Mortal Allies Series

Episode 5

War and Roses

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 24: With a Cherry on Top

Chapter Notes:

As always, my thanks to MissLuci for always making things hotter and catching my mistakes. Any that remain are mine because obviously I fiddled.

And thanks to YOU for reading! I really appreciate all the comments and likes. Hope you're enjoying their date, because it continues...

-X-

"Joyeux anniversaire, Joyeux anniversaire, Joyeux anniversaire, Buffy, Joyeux anniversaire!"

Buffy blushed, but also smiled widely as several of the staff gathered around their table and sang one of the other few phrases she remembered from her French class to the familiar, if slightly more subdued, tune of 'Happy Birthday'.

The slice of cake they sat in the center of the table was enormous! There were twenty thin layers, alternating between devil's food cake and peanut butter mascarpone. The dark chocolate icing was topped with a layer of chocolate shavings and peanut brittle, and atop it all was a single, shiny, golden candle that burned brightly, just waiting for her wish.

Buffy remembered the wish she'd made during the National Hot Chocolate Day celebrations, 'Let me be enough'. That had worked. She'd been enough. She was enough, according to the handsome vampire who was watching her with those adoring blue eyes of his. Just looking at him sent shivers of anticipation down her spine. The kind of shivers that promised many more times of being more than enough for each other.

She closed her eyes and made a new wish, 'Let us have forever... let Spike be right, let my 'more than human-ness' be enough.' Picturing a lifetime and beyond with her vampire, and feeling only joy at the prospect, she opened her eyes and focused on the dancing flame.

She blew on the candle, sending her wish into the ether with the smoke that curled gently up into the night sky from the spent wick. The singers applauded and cheered, then disappeared beyond the topiary, leaving the couple alone.

"Joyeux anniversaire," Spike said, lifting his champagne glass up. "To many more."

Buffy picked up her glass and touched his. "And all just as perfect as this one," she added before they both took a sip, savoring the last of the bubbly.

"This is getting a little 'on the nose' though, don't you think... with the whole anniversaire thing?" she asked as she picked up the last fork from the cadre of silverware and began to contemplate a battle plan for the slaying of this masterpiece of culinary confectionary.

He pointedly looked around, then back at her, watching her with amusement as she tried to decide where to begin on the mountain of chocolate and peanut butter. "So far so good," he pointed out. "Apart from the devouring of that cake, don't see any other challenges in your immediate vicinity."

"Other than you, you mean?"

"Am I a challenge, then?"

"Well, you definitely need devouring..."

Spike grinned and curled his tongue over his teeth. "Do tell... love to hear your plan for that," he rasped thickly.

"Better still, I'll show you."

Spike's brows went up, scenarios popping into his mind like XXX-rated soap bubbles. Buffy on her knees under the table, his cock sliding down her throat. Buffy shoving him into the loo, lifting that skirt of hers and impaling her hot quim on his throbbing cock, fucking him to the edge before dropping to her knees and sucking him off. Buffy in the limo, bent over, her head bobbing in his lap, swallowing him down as they bumped over the Golden Gate Bridge. Buffy...

Buffy plucked the golden candle from the top of the cake, bringing a large section of frosting and chocolate shavings along with it. Keeping her eyes locked on Spike's, she began to lick up the length of the phallic symbol, beginning with the wick and making her way toward the treat at the other end. She took her time, trailing her tongue enticingly over the golden swirls etched in the wax.

He watched her intently, his unneeded breath coming in shallow gasps, his dick aching and throbbing in his pants, yearning for her tongue to be touching him like that. With slow deliberateness, Buffy caught a dab of the frosting on the tip of her tongue and, moaning in pleasure, she drew it in between her sweet lips.

"Bloody fuck," Spike swore quietly as she closed her eyes, clearly relishing the sweetness. He watched her throat move as she swallowed, and wanted nothing more than to have his teeth nibbling against her soft, warm flesh, feel her pulse thrumming against his lips.

"Sooo good," she cooed seductively as she began licking around the bottom edge of the frosting, trailing her tongue through it as she twirled the candle, circling the shaft with her sharp, pink tongue.

"Killin' me, Slayer," Spike groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

She smiled at him sweetly, licking a bit of frosting from the corner of her mouth. "That's my job... haven't you heard? The slaying of big... bad... vampires," she teased, her voice thick with innuendo and seduction. She sucked the end of the candle into her mouth and hummed her pleasure as she cleaned every drop of creamy frosting from its surface.

A low growl rumbled from Spike's throat. "Least you could do is give me a proper sendoff with those lips around my cock 'stead of that hunk o' wax."

Buffy smiled and pulled the candle from her lips with an audible smack of her lips. "Don't worry... that was just the practice squad. I'll get to the first string soon enough."

