— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
Crave, by NautiBitz
Chapter 12 (Part 1 of 2): Devil May Care
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awesome banner by dampersnspoons
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So, there's one fade-to-black sex scene here, partly because I've written that kind of scene so many times that I was, frankly, clean out of fresh ideas. But mostly it's because -- and this is why the last chapter bled out of me so slowly -- while I can clearly visualize their white-hot sex, don't get me wrong, I'm really more into their relationship than anything else. I want to know how they interact *between* all the sex, you know? Of course, I always try to use my sex scenes as a stage for relationship development so they're not just boring and gratuitous time-outs, but you get my point, right? If you're dying to know how that sex scene went down, I may add it in later if inspiration strikes... or, you could read the corresponding chapters of Older, In Heat, HDL, etc etc...
Which is not to say that there isn't a load of gratuitous smut in this chapter. There is. I'm not made of stone, for pete's sake.
Special thanks to Sotia, Sarah, fancysemantics, chosen, jamalov, rebcake, colorofangels and vampybabe for your extra-mile feedback! So very appreciated. Yes, I AM a quote whore. Who told you?
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He'd forgotten how it felt -- waking up to a girl he actually liked.
First, there was a warm rush of Won Her victory trailed by a hot swell of Keep Her desire... both of which were then stabbed through the heart by an icy blade of Don't Be A Ruddy Fool, You Daft Wanker.
"Anyone's the Devil in this room, it's you," he whispered as he slid a lock of hair out of her sleeping face. "Put me under a spell but good."
The corners of her mouth turned up.
I'll be damned. He'd be remiss if he didn't announce the occasion: "There's my smile."
Her eyes fluttered open. She focused on him, her smile faded, and then came the inevitable face of revulsion he'd been hoping to delay: "Oh, god."
He rolled his eyes.
Buffy sat up and held her head. "Oh, god!"
"Is this the part where you blame the absinthe and play at not remembering?" Spike wasn't having it. She may have been buzzed enough to shed her inhibitions, but he'd bet his entire fortune she knew perfectly damned well what she was doing. "If so, wake me when it all comes flooding back."
"Spike! This was easy for you. Not for me, okay?"
That... actually made sense. "Yeah, okay."
"You had nothing to lose. I have... everything... Oh, god."
She was falling apart. He sat up, touched her hair. "Buffy. He doesn't ever have to know."
"You don't understand." She swatted his hand away. "That's not the way we are. I don't know how I can ever face him again!"
"So don't," Spike said with an ever-so-casual shrug, not sure where the idea was coming from. "Stay here with me. Here in Paris."
"Are you crazy?" She goggled at him.
"Maybe." As he searched her eyes, he caught an interesting flicker. "But part of you likes the idea."
She turned away with a scoff. "Every part of me wishes to God I had never done this."
Affronted, he thumbed her spot, made her quiver. "Every part?"
"Stop!" She spun away, covering her breasts with the sheet. "Look. I admit it, okay, you are... amazing in bed. You're... superhumanly amazing. I can't say I didn't enjoy some... moments." At his arched brow, she corrected, "Or even the whole... yeah, okay, all of it, but it's over now. You got what you wanted from me and now I have to get out of here and face my mistakes and figure out what to do."
"I think you misinterpreted my use of the word 'affair', Buffy. I want to have an affair with you. Not a fling. Not a one-night stand. Affair implies a long-term commitment and that's what I intend to have with you."
"You don't get to decide these things alone! Relationships are not one-sided."
"This isn't one-sided. You're not gonna be able to stay away from me, Buffy. You're gonna crave me like..." He picked up the cigar she'd rubbed on her pussy and slid it under his nose, "like I crave these."
"You think you know me, just because we..." Her mouth tightened. "You don't."
Before she got out of bed, he seized her by the waist, pulled her down to her side and held her tight.
"Let me go!"
"Please, Buffy," he said, his front pressed against her back, his cheek resting on hers. "Please don't go."
"Spike--"
He pet the small of her back, causing tremors and gasps, and said it once more, lower, softer, and in French this time. "Please don't go, minette. I beg you. Stay with me."
"It's not fair. You're not being fair."
"I never said I would be." He probed two fingers into her, kissed her neck, rubbed her spot.
Mouth open wide in silent moan, she writhed with him, her buttocks involuntarily stroking his stiffening cock.
"You're so sweet," he whispered. "So sweet."
"Hunh," she whispered, turning to jelly in his arms, "I hate you."
"No," he said, and aimed his cock at her slippery crevice, "you don't."
"Hhhhhunh!"
