Birthday Present Fic: Stranger
Title: Stranger(1/1)
Fandoms: HIMYM/Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Crossover)
Characters/Pairing: Lily/Spike
Summary: Lily is out with Scooter when a stranger catches her attention. Set during Goth!Lily's senior year at High School.
Rating: NC 17 for sex and some DARK ANGSTY STUFF. Do not read if you're looking for fluff :P
Written for: snogged - Smut Goddess - on the occasion of the celebration of her birth. I'm sorry it gets a rather dark and angsty. I don't know why or how that happened, I just hope you like it nonetheless.
Lily clutches at her bottle of beer, unhappy that it's empty again so soon. Scooter is drenched in sweat, clumpy strands of his hair cling to his neck as he head bangs along to the heavy metal band that's playing in the crowded, dingy underground club full of goths, heavily tattoed and body-pierced from head to toe. They only got in because Scooter's cousin is the drummer, and Lily's already tired and bored and wishing she could escape that hell-hole of a dungeon. Scooter was cool, he looked like Kurt Cobain and they'd been happily dating for a month, but this place is full of creeps and weirdos and the band is as bad as a bunch of gorillas on speed. She needs another beer.
Before Scooter can notice and protest, she pushes through the crowd on her own, edging away towards the bar. Four quick beers in, she's pretty out of it already, and the clashing of the drums and the jarring riff of the electric guitars grate most unpleasantly on her nerves and she presses the palms of her hands over her ears to just block out the noise. Pale faces jump at her from the shadows, grimaces and leers and the flash of silver spikes and hooks and the guttural screaming overpowers her senses.
She's thrown out of the crowd and somehow finds herself pushed up against the bar, the six-foot tall bartender recognizes her and reaches under the bar for another bottle as he grabs the cash she's stuck under his nose. She downs half the bottle in a gulp and waits as the world spins out of control. She should be going home but the beer tastes so good, she likes this loss of control, it frees her and entraps her all at once and transports her to another plane of existance where nothing matters and everything is tiny and humungous and blurred and sharp all at the same time.
She's leaning against the bar with her eyes closed and takes another long swig when she feels the hairs on the nape of her neck suddenly prickle up. A shiver runs through her as someone brushes past her. Her eyes snap open. Instead of body heat, she feels a chill sweep over her bare arm as he passes by, his platinum blonde hair a stark contrast to the multitudes of dark-haired goths in the room. His profile is striking, his eyes icy and focussing on nothing, yet she gets the feeling he sees everything, and she thinks he looks like a 14th century marble scutpture come to life and clad in black leather.
She awkwardly sips at the what's left of her beer as she tries to watch him out of the corner of her eye. She has no idea why she's so drawn to this man, but he radiates power, raw passion and his eyes - she doesn't know if she can ever look right into his-
He downs two massive shots of a dark, concentrated alcohol one after the other without even flinching and she catches the ripple of his jawbone under his pale skin. She swallows, fantasizing what it would be like to run her hands over his firm chest and under the skin-tight shirt, to feel his lean long arms wrapped around her, hands moving over every inch of her back and her ass while she grinds against him and -
Oh fuck, his eyes are on her, and she's caught, trapped in his intense stare. Her breath catches in her throat- he's looking right into her soul, his cold cold eyes reading every thought, every intention, his eyes making a mockery of the 17-year-old horny pathetic little virgin with badly-dyed hair and chipped black nailpolish who's drunk out of her mind and useless, hopeless, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic-
He turns and regards her with a sneer of disdain (why the fuck does she find him so freaking hot when he clearly is looking at her like she's a bug not even worth squashing under his boot) and before she can even blink, his fingers are firmly clamped around her arm and he literally lifts her off her feet (like she's some kind of rag-doll) and sweeps her into a dark curtained-off corner of the room behind the stage. He throws her down roughly against the pile of empty drum cases and coils of wire and falls on top of her, running a hand through her hair and pulling at it roughly, looking closely at her in the darkness, his face inches from hers (is he...smelling her?!) and her scalp is burning where he's yanking at her hair but she only trembles beneath him, she's shocked into silence, can't believe he's on top of her like this when all she wants is for this dark and twisted angel to lick her, bite her, ravage her...
"Red..."
The sound of his voice sends a shiver right through her. The last thing she was expecting was the British accent.
