Unmentionable

by Sweetprincipale

A sequel to "Uncontrollable". Please read that first, or this won't make much sense. Begins about a week after the "Uncontrollable" version of the incidents at the Lowell House in "Where the Wild Things Are".

Short, smutty Spuffy that may have a bit of plot tossed in. Please read and review!

Dedicated to trashyfiction, Sirius120, jamiee001, Dreylin, and DLillith21

Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.

Part I

"Hey." Buffy slid into the front seat of the DeSoto as it pulled up alongside her as she walked towards the dorms.

"Hey yourself. Saw you over on McLane Ave. Knocked that Venadentis demon for six." Spike blew a shaft of grayish mentholated smoke out the open door.

"Was that what that thing was?" Buffy shivered. "All teeth and the stupid thing kept trying to bite my wrists."

"It eats by suckin' your veins out." Spike snorted. "Don't teach you much at Slayer School, do they?" He mocked.

"They taught me how to make you explode into little pieces of dust." Buffy smiled nastily.

"Yeah, they did, Pet. An' who taught you how to make me jus' plain explode?" Spike asked, running one finger lightly up her leather sleeve.

"I- I don't know." Buffy suddenly felt like there wasn't enough air, like she couldn't breathe properly. "Demonic house thingys?"

"Mm, maybe the first time- or dozen." He let his hand fall, he wasn't pushy- well, not to the extent he'd get his jaw cracked. "Now the three or four times since..."

"We should stop this." Buffy looked at her knees.

"Why? You don't- you haven't changed your mind about what we did? What was done, rather?" He looked at his own knees. It was only a week ago they'd gotten stuck in that cursed frat, made someone's little sex show puppets, forced to feel things they didn't want to feel, do things they didn't want to do- until they found out that they actually were blindingly, bed breakingly good together. And in terms of a love life and all it's hurts and wounds- very, very similar.

Buffy shook her head frantically. "No! No, Spike, I made it really clear, to everyone, that you never hurt me. Even Xander agrees that what they forced us to do was- um- abuse- on both of us. Not you against me."

"Don't like to think you'd ever- you know. I mean I'm evil- but not like that." Spike reminded her, reminded himself. There was a difference between eating children and torturing men before they were dinner just to feel the power of life and death and violence under your hands. There was a difference between that and forcing a woman sexually. He hadn't ever done that- he'd had his whole life and death tied up in women- his rejected love made him go to Drusilla in that alley, his sense of filial love made him return to his mother to try and offer her the same eternal cure from pain and weakness he'd found- or thought he'd found. Still bloody hurt inside when the one you think is yours to love forever leaves you, like Drusilla did- more often than he'd ever admit to himself. And Drusilla was forced, forced before and after her turning, until she bloody well didn't know to say no anymore. Or at least that's what he told himself to believe.

"I know. You asked me. Not that we had a choice."

"So I'm no better than-"

"Hey! Don't do that. Don't beat yourself up. Oh God, what am I saying?"

"Somethin' nice. I don't know why you bother, but I'm glad you're not stakin' me for what I did."

"We did." Buffy corrected. "And we did have a little bit of a choice. Whether or not it was bad or good, and we made it good. Really good. Reeeally, really good." Buffy babbled, and then shook her head to bring herself back on track. "You told me that. The choice stuff."

"Easy Slayer, slow down." Spike chuckled. "Good thing I've got super speed in the hearin' department as well as the reflexes. Glad you're still okay with that night."

Buffy chewed her lip. "I'm okay with the rest of it, too." She let her fingers drift a little closer to the hand that rested near her leg. "But still- we should stop this."

"Yeah. Know what you mean. What would people say?" He twitched his finger out until it just barely touched hers.

"Like you've got any reputation left." Buffy scoffed.

"Like you want to get one." Spike scoffed right back, pretending her fingers weren't creeping onto the back of his hand, like he couldn't feel her warmth starting to rub off on him.

"You know I have one now. Riley's walking around the campus looking like a plastic surgery patient, jaw wired shut, nose all taped up and his cheekbones..."

"Not a patch on mine." Spike grinned.

"Shut up or I'll give you a matching set. You can be twins."

"Jus' dust me, Slayer, before you put me anywhere close to bein' like that bastard." Spike growled vehemently.

"You're actually coming out way ahead of him right now in the decent human being- or- thing- category."

