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Author's Chapter Notes:
eventually dark, angsty, underage sex, increasing levels of kink, and utterly unrealistic demands on Spike’s stamina :) it will * remain consensual *. I’ll try to mark any special kink warnings on a chapter-by-chapter basis.

beta'd by the lovely goddessofmercy

I almost fell into that hole in your life,
You weren’t thinking bout tomorrow,
Cause you were the same as me,
But on your knees…
--Goo Goo Dolls' Black Balloon
~*~*~*~

Buffy thought about Spike all weekend. More than she should, really, considering he was probably spending the whole weekend screwing his ho-bag of a wife. God, she shouldn’t think like that. Mrs. Turner had been nothing but kind to her. Had given her husband permission to fuck her, for God’s sake. The whole thing still gave her the major wiggins.

“Buffy?” her mom called, knocking on her door.

“Come in, Mom.” Her mother pushed the door open and leaned on the doorframe.

“Buffy, I just got a phone call from Mr. Turner.”

Buffy’s blood ran cold. Why would he be calling her mother?

“It seems that he and his wife talked it over and since he has to come pick you up and drop you off every day, they thought it might be a better arrangement for you to just live in one of their guest rooms during the week. Kind of like a live-in nanny. On the weekends, you’d come back here, of course, to give them their privacy and give you a rest. How does that sound?”

Buffy was staring blankly at her mother, trying to understand what had just happened. Spike had asked her mother if Buffy could move in with them? What did that mean?

“Honey, I didn’t commit you to it yet, if you’re upset. I told him we’d talk about it, and he said if you or I weren’t comfortable with that he’d continue to drive you.”

Buffy’s brain kicked into gear. “No! No, that sounds fine. They have like a pool and stuff. Without an apartment complex full of kids to pee in it…which is definitely of the good.”

“See, I figured you might like it there, since you’re always complaining how much you hate this apartment. Mr. Turner said that if you agreed to the arrangement, to bring an overnight bag tomorrow morning and they could collect any other things you wanted later in the week. But remember, leave some of your things here, for the weekends.”

~*~*~*~

On Monday, Spike picked Buffy up as usual. She was nervous as hell. She still wasn’t sure what the arrangement meant. Should she take it at face value or was it for the reasons she suspected? Buffy didn’t know if they were a one-time thing or not, and she didn’t want to hope for more than was being offered.

Though secretly, she already did.

Spike eyed the overfull bag on Buffy’s lap. “So you’re movin’ in with us then?” She studied him and nodded, relieved when he threw back a wicked grin. “Excellent.”

Spike saw the girl relax when she understood a bit better where she stood with him. Bugger, like he was going to let it go at one time after the staggering demonstration of their compatibility on the sofa last week.

Dru had studied him on Friday night as she got ready for bed. “You opened your prezzie today, naughty boy,” she’d tittered. Whatever you could say about his Dru, she knew him like no one else. Always could read him in a look. Spike could hide little from her.

Spike had grinned at her, unrepentant. “Best present of that sort you’ve ever given me, Dru. Should have seen, she was amazing.”

Dru smiled a wicked little smile. “She’ll keep my prince entertained for months. Summer season will be busy this year, and I didn’t want my boy to feel neglected.”

“Thanks, pet.”

“My sweet William…” She had gasped with a sudden whim and pounced on the bed next to him, clapping. “We should ask her to move in and keep you company.”

So that’s how he’d ended up on the phone with Buffy’s mother (don’t think about that one too hard, mate) extending the invitation that her daughter move in with he and his wife. Understandably, he’d left out the part about all the shagging.

Spike showed Buffy to the guest room meant to be hers during the week. It was across the hall from Jackson’s room and down the hall from the master bedroom. The room was nice, sort of feminine, with its own full bathroom. All in all, it was pretty plush. He and Dru tended to spend a lot of money on the house because they both liked nice things and he spent nearly all his time at home. Not like they couldn’t afford it.

Spike left Buffy to settle in and see to the baby for the better part of the morning and afternoon as he worked in his home office. He was wrapping up this latest book, and he sent the publisher the last part of the manuscript with immense satisfaction. Spike stretched and padded off to find Buffy at three in the afternoon.

He found her curled up in her new bed, reading one of his books, which he found mildly amusing. He’d thought they were done with that, although he supposed he had promised to autograph some for her.

