Author: Midnight Girl
Title: Strangers
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing
Distribution: You want it, you got it
Summary: A certain red-head and a certain blonde meet in a bar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She sat, stirring her drink with her finger, looking extremely bored. He 
liked that. He didn't like this place either. A hopelessly hip club, filled
with hopelessly hip teenagers lost in their own angst and adolescent 
isolation.

Posers.

He crossed the floor, the crowd seemed to part for him and then melt back 
together. She barely noticed as he approached her table. She looked right 
through him.

"'ello," he said, in an accented voice so husky she wondered what was going
on in that blonde head. Her huge emerald eyes snapped to his face, her red 
hair falling over them.

It was not a nice face. Handsome, yes. But with a wolfish, predatory
quality 
she didn't quite trust. That didn't mean she didn't want to learn more.

"Hello," she said, simply, trying not to sound impressed.

"Anyone sitting here?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He had watched
as she sat alone for the past hour. Occasionally checking her watch and 
looking irritated.

"Well, I was supposed to be meeting my boyfriend, but he hasn't shown up 
yet," she said, her eyes were boring holes into him. She could see right 
into him and he knew it. And so did she.

She smirked slightly, never losing eye contact with him.

"His loss," he shrugged. "Any fool that would leave such a beautiful woman 
unattended derserves to lose her. Would you like some company?"

"Not particularly," she shook her head. "And no one left me unattended. I'm
not a shopping cart."

He chuckled. This one did not fall for cheap lines. She had scars. He liked
that, too. He liked a challenge.

"I think we're getting off on the wrong foot here," he said.

"We're not getting off at all," she said, sounding tired and very bored.
She 
slid off her stool and grabbed her drink.

"I'd say that's the problem," he said, gently seizing her wrist.

"Maybe for you," she smirked. "If you'll excuse me, I have more interesting
things to do."

He chuckled, watching her make her way across the crowded dance-floor 
towards the ladies room.

Round 1, Red.

She emerged from the bathroom, running her fingers through her hair. She 
actually sort of bad for brushing him off the way she did, but she hated
men 
who just assumed she was up for grabs. Morons.

She walked past the dark corner behind the soda machine. A pale pair of 
hands lunged from the darkness and pulled her in. Her body was pressed 
against him. He smelled of leather and tobacco. His cool lips smothered 
hers. She gasped pushing herself back. Faint red light outlined his pale 
features. She reared back and slapped him.

She shook her smarting palm. He grinned and pressed her stinging palm to
his 
cold lips. It was his turn for eyes to bore into her.

Her breath drew ragged, praying to God no one walked down the hall. He 
growled as she seized his mouth, plunging her clever little tongue between 
his lips. He sucked it lovingly, pushing her skirt up her hips. No 
underwear, he grinned against her busy lips.

Her fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper. His erection sprang 
free. He whimpered as her warm fingers closed around his cold flesh.

He pulled at her ass, wrapping her legs around his waist. His mouth caught 
her cry as he entered her. He panted unnecessarily, her heat seared him as 
he began to thrust into her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pressing his mouth tighter against hers.
He 
bucked her harder, driver deeper. Her hot tight wetness clenched around him
as she neared climax.

"Say it," he growled.

"What?" she gasped. Her muscles twitched and tightened, he screamed as he 
came inside her.

"Give up, yet, Red?" Spike whispered, biting her earlobe gently. "Have I 
won?"

"Not yet, Spike" Willow grinned, tightening her muscles around him again, 
making him gasp. "I like this game."


THE END