He held her in thrall that way, ruthlessly pressing all of her buttons, fucking her firm and slow. At the crest of her orgasm, he turned onto his back so she could ride him. Eyelids heavy, he watched her ass rise and fall, felt her tight channel spasm, her hot nectar ooze out onto him while she moaned and bounced in delirious rapture. Her hair was tangled and unkempt, her backside was plastered in rose petals, she reeked of sex and sweat and stale champagne... and he'd never been so turned on in his life.
There was a knock at the door. Buffy froze.
"Fuck," he breathed, and kept her ass moving. "Don't stop."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Go away," Spike growled through clenched teeth.
"Your breakfast, sir--"
"Leave it, you sodding git!"
He could tell she was thrown. Intellectually, she didn't approve of the way he'd spoken to his butler and if it were up to her brain, she likely would have fled, principles fluttering. However, her body wasn't quite in tune with her mind: at his harsh words, her pussy twitched and rewetted his cock, and when the butler's footsteps retreated, she began to bounce again. Not at all tentatively.
Well, well. Spike smirked. I know which part of you likes a man in charge.
So, he pushed her face into the duvet, gathered her hair in his fist and pistoned into her with abandon, bedframe rattling against the wall, until he'd filled her with his jism and she'd well and truly exhausted her vocal chords.
Breath sawing out, he collapsed on her back and said in French, "Breakfast, baby?"
* * *
Sitting on throw pillows at the bedroom window, curtains drawn to the view of the Seine, they picked from the breakfast tray on the floor. Bundled in an oversized white bathrobe, she stared out the window until she finally said in an appealingly hoarse voice, "Please don't pay me for this weekend."
He put down his tea. "What will Lindsey say if I don't?"
"I'll figure something out. Just -- please don't."
"Buffy, don't be silly. I would never think of you that way."
She glanced his way. "Except for that time you first met me."
He chuckled, chastened. "Right. Well. Honest mistake, that."
"Because everything about me just screams 'hooking my way through college'."
"In my defense, I did think you were the prettiest one they'd ever sent."
Was that a blush? She opened a roll, slathered it with jam, licked her finger and watched a tour boat go by. "What do you--" She bit her lip.
Spike waited as she gathered her courage.
"What do you do with them?" She looked down at her roll. "The... the girls?"
Carefully, he considered his answer. "Not a single thing I've done with you."
Buffy frowned. "Wait, you don't--?"
"Last time I kissed a woman was the last time I had intercourse."
"You're..." She blinked several times. "You're kidding me."
"Why would I kid about that?"
"But -- eight years? Why?"
He shrugged. "High standards."
She stared at him.
"Mr. Pratt, sir?" Another knock at the door. "The young lady's luggage has arrived."
"Yeah, thanks, Nigel." Spike popped a muffin tuft into his mouth, and noticed that Buffy was still staring. "What?"
She shook her head, brow creasing in confusion, and averted her gaze to her uneaten roll.
"A billion pennies for your thoughts."
"You're the mindreader. You tell me."
He touched two fingers to his temple and feigned meditation. "You want me to spread strawberry jam all over your spot and lick it off." He clucked his tongue. "Naughty, naughty."
She snorted. "You're way off base."
"But now it's all you can think about, yeah?"
"Spike. I just showered. I've lost my voice. I'm sore. I don't have any fluids left!" She backed up as he crawled after her with the jam jar. "Don't make me all sticky and nasty again!"
"See, all I hear is 'Spike, make me sticky and nasty'... 'n something about being showered with fluids." Looming over her, he daubed her lower lip with jam. "Look at that lip... gonna get it..."
Giving in as he sucked on her lip, she opened his robe and eskimo-kissed him. "This is the last time."
* * *
Buffy hissed and quivered as ice water trickled down her slit and onto the throw pillow. "Cold!"
He pressed the glass to her sticky, condiment-coated pussy and rolled it back and forth. "How's that feel?"
She arched her back. "Mmmmnice."
Spike took it away to have a sip, then kept an ice cube in his mouth. With his tongue, he pushed it deep inside of her.
Her squealing was even cuter in that scratchy voice. And even louder when he shoved the next cube into her asshole.
"Ahhhhh! Spike!"
"Mmm?"
As the ice melted, so did she. She put her feet on his shoulders, touched his mussed hair, and began to ride his tongue. "Mmm..."
"Mmm," he agreed.
Soon, she was pinching his ears and bucking into his face, babbling, "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, oh GOD don't stop!"
Ahead of schedule. He raised his head.
"What?! Why'd you stop?" She drummed her heels on his back, pointed her pussy at his chin and whined, "I'm so close!"
