A/N: Reviews are great, thanks so much.  Also, I don't own anything mentioned in this chapter, movies included.  Well, I do own the DVD, but not them, you know what I mean.  Enjoy!

Also, a content disclaimer: this is your official warning not to read any further if you're not of age.  I tried to stay within the confines of an R rating and I think I did a pretty good job, but just to be on the safe side, you've been warned. 

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Chapter 17: Little Pink Houses

Buffy swallowed nervously and looked at Spike.  They'd had a wonderful night; dinner and then dancing at a little club Buffy never knew existed.  She wasn't the greatest dancer in the world, but Spike was, moving across the dance floor with a feline grace that Buffy envied.  He taught her a few simple steps, and they glided along the floor in unison, a striking couple that many stopped to look at. 

Now, however, now was a different story altogether.  They were leaving the club and Buffy knew that it was decision time.  Should she, or should she not?  It was running through her mind, plaguing her with wonderful feelings, but self-doubt too.  What if they did and she was horrible?  What it they didn't and Spike got mad at her like him.  What if, what if, what if, Buffy was ready to scream at all the what ifs floating in her head. 

Spike was having a similar problem to Buffy's.  Take her home and let her see my house?  It's not that big, surely she won't get suspicious.  Have to hid my case files, pictures and other stuff.  Have to stop this and tell Buffy the truth.  Spike wanted to tell her tonight, but an off-hand comment she said earlier made him bite his tongue.

Buffy was telling Spike funny stories from the happenings at the club.  They had talked about the various men who showed up at the club and Buffy had said "I think that they have way too much time on their hands.  I don't know if I could stand someone who was affluent enough to go to that club.  They all seem so snobby and stuck-up and I just want to scream at them 'YOU'RE IN A STRIP CLUB AND YOU BEING A PRICK', see their reaction to that.  It might be pretty funny." 

That had put a serious damper on Spike's intention to come clean with Buffy.  Now, he was unsure of what to tell her, and unsure of what in the hell to do next.  Should he invite her home?  His home was large, but not that large.  He deliberately modeled it the opposite of everything he'd grown up with, so the two-story, red-brick house was very down-to-earth and homey, but in an expensive neighborhood.  Buffy would know that he couldn't afford such a house on a waiter's salary.  Shit, what the bloody hell and I gonna do? 

So, Spike drove around.  He cruised the main drag and took a lot of circuitous, windy roads, meandering wherever felt right.  Buffy caught onto what he was doing and appreciated the gesture.  She sat back against the soft interior of his car and simply relaxed her body and mind.  Whatever the answer was, it would come to her. 

Eventually, Spike made his way into his neighborhood.  Buffy raised her eyebrows at the well-to-do community and let out a small gasp when Spike pulled up in his driveway. 

"This is where you live?" she asked in amazement.

"Family money," he said and shrugged. 

Buffy tried to make sense of the puzzle.  Something here was not quite right.  He could afford a home in this neighborhood, but he worked as a waiter in a restaurant?  I don't think so. 

"Spike, tell me something," Buffy began, "Why do you work if you have enough cash to qualify as 'family money'?"

Spike shrugged his shoulders.  Shit, think of something, mate, fast.  "Dunno, luv, just always wanted to contribute to society and all that.  Just because I have some money in my family doesn't mean that I'm nancyboy who doesn't want to or is afraid of work."  That part of it was true, anyway.  Spike never wanted people to say that he'd rested on his family's laurels and never done anything with his life.  He'd seen enough rich boys to know that if he ever turned into one, he shoot himself. 

Buffy knew he was holding something back, but she let it go, for now.  Right, act like you know what you're doing now, interrogate later. 

Spike opened the door and let Buffy into his house.  She stood in the doorway and looked around carefully.  To the left was a large living room and to the right looked to be a kitchen.  Spike nudged her inside and locked the door behind them.  Buffy raised her eyebrow at that and pointedly looked at the lock.

"I'll unlock it when I go to take you home.  For now, thought it would be nice to watch some movies, and I have paranoia about leaving the front door unlocked," he explained. 

Buffy nodded.  "Okay, give me the grand tour."

Spike laughed.  "Not much to show, but I will.  Let's go"

They walked into the living room.  It was large and airy, with two huge windows that overlooked a plush couch.  Matching chairs sat at opposite ends of the room, and against the wall adjacent to the windows was a large entertainment center, television, VCR, DVD player and a plethora of video gaming devices. 

Buffy held up a playstation two game and Spike just shrugged, "I'm a little boy at heart."

Buffy nodded and they continued the tour.  Through a door from the living room, they entered a small office, and through that was a staircase.  Upstairs was the master bedroom and some guest rooms, Spike explained.  He led Buffy back to the main room and crossed to the television.

"What do you feel like watching, luv?" he asked.

