herself_nyc (herself_nyc) wrote in herself_nyc_fic, @ 2008-02-18 10:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | distance: redacted part |
Fic: DISTANCE (pt 61 of ?) - redacted
This section of the fic has been redacted. I've left it here as an out-take.
Previously
She picked up the teasing of his cock, hard tight squeezes that made him grunt and swivel. Lifting her legshe was loose as taffyhe pushed into her, her cunt still wet, swollen and pillowy. She wriggled to accomodate him, until they were screwed together tight, her leg riding high over his hip, then began a pressure inside, flexing and releasing, her whole body dipping into every inner thrust. The sensation made him crazy inside, everything red and gold, an inferno in his head, another backed up in his balls, in his flaring cock. She laughed, he didn't know what at, maybe at his expression, the noises she was wringing out of him. She laughed and nipped at his mouth, and made him lose himself in long deep shudders.
Eventually Buffy slept, and though he knew she wanted him to sleep with her, he couldn't. Sleep wasn't on the cards. He most needed a kill, but in this fortified castle, all hunters no prey, that wasn't on the cards either.
He spent hours with the weights. He'd never really lifted weights beforeas a vampire, he'd never had to actually train. He rose with new strength and agility, he'd taught himself to fight, and all the rest followed. In the past, he'd never been so restless as to need to work it off with no other goal intended.
Even at four in the morning, the place was never empty. One of the slayers showed him a few things about handling the big loads.
Pilar watched him. "You want to bulk up more? That would be a shame."
"A shame, why?"
She shrugged. "You don't want to ruin your line. You're good the way you are."
She wasn't precisely flirting, but her eyes lingered.
She offered to spar with him.
"Can't do it."
"I want to learn. I'm not afraid of a broken arm."
News traveled fast, in the castle.
"You ready to fight to the death?"
"Uhwhat?"
"Didn't think so. That's all I've got on my menu at the moment, love. Table d'hote. Take it or leave it."
Pilar faded away. He lifted, and tried to clear his mind of the images that flooded in.
On the journey through the variegated hells, where he'd been a demon, tricking, fighting, maiming, killing to keep his head on his shoulders, he'd gotten the habit of telling poems over to himself. The verse he'd memorized when he was human, and in the long years since, let him pretend that he was still connected to the gentled creature who'd lain in Buffy Summers' arms. Long passages, pertinent now, of the Odyssey, in English and even in Greek. No one knew what a scholar he'd been in his youth. Nor how all of that stuck to him, even when he'd become undead, become a brute who reveled in brutishness. Why did the poetry stay in his demon mind?
All poetry was somehow about love.
And he, even as a demon, was the freak who loved: unduly, insanely, proudly. Love unmanned him and made him a man. Love turned him into the only vampire ever to seek his soul.
His muscles strained. Hunger kindled. He could sense, beyond the castle's thick walls, the sunrise. He was drowsy now.
Xander stood at the foot of the staircase, coffee mug in hand.
"Hey."
"Hullo Harris."
"Haven't had a chance to welcome you back yet," Xander said. "Welcome, Spike."
"Yeah."
"No, really." Harris didn't smile, but his one eye was serious. "I get it now. You're all right with me." He shrugged. "Realizing that you don't give a flying fuck whether you're all right with me nor not."
"No. But thanks for sayin' it."
"You okay?"
"Yeah." He wanted to be upstairs, was hoping he could get a couple of hours' kip wrapped around Buffy's warm fragrant little body, before she'd be wanting to get up.
"Buff's broken wrist was a little accident? We have them all the time. In fact, we've got the equipment here for taking x-rays, removing casts, so we don't have to trouble the hospital folks too much with our miracle two-day bone-knits."
"Fancy that."
"You didn't want it to happen. You're not crazy, like the last time you came back to us after an ordeal."
"No."
"No, of course not. You love her and all you want is to be tender to her. But you've just come back from the ass-end of hell, and instead of being tucked up in bed with your honey for a solid fortnight, as they say up here, already you've fought and wounded her, and here you are in the training room offering Pilar carte blanche."
"Table d'hote, was what I said, an' I didn't recommend it."
Harris shrugged. "Pilar's Spanish. Listen to me now. Buffy's in no shape at the moment to be as careful as she'd normally be. So I have to ask what she should've asked: is this really the right place for you to be, Spike?"
Somewhere Harris had gotten hold of a heaping spoonful of smart and swallowed it right down.
He could imagine breaking Xander's neck like the slim reed it wasin the places he'd been, he'd have done it without consideration. Part of him roared to do it now, irrespective of consequences.
But he was back on earth, and this was a test like any other. Love, like soft fragile ice, spun across to fill the breach.