"Let me get this straight." He teased her inner thighs. "You want me to make you come just one more--"
"Yes! Okay? Please! Please, one more, just... yeah... yeah... right there... unh, unh, unh, UUUUNNNNH!"
He scooped up a handful of whipped butter and climbed up her body. "I love the way you prove me right."
"Whoa!" She'd happened to notice him buttering her asshole. "What are you doing?"
"You're sore. I'm fucking you elsewhere."
"Wait, no-- Let me... with my mouth--"
"No," he said a little too harshly, and softened. "I told you. I don't think of you that way."
She blinked. "But--"
He squinted at her. "Have you never done this before?"
"I have, just not with--"
She didn't have to say his name. Saving it as a special gift for the husband, was she? "D'you not enjoy it, then?"
"I don't know. Not especially..."
His balls tightened at the prospect. "Let me show you how to love it. I swear to you I can."
"Spike, no, it's the one thing--"
He entreated her with his eyes. "Let me try. S'il te plaît."
She swallowed. "Okay."
* * *
"Wow," she said, panting as they unraveled into twin spent heaps on the floor. "Oh. Wow."
Mind blown and body rocked, Spike nodded. "Well put."
"God, you are..." She held her forehead, puffed out a few ragged breaths. "You oughta be ashamed of yourself."
"Huh?"
"Depriving the women of the world of that for eight years? Shame on you. Shame!"
He laughed. "Saved it all up for you, baby."
"I don't get it." Talking aloud to herself, she feebly reached for her robe, rising to her knees. "What's so special about me?"
Did she really not know? He caught her elbow, made her look at him. "Everything, Buffy. You are gorgeous and sexy and clever and fiery and... fun! Don't you see? You're everything a man could want."
Eyes wide, her lips quivered and closed. "I'm gonna -- go take another shower."
Fuck. "Buffy--"
She was already scrambling off.
With a rueful sigh, he dropped his head to the floor.
Read on... >>
A NOTE ABOUT PLAGIARISM: Don't do it. Call me crazy, but I don't like finding my hard work pasted into other people's stories. If I find out you've plagiarized me or any other author, I will make sure everyone knows it. If you're not clear on what 'plagiarism' means, the definition is here.
Tags: crave, crave (teh filf), fanfiction, human au fic
Chapter 12 (Part 1 of 2): Devil May Care
читать дальше
awesome banner by dampersnspoons
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So, there's one fade-to-black sex scene here, partly because I've written that kind of scene so many times that I was, frankly, clean out of fresh ideas. But mostly it's because -- and this is why the last chapter bled out of me so slowly -- while I can clearly visualize their white-hot sex, don't get me wrong, I'm really more into their relationship than anything else. I want to know how they interact *between* all the sex, you know? Of course, I always try to use my sex scenes as a stage for relationship development so they're not just boring and gratuitous time-outs, but you get my point, right? If you're dying to know how that sex scene went down, I may add it in later if inspiration strikes... or, you could read the corresponding chapters of Older, In Heat, HDL, etc etc...
Which is not to say that there isn't a load of gratuitous smut in this chapter. There is. I'm not made of stone, for pete's sake.
Special thanks to Sotia, Sarah, fancysemantics, chosen, jamalov, rebcake, colorofangels and vampybabe for your extra-mile feedback! So very appreciated. Yes, I AM a quote whore. Who told you?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He'd forgotten how it felt -- waking up to a girl he actually liked.
First, there was a warm rush of Won Her victory trailed by a hot swell of Keep Her desire... both of which were then stabbed through the heart by an icy blade of Don't Be A Ruddy Fool, You Daft Wanker.
"Anyone's the Devil in this room, it's you," he whispered as he slid a lock of hair out of her sleeping face. "Put me under a spell but good."
The corners of her mouth turned up.
I'll be damned. He'd be remiss if he didn't announce the occasion: "There's my smile."
Her eyes fluttered open. She focused on him, her smile faded, and then came the inevitable face of revulsion he'd been hoping to delay: "Oh, god."
He rolled his eyes.
Buffy sat up and held her head. "Oh, god!"
"Is this the part where you blame the absinthe and play at not remembering?" Spike wasn't having it. She may have been buzzed enough to shed her inhibitions, but he'd bet his entire fortune she knew perfectly damned well what she was doing. "If so, wake me when it all comes flooding back."
"Spike! This was easy for you. Not for me, okay?"
That... actually made sense. "Yeah, okay."
"You had nothing to lose. I have... everything... Oh, god."
She was falling apart. He sat up, touched her hair. "Buffy. He doesn't ever have to know."
