. Children playacting as adults.

Spike caught up his whistle and blew two sharp blasts. His team shagged balls as they came in to get direction, Mike and Eric showing off their juggling skills for the jogging blonde. Marcus did a rainbow just as the girl passed by. The girl arched a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at the boys, and Spike could see her eyes were emerald green. A ball dribbled into her path, and the girl paused in her jogging. Spike watched the pubescent exchange.

"Hey Buffy. Wanna ball me?" Marcus asked. The boys guffawed at the bloody awful pun, and the girl—Buffy—smiled sweetly, all bubblegum and rainbows.

"Sure, Marcus. I'd love to." Marcus disguised his confusion with a broad, empty smile. Buffy rolled the ball a few paces in front of her, took two steps up, and fired the ball right into Marcus's stomach. The boy doubled over with a curse and the rest of the team snickered. Buffy's twinkling gaze swept over Spike and he felt a flush of heat. Damn. That was inconvenient.


Buffy was everywhere Spike turned. In the gym hall, talking to the various coaches and PE teachers, walking out of the girl's locker room in short-shorts and a sports bra that didn't seem overly...sporty. And then there was that time Buffy had 'stumbled' into him with a twisted ankle and looked up through green lashes as he carried her to the trainer.

He still remembered how she felt, firm ass wiggling in his arms. Chit was getting injured on account of getting near him; least he could do was oblige her with a trip to Trainer Kat. And if he felt her eyes on him during practice, caught her teasing smiles and suggestive hand movements, well...couldn't sue a man for his fantasies.

But it was wrong, and he'd never cross that thick, solid line drawn around her.


Buffy leaned back against the bleachers and contemplated her prey. He was proving far more...elusive than she would have thought. Oh, he noticed her. He noticed her in a major way. It was just nudging him to that next step, pushing him over the line that was giving her problems. William Pratt seemed like the kind of man who'd think twice about stumbling over the ethical line. But once he was over it...

Buffy got up to do her stretches, starting with a straight-down the middle groin stretch. She angled it so Coach Pratt got a good view. She had a great ass, and she wasn't afraid to use it.


Spike tried to look away, but it was like a bloody stain on your trousers: once you knew it was there, you couldn't stop seeing it. Really, Buffy was holding that stretch far too long for it to be mere stretching, or healthy. She could over tax the ligaments and end up with some serious complications down the road.

Spike turned his attention back to his team. It was almost time for practice to be over...and he bet his boys would appreciate an early evening.

"Alright, cool down and get out of here. Y'did alright today." A tired cheer went up from the Sunnydale High men's soccer team. They made it through their cool down in records time (which defeated the purpose, but Spike wasn't going to call them on it) and cleared out as fast as they could, underclassmen catching rides with the uppers.

Spike gathered up the ball bags, obediently collected by the Freshmen. He trudged over to the equipment shack and squared the balls and cones away. When he turned around, he saw Buffy standing underneath the stands staring at her cellphone and worrying her bottom lip. Spike ignored the warning voice in his head that screamed out while he walked towards her.

"Problem, pet?" Spike asked, voice bedroom-dark. Buffy glanced up and blushed, her cheeks still round with the last vestiges of baby fat.

"My ride's backed out on me. I'm kind of stuck here for a while." She pushed her lower lip out in a pout.

"'s that right, luv?"

Buffy shivered as the words washed over her. "Yeah. But it's Ok. I'll...amuse myself." Spike huffed a laugh; she imbued amuse with such meaning.

"Yeah, well, it's my duty as a coach and employee of the district not to leave you alone on school property," Spike announced. His conscience tried to talk sense into him, but Spike only gave it half a mind. "Wouldn't want some big bad t'eat you up."

"Thank you, Coach Pratt." Buffy stepped close enough that her breath wafted against his shirt, looking up coyly.

"Spike," he managed to choke. She tilted her head to the side puppy-dog curious. "You can call me Spike."

"Alright. Thank you Coach...Spike." He was going to hell for the thrill hearing her call him 'coach' gave him. And the fact he was getting hard for a student, hot though she was. "I'd like to thank you, Coach Spike."

Spike swallowed hard, feeling his pulse speed up. She grabbed his whistle and fondled it in an unseemly manner. Spike swallowed and tried to follow the conversation.

"I might need some coaching though."

"What--?" Spike mumbled incoherently. His eyes tracked the whistle shifting from side to side in bubblegum-pink nails.

"If I'm going to thank you. I've never...thanked anyone before. Like that." Buffy licked her lips suggestively. Spike went from interested to unbearably hard in moments imagining Buffy's virginal mouth wrapped around his cock. Christ. "But if you don't mind giving me a few pointers..."

Spike shook his head and Buffy dropped to her knees. He swore and stopped her as her hands rested against his soccer shorts. "Can't do it, pet. 'S wrong."

Buffy's tongue swept across her lips. "I won't tell," she promised silkily, pulling the short end of the belt free. Spike tightened his grip.

"That's not the point, Goldilocks." Spike desperately tried to remind himself that she was a teenager, his student, and he couldn't go through with this. But Buffy was looking up at him with want lighting her eyes, virgin lips pressed together in a pout, dexterous fingers pulling his shorts ever downwards...and his conscience was fading under the onslaught of lust.

"It's not? I thought you were supposed to teach us things." Buffy slipped the shorts down another inch. She could see Spike's hard cock outlined through the thin layers between them.

"Pet..." Spike trailed off with a groan as Buffy lightly brushed her fingers against his hardness.

"I've done it all backwards," she told him, eyes fixed on his groin. "I've had sex. Had oral. Been fingered. I've never given head though." She looked up at him. "I'd really like to learn."

