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I'm not Calla...
Aug. 31st, 2005 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essene_backup...I only play her on LJ.
Hello darling ones! This is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dancetomato posting for the ever so lovely yet tired essene at her request.
Essene is fantastic and splendiforous. In my humble opinion. That's not what she told me to tell you. She said to tell you that she is alive and well. She's liking her new job except for Section 42. She's not getting lost every day anymore. Which is quite the accomplishment, because this part of the world is fiendish in terms of design of highway systems, traffic management, and signage. Expect a post soonish that tells you more. I.e. will go on and on in schmoopy detail about how much she loves Dancetomato, who is witty and charming and sexay.
*cough* Anyway, now I am told to take dictation. Spawnder, except not.
Dawn tapped the pencil against her teeth. She hated Mr. Henderson for assigning so many trig problems every night. And she hated that Willow was never home to help her with her homework, because she was always out with Kennedy [DT: *makes sour face* Essene: "I know, I'm sorry."] training new slayers. Dawn stared at the calendar and noticed a penciled note. Xander. Of course. He was all constructiony type. That had to do with math, right?
She pushed back her chair, and went off through the house to search for him. She really appreciated this new living situation now that they'd moved to Cleveland. It was good to have everyone you could ever possibly need to save the world in one convenient location. Not to mention a variety of people with different areas of expertise to rely on for homework help. Just yesterday she'd gone to Robin to dicuss the outcomes of Reconstruction after the Civil War.
She went out the french doors and across the courtyard, happy that Giles had convinced Buffy to buy this place. She entered the french doors on the opposite side and headed for Xander's "office". She had her hand on the doorknob to open the door when she heard low voices and the sound of...scraping?
She put her ear to the door because who was she to pass up an opportunity to eavesdrop? She listened with the intensity of a nosy teenager. Was that grunting? And she could swear she heard a whispered curse that sounded faintly British. Giles? She pressed her ear closer. All she could hear was more scraping and harsh grunting. What the hell was going on in there?
Slowly and quietly she twisted the knob, opening the door a crack and positioning herself so that she could peer inside.
She almost fell through the door.
Xander had Spike on top of his desk, legs in the air. And, oh God, no clothes. No, there were clothes. But no pants. And no underwear. And, oh my God, was Xander really doing what she thought he was? And to Spike?
She knew she shouldn't watch. But she couldn't help but stare at the muscles in Xander's ass flex and release as he thrust forward into Spike. She couldn't help but stare at Spike's white knuckles as he gripped the edge of the desk. She couldn't help but stare at the intensity with which the two looked at each other. She couldn't help but stare at the way both of their jaws were clenched in fierce concentration. It was when Spike's eyes closed that she finally stopped staring and closed the door. She'd find someone else to help her with her trig. Xander was busy working on an equation of his own and now she had better things to do with her hands than trig..
Fin
Hello darling ones! This is
dancetomato posting for the ever so lovely yet tired essene at her request.Essene is fantastic and splendiforous. In my humble opinion. That's not what she told me to tell you. She said to tell you that she is alive and well. She's liking her new job except for Section 42. She's not getting lost every day anymore. Which is quite the accomplishment, because this part of the world is fiendish in terms of design of highway systems, traffic management, and signage. Expect a post soonish that tells you more. I.e. will go on and on in schmoopy detail about how much she loves Dancetomato, who is witty and charming and sexay.
*cough* Anyway, now I am told to take dictation. Spawnder, except not.
Dawn tapped the pencil against her teeth. She hated Mr. Henderson for assigning so many trig problems every night. And she hated that Willow was never home to help her with her homework, because she was always out with Kennedy [DT: *makes sour face* Essene: "I know, I'm sorry."] training new slayers. Dawn stared at the calendar and noticed a penciled note. Xander. Of course. He was all constructiony type. That had to do with math, right?
She pushed back her chair, and went off through the house to search for him. She really appreciated this new living situation now that they'd moved to Cleveland. It was good to have everyone you could ever possibly need to save the world in one convenient location. Not to mention a variety of people with different areas of expertise to rely on for homework help. Just yesterday she'd gone to Robin to dicuss the outcomes of Reconstruction after the Civil War.
She went out the french doors and across the courtyard, happy that Giles had convinced Buffy to buy this place. She entered the french doors on the opposite side and headed for Xander's "office". She had her hand on the doorknob to open the door when she heard low voices and the sound of...scraping?
She put her ear to the door because who was she to pass up an opportunity to eavesdrop? She listened with the intensity of a nosy teenager. Was that grunting? And she could swear she heard a whispered curse that sounded faintly British. Giles? She pressed her ear closer. All she could hear was more scraping and harsh grunting. What the hell was going on in there?
Slowly and quietly she twisted the knob, opening the door a crack and positioning herself so that she could peer inside.
She almost fell through the door.
Xander had Spike on top of his desk, legs in the air. And, oh God, no clothes. No, there were clothes. But no pants. And no underwear. And, oh my God, was Xander really doing what she thought he was? And to Spike?
She knew she shouldn't watch. But she couldn't help but stare at the muscles in Xander's ass flex and release as he thrust forward into Spike. She couldn't help but stare at Spike's white knuckles as he gripped the edge of the desk. She couldn't help but stare at the intensity with which the two looked at each other. She couldn't help but stare at the way both of their jaws were clenched in fierce concentration. It was when Spike's eyes closed that she finally stopped staring and closed the door. She'd find someone else to help her with her trig. Xander was busy working on an equation of his own and now she had better things to do with her hands than trig..
Fin
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 12:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 01:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 03:09 am (UTC)Who cares about homework when you have homemade boiporn?!
Delicious!
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 05:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 06:35 pm (UTC)she couldn't help but stare at the muscles in Xander's ass flex and release as he thrust forward into Spike. She couldn't help but stare at Spike's white knuckles as he gripped the edge of the desk.
Can you blame her? The image, oh the image. You draw it so well.