AU Fantasy -- NC-17

contains sexuality not suitable for little brats not out of their diapers yet. Basically meaning anyone under 18 years of age. You're not allowed to read this!



Night time was a good time. Night time meant that she didn't have to be Mum anymore, because her devil children were finally asleep.


'About damn time, too,' she thought. Annalee had decided that, tonight, she was too good for the bath-and-bedtime combo. and had thus led her mummy on a merry chase throughout the whole house, until she had officially blown it by freezing at the sound of their family cat meowing outside in the rain. Having been captured -- though not before annoying her poor, overworked mother into letting the aforementioned family cat, nicknamed Boo, back inside the house -- Annalee was finally dunked into the tub a few times before being tucked -very- snuggly into bed.


And because of his big sister's bedtime antics, little Billy had gotten all wound up, and took to chasing poor, wet Boo around the kitchen before his mother had hauled him under her arm, and repeated the bath-dunk and bed-tuck ritual with him.


And now... she was free. Free, free, free!


Had she forgotten to mention that night time also meant lots of alone time with the hubby? And God knew she needed it. And really, he OWED her, after leaving her to fend for herself all Saturday morning with sugar-hyped Satan-spawn. Not that it was entirely his fault.


'Stupid lawyer firm,' she thought bitterly. Bastards hated her darling hubby for being absolutely untouchable in the courtroom, and because the whole lot were unimaginative idiots, they thought up idiotic ways to disrupt his home life -- as indicated such by his leaving her to deal with the children alone this morning. Honestly, she didn't know why Spike subjugated himself to working in that sleazy place -- the scumbags crawling all over the offices of Wolfram & Hart were what gave most decent lawyers a bad rep.


The fact that the Higher Ups adored Spike and gave him a salary to end all salaries at the cost of every other employee didn't even have anything to do with it. They just hated the poor guy.


Although now she realized that the hatred of the females of the firm was mostly jealousy. After all, Spike was young, dynamic, absolute gorgeous, and had an equally gorgeous wife, and equally gorgeous children -- not to mention the Salary to End All Salaries part. She smirked to herself. Most of the women had spread their legs for every one of their superiors to get where they were (with the small exception of Lilah Morgan, a family friend, who had pretty much just kneed all her superiors in the nuts and taken their places), and the only thing that really galled them was the fact that they had done the exact same thing to Spike, and he had flat out refused each and every one of them, on the basis that they were gold-digging wenches with hinges for legs.


She was brought back down to earth by the sound of the door slamming shut, combined with the flash of a bolt of lightning, and a crash of thunder, followed by heavy, tired footsteps trudging up the stairs. She got off the bed, her modest white slip gown swirling around her, and tilted her head to the side -- a quirk she'd picked up from her overly curious husband.


When Spike entered the room, it was all she could do to stifle her laughter.


He was soaked. Not one inch of him had survived the raging storm outside, nor had he managed to get past the twelve feet of mud that the front yard had become. His normally slicked back hair was hanging over his eyes in heavy, wet curls, and he looked positively furious.


"What the bloody hell is that shit outside?!" he began ranting, and for the next five minutes, all Buffy heard was 'bloody this' and 'bloody that' as Spike raged on and on about his awful night at work, how stupid and jealous and bigoted most of the lawyers were, how big of whores the females were, and on and on and on, until Buffy finally noticed what Spike had been trying to conceal from her by constantly waving his hands around in the air.


He was shivering. No, not shivering -- Spike was trembling, shaking all over, and now as Buffy looked closer, she noticed that his skin had a hint of purple and blue, clearly visible as pale as he was. She jumped up instantly and tugged him down to the bed, unwrapping his clothing from him as she want.


"What the hell is wrong with you, Will?! Look at you, you're so cold, and you're shaking so much you look like you're being bumped around on a vibrating bed!"


He attempted to leer at her, but the effect was sorely lost as his teeth began chattering. "Bumped around on a vibratin' bed, eh? Is that some sort of hint of what you want to do tonight, luv?"


Buffy rolled her eyes. "That'd be much more convincing if you didn't look like the Living Dead right now." She gave him one good punch in the shoulder, making him yelp. "You could've gotten pneumonia, you idiot! What the hell were you doing outside, just standing in the rain?"


He pouted, rubbing his hands up and down his now bare arms. "NO..." he said in the sort of way that meant 'Yes, but I don't want you thinking I actually did anything that stupid.'


Buffy sighed and pulled him into her arms, pushing his hands down and taking over the warming-up part herself. "You're practically frozen," she muttered. "What on earth were you even thinking, Will? Standing outside in the rain -- correction, in a thunderstorm? Were you under the tree smoking? I'll kill you if you were, a lightning bolt could have hit you, and I wouldn't have known until the next morning, when I fund you, all --"


Spike clapped a hand over her mouth, his brain pounding away inside his head, trying to get out. "Cut your prattlin', woman, I swear you're gonna knock a screw loose in my head!"


Buffy grinned fondly. "You're already a screw loose, babe. That's why I love you, remember?"


Spike smirked, barely getting out a 'yeah' before Buffy's face contorted and she started thinking. "Then again, maybe it's because of the sex? Do you think the sex is it?" Spike let out a warning growl that made her giggle. "Down, Cujo."


