AN: For anyone interested in continuity, this happens at the end of chapter 15 - I really doubt you need to read that in great detail to follow what's going on here though. Just, you know - background.

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She thinks her breathing skips for a second and Spike stops what he's doing immediately. "Hey, we don't have to-"

"No. No, it's fine." Her voice is super high-pitched though and it is fine, it's not like this is a big deal, just, well okay, look, this is not the kind of thing you do when you're casually sleeping with someone and Winnie hasn't exactly had a serious person to do this with like, ever (and god knows, she'd never have done this with Rob – which, actually, would have been good to know at the time. Trust – or a serious lack of it – and all of that, probably would have told her in less than five seconds everything she couldn't face at the time). So. Nervous. She's just nervous.

Spike gives her this reassuring smile and she finds herself smiling back, heartbeat slowing just a little and she's the one who reaches up and kisses him, wants him to go back to what he was doing two minutes ago, hands on her ribcage and tongue against hers.

(Also. She started carrying extra underwear in her purse, right in the side pocket, after the second time they slept together because who wants to go home in ruined underwear? No one. She's also been doing a lot more laundry since she started sleeping with him but that's really neither here nor there.)

She lets out this throaty moan that sounds completely contrived but isn't when his fingers slip into the waistband of the dark red Hanky Pankys she's got on (okay, so she did some planning ahead here, she's not ashamed of it, it's not like he doesn't notice so).

He gives her this grin, all dark and a little dangerous before he leans down and nips hard at her collar bone. Possibly, it's a thing she's admitted to herself that she likes and her whole body shivers.

He mouths his way down her stomach, five o'clock shadow scratching lightly at her skin, all the hair on the back of her neck standing up and she's biting down hard on her bottom lip to keep from swearing. Except then, he bites at her hip bone and all the bottom lips in the world wouldn't be enough.

"Fuck," she mutters, this snarling little hiss.

He smirks up at her, like the challenge was to make her say it and he won (but also, clearly, she's winning here too). "Stay still," he says.

Which is suddenly impossible, wasn't until he told her to and her breathing is doing this ridiculous thing where it's really loud, all harsh and like, desperate, and all she can hear. She's bracing herself for more when he abruptly moves all the way back up, the slide of his body against hers making her arch right into him, like she's right on the edge even though he's barely touched her anywhere below her waist. She looks up at him and is just sure that he knows exactly what she was expecting him to do, this devilish little smile.

Winnie narrows her eyes at him, waits for him to kiss her and then loops her leg around his hip and twists. It's not quite as effective as it would be on someone without his reflexes and he laughs a little into her mouth as she hovers over him, scratches her nails lightly across his chest (she doesn't miss the way his abs jump and she raises her eyebrows at him, grins when he rolls his eyes at her in response).

She's gotten pretty familiar with how his skin feels by now, all the muscle and how everything's all hard (and not just the obvious – all that training isn't going to waste here. She's actually a little worried that one day she's going to get really drunk and tell Ed that by accident), all the power in his arms and chest. She's also gotten pretty familiar with how much he enjoys her kissing her way down his stomach, does exactly what he did, bites her way lightly back up the path she came down and then kisses him on the lips.

"Unlike you," she says, leaning close to him, "I'm not a huge tease."

He laughs, stops abruptly when she wriggles her way back down his body, mouth over him and seriously, she has no idea when it became a thing for her to enjoy the feel of someone (him) at the very back of her throat.

She waits for a minute and a half, sliding her mouth over and around him, swallowing, until he lets out this groan that may or may not be some kind of amalgamation of an expletive and her name, grins and pushes herself back, climbs over him on all fours.

"Liar," he accuses weakly.

She bursts out laughing, tosses her hair behind one shoulder. "Am I?"

He grasps her by the hips, rolls them over and she's still laughing when he slides two fingers up inside her, almost chokes on her own saliva (but then, he looks all pleased at how she feels, and like, apparently, what's turning her on these days is everything he does which is so ridiculous, she should be embarrassed but then he grins at her and she's just not. At all).

She raises her eyebrow at him. "So?"

"You want to? Seriously?" He sounds disbelieving. She doesn't actually blame him, thinks she got a little too freaked out earlier (which - again, stupid, it's not like he suggested anything weird, to most people, what he suggested is probably as vanilla as her sex life before him was).

"You brought it up," she points out, fingers reaching out to pull the edge of the scarf closer. "So?"

"Winnie, we don't have to-"

"I want to." She says it real fast, is suddenly really into the whole idea, even though it's like, so absurd and cliché and she is not the main character in a really bad erotic fiction novel.

He laughs. "Okay. Okay. Um. Just so we're clear. I'm not going to-"

"-do anything weird. I know." She does know. All the fear that was sitting in the bottom of her stomach is gone and she thinks it's been replaced with some kind of really outrageous anticipation. As in, if he doesn't get on with things here, she's going to just do it herself.

He's still looking down at her, eyes searching her face for something so she huffs and tells him exactly that. Slides one hand down her own side like she's going to-

The scarf is tied around her eyes before she can even get to her waistband. She clears her throat, takes a deep slow breath in through her nose and tries not to think about all the things she's just given up (like – her sight, for one, control and the driver's seat and she doesn't even know what else). Spike's hands are at her hips and he slides her underwear down and she's as naked as he is.

It's-it is weird not being able to see anything, like she feels the bed dip on her left and assumes that's where he is but then he licks at the inside of her right thigh and it's unexpected and she keeps jumping (not in a bad way, not at all, actually thinks it's pretty fucking enjoyable, his fingers skimming across her ribs, how after the third pass, she knows which fingers he's touching her with from the way the calluses on them feel, how his tongue is a hundred degrees hotter than she imagined it being).

