So it's the 500th prompt over at ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
slash_the_drabble, and I got inspired. Funny how that works, eh?
The prompt was 'Fantasies', and this...happened. :D
At AO3
Title from Daydream Believer by the Monkees
"Please, Spike, I'll do anything - please!" Buffy said, and there were tears in those big, hazel eyes. Tears streaking her mascara down those downy, peach-soft cheeks.
"Anything, Slayer?" Spike said, and he grinned, showing his fangs. In his arms, the Watcher drooped, oxygen cut off, his clutching fingers weakening, dropping away. His glasses hung askew.
"Anything at all, I promise, please...."
"Alright, then," Spike said, and he let the unconscious Watcher drop from his hands - leapt across the room and onto Buffy, driving her to the ground. Hands on her shoulder, and in her hair, pinning her, and she was so warm under him, and so soft, and her heart was pounding, a flutter against Spike's ribs like a bird. She smelled like fruit gum and fear, salt and sorrow.
"What I want...is for you to die," Spike growled, and her skin parted under his fangs like butter, her blood was spice and heat and magic, pouring into him, roaring through him, making him hot, making him hard, making him, making him -
"Hey, Fangless Wonder! What the hell are you doing?"
Spike blinked, coming back to himself. Staring at Xander's scrunched up, angry face above yet another ugly, gaudy shirt.
"Are you listening? There's a real Big Bad in town, I'm gonna go do something useful. And you are not staying here while I'm out."
"Fine," Spike snarled, uncoiling from the chair, snatching up smokes and lighter and coat.
"What the hell is up with you? I called your name like - ten times," Xander said, jiggling the key in the lock, wrestling with the sticky tumblers. "Remembering your glory days?"
"Something like that," Spike said, and reached up to smooth his fingers over the healing scar on the back of his head. "Something...like that."
slash_the_drabble, and I got inspired. Funny how that works, eh?The prompt was 'Fantasies', and this...happened. :D
At AO3
Title from Daydream Believer by the Monkees
"Please, Spike, I'll do anything - please!" Buffy said, and there were tears in those big, hazel eyes. Tears streaking her mascara down those downy, peach-soft cheeks.
"Anything, Slayer?" Spike said, and he grinned, showing his fangs. In his arms, the Watcher drooped, oxygen cut off, his clutching fingers weakening, dropping away. His glasses hung askew.
"Anything at all, I promise, please...."
"Alright, then," Spike said, and he let the unconscious Watcher drop from his hands - leapt across the room and onto Buffy, driving her to the ground. Hands on her shoulder, and in her hair, pinning her, and she was so warm under him, and so soft, and her heart was pounding, a flutter against Spike's ribs like a bird. She smelled like fruit gum and fear, salt and sorrow.
"What I want...is for you to die," Spike growled, and her skin parted under his fangs like butter, her blood was spice and heat and magic, pouring into him, roaring through him, making him hot, making him hard, making him, making him -
"Hey, Fangless Wonder! What the hell are you doing?"
Spike blinked, coming back to himself. Staring at Xander's scrunched up, angry face above yet another ugly, gaudy shirt.
"Are you listening? There's a real Big Bad in town, I'm gonna go do something useful. And you are not staying here while I'm out."
"Fine," Spike snarled, uncoiling from the chair, snatching up smokes and lighter and coat.
"What the hell is up with you? I called your name like - ten times," Xander said, jiggling the key in the lock, wrestling with the sticky tumblers. "Remembering your glory days?"
"Something like that," Spike said, and reached up to smooth his fingers over the healing scar on the back of his head. "Something...like that."
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