“Hey, pet,” Spike said quietly, so as not to startle her. She looked up and smiled. “Jackson down for a nap?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. They’d bought an extra baby monitor speaker for her room so she could feel better about relaxing while the boy was out cold. Though relaxing wasn’t entirely what Spike had in mind, if he was feeling honest.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, turned sideways towards Buffy, and moistened his lips unconsciously. “Thought about you all weekend, you know.”

“Really?” she asked, clearly pleased. She kneeled up next to him to give him a sweet, almost chaste kiss.

“Really,” he confirmed.

Buffy smiled at him a little coyly. She looked good enough to eat. “What did you think about?”

He grinned, halfway between wicked and foolish. “C’mere and I’ll show you.” He scooted up to lean back against the headboard. Propped comfortably against the pillows, his legs stretched before him, he gestured for her and she climbed eagerly into his lap, straddling his hips.

The kisses started happy and light, with an element of levity. Spike’s hands roamed lightly over her body, and she began to shift her hips lightly back and forth over his own, seeking pressure as she grew more aroused and the kisses grew more purposeful. Soon Buffy was dry-humping him in earnest, whimpering as the rhythmic back and forth slide of her body caused the head of his erect cock to rub repeatedly against her clit through his sweatpants. He released her lips and lay his head back, groaning as he watched Buffy bite her lip with closed eyes, practically using him as a tool for her own masturbation. Actually that gave him an idea….for later, but first…

“Pet,” he inquired, and she stopped moving. “Have you ever given a blowjob?” He stroked a hand over her hair to soften the perfunctoral question.

She nodded at him with clear green eyes. “Sure, lots of times.” Spike held back a groan. God bless the younger generation. Said looking wholesome as any youth might, in shorts and a t-shirt, hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail.

He ran a thumb over her lower lip and dipped it inside, actually groaning when she sucked it in to the knuckle. “Oh, Buffy, all weekend I imagined this sweet mouth stretched around my cock. Need it, pet. Need you.”

Buffy beamed at him, looking so pleased at that. She slipped his sweats down over his hips, leaving the black wifebeater on, but before she could dip her head, he gently grabbed her chin. “Are you wearing a bra?” She nodded. “Strip down to your skivvies.”

And somehow that made her blush where her admission of familiarity with fellatio had not, but she complied and he found that beneath the sedate attire she wore a very sexy black bra and panty set. He’d hazard a guess that she hadn’t wanted to look as though she were trying to impress him in case of rejection, but had planned ahead in the event that he still wanted her. Dru assured him girls thought about things like that. Buffy was stunning, kneeling there in her lingerie with her hands on her knees, a position which unwittingly pressed her breasts together and up. He trailed a finger over the resulting plush cleavage.

“Bloody hell, luv, you’ve got me so hard. ‘M gonna explode.” Buffy gazed at him warmly, cheeks glowing a little with the compliment. Then she crawled between his thighs, took him in hand, and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth.

“Aahhh, God Buffy, that’s good,” he breathed, watching her cheeks cave as she applied suction, swirled her tongue and then dipped it into his slit. He lifted his hand and wrapped it loosely around her ponytail, nudging subtly and she instantly responded, sliding more of his length into that wet suction. Spike banged his head back against the headboard a little.

“God, kitten, that’s so good. Your mouth…such a good girl, you are….” He babbled continuously, mindlessly. Her pretty pink mouth was stretched tight around his girth, just as he’d imagined, and she was bobbing on the top half of his cock, the head rhythmically poking against the inside of her cheek. Spike wasn’t sure what was more incredible, the feeling of her mouth around him or the sight of her, bobbing farther and farther down, so fresh-faced and sweet. Buffy’s eyes locked on his. She reached down with a manicured hand to roll and tug at his heavy balls and his babbling accelerated.

That’s when Buffy shocked the hell out of him by opening up her throat, and swallowing him all the way down, the soft wet tissue of her throat undulating rapidly around the head of his cock. Spike curled his fingers into her hair, coming with a strangled cry of utter nonsense and a buck of his hips. She backed off a bit, swallowed all of his cum, and then sat up, dabbing at her mouth as delicately as though she’d just finished a meal at an expensive restaurant.

Bloody. Hell. She had done this a lot.

