Five Servings A Day

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Chapter 8: Go Get It
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Several shots later, Buffy starts to wonder if she is going to be able to stay on her barstool much longer. Since it has taken to tilting wildly without warning. Spike is starting to get blond bld blurry, so she holds up a hand. “Whoa.”

“Whoa?” Spike stops with the bottle in the air, tipping towards her glass. His eyebrows are up. At least she thinks they are. Blurry.

“Yes, whoa. I’m done. Crispy. Insert fork.”

“Insert fork?” Spike puts the bottle down and smirks at her. The way he says fork is not at all proper. Stupid English accent, thinks Buffy.

“Wait, no. No inserting. Just stop. I’m done.”

“You mentioned that, luv. Meaning you are drunk?” Spike quickly takes another shot and Buffy stops talking, leaning closer to watch him carefully. When she realizes she is about to sway right into him, she jerks back quickly. And doesn’t fall. Spike’s hand on her arm holds her there and Buffy feels her whole body twitch at his firm touch on her bare skin.

She stops moving and lifts her eyes to his slowly. “Thanks.” A spark passes between them, making both very still.

“No problem, pet. Didn’t know you couldn’t hold your liquor.” Spike’s voice lacks its usual snark as he fights the urge to yank her off the stool and into his lap.

“Can too hold it. See, I’m holding it right now.” Buffy picks up the bottle of tequila and waves it at him, desperate to both strengthen and break the electricity snapping between them, and torn about which she wants more.

Spike smiles and lets go of her arm. Buffy sighs and pours herself another shot. “Thought you were done, Slayer.”

“I’ll need one more before.” With a newly acquired ease, Buffy licks the salt, takes the shot and sucks on the lemon while Spike studies her, brow furrowed.

“Before what?”

Buffy pops off the stool and puts her hand out. “Before we dance.”

“Before we what now?” Spike remains seated, mouth slightly agape. “Slayer, I thought we agreed. No dancing, not a date, remember?” He tries to scowl a little, but truthfully, his hands are positively twitching to grab ahold of her tight little body. The gleam in her eyes is full of a mischief never directed at him before.

“Yeah, but I’m bored with drinking and I like dancing and you’re here. And you never dance. So, let’s. No one will see us and blow our cover. What could happen?” The innocence in her eyes is only partly feigned. Buffy definitely worries abouat cat could happen, but one more shot and she is going to be in Spike’s lap. Between certain badness and maybe temptation, she’ll take the temptation. And she does like to dance.

Spike cocks his head, picking up the slow and sensual beat of the song. And the singer is pouring it on, thick like honey. Yeah, he could dance with the Slayer to this. He smirks at her and stands up, completely invading her personal space. Buffy gulps, faced with the physical presence of Spike mere inches from her. The air caught between them pulses with tension.

“Alright then. Shall we?” He looks down at her and Buffy cranes back to meet his gaze. The heat between them has nothing to do with the temperature in the Bronze. She is somewhat startled he agreed so readily and also deliciously pleased. Buffy licks her lips and tugs on him, and Spike follows her to the dance floor. The thought that maybe, just maybe the tequila was making her act a bit, oh what do you call it - brazen, maybe stupid - occurs to her. With a mental wave of her hand, she brushes that thought away. Tasty vampire on the radar screen. Consequences are just little blips she can ignore.

They move together onto the dance floor and all of a sudden, Buffy realizes what she is doing. Dancing with Spike? What the? She goes completely tense and ponders escape routes. But then, his hands. Hands on her waist. But where is...behind her. He’s behind her. With only a slight hesitation, Spike pulls her closer, her ass a few short inches from his crotch. Buffy’s string of protests blink out of existence when his mouth tickles her ear. “Relax, Slayer. Can’t dance if you’re holding your breath.” She lets it out, all at once. And lets the music in. The throbbing, pulsing beat fills her, starts to move her hips. Spike glances down when he feels his hands swaying with her hips. She swivels in time with the music and he feels a sudden tightening in his jeans as his cock twitches to life. He leans his head back slightly, desperate for some control. Can’t help thinking that this night has the potential for all kinds of craziness. But for now, the way the Slayer’s hips move under his grip is all he can focus on.

Buffy drifts into the music, letting the effects of the alcohol and the heavy weight of Spike’s hands on her waist take her inhibitions down about a dozen notches. Without warning, she steps back into him. Spike hisses as her tight ass comes right up against his hardening cock with a wriggle. Buffy’s hands drift up above her head and find their way into his hair. She closes her eyes with a sigh, moving into Spike’s embrace more and more. His hands move up her sides, drift up the underside of her arms and back down again. The active mental abilities of both Slayer and vampire experience a sudden blackout in the face of such overwhelming sexual energy.