It creeps up on her, one single brush of his hand and she's coming apart, doesn't realize it until she is, gasping his name, aware of her back arching. His lips are on hers before it's even over, this kiss like he's drowning, or she is, and she has no idea whose idea it is, if it's him or her or both of them but she ends up with her back to him, that hot press of him from behind her, and he lowers her down on her stomach, his right hand between her and the mattress and and when he bites at her shoulder lightly, she nearly chokes on the pillow (he gets her off though, so nearly suffocating isn't going to stop her, not at all, good to know. It's not like she usually takes long, not with him, is usually so turned on that he touches something innocuous like her wrist and she's done. But with her eyes covered, how she can hear things that she doesn't usually hear, how she can't predict anything he's going to do – well, whatever. In any case, that's two for her and zero for him and she's got a goal in mind now and it's great that he has one too but she likes being the one to make him incoherent).

She's aware of him laughing, the pillow suddenly nowhere near her mouth and she's laughing too, even though her whole body is aching and still-ready at the same time. "Up?" That's the best she can do, is completely monosyllabic here.

"Okay," he says agreeably, like he's still smiling.

He moves with her and she grins to herself when she presses back against him, sudden and hard, hears this muttered curse and she does it again while his fingers fumble at her hips.

"Winnie." His voice is totally ruined, all rough, like he's got a bad case of strep. It makes her shiver right to the tips of her fingers.

"My turn," she says, tells him she wants to get on top now (thinks it comes out sounding a little bossy, wonders when in the hell that happened), grins when he lets out this soft huff of laughter.

He pinches her as he moves and she slaps his hand away from her breast with a snicker, can picture him sliding his back up against the headboard. She doesn't even reach for the scarf covering her eyes, lets him pull her to him, right into his lap, blind with his hands on her.

She finds his lips, kisses him hard on the mouth, has no idea how she's supposed to line them up if she can't even see-

Well, he does it for them anyway.

Probably, by this point in the night, it shouldn't be as satisfying as it was at the beginning but it is, all hot, this agonizing stretch that she should be used to but isn't and everything slippery as she clings to him.

He kisses his way down to her neck, mutters all kinds of stuff in her ear that she would never repeat to anyone, mind and hips focused on one goal (okay, see, here's the problem with her big goal – and it's the same problem she has every time, it's just that she starts off and then it's like her body reminds her that this is awesome and oh right, she's going to have to veer away from her goal for one small moment and it's so hard to ignore all the things he's doing to her. Also, Spike's fingers are digging hard into her hips and that and all the friction between them, the muscles in his arms that she's got her hands wrapped around, how he breathes hard against the side of her neck – here's the bottom line, she can't stop herself, can't tell her body to ignore it for the time being so she can make him come instead).

Also, immediately after she falls right over the edge and into his arms, she's useless. Like boneless, stupid-useless, can't lift her head or move or do anything other than bite down on his shoulder. Pulls herself together with difficulty, keeps going and he moves suddenly, this motion that brings her way closer to him and she lets out a yelp of surprise, feels him breathe a laugh against her lips before he kisses her, hands suddenly rough on her and she welcomes it which just goes to show, he's gone and changed everything around in her brain. Also, it's completely and totally foolish for her to feel accomplished but he groans her name and that's what she feels. Totally satisfied and accomplished.

He tugs the scarf off her face and she blinks in the half light, grins at him. He gives her this cautious smile and she feels her grin widen. She pulls him towards her for a kiss, hand at the back of his neck, all content and also like they definitely made a mess of his bed and she doesn't care. He moves them slowly, hand at her back as he lifts her so they can lie flat.

"So next time you suggest something, we're obviously just going to get right into it," she says and her voice is a little teasing but she's completely serious, is just about ready to follow him anywhere.

Spike snorts. "Really."

"Really."

"Yeah? You sure?"

She stares at him, like obviously, can't he tell that sex with him is a thing she enjoys and wouldn't mind doing all the time? "Yeah," she says emphatically. "A lot."

He laughs, kisses her again and they are somewhere in the middle of the bed sideways but he pulls her close to him, tugs her so that she's lying against his chest, kisses her temple. She shifts a little closer, sighs blissfully at the feel of his arm around her, skin on skin.

His fingers rub at her waist just a little and it makes her do that thing where she loses her filter and just starts throwing up words. "I didn't know that was going to be, like. Fun."

He laughs, brushes his lips against hers. "Yeah? What did you think it was going to be?"

"Like. Humiliating?"

His fingers pause just for a second and then resume running across her and she's already cursing herself for opening her mouth (one time, her and Rob, one time where it wasn't vanilla and she never wanted to do it again, which should probably tell anyone listening exactly how it went).

"Spike. No. I didn't think you were going to be like that." She clears her throat, looks right at him. "I didn't."

"Okay."

"I really didn't. I don't…I know you wouldn't-I don't think that you would…I just-it's-like, we just have possibly the greatest sex ever, is all I'm saying." She's babbling. Wants to shut up but can't. "Like you should tell people how good you are at it, it's like being really good at Monopoly. Or. Boggle. The point is-"

He cuts her off with a kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth. "I think I got the point," he says, smiles at her like he saw through all the crap that came out of her mouth to what she was actually trying to say.

She tangles her hands in his hair when she kisses him, all lazy and slow, his lips soft against hers. She smiles at him when they break apart, both of them barely a centimetre away from each other and she runs her fingers through his hair, tries to undo the unruliness she just put into it. His eyes close, this look of enjoyment on his face that's totally different to the other look of enjoyment he gets on his face and they lie there for what feels like hours, her just running her fingers through his hair, leaning over on one elbow to kiss him and his hand never leaving her waist and hip.