Birthday Fic!
It is the birthday of two lovely and talented women today, fer1213 and flurblewig! I hope you both have wonderful days, full of prezzies and pampering. And cake!
And flurblewig, would you like a fic? Give me an idea, a pairing, a something and I'd be happy to oblige.
This particular fic is for fer, as it is another interlude in the "Slow Motion" verse (aka, the ferverse in my head ;-)). It follows Slow Motion and Roman Holiday, and is rated R. If you haven't read those, or have forgotten the setting, this is a post-NFA verse in which Buffy and Spike are a couple, but are in a long-distance relationship.
I would also like to thank cinderhub, as his phone call yesterday inspired this particular fic. Have I mentioned he's been gone a lot lately? ;-)
Without further adieu...
The Next Best Thing
"What are you wearing?"
He'd been sound asleep when the phone rang, about to let loose with a round of obscenities at whichever telemarketer had awoken him from a perfectly good Buffy dream - where was Blue when you needed her, anyway? - when the sound of Buffy's voice changed his mood a hundred and eighty degrees. Hadn't seen her in three sodding months, as there'd been an increase in demon activity in both LA and Rome, lately. 'Why can't they go to Florida in the winter like everybody else?' Buffy had asked. Their separations were getting more and more difficult, and he found that he lived for these phone calls.
"I said, what are you wearing?" she teased.
"Not a bloody stitch," he said, letting his head fall back on the pillow. "And you?"
"Think pink," she said.
"Oh, I am. I'm thinking of your soft, pink little...."
Her laughter bubbled up out of her like champagne bubbles from a fluted glass. "I meant pink clothing! Well, not clothing, exactly. At least nothing I'd wear in public. And that's saying a lot, as you've seen my wardrobe."
He smiled. "Ah, wearing that little number I sent you, are you? Wasn't sure you'd like it."
"Of course I like it! It's beautiful. And silk. And expensive, I'm thinking."
"Wouldn't believe how much you pay for so little fabric," he mused.
"Is this the part where I say, 'you shouldn't have!'? Because I'm really glad you did."
Spike chuckled, and heard an unidentified sound from her end of the phone. "Buffy?"
"Mmmm. I love the way you laugh. Have I ever told you that?"
"Don't think so, pet." She'd told him a lot, though. Things he'd never imagined she'd say. He'd discovered during their time apart that talking via the telephone really opened her up. She seemed to be able to say things to him that she might not have had the nerve to, face to face. Seemed this long distance thing did have its advantages, after all.
"I love the way you talk, too. Just the sound of your voice gets me excited. Gets me hot."
"Buffy - God, I miss you."
Her voice turned playful. "Yeah? Well what would you want me to do, if I was there right now?"
He glanced down, where a tent had been erected from the sheet covering his waist.
"Whatever you want to do." As long as you do it now.
"Hmmm. Whatever I want. Let's see...first, I'd give you a good, long look at the gift you sent me."
"How do you look in it, pet?"
"Fabulous. It's the perfect fit, and the perfect color. Not too bright, not too dark. Just right."
Spike squeezed his eyes shut, and felt his breathing getting faster. "I know. Imagined you in it, how it'd look against your skin, your hair..."
"Did you imagine how it would feel? How silky smooth it would be as it slid across your body, how it would feel under your hands as you..."
"Buffy..." He bit his lip and drew blood.
"Are you touching yourself now?"
Yes, she'd really opened up. God. His breathing was becoming raggedy, and he barely got out an answer. "Yeah."
"Because that's what I would be doing. but I'd start at the top, and work my way down. And not just with my hands, either. No, I'd start with my mouth."
His own hands seemed to be moving of their own accord, but now he tried to hold back, because this was just too good. The sheets bunched in his fingers as he forced them to his sides. "What...what would you do with that beautiful mouth?"
"Well the first thing I'd do..."
"Yeah?"
"Is get up close to your ear..."
"Uh huh..."
"And tell you how much I miss you. And love you."
And that was all the self control he could muster, her words sending him over the edge, his response to her unintelligible. But he thought, when he started thinking again, that she probably got the gist of it.
"Love? You still there?" he asked, after retrieving the phone from where it had fallen away from his ear.
She giggled . "Yes. All dressed up and no place to go."
"Poor baby. But you better not be going anywhere, if all your wearin's that little scrap."
"Actually," she said, "I told a little lie. I am wearing something else." His apartment door swung open, and a vision in a trench coat stood in the doorway. She stepped into the room in her three inch pumps, closing the door and her phone in the same motion, and gave him a sly smile.
"Surprise." Before he could move, she loosened her belt and let her coat fall open, revealing the tiny chemise he'd given her underneath. "And it's a good thing this is a warm climate."
The coat slipped from her shoulders and puddled on the floor before she stalked over to the bed, in full femme fatale mode.
"Christ, Slayer. Tryin' to kill me again?"
She grinned at him, hands on hips. "Don't get too used to it. I usually wear one of your t-shirts to bed. They're comfy, and they smell like you."
That he found this to be the sexiest thing he'd ever heard, he didn't let on.
Kicking off her heels, she climbed onto the bed and made her way up his body. Teasing, not touching, but allowing the silky fabric to brush against his skin, making him groan. Finally, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. Her lips brushed against him as she spoke, and he shivered.
"I missed you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And I love you."
