Backstory: Okay, some of you on the upper East coast might have heard

about the Opie and Anthony thing. I wrote this story for my brother,

who was heartbroken when they went off the air. Basically, what

happened, was that these shock jocks had a contest seeing who could

have sex in the MOST outrageous places. Two people got up to some

naughtiness in a pretty major Catholic Church in NYC, and got caught.

The C.C. got pissed and threatened to sue the radio station. And the

lawyers turned their backs on O and A, despite the fact they were

told the laywers would back them up against anything said on the air.

Damned bastards.

Dedicated to Opie and Anthony! Good Luck, guys! And screw the establishment!

And dedicated to my poor, heart-broken brother.

       “Oh God…Spike…no way…I changed my mind…” Buffy nearly whimpered as they turned the corner, now in full view of their destination. “I want to get back to heaven, remember?! This is insane…”

       “Well, suck it up, Slayer,” Spike glanced over his shoulder, flicking his tongue at her lewdly, “You promised.”

       “Yeah, well…I didn't know at the time you were completely out of your damned mind!” Buffy replied nervously, chewing on her bottom lip as she followed her boyfriend up the steps, glancing around when he knelt in front of the large doors to pick the lock; he took small, furtive peeks at her legs, which were covered with sheer, black stockings. “I don't think Saint Peter's going to buy I was just the innocent bystander on this caper!”

       “Don't call it a caper…you make it sound like I should be wearing a mask and tights…” He paled when he caught the intrigued look that flashed across Buffy's face. “No way in hell.”

       “Hey! I think I deserve some compensation for this!” Buffy pointed out, sighing heavily when she heard the lock give with a click. She had been hoping he'd be unable to break in, and they could go home to her nice, warm, safe bed and save the breaking and entering for another night. “Can we just go home? Please?”

       “Now, now, pet…” Spike grinned as he wrapped his arms around her waist, “If you don't honor your promises, how am I ever going to ever believe anything you say again if you welsh on this?”

       Buffy pouted, “But…come on…this is nuts! I mean…it's a church! Won't it hurt you?”

       “Not if I avoid touching anything sanctified,” Spike reminded her, opening the door and ushering her in. He locked it again behind him, glancing around the dimly lit interior with a grin, “'Sides…it'll be fun…something neither of us have ever done…and you can bet the demon girl will finally shut up about the Mile-High club…like that's so impressive. Every pillock with enough brains to purchase an airline ticket can join the Mile-High club…”

       “Except you, oh Master of the Wooden Crate,” Buffy teased.

       “Yeah…well…s'not my fault we never fly anywhere where I can sit in a seat like a bloody normal person, now is it?” Spike sniffed, insulted.

       Buffy sighed glancing around with a wince. This was definitely of the bad. Well…okay…not completely so. She could feel a thread of aroused excitement working its way through her, and she flushed in a bit of shame. This was bad, bad, bad as in the `she was going straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars' type of way.

       The church pews shone with a high gloss, reflecting the moonlight filtering in from the skylight above them, and the faint smell of beeswax candles drifted on the air. Above them, towered a Crucifix, Jesus frowning down at them in a disapproving manner.

       Yep. She was bound for hell…and it was all Horny Spike's fault…and he had to pick a Catholic Church, of course…what was wrong with the Methodist Chapel down the road? Buffy had been in there before, and she hadn't seen one stained glass window with dour Saints or stern Deities.

       “Well…” Spike rocked on his heels with a wicked grin, “Pews, altar or Confessional? Well…maybe not the altar…proximity of holy water…need me in top form and all…I wonder if they consecrated the confessionals…bloody hell…should paid more attention in church…”

       “You're so demented,” Buffy muttered, “Can we just go home? I really, really promise we can play evil, ribald pirate prince and his bawdy, busty wench…even though I still haven't figured out what ribald means…what does ribald mean, anyway?” Spike chuckled, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, grinning as her eyes widened and her pulse increased dramatically. “Oh…so that's what it means…”

       “We can play that later,” Spike assured her as he took her hand and dragged her deeper into the church, “Now…confessional or pews?”