Spike felt dirty and wrong but gave in anyways because those green eyes looking up at him, so earnest. He let her pull his shorts down around his ankles like he was in high school. His cock strained against dark boxer briefs, and he gasped as she reached in and pulled him out. He watched her through darkened eyes, her movements tinged with the utter wrongness of the whole scene.

She looked up, sincere and earnest. "Tell me what to do?" Spike groaned and trailed a finger over her cheek and into her mouth. She curled her tongue around him and sucked, making Spike swear and think about every disgusting image in the world to talk himself back. He was better than these high school fucks she saw everyday.

"Alright pet. I'll...yeah." Buffy smiled up at him and settled in between his legs with determination. "Jus' take the head," he instructed. Even though he was ready for it, the shock of her warm mouth around his sensitive cock head made him shudder and moan. "Good girl. Tha's it. Now suck."

Buffy smiled and rand her tongue against the flesh in her mouth, applying suction and pressure at Spike's gasped commands. She felt the slit and tongued it, surprised at the full-body shudder that elicited. Something to play with later.

"I'm going further, pet," Spike gasped out. "Just take it. Don't try to do anything just let me..." Buffy nodded and Spike held her head as he slid further in. Not too far; he held there as Buffy adjusted to the sensation, the flat of her tongue brushing the underside of Spike's erection. He gasped his approval and started gently thrusting into her willing mouth, fucking it with gentle ease. Buffy let him use her, going with the gentle bobbing motion. From the way Spike was gasping and the half-words he was muttering, she figured she wasn't doing half-bad for her first blow job.

When he couldn't take it anymore, Spike pulled Buffy off his cock. Christ, the girl had a mouth made for fucking. No one should be that tempting. Buffy was still on her knees, looking up at him with her wide eyes. A slow smile stretched across her wicked lips, and she licked them with an air of wantonness.

"If you thought that was good..." she trailed off and Spike arched an eyebrow, urging her on, "...then you should fuck me."

Spike whimpered. Too much. He was too aroused, too far gone to listen to the last vestiges of his morality die, consumed in the embers of unmitigated lust. He hauled her up and flipped her around, pressing her over a bencher rail. It wasn't comfortable, and it wasn't gentle.

Spike pulled aside her cheerleading underwear, the only thing that prevented her little costume from being completely indecent and vulgar. It slid aside easily to reveal the pink butterfly of her sex, wet with arousal. He didn't bother checking her; that would require thought and contemplation, and if he stopped to do that this would be over.

He pushed into her in one hard stroke. She gasped and arched against him, writhing in his grip.

"Ah ah, Goldilocks. None of that. Gotta be quiet." She moaned loudly, and Spike growled at her. This wouldn't do; the women's soccer team had a game tonight and people would be coming to set up soon. But he thrust again and Buffy's nonverbal sounds of encouragement, while delicious, were dangerous. His whistle bounced between them and Spike got an idea.

He quickly pulled the whistle off his neck and skipped it over her head. Spike thrust deep into her quim and growled in her ear, "Didn't your parents teach you silence is golden, pet?" Buffy arched back and gasped. Spike took the chance to slip the lanyard of his whistle between her plush lips, pulling it down and tight. Buffy moaned around the thin gag. It bit into the crease of her lips, almost like a bit.

"If you're not silent, I'll stop luv." Buffy whimpered quietly. "You wouldn't like that, would you?" Buffy shook her head emphatically. "Good. I'm going to fuck you now, pet. Like none of these boys ever have. You'll feel it for days after, pet, while you're sitting in your classes, doing your splits. You'll feel me."

Buffy barely had time to process before Spike was slamming into her, fingers digging into her stomach. She was bent over the crossbar and all she could do was hang on.

God, he was incredible.

Every time she made a sound he stopped. Immediately. None of the boys she'd been with had that kind of control. They could barely keep it together enough to get in, much less rock her down to her very bones. Because Spike...shit. He was perfect, a little girthy and just the right length. He knew how to use it, too. She concentrated on not making a noise because if Spike stopped, she was sure she'd die.

Spike was determined to make this last; he wasn't going to get another chance at this, shouldn't be doing this in the first place. So yeah, this was going to last. He pulled on the whistle, making Buffy's head arch back, the long line of her neck glistening with sweat. He licked up the side of it and she moaned. His hips stuttered to a stop, cock deep inside her.

"Thought we agreed you'd be quiet as a mouse, pet," he growled. He pulled back on the whistle, Buffy's lips stretching back painfully. Spike slipped a hand underneath her cheerleading top and pinched the tight nipple. Buffy gasped, writhing against Spike. Spike twisted the abused nipple in his fingers, pain sparking alongside her pleasure. "Now, are we going to behave?" Buffy nodded her head frantically, as much as she could with the whistle strap tight in her mouth.

Spike started fucking her again, the cotton panties adding friction against his cock when he pulled out and then slammed back in. Buffy's barely audible grunts fueled him on. Christ, she was tight, and hot, and willing. And so, so wrong. He reached down and found her clit, rubbed it through the cotton. A flood of hot wetness wrapped around his cock, her channel turning slicker, and she was coming—still silent, mouth open in pleasure, the dark slash of the whistle across it.

Spike rode out her orgasm, the strong grip of her internal muscles, and then let himself go. Stars exploded behind his eyes, he forgot how to breath.

Bugger. A cheerleader just gave him the best fuck of his life.

A/N: If you're watching my account and looking from updates from me, I'm going to suggest you either go to my personal website for future updates, or look me up on LiveJournal. (You can find a link to those sites from my bio profile.) I'm doing this because is a) a pit of despaire where bad fic comes to flourish and b) not a place that allows mature/adult content, and I'd like to not continue breaking their TOS, however badly moderated and policed this place is.