“Kitten, that was…” he lost all words. “Fantastic. Really.” She smiled with her eyes averted, shy but clearly pleased he’d enjoyed it. “C’mere,” Spike tugged at her arm and pulled her into his lap for a kiss. She melted against him, and for a moment, he almost forgot the rest of what he was about, nearly just fell asleep with her curled around him. But that was no way to reward the girl for a fantastic suck job, was it?

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Lay back on the pillow, pet,” he instructed. As she shifted her weight off of him, Spike leaned across to rummage in the bedside table. He pulled out a largish purple jelly vibrator, and Buffy stared at it with raised eyebrows.

“Wow, that’s uh…I mean, do we need one of those when we—you—already have…the real thing?”

Spike chuckled. “Trust me, Goldilocks, you’ll thank me. This one’s ‘just right.’” He laughed again when she rolled her eyes. But at least she had relaxed.

Kneeling between Buffy’s legs, he adjusted them so that her knees were bent, feet flat on the mattress a good distance apart. He twisted the dial on the toy to a low setting and ran it over her damp black panties. They were insubstantial lace, and she jumped, making a little surprised noise at the sensation. He continued sliding the vibrating tip along her sensitive skin, concentrating especially on her clit through the lace, until she was breathing hard with her eyes closed. Buffy had let her legs fall to the side, so she was wide open.

Spike put the toy aside for a moment to slip her panties off of her body and ease her legs back to their previous position. He ran the vibrating toy over her slit, slicking it with her natural lubricant, and began rubbing it around and over her clit, listening to her restless little throaty noises.

Spike put her hand on the toy and Buffy began guiding it without him. He sat back and watched her masturbate herself externally with the toy. She was gorgeous and flushed, discovering herself.

After a time, Spike leaned forward and twisted the dial, intensifying the vibrations. “Ohhhh,” she breathed, and began undulating her hips against the stimulation. To his mild surprise, he found himself breathing faster and starting to harden. His recoup time had never been quite this good.

He turned the dial even farther and took control of the toy. Buffy opened her eyes, gazing down at him fuzzily. “Spike…” He slid the toy into her pussy and she cried out from the sensation of Spike pumping it rapidly in and out, angled to stimulate her clit on the outstroke.

“Oh god, Spike…aahh…that’s amazing…I just need….”

“Here, luv,” Spike rasped as he placed her hand on the wand. He sat back to lazily stroke his semi-erection and watched with hot eyes as she brought herself off, whining and shuddering against the toy. Buffy was beautiful like this, her orgasm still so new to her that she looked shocked and a little rattled as it seized her. He loved that he had showed her that, had taught her that she could bring herself that kind of pleasure.

When she finally lay quiet, still and drifting in her own afterglow, Spike took the vibrator, cleaned it off and put it away. Then, grinning, he crawled on top of her, settling his weight comfortably as she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“Now that wasn’t too ‘weird,’ was it?” he teased. She laughed and shook her head no, glowing at him. And they drifted contentedly.

~*~*~*~

“Thermal strips,” Buffy snorted at the sci-fi flick on the big screen. “How the hell are a couple of little white straps of cloth supposed to keep her warm? Wardrobe was clearly designed with the perving in mind.”

Spike smirked at her. “I know this pervert enjoys it thoroughly.” He made it clear that he was not looking at the supreme being in the movie so much as the girl, wearing his shirt and little else, curled around a carton of Chinese food on his living room floor. She pinkened.

Buffy heard the front door swick closed and she cringed, pulling the t-shirt over her bare legs just in time for Dru to enter the living room. The businesswoman walked over to Spike and kissed him hello lingeringly. Buffy’s face was on fire. Sure, Dru knew what was going on, but it felt wrong for Buffy to be sitting there in her post-sex hair while Spike welcomed his wife home. Buffy felt exposed and jealous, and if it wouldn’t have reeked of pouty teenager, she would have run up to her bedroom and locked herself in.

Dru slipped out of her pumps and settled onto the couch, tucking her hosiery-covered feet beneath her and curling against Spike’s side. She petted his torso with one manicured hand as she turned to Buffy.

“Hello, Buffy, how was your first day? Did my Spike take care of you properly?” The thinly veiled suggestiveness made Buffy turn a darker shade of red. Dru looked endlessly amused by Buffy’s mortification as she realized that Dru knew exactly how her first day living with them had gone. God! Could she live here knowing that Spike’s wife knew everything? She wondered, morbidly, if Spike told Dru the details of everything they did sexually.