       Buffy chewed on her bottom lip, glancing towards the sheltered corner that contained the confessionals. There was a semblance of privacy there…but the thought of fornicating in a place where a priest sat all day made her skin itch. “Pews.”

       “Pews it is!” Spike called brightly, and Buffy winced as his voice bounced off the walls, echoing back towards them.

       “We're so going to get caught,” Buffy told him, twisting her hands together.

       “That's the best part, pet,” Spike rested his hands on her hips, pressing against her so that she could feel his hard length pressing against her thigh, and started to sway back and forth with her to silent music, “The possibility of gettin' caught with our pants down…shaggin' in a public place…remember the catwalk…you seemed to like that…and the counter at the Magic Box…makes it more excitin', yes?”

       “Yeah,” Buffy replied breathlessly in response to his trilling, seductive voice. She loved that voice…too bad he only used it to coerce her into doing bad, evil things like having sex in a church…and damned if it didn't work every single time.

       Spike instinctively knew he had already won; he dipped his lips to hers, nipping and sucking at her bottom lip, smirking against her mouth when she tried furtively to deepen the teasing kiss, but that wouldn't do at all. He intended very much to tease her into an aggressive frenzy. Which, all in all, wouldn't be too hard. His girl was an animal with the right sort of motivation.

       “Ah-ah, Miss Summers…” Spike said coyly between nibbles, “Might have to make you seduce me…” He broke the kiss when she snorted, looking insulted, “What?”

       “Seduce you…you're kidding, right? You're horny like 24-7…I haven't seen your jeans with a smooth seam since 1998; even when you're getting your ass kicked by yours truly.”

       “You're a laugh riot, Summers,” Spike grumbled, dropping his hands from her waist and crossing his arms over his chest, lower lip jutting out.

       Sulky Spike…Sexy Version 4.0.

       “Oh, baby, don't be like that,” Buffy purred, toying with the ties of her infamous little black raincoat. Spike had insisted on minimal clothing for this little shindig and she had held up her end of the bargain…she wasn't too sure about him, however. He was wearing jeans beneath his buttoned up duster; if he was wearing anything else, she couldn't tell. “Can't fault me for being 100% honest, can you?”

       “Maybe…maybe not…” Spike hedged, fighting to keep the irritated look on his face, even though his mouth was watering as he watched Buffy play with the straps of her jacket, her slim hips swaying back and forth. He sat on the edge of one of the pews, struggling to appear disinterested…a plan that had some merit since Buffy couldn't see his hard on through his duster. “Might have to make you pay for being a little smart-mouthed little chit…”

       Buffy pouted, moving forward, her hips swinging in a wickedly sinful pattern, “But…Spikey…I thought you liked…” She rested her hands on his thighs, pressing on them so that he was forced to spread them, “My…smart mouth…”

       Oh…Christ…Spike thought, noting the irony of such a statement as he snuck a peek at the crucifix looming above that parapet, but immediately turned his attention back to Buffy when she removed her hands from his legs. He was about to protest, but it died on his throat when she exposed exactly what had she had been hiding beneath her little black rain coat. “Oh…Holy God Almighty…”

       “See what comes to good little boys who prayer in church?” Buffy teased, sliding her coat down her shoulders, reveling in the extraordinarily decadent way Spike was raking his eyes over her. The shiny, satin red and black bodice adhered to her curves tightly, pressing her breasts together and upwards, creating a deep, lush cleavage. The rest of her body was clothed in nothing more then black, silk crotchless panties, garter belts that held up her stockings and her small, black heels.

       She watched in immense satisfaction as Spike clenched fisted his hands in his lap, obviously struggling to keep from just grabbing her and ravaging her on the nearest available surface. “Holy mother of God…” He wheezed out.

       “Hardly,” Buffy teased, still swaying her hips teasingly, running her hands down her body, giving her breasts a little squeeze for maximum effect. She braced her hands on his shoulders before slowly lifting one of her legs, and he glanced down at the shining, glistening jewel between her thighs as she rested that leg behind him. He lost sight of her bedewed thatch as she pressed herself into his lap, rubbing herself against the hard piece of flesh trapped beneath leather and denim.

