By Saber ShadowKitten
"Xander," Anya said, exasperated. "Will you put the doll away already."
Xander adjusted Annie, the half-human shaped CPR doll, on the couch beside him and put his arm around "her" shoulders. "Jealous?" he said. Anya gave him a look, to which he grinned goofily.
"I'm surprised the doll didn't explode when Spike lit up," Buffy said. She looked between Xander and Oz. "There is probably enough alcohol fumes in her to equal a grenade-type boom."
Spike shifted his feet, which were propped on top of the coffee table. He was still seated on the couch, Angel on one side of him, Cordelia on the other. Buffy had taken his place on the floor and was laying on her stomach, her chin propped up by her palm. The other two couples returned to the same places n the second couch after the "refresher course" had ended.
"Time for another question," Willow said.
The men exchanged looks, and Angel stood and headed for the bar. He returned a moment later with four beers and passed them out before retaking his seat. Not a single one of them said a word.
"Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be a fun question?" Buffy commented.
"Who do you trust least in this room and why?" Willow read.
"Am I psychic or what?" Buffy said unhappily. She stood and moved to the bar.
"Get me something, Buffy," Cordelia requested.
"Anyone else?" Buffy asked, retrieving two long-necks that Xander had brought.
"I'll take a beer," Anya said.
"Nothing for me," Willow replied. She picked up her pen and began writing in the binder, as Buffy returned. "Remember, if you don't want to answer, say so."
"I have no trouble answering," Xander said. He pointed at Angel. "Everyone knows I trust Deadboy as far as I can throw him."
"Don't forget to say why," Willow said in a stage whisper.
"Why? Because the guy is your friend one minute then bam!" Xander said loudly. "He's trying to kill you."
"That only happened once, Xander," Buffy said.
Xander shook his head. "Three times. And two of them he had his soul."
"When was this?" Angel asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember.
"You were going to feed me to Spike," Xander replied, holding up a finger. He lifted a second. "And the night we found out Faith was batting for the other team."
Spike turned his head and looked up at Angel. "You tried to feed that git to me? Were you trying to kill me, too?"
Anya giggled and earned a glare from Xander. "What? It's funny."
"What about you, missy?" Xander asked her. "Who do you trust least here?"
"Oz," Anya answered without hesitation.
Oz arched his brow in surprise. "Ok."
"Why don't you trust my boyfriend?" Willow said, glaring daggers at the former demoness.
"Because he is male and is the one capable of causing the most hurt," Anya replied. She gestured to Angel and Spike. "Angel won't let himself get too close to anyone, Spike is a pure demon, so he cares for nothing but himself, and Xander knows he'd better not do anything wrong. You love Oz completely and he would cause the most devastation if he turns on you."
"Oh," Willow said. "I guess then my not trusting you the most because I believe that if you get your powers back, you'll turn us into chopped liver bits seems kinda...petty."
"But it isn't unfounded," Anya told her with a small, wicked smile.
"Hey! I think I was insulted!" Spike suddenly exclaimed. The others stared at him a second, then started to laugh. He frowned and scrunched down further into the couch, muttering insults about everyone to himself.
"How about you, Oz?" Anya said. "Who do you trust least?"
"Xander," Oz replied. "Sorry, man, but you have the power to hurt my Willow the most."
"No offense taken," Xander told him. He raised his beer to his lips and drank steadily.
"Well, I don't trust Willow," Cordelia stated. "And not just because she's a skinny little, goody-two-shoes and a boyfriend-stealing tramp, who still has the fashion sense of a water-buffalo."
"Why don't you tell us what your really think, Cordy," Xander said.
"Well, she's a pretty powerful witch," Cordelia said. "She could turn us all into something really gross. She could not tell us something important from her research because she's PMSing and get us all killed. And she's got the whole 'I'm a helpless girly, come save me' thing going for her, which sucks for the rest of us who'd like to be rescued, too."