Buffy decided to answer the question at face value. “Um…it was alright.” Drucilla threw back her head and laughed with abandon at that response. Buffy wanted to crawl in a hole and die. God, could her life get any more awkward?

Spike gave Buffy a sympathetic look and changed the subject with Dru. “Princess, are you hungry? Fancy some takeout?”

“Mmmm…” Dru seized Spike’s ear between her teeth and slid her hand dangerously low on his stomach. Buffy felt sick when his eyes rolled closed and his breath hitched. “Starving, my dark prince. But not for takeout.” Dru jumped off the couch and pulled Spike up the stairs. Neither of them gave Buffy a backwards glance.

My dark prince. Gag. Buffy felt truly and genuinely sick. She set aside her carton of noodles and turned up the volume on the conversation between Bruce Willis and that orange-haired chick.

After the movie was over, Buffy put in another and fell asleep in front of the television. Her room wasn’t right next to theirs but still. She’d rather be safe than sorry. The last thing she wanted to overhear was that rough voice responding to someone else. Someone that he loved.

~*~*~*~

The whole next day, Buffy avoided Spike. She woke up on the floor that morning as Dru moved around getting ready for work, and scurried upstairs before she had to speak to the brunette. It was easy enough to avoid Spike as well, but by late afternoon as she put Jackson down for his nap, the need to see him was itching over her skin. To see Spike, and make him want her.

Buffy leaned against the doorframe of his office for a moment, watching him. Spike was bent forward on the edge of his big office chair, in jeans, barefoot and bare-chested. He concentrated on whatever it was he was writing, longhand, while his desktop sat neglected on the other arm of the desk. Spike was wearing a small pair of wire-frame glasses, which geeked up his bad-boy look in a way that she found endearing.

“Watcha doin’,” she chirped, and he looked up, pen poised. Spike smiled and lay his pen and spectacles on the paper in front of him.

“Hey, pet. Answering some fan mail. Too much to answer every letter, but my publisher sends me the most interesting ones…I try to answer some by hand, so they know it’s really me.”

She was a little surprised. “Most authors as famous as you don’t answer letters by hand, do they?”

Spike smirked at her and lifted a brow in a highly self-satisfied manner. “Should know by now, luv, I’m not most people,” he rumbled.

“I guess that’s true enough,” Buffy teased. She sauntered into the room and stopped in front of Spike as he rocked his chair back and forth idly with one foot. Buffy pushed him slouching back against the chair, and climbed to kneel above him, her shins braced outside his legs. The office chair was really more like a Lazy Boy, large and wide and black leather. Spike demanded comfort in all his things.

His hands were rough on her bare hips. Buffy was still only wearing his t-shirt. She had, in fact, changed back into it and removed her underwear before coming out to see him. She knew that from his angle, he could see her laid bare beneath the hem, and his eyes lingered there before he looked up, breathing heavily. Spike began to rhythmically squeeze her hips, deep blue eyes searching up into hers. Buffy rubbed a hand over the erection in his jeans, and he shuddered and closed his eyes.

She unbuttoned the jeans and pulled them down a ways. Buffy gave his cock a few bare strokes as his hands roamed up under her shirt, then she positioned herself and slid right down around him, humming in approval as he filled her. Spike’s hands flexed.

“Christ, pet, you’re wet…so ready for me and I didn’t even touch you,” Spike muttered in wonder, thrusting up to meet her. Buffy stilled when she was fully seated on him, and he rent open his eyes to watch her. Spike peeled her shirt over her head and once again, she was naked and he was clothed. She’d have to make sure this trend didn’t continue, but right now, Buffy honestly didn’t care.

She ground her pelvis against his once and made an involuntary sound at how good subtle shifting of his cock felt inside her. Spike was still watching her, expelling his breath in little puffs, and slid one hand up her torso to cup her breast, twisting her nipple between his ink-smudged fingers.

Buffy closed her eyes and bit her lip as she began to grind herself against him repeatedly, leaning forward and bracing her hands on the arms of the chair for better leverage. Spike moaned and she felt his abs tighten against her as he leaned up and took a nipple in his mouth. Then Spike palmed her ass roughly with both hands, taking over the rocking rhythm of her body.