       Spike groaned, closing his eyes as she rubbed and thrust against him, and she smacked his cheek, “You're supposed to watch when you get a lap dance, Spikey.”

       “You're going to be the death of me,” He murmured, but opened his eyes as commanded, and Buffy smiled at him cheekily.

       “Believe me…there's way worse ways to die,” She reminded him, and stifled a sigh when she saw a pained look cross his face.

       She decided to change the subject as she gripped the labels of his duster, never stopping the movement of her hips, and she giggled when he buried his face in her cleavage with a growl.

       She gripped his hair and jerked his head back, shaking her head with a stern look on her face, “Now, now…naughty boy…patience is a virtue…” She tugged on his duster, a thoughtful look on her face, “Now…I went through all the trouble to dress up nicely for church…and now I'm wondering…what exactly are you wearing beneath your coat?”

       Spike smirked, reaching down to start unbuttoning his duster, nearly screaming in frustration when Buffy moved off of his lap so that he could stand to remove it. As soon as he was on his feet, however, Buffy grabbed at his duster, and practically ripped it off his body. “Oi! Now! Mind the leather! I finally got it perfectly aged!”

       Buffy tossed his duster over his shoulder, pouting as she looked him over, “You're not wearing anything fun,” She complained, tugging on the hem of his white wife-beater.

       “No…” He purred, catching her hand and directing it below his waist, “But I brought plenty of fun to the party, nevertheless…” He moaned when she squeezed the bulge in his pants, rubbing hard against it.

       “Off with the pants,” She ordered, slipping away from him, and taking up his previous spot on the edge of the pew.

       “Do you want a lap dance too, poodle?” He asked with a smirk, “Be happy to oblige, but…equipment might get in the way.”

       “Just off with the pants for now,” Buffy replied, cocking her head thoughtful, “We'll talk lap dance later.” Buffy hid her smile, deciding that Spike giving her a little strip tease, decked out in full male stripper costume, was an interesting idea…definitely better then evil, ribald pirate and his bawdy, busty wench…for some reason, during that little game, he kept talking in some sort of foreign language he insisted was Olde English. What a freak.

       Spike growled, seeing her attention was elsewhere, and she dragged her gaze up to him, raising an eyebrow expectantly as he removed his shirt and dropped it on the ground, and dropped her eyes downwards when he undid the fly of his jeans and lowered the zipper. He watched as her pink tongue darted out to lick over her lips as he freed himself from the confines of his jeans, noting in amusement that pretty much all her inhibitions about doing it in a church had vanished. Saucy little wench…

       Buffy watched as he stepped out of his jeans and stroked his erection absently as he took in her rapt gaze, which was fixated on the rigid shaft nestled in his dark curls. She licked her lips again, tilting back a bit to look him in the face, “Now that's fun wear.”

       Spike smirked evilly, stalking towards her, the aura of a predator radiating from his very being, and Buffy let out a short, surprised gasp when his hands shot out to grip her waist and in a dizzyingly blur of motion, she found herself lying back on the pew, one leg propped up on the back of the seat, the other dangling off the outer edge.

       Spike caught her lips in a crushing, ravenous kiss, his hands traveling down her waist and along her legs, and she jumped when he snapped one of her garters against the inside of her thigh, the slight sting sending tremors up to her already aching center. Spike broke away from her lips to nip and lick along her jaw and along her throat.

       Buffy gasped a little as his chest pressed into hers, her rigid nipples rubbing against the inside of her corset, and she suddenly cursed the thing, since she suddenly found it difficult to breath in the binding fabric. However, Spike seemed suddenly fascinated with the way her breasts heaved and strained against it, but let out a growl of frustration when probing his face into her cleavage failed to provide him with her hidden nipples. Instead, he opted to suck and nuzzle the globes of her breasts that were exposed to him, using his hands to squeeze and stimulate the area trapped beneath her bodice.

