![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essene_backupAll I can do at this point is shake my head. Do they have meetings for this?
She stayed. Fuck if she was leaving now. She came here with intentions and she was going to follow them through. He had to come back before the sun came up anyway.
But he didn't.
And she started to panic. Her mom was going to wake up soon and start coffee. Buffy'd be up not long after and then they'd come for her, just like they did every Saturday when all she wanted to do was sleep in undisturbed. They had some crazy notion that staying in bed past noon was no way to spend a weekend.
She looked out the crypt door. The birds had started to chirp, the sun was glowing just out of sight over the mountains. It would be fully up soon. If he didn't come now, he wasn't coming. And if she didn't leave now, there'd be hell to pay at home.
She made her decision. She quickly scanned the room to see if there was anything...there. She wrapped it around herself to shield her near-nudity and ran for home.
She climbed up the tree just like she used to when she was in elementary school, carefully made the leap from branch to roof and shimmied in her window.
Opening her door she quietly scurried through the house, making sure all was still and silent. With a huge sigh, she re-entered her room and stretched out on her bed.
She knew she'd have to put it away soon. Buffy would recognize it right away. But for now...
She tucked her nose into the neck and smelled him: smoke, whiskey, blood, must, musk. Her hand trailed down the lapel and lightly fingered the nipple it draped, and continued down between her thighs. With one hand she caressed and stroked the worn leather, with the other she caressed and stroked her own folds, concentrating on the hard little nub while she breathed his scent in and his name out, "Spike, Spike, Spike..." She needed something more this time. Her fingers weren't enough. She'd felt him, huge and hard and knew that her small hand just wouldn't do. She looked at her dresser...nothing, her nightstand...maybe? She reached out, pulled it out of the base, wiped the end off and brought the end of the candle down to meet her quivering flesh. She inhaled slightly as she pushed it up inside her. It felt stiff and unforgiving, but she also felt, so full. She pumped it slowly...in and out, in and out, matching the rhythm of the finger on her clit for a time. Then she increased the speed of her hands and her hips, rising off the bed to meet the candle so tightly gripped in her own hand. She couldn't push it as far as she wanted, there was some sort of...barrier there. But she drove it in and out of her pussy as far as she dared while she worked her clit furiously, imagining all the while his mouth, his fingers, his arms, his body wrapped around her, making her feel so good. She turned her head just in time to clench the leather between her teeth, and smother her scream with his taste.
She came in wave after wave of sensation, each clench of her pussy letting more of her liquid drip out and onto his duster. If only she could roll up in it and sleep, cradled by this symbol of him. Instead, she folded it gingerly and stowed it under the mass of shoes in her closet.
Yawning, she fell asleep with her sock-monkey Mr. Monkeybottoms wrapped in her arms.
She stayed. Fuck if she was leaving now. She came here with intentions and she was going to follow them through. He had to come back before the sun came up anyway.
But he didn't.
And she started to panic. Her mom was going to wake up soon and start coffee. Buffy'd be up not long after and then they'd come for her, just like they did every Saturday when all she wanted to do was sleep in undisturbed. They had some crazy notion that staying in bed past noon was no way to spend a weekend.
She looked out the crypt door. The birds had started to chirp, the sun was glowing just out of sight over the mountains. It would be fully up soon. If he didn't come now, he wasn't coming. And if she didn't leave now, there'd be hell to pay at home.
She made her decision. She quickly scanned the room to see if there was anything...there. She wrapped it around herself to shield her near-nudity and ran for home.
She climbed up the tree just like she used to when she was in elementary school, carefully made the leap from branch to roof and shimmied in her window.
Opening her door she quietly scurried through the house, making sure all was still and silent. With a huge sigh, she re-entered her room and stretched out on her bed.
She knew she'd have to put it away soon. Buffy would recognize it right away. But for now...
She tucked her nose into the neck and smelled him: smoke, whiskey, blood, must, musk. Her hand trailed down the lapel and lightly fingered the nipple it draped, and continued down between her thighs. With one hand she caressed and stroked the worn leather, with the other she caressed and stroked her own folds, concentrating on the hard little nub while she breathed his scent in and his name out, "Spike, Spike, Spike..." She needed something more this time. Her fingers weren't enough. She'd felt him, huge and hard and knew that her small hand just wouldn't do. She looked at her dresser...nothing, her nightstand...maybe? She reached out, pulled it out of the base, wiped the end off and brought the end of the candle down to meet her quivering flesh. She inhaled slightly as she pushed it up inside her. It felt stiff and unforgiving, but she also felt, so full. She pumped it slowly...in and out, in and out, matching the rhythm of the finger on her clit for a time. Then she increased the speed of her hands and her hips, rising off the bed to meet the candle so tightly gripped in her own hand. She couldn't push it as far as she wanted, there was some sort of...barrier there. But she drove it in and out of her pussy as far as she dared while she worked her clit furiously, imagining all the while his mouth, his fingers, his arms, his body wrapped around her, making her feel so good. She turned her head just in time to clench the leather between her teeth, and smother her scream with his taste.
She came in wave after wave of sensation, each clench of her pussy letting more of her liquid drip out and onto his duster. If only she could roll up in it and sleep, cradled by this symbol of him. Instead, she folded it gingerly and stowed it under the mass of shoes in her closet.
Yawning, she fell asleep with her sock-monkey Mr. Monkeybottoms wrapped in her arms.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-16 08:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-16 08:26 pm (UTC)Come on...you know you've experimented...I won't tell a soul ::eep::
Yes, named after the fabu Mr. Monkeybottoms herself!
Oops, maybe I should have asked if she wanted her name bandied about in a dirty!Spawn fic...oh well.
no subject
Date: 2003-08-16 09:14 pm (UTC)