His head fell back on the seat, panting as he forced her body faster. “Ohh, God pet, feels so bloody good. You’re so tight,” he groaned. Suddenly Spike grasped her hips and pulled them off of his a bit, holding them in place as he began to pump rapidly up into her. Buffy braced herself harder against the armrests. She was bouncing with the impact, emitting high-pitched cries each time his body slammed up into hers. Spike’s head was arched against the backrest, his mouth open and eyes half shut, his slick bare torso flexing with the effort. He saw her roaming, appreciative eyes and grinned smugly through his concentration, tongue pressing from behind his teeth teasingly. God, he was hot and overpowering, even in his prone position—and wasn’t she supposed to be the one in control in this position?

As if prompted by her thoughts, Spike surged to his feet without warning and lifted her off of him. Without a word, he slid the notepad with his glasses and ballpoint to the side, turned her and pushed her down over the desk, kicking off his jeans. Buffy’s palms were braced flat on either side of her head and he pinned her with one hand between her shoulder blades, the other on her hip. He bent his knees slightly and entered her from behind in one thrust, groaning “Ohhh, good girl…” and resumed his harsh rhythm. Buffy just hung on and babbled incoherent little praises of approval in her mind.

Spike draped his upper body over her back and she moaned approval at the change of angle. He wrapped one muscular forearm around her hips (the proper position for a seatbelt, she thought incoherently) and began rubbing her clit with the other. Buffy pushed herself off the desk a little and worked herself back against him, their coupling rough. When he closed his teeth loosely over the soft slope of her shoulder, Buffy thought, ‘this is so Animal Planet,’ and then Spike was coming in a warm rush and she realized dimly that he wasn’t wearing a condom. But then his finger circled her clit twice more and the world fell apart around her.

When it reassembled once more into a handy sensory package, Spike was still pumping slowly against her, and then he stilled, buried deep, running both hands up her sides and arms until his palms clasped the back of her hands, pinning her pleasantly, sticky, to the desk. His forehead was resting between her shoulder blades and Buffy could feel soft puffs of breath as his whole torso panted deeply above her.

Eventually Spike lifted his head. “Bloody hell, pet. I didn’t kill you, did I?” He made no move to get off her back and let her up, but Buffy didn’t think she wanted to move, and anyway, he wasn’t too heavy.

“No,” Buffy said absently, “I don’t think so…and if you did, I’m so not complaining.” Spike chuckled, a warm vibration that reverberated through her. He planted a kiss against her spine and licked there a little, tasting the salt of her cooling skin, scraping his teeth lightly, and it made her shiver. Another firm kiss, this time at the base of her neck, and then he withdrew from her, off of and out of her body.

“Fuck,” he swore, and she knew he’d just come to the same discovery she had. He eased Buffy up from her prone position against the desk and collapsed back into his chair, drawing her to curl up in his lap. She fit there comfortably, and he wrapped his arms around her. Her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, her face against his neck, which smelled like boy-soap. It felt safe.

“We forgot about a condom,” he commented quietly, merely stating a fact that needed to be considered.

“I realized when you came,” Buffy said against his neck, pleased when he shuddered a little at her breath. “But I’m on birth control—the kind they embed under the skin of your arm.”

She felt him relax almost imperceptibly. “That’s good. Been tested lately?”

“I’m clean.” It was one of the perks of the pregnancy scare, she had the bloodwork to prove it.

“Me too.” He kissed the top of her head. “Could have been worse, then.”

Buffy had never had sex without a condom before, had been wearing one with Parker but it had broken a little, and she could feel Spike’s come sliding thickly back from her. It was a strange, alien sensation and Buffy was conscious of making a mess, but Spike made no move to get up, so she just closed her eyes and relaxed.

“Good thing I’m done with the book, because after that, I’m not sure I could get much work done in this office.” Spike laughed. “Not that I wasn’t already daydreaming of you like a git every time I was in here before.”

She smiled and nuzzled into his neck. “You were?”

“Like a lovestruck teenager.” He laughed suddenly, like he realized what he’d just said. His arms tightened around her as his laughter slowed to a chuckle. “God, I’m a dirty bastard.”

Spike was quiet for a moment. “Buffy, you know, if we were home in England, this would be perfectly legal, but here—“

“I know. I won’t tell anyone.” She kissed his shoulder.

“Good girl.”


~*~*~*~





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