"...but you're not her...you don't have her power. And you...you want me to take you, don't you...you little harlot?"
She moans against his cheek as he presses his body into her, whispering that last word into her ear, his lips and teeth grazing over her skin. She can feel the wires and straps and edges of boxes under her digging painfully into her back, his chest presses against her breasts, making her nipples ache and she's already wet, so so wet for him, and she feels a gentle throbbing in the walls of her pussy as the blood rushes between her legs where he's pressed hard against her, his belt buckle cold against the burning base of her exposed stomach where her black shirt has ridden up.
He chuckles low in her ear as his icy cold hand slides roughly up under her shirt, pressing like a cold brand against her hot, flushed skin. His fingers push under her black lacy bra and squeeze her breast slowly but hard as he trails his teeth slowly down her jaw from ear to chin, his tongue lapping at her pearly soft skin as he wedges his knee between her clenched thighs. She latches desperately around him, wraps her arms around his back and digs her fingers into him. She slowly rocks and rubs her body against him, the pleasure from the friction gradually building inside her till she's at about to explode - like she's a branch of a willow slowly catching fire and bursting into flames.
He's biting her neck now, still rubbing one hand over her breast and she gasps as his other hand finds its way under her skirt. He roughly pushes the crotch of her panties aside and pushes a finger in her, his thumb running from the wetness at her opening up to her clit which is hard, swollen, burning, aching, and she shudders violently under him, her back arching and her thighs trembling as he strokes her nub harder and harder with his cold cold finger. She can feel his teeth, sharp and grating against her skin, right above her pulse and she hears him breath her scent in, like a hungry animal who wants to just devour her and she comes, the walls of her pussy crashing against his finger which is hooked inside her and pressing into her aching sweet spot, and she cries out when he pushes in a second finger and bites even harder into her neck, she feels his teeth penetrating her skin and the pain and the pleasure comes crashing down on her and she can't hold back as she cries and she moans and she's screaming, raw and low and primal till she can't scream any more, till her brain blanks out and sparks explode behind her half-closed eyelids as waves of ecstasy pulse through her throbbing body.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly against him as she struggles to catch her breath as she comes down from the orgasm, the throbbing in her pussy slowing erratically around his fingers. He slips them out of her a little too soon, and she aches even more when her pussy throbs at the emptiness. The sharp, sweet pain in her neck is gone, and she feels the cool wetness of his saliva (or is that her blood?) on her broken skin as he pulls away, his attention now completely diverted away from her as he cocks his head to one side. She can't see his face in the darkness, but the faint outline of his brow is furrowed and twisted (in concentration?) He's frozen, listening intently while the band and the crowd roar on beyond the curtain (did someone hear her scream?) and he sniffs the air once more (like an animal that can smell someone approaching) and whips to his feet.
By the time she pulls herself up on her elbows, he's gone. The slight flutter of the dark curtain in his wake is barely perceptible. She pulls herself up and winces at the bolt of pain that shoots through the side of her neck.
*-*-*
She stumbles out into the crowd to find Scooter and nearly knocks him over when she does, throwing herself into his arms and begging him to get her out of there. He drives her home, but halfway there she makes him stop the car in the middle of a park, and she straddles him in the back seat, kissing his mouth hard and guiding his fingers to her pussy as she slips her hand inside his boxers and strokes his cock hard.
But he's clumsy, he's nervous and overwhelmed. He doesn't want to do this here and now and she gives up, collapses on top of him, cursing him drunkenly, angrily, beats her fists against his chest until he wraps his arms tightly around her and just holds her, kisses her forehead and her hair and just holds on to her till her sobbing resides, till her anger and frustration gives way to fatigue and she stops moving, stops resisting. Eventually, she pulls up away from him and crawls into the passenger seat, softly asking him to just take her home.
*-*-*
AN2: I have no authority whatsoever to be writing Buffyverse characters into HIMYM settings, considering I haven't watched any of it at all. I just wanted to try this pairing since Spike/Willow is one of Snogged's fav pairings ;) Belated Happy Birthday darling!! &hearts
P-to-the-S: I don't know how long and hard (heh) a vampire is supposed to bite you before you transform into one yourself. I'm just assuming he went easy on Lily so it didn't really have any transformative effects on her. Oh, if only Marshall knew his Lilypad almost became a vampire!!
