WARNING - This chapter has been severly edited due to very strong sexual content. The un-cut version can be found at www.spuffyarchives.com.

Thanks Flames, Lady Anne and Silver!!

DAY 9 - continued

Spike walked briskly into the laundry area and resumed folding his dry clothes on the table in the center of the room. He was desperate to block out the last few hours as best as he could; trying to forget how they had worked so well together, the feeling of being alone again after the agony of the last few days. A loud slam pulled him from his thoughts, causing him to stop his folding and turn towards the source of the interruption.

"What right do you have giving ME the silent treatment?" demanded a furious little blonde from across the room.

He stared at her blankly for a moment and then squatted next to the dryer, pulled out a few more items, and placed them on the table for folding.

Buffy was fuming. 'How dare he ignore me!?' She took a few steps forward and set her hands on the wood's surface, positioned directly across from him on the long end of the large rectangular table. "Especially after those asinine things you said to me."

Spike groaned and looked at the ceiling in exasperation and muttered under his breath, "Bloody hell." He finally lowered his eyes to the girl in front of him and spoke slowly, but sternly. "Buffy . . . I tried to apologize for that but you wouldn't let me." He paused momentarily, finally allowing her behavior over the last week to consume him with anger. "You would only let me bring you off on a bus, surrounded by campers." Buffy didn't flinch at his remark, which only made Spike more irate. "Besides, if you hadn't run off to snog Angel - after we were apart for less than 12 hours, mind you - I never would have shot off my mouth like that."

Buffy stalked around the table so that she stood only three feet away from Spike. She put her hands on her hips and shot daggers at him from her flickering green eyes. "So it's my fault now that you basically called me a slut and treated me like a whore?"

Spike snickered and reached past her to get more clothes from the dryer. "If the shoe fits, luv."

Buffy backed up, closing the dryer door as she moved, and placed her body directly between him and the machine - leaning her elbows on the slightly warm surface. "Well, I didn't hear you complaining when you had me pressed against the tree, crying out my name in ecstasy."

"If I recall, you were the one who mounted me luv," he responded with a smirk. "Not to mention that while hiding under my duster you basically forced my fingers," he gave her a small wave, "between your hot, slick lips."

Buffy struggled not to look at his luscious mouth and instead stared directly into his eyes. 'Also, a mistake,' she realized as her heartbeat quickened. She gulped and hopped up on the dryer, letting her legs dangle over the edge. "Well, you served your purpose," she said icily.

Spike couldn't contain his anger any longer. He moved slowly towards her and placed his hands beside Buffy's body, effectively trapping her on the machine. He took another step forward and positioned himself between her spread legs. Buffy gasped at his closeness, and tried to ignore the heat that was rising in her body.

He chuckled deep in his throat, noting her response. Leaning in closer, he whispered huskily in her ear, "And now you lie awake every night, thinking about the way we moved together. The feel of me inside you."

Buffy's breathing was becoming uneven, and her eyes drifted closed, reacting to his hot breath.

He moved his hands to her hips, pulling her forward to rest against him fully. "You crave me now more than ever."

Buffy snapped out of her haze and pushed him away from her. She jumped off the machine and spat in his face harshly, "You're bent!"

He laughed again and ran one finger lightly down her cheek, staring at her lips. "And it made you scream didn't it."

She grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. "I hate you," she said, her voice steady and cold.

He wrestled his hand from her grasp and said sharply. "And I'm all you've . . ."

Without warning, Buffy was on him, crushing his lips in a bruising kiss. Spike responded to her immediately, invading her waiting mouth with his tongue. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his body. She wriggled in his arms, tangling her hands in his soft hair. This kiss wasn't sweet and tender like so many of the others that came before it; this was angry, needy, and passionate.

Buffy pulled away, eyes glazed with lust and tore Spike's t-shirt from his jeans. She lifted the black material over his head in one swift motion, throwing the garment to the floor.

He watched her in amazement. He had never seen her like this before, and it made his blood boil.

She placed one hand behind his head and pulled him back to her, capturing his lips once more. Wrenching her lips away from his, she began to place hot, quick kisses along his jaw line. Spike's eyes rolled back as she began sucking his jugular greedily; nipping at the tender flesh. Her nails dug into his back, leaving deep gashes in their wake, causing him to hiss at the twinge of pain.

Spike smoothed his hands down Buffy's back and squeezed her ass roughly as he pulled her tightly against his throbbing erection. He turned them around and stumbled back to the dryer. She leaned into him and resumed kissing his mouth hungrily, her palms pressed firmly to his hard chest.

Spike broke off the kiss and gasped for air. He looked deeply into her flashing eyes and lifted her shirt over head, casting it to the floor. They were both panting, desperate for more contact. He dipped his head to her collarbone and placed rough open-mouth kisses to the area above her breasts.

