Ok, so, I had nothing for the last round and haven’t written a damn thing for almost 2 months. Then someone posted this amazing picture of Spike on the EF Discussion page…
It was taken from a tumblr post by JPratt. That’s all I know about it, other than it sparked an immediate need to write something about sexy Spike.
ETA: kazzy_cee has recognized the picture as one of her old manips, so someone seems to have added text to that to make a meme. Tumblr is a mystery to me, so I’ve no idea if that’s kosher or not.
So, for free for all day, I have this un-beta’d, thrown together in a hurry, probably likely to be tweaked out of all recognition at some point, little Spuffy ficlet. I’m hoping the awesome picture shows up. Otherwise, the title will make little sense….
COME SIT WITH ME…
Buffy came downstairs with a load of dirty sheets and glanced over at Spike. He was shirtless, slouched against the cinderblock wall, one arm over his head, chain dangling, the other resting just beside his crotch. His pants were zipped, but unfastened and the chains were barely visible except for the one over his head. She was so focused on his exposed torso that it took her a second or two to raise her eyes to his face. She was immediately sorry she had…
The look he was giving her was like nothing she’d seen from him since he’d returned with his soul. A sudden rush of memories sent an additional rush of moisture into her panties, making her clench her legs together.
“Sit up!” she squeaked, then cleared her throat. “I mean, sit up and put your shirt on!”
“Why?” he asked, all innocence as he flexed the arm over his head and brought it down to rest on his hip, his hands now framing a growing bulge in his jeans.
Think, Buffy! Why?
“Yes, why?” he repeated, sitting up never the less, but making no move to cover himself. “I’ve got pants on. It’s not like I’m sitting around naked down here.”
“You might as well be,” she muttered, tearing her eyes away to drop the dirty sheets on the floor in front of the washer. “And fasten your pants! You look like you were about to—I mean… they need to be fastened. Now.”
Suddenly the reason the washing machine had been in constant use all day until Andrew declared it “broken” was becoming more clear. She rolled her eyes at the stupidity of the giggling potentials upstairs. She let herself take another quick glance in his direction.
“Why don’t you come over here and fasten them for me?” he purred, running one hand down his chest to the top of the zipper.
Buffy mentally shook herself and fought her body’s reaction to his invitation.
“You can’t be sitting around like that if the girls come down here.”
“What if they do?” He rattled his chains. “It’s not like I’m going to ravish anyone from over here, is it?” He looked annoyed briefly, then smiled at her and raised one eyebrow. “They’d have to come to me for it, wouldn’t they?” He slouched a bit more and tilted his hips up.
Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, pushing her inappropriate urge to focus on the bulge away as she studied his face and eyes.
“What’s wrong with you? You don’t act like this. Not anymore.”
“Act like what?” he asked, standing up and stretching, arms high over his head. “Don’t you like what I’m doing, Buffy? I think you do….” He peered at her from between his toned biceps. “What do you think I’m acting like?”
Her gaze hardened with sudden realization. “Like you’re not really in charge right now.”
“Oh, but I am in charge,” he said with a soft laugh. “Completely in charge. Got all your juices flowing, haven’t I? You want this body, and you don’t much care if I’m really in it or not. Isn’t that right, Slayer? Think about it, you can have this body and do whatever you want with it, chains an’ all.”
In spite of herself, Buffy moved closer, trying to keep her eyes on his face rather than the body she didn’t want to admit she missed more than she wanted him to know.
“What happened? How did he get to you?”
“You think something’s still pulling my strings? I’m hurt.” He gave her a pouty face, but his eyes were dancing. He licked his lips and beckoned her closer.
“You’re not hurt. You’re still being controlled by the First. I thought you were free now.”
“Guess I lied,” he said, tongue curling up. “I think you should punish me.” He leered at her, rubbing his hand over his erection.
“Or maybe I should just do what Giles wants and stake you,” she replied, sliding a stake into her hand but making no attempt to follow through. Spike laughed, but backed up until his knees hit the cot.
“Now that’s not a very–”
His face twisted into a snarl as he seemed to be fighting an internal battle. He paid no attention to her, his body rigid while he growled and muttered curses.
Suddenly, the preening vampire collapsed in on himself. Without falling down, Spike seemed to shrink several inches as his shoulders hunched and his head dropped. He began to quake, staring at the floor and shaking his head.
“Oh god! Forgive me! I’m sorry. I never–you should stake me. Now, while you know I won’t fight back.” He sank to the floor and raised tear filled eyes to hers. “Please, Buffy. Do it now before I hurt someone. Before I hurt you.”
She bit her lip, her common sense fighting with the knowledge that souled Spike was back and in charge of the now-sobbing man on the floor. Dropping the stake, she fell to her knees beside him and put her arms around his shaking shoulders.
“Shhhh. Stop. It’s okay. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”
“Get away from me,” he said, tensing up. “I’m not safe, Buffy. Get away from me before I hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she said confidently. “He can’t control you while I’ve got you. You won’t let him. I trust you, Spike.”
“Then you are a very foolish woman…” Suddenly her arms were pinned to her sides as he brought his up to band tightly around her body. Before she could react to the abrupt change, she felt him shaking again as snarled words spilled from his lips. Instead of flinging herself away, Buffy softened her body and nuzzled his chest.
“You can do this, Spike. I believe in you. Throw him out. Tell him to get lost. You belong to me!“
Disregarding the fangs just visible behind his lips and the guttural snarls still coming from him, Buffy fastened her mouth on his and held it there until his fangs vanished and he was kissing her back.
“You’re mine,” she repeated as she broke the kiss. “The First can’t have you.”
“Yours,” he sighed, pulling his head back to meet her confident gaze. “Always will be.” He smiled shyly. “Think he got that message, love.”
They remained together on the floor for several minutes, enjoying the physical closeness that they’d denied themselves since he came back into her life. Finally, Buffy gave him a small hug and pushed herself to her feet. Without speaking, she walked up the stairs and locked the basement door before returning to put the sheets into the washer. She peered over her shoulder at him.
“Why don’t you get back on the bed and relax,” she said. “I’m just going to start the washing machine and then….”
“And then what, love?” Spike stood up and stared at her, his confusion plain.
“And then, I’m coming over there to help you with those jeans….”