       “Reminds me when I was alive…” He murmured against her warm skin, “Beautiful breasts heavin' against layers of fabric…luscious treasures waiting to be discovered and suckled…nearly enough to drive any bloke mad with desire…” He smiled when he felt Buffy inhale sharply, her breasts heaving upwards into his face, and he moaned quietly.

       “Love it when you talk…all poetic…but dirty poetic…cause your other poetry sucks.” He nipped her chest a little bit roughly in retaliation for that remark, and then he lapped up the bit of blood he had spilt. “Big baby,” She teased, and Spike lifted his head, eyes darkening even more.

       “Am not. I'm evil,” He protested, and she rolled her eyes. “I am!”

       “You're so not,” She teased back, and he growled before sliding smoothly down her body, resting his hands against her thighs and spreading her legs farther, opening her to him completely.

       His hands slid along the inside of her thighs, feeling her muscles quivering beneath his fingertips, and a sinful grin touching his lips, “I'm not evil?” He asked, lowering his mouth so that his breath breezed over her damp curls as he spoke and Buffy's breath caught in her throat. He dipped down, delicately licking along her folds before parting them with his fingers and suddenly driving his tongue sharply against her clit. Her hips arched off the pew as she gasped loudly, and he pulled back, flicking his eyebrows at her, “You sure about that?”

       “Evil, evil naughty fiend,” Buffy told him breathlessly, reaching down to grasp his head and shove him back down, “And don't stop unless you want the Good little Slayer to hurt you.”

       He chuckled, and Buffy closed her eyes, her free hand reaching up to grip the back of the pew as she arched her hips off the bench; Spike's hands slid beneath the full globes of her backside. He held her firmly to his mouth as he sucked and licked her flowing quim with hard, sure strokes of his tongue.

       He grinned when she came with a harsh shout of his name, and he pressed his tongue hard against her clit, awarded with an overflow of her juices onto his tongue as she came again, and she writhed with small mewls as he prolonged her orgasm till it was bordering on painful.

       “Hmmm…” He lifted his head to gaze up into her flushed, sweaty face, licking his lips exaggeratedly. “Through the lips, past the gums…watch out stomach, here she comes…”

       “You're so demented,” Buffy muttered, her body slumping against the pew in pure satiation, and she watched as he sidled up her body, his hard shaft pressing against her thigh as he caught her lips in a kiss; his tongue raked along hers, and she sucked on it, tasting her own spendings on his lips.

       Renewed arousal spread through her and she lifted her hips, her legs coming to wrap around him, trying desperately to urge him forward and inside her; to her frustration, he only gave her a mock puzzled look, eyebrow lifting over his oh-so-blue eyes.

       “Want something, Slayer?” He asked innocently, the head of his cock brushing against her arousal-swollen lips. He blinked when she let out a growl that could rival one of his own.

       “Spike…get that undead ass over here and in me before I hurt you.”

       “Don't know, baby,” Spike replied coyly, shifting his hips back away from her, “Might have to make you…beg first…”

       That was the wrong thing to say. Spike suddenly found himself airborne, flipped over Buffy's head, and he landed on his back on the pew, the top of his head brushing across Buffy's. It took him a few seconds to register what had happened, and he frowned as he stared up at the ceiling, “Hey!”

       However, his protest was short-lived as she suddenly jackknifed her body upwards and over his, landing in a straddle about his waist. Spike's eyes had glazed over as he caught her sight of her breasts falling victim to gravity during that cute little flippy thing she did and they had very nearly popped out of her corset. Damn shame they hadn't. On the other hand, breasts popping out in his face while she was doing that EXTREMELY nice flippy thing might've actually sent him into an arousal-induced coma. Not of the good, since he was still intending to shag the stuffing out of her.

       “Nice…” He purred up at her, arching an eyebrow, “See those Slayer moves are good for somethin'…”

       “Yeah, `cause, you know, saving the world on a nightly basis, what a stupid use for them,” Buffy replied, sliding down his body till she felt his erection pressing against the cleft of her ass. Hmmm…hard…She started to grind down against him, watching with an evilly content smile as his eyes widened and then crossed. He was just too damn adorable when he did that. She did it again the second his eyes uncrossed. Did she mention that it was damn adorable?