"You don't understand." She swatted his hand away. "That's not the way we are. I don't know how I can ever face him again!"
"So don't," Spike said with an ever-so-casual shrug, not sure where the idea was coming from. "Stay here with me. Here in Paris."
"Are you crazy?" She goggled at him.
"Maybe." As he searched her eyes, he caught an interesting flicker. "But part of you likes the idea."
She turned away with a scoff. "Every part of me wishes to God I had never done this."
Affronted, he thumbed her spot, made her quiver. "Every part?"
"Stop!" She spun away, covering her breasts with the sheet. "Look. I admit it, okay, you are... amazing in bed. You're... superhumanly amazing. I can't say I didn't enjoy some... moments." At his arched brow, she corrected, "Or even the whole... yeah, okay, all of it, but it's over now. You got what you wanted from me and now I have to get out of here and face my mistakes and figure out what to do."
"I think you misinterpreted my use of the word 'affair', Buffy. I want to have an affair with you. Not a fling. Not a one-night stand. Affair implies a long-term commitment and that's what I intend to have with you."
"You don't get to decide these things alone! Relationships are not one-sided."
"This isn't one-sided. You're not gonna be able to stay away from me, Buffy. You're gonna crave me like..." He picked up the cigar she'd rubbed on her pussy and slid it under his nose, "like I crave these."
"You think you know me, just because we..." Her mouth tightened. "You don't."
Before she got out of bed, he seized her by the waist, pulled her down to her side and held her tight.
"Let me go!"
"Please, Buffy," he said, his front pressed against her back, his cheek resting on hers. "Please don't go."
"Spike--"
He pet the small of her back, causing tremors and gasps, and said it once more, lower, softer, and in French this time. "Please don't go, minette. I beg you. Stay with me."
"It's not fair. You're not being fair."
"I never said I would be." He probed two fingers into her, kissed her neck, rubbed her spot.
Mouth open wide in silent moan, she writhed with him, her buttocks involuntarily stroking his stiffening cock.
"You're so sweet," he whispered. "So sweet."
"Hunh," she whispered, turning to jelly in his arms, "I hate you."
"No," he said, and aimed his cock at her slippery crevice, "you don't."
"Hhhhhunh!"
He held her in thrall that way, ruthlessly pressing all of her buttons, fucking her firm and slow. At the crest of her orgasm, he turned onto his back so she could ride him. Eyelids heavy, he watched her ass rise and fall, felt her tight channel spasm, her hot nectar ooze out onto him while she moaned and bounced in delirious rapture. Her hair was tangled and unkempt, her backside was plastered in rose petals, she reeked of sex and sweat and stale champagne... and he'd never been so turned on in his life.
There was a knock at the door. Buffy froze.
"Fuck," he breathed, and kept her ass moving. "Don't stop."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Go away," Spike growled through clenched teeth.
"Your breakfast, sir--"
"Leave it, you sodding git!"
He could tell she was thrown. Intellectually, she didn't approve of the way he'd spoken to his butler and if it were up to her brain, she likely would have fled, principles fluttering. However, her body wasn't quite in tune with her mind: at his harsh words, her pussy twitched and rewetted his cock, and when the butler's footsteps retreated, she began to bounce again. Not at all tentatively.
Well, well. Spike smirked. I know which part of you likes a man in charge.
So, he pushed her face into the duvet, gathered her hair in his fist and pistoned into her with abandon, bedframe rattling against the wall, until he'd filled her with his jism and she'd well and truly exhausted her vocal chords.
Breath sawing out, he collapsed on her back and said in French, "Breakfast, baby?"
* * *
Sitting on throw pillows at the bedroom window, curtains drawn to the view of the Seine, they picked from the breakfast tray on the floor. Bundled in an oversized white bathrobe, she stared out the window until she finally said in an appealingly hoarse voice, "Please don't pay me for this weekend."
He put down his tea. "What will Lindsey say if I don't?"
"I'll figure something out. Just -- please don't."
"Buffy, don't be silly. I would never think of you that way."
She glanced his way. "Except for that time you first met me."
He chuckled, chastened. "Right. Well. Honest mistake, that."
"Because everything about me just screams 'hooking my way through college'."
"In my defense, I did think you were the prettiest one they'd ever sent."
Was that a blush? She opened a roll, slathered it with jam, licked her finger and watched a tour boat go by. "What do you--" She bit her lip.
Spike waited as she gathered her courage.
"What do you do with them?" She looked down at her roll. "The... the girls?"
Carefully, he considered his answer. "Not a single thing I've done with you."
Buffy frowned. "Wait, you don't--?"
"Last time I kissed a woman was the last time I had intercourse."