Spike leans down, brushes his lips against her hair, the edge of her ear. His voice a warm whisper. “Slayer, do you know what you’re doing to me?” Buffy rotates in his arms, quickly closing the space again until nothing but their clothes separate the two.

“I’ve got some idea.” She presses just a little harder, fully aware of his currently aroused condition. The darkness in her eyes telegraphs a message of lust that buckles Spike’s knees. Somewhere behind the fog of tequila in Buffy’s mind, a voice is screaming her name, but it is just an annoyance. A gnat. She doesn’t want to stop an stu stupid inner voice is going to tell her what to do.

“You’re neasieasing me, are you?” Spike smirks as his hands travel down her nearly bare back to rest on her butt. The slickness of her skin, coated with a sheen of sweat, is positively intoxicating.

Buffy leans into him, eyes on his mouth and answers in a quiet voice, eyes flicking up to his eyes. “Not teasing if I finish what I start.” The spell of the music, the pounding beat, the heat, the alcohol and just plain old horniness is taking its toll on both of them.

She leans a little closer, lips almost brushing. Spike wonders when it became so much more interesting to find her tender spots than her weak spots, but decides not to overthink it. Just then, she freezes. Her eyes bug out and the grip on his arms grows too tight for comfort.

“Ow, Slayer! Bloody hell!”

“Shhh! Oh crap. Crap Crap Crap. Come on.” Spike glances the direction she is looking and sees the source of her panic. The Whelp and his ex-demon bird coming through the door. Damn. Buffy is madly yanking on him. “Spike, come on!”

“What for?”

“They will see us!” Buffy pulls harder, but Spike resists.

“So?”

“So? SO?! Do you WANT to be staked? Some kind of dust-wish?”

“What, by the boy? I could take him in a second, luv.”

“Hello! Chips ahoy! You can’t even slap him!”

Spike pushes out his bottom lip in a mini-pout. “Could, too. Well, you could, anyway.”

Buffy bites out her next words in a quick, low voice. “Are you trying to kill me? You are, right? Now that you can’t bite me, you want to just drive me so crazy I do myself in? I can’t let Xander see me macking all over you! What would I tell him?” Buffy ducks behind Spike as Xander and Anya head to the bar to order. She knows his stupid hair is a beacon in the dark Bronze and they will be seen any second. “I’m supposed to have you tied up at home, not here at the Bronze dancing!”

“Oh, so you want to go back and tie me up again, pet? Why didn’t you just say so?” Spike’s waggles his eyebrows, watching the Slayer turn an odd shade of purple. Then, that familiar flinty glare makes him sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s go.” Spike allows himself to be dragged quickly off the floor and under the stairs just as Xander and Anya move towards a small table with their drinks.

Safely out of sight, Buffy slumps. Against Spike. She starts to pull away, but his hands have a vise grip on her. “What’s the rush, luv?”

Buffy realizes she is now in a small dark space with an extremely aroused vampire. Even more frightening is her reaction. She hesitates. Doesn’t pull away automatically. She looks up at him, but his eyes are unreadable in the dark. He could make fun of her any second. What if it was all an act out there? What if she was the only one feeling it, whatever it was? Buffy stands up, putting a few inches between them as Spike’s hands drop with a sigh. She makes a show of straightening her short skirt, swaying slightly, and looking over towards Xander and Anya.

“That bitch!”

Spike jumps, his frustration briefly forgotten. “What’s that, Slayer?”

Turning towards him, she sputters, pointing back towards the couple at the table. She hisses her reply. “She’s got my lunchbox!” She spins back around and grabs onto a column for support, leaning against it.

“Huh?” Spike moves up behind Buffy, looking over her shoulder.

“Anya has my molded plastic with thermos included Barbie lunchbox, dammit.” Spike frowns as he sees Anya flip open the pink lunchbox and get out a compact to check her makeup.

“The one you lost?”

Buffy’s voice is all Slayer. “Didn’t lose it. She stole it.” Spike can feel the muscles in her back tense. He realizes he can feel this because he is now right up against her back. Again. Since Buffy has gone all one-track, she has not noticed it just yet. Spike glances down at her shoulder. The one he was sure would taste so good. So salty and tender. Before he can stop himself, he feels himself leaning towards the smooth curve of her hot skin and then his lips graze the skin. Perfect.