She couldn't resist pressing her bare foot against his crotch again, feeling the hardness beneath the thin trousers of his tux. Was it wrong of her to feel a thrill knowing that she'd done that to him, she turned him on so much, she made him hard and horny in the middle of a restaurant…well, okay, so it wasn't the middle, out here on the terrace was more restaurant adjacent and it wasn't even crowded overlooking the water, it was actually quite secluded and romantic, and what if she did more than touch him with her foot? What if she scooted her chair around and slipped her hand beneath the table? Would anyone notice?

"Ya left 'soon enough' 'bout two exits back, pet," he insisted, laying his hand over the arch of her foot, and pressing down harder.

She giggled and picked up her fork, deciding that, for now, she was content to tease him from the other side of the table, maybe next time they ate together she would be bold enough to try the same with her hand… unless it was at home under the watchful eyes of her mom, and then there would be no sexy under the table touches… well, not too many.

"I have a cake to slay," she reminded him. "So much cake. It could take hours for me to defeat this monster," she teased.

"Sod that," Spike grumbled, picking up his own fork and digging into one side as she began on the other.

"You certainly are brave or incredibly stupid—coming between a woman and her chocolate," she declared, lifting a forkful of twenty layers of heaven to her lips.

"Men have been known to be both when their dicks are hard," he admitted. "'Sides, got tickets to show off my girl at the theatre, don't I?"

As the divine confection began infusing their taste buds with heavenly flavor, they both moaned around the delicious cake at the same time, their eyes closing in bliss as the silky creaminess of the peanut butter blended perfectly with the crunch of the peanut brittle, and the moist devil's food danced in perfect synchronization with the crispness of the chocolate shavings.

"Oh. My. God," Buffy breathed like an actual prayer, her eyes wide, locked on Spike's.

They both grinned and said as one, "Best thing I've ever had in my mouth."

They laughed and stabbed their forks back into the colossus, working together to slay the heavenly creation.

-X-

Buffy was walking on air. No, she was walking on clouds. Clouds of butterflies, all bright and fluttering and joyful. Clouds of butterflies soaring aloft on warm zephyrs of love!

She was so in love! And the world hadn't ended! Double-bonus!

With their clasped hands, she pulled Spike to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, making the other pedestrians curve around them, like they were a stone in a stream. She cupped his face between her hands, and proclaimed, "I love you! I love you! I love you!" punctuating each declaration with a fast, emphatic kiss to his mouth.

"Love you back, Slayer," he replied when she seemed to be finished. "If I'd known fancy French food had that effect on ya, would've brought you ages agp."

Floaty-Buffy was smiling so broadly her cheeks hurt. "Not the food... though that was sooo good," she said, releasing the grip she'd had on his face. "Check out Buffy in love with no world-endage!" she continued, throwing her arms out wide and twirling in a circle, which drew some amused, and some not-so-amused looks from passersby as they dodged her twirling arms. She stopped, facing Spike again. "And check out my big, bad, handsome, sweet, hot vampire boyfriend making with the loving me back."

"Always, pet... always," he vowed reverently, returning the gesture of holding her face in his hands and pulling her in for a long, lingering kiss. He wished they had time to call the limo back for a decent shag in the back, or even time for an indecent shag in a dark alleyway, Slayer willing, but the show would be starting soon, and they were still a couple of blocks away.

The walk from the restaurant to the theater wasn't long, but Buffy had window-shopped along the way, holding his hand, and rambling on about the motley sundries in the shops, everything from handbags to hand-grenades. Well, perhaps not literally, but it seemed so at times. Spike had just taken it in, lost in the bliss of her, in her energy, in the way she gripped his hand and regaled him with her shopping-on-a-budget secrets and strategies.

"Oh! Postcards!" she'd declared giddily at one hole-in-the-wall dragging him into the tourist trap filled with cheap California trinkets, most stamped with the ubiquitous 'Made in China' label. "I have to send the guys postcards!"

"We'll be back 'fore they even get them," he pointed out as she dropped his hand and began perusing the racks of colorful cardboard.

"That's sooo not the point," she argued, plucking cards from the little holders, one for each of her mates... plus some. Her mum, maybe? Watcher? Lydia?

He looked up and caught her reflection in the security mirror on the wall. The dichotomy of it struck him—his fierce, gorgeous Slayer in her elegant evening dress standing in a sea of artificial mediocrity. She was always pure, vibrant and alive, but in this setting she seemed a true temptress, a glowing goddess in a land of dull, uninspired trifles.

"What?" she asked, drawing the word out coyly, as she looked up to see what Spike was looking at. "Do I have chocolate on my dress? Green stuff in my teeth?"