       However, when she attempted to do that yet a third time, Spike growled as he shoved her in the middle of the chest, causing her to fall backwards, her knees bent beneath her body. She cried out, her back forming an arch as he immediately lunged at her, slamming into her with enough force that she slid along the polished wood of the pew several feet. Her hands immediately found his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles rippling beneath his skin.

       Spike gasped as her slick passage clamped down around him; God, he loved that…go in like a hot knife through butter…and then it was like…warm…wet…finger cuffs. Spike frowned. Okay…that little mental metaphor actually killed his erection a little. However, Buffy rubbing her bound breasts against his chest, the stiff fabric chaffing his nipples a little brought it right back, full force.

       Buffy gasped out as Spike began driving into her with enough force that they inched their way down the pew and she winced when the top of her head struck the little joint that was sticking up from the edge of the pew.

       One of Spike's hands shot to grip it, providing him with even more leverage, and Buffy took advantage of his new positioning to wriggle her legs out from beneath her so that she was lying supine beneath him. One of her legs was bent and pressing against his side, the other dangling off the side of the pew. One of her hands cupped the back of his head and she yanked him down so that she could suck and lick at his full, sensual lips.

       Hmmm…yummy…lips of Spike…

       She started to wonder where Spike's other hand had gotten too when she felt a slightly warm palm press against one of the globes of her ass, and then he was lifting her lower body off of the pew; his other hand dropped down from above her head to grip the other side. Then he was rising above her like a silvered, majestic god, colored light sprinkling across his pale skin from the moonlight shining in through the stained glass windows.

       The added leverage allowed him to plunge into her with even more force, and Buffy was well aware that by the time they were done, she was going to have a pretty big bump on the top of her head and possibly a killer headache. However, with his cock stabbing into her, touching places deep inside her, and the delicious sound of his grunts and growls, she could hardly find the strength to care. Heck…Jesus himself decide at the moment to come down for his second coming, and she'd still be joyfully allowing her beautiful demon to fuck her brainless in His house.

       Yeah…Heaven was overrated anyway.

       Spike grinned wickedly as his hips crashed against his Slayer's, delighting in the little kitten-y noises she was making. She always claimed that she was quiet during sex, apparently unaware of the mewls, moans and little breathy exhalations she let out during the course of their love-making.

       He liked to think that she didn't know she made them because she hadn't made them before him. Ego-inflation? Hell yeah…not that it was that hard when it came to her ex-boyfriends, ponces, the whole lot of `em.

       He stared down at her fixedly as she looked up at him, her eyelashes sweeping up and down swiftly as she struggled to keep her eyes opened. She knew he liked it when she watched him. The soft mounds of her breasts jumped and jiggled in their confinements as he drove into her with enough force to have broken a mere mortal. Her skin was bathed with a glow of sweat, and he growled as Buffy flicked her tongue out over her lips, tasting the salty fluid gathering in the little hollow above her lips.

       He suddenly dropped down on top of her, seizing her lips with a hungry snarl that caused a delighted shiver to run up Buffy's spine. His fingers were leaving handprint bruises in the soft flesh of her backside and her entire lower body was starting to feel a bit sore, but pleasantly so. Spike then drove his pelvic bone against her clit, and pressed into her so that her back arched, her body trapped between his and the end of the pew, and she ripped her lips away with a shrill shriek of his name.

       Spike winced at the high-pitched sound, her voice piercing his eardrums with an intensity he rarely experienced, except for that time the `Bit thought it'd be funny to blast a dog-whistle near his ear when he had been dozing on the couch.

       Buffy's eyes finally fluttered closed, having the lost the fight as she just gave way to the feelings of the orgasm building on the edges of her awareness. On every down-thrust, Spike was grinding against her clit, causing stars to burst behind her eyelids, and she knew he was reaching the point of no return as well. Whenever he started to near release, his growls intensified, becoming something between a grunt and a cat-like snarl. Buffy's legs came up to wrap around his waist, pulling him even tighter against her, so that he was hardly moving from her at all, and she purposely clenched her inner muscles as tight as she could.