"Um, it was a rhetorical question," Xander whispered loudly.
"Don't worry, Lia," Angel said, looking at the brunette over the top of Spike's head. "I'll rescue you when the time comes."
"You're going to need the rescuing if you call me 'Lia' again," Cordelia told him. He gave her a half-grin and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm not kidding."
"I don't trust Angelus," Spike announced with a firm nod of his head.
When he didn't continued, Angel said, "Care to tell me why?"
"Because you-" Spike sat up slightly, turned and put his finger on the center of Angel's chest above his heart. "-continuously tear out my heart and smash it into the floor beneath your bloody boot heel, you friggin' pillock."
"Bitter much?" Cordelia commented.
"Like you can talk," Buffy pointed out.
"Defending your new boy toy, Buffy?" Cordelia said.
Angel lifted Spike's hand from his chest and kissed the tip of his childe's finger. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Spike ground his teeth together and nodded, accepting the apology.
"Eat me, Cordelia," Buffy spat.
"And catch some disease? No thanks," Cordelia said cruelly.
"This coming from the backseat whore?" Buffy retorted.
"Ok, guys," Xander said. "Moving on now."
"I don't trust Cordelia," Buffy said, still glaring at the brunette. Cordelia snorted.
"Buffy, just because you're not happy with her-" Willow began.
"I don't trust her with Angel," Buffy interrupted. She stood and walked over to the bar, putting her beer down on the counter.
Both Spike and Angel's eyes shot to Buffy at her statement. They watched as she poured a shot of Goldschlagger and quickly downed it. She then met Angel's questioning brown gaze. "She could make you happy, too. Hell, she already is."
"Slayer, you're jealous," Spike said, felling jealous himself. She still wanted his sire, which meant she'd never turn her attention on him.
Well, that put him in his place. Spike pursed his lips and stood. He walked over to the stairs and took a seat on the third step, tilted his beer to his lips and drank half of it. Then he pressed the sweating bottle to his forehead and closed his eyes.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room, punctuated only by the shot glass being set down on the bar three times. Willow's quiet voice split the air like a knife. "Angel? You're the only one left."
"I trust all of you," Angel said, his voice quiet, as well. "It's myself I trust the least." He gave everyone a wry smile. "And I'm going to exercise my right to not say anything more."
They took another break, a longer one this time. The alcohol began to flow freely, the ladies quickly catching up to the men in terms of intoxication. They came and went out of the basement with their drinks, taking the time to unwind after the last question.
Spike was sitting sideways on the stairs going up to his bedroom. He was smoking a cigarette, using an empty amber beer bottle to collect the ashes. He could hear Xander and Anya talking softly in the small sitting area, but he ignored them.
"Hi." Spike turned his head and saw Buffy standing outside the door to the stairs. "Mind if I sit?" she asked.
He gestured for her to go ahead and she sat down a step below him, her back against the opposite wall so she could face him. She took a sip of the beer she had in her hand, then let the bottle dangle loosely from her fingers.
"It's pretty funny," she said without preamble. She gave him a half-smile. "Not a single person said they trusted you the least. Dumb, huh?"
"Incredibly," Spike agreed with a small snort of derision. "It will make the time when I kill all of you that much sweeter."
"Just promise to off me first," Buffy said. She paused, then added, "And if you can do it while we're having sex, that would be nice."
Spike froze with the cigarette halfway to his lips and stared at her in shock. He didn't snap out of it until she giggled softly. He blinked rapidly and took a long drag. "I'll, er, keep that in mind," he told her.
"Would you like to kill me now?"
The cigarette fell from his hand to his lap and he jumped with a very unmanly squeak. She started laughing, as he grabbed the cigarette and dropped it into the empty bottle. He glared at her. "It's not funny."
"It is from this side," she said, still laughing.
Spike ran his hand through his hair. "Cor, if you weren't laughing, I'd swear you were hitting on me, Slayer."