Spike shook his head. "Just thinking how lovely you look, pet."

Buffy bit down on a smile and blushed. "You don't look too bad yourself... very GQ with a side of James Bond."

Spike chuckled and turned his attention to the spinning racks she was still perusing, remembering all the postcards he'd looked at in Mexico, searching for the perfect card for her. He spied one of the Golden Gate Bridge at night, taken from Fort Dodge, where they'd danced under the stars. When Buffy turned the display around, he snagged one of those and surreptitiously slid it into his jacket pocket, unworried about the security mirror that he didn't show up in. He missed his duster, though, as it made shoplifting so much easier with its copious pockets.

When she had a handful of cards, she looked up at him. "Did you want any?" she asked, waving her free hand at the souvenirs.

"Don't have anyone t' send any to, do I?"

A small pout appeared on her lips, but then smoothed over just as quickly. "I guess... I can sign these from both of us," she offered.

"Did ya get one for Peaches?" he asked.

"No, I'm not that vindictive," she scoffed.

"I am," he asserted, spinning the cards around again. "See any that say, 'Fuck you, wanker!' on them?"

"No." Buffy slapped his hand away. "C'mon, there's going to be lateness and I don't want to miss anything." She grabbed the hand she smacked and pulled him along with her to pay for the cards... well her cards. His remained in his pocket—he was still evil, after all. Then they were off again, this time with a bit more urgency after she caught sight of the time on a wall clock that had the words 'Summer of Love' adorning the face in a groovy, tie-dye font.

-X-

Buffy's steps sped up as the theater came into view, her eyes drawn to the Baroque-inspired façade. "Oh, Spike! It's like... like those cathedrals in France or something," she gushed, pulling him to a stop across Market Street from the theater, her eyes drawn up to the intricate terracotta reliefs of cherubs, dancing muses, and ornate columns over the entrance.

Her eyes were sparkling when she looked back at him. "I'm sensing a theme here. French food, French architecture... I'm surprised we aren't seeing Les Mis."

Spike took a drag on his fag and shrugged. He'd honestly had no idea about the theater, he'd just been looking for something musical he thought she'd enjoy in San Francisco. "Could skip this and come back another time, I reckon," he offered, squinting up at the lavish decorations, which did, indeed, remind him of some cathedrals he'd been in. Of course, the fanciful marble carvings were generally splattered in crimson blood and dripping entrails like some kind of Jackson Pollock meets Salvador Dali meets Michelangelo art display by the time he, Dru, Darla, and Angelus left.

"What? No!" Buffy protested immediately. The light changed and she tugged him forward into the crosswalk. "I want to see 'Cats'... and also come back again another time."

He dropped the butt-end in the street as he was pulled along in her wake, her excitement infectious. He was reminded of that last opera he'd taken Dru to down in Mexico City. The way his sire had gushed over the building, her childlike glee. He wasn't sure how to feel about that; a mixture of guilt for thinking about Dru while holding Buffy's hand, surprise at how Buffy—a glowing angel—could remind him of his dark princesses in any way, and a sense of satisfaction that he could bring them both such joy with such a simple deed, even if, in neither case, had he known anything about the building's architecture prior to arrival.

"This is so cool," Buffy continued to gush, running a hand over some of the carvings that extended down to the street level as they neared the doors to the theater, slowed by other patrons queuing up to enter. They were worn from who knows how many thousands of hands doing exactly the same thing, but despite their rounded edges, the sheer volume of the sculpted adornments was impressive. "Have you ever seen such a fancy theater before? I mean, churches, yeah, even some mausoleums, but a theater?"

Spike flashed back to Mexico City again, but shook his head. "Can't say as I have," he lied, looking up at the fanciful façade to avoid her eyes. He really didn't want to talk about Mexico City now.

"It's done in the Plateresque style, originally from Spain," an older woman in front of them interjected, turning to look up at the building. "The style appeared between the late Gothic and early Renaissance in the late 15th century and used widely through the Spanish territories. It was reintroduced to the Americas in the early twentieth century at an architectural convention in San Diego."

The Slayer bit her lip, looking at the woman, who was probably her mom's age, about Spike's height, with the slim build of a swimmer. Her silver hair was in a cute, 'Jamie Lee Curtis' pixie style, and she was dressed more casually than Spike and Buffy, in a lilac blouse and dark pants. "I thought it was French," Buffy admitted.

The woman gave her an understanding, motherly look. "Understandable. They certainly don't build them like this anymore, do they? It's wonderful to see young people appreciating historical architecture."

"Yeah, it's very... umm... pretty."

The woman smiled. "If you like this, you'll love the inside," she told Buffy, turning and moving forward with the line. As she reached the door a moment later, she looked back and said, "Enjoy the show."