What was that old saying, that a phone call was the next best thing to being there? Maybe, but being there was so much better.
And flurblewig, would you like a fic? Give me an idea, a pairing, a something and I'd be happy to oblige.
This particular fic is for fer, as it is another interlude in the "Slow Motion" verse (aka, the ferverse in my head ;-)). It follows Slow Motion and Roman Holiday, and is rated R. If you haven't read those, or have forgotten the setting, this is a post-NFA verse in which Buffy and Spike are a couple, but are in a long-distance relationship.
I would also like to thank cinderhub, as his phone call yesterday inspired this particular fic. Have I mentioned he's been gone a lot lately? ;-)
Without further adieu...
The Next Best Thing
"What are you wearing?"
He'd been sound asleep when the phone rang, about to let loose with a round of obscenities at whichever telemarketer had awoken him from a perfectly good Buffy dream - where was Blue when you needed her, anyway? - when the sound of Buffy's voice changed his mood a hundred and eighty degrees. Hadn't seen her in three sodding months, as there'd been an increase in demon activity in both LA and Rome, lately. 'Why can't they go to Florida in the winter like everybody else?' Buffy had asked. Their separations were getting more and more difficult, and he found that he lived for these phone calls.
"I said, what are you wearing?" she teased.
"Not a bloody stitch," he said, letting his head fall back on the pillow. "And you?"
"Think pink," she said.
"Oh, I am. I'm thinking of your soft, pink little...."
Her laughter bubbled up out of her like champagne bubbles from a fluted glass. "I meant pink clothing! Well, not clothing, exactly. At least nothing I'd wear in public. And that's saying a lot, as you've seen my wardrobe."
He smiled. "Ah, wearing that little number I sent you, are you? Wasn't sure you'd like it."
"Of course I like it! It's beautiful. And silk. And expensive, I'm thinking."
"Wouldn't believe how much you pay for so little fabric," he mused.
"Is this the part where I say, 'you shouldn't have!'? Because I'm really glad you did."
Spike chuckled, and heard an unidentified sound from her end of the phone. "Buffy?"
"Mmmm. I love the way you laugh. Have I ever told you that?"
"Don't think so, pet." She'd told him a lot, though. Things he'd never imagined she'd say. He'd discovered during their time apart that talking via the telephone really opened her up. She seemed to be able to say things to him that she might not have had the nerve to, face to face. Seemed this long distance thing did have its advantages, after all.
"I love the way you talk, too. Just the sound of your voice gets me excited. Gets me hot."
"Buffy - God, I miss you."
Her voice turned playful. "Yeah? Well what would you want me to do, if I was there right now?"
He glanced down, where a tent had been erected from the sheet covering his waist.
"Whatever you want to do." As long as you do it now.
"Hmmm. Whatever I want. Let's see...first, I'd give you a good, long look at the gift you sent me."
"How do you look in it, pet?"
"Fabulous. It's the perfect fit, and the perfect color. Not too bright, not too dark. Just right."
Spike squeezed his eyes shut, and felt his breathing getting faster. "I know. Imagined you in it, how it'd look against your skin, your hair..."
"Did you imagine how it would feel? How silky smooth it would be as it slid across your body, how it would feel under your hands as you..."
"Buffy..." He bit his lip and drew blood.
"Are you touching yourself now?"
Yes, she'd really opened up. God. His breathing was becoming raggedy, and he barely got out an answer. "Yeah."
"Because that's what I would be doing. but I'd start at the top, and work my way down. And not just with my hands, either. No, I'd start with my mouth."
His own hands seemed to be moving of their own accord, but now he tried to hold back, because this was just too good. The sheets bunched in his fingers as he forced them to his sides. "What...what would you do with that beautiful mouth?"
"Well the first thing I'd do..."
"Yeah?"
"Is get up close to your ear..."
"Uh huh..."
"And tell you how much I miss you. And love you."
And that was all the self control he could muster, her words sending him over the edge, his response to her unintelligible. But he thought, when he started thinking again, that she probably got the gist of it.
"Love? You still there?" he asked, after retrieving the phone from where it had fallen away from his ear.
She giggled . "Yes. All dressed up and no place to go."
"Poor baby. But you better not be going anywhere, if all your wearin's that little scrap."
"Actually," she said, "I told a little lie. I am wearing something else." His apartment door swung open, and a vision in a trench coat stood in the doorway. She stepped into the room in her three inch pumps, closing the door and her phone in the same motion, and gave him a sly smile.
"Surprise." Before he could move, she loosened her belt and let her coat fall open, revealing the tiny chemise he'd given her underneath. "And it's a good thing this is a warm climate."
The coat slipped from her shoulders and puddled on the floor before she stalked over to the bed, in full femme fatale mode.
"Christ, Slayer. Tryin' to kill me again?"
She grinned at him, hands on hips. "Don't get too used to it. I usually wear one of your t-shirts to bed. They're comfy, and they smell like you."
That he found this to be the sexiest thing he'd ever heard, he didn't let on.
Kicking off her heels, she climbed onto the bed and made her way up his body. Teasing, not touching, but allowing the silky fabric to brush against his skin, making him groan. Finally, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. Her lips brushed against him as she spoke, and he shivered.
"I missed you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And I love you."
What was that old saying, that a phone call was the next best thing to being there? Maybe, but being there was so much better.