A Girl Next Door by too_many_spike_posters
Chapter 1: Out of Sight, In Mind by too_many_spike_posters
*Please let me know how it is/if I should continue with the idea! Reviews are always helpful and awesome!! :)
In their six years of marriage, she had never been so sated. They had made love constantly: every night for the past several months. Drusilla did not understand her husband’s sudden increase in sexual appetite, but she did not complain or even mention it for fear it might go away. Spike knew this.
Drusilla, however, did not realize that when they were making love, Spike was far away. Spike was out the window and across the street where a young Buffy Summers lived.
It hadn’t started out as a perversion. More of an accident, really. The Summers family moved in the house next door five months earlier. The usual pleasantries between neighbors occurred well enough. Spike did not concern himself with the youngest of the Summers children at first. She did not seem particularly intriguing or gorgeous at the time; she was just another kid on the block.
Oh, how things had changed.
3 Months Earlier:
“Spike, would you shut the window? I’m cold.” Drusilla whined from the bed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Spike sat up begrudgingly and walked the five feet to the window. He wasn’t expecting to see anything particularly of interest beyond the window. In fact, at first he didn't even look up as he attempted to close the godforsaken window. But the light across the street caught his attention.
What is it, 3am? What is she doing up this late? he mused as he tried to look closer. Just about when his face hit the glass, he saw the most erotic sight of his 27 years: Buffy Summers naked, head lolled back in ecstasy as she rode that boy into oblivion.
Spike couldn’t blink or even move. He just stood there and fogged up the glass with his breath, transfixed on her. He imagined the sound of her moaning and the creak of the bed. He imagined the sweet smell of her hair as it swung back and forth across her back. His sweatpants tightened as a small breeze wafted in the room. Spike remembered for a moment why he was there and once again tried to close the pane.
But Buffy was close; he could feel it.
Spike saw her convulse as she reached her climax. Without thinking, he reached down to ease the pain of his rigid member. He stroked himself as she rocked through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Spike was close himself until the jerk in the bed flipped them over and pounded into her. Although she seemed to be enjoying herself, Spike was overcome by a sudden burst of rage. How dare he block his view?! Again without thinking, Spike smacked his hands against the window, causing it to slide down to a close.
“Are you coming back to bed?” Drusilla asked, most likely on the verge of sleep.
Spike glanced at his wife and then back at the couple, uncertain of how to proceed. He felt so completely drawn to the girl that he had recently dismissed as just another kid. And also, a KID as in a child, you sick pervert.
Realizing they were throwing their clothes back on, Spike took a deep breath and let it go. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more. He left the sight and closed the blinds behind him. He thought that was it: that it was the end.
Two nights later, Spike noticed the light on across the street. Against his better judgment, he peered out the window from the edge of his bed. He saw the sordid affair, but this time, it was a different boy. He was surprised by the small strike of anguish that struck him as he watched Buffy throw herself around.
But for some reason, he could not stop himself from reaching down. It was like a compulsion. And it continued to haunt him for two weeks after.
Spike simply could not take it anymore. Every night a new boy graced her bed. Every night she moaned his name in his mind. Every fiber of his being wanted Buffy, wanted to taste her, wanted to take her, be inside her, and every fiber in him knew it was wrong. And that feeling only fueled the fire for her more.
How could those boys possibly know what they were doing? They varied in age, but none could have been more than 22 years old. Although the thought discouraged him slightly, nothing could deter him from the thought of Buffy being his. He knew it could never happen, but every night he wanted her more. Sitting in his office over those two weeks, he seriously considered moving houses just to lose sight of her, but part of him believed he would leave his home nightly to watch her from the street. That prospect seemed even worse.
So, in a moment of desperation, Spike decided to take what was actually his. He made love to his wife for the first time in months. Although it was nothing close to what he imagined it would be like with Buffy, it sated him through the next day. But that night, he could see Buffy clearly through the window as he pounded into Drusilla. He watched Buffy and imagined he was inside her, making her come undone, feeling her slick body against his own.
He felt like a sick pervert, but his wife made a warm body better than his imagination ever could. Spike knew that if he could just possess her once, all of his problems would cease. He just knew it.
But for the next few months, he ignored her call. He bedded his wife over and over again, praying that it would get him through this. But it only helped for a short time. Then he was back to drooling over the girl next door and her newest boy toy.
Spike decided he had had enough. He was going to talk to Buffy. Tomorrow. The only problem was getting up the courage (and getting through how unbelievably wrong it was to even consider her).
The next day he ate his breakfast, kissed his wife goodbye, and headed off to work. The first bell rang and he ran to get to his class on time. Fortunately for him, Room 103 was located near the front entrance of the school. He made his way to his desk and perused the class. Just as the second bell rang, his eyes met Buffy’s. She smirked at him slightly and he put down the attendance chart.
“Miss Summers, why don’t you read first?”
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