Fandoms: HIMYM/Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Crossover)
Characters/Pairing: Lily/Spike
Summary: Lily is out with Scooter when a stranger catches her attention. Set during Goth!Lily's senior year at High School.
Rating: NC 17 for sex and some DARK ANGSTY STUFF. Do not read if you're looking for fluff :P
Written for: snogged - Smut Goddess - on the occasion of the celebration of her birth. I'm sorry it gets a rather dark and angsty. I don't know why or how that happened, I just hope you like it nonetheless.
Lily clutches at her bottle of beer, unhappy that it's empty again so soon. Scooter is drenched in sweat, clumpy strands of his hair cling to his neck as he head bangs along to the heavy metal band that's playing in the crowded, dingy underground club full of goths, heavily tattoed and body-pierced from head to toe. They only got in because Scooter's cousin is the drummer, and Lily's already tired and bored and wishing she could escape that hell-hole of a dungeon. Scooter was cool, he looked like Kurt Cobain and they'd been happily dating for a month, but this place is full of creeps and weirdos and the band is as bad as a bunch of gorillas on speed. She needs another beer.
Before Scooter can notice and protest, she pushes through the crowd on her own, edging away towards the bar. Four quick beers in, she's pretty out of it already, and the clashing of the drums and the jarring riff of the electric guitars grate most unpleasantly on her nerves and she presses the palms of her hands over her ears to just block out the noise. Pale faces jump at her from the shadows, grimaces and leers and the flash of silver spikes and hooks and the guttural screaming overpowers her senses.
She's thrown out of the crowd and somehow finds herself pushed up against the bar, the six-foot tall bartender recognizes her and reaches under the bar for another bottle as he grabs the cash she's stuck under his nose. She downs half the bottle in a gulp and waits as the world spins out of control. She should be going home but the beer tastes so good, she likes this loss of control, it frees her and entraps her all at once and transports her to another plane of existance where nothing matters and everything is tiny and humungous and blurred and sharp all at the same time.
She's leaning against the bar with her eyes closed and takes another long swig when she feels the hairs on the nape of her neck suddenly prickle up. A shiver runs through her as someone brushes past her. Her eyes snap open. Instead of body heat, she feels a chill sweep over her bare arm as he passes by, his platinum blonde hair a stark contrast to the multitudes of dark-haired goths in the room. His profile is striking, his eyes icy and focussing on nothing, yet she gets the feeling he sees everything, and she thinks he looks like a 14th century marble scutpture come to life and clad in black leather.
She awkwardly sips at the what's left of her beer as she tries to watch him out of the corner of her eye. She has no idea why she's so drawn to this man, but he radiates power, raw passion and his eyes - she doesn't know if she can ever look right into his-
He downs two massive shots of a dark, concentrated alcohol one after the other without even flinching and she catches the ripple of his jawbone under his pale skin. She swallows, fantasizing what it would be like to run her hands over his firm chest and under the skin-tight shirt, to feel his lean long arms wrapped around her, hands moving over every inch of her back and her ass while she grinds against him and -
Oh fuck, his eyes are on her, and she's caught, trapped in his intense stare. Her breath catches in her throat- he's looking right into her soul, his cold cold eyes reading every thought, every intention, his eyes making a mockery of the 17-year-old horny pathetic little virgin with badly-dyed hair and chipped black nailpolish who's drunk out of her mind and useless, hopeless, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic-
He turns and regards her with a sneer of disdain (why the fuck does she find him so freaking hot when he clearly is looking at her like she's a bug not even worth squashing under his boot) and before she can even blink, his fingers are firmly clamped around her arm and he literally lifts her off her feet (like she's some kind of rag-doll) and sweeps her into a dark curtained-off corner of the room behind the stage. He throws her down roughly against the pile of empty drum cases and coils of wire and falls on top of her, running a hand through her hair and pulling at it roughly, looking closely at her in the darkness, his face inches from hers (is he...smelling her?!) and her scalp is burning where he's yanking at her hair but she only trembles beneath him, she's shocked into silence, can't believe he's on top of her like this when all she wants is for this dark and twisted angel to lick her, bite her, ravage her...
"Red..."
The sound of his voice sends a shiver right through her. The last thing she was expecting was the British accent.