"You too," Buffy replied before her silver hair disappeared into the throng.

The woman wasn't wrong.

"Wow, Spike, look," Buffy breathed, gazing up at the high, vaulted ceiling of the lobby. Everything about this place was immense and opulent, a feast for the eyes. The ceiling was supported with rich, arched wooden stanchions that had intricate designs carved in them. There was more of the Spanish bas-reliefs on the high walls, framing arched doorways that lead to the theater itself.

"Gorgeous," he agreed.

When she looked at him, Spike wasn't looking up, but at her. Buffy rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. "You aren't even looking."

"Looking at the most beautiful thing in the world," he asserted, reaching out to touch her cheek, which blushed hotly beneath his fingers.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she teased, letting her eyes drift down his tuxedo-clad body, lingering below his belt, then slide back up.

Spike curled his tongue over his teeth, grinning devilishly. "Will it, then?" He leaned in, his lips a hair's breadth away from her ear. "Have I told ya how your eyes sparkle, how your skin glows, how your hair shines, how perfect your tits are, like ripe fruit begging to be devoured...?" As he spoke, he trailed his fingers down over her jaw to the luscious curve of her bare neck, then along her strong shoulder. When he reached the round ball of muscle at the top of her arm, he feathered his fingertips along the top of her dress, tracing it in toward the sunstone necklace that hung alluringly between her cleavage.

Buffy shivered. "Don't. Stop," she demurred coyly. "I mean it, don't stop," she sighed, letting her eyes flutter closed in pleasure.

He slid his hand up behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss in the center of the elegant lobby as people surged around them. A couple of other patrons gave them wistful smiles, as if remembering what it felt like to be that in love, but they paid none of it any heed, lost in each other, in the feel of their tongues swirling tenderly around their lover's, their lips joined in bliss, their bodies humming with desire.

Suddenly, the lights flashed off and on, breaking them from the trance of the kiss. They both pulled back, panting lightly, their eyes fluttering open and locking on the other's.

"We should, ummm..." Buffy suggested, waving a hand toward the doors on the end of the lobby as everyone around them began moving more purposely toward the theater.

Spike leaned in next to her ear and whispered, "Gonna pick this up again later, see just how far flattery will get me."

She ducked her head, grinning as she turned, took Spike's hand, and headed for the door.

-X-

"Oh, Spike..." Buffy gushed reverently as they emerged onto the theater's mezzanine level, playbills in hand suddenly forgotten. The inside of the Orpheum was just as ornate and awe-inspiring as the front and the lobby. The walls, floor to ceiling, were decorated in more of the intricate Plateresque style of terracotta reliefs, looking a lot like a gothic cathedral, and the ceiling was a glittering spiderweb of delicate lights. The whole effect was to make the inside appear to be outside, perhaps in a town square in fifteenth-century Barcelona.

Spike took it all in. He had to agree that it was impressive, and it again made him think of the theater in Mexico City and of Dru. Of how she would've loved this, just like Buffy did.

"How do you think they dust all that?" she asked as people pressed past them, heading for their seats.

Spike barked out a laugh as an usher came up to show them their seats. "Dust-eating demons?" he suggested, handing the young man their tickets.

"Really? Are there dust-eating demons?" she asked in a whisper as they followed the usher to the front row of the mezzanine. The man shone his little light on two empty seats in the center before handing their tickets back to Spike.

"Dunno," Spike admitted as he waved the yellow and black playbill, motioning for Buffy to precede him.

"If there are, we should get one for your house," she suggested then she began murmuring "Excuse us," to the already seated patrons while making her way along the narrow space to their seats.

Spike chuckled. "Look into it, I will," he promised as he followed her, taking care to not step on anyone's toes, though he could feel his demon protesting. Stepping on toes in a theater was just one of those things evil vampires did, right before you ripped the throats out of anyone who complained.

He looked over at Buffy, her silky hair twisted up in a knot at the back of her head, and thought of taking it down later, of running his fingers through it as it cascaded around her tan shoulders, and the impulse to grind a heel onto someone's instep was immediately quelled. 'Keep that in mind, wanker... you love her just as much as I do,' Spike admonished his demon as they reached their seats and settled in.

Buffy took his hand, twining her fingers between his, as she looked around the impressive space, taking it all in. He watched her, sitting forward in her seat, eager and excited, and his heart nearly burst with joy. He wished that this venue had private boxes, because, Christ, how he wanted to taste her pretty quim right now—he knew she'd taste like sunshine and joyous wonder mingled in with that Slayer power and womanly desire. He settled for touching a soft kiss right where her shoulder and neck met, making her shiver beneath his lips.

"Love you, Buffy," he whispered against her warm skin.