"This is hitting on you," Buffy said, socking him lightly on the leg. "I was trying to get you to screw me silly."
"Oh," Spike said, dumbfounded. The alcohol in his brain was delaying his reaction to what she had spelled out to him. It was also making his tongue loose. "That's what I gave you the soddin' key for."
Buffy pulled a string that was around her neck and he watched as a silver key slowly appeared from between her breasts. "You mean this key?"
Spike's eyes were still glued to the creamy skin exposed above her shirt. "Uh-huh," he mumbled intelligently.
"So, this key not only unlocks your front door, it unlocks your jeans?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," he agreed. Then his mind caught up with what she was inferring and his eyes shot to hers. "You want to shag with me?"
Spike narrowed his eyes at her. "I bet you just want to do it because of Cordelia and the poof."
"At least you're honest," he said. He stood. "It's wrong that you only want to use me...," he trailed off, then shrugged. "Who am I kidding? I could care less. C'mon, Slayer, let's get shagging."
Buffy grinned up at him and stood. He led her up the stairs to his room and turned on a free-standing lamp around the corner on the others side of an old desk with a laptop sitting on it. A soft, pinkish glow illuminated the king-sized bed set in the corner on the far left wall of the large bedroom, with a night-stand on either side. A low dresser ran along the same wall as the bed, then two chests of drawers lined the connecting wall.
A single door sat in the right corner of the wall that ran from the stairwell and, when Buffy went through it, she found herself in the biggest bathroom she'd ever seen. It had a sunken whirlpool tub, huge shower stall, dual sinks, a separate water closet, and a door that led into a walk-in closet that was bigger than her bedroom at her home.
She returned to the bedroom and set her drink down on the waist-high dresser. "Nice," she commented.
"Nicer," Spike stated, half-a-beat before he grabbed her and smashed his lips to hers.
He ravished her mouth, plunging his tongue between her teeth. He engaged in a furious battle with her own tongue, tasting the alcohol she'd consumed, the sweet taste of licorice mixing with the bitter taste of barley.
He broke away and violently yanked her shirt over her head, bra and all. He practically bent her backwards over the arm he wrapped around her waist, as he descended upon her breast, puling the pebble-like nipple into his mouth. She moaned and grabbed the back of his head, holding him to her, as he suckled her tit like a babe. He moved on to her other breast, licking down the heavy globe to the valley between them before rising up the other side and tugging that nipple into his mouth.
When she whimpered, he swept back up to her lips, capturing her mouth in another savage kiss. He held her tightly against him, his one arm encircling her waist, his other hand cupping her rear. He ground his erection against her pelvis, letting her know how much she affected him.
Breaking away from her again, he took her wrist and led her over to the bed, then pushed her down upon it. Dropping to his knees, he pulled off her shoes and tossed them carelessly over his shoulder. Her pants soon followed suit, as well as her panties.
He draped both her legs over his shoulders and yanked her hips towards the edge of the bed. Her dark curls and the aroma of her arousal greeted him and he growled. A second later, he buried his face in her sex, licking and sucking her extended clit. His fingers found her wet entry and pushed inside, stretching her, preparing her, pleasuring her.
Her thighs clamped against his head and she began thrusting her hips up and down against his mouth. She was moaning and whimpering and babbling incoherently, as she came closer to the edge. Her fingers dug into his scalp as she rode his face.
She climaxed without a sound, her body arching upwards for a moment before she sat up straight and held his head tight against her pussy with her hands and legs. If he still needed to breathe, he would have been asphyxiated.
She fell limply back onto the bed afterwards, her arms falling to her sides, her thighs dropping open. Spike sank back on his heels and wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. He grinned at the large wet spot it left. Without hesitation, he pulled the shirt off and dropped it beside him as he stood. His jeans were partially down when her legs shot out and wrapped around his waist. She used her enhanced strength to tug him forward and he fell on top of her.