"Bite your tongue, woman."

"Don't say, or you'll do it for me." Buffy punched his arm lightly. "You already used that line."

"A week an' my material's used up. More proof that we shouldn't be here. In the front seat of my car."

"Right." Buffy nodded firmly. She tried to pull her fingertips from the back of his hand, leave the cool skin that reminded her of all the love she wasn't supposed to feel anymore, all the "letting go" she was supposed to do for a certain other cold outside, warm inside man. "Right. We shouldn't be in the front seat of your car." Her voice sounded like it was being forced out, her fingers starting to dig into his hand. Her breathing became erratic. "We should be in the back."

"God, Slayer, you little minx." Spike found himself scrambling out of the car and out of his duster. "You sure?"

Buffy faced him over the roof of the car as she too hopped out, heading for the backseat. "You gonna ask me that every time?"

"'Til you stop doin' the self-doubt thing jus' before we get down to it, yeah, think I will."

"Okay. Okay." Buffy slid into the backseat, lying down, her coat flung over the head rest, shoes kicked to the floor with the litter of old bottles and butts. "I promise. No more self-doubt. If you promise to stop asking."

"Easier said than-"

"I'll hit you if I don't like it." She laughed up at him as his black clad figure prowled into position on top of her, cold enough not to be human, warm enough to offer her comfort she didn't like admitting she wanted.

"Or you could jus' say no. I'll listen to you- when we're doin' this. Only when we're doin' this. The rest of the time I'll do whatever I want, jus' to piss you off." He said with a cocky jerk of his head, popping out his jaw in a sneer.

"I got it, I got it." She rolled her eyes.

"Good. Jus' so we're clear." His hand rested on her hip. "We can get down to it, then?"

"No more asking!"

"That wasn't permission, you daft bint, it was- manners." He admitted with a guilty huff.

"William the Bloody, Spike- has manners?" She asked incredulously.

"I always let the ladies go first, don't I?" He smirked, cocking an eyebrow.

"You do that." Buffy conceded, and slowly snaked her hands between their waists, tugging down his zipper, then her own. "Oooh, someone missed me."

Spike bit his lip in a half-snarl. Curse that telltale organ. He gently pushed a finger inside her silky panties and down neatly between her nether lips, like he was an expert, which if you took into account his years of pleasing Dru, he was.

Buffy cursed her stupid, betraying body for a second, until that slim, strong finger split her and slid inside like the reverse of a hot knife through butter. She was the hot metal, she was melting as he went through her. "Missed me, too, I see." He stated.

She was going to tell him not to flatter himself, but stopped. Of course she missed him- the sex god part and the understanding part, the not having to love him just to enjoy him part. And when that finger start a soft, tantalizing stroke, in and out, deeper and deeper each time- she just moaned and arched for an answer.

"That's right, Luv. 'Cause there's no point if it doesn't make you feel good." He purred in her ear, a silky, dark voice that reminded her he was, or at least had been, a bad, bad man. Strange bedfellow for a good, good girl.

One hand shoved her pants to her knees, and her remaining hand took him hard, pumped him hard, and sheathed him inside her without preamble. "Oh. Ohhh, God, Slayer. Didn't I teach you anything? Foreplay? Time? Don't rush the pleasure?" Spike groaned, head thrown back in sudden ecstasy.

"I usually patrol for a couple more hours, Spike." She breathed, clenching hard around him, letting feeling flood her. Simple, basic, feeling. No strings attached.

"First time fast, next time slow got it." He breathed onto her mouth, not into it. They hadn't quite worked out when they kissed or didn't. 'Cause it was intimate. Kissing slowed it down, made it- affectionate. Affectionate led to him calling her Buffy and a hesitant slip of a whisper brushing his ear. A soft little gasp of "My William" 'cause she knew it was what Dru called him and he missed it so bloody much. Goddamn, it hurt so good...

"Right." She agreed, breathing up to him, eyes wide when they weren't fluttering.

"Bloody hell- you're- tight." He grunted surging his hips forward, lips still just a fraction apart.

"You're big." She grunted back.

"You heal tight, don't you? Slayer package?"

"I don't know. We could test drive that theory- if we could- ever get- out of- this car." She spoke in time to his thrusts.

"You wanna be down an' dirty- we could- get on top- of the hood. But don't you dent it!"