She graced him with that enthralling smile of hers, the one that made his heart melt, and squeezed his hand. "I love you, too, baby," she replied just as the house lights dimmed.

-X-

Buffy laughed. Buffy cried. Buffy tapped her toes and danced in her seat. She sang along quietly with some of the songs, and marveled at the dances and the dancers. When Rum Tum Tugger, the curious cat, came on, singing his number about his 'disobliging ways', she leaned in to whisper to Spike, "That's you as a cat."

He turned and growled against her neck, "Definitely catch me in it right up to my ears in you, pussycat." Agreeing with Rum Tum Tugger as the cat sang, "If you offer me cream then I sniff and sneer, but I only like what I find for myself. So you'll catch me in it right up to my ears, if you put it away on the larder shelf."

She laughed, lifting her shoulders, warding off the tickling shivers of his rumbling lips against her ear. "Bad kitty!" she teased, her eyes glittering in the theater lights as she met his gaze.

"Very bad kitty," he agreed, blue eyes bright as they flashed wide for a heart-stopping moment while his wicked tongue curled over his teeth.

"Rrrr," Buffy growled at him, pressing his hand down onto her thigh, just below the hem of her skirt and releasing it.

Her Big Bad Kitty drew tingling curlicues on her inner thigh with his fingertips, working his way up higher and higher until Buffy's hand came down, stopping his assent. He looked at her and she tilted her head to the man sitting on the other side of her, whose eyes were no longer on the stage, but in Buffy's lap.

Spike considered tossing him over the railing and watching him splatter and break on the seats below, but decided that would probably interrupt the show, and Buffy was enjoying it, so there should be no interruptions. He reluctantly withdrew his hand, sliding back down toward her knee at a glacial pace, pulling her skirt with him as he did. He needed t' find a theater with private boxes next year.

-X-

"That really gives 'cat suit' a whole new meaning, doesn't it? Did you see the way they slunk and prowled when they walked? It totally reminded me of you! Do you think you were a cat in a past life? Like, not a cuddly kitty cat—though you can be very cuddly—but I think you were a panther or something. Don't you?"

"Uh..." Spike tried to answer, but Buffy just kept talking excitedly over him, clutching the soft, furry Rum Tum Tugger doll in her hands as they waited at the curb for their limo to make its way up the line of taxis and other limos in the pick-up queue.

"And the makeup! How did they keep the makeup from smearing and running with sweat? I mean, they had to be sweating, right?"

"Reckon—"

"But I didn't even see any spots on their cat suits! I'd love to know what kind of antiperspirant they were using. I would totally buy it. Or do you think it's some kind of magical fabric that doesn't show sweat? Oh! Maybe I could get Willow to check on that."

"Not sure that's..."

"Same with the makeup. It's so annoying when my makeup gets smudged by some oafish vampire. I mean, they know they're gonna dust, why do they have to rake their grimy hands over my face and mess up all my hard work?"

"Inconsiderate that way, we are..." he agreed as their limo pulled up and he opened the door for her.

Buffy slid in, still talking. "Oh! Did you see that double person cartwheel thingy? That was sooo cool! Do you think we could do that? I think we could do that... I could totally get back on the cheerleading squad with that move..."

"Not doing any sodding cartwheels!" he objected, settling in next to her on the wide, leather seat and pulling the door closed as the driver pulled away.

"This makes me want to take dance lessons again! I took tap and ballet when I was, like, four or five, but then I started skating and I didn't have time for dancing so much. Oh, man, I still don't have time for dance lessons! Argh! That's so annoying. Maybe we could make sparring like a ballet—we could totally feed two birds with one scone that way! What do you think? You in a leotard..."

"Not a ponce. Don't wear bloody tights!"

"... me in a tutu?"

Spike arched a brow at her. "Just a tutu?"

Buffy grinned devilishly, finally taking a breath. "Maybe we could practice that double cartwheel thing," she suggested coyly, dragging one perfect red nail over the bulge in his pants. "It'd be like '69' with acrobatics. We could invent our own position to put in the Kama Sutra."

"Sounds brilliant, pet. But I'm not wearing any sodding tights," he contended.

"We'll see..." she teased, laughing, as the limo slowed and pulled to a stop in front of a restaurant drive-through menu board.

"Night cap," Spike told her, tilting his head toward the lighted sign outside her window.

Buffy's brows furrowed, then went wide. "Ghirardelli's?!" she exclaimed in glee, bouncing in her seat even as she touched the button to roll her window down. "Oh my God! This is..."

She turned back to Spike with tears glittering in her eyes. "You're the best, you know that?"

Spike suppressed a poncy grin with a satisfied smirk. "'Course I am. Why you love me, innit?"