"Someone's taking too long," Buffy murmured, then nipped at his neck with her blunt teeth.
Spike hissed and dropped his head to the side, kicking his legs until the jeans slid off. His rock hard shaft was pressed against her abdomen and her curls tickled in an erotic manner. She continued to nibble and lick his neck, which sent uncontrollable shivers down his spine. He shifted his weight back onto his feet and dipped his hand between their bodies to position himself at her slick entry.
With one quick thrust, he was enveloped in her heat. His eyes rolled up, his lids fluttered, and he let out a deep growl of pleasure. Slowly, he began thrusting, pulling almost all the way out of her before sliding back in as far as he could.
His lips sought hers again and their tongues fought a silent war, as he increased the tempo of his thrusts. Soon, he was pounding frantically into her, one arm looped under her knee, holding it up near her shoulder. His mouth had left hers to growl near her ear.
Suddenly, she cried out, her vaginal walls clenching around him as she climaxed. He flew after her within a few, short thrusts. He buried himself in her, his shaft pulsing, as he spilled his cold semen into her hot depths.
He collapsed upon her, unconsciously nuzzling her neck, breathing heavily despite his lack of needing the oxygen. His tongue darted out to lick her salty skin. He was content to stay right where he was for a very long time.
"One word of advice, my boy, lose the socks."
Spike froze and he felt Buffy tense up under him. "Shit," he cursed, a feeling of dread descending over him.
"Spike, go get cleaned up," Angel ordered.
Spike raised his head and gazed down at Buffy. The emotions in her eyes were inscrutable, and he didn't know if he should listen to his sire or not.
"Now, Spike," Angel said sternly.
"Go," Buffy whispered to him. She lifted her head and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. Then she smiled at him in reassurance.
Spike moved off of her, turned and glared at Angel. The dark-haired vampire was leaning against a dresser, his arms folded across his chest. His face revealed nothing.
Bending, Spike snatched his jeans off the floor, then headed for the bathroom. Once there, however, he did not close the door completely. He waited and listened, prepared to act if need be.
He heard a gasp and a low moan of pleasure. Blinking in surprise, he looked out through the crack and saw Angel's head between Buffy's thighs the same way his had been earlier. He could only stand there and watch as his sire pleasured her, growing aroused again. When she came for the third time, he inhaled sharply in excitement, his hard cock jumping and brushing against the jeans he held in front of him.
Angel turned his head and his brown eyes pierced Spike's blue ones. The blond vampire quickly back-peddled and shut the door. "Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger," he muttered to himself, as he moved to wash up; for he had a bad feeling that was exactly what was going to happen to him.
However, he didn't know that while he was in the bathroom, Buffy and Angel were talking about him.
"I'm sorry, Angel," Buffy said, holding the shirt he'd given her in front of her body. "It's just-"
"It's ok, Buffy," Angel told her. "As much as I'd love to be the one pounding you into that mattress until you pass out from the pleasure, I can't. Sex does not equate with happiness except when it's me with you. You have this way of making me feel...human." He gave her a small smile. "You have a way of making me forget."
"Then why did you...," she trailed off and blushed heavily.
"I was hungry," he replied with a shrug. At her look, he chuckled. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. The joke or your sweet honey mixed with Spike's saltiness."
"I think Cordelia corrupted you," Buffy muttered.
"Absolutely," Angel agreed. "Plus, I'm a wee bit on the snookered side."
"So, uh, what are you going to do about Spike?" she asked tentatively. Angel grinned wolfishly. Buffy shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
"Just be careful with him, Buffy," Angel told her seriously. "Spike has a big heart, despite his being a vampire. You could easily hurt him."
Buffy stared at him in amazement. "Wow. And here I thought you were warning me to be careful so that I don't get hurt."
