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"Forget it, Slayer. I won't do it."
Spike crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the frame of their bedroom door, regarding Buffy with a steely eye. He wouldn't give in this time. He had to take a stand. The future of their relationship depended on it. If he gave in to her now, it would...oh, bloody hell. She was doing the pout.
"Spike," she said, batting her eyes at him. "You promised." She licked her lips, looking up at him seductively, then casually tossed her hair back. The move caused her back to arch slightly and her breasts to press against the material of her thin shirt. And by God, she was not wearing a bra under there, that he was sure of. What had they been talking about? It couldn't possibly matter. Whatever it was, she was right. Yeah. He remembered promising her....
Wait a second. No, he didn't. Devious little bitch, he thought, hiding a grin.
"Nice try," he said, with a firmness he didn't entirely feel. "I did no such thing, and you know it."
Buffy visibly deflated, the seduction-meter going from one hundred to zero in the span of a second. He'd be damned if he knew how she turned it on and off like that. Must be a girl thing.
"Fine," she said, plopping down on the bed in a sulk. "So much for the whole 'nice boyfriend' thing. I knew it was just an act."
"That's right," he said smoothly. "Evil here, and don't you forget it." She arched a delicate eyebrow at that, and he quailed slightly. "Still a vampire, at least," he muttered.
Buffy collapsed back on the bed, her breasts wobbling slightly at the impact. Not looking. Still not looking. "Spike, we're gonna be..." she craned her neck to look at the clock, "...seriously very late if we don't get moving!"
"So?" He grinned down at her. "I've always liked to make an entrance."
"Yeah, no kidding," she said dryly. "But the whole point of a surprise party? Is the surprise part. It's kinda pointless if we get there too late." He stayed firmly planted in the doorway, and she rolled her eyes. "Come on," she wheedled. "It's for Willow. Kennedy spent a lot of time planning it, and Xander's going to be there, and we so owe her after that group of Fyarl demons wrecked her birthday party last year."
"Slayer," he said patiently. "How often do I have to tell you that I don't give a bloody damn about your friends?"
And there was the glare. "Spike?" she said sweetly. "Honey? You know the outfit I bought?"
His mouth went dry. Just yesterday she had come home from a shopping trip with Dawn, carrying a pink and white bag that smelled soft and girly. He'd caught a glimpse of black lace and delicate garter clips before she'd snatched the bag away from him and whisked it upstairs, with a promise that she would show it to him later.
"Yeah," he droned. Fuck, was he drooling?
"I still have the receipt," she said innocently. "Say the word, and back it goes."
He narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't know why people made such a big deal about the vampire thing. As far as he was concerned, she was the truly evil one.
"Dirty pool, Slayer," he growled, but she recognized a concession when she saw it and was quick to take advantage.
"Yay!" she said, bouncing off the bed and digging in the closet.
"Come on," he groaned. "I've already agreed to go to this little event, haven't I? Don't see why I can't just go as I am."
Buffy grunted, unearthing a box from beneath a jumbled pile of shoes. How many pairs did she have in there?
"Because," she said firmly, "Dawn said she would turn you away at the door if you wore that black t-shirt one more time." He brightened considerably at that, and Buffy waved her finger in his face. "Don't even think about it. We're going to this party and we're both looking nice, if I have to kill you to do it. Don't think I won't."
"Wouldn't work," he said gloomily. "I'd just end up coming back." He sighed dramatically. "Fine, do your worst. Let's get this over with."
With a flourish, Buffy whipped the lid off the box and started digging through layers of tissue paper. "Trust me," she said briskly. "I'm so good at this. Besides, you can't see yourself in a mirror anyway."
"I'm so whipped," he muttered, surrendering as her grabby fingers forced his t-shirt up and over his head. "The jeans are staying," he warned. "Only letting you go so far."
"Yeah, yeah," she said, spinning him around a little too forcefully. Oh, yeah. He loved it when she let her strength show. It turned him on like nothing else. Buffy helped him ease his arms into a button-down shirt -- silk, maybe? -- and brought it up around his shoulders, turning him around again so she could button it. He smiled down fondly at her lowered head. It honestly didn't matter much to him what he wore. It was really the principle of the thing. But having her so near to him, seeing the tip of her tongue peek out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on the buttons? It made giving in completely worth his while.
"There!" she said, straightening his collar, then stepping back and blinking at him. "Uh..."
Interesting. Now she was the one who was drooling. Spike glanced down at himself, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. It was a simple blue silk shirt, nothing special, but Buffy was staring at him like he was her favorite meal and she hadn't eaten in a week.
"Perfect," she said in satisfaction. "I got the shade exactly right. Am I good, or what? Oh, wait!" She spun around. "Not perfect yet."
Buffy opened one of the drawers of her vanity, digging around until she came up with a small leather bag. She handed it to him shyly.
"What's this?" he asked, hefting the bag in his hand. "Not going to explode, is it?"
She rolled her eyes and yanked it back from him. Opening it, she pulled out a thick silver ring and tossed it to him. Spike held it up. It was simple in design, heavy and soft in his hand, with an angular pattern etched into it. It was a thumb ring, if the size was anything to go by. Spike was about to slip it on when he noticed a small stamp on the inside of the band: Love, B. He looked up at Buffy and raised an eyebrow, and she blushed adorably.
"It was just something I picked up," she said defensively. "It made me think of you. I remember you used to wear things like that, back when we...you know."
"Why, Buffy," he purred. "You liked the jewelry? You never said."
"No! Well, yeah, some of it," she admitted. "That pimp chain? Not of the good. But...I kinda liked your ring." She fixed him with a sultry look. "And I liked what you did with it."
"Oh yeah?" Spike slipped the ring onto his right thumb and eased himself closer to Buffy. She didn't move as he approached her, but her eyes dilated and her breathing picked up. He raised his right hand and ran it softly over her shoulder and across her chest. As his thumb passed over the swell of her breast, the ring caught on her nipple and it puckered immediately. Buffy moaned.
"We...we should go," she whispered. He watched her hungrily as she licked her lips. "We're going to be late, and...oh!" She broke off with a gasp as he rubbed the cool silver over her nipple again. She stood still, whimpering, as he made one more pass over her breast before stepping back.
"You're right," he said as casually as he could. "Better get going. Don't want to miss the party."
He turned away from her with a smirk, then yelped as she caught him around the waist and swung him onto the bed, leaping on top of him to straddle his waist. Her eyes were wild, and he could hear her heart thudding inside her chest. Christ, he was so hard.
"What's this?" he gasped in mock surprise. "You don't want to miss the big event, do you?"
Buffy dug her fingers into the collar of his shirt, leaning down until she was an inch away from his lips.
"Screw the party," she breathed, stopping briefly to suck on his earlobe. "We can be a little late. I'll make it up to Willow later."
Spike grinned in satisfaction, leaning back against the bed in surrender. "That's my girl."
He should have known. Things always worked out for the best when he let her have her way with him.