Buffy brushed her fingertips over his handsome face. "It is," she agreed, before turning back to the menu and scanning the offerings. It all looked amazing, but she went with the 'World Famous Hot Fudge Sundae' and an iced mocha. "What do you want?" she asked him.

Spike ordered a 'Marshmallow Hot Fudge Sundae' and a caramel latte. They got their driver, a cheerful Hawaiian bloke named Jerry, a large coffee and a brownie. Buffy thought he deserved a lot more for getting the limo around the curve in the drive-thru line without taking down any signposts and only jumping one curb, but that was all he said he wanted.

"Where are we going now?" she asked Spike when they were settled back in, the privacy window between them and Jerry back in place.

"It's a surprise, innit?" he replied as he lifted the cherry from the top of his sundae by the stem and held it up to her.

Buffy ran her tongue over her lips, her eyes bright and as sexy as he'd ever seen them, then opened her mouth and slid her sharp little tongue out invitingly. Spike placed the bright red cherry on it and watched her suck it slowly back into her mouth, plucking it from the stem, which remained in his fingers. She moaned and closed her eyes as she rolled the cherry around with her tongue and teeth, parting her lips so he could watch her make love to it. Then she captured the glistening orb with her front teeth and bit down, juice trickling tauntingly over her kissable lips.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered, the rest of his sundae forgotten, as he licked the cherry's blood-red spendings from her skin.

Her soft moan of pleasure deepened as they kissed, the taste of chocolate and cherries mingling with their own special flavors, rekindling the fires of desire that had been banked, waiting for a bellows to reignite them.

"Speaking of cherries," Buffy murmured shyly, glancing at the screen between them and Jerry, then back to Spike. "I've never had sex in a limo before..."

Spike half-growled, half-groaned his response to that. He set his sundae down on the minibar next to their drinks, and pressed the intercom button that connected them with Jerry. "Take the scenic route, yeah? A bit of a tour o' the city?"

"Sure thing, boss," the driver replied cheerfully before Spike broke the connection between them and met Buffy's eyes, his teeth closed on his full bottom lip.

"Can he... I mean, he can't see us, right? O-or hear us?" she stammered, nerves and need battling inside her.

"Only if ya want him to," Spike purred suggestively, bobbing his brows. "Want an audience?"

Buffy was surprised by the surge of exactment that jolted through her at the suggestion, but she shook her head, chewing her bottom lip adorably.

"Oi! Jerry! Can ya hear me?" Spike called loudly.

Buffy turned and looked toward the driver, listening carefully for a reply, but none came.

Spike raised his brows, tilting his head in a little shrug when she turned back to him. "Seems we're alone, pet."

She grinned and set her sundae down next to Spike's, though she looked slightly torn about that. There was no time to linger on sundae melt-age, though, as they both dove back into a fervent kiss. Buffy pulled her skirt up around her hips and straddled Spike's lap as he sat back in the rich leather seat. Their hands roamed over formalwear, silky fabric forming a frustrating barrier between them.

"Need you inside me, now, please," Buffy begged, reaching for the button on his trousers. They fumbled frantically with their clothing, she concentrated on his pants, and he on the thin slip of wet lace that barely covered her sweet quim.

Spike's cock sprung free, and his hips jerked, thrusting into her hot hand. "Fuck, Buffy... want you, need you... bloody hell," he rasped as she lifted her hips and guided him to her throbbing opening. Spike pulled the scrap of lace that guarded her heaven aside and she lowered down, their eyes locked on each other as she took him in, inch by tantalizing inch.

"Love how wet you are for me. Fuck, Buffy..." Spike groaned out as her hot, eager cunt pulsed around his glans as he slipped inside her. "Any idea how bloody amazing you are? What you do to me? How much I want to bury myself in your hot, slick quim all the bloody time? Wish there was a way for my tongue and my cock to be there together... tasting you and fucking you all at once. Christ, woman, what you do to me."

Buffy stopped there, with just the head of his cock stretching her opening, as she felt a renewed flush of confidence glitter inside her, the voice of her old demon being ground into ashes beneath the exuberant words of her lover. "On a sex-goddess scale of one to ten, what would you give me?"

Spike did that sexy, smirky thing with his lips, his blue eyes dancing in the fairy lights that peppered the ceiling of the limo like stars. His hands slid up her thighs, squeezing her ass and sending more tingling fires flaring in her core. "Reckon I'd have to give you about a bloody million on that scale, pet."

She grinned proudly as her hands closed around his beautiful face, holding him tight and lowering her mouth to his. She kissed him desperately and began to take him deeper inside her yielding channel, feeling every twitch and throb of his prick as it tugged at her sensitive flesh. Every engorged vein sent ripples of pleasure through her as it slipped past her tight corona into her hot, slick depths. Buffy rolled her hips, moaning into his mouth as his prick slid in and out, a slow, delicious seduction, filling her with blissful waves of pleasure.