Buffy shrugged.  "I don't care, surprise me," she replied, walking into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was large, conservatively speaking.  There was a gleaming refrigerator and stove, surrounded by an oak counter and cupboards.  And island separated the kitchen from the dining room, and honing over the island was a vast array of pots, pans and other cooking implements.  The dining room housed another large window and a big oak table and chars.  A red checkered tablecloth was draped over the table, and a vase of flowers was in the middle.  To Buffy, who had been expecting more of a bachelor pad, this was something that closely resembled her house before they moved.  All it needed was a family.  She wondered what that reflected about Spike and then wandered back into the living room when he called her.

She flopped into a chair and looked at him.  "What are we watching?"

Spike pulled her to the couch and then situated himself behind her.  "A classic," he assured her. 

The opening credits to "Snatch" rolled onscreen and Buffy hit Spike with a pillow.  "This is a classic?" she asked. 

Spike acted miffed.  "Everything Guy Ritchie makes is a classic, so hush and let me watch the movie."

Buffy giggled at him, and then leaned back against his chest.  Spike put his arms around her and they tried to concentrate on the movie. 

Spike was in hell.  It was pure torment holding this precious woman in his arms and trying to will his body to not respond to her.  Every time she laughed, he had to grit his teeth, and when she shifted to get comfortable, Spike was forced to alphabetize his case list.  He was having a hard time paying attention to the wackiness ensuing onscreen between Tommy and Turkish.  Instead, he found himself breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair and rubbing his fingers across the velvet smoothness of her arms. 

Buffy had been paying attention to the movie, but the last time she shifted, she heard a soft groan.  She looked up at Spike and he was staring at the ceiling, eyes closed and mouth moving silently.  Buffy purposefully shifted again, and his mouth moved faster, chanting something over and over again.  His hands started to caress her arms and Buffy found her breathing become difficult.  She turned her attention back to the television, but kept getting distracted by Spike.  She could smell his scent, and feel his fingers stroking her flesh.  In a flash of insight and inspiration, Buffy turned around and made a very bold first step. 

The moment Buffy's body shifted, Spike opened his eyes and looked at her.  His goddess was looking at him with nothing but want and lust in her eyes.  His body replied by hardening and depriving Spike of any thought at all.  His eyes were riveted on Buffy as she slowly crawled up his body until they were face to face.  She settled her soft curves against his hard planes, surrounding his erection snugly with her heat.  They both moaned in unison and met in a frantic kiss. 

Spike begged for entrance to her mouth with his tongue and she eagerly granted it to him, pleasing them both.  He explored her mouth with his tongue and his hands mapped her body again, reacquainting himself with her curves and lines.  She moved restlessly against his body, hands dipping beneath his shirt to trace his rippled stomach, never once breaking the union of their mouths.

They did have to break apart to breathe, and this time, there was no separating to calm down and cool off.  Spike looked into Buffy's eyes and waited.  Buffy nodded, invitation clearly given.  Spike accepted and dove in. 

He pulled from the couch onto the thick carpeting of the floor.  So wild was he with need and lust that he didn't event think of taking her to the bedroom, it was way to far away at this point. 

Right now, Buffy could have cared less.  Spike's hands were roaming up and down her body, exiting her skin and leaving goose bumps where he touched.  Electricity was coursing through her and the throb that started at he junction of her thighs began to pulse harder.  Spike moved his lips from hers and roamed her face and neck, licking and nipping whatever flesh he found there.  Her pulse beat erratically against his lips and she squirmed beneath him, moving her hands across his back.  He leaned up and took his shirt off. 

Buffy's inner self squealed with delight.  Ohh, shirtless Spike.  Yummy.  She ran her hand across his back, feeling lean muscle and smooth skin.  Fresh arousal shot through her and she arched off the floor into Spike.  He growled deep in his throat and tugged at her sparkly top, finally nudging it off her body.  He haphazardly tossed it aside and focused on the beautiful sight of her breasts encased in lace and silk.  The delicate lilac bra she wore stood out against her skin and emphasized her heaving bosom.  Spike wasted no further time in contemplation of odes to her beauty; instead he pleasured her with hands, lips and teeth. 

Her bra went flying off and her bare breasts were open to Spike ravenous gaze.  He traced his fingers over and across, marveling at the responsiveness of her body to his touch.  Her nipples immediately pebbled and he leaned forward to take one into his mouth.  Buffy keened in pleasure and arched her back into his touch.  Spike gave the other breast equal attention and then moved down her flat stomach to her belly button.  He licked the quivering flesh and played with her piercing. 

"Oh, luv, what's this?  Buffy's got a bit of a bad streak in her, I'd wager," he murmured against her stomach. 

His voice and the vibrations made Buffy go wild.  She arched against him again and found herself babbling incoherently.  "Spike, need you, want you, so good, so good.  Oh God, oh God, oh God, Spike!"