"I really don't want- the neighborhood baddies- or anyone- to see this." She laughed slightly.

"You wanna try the crypt?" He offered after a few moments of earnest pulsing, jaw gritting.

Buffy paused, shuddering slightly at the overload of him, just so strong, not holding back, and not able to hurt her, the very best thing she'd ever felt. "Maybe." She finally managed to say.

"You gotta at least learn to get your pants off first. Hips at a better angle. The young- always in such a bloody hurry."

"I'm sorry- who couldn't wait a couple days to come kill me? Oh wait, I remember, it was you! Rush much?" She glared up at him.

"Well- I'm not- killin' you - now." Spike dug into her harder, with his hands on her sides, and his cock deep inside. "I tell you, Pet, gotta stop confusin' lovers an' fighters."

"You're not my- lover." Buffy let her hands grasp his sides in a frenzy of pre-orgasm pleasure.

"True. Then stop confusin' fightin' with shaggin'." He watched her unblinkingly. "Love this bit of the show..." He whispered more to himself than to her- right before he watched her unravel around him, screaming, clawing, convulsing, milking him until he couldn't help but join her.

I do that, I make Mr. Badass go wild, Buffy thought, watching him suddenly jackhammer against her, his black boots gouging the door, chunks of upholstery cracking off in his hands when he got to the peak. She smiled through her own climax and watched him finally collapse on top of her with a burst of tepid wetness, filling her and overflowing her.

Spike heaved two unneeded breaths and wiped his face against her neck, not because he was sweating but because she was, and he loved to taste her sweet salty skin. "Good?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded, voice high and dazed, sounding like a giggly school girl after her first kiss. Speaking of which- she gave him a lopsided grin and tipped her head back as he adjusted himself on top of her. She pecked his lips as they spread in a smug smile.

"Are you finally ready to slow down?" He arched one eyebrow in mock severity.

"Maybe." She agreed. She shimmied out of her pants and urged him out of his dark denim with little tugs at his hipbones. "Oh, ick. We have to start putting a towel or something under us." She wrinkled her nose at the wetness on her thighs.

"Or, again- crypt." Spike rolled his eyes.

"I've seen your crypt. Dusty, gritty, and dead people."

"First off, you've seen the top floor. Second- you're full of a dead person at the moment, right to your pink pouty hilt, so I'd stop worryin' about that bit. An' lastly- I got a queen sized piece a confectionary, all red silk an' brass bedstead downstairs."

"You have a downstairs?" Buffy sat partway up, head on the arm rest of the car door. "Really?"

"Bugger." Spike muttered. "Forget I said anything."

"It's okay. It- um- it can come under the heading of us not telling anybody about what we're doing." Buffy shrugged. What did it matter if he had a balcony and a two car garage? He wasn't able to hurt anyone and he sure as hell wasn't hurting her at the moment, so it wasn't like his secret bedroom was a big deal.

"Another little secret for the stash?" He relaxed slightly.

"Along with your natural hair color." She deadpanned.

"And yours." He chuckled.

"Except yours isn't really a secret. What do you put on there, straight bleach?" She tentatively stroked his hair. Hmm. Surprisingly soft once he let it get mussed up a little.

"Least I'm makin' no pretense about mine." Spike waggled his tongue in that seductive, almost unholy way. "Whereas you-" he let himself lean into her touch, and then buried his cheek in her soft, soft hair. Softer than Drusilla's, but nowhere near the ebony sheen he loved, "you keep yours a dead secret. How many of us know? Five, countin' yourself?"

"Stop." She sounded genuinely offended, and to her surprise he backed off the teasing immediately. He was right. Spike in a fight and Spike in bed were vastly different entities. "Why'd you do that?" She demanded, slowly sinking back onto the bench seat of the classic car.

"Thought we were makin' jokes." He shrugged, shifting with her.

"Why'd you stop?" She clarified, settling under him fully once again.

"Don't want to get staked, do I, Slayer?" He shook his head at her apparent stupidity.

"You were being nice. Again." She accused.

"Oh, an' you're not?" He countered hotly.

"Well- I'm a good guy." She pouted. "I do nice."

"Apparently, I do nice now, too." He rubbed her stomach in a slow, southerly sweep. " 'Do' bein' the operative word."