It was all Spike could do to keep from thrusting up, flipping her over, and burying himself in her slick, hot cunt, driving her hips hard into the leather seat with every thrust, but what she was doing to him was the very best kind of luscious torture. Her opening throbbed around him, squeezing and releasing in a dizzying rhythm. The supple walls of her channel fluttered and rippled in a velvet grip around his length as she took him deeper and deeper. And the cherry on top was the taut lace of her knickers that rubbed up and down his length as she moved.

"God, I love you," he breathed when she broke the kiss with a gasp for air.

"Love... you," Buffy panted back as Spike reached up and pulled the pins and combs out of her updo, letting her golden hair tumble around her bare shoulders. Buffy shook it out, relishing the feeling of every silky strand as it grazed over her bare shoulders and down her back.

"So beautiful," he murmured, running his hands through her long mane, letting it flow like water through his long, graceful fingers. "Never thought I'd see heaven... was wrong."

Buffy squeezed her inner muscles around his cock, still rolling her hips up and down his length and Spike's eyelids fluttered, his unneeded breath catching in his chest.

"Fuck, pet..." he swore as he tugged the bodice of her fancy dress down, exposing her pert nipples, which in that moment looked like perfect cherries ripe for the devouring. More delicious than anything that ever graced an ice cream treat. Spike made a quick mental note to pop another sex cherry by introducing food play. Imagining his Slayer covered in whipped cream with a few strategically placed body shots, made him lean forward hungrily to wrap his lips around her ripe and ready nipples. Buffy clutched his shoulders and threw her head back as his mouth closed on one, flicking his tongue over the sweet treat before sucking down. His hand fondled the other exposed tit as she rode his cock, the movement of the car as it stopped or accelerated, or turned a corner, adding force to her rhythm or altering the tempo.

"Spike, baby... never dreamed... only hoped, but... couldn't believe it would be like this. Tell me... tell me how I make you feel."

He kissed a line of icy fire up from her breast, over her delicate collarbone, to her graceful neck. "Feel like heaven, you do. Close as I'll ever get... more than I ever dreamed I'd feel," he murmured against her heated skin. "The way you fuck me, Christ, woman... want to be buried in you every bloody second of every day. Buffy, you are a fucking goddess... so tight, so hungry, so bleedin' perfect. When you squeeze me... Fuck! Yeah, like that! Can barely hold back... turn me into a bloody schoolboy about to bust his first nut. And when you cum, writhing and cursing and screaming my name ... makes me feel..."

Buffy pulled back and looked at him when he paused, her hips stilling, his cock buried to the hilt inside her. "What, baby... tell me."

Spike took a deep breath, his eyes closing as if he couldn't hold her gaze another moment, his luscious lashes fluttering, seeming even darker against his light skin. "Makes me feel loved... like a man..." He blinked his lids open and looked deeply into her eyes. "Like a man who might be worthy of you."

Her head tilted, her expression as soft and loving as he'd ever seen. "Let me show you how worthy you are," she replied before leaning in and whispering against his ear, "Gonna cum for you... I want you to... I mean, un, want your, uh... stuff filling me up."

Spike's chuckle filled the limo, a sound like rich, dark chocolate.

"What? Shut up!" she pouted, smacking him lightly on the chest.

"My stuff? If you can swallow it, should be able t' name it, pet. Spunk? Jizz? Cum? Cream? Ball batter? Nut butter? Willymilk? Clam sauce? Cock snot?"

"Seriously! If you want it ever swallowed again, you'll stop now."

Spike cupped her face with his palms, his expression a mixture of amusement and adoration. "Love you so bloody much," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. "Gonna fill you up with my jizz as you milk my balls with that tight cunt of yours and pour your hot, slick cum all over my cock... that sound okay to you?"

"Very okay," she agreed breathlessly as their lips met and Buffy began moving her hips against him again.

They kissed and whispered dirty, loving words against each other's skin, as if tattooing their desire there for the world to see. Their bodies moved together, becoming ever more frantic and needy as the car swayed and bumped, adding to their motion. Buffy's tits bounced enticingly with every pothole, and Spike's mouth latched onto one hard nipple, his hand on the other as she moaned her pleasure, arching her back as she rode his cock harder and faster with each passing moment. Spike's free hand slid between them, and pressed the rough lace that grazed his slick shaft against her clit.

"Oh god, oh Spike! Yes... fuck, yes... cum... cum with me... fuck... cumming... cumming... love... you! Fuck! Yessss!" she hissed, sotto voce, desperately holding back the scream that she wanted to let loose.