The sound of his name rolling off her lips, her voice husky and clouded with passion and lust, was almost enough to drive Spike over the edge.  He frantically tugged her skirt off and her matching lilac thong.  Surveying the beauty before him, Spike gave God a silent word of thanks.  She writhed on the ground, bronze skin flushed and beading with sweat, head whipping from side to side and blonde hair flying out around her.  He ached to bury himself inside her, to fall into her heat and lose himself to her. 

Such overwhelming feelings made Spike's flee instinct flare, but he ignored it.  Instead, he pulled Buffy to him across the carpet and hooked her legs over his shoulders.  He moved down past her belly button and Buffy became alarmed. 

"Spike, what are you doing?" she whispered.

Spike looked up at her.  "'M gonna taste you luv.  I've been dying to since the first time I met you."

His eyes seemed black in the dimly lit room, and Buffy moaned at his words.  The first touch of his tongue almost sent her into orbit. 

As Spike worked magic on her body, Buffy called his name through broken sobs of pleasure.  "Spike, ohmigod, Spike!  Feels so good, never so good.  Spike, Spike, SPIKE!" Buffy wailed his name as she shattered into jagged pieces.  The room disappeared and Buffy was blind to everything but Spike's touch. 

Spike cradled her body against his as she slowly came down from the precipice.  She looked at him through dazed eyes, and Spike felt the fire flare deep within him.  He made quick work of his pants and socks, and pulled a condom from his wallet.  After slipping it on, he positioned himself at her opening and, looking deeply into her eyes, he surged in.  When he encountered her barrier and broke through it, Spike's eyes widened and almost popped out of his head. 

Jesus in heaven, she's a bloody virgin.  Bloody fucking hell, she's so hot and tight.  Keep it together mate, don't want to hurt the poor girl any more than you already have.  Stupid git, should have been gentler.  Bloody hell. 

Buffy's eyes filled with tears when the thin membrane broke.  That was it; she was no longer a virgin.  Her pain soon receded, and all she felt was Spike, filling her and stretching her like no one ever had before.  Ever.  It was a new feeling, yet magnificent and wonderful and the same time.  Spike was looking down at her and she managed a tremulous smile. 

"Bloody hell, luv.  I'm sorry, baby, just hold on for a minute," he gritted his teeth and slowly withdrew then entered again. 

Buffy's eyes bugged out of her head and she was brutally assaulted with a barrage of new sensations, all of them exquisite.  It was wonderful, this sense of feeling and completion.  It was animalistic and primal as well, the dance they were now sharing. 

Spike began to move faster, his body's needs starting to take over.  He tried to take it slow, but bloody hell, this inferno was griping him tightly and felt like he was being squeezed by silken glove. 

"Oh Christ, luv, you feel so good.  So tight, pet, and so damn hot.  Want to lose myself in your heat, feel you forever.  Buffy, Buffy, pet, sweet, luv," Spike felt himself falling by the wayside as his bodies demands pushed to the forefront. 

As the tempo increased, Buffy felt wonderful little pinpricks of sensations start to consume her.  The pinpricks turned into waves and her whole body began to shake and tremble, the heat rising within her.  Soon, she shattered again keening sharply and flying high on the intense feelings Spike provoked within her. 

Spike felt her topple and fall, and he let himself fall afterward.  His orgasm rocketed though his entire body and the force of it made him yell out loud and then collapse.  Never, in his entire life had he experienced something like that.  But, then again, never in his entire had he been with a virgin either. 

He rolled to his side, pulling Buffy with him.  He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his.  "Are you okay, luv?"

Buffy blushed slightly and smiled.  "I'm fine, a little sore, but fine.  That was wonderful, Spike," she said quietly. 

Spike felt his ego swell.  "Well, luv, I do try to satisfy," he said and smirked.  Buffy rolled her eyes and hit him with a pillow. 

"Luv," Spike said.

"What?" Buffy asked. 

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Spike asked softly. 

Buffy smiled at him.  "Only if we move to a bed," she teased. 

Spike's grin was lightening quick and boyishly eager.  "Nothing I want to do more that get you into my bed," he said and stood up. 

Buffy stood as well and surveyed the living room.  "Well, I guess I'll look for my clothes tomorrow," she said and shrieked at Spike picked her up.

"Trust me, luv, you're going to be too busy to worry about clothes," he assured her and carried her to his room. 

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Outside, in the bushes surrounding Spike's living room, a darkly clothed figure silently saluted the performance of the lovers.  A camera lens gleamed in the moonlight and the figure quietly walked to the front door and taped something up.  Then, he stealthily crept away from the house and toward a car parked down the street.  He chucked and the cold laugh echoed hollowly in the dark street around him.  Tomorrow was going to be a good day, a very good day indeed.