"You're..." She blinked several times. "You're kidding me."
"Why would I kid about that?"
"But -- eight years? Why?"
He shrugged. "High standards."
She stared at him.
"Mr. Pratt, sir?" Another knock at the door. "The young lady's luggage has arrived."
"Yeah, thanks, Nigel." Spike popped a muffin tuft into his mouth, and noticed that Buffy was still staring. "What?"
She shook her head, brow creasing in confusion, and averted her gaze to her uneaten roll.
"A billion pennies for your thoughts."
"You're the mindreader. You tell me."
He touched two fingers to his temple and feigned meditation. "You want me to spread strawberry jam all over your spot and lick it off." He clucked his tongue. "Naughty, naughty."
She snorted. "You're way off base."
"But now it's all you can think about, yeah?"
"Spike. I just showered. I've lost my voice. I'm sore. I don't have any fluids left!" She backed up as he crawled after her with the jam jar. "Don't make me all sticky and nasty again!"
"See, all I hear is 'Spike, make me sticky and nasty'... 'n something about being showered with fluids." Looming over her, he daubed her lower lip with jam. "Look at that lip... gonna get it..."
Giving in as he sucked on her lip, she opened his robe and eskimo-kissed him. "This is the last time."
* * *
Buffy hissed and quivered as ice water trickled down her slit and onto the throw pillow. "Cold!"
He pressed the glass to her sticky, condiment-coated pussy and rolled it back and forth. "How's that feel?"
She arched her back. "Mmmmnice."
Spike took it away to have a sip, then kept an ice cube in his mouth. With his tongue, he pushed it deep inside of her.
Her squealing was even cuter in that scratchy voice. And even louder when he shoved the next cube into her asshole.
"Ahhhhh! Spike!"
"Mmm?"
As the ice melted, so did she. She put her feet on his shoulders, touched his mussed hair, and began to ride his tongue. "Mmm..."
"Mmm," he agreed.
Soon, she was pinching his ears and bucking into his face, babbling, "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, oh GOD don't stop!"
Ahead of schedule. He raised his head.
"What?! Why'd you stop?" She drummed her heels on his back, pointed her pussy at his chin and whined, "I'm so close!"
"Let me get this straight." He teased her inner thighs. "You want me to make you come just one more--"
"Yes! Okay? Please! Please, one more, just... yeah... yeah... right there... unh, unh, unh, UUUUNNNNH!"
He scooped up a handful of whipped butter and climbed up her body. "I love the way you prove me right."
"Whoa!" She'd happened to notice him buttering her asshole. "What are you doing?"
"You're sore. I'm fucking you elsewhere."
"Wait, no-- Let me... with my mouth--"
"No," he said a little too harshly, and softened. "I told you. I don't think of you that way."
She blinked. "But--"
He squinted at her. "Have you never done this before?"
"I have, just not with--"
She didn't have to say his name. Saving it as a special gift for the husband, was she? "D'you not enjoy it, then?"
"I don't know. Not especially..."
His balls tightened at the prospect. "Let me show you how to love it. I swear to you I can."
"Spike, no, it's the one thing--"
He entreated her with his eyes. "Let me try. S'il te plaît."
She swallowed. "Okay."
* * *
"Wow," she said, panting as they unraveled into twin spent heaps on the floor. "Oh. Wow."
Mind blown and body rocked, Spike nodded. "Well put."
"God, you are..." She held her forehead, puffed out a few ragged breaths. "You oughta be ashamed of yourself."
"Huh?"
"Depriving the women of the world of that for eight years? Shame on you. Shame!"
He laughed. "Saved it all up for you, baby."
"I don't get it." Talking aloud to herself, she feebly reached for her robe, rising to her knees. "What's so special about me?"
Did she really not know? He caught her elbow, made her look at him. "Everything, Buffy. You are gorgeous and sexy and clever and fiery and... fun! Don't you see? You're everything a man could want."
Eyes wide, her lips quivered and closed. "I'm gonna -- go take another shower."
Fuck. "Buffy--"
She was already scrambling off.
With a rueful sigh, he dropped his head to the floor.
Read on... >>
A NOTE ABOUT PLAGIARISM: Don't do it. Call me crazy, but I don't like finding my hard work pasted into other people's stories. If I find out you've plagiarized me or any other author, I will make sure everyone knows it. If you're not clear on what 'plagiarism' means, the definition is here.
Tags: crave, crave (teh filf), fanfiction, human au fic
@темы: Сперто. Без суда и следствия., spuffy, Spike, Buffy&Angel, Crave, NautiBitz, Buffy, fanfiction