A/N- Oh boy! First ever attempt at writing smut… I'm really nervous about this chapter, so PLEASE tell me what you think. An NC-17 form will be available at www.spuffyarchives.com shortly. Thanks for the reviews, guys, and sorry for the wait!

Chapter Three: Still Connected

Coffee… That's what he needed. Lots and lots of coffee. And drugs. Wonderful, wonderful ibuprofen. Spike stumbled towards the cabinet in the bathroom, only to run into his roommate on the way there.

"Morning Spike," she said, way too cheerfully for… well, it was 1 in the afternoon, but he had a hangover, damn it, so she shouldn't be so happy!

He mumbled something resembling "Mornin', Tara," and resumed his pursuit of pain medication. He found a bottle, fumbled it open, and swallowed 3 of the small pills down his sandpaper-like throat. He leaned forward to rest his head against the cold porcelain of the sink, moaning. He felt Tara tap him on the shoulder, and gratefully accepted the beer she held out. He took a long swallow, resisted the urge to throw it back up, and downed the rest of the bottle in a few drinks. He sank back to the toilet, and sat with his head between his legs.

"Now Spike, what do you say?" she teased him.

"Unnumo fum bench," he said into his hands.

"What was that?" she asked, still with a small smile on her face.

He raised his head to look straight at her. He looked terrible.

"Unmerciful wench," he annunciated clearly, then sunk his head back between his legs. The pounding in his skull didn't block out the sound of Tara's quiet laughing as she left the room and shut the door behind her.

Forty minutes and a semi-refreshing shower later, Spike entered the kitchen to find Tara reading a biography on Frieda Kahlo and drinking a cup of…

"Tea?" Spike questioned, frowning.

Tara frowned, too, and looked up from her book. "You were supposed to buy groceries, Spike."

He glanced down, and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, bout that, pet…"

"Spike, please do not tell me you spent our grocery money on booze."

"I did not spend our grocery money on booze."

Tara sighed in relief.

"I spent my grocery money on booze. Yours is still in the Folger's can."

Tara sighed again, this time definitely not in relief.

"Spike, you spend too mu…" she started, but Spike interrupted.

"Tara, luv, we've had this conversation before. I'm fine, I just like to drink occasionally, is all."

"We'll talk about this later. Right now I can't get into it, I need to finish this chapter before class."

Spike knelt in front of her and tipped her chin up. "Tara, I'm fine. Really, I am. And if it means that much to you, I'll stop drinkin'."

"It's not for me, Spike, I just worry about you." Trying to lighten the mood, she gave a half smile. "If you weren't a spoiled little rich kid, you might very well be broke."

Spike grinned at her and kissed her on her head. "I may be a spoiled little rich kid, but you love me dearly. Gotta go, I'll buy groceries on the way back from the Coffee Shack, I promise. And my treat, since they're late."

He took off, and Tara looked after him, still worried, but she shook her head and went back to her book.

************

Spike really needed coffee. In addition to the hangover, he hadn't slept very well the night before. The reminder yesterday of his night with Buffy left him both with and intense desire to drink himself into a bloody stupor, and to go find her and shag her till she screamed. Once again, his mind wondered back…

Spike licked his lips unconsciously.

"Yeah, pet. I like it a lot."

Buffy's tongue flicked at his earlobe. "Want a closer look?"

"Yes I bloody well do!" he gasped out, and throwing some money on the bar to pay for their drinks, he grabbed Buffy and pulled her toward the door.

He got her home to his flat, and when they were inside, pushed her against the doorway. She could feel the bulge in his jeans pushing against her stomach, and she gasped out loud from the feel of it, until Spike covered her mouth with his. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and frantically she tangled hers against his until breath became an issue. She pulled away, panting, and bent her head to place open mouth kisses along his neck, as she simultaneously shoved his black leather duster off his body, to lie abandoned on the floor. His blue silk shirt soon followed.

"Cor, Buffy, I want you. Want you bad, baby," Spike groaned into her ear, his hands not stilling their assault even momentarily. He more than wanted it- he *needed* it.

He threw her coat on the floor next to his, and pulled her white tank top over her head. She was wearing only a lacy white bra and a short brown suede skirt, and Spike thought if he didn't have her naked and lying underneath him in his bed within the next five minutes, he was going to spontaneously combust.

Buffy curved her leg to rest against his hip and simultaneously pulled his shirt over his head, wanting so badly to feel his skin against hers. Spike leaned into the door, twisting his hips into hers as he did, eliciting a shocked gasp from her as his jean clad erection pushed against her right where she needed the pressure. She felt a flood of moisture escape between her legs, and pushed herself harder against him, not wanting the feeling to stop.

Their mouths met once more, and as Spike lifted her, Buffy's other leg came up as well, so that her legs were wrapped around his waist. Spike couldn't remember ever having been this hard in his life, and the little moaning sounds she made every time he kissed her…

"Have to get to the bedroom," Spike thought. "Just have to get… Oh my God, her hand's on my cock, Buffy's hand is on my cock." Aloud, all he could do was groan in pleasure.

Buffy continued to cup and squeeze him through the material of his jeans. "Want you in me," she whispered as Spike kicked open the door to his bedroom and brought her over to the bed. The next thing she knew, her shoes, skirt and bra and Spike's jeans had disappeared, leaving the only article of clothing between them a scrap of white lace passing for a thong. Buffy looked right at him, stilling any apprehensions he might have had that she was making love to his brother rather than him, and pushed the flimsy material down her smooth tanned legs. Eyes still locked with one another, Spike spread Buffy's thighs and began to make love to her. They both gasped as the feeling took them over.

Buffy's hips were coming up off the bed to meet his with every thrust, now, and every time he pushed in, he went deeper than Buffy had ever felt. "Oh, God, Spike, that feels…oh! I'm almost there, baby, just a little farther, oh, yes, Spike!!" With one last cry, Buffy came, muscles clasping tightly around Spike's penis, buried deep inside of her.

Spike lost all control as he felt Buffy's vaginal muscles, already holding him tightly, clamping even harder around him. With a few more wild thrusts, he followed Buffy over the edge, then collapsed on top of her. He rolled over onto his side to remove his dead weight, both of them too exhausted to move any further. Still connected intimately, they slept.