Nothing to Prove

As the sun sank beneath the horizon and darkness fell, Spike awoke and opened his eyes.

Immediately, Anya, sitting on the other end of the coffin Spike used as a bed, began to speak. "Why do some human religions have only one deity and others have a whole bunch?" she asked. Spike groaned to himself and closed his eyes. Not waiting for an answer, Anya went on. "Do you think the one-god religions have a bigger god? Or is there something the other ones know that they don't? And why do you think they always..." Spike tuned her out and lay still, feeling sorry for himself.

Ever since their little bonding moment at the Bronze that time, it had been this way. Anya came to Spike's crypt every evening, waited for him to wake up, and then started talking at him, asking him all sorts of ridiculous questions about those pesky mortals. Like, how come they could invent nuclear power but they couldn't cure the common cold. Or why they created these complex governmental systems and then spent all their time complaining about them.

How the hell should Spike know? He was a vampire, not a bloody encyclopedia! Go to the damn library and look it up, he had told her many a time, but she never listened. She mostly waited for him to say "I don't know" and then nattered on. She was there almost every night, from nightfall until around the time Xander got off from the menial job of the week. She followed Spike around everywhere, whether he liked it or not. And he didn't, but what could he do? It was a public graveyard, and Spike still had that damn chip in his head.

"...commandments, I mean that doesn't make sense either, why would you not do something just because some stupid god said so?" Spike grimaced and tuned her out again. Unfortunately for him, she didn't really seem to care whether he was actually listening. Many was the time he had fantasized about shutting her up for good -- his razor-sharp teeth sinking deep into the tender flesh of her throat ... severing her vocal cords ... her life's-blood gushing down his throat all hot and slippery wet ... hearing the blessed silence descend as she gasped and gurgled and ... Damn, he needed a cigarette. Spike opened his eyes and rolled off the coffin, tossing aside his filthy blanket, and began rummaging around for his pack of smokes.

As he lit the first cigarette of the evening and drew its smoke gratefully into his lungs, the word "sex" suddenly caught his ear. Maintaining his neutral expression, he tuned back in to demon-girl's inane chatter.

"...bad, I mean, you'd think they would want people to procreate, but they make sex seem like something so scary it's a wonder anyone tries it. Do you think it's some kind of reverse psychology?" She suddenly paused, looking expectantly at Spike.

"Huh?" he contributed pithily.

"Sex," she repeated. "Do you think the religions say sex is bad because they know that'll make people want to do it?"

Spike blinked at her. This was the kind of logic she regularly spouted, and it never got any easier for him to grasp. "That's bloody idiotic," he grumbled, pulled into the discussion despite himself. "That's not how religion works." He immediately kicked himself for encouraging her. Dammit! Would she never go away?

"Well, maybe it is and we just don't know it," Anya said. Spike rolled his eyes and refused to comment.

"Another thing I've noticed," Anya said slowly, watching him more closely than she usually did -- Spike began to fidget under her gaze -- "with the male humans, is that usually just talking about it makes them want to do it."

Spike wasn't sure what she was getting at, but his resolve was firm and he kept his mouth shut. She wasn't going to get another outburst out of him tonight, no sir. He dropped his cigarette butt to the floor and concentrated on grinding it out with his toe.

"Yeah," Anya continued after a moment, "sometimes all you have to do is say the word 'sex' to men and they get all aroused. It's really kind of amusing."

Spike looked up suddenly, frowning at her as a new suspicion began to dawn on him. She wasn't ... hitting on him, was she? Bloody hell!

"Listen," he began firmly, but as usual she ignored him. In fact, she interrupted him, jumping down from the coffin and walking toward him.

"Look, it works for undead men too," she said softly, darting a quick suggestive glance at his crotch. Spike was horrified to discover that there was a bit of a bulge there.

"Okay, demon girl, you've had your fun," he said, backing away. "Now why don't you get the hell out of my crypt and go find your little boy-toy."

"It's occurred to me that I should experience sex with more than just the one person," Anya explained, continuing to advance on him. "I mean, how can I be sure that Xander's as good at sex as I think he is? I have nothing to compare him to. I require additional data points."

"I'm not a bloody data point," Spike protested. It was difficult, though, to deny the fact that his body was willing to be a statistic. It had been a long time since he'd seen Harmony.

"You've been around a long time, so I expect you should be pretty good," Anya said calmly, beginning to unbutton her blouse. "Please remove your clothing now."

Spike gaped at her. His astonishment quickly turned to intrigue as her blouse, bra, and skirt fell to the ground, exposing her slender white body, fairly well-muscled and toned. His eyes were drawn inexorably to her breasts, which jiggled slightly; the nipples were already tightened into small buds by the chilly air. Spike gulped.

"Um... you don't really want this?" he suggested, his voice coming out a little higher-pitched than he had wanted. Anya rolled her eyes.

"Don't be stupid, Spike. Take off your pants."

Spike considered the thing for another full second before shrugging and removing his pants. What the hell, he thought, peeling off his shirt as well. Never pass up an opportunity to get laid. Of course, it wasn't like he cared about proving that he was better than that twerp Xander. Nah. He was William the bloody Bloody, dammit. He had nothing to prove.

Yeah. He could just keep telling himself that as Anya pressed her warm naked body against his cold naked body and pulled him down to the dirt floor. They fell to their knees and she immediately pushed Spike down on his back, straddling him.

"Why am I not surprised that you like to be on top?" Spike asked sarcastically. His cock, despite all the encouragement, was still only at half-mast. Maybe it was because the whole thing was so damn weird. Anya wrapped her hand around it and stroked with a surprisingly gentle touch until it sprang up to attention.

