[ 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}
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.
no subject
no way you'd actually let me cuff you. you're just saying that.
you like to be in control too much
no subject
Wouldn't give it up to just anyone. Gotta be someone who can keep up with me.
no subject
( 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?