Spike rolled his eyes. "How old are you supposed to be again?"


Buffy grinned. "A woman never divulges her true age -- not even to her eternally hot 26-year-old husband."


"You're only a year younger than me!"


Buffy shrugged. "That doesn't mean I have to admit that."


Spike groaned and bent forward, burying his cold nose against her shoulder, making her squeak and giggle. After a moment, he sighed and said, "It's not raining out there anymore, luv."


She cocked her head. "How can you tell?"


He shook his head and frowned. "No, pet, I mean when I got home -- it wasn't raining anymore. It was bloody hailing. Nearly got me head cracked open by one of them."


Buffy frowned, rubbing cheek and placing a kiss on his forehead. "Oh... my poor baby." She pulled back slightly. "Did the poor thing break?"


He looked up at her in confusion, before scowling when he saw her giggling. "Oh, very funny, pet. Hee-fuckin'-larious." He shivered again unconsciously. Buffy noticed instantly and rolled on top of him, rubbing his limbs down.


"You poor thing... oh my God, Spike, you are so cold! I think you need the thermal blanket, hold on - ooh!"


Spike had managed to yank her back into his lap, rubbing up against her, grinning roguishly. "Sod the blanket, luv. You're nothing but heat..." His eyes flickered over her in a down-up read before he pressed the flat of his tongue against his top teeth in a move that always managed to send delicious chills up and down her spine. "Warm me up yourself."


Buffy gave him a slow, wide grin. "Is that an invitation?" she asked, leaning closer.


Spike slid his hands down her sides, lightly cupping her unfettered breasts before gliding down to cover her hips, pressing them down against him, as he pushed his growing erection against her. One hand returned north and, cupping the back of her head, he jerked her closer.


"It's a bloody order," he sneered, before crushing her lips to his. Buffy let out a soft yelp before allowing him to drag her down into their soft bed. His other hand returning to cup her breast through her nightgown made her give out a loud moan.


"Oh, GOD," she slurred, arching her hips. And suddenly, even though they had just begun, Spike's light contact wasn't enough anymore, and she went crazy, trying to tear off his clothes.


"Easy, baby, easy," he murmured soothingly, rubbing her breast gently through the material before his hand found its way inside. His cold touch on her overheated skin drove her wild, and shivers broke out all over her body, each and every one of them somehow leading directly down to her sex. His hand began kneading her, thumb and forefinger playing with a puckered nipple, before her moans managed to get entirely too loud.


"Shh, baby," he whispered, before trailing his free hand between her legs and caressing her as he said slyly, "Don't want to wake up the kiddies, now do we?"


Buffy trembled. Cold fingers, cold fingers, was pretty much the only thing she was thinking... and it was driving her absolutely numb with pleasure. His fingers were gliding up and down her slit now, poking between her lips every other second to deliver a cold shock to her clit.


Her hips bucked when Spike finally ran his finger right down her swollen bundle of nerves. She let out a soft cry and, unable to take his torture (because he would torture her -- she knew this for a fact) any longer, she rolled them over and settled herself on top to take control. She straddled him and tilted her head. "I thought you wanted me to warm you up?" she asked, rubbing against him lightly. Her hips began in a steady motion, slowly shifting so that her clit caught the angled head of his cock straight through his boxers.


Spike nodded shakily. "You do it best, luv," he managed.


Buffy sighed. "But that little spectacle earlier... that didn't feel like me doing it to you. That felt like you being in control. I thought I was supposed to be in control?" Her hips twisted around on the accented word, making the funniest little squeak pop out of his mouth.


He opened his mouth to reply, only to have his voice crack. When he cleared his throat, he managed to say, "You're in control... you control it all, I swear it!"


Buffy grinned. "Oh... good boy." And with that, she attacked him.


Spike's sight began to swim before him, and all he could manage to focus on was beautiful bronzed skin and golden hair, each modified in their own way by the sun. And while Buffy's hands flew over his nude body, doing things to him that would be illegal in most states -- and probably were -- his brain began to shut down, and he lost all conscious, coherent thought.


She was sitting up again now, her nightgown still on, but hiked up high over her legs. She was straddling him, and from the angle he was at, he had just... the right... view of her glistening wet pussy. She had pulled his cock right out of the slit in his boxers, and (this was where he'd lost conscious thought) was currently grinding herself against him. Her hand was supporting his girth, holding it up as she tipped her rapidly swelling clit up and down against his thick, spongy head. Her head was thrown back, her long hair spilling behind her in almost glorious waves, and every once in a while, she'd let out a little 'mew' of pleasure. She began arching herself more forcefully, grinding into him with barely repressed primitiveness -- the only though on her mind was achieving her release while assisting him with his.


Okay, so right now, her's was more important. She'd get to Spike eventually.


Spike let out a growl. Buffy was playing with him -- yeah, poor choice of words. The little bint was antagonizing him, holding him just out of reach of his goal. Hmph. And she was supposed to be warming him up.