       The result was a strangled howl as Spike's movements ceased entirely, his eyes going wide as he stared down into her upturned face. As soon as she dropped her legs, he withdrew once more and then crashed into her with enough force that the edge of the pew snapped off when she struck it, and then Buffy was screaming, and raking her hands down his back.

       His body shuddered beneath her hands as her tight passage milked him for all that he was worth, and he burrowed his head in the crux of her shoulder and throat, breath hissing out between his teeth.

       Buffy eased her nails out of his back and then dragged his head back up by the hair to press a fevered, but weary kiss to his forehead. He responded with a rumbling purr that shook his entire body, nuzzling his nose against her cheeks, coaxing her into a lazy, sated kiss. He nipped at her lips with a playful growl as she turned her face towards his, and languidly lapped at the sweet sweat that had gathered in the little hollow beneath her cute nose.

       She hummed with pleasure as he started to lick along her jaw and then down her throat, paying special attention to the artery still throbbing with her heightened heartbeat, and she pulled him down even closer to her, just wanting to feel his weight against her for the moment.

       She opened her eyes, idly wondering when she had closed them when she heard him chuckle, and saw that he was looking at a spot just over her head, “What?”

       “Hmm…we broke the church,” He reached down and picked up the piece of wood that had snapped off of the pew, and then he looked concerned as he lifted her head up to examine the shiny new bump gracing it. “Bloody hell…shoulda brought some pillows or somethin',” He grumbled, “It's the headboard all over again…”

       “Spikey…my head hurts,” Buffy whined in a cutesy voice and he looked down at her tenderly before kissing the top of her head.

       “Well…I broke ya…so I guess I'm goin' to have to nurse you back to full health, aren't I?” He asked, a rakish grin breaking over his features, “Could take…days…maybe even weeks till you're back in full-fighting trim form, won't it?”

       “Oh, definitely,” Buffy nodded her head enthusiastically, “We might even have to get you doctor scrubs and a stethoscope…”

       “And handcuffs…” Spike added.

       “Handcuffs? Doctors don't have handcuffs!” She crinkled  her cute little nose and Spike gave in to the temptation to kiss it, as adorable, if slightly bumpy, it was.

       “Yes, they do,” He argued, “And whip cream…hmmm…chocolate sauce…maybe a little bit of barbecue sauce…”

       “Wait…did you say…barbecue sauce?!”

       Spike shrugged apologetically, “I'm hungry.”

       “Well, I'm not your personal Buffay…” She giggled and Spike groaned, “Get it? Buffet? Buffay?”

       “Yeah, I got it,” Spike grimaced, “Unfortunatly…”

       “Oh. Like you're so much better with the post-coital?” She sniffed, “Mister `The Only Thing Better than Fighting a Slayer…'”

       “Is shagging her senseless till she's bow-legged?” Spike suggested innocently. Buffy gave her internal muscles a vicious tightening for that one, and as Spike was still seated quite comfortably in her, he immediately gasped and his eyes crossed as he hardened once more. “Evil little minx,” He muttered, leaning down to kiss her softly as he slowly began to move within her again.

       “Only letting you get away with that because I'm too sore for make-up sex,” Buffy pouted prettily.

       “Ohhhh…pouty…” Buffy jutted out her lower lip even more, her eyes twinkling at his favorite little game. “Look at the lip…gonna get it…gonna get it…” He started to lean down to do just that when a loud gasp jarred his attention away from his lady-love.

       Spike lifted his head in annoyance, and then his eyes went wide when he saw the priest standing less then ten feet away from them. The poor old man crossed himself several times, looking flustered beyond words and shocked enough for a heart-attack.

       “You mind?!” He snarled out, his facial ridges rippling beneath his skin, and the priest let out a unmanly shriek that made Spike wince. The guy could give Buffy and the `Bit's dog whistle a run for the money in the frequency department. The priest whirled, nearly tripping all over his long, ungainly robes as he hurried for the doors at the front of the church.