"And another thing," she said, once again ignoring Spike's comment, "why are they so obsessed with foreplay?" She lifted herself up, settled into position, and lowered herself down onto his erection. Her hips twisted slowly, rubbing her groin against him as she engulfed his cock.

Spike frowned up at her. "Now wait a bloody minute," he said, ignoring the urgent messages from his nether regions. "You expect me to believe that?"

She frowned back down at him. "What?"

"You don't enjoy foreplay? Gimme a break."

"Well, sure, I enjoy it ... and Xander seems pretty good at it ... but it kind of seems like a waste of time. Why not just skip directly to the orgasms?"

Annoyed, Spike sat up, pushing her off of him. "You stupid little bint. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he exclaimed in irritation. "Look, if you really want to experience sex with someone else, you gotta go the whole way, don't you?"

She stared at him in bemusement. "What do you mean?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up." He shoved her onto her back and pinned her down, holding her wrists against the dirt as he pulled himself over her and applied his mouth to her right nipple. She struggled a bit, but then relaxed and let him do it, staring at the ceiling. Spike ran the tip of his tongue slowly around the areola and then flicked it across the tip of the nipple, suckling all the while.

"I suppose you are right," Anya said after a moment. "I should probably let you be yourself, otherwise it isn't a real test. Xander does that, by the way."

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Shut ... Up!" he growled against her breast, renewing his assault. He shifted to grip both her wrists in one hand, holding them above her head, and ran his other hand over the contours of her body: across her shoulder and the other breast, down her stomach, down hip and thigh and knee. He lifted the knee slightly, passing his fingers onto the soft skin behind it, stroking it lightly, at the same time lifting his mouth off her breast and blowing cool air across the skin, wet with his saliva. Anya gave a little gasp and twitched slightly.

"Xa-Xander does that too," she said, but her voice was hoarser and less certain than before. "Well, not quite that, actually, but he does something similar where he-" Bloody hell and damnation, would she never shut up? Spike tuned her out again, resumed suckling her nipple, and concentrated on drawing his hand back up her inner thigh, very slowly, touching her only with the very tips of his fingers. Now, almost instinctively, she was struggling against the hand that held her down; her hips wanted to thrust upward at him, her back wanted to arch, but he held her down. He lifted his mouth off her breast again and let his lips hover, just barely brushing the skin, close enough to be felt but not actually touching. Meanwhile, his fingers roamed freely across the tops of her thighs, stroking all the way out to her hips, then back in again, dipping between her legs to pinch the ultra-silky flesh, but always touching only her legs, never actually coming into contact with her vulva, although he could feel its heat radiating out at him.

He realized suddenly that she had fallen silent -- at last! -- save her harsh, ragged breathing and the occasional brief moan. He trailed his lips across to her other nipple, trying not to smile too broadly in triumph. He breathed out onto the nipple, putting out his tongue and circling it through the air above the skin, never actually touching her, teasing her with his mouth as he continued to tease her with his hand below.

"I ... I..." she panted, struggling harder now against his hold. Spike lifted his head and smirked into her eyes.

"Yes?" he asked, not bothering to control his glee. She blinked at him, lust clouding her expression.

"I suppose you want me to beg," she managed to gasp. Spike let his hand brush her pubic hair, just enough to make it felt, and she jerked underneath him, letting out another short moan.

"Yeah, that'd be favorite," he said cheekily, blowing another breath across her swollen nipple. "I mean, you know, if you want me to actually do anything." He smirked even more, filled with self-satisfaction.

Anya blinked furiously, still panting. "Well, I suppose I'll try anything once," she said, arching up at him again. "Please."

Spike shook his head and tsk'd. "Sorry, pet. Not quite convincing me there." He brushed her crotch again, ever so lightly, then slid his hand up and laid it across her lower belly, just above the line of pubic hair. She moaned and arched upward again.

"Ohh ... please!" she breathed earnestly, her head falling back onto the ground. Spike grinned victoriously and slid his hand lower, stroking the outer lips of her warm core, tracing around them with his fingers, moving his way inside with maddening slowness, resting his chin on her breast to watch her writhe as his fingers slid slowly between her folds and teased her open. He found her clit and flicked it briefly, prompting a small shriek and a strong shudder, then moved lower and pressed a fingertip lightly into her entrance, only for a moment, before withdrawing it and moving again to stroke and rub at her inner lips.

By this time Anya was writhing desperately underneath him and his other arm was getting a little sore from the effort of holding her down -- and anyway, his cock was starting to get tired of just watching from the sidelines. Spike decided he had made his point. He released her wrists, nudged her thighs apart with his hips, slid both his hands underneath her ass to lift her toward him, and pushed himself inside her. She moaned and shrieked with pleasure as he filled her.

Spike clutched her buttocks, pulling her tightly against him, and rolled over until his back hit the dirt and she was on top again. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, still moist from his mouth. Her hot, erratic breath puffed in his face.

He moved his hand back into position against her crotch, placing it so that with every stroke she could rub her clit against it. Anya lifted herself up slightly, bracing her hands in the dirt on either side of Spike's head, and rocked against him fast and hard until she climaxed, the orgasm washing over her in a deep shuddering wave. As she began to relax and collapse on top of him, Spike moved his hands to her hips and held her, thrusting himself urgently upward until he, too, reached his climax.

After a moment Anya lifted her head and shook a few strands of sweaty hair out of her face. "Okay, you made your point. Foreplay does have its uses. You know what else I'm wondering about, is why we have the erogenous zones where they are. I mean, why not the elbows? It seems like-"

Rolling his eyes, Spike tuned her out yet again. Oh well, at least he had managed to shut her up for a few seconds. Not that he wanted to have to do that every time he needed a little peace and quiet, but it was nice to know it could be done. Until he got the chip out, this might be the next best thing.