Right. Well, he wasn't just going to lay there. No way in hell -- he was going to participate. His hands moved between her thighs, capturing her fingers and leading them to his aching dick. Slow up and down movements over his hard flesh gradually gained momentum, and Spike began thrusting at her in earnest, his fingers swirling and twisting around her clit.


When Spike was finally about to roll over and give in, Buffy lifted herself up and plunged down on him without a second thought. Tingling sensations trailed up and down the inside of her snatch, as they always did every time she drew Spike inside of her, and she threw her head back to let out a desperate moan. 


Spike, meanwhile, was already beginning to spasm from the sensations of her tight velvety core stretched around him -- as he always did. "Oh, god, Buffy," he murmured, his hips lifting right off the bed in a vain attempt to get closer to her. Grasping her hips, he pulled out of her slowly, then rammed skyward with incredible force.


Buffy bit her lip to keep from screaming, but nevertheless let out a yelp. "Ooh... Oh! Spike!" He always did this -- always tested her limits, always tested to see how quiet she could actually be with their children asleep in bed two rooms over.


He usually won.


Grabbing the ends of her nightgown, Spike undressed her completely and sat up straight. The angle change within her made Buffy give a fairly loud 'eep,' and Spike clapped a hand firmly over her mouth, grinning. "Shh! Not so loud, pet," he murmured, pulling her closer. "Can't wake up the kids, 'member? Can you be quiet, luv?" Buffy whimpered again, desperate but not desperate enough to wake up the Hellions and make them curious enough to come and see what Mummy and Daddy were doing. Spike continued, leaning close to her now-bare breast. "There'll be a nice prezzie in it for you..." he added, before swooping in and capturing her left nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. 


Buffy's hips rose, and she let out a muffled shriek -- which was only muffled because Spike's hand was still over her mouth. Wrapping her arms tightly around him, she leaned against him, her face buried in his neck. "God... harder, Spike... faster... please," she whispered, feverishly nipping at his neck. One well-placed bite, and Buffy found herself pinned beneath 165.8 pounds of Horny Male, happily letting him hammer away inside of her.


Her pleas, moans, groans, whimpers, and cries rose in octaves, until she was finally speaking in a tone that would make dogs cringe if they heard it. Spike's hand moved between them once again, zeroing in on her sensitive clit as his other hand grabbed her right leg and lifted it over his shoulder. Rubbing her fast with his thumb, as the angle they were in stretched her and targeted her sweet spot, Spike managed to hold off from actually coming inside of her until she keened -- ear splittingly loud -- in his ear and bounced her hips up and down off the bed.


"Oh -- oh! Spike! Coming!" she yelped, grabbing his hand and holding his thumb down on her clit. Sure enough, several seconds later, Spike's loins were surrounded by a wet, sticky sort of warmth, his wife's voice babbling incoherently in his ear, her tiny body writhing away around and beneath him. When her inner muscles began to squeeze, he knew he was done for and -- drawing a deep breath as his vision began to spark -- he began to pulse, shooting his come deeply in her womb. A growl teetered on the edge of his lips, and he snarled her name hungrily, his teeth clenched, pushing into her and holding the position for a final time.


His hips continued to jerk and spasm minutes after his eruption -- which involuntarily caused Buffy's hips to do the same. As the after shocks wore off, he tiredly collapsed on top of her, snuggling against her and curling his face into her neck. Buffy's hands rose and she lazily began stroking his soft blonde hair, her other arm wrapped tightly and possessively around his shoulders.


"So," she started after a moment. "... you still all frozen?"


Spike chuckled softly and nuzzled her. "No, babe. 'M not a Spikecicle anymore."


Buffy grinned. "Au contraire, darling. You're a nice, big Spikecicle. Just for me. All mine." She scrunched her nose up cutely. "Yummy, yummy!"


Spike snorted and hid his face. "You've been 'round that Anya bird too long, kitten.  Any day now, you're gonna start spouting off 'bout how everyone needs orgasms, right in the middle of the grocery."


Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Would that be a bad thing?"


Spike frowned in response. "If you say it in front of other men, yes." He glared at her mock-interested look. "No! I forbid it!"


"Okay, Master," she responded sarcastically. Spike pouted.


"Buffy mine," he explained simply. The little blonde giggled.


"Right, then, Neanderthal Boy. Buffy yours. Buffy always yours. Speaking to other cave guys bad. Buffy no speak."


Spike nodded. "Damn right." His eyes twinkled. "So should I club you over the head to get you in the mood again, pet?"


Buffy grinned and kissed him. "Is that really necessary?"


"Depends on --"


"Mummy, Daddy? Are you up?"


Before either adult could dive under the covers, Annalee had pushed open the bedroom door, eliciting a horrified yelp from her mother, and a smothered 'Bloody hell!' from her father. She took one glance at the scrambling figures in the master bedroom, before rolling her eyes and groaning, closing the door as she walked back out of the bedroom. "Eeewww! Billy, go back to bed! The noise was just Mum and Dad boffing again!"


Buffy's eyes widened before she flopped backwards and groaned. "I knew letting Dawn have niece and nephew privileges couldn't be productive..."


Spike chuckled helplessly and closed his eyes. Damn demon children. They always managed to get the best of them.








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