"And you've reset to jerk." She sighed dramatically.

"Well, what do you want, Luv? Which do you prefer, Mr. Goodtimes or Mr. Utterly-Cheeky-But Handsome- Bastard?" He cried in exasperation.

"I- I just like- I mean- prefer- how you- I don't know." She trailed off. "Both-ish?"

Spike laughed. "I don't want to make you upset about your bits an' pieces. You're a right honey, Slayer. Now, if we were talkin' about your fightin' skills..."

"Which we're not." Buffy took a deep breath and shivered from being on the leather of the seats, the lukewarm body on top of her. Unthinkingly, Spike held her closer, a faint trace of concern on his face. And hate to admit it though she did, she liked it.

"No, we're not talkin' about fightin' at all." Spike agreed, lids lowering.

"Talking's overrated." She murmured with a pleading edge in her voice.

"Get right to the action, I like that in a girl." Spike let her take his head in her palms and pull him into a searing open mouthed kiss.

"Shhh." She whispered tensely.

"I know." He muttered into her mouth, between the heated kisses. Kisses meant slowing down, letting all the unspoken junk they didn't want to tell anyone about get out of their frustrated systems. "Shhh. I know." He soothed, and their bodies started tangling slowly and insistently together again.

"Is Buffy always this late?" Tara asked softly as she entered Willow's dark dorm room.

"Yeah, she's usually out until after the Bronze closes anyway, looks out for the not-so-aware people who might get bitten." Willow dug in her bureau and pulled out a handful of crystals. "Found 'em. Back to your place?"

"Sure. Unless you think we should wait for her. O-or go find her." Tara didn't want to be selfish with Willow, especially when Buffy probably needed her so badly just now.

"I don't want to crowd her. She- she broke up with Riley, you know. He was a major crap head over the- the incident at the party."

"Has she talked to you at all about what happened?" Tara didn't look at her, didn't feel comfortable, like she was getting too involved in someone's private pain.

"No details. I mean- she and Spike..." Willow blushed and shook her head angrily. "They had sex. A couple times, and she's only ever really said a couple things, that they felt like they had to, that they were both resisting right until they figured out that they were up against something they couldn't fight and beat. He never hurt her. He actually asked her permission- even though he knew she was pretty much - helpless. Wow. Buffy and helpless do not go in the same sentence." Willow said in a voice of un-accepting misery.

"I know. Sh-she must feel so awful. B-because she could have fought anyone else off, and normally Spike couldn't have ever touched her."

"No, he could have touched her that night, because he never tried to hurt her. I'm serious, she's like- violent- about him trying not to hurt her."

"She might be in denial. I'm just worried about her. I know I d-don't have the right, but-"

"Of course you have the right! We're friends! We care and look out and do the whole 'got your back' thing." Willow cried.

"There's a counseling group on campus." Tara murmured, not looking at Willow.

"For- survivors?" She asked timidly.

"If she wants to. Some people don't like to share."

Willow's stomach hurt suddenly with some deep, hard, unknown pain. "Tara?" No. Not my Tara...

"On the other hand- some people don't like to talk about it. In Buffy's case, she might not even consider it a- an attack." The pale blonde stuttered.

"She doesn't- exactly. She told me she's not a victim, just had a weird kind of battle."

"That's okay. It's her right to- to do whatever she needs to, to feel better. As long as she doesn't hurt herself worse."

"Tara- what- what could someone do? If they had a friend they wanted to help, and they didn't know what to say?"

"Just be there. Offer a little comfort sometimes." Tara whispered.

"Okay. Okay. I can do that." Willow wrapped her arm protectively around her friend's shoulders. Tara snuggled right in and Willow sighed. That feels just right. Just so right, she sighed inside as well.

"I'm glad Buffy has someone like you in her life." Tara smiled bashfully.

"She's a good friend. I hope she'll let me comfort her- i-if she needs it. She's always trying to be strong, you know? Slayer stuff. Sometimes I don't even know if I could help that side of her, or if I'm just good for the girl stuff. I don;t know if this one side or the other, or both..." Willow trailed off helplessly. " I mean, who comforts someone who's a superhero?"

Buffy flopped over on her side, head on his shoulder. "Nice."

"Very." They exchanged a look.

"I'm- I'm a disaster." Buffy looked at her sweating body and tangled hair, disheveled top and missing bottoms.

