Fanfic 100
Title: The Way Things Are
Claim: William the Bloody (aka Spike's Humanity)
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 392
Summary: No matter how much Buffy gives him, it's never enough.
Spike was never in control. Never. He tried so hard to be, but he knew it was a lost cause before he even started. When had he ever been in charge? Not with Dru. Certainly not with her. Not even in his own household had he been in control. No. Angelus had always been the one. Always been there to smash him back down just when he thought things were going his way. And now…now he wasn’t about to fool himself for a second that he was anything but a lapdog. Still, being a dog had its perks.
Buffy moaned deliciously underneath him. He liked to be on top. It was the only time he really felt he had the upper hand. For those brief moments they shared together, he controlled her pleasure. He brought those delicious sounds to her lips. He made her happy, even if only for a little while. Spike plunged into the Slayer beneath him roughly, just how she liked it. She shuddered all around him as he paused, breathing in the moment.
“Spike…” she whispered longingly. She needed him. She wanted him. She was nothing without him.
He plunged into her again. Hard. Almost painful.
“You’re mine, Slayer,” he rasped harshly, not believing his own words.
She rolled her hips toward him and he up upped the pace. Again and again he slammed into her, making the bed creak ominously. She writhed beneath him, moaning and gasping. She clutched at him and, for a few precious moments, Spike was able to fool himself. She did need him. She did want him. She did love him. She was his.
He came abruptly, deep inside her, and she grunted in surprise. She was unsatisfied, which was uncommon for them. Usually it was Spike who found himself left behind, unfulfilled. It didn’t matter much. They had acres of time ahead of them, but it still grated. She always came first, both literally and figuratively. He knew that, and, absurdly, he felt ashamed. For a long moment he stayed buried deep inside her, imagining what it would be like to roll off her, take her in his arms, and drift off to sleep.
But that was not how they did things. It would never be how they did things. Spike knew it, and he had little choice but to accept it.
Claim: William the Bloody (aka Spike's Humanity)
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 392
Summary: No matter how much Buffy gives him, it's never enough.
Spike was never in control. Never. He tried so hard to be, but he knew it was a lost cause before he even started. When had he ever been in charge? Not with Dru. Certainly not with her. Not even in his own household had he been in control. No. Angelus had always been the one. Always been there to smash him back down just when he thought things were going his way. And now…now he wasn’t about to fool himself for a second that he was anything but a lapdog. Still, being a dog had its perks.
Buffy moaned deliciously underneath him. He liked to be on top. It was the only time he really felt he had the upper hand. For those brief moments they shared together, he controlled her pleasure. He brought those delicious sounds to her lips. He made her happy, even if only for a little while. Spike plunged into the Slayer beneath him roughly, just how she liked it. She shuddered all around him as he paused, breathing in the moment.
“Spike…” she whispered longingly. She needed him. She wanted him. She was nothing without him.
He plunged into her again. Hard. Almost painful.
“You’re mine, Slayer,” he rasped harshly, not believing his own words.
She rolled her hips toward him and he up upped the pace. Again and again he slammed into her, making the bed creak ominously. She writhed beneath him, moaning and gasping. She clutched at him and, for a few precious moments, Spike was able to fool himself. She did need him. She did want him. She did love him. She was his.
He came abruptly, deep inside her, and she grunted in surprise. She was unsatisfied, which was uncommon for them. Usually it was Spike who found himself left behind, unfulfilled. It didn’t matter much. They had acres of time ahead of them, but it still grated. She always came first, both literally and figuratively. He knew that, and, absurdly, he felt ashamed. For a long moment he stayed buried deep inside her, imagining what it would be like to roll off her, take her in his arms, and drift off to sleep.
But that was not how they did things. It would never be how they did things. Spike knew it, and he had little choice but to accept it.