ha. giles has a sixth sense for vampires fondling his books. you'd never make it. ( but — ) i like poetry, though.
i guess i was thinking
( she rolls onto her back, staring up on the tent's roof, huffing to herself. itchy cotton boxers on her hips, squirming, toeing off a pair of fuzzy pink socks miraculously saved from the fire, forgetting about them at the bottom of the sleeping bag. a hand sneaks under the top layer of cashmere, lifting the thick elastic band on her hips up, and letting it smack down on her lower stomach, again and again. fussing. )
you only really saw the beginning of that time in the house. it's not like we stopped after just once. you know?
[ He's gonna file away that little tidbit about poetry, but there's something more pressing to attend to, first. ]
Well, well. I'd be lying if I said I was surprised.
You're not a girl who'll ever be satisfied by just one round, are you?
[ Never could've gotten this out of Buffy if he'd asked her directly. Spike has to take what she gives him when she gives it, and as he takes a longer drag on his cigarette, waiting for his phone to light up again, he hopes she doesn't spook away from this offering before it ripens. ]
( this is not a brag — this is a horrifying reality. buffy can go for hours, and her slayer enhancements will leave her barely sweaty, ready for more. this was extremely novel and sexualized by the boys in college — which is similarly humiliating, and humbling, as expecting a guy might want to have more than just sex with you. angel only got the one chance to try it. riley could keep up, but it would exhaust him. spike? a real goldilocks of sexual partners, fitting just right. he'd probably be happy to die having sex with buffy, which works, because dead is exactly what buffy pretends to want him. )
you wanted to do things to me. you said you thought about it a lot. you know what i mean?
( it feels hard to write out the words, like they're uncomfortable somehow — not that she's shy, but that she doesn't know how to say it, isn't sure what it'll sound like coming from her. but, you know. it's texting. it barely counts. )
i fucked you against the wall. and then the floor. and then you pushed me on my back and tried to tongue all your come out of me. you didn't stop until i came twice. or maybe three times. that hadn't happened to me before, getting off like that.
you're not doing a good job of making me not think about it btw
[ Sometimes, Spike smokes more for want of something to do with his mouth and hands than any sort of nicotine habit, because vampires can't get addicted to human substances anymore--but he's addicted to Buffy. The scent of her, feel of her, the sound of his name on her lips.
The filter's gone wet on his tongue, dick pressing uncomfortably against the zip of his trousers. ]
'Course I know what you mean. Can't think of anything but the things I want to do to you.
And I'd let you do anything you want to me. Smother me with your cunt 'cause I don't need my lungs, anyway. Cuff me to the bedposts 'cause I don't need my hands to make you scream, either.
( she's worrying the side of her thumb against the flat of her teeth — which crack into a smile, buffy rolling over and onto her front. linus (the well loved, and unfortunately not unused to this treatment, lion) gets snagged, tucked between her legs. )
no way you'd actually let me cuff you. you're just saying that. you like to be in control too much
money where your mouth is, spike. i'll believe it when i see it.
( though, really — it's not that hard to imagine. if spike is grateful for every inch he gets of her, wouldn't he accept that with open arms? if, theoretically, it was the only way buffy knew how to be — it's not like he'd ever call them incompatible, he'd never forfeit that. if he didn't like it, he'd make himself fit the mold. same as buffy with all her previous boyfriends, changing to squeeze into the space. )
gonna be some trouble finding a bedpost right now, though how about i cuff them together, above your head? with enough room to put my knees on either side of your neck
( getting eaten out isn't something she's ever enjoyed, really. since spike? it'd be too flattering to call it a favorite (but not at all a lie). )
are you gonna beg me to lower down, or just open your mouth like a sweetie?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Need Spike to come sing you a lullaby, love? Or we could go on a witching hour patrol. All's quiet from my vantage, though.
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do you even know any lullabies?
( she does remember, distantly, that spike kind of has a lovely singing voice. randomly. )
nah. just distract me.
i don't want to think for a minute.
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Could read you some poetry. [ Spike could write a poem on the spot about Buffy. Probably has. He'll keep that close, for now. ]
Gotta army-crawl into that library tent Giles has set up, though.
I wonder what can stop a Slayer thinking, when there aren't any beasties about.
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i guess i was thinking
( she rolls onto her back, staring up on the tent's roof, huffing to herself. itchy cotton boxers on her hips, squirming, toeing off a pair of fuzzy pink socks miraculously saved from the fire, forgetting about them at the bottom of the sleeping bag. a hand sneaks under the top layer of cashmere, lifting the thick elastic band on her hips up, and letting it smack down on her lower stomach, again and again. fussing. )
you only really saw the beginning of that time in the house. it's not like we stopped after just once. you know?
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Well, well. I'd be lying if I said I was surprised.
You're not a girl who'll ever be satisfied by just one round, are you?
[ Never could've gotten this out of Buffy if he'd asked her directly. Spike has to take what she gives him when she gives it, and as he takes a longer drag on his cigarette, waiting for his phone to light up again, he hopes she doesn't spook away from this offering before it ripens. ]
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most can't keep up
( this is not a brag — this is a horrifying reality. buffy can go for hours, and her slayer enhancements will leave her barely sweaty, ready for more. this was extremely novel and sexualized by the boys in college — which is similarly humiliating, and humbling, as expecting a guy might want to have more than just sex with you. angel only got the one chance to try it. riley could keep up, but it would exhaust him. spike? a real goldilocks of sexual partners, fitting just right. he'd probably be happy to die having sex with buffy, which works, because dead is exactly what buffy pretends to want him. )
you wanted to do things to me. you said you thought about it a lot.
you know what i mean?
( it feels hard to write out the words, like they're uncomfortable somehow — not that she's shy, but that she doesn't know how to say it, isn't sure what it'll sound like coming from her. but, you know. it's texting. it barely counts. )
i fucked you against the wall. and then the floor. and then you pushed me on my back and tried to tongue all your come out of me.
you didn't stop until i came twice. or maybe three times. that hadn't happened to me before, getting off like that.
you're not doing a good job of making me not think about it btw
no subject
The filter's gone wet on his tongue, dick pressing uncomfortably against the zip of his trousers. ]
'Course I know what you mean. Can't think of anything but the things I want to do to you.
And I'd let you do anything you want to me. Smother me with your cunt 'cause I don't need my lungs, anyway. Cuff me to the bedposts 'cause I don't need my hands to make you scream, either.
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no way you'd actually let me cuff you. you're just saying that.
you like to be in control too much
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Wouldn't give it up to just anyone. Gotta be someone who can keep up with me.
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( though, really — it's not that hard to imagine. if spike is grateful for every inch he gets of her, wouldn't he accept that with open arms? if, theoretically, it was the only way buffy knew how to be — it's not like he'd ever call them incompatible, he'd never forfeit that. if he didn't like it, he'd make himself fit the mold. same as buffy with all her previous boyfriends, changing to squeeze into the space. )
gonna be some trouble finding a bedpost right now, though
how about i cuff them together, above your head? with enough room to put my knees on either side of your neck
( getting eaten out isn't something she's ever enjoyed, really. since spike? it'd be too flattering to call it a favorite (but not at all a lie). )
are you gonna beg me to lower down, or just open your mouth like a sweetie?