"Coming Clean" Spike/Buffy - Adult - drabble
Posted: Sat Aug 06, 2005 2:21 am
Title: “Coming Clean”
Author: femmenerd
Pairing: Buffy/(Spike), Buffy POV
Rating: Adult
Genre: drabblish/one parter
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy, except my Spike fantasies.
Summary: Some things you can’t wash clean…like your memory. Buffy, water pressure and Spike flashbacks. Vaguely angsty.
Author’s Note: Everyone has their post-Smashed ficlet. This is mine.
She could see her fingers trembling as she turned on the faucet. The shaking was subtle but continued unabated as she fiddled with the hot water and then the cold to find the right combination.
Buffy stood, naked and slightly glassy-eyed contemplating the water as it began to fill the tub. When she looked down her eyes grazed over the rough, passion-induced bruise marks left over from last night. <i>“I guess even if you’re the Slayer, you can’t fuck a house down without having something to show for it,”</i> she thought and almost smiled at her own quasi-funny even though she was currently an emotional blank sheet as far as she could tell.
Before she had been angry and horny and sad and desperate and a few other emotions she wasn’t familiar with all at once, but now as she stood contemplating her toes and the porcelain tub, she couldn’t tell exactly how she felt. Well, besides shell-shocked and surprised at herself.
She slipped down ass first into the bath and let out a sigh when the warm water hit her skin. Her muscles were sore from fighting-sex-fighting-sex and the water felt good.
She closed her eyes and unbidden images of him rushed up – churning flashes of bleached-blonde sex, danger and leather. She squirmed and tried to push them away.
<i>“This isn’t me!”</i> yelled her mind.
But then another internal voice whispered about how maybe this <i>was</i> her and no one could see it but him. No one else was as straight up with her or as strong as she was. No one else would ever fuck her like that – raw and complete.
She was so tired. So tired and so dirty.
She found herself scrubbing at her skin as if that would somehow remove the memory of last night – of how she had let a soul-less monster fuck her into oblivion and how she had given back what she had taken almost twice-fold.
More soap. Maybe more soap would remove the taint of cunt-trembling need and previously unknown desires.
But it didn’t work and her mind filled again, this time with the ghost of his breathless voice whispering <i>“Slayer”</i> into her ear as his cock hit the breaking point of her pain and transformed it into pleasure.
She moaned and the rebellious pussy twitched at the thought of him. That part of her that refused to follow with the Buffy-brain protocol called out for Spike insistently.
Buffy touched herself there in an attempt to quiet the monster. The soap bubbles on her fingers stung her delicate, pink, fuck-worn flesh and she cried out.
<i>“I can’t get clean.”</i>
She shimmied down to the front of the tub to the place where the water cascaded from the faucet and positioned herself beneath the heavy stream. Telling herself that this was just to get the soap out.
But when the delicious pressure hit her clit she couldn’t pretend anymore.
Spike. Spike. Spike. Spike.
When she closed her eyes, it was his tongue that lapped at her exhausted pussy, and his phantom cock that her inner walls contracted around, his crooked grin looking down on her as she arched her back and shuddered, biting her lip too hard as she came and came and came.
No. This wouldn’t wash off.
Author: femmenerd
Pairing: Buffy/(Spike), Buffy POV
Rating: Adult
Genre: drabblish/one parter
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy, except my Spike fantasies.
Summary: Some things you can’t wash clean…like your memory. Buffy, water pressure and Spike flashbacks. Vaguely angsty.
Author’s Note: Everyone has their post-Smashed ficlet. This is mine.
She could see her fingers trembling as she turned on the faucet. The shaking was subtle but continued unabated as she fiddled with the hot water and then the cold to find the right combination.
Buffy stood, naked and slightly glassy-eyed contemplating the water as it began to fill the tub. When she looked down her eyes grazed over the rough, passion-induced bruise marks left over from last night. <i>“I guess even if you’re the Slayer, you can’t fuck a house down without having something to show for it,”</i> she thought and almost smiled at her own quasi-funny even though she was currently an emotional blank sheet as far as she could tell.
Before she had been angry and horny and sad and desperate and a few other emotions she wasn’t familiar with all at once, but now as she stood contemplating her toes and the porcelain tub, she couldn’t tell exactly how she felt. Well, besides shell-shocked and surprised at herself.
She slipped down ass first into the bath and let out a sigh when the warm water hit her skin. Her muscles were sore from fighting-sex-fighting-sex and the water felt good.
She closed her eyes and unbidden images of him rushed up – churning flashes of bleached-blonde sex, danger and leather. She squirmed and tried to push them away.
<i>“This isn’t me!”</i> yelled her mind.
But then another internal voice whispered about how maybe this <i>was</i> her and no one could see it but him. No one else was as straight up with her or as strong as she was. No one else would ever fuck her like that – raw and complete.
She was so tired. So tired and so dirty.
She found herself scrubbing at her skin as if that would somehow remove the memory of last night – of how she had let a soul-less monster fuck her into oblivion and how she had given back what she had taken almost twice-fold.
More soap. Maybe more soap would remove the taint of cunt-trembling need and previously unknown desires.
But it didn’t work and her mind filled again, this time with the ghost of his breathless voice whispering <i>“Slayer”</i> into her ear as his cock hit the breaking point of her pain and transformed it into pleasure.
She moaned and the rebellious pussy twitched at the thought of him. That part of her that refused to follow with the Buffy-brain protocol called out for Spike insistently.
Buffy touched herself there in an attempt to quiet the monster. The soap bubbles on her fingers stung her delicate, pink, fuck-worn flesh and she cried out.
<i>“I can’t get clean.”</i>
She shimmied down to the front of the tub to the place where the water cascaded from the faucet and positioned herself beneath the heavy stream. Telling herself that this was just to get the soap out.
But when the delicious pressure hit her clit she couldn’t pretend anymore.
Spike. Spike. Spike. Spike.
When she closed her eyes, it was his tongue that lapped at her exhausted pussy, and his phantom cock that her inner walls contracted around, his crooked grin looking down on her as she arched her back and shuddered, biting her lip too hard as she came and came and came.
No. This wouldn’t wash off.
