All About Spike

Three Tiny Ficlets
By Mint Witch

TITLE: Action

PAIRING: S/B

RATING: NC-17 for this part, itís just smut.

SPOILERS: Through Smashed/Wrecked

DISCLAIMER: Joss is God, blah blah blah.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My writing train has derailed; Search & Rescue are on their way.

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask, but thus far I havenít turned anyone down. Cuz Iím a big ho. And ff.net, eventually. Maybe. I havenít decided yet.

FEEDBACK: Did I mention that Iím a big Ďho? mintwitch@livejournal.com



Sheís moving on me, riding me like water, a languid wave that breaks over me with a crash of wood and plaster. Her face is open and vulnerable, her mouth a surprised oval. I am beneath her, still and always beneath her. The bruises blossoming on my back prove it, but I donít care. Iím drowning. The waves break harder, faster, her hips rocking and rolling, and Iím coming, oh god, Iím coming, itís amazing. Itís nothing and everything. God yes, finally Iím drowning in her, and itís so good.

Her weight on me is soothing and exciting. Sheís warm and soft, so alive. I run my hands over her ass, sweet Jesus, her ass. Where does this skirt end? Oh there, yes, warm, soft flesh, bare to my starving hands. Beautiful, wonderful, perfect: the perfect ass. Each cheek fits just so into my hands and I squeeze. I want to squeeze and squeeze until she oozes between my fingers.

Muscled thighs splayed over my groin, supple and relaxed. Up her thighs, over her hips, taunting me, teasing my curious cock. Teasing her, talking to her, I canít shut up. ďYour ass, you have the most perfect ass. When you walk it speaks to me, it begs to be fucked, to be spanked, kissed, and held. I want to bite it.Ē Her hitching breath makes me jump inside her and I know: now, again, donít pause, he who hesitates is lost.

I roll us over, surrounded by her heat. I want to burrow inside of her, pull her around me and never come out. Give her everything. Take it, take me, take everything, itís all for her. Eat me alive. Sheís panting and moving under me, grabbing at my arms. Every stroke is the first and last. I canít think, my brain is in my dick, sliding in and out of her. ďOh yes, sweet pussy, kitten, tiger, so warm--Ē It hurts so good, her fingers digging into me, ripping me apart.

Sheís so beautiful, itís unreal. This canít be real. Iím banging the fucking Slayer, and if I should die before I wake then there is a God.



TITLE: Climax

PAIRING: S/B

RATING: PG, but Iím posting it here anyway. So there. :-P

SPOILERS: Through As You Were

DISCLAIMER: Joss is God, blah blah blah.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My writing train has derailed; Search & Rescue are on their way.

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask, but thus far I havenít turned anyone down. Cuz Iím a big ho. And ff.net, eventually. Maybe. I havenít decided yet.

FEEDBACK: Did I mention that Iím a big Ďho? Mintwitch@yahoo.com



Hello love:

This is probably a bloody stupid idea; I canít see myself actually mailing it. I used to do this a lot, back in the day. Relentless monologues of eternal love and angelic beauty, and all that. If the git wasnít already dead, Iíd kill him myself. But we donít need to go over my sordid past again, now do we pet? However, I miss our single, stupid conversation, so this is what you get. Moving right along now.

Crypt is all spruced up. Wasnít easy either. Looked like a bomb had gone off down there. Big surprise, that. But I got it all cleaned up, nicked a rug and some linens. Finding a new bed, now that was something of a challenge. Finally got the goods from a guy in a truck. Least I didnít steal the bed.

Good thing most of the important stuff is upstairs. Still got Passions and somewhere to keep my blood. Been watching a lot of Passions the past few. Donít think Timmy will be a real boy anytime soon.

Dawn stopped by. Thought you should know about that. You might want to clue her in if my place is off limits. She didnít mention it, so thought Iíd better. I would like it, if itís okay with you of course, if she could still stop by. Guess Iíll find out if I ever mail this, wonít I. I like your sister; sheís good company. Donít get much of that.

Clem asked after you at poker the other night. He wants you to know he really enjoyed your party. Stupid git hasnít quit talking about it since. Hate to tell you this pet, but your party was a dog. Trapped with the Scoobies for two days, attacked by a sword-wielding demon, that prat Richard-- Iíve been to better wakes.

Hope youíre doing well.

Ta,

Spike



TITLE: Resolution

PAIRING: S/B

RATING: PG

SPOILERS: Through Entropy

DISCLAIMER: Joss is God, blah blah blah.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: My writing train has derailed; Search & Rescue are on their way.

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask, but thus far I havenít turned anyone down. Cuz Iím a big ho. And ff.net, eventually. Maybe. I havenít decided yet.

FEEDBACK: Did I mention that Iím a big Ďho? Mintwitch@yahoo.com



The company of the dead is not always comforting. They rustle and whisper, voices on the edge of hearing. Their faint indecipherable cries compel one to listen closely to what they might say, what gems of wisdom may fall from rotted lips.

Itís an illusion, of course. Their whispers are the slither of worms, the rustle of mice, the creak and shift of bones as flesh falls to dust. Still, the illusion is more comfortable than real silence would be. True silence means that you are alone, completely alone, and that cannot be endured.

So I stay here, sleeping among the dead, taking comfort where I find it. Perhaps someday Iíll move, find another tomb in which to rest my own corpse. Not yet, though. Not quite yet. If I moved, she might not be able to find me. I need her to be able to find me. I crave accidental encounters among the headstones. So Iíll stay here awhile yet, just in case, you understand.

Just in case.

She could need me. I never need you, Spike. She could change her mind. Itís over. Something could happen. This doesnít change anything.

I should move, maybe, leave even. Go somewhere. But not quite yet. Soon though, next month perhaps. Then Iíll go, get on with my un-life. I could get the chip out; thereís a thought. Get my rocks back. Donít have to depend on those government boys; thereís a shaman or two could manage it, I wager.

Thatís what Iíll do. Iíll look up some old chums, have a little fun. Get my head examined. Grab a bite to eat, maybe. Yeah, thatís what Iíll do.

Itís been a while since I got take out. I used to love Chinese.

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