Anya frowned, perplexed at the two twenty dollar bills and several singles that she'd found wedged beneath a crystal ball on the countertop.

"Who left this?" she demanded, shaking the loot in midair.

"Left what?" Xander asked absently, toying with a Mongolian monkey paw.

On an intuitive whim, Anya pivoted to inspect the cabinet behind her... and smirked. Completely cleaned out.

"Oh, nothing."

Shaking her head, she scribbled in the sales book, Jasmine body oil - 6 bottles @ $6.98 - REORDER!! while mumbling, "Just a couple of crazy kids."

* * *

"Slippery," Buffy said with a wide grin as she slid into Spike's lap.

"The oil?" He plunged two fingers inside her. "Or you?"

Her breath hitched. "I love your hands."

"That all you love?" he said with a tongue curl and a penetrating gaze.

"Spike--" She readied the 'too much pressure' speech, but apparently he'd had something else in mind.

His fingers extracted, he'd gripped her waist and maneuvered her over his erect cock.

She grasped his slick length to guide it home. When she hit the hilt, her head circled back sensually and dipped forward until their foreheads touched. "Definitely love this."

"Kiss me," he said.

She pressed her oil-tinged lips against his, their tongues mingling while he helped her bounce softly, skin on skin, body to body... face to face.

Gaining speed, Buffy cooed and moaned into his mouth. His fingers roamed up and down her back, her breasts, her hips, her clit...

After she cried out in orgasm, he shoved her onto her back against the pillows and quilts gracing his crypt floor, and drove into her deeply, violently.

"Really, really love this," she said.

"I love you," he said in time with his thrusts. "I love you, Buffy. I... love... you."

"Yes," she encouraged, natural lubricant welling with each fervent proclamation. "Yes!"

"You want to love me, don't you?"

"Yes..."

"You want to give in to me, don't you..."

"Yes!"

"Say it."

"I want to... to love you, Spike... I do..."

Clenching his teeth and grinding into her, he roared along with his climax.

Buffy smiled in feminine satisfaction. She loved the way he felt, loved the way he came. She loved the way he moved, loved the way he spoke, loved the way he...

She loved him.

Buffy touched his face tenderly.

Gasping, he grew suspicious at her odd expression. "You're not about to run off, are you?"

"No."

"What is it?" His eyes sparkled with a mixture of adoration and insecurity.

"I think I..." Buffy inhaled deeply and exhaled with wonder, "I think I just fell in love with you."

Spike seemed to freeze in time, still as a statue, gaze locked with hers. Then suddenly, he attacked her with breath-stealing kisses.

She giggled and squirmed beneath him, finally yelping as she pushed him up, "Okay! Okay!"

Regaining his cool, he licked his lips and commended, "Not bad."

"Mmm." Buffy licked her lips too. "I agree. Smells good and tastes great."

"Less filling too," he threw in derisively. "But I think you know that's not what I meant."

"Are ya sure? 'Cause this oil is yummy."

Spike shook his head. He knew what she was trying to do, the cheeky little thing. She could backtrack all she wanted. What mattered was she'd said it.

"Mm, mm, good," she drove the point home.

"Like it that much, do you?" Spike twitched a brow. "Guess you'll have to lick it off me."

She gasped, hand on chest. "Why, Mr. Bloody! Are you suggesting I give you a different kind of happy ending?"

Threading his fingers into her hair, he said, "You already have."






THE END




I has a fever! And the only cure iz MOAR SHMOOP!