Her body spasmed atop him, her pussy undulating around him wildly, squeezing and releasing his cock as her cum exploded from her core. Spike jerked his hips up into her again and again, and once more before he joined her, gasping her name as he shot his stuff into her deepest depths, filling her to overflowing.

"Oh god, oh god... oh, Spike," Buffy panted, collapsing against him, her chest heaving, her muscles twitching with small electrical shocks that jumped from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes and everywhere in between, making her whole body tingle with satisfied completion.

Spike wrapped his arms around her and held her tight enough to break ribs if she'd been anyone but the Slayer. But she was the Slayer. His strong, sexy, amazing woman, and holding her so desperately only made her sigh and whisper her love against his neck as they both floated in the afterglow of touching heaven.

As the car continued its trek, their embrace finally relaxed, and the world came back into focus. Without losing their most intimate connection, Spike reached over and retrieved their sundaes, one by one. Buffy sat back dreamily, taking the mostly melted dairy from him. She plucked the cherry from the swirl of chocolate and vanilla, and held it up to Spike.

"Another cherry broken," she rasped, her voice rough from holding back her scream.

He grinned and opened his mouth, slipping his tongue out and taking the offering as she'd done earlier. When he bit down on the bright red fruit, spilling its juice over his lips, Buffy kissed him softly, licking the sweet nectar from his mouth.

"How many of your sweet cherries you gonna let me pop, luv?" he asked when she pulled back.

Buffy smiled, looking down at her sundae and scooping out some of the liquid goodness. "All of them... how does all of them sound? How many do you think that is?" she asked, not lifting her head, but looking up at him through her lashes.

Spike curled his tongue over his teeth, his eyes wide as he contemplated this. "Could be... millions."

It was Buffy's turn to widen her eyes. "Millions? How do ya figure? Name some..."

"Was thinkin' I'd like to make a Buffy sundae with whipped cream. Would write 'MINE' in big capital letters all over your scrumptious tits and luscious quim, then I'd use my tongue to clean it off and start all over again."

"Mmm, I'd like to make a Spike sundae too," she said as she tried to scoop the milky chocolate into her mouth without spilling.

"Get no complaints from me." Spike slurped a bit of his melted cream.

"What else?" Buffy prompted, licking a bit of the creamery confection from the corner of her mouth.

Spike's eyes sparkled. "Well, let's see... ever fucked at the top of the Eiffel Tower? Or on a submarine? Or in a hot air balloon? What about in a treehouse or a cave? An airplane? Get ya into the mile-high club, we will. On a train, a beach, in a pyramid, or on a mountain. In the rain, in the snow, on a sailboat in a hurricane..."

Buffy laughed, swallowing her cool, but no longer cold, treat. "Is there anywhere you won't have sex?"

Spike's eyes rolled up and to the right a moment, this tongue poking out adorably as he thought. "In a bear den... or a bear cage, a bear trap, or the bear exhibit at the zoo—"

"I'm sensing a theme," she giggled and they both began to drink their sundaes, giving up on trying to spoon out the liquid.

After they'd both finished their melted treats, she grew serious and asked, "I feel like... like you're all with the popping of cherry Buffy, but I don't get to do any popping of Spike cherries."

"Not true, luv," he assured her. "You've popped the biggest cherry of 'em all."

Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head curiously. "What with the huh?"

Spike set his empty container down and cupped her face gently. "You gave me your love, Buffy. First person t' ever... ever to return it. You popped the cherry on my heart."

"Aw, baby." Buffy suddenly felt as melty as her sundae had been. She put her container down next to Spike's and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his tuxedo-clad shoulders, pressing her bare breasts against the stiff fabric of his shirt, and held him tight.

Spike's arms snaked around her waist as he settled his head on her strong shoulder with a contented sigh. They stayed that way, locked in each other's embrace, as the car hummed along, the lights of the city dashing past outside like the stars of distant galaxies, far away from their world, which, in that moment, had a population of only two hearts.

-X-

Chapter End Notes:

I hope you've enjoyed their date night! It's not over yet, of course. More to come!

Manip of Spike and Buffy in a limo by PaganBaby

The write-up on the cake from the site where I found it: This cake is seriously GIANT! The skyscraping 20 Layer Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake features alternating layers of devil's food cake and peanut butter mascarpone to satisfy anyone's sweet tooth. It's made with high-end Valrhona chocolate and filled with peanut butter cream, and it's the perfect ending to a luxurious and romantic meal. Pair it with peanut brittle for the full experience!

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer Double Cartwheel can be found on YouTube

Orpheum Theatre (San Francisco) can be found on Wikipedia

Ghirardelli's does have a drive-through according to the website, but I couldn't find an actual picture of it, so no real clue if a limo would make it through... poetic license taken.