"No, it's not. Which she knowsI've clued her in. As soon as Buffy's fightin' fit again, I'll go with her someplace else. Maybe you want to pick it out for us, Harris. Hottest hot-spot there is, will best suit me."
Harris squinted at him. "You going to be able to reign it in, for a couple of days? Because as much as I don't want you hurting any of the girls ... I'm not shitting you, Spike. I don't want them to have to hurt you either."
"For a couple of days, yeah. Then point me at somethin' big. Or failin' that ... got to be someplace that's infested with my kind. Got to hunt an' kill, every night."
"I thought so." Harris hand came out suddenly, clapping him on the shoulder. It was all Spike could do not to answer the brotherly gesture with a punch, but he held still.
Xander smiled. "You're one for the books, Spike. You really are. Tell Buff I said good morning, and I'll find you guys someplace that's really rife."
When he crawled in under the blankets, Buffy shifted, cooed, reached for him, but didn't really wake. He burrowed into the fevery glow she gave off. Her skin was slick with perspiration; she smelled very intensely of herself, of sex and wine. He tried to shut himself off, to drift. Sleep wasn't always easyhe'd had so often to do without it, in those other places, where losing consciousness of his surroundings would've meant dust. A drink might've helped, but he was leery of giving his demon that opening. Before coming to bed, he'd fed, more slayer bloodthey seemed to want to keep him supplied, and he wondered, even as he gulped it down, if this was a good idea or a bad one. She'd said she wanted him this strong.
He liked being this strong, though it made him wary too.
Who ever wanted to relinquish a power once granted?
His face buried in her hair, he breathed slowly in and out, willing himself to unclench. Hell was gone, and here he was in his heaven, this woman whose spirit and body were all open to him, who wanted to permit him everything.
All around him, the rock walls turned to lava. A red and burning womb, birthing him to his damnation. He knew it, but watching the others crumble and fall, their shrieks filling his burning ears, he laughed.
For a few moments he'd held her hand, but she was gone now.
He laughed and burned and it was good, it was the best thing he'd ever experienced, pain fit for a connoisseur.
Then two golden eyes danced and winked before him. Demon eyes, but not belonging to the demons dying all around himthey were here and not here, unaffected by the inferno. They flirted, winking; when he snatched at them they flickered and reappeared. They seemed to laugh too. They had no voice, but they seemed to whisper a welcome. They beckoned. He thought of Drusilla, but he knew her golden gaze, and these were other. They gave off an ardent fervor she'd never remotely approached. He'd never seen these before. He cried outWho are you? There was no answer, but yet he knew, he'd see them again. He'd see them again. They were coming for him.
Shuddering, he woke. He'd spent in his sleepif it was sleep. Spunk dripped from his thighs, from the small of Buffy's back. She stirred, grunted, then her good hand reached back, feeling around.
"You should've woke me up."
"Was sleepin' myself, or I would've, believe me."
She chuckled. Her fingers dabbled in the drying spunk. Then she rolled over to face him. "I probably smell like some old fermenting vat."
"And good mornin' to you too, pet."
"Who ever thought you having a wet dream on my back would be so romantic?"
"Is it?"
"Y'know, it really is."
He kissed her, to show she didn't smell like a fermenting vat. "How's the wrist?"
"It's probably all better. It doesn't hurt now. It itches."
"That a good sign?"
"Yes. I have to pee. You wait for me?"
"Where'm I gonna go?"
While she was in the bathroom, he tried to parse the dream together. But it was already fading, all except for an impression of those demon eyes, which were somehow girlish, entrancing and full of promises. They'd made him hard, made him come. His cock rose again as he thought about it. He gave himself a slow wank, hearing the taps go off in the bathroom. Buffy emerged, smelling of peppermint, her hair brushed, naked but for the cast. She stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at him spread out in her bed, letting him look at her. Then she snatched up her phone from the nightstand. "Don't move." She snapped off a few pictures. "You have no idea how often I've wished I'd done that before."
"What's the use of havin' Big Bad for your boyfriend if you don't have a piccie of his hard prong in your phone."
"Exactly." She smiled, and then she froze, as tears welled up in her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "God I'm stupid. It just ... you're really ... I haven't fully taken it in. You're here." She shook her head. "It doesn't feel real. Nothing does. Brushing my teeth just nowseemed like this weird ... behavior. Talking to you ...." She sank down on the side of the bed. "Are you all right?"
It was, seemingly, the question du jour.
"For the moment. Need to get out of this place soon though. As I was just tellin' the very concerned an' conscientious Harris. Who's promised to look us out some hell-hole appropriate to our talents."
"Good. I want to get out of here too. I'm really not the type who should lurk in her mountain fastness, y'know?"
He laughed, and she picked herself up and pounced on him.
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