Buffy held his head tightly to her as she moaned, grinding herself against him rhythmically.

He moved his mouth to cover her left breast and caught her nipple between his teeth. She let out a loud shriek, which only made him continue his harsh treatment of the lace-covered mound. He kissed his way over her cleavage and resumed his attack on her right breast.

Buffy tore his head from her chest and kissed him full on the mouth. She sucked on his lower lip, and bit it, causing a small dot of blood to appear.

Spike lifted the petite blonde in his arms and let her wrap her legs around his waist. He resumed thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he walked them towards the table in the center of the room and set her down on the wood surface. He watched with hooded eyes as she pushed his folded clothing to the floor - effectively clearing the table. She scooted back as he climbed on, crawling towards her with a predatory glint in his eyes.



EDITED FOR CONTENT (I cut out the entire thing. There was absolutely no way to tame it down to ff.net standards. To find out what happened check out www.spuffyarchives.com. Some of the below as been slightly edited as well.)

When he stopped shaking, Spike opened his eyes and looked at the girl below him. Her hair, now matted with sweat, was stuck to her forehead. He softly brushed the strands aside, and examined her sleepy face. Buffy opened her eyes, and found herself staring into Spike's soft blue ones. They gazed at each other, filled with wonder over what had just occurred.

Buffy let a shy smile form on her face, and was rewarded with a similar grin from the man above her.

Spike used the side of his thumbs to gently wipe away the tears that had slipped from her glassy eyes. Next, he traced the features of her face with one hand and Buffy sighed contentedly at the motion.

She recalled the last time he had done that. They'd been lying on his bed in The Crypt; sharing their deepest fears, hopes, and dreams. That was right before she left for L.A., and everything had gone to hell. Tears began rolling down her face as she thought of how twisted things had become. Spike murmured soft words of comfort and wiped the wetness from her face. As she nuzzled into his hand, he felt himself harden within her. Buffy placed a quick kiss to his palm and lifted her pelvis, indicating that she was ready to begin again.

Spike rotated his hips lazily, enjoying the feel of being buried inside the warm safe place. He started a nice, slow, languid pace - wanting this time to be gentle, and tender. With their desire and desperation satiated by their previous frantic lovemaking, they could take their time this round. They stared deeply into each other's eyes as Spike lowered his mouth to Buffy's waiting lips.

A loud banging sound tore them from their sweet moment. "Are you done yet?" a whiny voice demanded.

Their eyes went wide as they finally realized exactly where they were, staring at each other, frozen in silence.

The voice continued, "Whoever's in there. . . can you please stop whatever it is you're doing?!" Buffy moved her hands to Spike's chest and gently nudged him. As they sat up, the table creaked unhappily beneath them. "I put my clean clothes - including bras and underwear - on that table. . .so that's just. . .gross!"

Buffy hopped off the table and began pulling on her clothes as quickly as humanly possible.

Spike watched her sadly as she scurried around the room searching for missing items of clothing. 'She's freaking out . . .then again . . .why shouldn't she be? That was intense.'

He pulled on his jeans and tugged his t-shirt over his head, and began picking up his strewn laundry from the floor. He picked up a small scrap of material and looked at it curiously.

"Have you seen my underwear?" Buffy asked, barely above a whisper.

Spike started to hand her the item in his hand, but he quickly tucked it in his back pocket. "No, sorry."

Since she was looking everywhere but at him, she didn't notice his little act of thievery. 'Calm down Buffy,' she thought to herself. She wasn't ready to think about what had just happened. 'You don't have to deal with this at this very second.' She gave Spike a weak smile, and shushed him before he could say a word. "Later . . .ok?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him to give her time to let what had just happened sink in.

He nodded and watched her run out the back door of the laundry room. He quickly fetched the rest of his clothes, tossed them in his laundry basket, and made his own escape.

On the other side of the door Cordelia tapped her foot impatiently. "Hello?" she asked. "Since, I can't hear anything, I'm assuming you're decent now." Hesitantly, she turned the doorknob and cracked the door open an inch. When she didn't see anything, she swung the door wide. Balancing her basket on her hip, she shuffled into the laundry area. The air smelled like a mix of sex, bleach, and detergent - not awful, but not all that pleasant either. She set her basket on the floor, and removed her bottle of detergent. She placed her hand on the table for extra leverage, and stood up straight. "Ewww!" she shrieked as she felt something sticky on her hand. She looked at the table and saw that it was covered in a slick layer of sweat. "That is so gross." She shuddered; at least it was only sweat. She didn't want to think about the other fluid she could have stuck her hand in. She took a dirty towel from her basket and wiped down the table. 'At least someone is getting some.'