( she gives him a look, to the mention of spike, that can be described only in the phrase bitch, what's wrong with you?, brows pulled together and mouth in an exaggerated pout, trying to think what most highly even means. (tangentially thinking about his fingers inside her, which is not really helpful right now, given that everything is — messy. and warm. and slick.) that she's the slayer, maybe? capable? he probably wouldn't mention the amount of times she's beat his stupid ass. maybe — mentioned that he thinks he loves her? that he thinks he's capable of loving anyone?

sucking on her cheek, she hums. genuinely tries to let it go for all of a few heartbeats, before deciding nope. cannot. )

Ah. Did he? ( very casual-like. cool as a cucumber, is buffy summers. ) So, when you say that, you meaaan ... what? He said I look good from a few feet behind? ( a gesture, thatta way, behind her. ) He lurks a lot. Like a hungry kitten.