Buffy goes very still and he feels the anger seep out of her, quickly replaced by something equally dark and powerful. She clutches the column tighter, but she doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t make a sound. Feeling bolder, Spike kisses her shoulder again, lets his tongue taste her tanned skin. Savors the salt of her sweat on the tip of his tongue before moving up towards her neck. Pushing her hair out of the way carefully, Spike lays an open-mouthed kiss on her neck and is rewarded by a full-body shudder from Buffy.

Her eyes threaten to roll back into her head. His lips should hiss against her searing hot skin. Drops of water on a fire. They vaporize on impact. Just as his mouth moves up her neck, Buffy’s eyes come into focus once more.

“Go get it!”

Spike jumps slightly at her rather unorthodox come on line. “Pardon?” He resists the urge to laugh at the flushed Slayer as she spins on him, eyes wide. The mood is broken, once again.

“She left it on the table. Get it.”

Spike shakes headhead, lust making him foggy. “What?”

Buffy stomps her foot in exasperation. “The lunchbox. Spike, weren’t you listening? Look!” She points toward the table and Spike sees she is right. Anya and Xander have moved onto the dance floor and left her lunchbox unattended. “Get it for me!”

“Why? You get it!” Spike crosses his arms, put out by once again being dismissed. This time by a bloody lunchbox.

Buffy juts out her bottom lip. “Can’t. I’m all, y’know, tipsy. They would catch me. But you, you’re all stealthy.” She leans closer on the last word, dragging one finger down Spike’s black-clad chest. He breaks instantly.

“Dammit, fine. I’ll get it. Meet me in the alley.”

Buffy wrinkles her nose. “Eww. The alley?”

“Want we should go out the front door after I steal someone’s bag... or box, or whatever?”

Buffy nods. “Good point. Glad you’re planning this one. I think...I think that tequila has really gone to my head.”

Spike slips out from under the stairs without response. Buffy watches him walk towards the table casually. All the while, he is watching the dancing couple from the corner of his eye. The contents of the box are on the table and the box under his coat before she can blink. She whispers, “Damn. He’s good. I mean, bad. He’s very bad.” A small smile escapes her as she turns and makes for the backdoor behind the stairs.

A minute later, a grinning Spike joins her in the dark alley. He holds out the lunchbox and can’t help but laugh as she squeals in pleasure. He could get used to this version of the Slayer. Though it apparently takes a not insubstantial portion of alcohol to reveal her. She hugs the box to her and then marches dramatically up and down the alley, holding the box up in the air, Leaning against the wall, Spike lights up a cigarette, watching. “What’s this then, luv?”

Coming to a halt in front of him, Buffy grins goofily, eyes gleaming. “A parade in your honor, of course. My hero.”

Normally, he would flinch at being called something so nancy as a hero, but somehow, the unadulterated joy on the Slayer’s face makes him remain silent. He even smiles back. “Was nothing, luv. Humans are not too bloody quick, y’know? Didn’t even see me.”

“Yeah, you were supa fast. Quick like a ... hey, what’s that bulge?”

Spike nearly chokes on his cigarette, coughing hard for a minute. When he recovers, he sputters in reply, “Buffy, luv, if you don’t know, I don’t think I can...”

She interrupts him, reaching inside his duster suddenly. Her hand returns with a nearly full bottle of tequila drawn from the inside pocket. “This bulge! I meant, this one.” Buffy flushes bright red as she realizes what made Spike cough. She tries desperately to glance down and see if there was another bulge, but he is watching her too closely. “Where did you get this?”

Spike grins, taking the bottle from her hand. His voice is playful and deep, giving Buffy all kinds of naughty thoughts. “Told you they didn’t see me.”

“You stole it!?!”

“Bit louder, Slayer. Don’t think everyone in town quite heard you.”

She whispers, loudly. “You stole it?”

“Yeah, I nicked it. Thought you might want some more.” Buffy is torn between being pleased and indignant. She knows they can’t go back in to return it now. Not with Xander and Anya in there, probably realizing the box was gone...

“Oh damn, let’s go! They might come out here looking for this!” Buffy holds up the pink box and grabs Spike’s arm again.

“Where to, pet?”

“My house! Come on!” Buffy tugs harder, pulling Spike along the alley.

The smirk on his face would melt her panties. “Thought you’d never ask...”


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Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Feedback is very appreciated. :) Tiana