Angel reached out and caressed her cheek. "I know that you can take care of yourself. Him, not a chance. Since he's gone good, he's let down his defenses and turned back into the big old softie he was when I first turned him. It took me almost ten years to make him into a proper 'bad guy' and he still followed me around like a puppy with big, adoring, blue eyes. Then Drusilla joined us, he fell hard for her and followed her around like a puppy."
Angel stepped back from her and gave her a tender smile. "You'd better clean up. Willow wants to start again, much to my obvious excitement," he said sarcastically. He headed for the stairwell, then paused. "And next time, make sure you close the door first when there are others in the house...unless you want to have an audience, that is."
Buffy was beet red when she knocked on the bathroom door. Spike opened it, clad in his jeans and socks, and she gave him a half-smile. "I need to get cleaned up," she told him.
Spike nodded and stepped back from the door, allowing her to pass. "Why don't you hop in the shower, luv?" he suggested, opening a cabinet and taking out a dark green towel. His gaze dropped down to her backside and his lips curled up when he saw her tattoo.
Buffy looked over her shoulder and caught him. "Stop looking at my butt," she mock scolded.
"But it's so bloody adorable," he said, reaching out to smack her lightly. "Especially the tat."
She shook her head and walked over to the shower to turn it on, dropping her shirt on the sink as she walked past it. She stopped with her hand on the hot water faucet, turned and looked at him. Her eyes widened. "Oh my god, you have one, too!"
"Have one what?" Spike asked, confused. His lack of grasping her meaning wasn't helped with the fact that he was horny again, she was facing him and she was quite naked. Her breasts swayed when she gestured and he felt like he was going to expire on the spot.
She walked back over to him and he gulped. When her fingers brushed his abdomen, his body quivered, as if he'd gotten an electrical shock. His gaze dropped down to her fingers and he saw that they were running along his tattoo. "Oh. Er, right. That," he said, now uncomfortable for a totally different reason.
Buffy lifted his left arm up and followed the tattoo around his body. "What in the world possessed you to get something so...cute?"
"Shut up," Spike growled, dropping his arm. "Go take your bloody shower before I take you on the floor."
He jumped and spun around when she squeezed his ass, and she grinned mischievously up at him. "On the floor, huh?" she asked. She turned and dropped down to her hands and knees on the maroon throw rug, then wiggled her tattooed behind at him. The twin devils, a taller one standing behind a shorter one, each had a halo above their head. The taller one's was on straight. The shorter one's was lopsided. "Well?"
Spike had his jeans shoved down and was inside of her in an instant. He grabbed her hips tightly with his hands, slamming into her hard. Buffy groaned loudly, the sound echoing in the tiled bathroom. One of his hands slid down around her body to manipulate her clit and her groan turned to mewls of pleasure. He came first, shooting his dead seed deep inside of her, as he snarled uncontrollably. She followed shortly thereafter, her inner walls clamping around him.
He pulled out of her and dropped back on his heels, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed her tattooed ass-cheek. "One of these days, Slayer, you'll have to tell me the story behind this," he said.
"Maybe," Buffy mumbled. She slowly stood and meandered to the shower. She paused and looked back at him, still sitting on the floor. "Are you coming?"
"Again?" Spike gasped mocking. He stood and removed his jeans and socks.
"Funny," Buffy said, deadpan. "You're a regular riot."
He followed her into the shower and turned on the water. When he faced her, she looked at his tattoo with a smirk on her lips. "Will you quit that?!" he growled at her.
"But it's so...so...flowery," Buffy said with a giggle. "Ooh, how scary."
"I was bloody plastered, alright?" Spike snapped. "And if you hadn't made me watch that soddin' video-"
"You liked it," Buffy pointed out, soaping herself up under one of the multiple sprays. "You cried."
"Want me to ask Willow?"
"No," Spike said, pouting. He turned away from her and washed himself off.
"I like the dragonfly on the back," Buffy said. "It's a nice touch."
"Sod off," he told her. "You're just making fun."