"...but you're not her...you don't have her power. And you...you want me to take you, don't you...you little harlot?"
She moans against his cheek as he presses his body into her, whispering that last word into her ear, his lips and teeth grazing over her skin. She can feel the wires and straps and edges of boxes under her digging painfully into her back, his chest presses against her breasts, making her nipples ache and she's already wet, so so wet for him, and she feels a gentle throbbing in the walls of her pussy as the blood rushes between her legs where he's pressed hard against her, his belt buckle cold against the burning base of her exposed stomach where her black shirt has ridden up.
He chuckles low in her ear as his icy cold hand slides roughly up under her shirt, pressing like a cold brand against her hot, flushed skin. His fingers push under her black lacy bra and squeeze her breast slowly but hard as he trails his teeth slowly down her jaw from ear to chin, his tongue lapping at her pearly soft skin as he wedges his knee between her clenched thighs. She latches desperately around him, wraps her arms around his back and digs her fingers into him. She slowly rocks and rubs her body against him, the pleasure from the friction gradually building inside her till she's at about to explode - like she's a branch of a willow slowly catching fire and bursting into flames.
He's biting her neck now, still rubbing one hand over her breast and she gasps as his other hand finds its way under her skirt. He roughly pushes the crotch of her panties aside and pushes a finger in her, his thumb running from the wetness at her opening up to her clit which is hard, swollen, burning, aching, and she shudders violently under him, her back arching and her thighs trembling as he strokes her nub harder and harder with his cold cold finger. She can feel his teeth, sharp and grating against her skin, right above her pulse and she hears him breath her scent in, like a hungry animal who wants to just devour her and she comes, the walls of her pussy crashing against his finger which is hooked inside her and pressing into her aching sweet spot, and she cries out when he pushes in a second finger and bites even harder into her neck, she feels his teeth penetrating her skin and the pain and the pleasure comes crashing down on her and she can't hold back as she cries and she moans and she's screaming, raw and low and primal till she can't scream any more, till her brain blanks out and sparks explode behind her half-closed eyelids as waves of ecstasy pulse through her throbbing body.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly against him as she struggles to catch her breath as she comes down from the orgasm, the throbbing in her pussy slowing erratically around his fingers. He slips them out of her a little too soon, and she aches even more when her pussy throbs at the emptiness. The sharp, sweet pain in her neck is gone, and she feels the cool wetness of his saliva (or is that her blood?) on her broken skin as he pulls away, his attention now completely diverted away from her as he cocks his head to one side. She can't see his face in the darkness, but the faint outline of his brow is furrowed and twisted (in concentration?) He's frozen, listening intently while the band and the crowd roar on beyond the curtain (did someone hear her scream?) and he sniffs the air once more (like an animal that can smell someone approaching) and whips to his feet.
By the time she pulls herself up on her elbows, he's gone. The slight flutter of the dark curtain in his wake is barely perceptible. She pulls herself up and winces at the bolt of pain that shoots through the side of her neck.
*-*-*
She stumbles out into the crowd to find Scooter and nearly knocks him over when she does, throwing herself into his arms and begging him to get her out of there. He drives her home, but halfway there she makes him stop the car in the middle of a park, and she straddles him in the back seat, kissing his mouth hard and guiding his fingers to her pussy as she slips her hand inside his boxers and strokes his cock hard.
But he's clumsy, he's nervous and overwhelmed. He doesn't want to do this here and now and she gives up, collapses on top of him, cursing him drunkenly, angrily, beats her fists against his chest until he wraps his arms tightly around her and just holds her, kisses her forehead and her hair and just holds on to her till her sobbing resides, till her anger and frustration gives way to fatigue and she stops moving, stops resisting. Eventually, she pulls up away from him and crawls into the passenger seat, softly asking him to just take her home.
*-*-*
AN2: I have no authority whatsoever to be writing Buffyverse characters into HIMYM settings, considering I haven't watched any of it at all. I just wanted to try this pairing since Spike/Willow is one of Snogged's fav pairings ;) Belated Happy Birthday darling!! &hearts
P-to-the-S: I don't know how long and hard (heh) a vampire is supposed to bite you before you transform into one yourself. I'm just assuming he went easy on Lily so it didn't really have any transformative effects on her. Oh, if only Marshall knew his Lilypad almost became a vampire!!