       Spike snorted, annoyed at the interruption, and turned back to Buffy, and started to move within her again. However, he stopped when she gave him the death glare that promised no sex…for a whole two hours! He sighed and then winced as he pulled out of her, still semi-hard, “Ruin my fun, pet,” He whined. He hated leaving her heat, interruptions or not. He wished he could just stay within her for an eternity. Immediately, at that thought, he looked around for any vengeance demons in the near vicinity. With his luck, they'd hear him and he and Buffy would be joined at the pelvis for an eternity…and not in the fun way neither.

       “Fine…you stay here for the cops to come arrest you for lewd conduct in a church…just don't come ask me to bail your butt out of jail,” Buffy replied to his whining. “Social Services would love that one!”

       “Right…right…” Spike rolled off of the pew, and then his head jerked up when he heard sirens in the distance.

       Amidst a frantic search for strewn clothes and somewhat hysterical giggles (On the Slayer's end! Spike, under NO circumstances, GIGGLED! He guffawed in a manly manner,) fled the church before the cops could arrive. However, even without Slayer or vampire speed, they could have gotten out of there before the police actually got showed up. SDPD was hardly breaking any records with their response time. Even so, it got both of their adrenal glands flowing at full capacity.

       They were barely out of the neighborhood and through the park before Spike was tumbling Buffy down to the soft grass and pouncing on top of her with a mock, predatory snarl.

       Xander frowned, pausing as he stopped near a copse of trees, cocking his head slightly. He then sniggered, and glanced at Anya, who was clinging to his arm. “Listen to that,” He said, gesturing at a strand of bushes that were shaking and rustling, without benefit of wind. Kitten-y mewls and cat-like snarls were issuing from the shadows. “Sounds like a couple of kitties are getting some pussy.”

       Anya peered up at Xander, raising an eyebrow, “Do cats having sex make your horny, honey?” She asked curiously, and then smiled radiantly as she hooked her hands up near her face, “I can pretend to be a kitty and you can lap my pussy,” She told him bluntly, and then let out a cute little `meow.'

       “Uh…” Xander was going to tell her that cats having sex didn't make him hot, but then she started rubbing up against him, meowing and licking his face. No man in his right mind could resist that!

       “Oh…God…SPPPIKKKEEEE!”

       “OW! Luv! M'ears!”

       All color drained from Xander's face, and Anya peered into the bushes, finally making out the forms of two very intimately entwined people. She then looked up at Xander, “That's not cats. It's Spike and Buffy,” She informed him.

       “Anya…for the sake of my sanity…we're going to pretend they're cats.”

       “Oh,” Anya smiled brightly, “So cats having sex does make you horny!” She purred loudly…and pretty badly; it sounded like she was hawking up a hairball. She suddenly stopped and turned to glare at the bushes, “DAMMIT! Spike! You dirty cheat! This is NOT going to out-do my Mile-High Club points!” She called loudly, and then added triumphantly, “Xander and I have had sex in this park already! SO THERE!”

       “Anya!” Xander hissed, and then he frowned, “Wait…you're having a sex competition with SPIKE?!”

       There was a rustling in the bushes, and a disheveled looking Spike popped his head up, and he stuck his tongue out at Anya in a fit of childish glee, “Yeah!? Well…the Slayer and I just shagged ourselves rotten in the Catholic church…IN FRONT OF A PRIEST! Beat THAT Demon Girl!”

       Anya sniffed as Spike suddenly disappeared from view with a yelp, presumably yanked down by the still hidden Slayer, and then there was the sound of growls and shrieks of laughter. Xander was forced to plug his ears and look up at the sky so as not to see the swaying branches and hear the pair in the bushes doing unspeakable things to each other.

       Anya huffed in annoyance, and Xander yelped as he was nearly jerked off his feet as his girlfriend yanked him out to the street, “OW! Anya! What gives?”

       Anya's eyes flashed with demonic fury that made Xander flinch and fear for his dangly bits, “WE are going to find a nunnery and fornicate in front of the nuns!”

       “Oh…God…” Xander groaned, “I'm so going to hell…”

The End

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