"That's how you know it was good." He grinned.

"In that case, I should look a hell of a lot worse." She grinned back.

Silence hung in the car for a moment.

"It was impressive." Spike tentatively wrapped his arm around her shoulders and watched in shock as she leaned into him more as she nodded her agreement, even though the second round, slower and more passionate, was done.

"Are we finished?" She asked quietly.

"If you'd like." He said casually.

"I should go." But she didn't move.

"Right." He remained motionless.

"It's late."

"For you daylight lovers, yeah."

Another short silence occurred, not uncomfortable, just ended it.

"Spike?"

"What, Luv?"

"Thanks for stopping when you saw me tonight."

"Well, I got what I came for, didn't I?" He rubbed her arm softly, just to show he wasn't making a cheap shot out of it.

"Yep, we both delivered." She understood.

Silence stretched again, no one moving, enjoying the feel of easy, satiated companionship. "You don't have to go. I don't know about you, but I'm starvin'." Spike mentioned nonchalantly.

"Hungry and horny, that's what slaying does to you. At least- what Faith said." Buffy winced at the mention of her enemy's name. "Not that I'm anything like that bitch." She mumbled angrily.

"Hurts doesn't it? That he didn't know?"

"Yeah. It hurt." She admitted quietly.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dru knew exactly what she was doin' with that Chaos Demon this last time. Didn't want me, knew it wasn't me, that time." He muttered bitterly, acid waves of pain churning in a stomach that no longer worked.

"No. No, it doesn't make me feel any better." Buffy sat up suddenly, furiously. "You know, you were faithful to her for over a century! What the hell did she want?"

Spike was comforted by the sentiment but he defended his lovely black swan, always."Hey! She was broken before I ever met her. An' your precious Angel did that."

"He fights every day to atone for his past." Buffy hissed, voice freezing.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure he does." Spike reached for a cigarette. "He loves to feel sorry for himself. He doesn't feel sorry for anyone else, Pet."

"Yes. He. Does." Buffy scratched out each word.

Spike gave up his search for a smoke, the urge suddenly passing him by. "Believe what you want, Luv. It's easier. Hurts less."

Buffy opened her mouth a few times and then stopped and laid back. "Yeah. You're right, it hurts less. It hurts less if you pretend she didn't know who she was with, right? You're the expert on pretending, Spike."

"Watch yourself, Slayer." Spike's eyes flashed. But only for a second before he laid back as well and closed his eyes. "What do you know about love anyway? What's three years of on and off compared to about a hundred and fourteen of constant, continual devotion?" He muttered bitterly.

Spike's eyes flew open when he felt her body lying itself slowly on top of his, her hands on his shoulders. "It's surprisingly still pretty painful." Buffy whispered. "And having your boyfriend say he loves the woman who's wearing your body while you're waiting to get executed by the people who try to run your life? That's pretty painful, too."

"I think no one's winnin' this contest, Slayer. Love's a bitch. Correction- I'm love's bitch." He laughed, a twisted, whining noise in his chest, full of resignation.

"Well- prepare to share your title, Spike." Buffy wiped at her eyes suddenly. "Because I'm right there with you."

"You're a fighter. You'll get through it. You won't get over it, but you'll get through it." He blinked up at the black ceiling and pretended he didn't know why it blurred.

"You're the expert." She laughed wetly. For a moment neither trusted themselves to speak. Again, Buffy mastered her tongue first.

"You know what?"

"Hm?"

"I think I prefer this." She gestured to their intertwined bodies. She smiled up at him, even though it was strained. "It's not painful." Because I don't care enough for it to hurt, I guess.

"Nope. Quite pleasant." 'Course it wasn't painful. Love hurts, not this odds and sods shaggin' an' sympathy exchange. "Very pleasant." He stroked her hair back. "Nice, easy, no strings. Not big ones, anyway."

She jerked her head in one firm nod. "C'mon. Burgers. My treat."

"Then I'll give you another go round, Luv. My treat." Spike agreed with a wink, and they helped each other up.

"Sex and food. It's a good deal."

"Yeah, all things considered." Spike scooted back into his jeans. "Just so long as no one mentions it."

With a smile, Buffy zipped her lips and slung her body into the front seat, ready to go ride into the night with her new- what was he-oh God. Her new - friend?

To be continued...