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This is my first story. I would enjoy any feedback you have to offer. :) Thank you for the awesome beta job Puddinhead!
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The wheels of her shiny, red convertible made loud crunching sounds as she veered right into the old run-down trailer park that bordered the outskirts of Sunnydale, much to the chagrin of many. Buffy sped through the gravel lot, unconcerned about the way the rocks were clanging in her wheel wells and ruining her custom paint job. Not being seen by prying eyes was of more concern than her father’s wrath after he surveyed the damage, if he even noticed at all. There weren’t many things that caught his attention and even fewer that held it.
She pulled into the gravel drive of an old, decaying trailer at the back of the lot and followed the drive around back. The yellowed vinyl was peeling off the sides and the smell of rotting food permeated from a nearby dumpster. She didn’t care. She wasn’t here for the accommodations.
As Buffy quickly made her way up to the front door, Anne Pratt exited-- the screen doors unholy screeching only stopped as it slammed and settled against the frame. Anne couldn’t have been more than thirty-three, but she had the body of a twenty-two year old all soft curves and sex. Her face was heavily made up. Her eyes grew cold as she looked Buffy over and, taking the cigarette from her lips, she exhaled smoke and tossed her head toward the trailer, “He’s inside. I’m going to the store. Be gone by the time I get back.”
Buffy knew Spike’s mother didn’t like her. Their runs ins were few and ranged from volatile to almost pleasant. Sometimes insults were hurled, sometimes things were thrown and then there were the times when Annes behavior was almost amiable.
Anne Pratt was unpredictable. Buffy guessed most drug addicts were.
Not bothering to knock, Buffy let herself in and dropped her keys on the counter before making her way back to Spike’s bedroom. He was sitting on his twin size bed, back against the wall, unnaturally bleached blonde hair an unruly mess of tangled curls indicating that he hadn’t showered yet. She didn’t care. She unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. He didn’t look up from the book he had perched in his lap, glasses hanging precariously low off the bridge of his perfect nose.
She swept her hair onto her shoulder before she reached around and unhooked the clasp of her bra, letting it fall off her arms, down beside her dress. He still hadn’t looked at her so she crossed the small room, not a feat-- it only took a step or two, and gently pulled the book out of his hands, marking his place with the bookmark on his nightstand before setting it down.
He glanced at her face briefly before he allowed his eyes to travel her body and she didn’t waste any time. She tugged him down flat along the length of the bed and was satisfied to notice his black plaid pajama pants were already tenting. She made quick work of those, not bothering with formalities or foreplay. This had been going on for long enough he didn’t even try to discuss trivial things with her. He never asked for more and she never offered it. It was just a bit of cold comfort in a harsh, unforgiving world. An escape from the status quo, the invisible restraints society had placed on them both since birth. His bonds were different than hers, but both sets of shackles were alike, neither set had any give.
She climbed up onto the bed and placed her knees on either side of his hips. He palmed her breasts and began murmuring silly, dirty things about her tits. She wished he wouldn’t, when he was quite it made things so much easier. She didn’t want to hear his stupid husky voice or the way he murmured her silly name and made it sound like something exotic and beautiful in that stupid British accent. This thing between them was supposed to be about acting out, breaking the rules. She cursed her traitorous heart as its beats quickened with his praise. No one had ever been so eager to praise her.
In a hurry to get him inside of her and make a quick getaway, she scooted her damp panties aside and gripped him in her hand. She lowered herself in one swift motion and they were off to the races, grappling for control, each of them eager to please the other just for the smug satisfaction of knowing that they could crack the frosty exterior of their exchanges if just for a moment. The exhilaration that came with knowing that there was something dangerous and formidable about the two of them together in these stolen moments outside the realm of normal and the stigma society placed on them.
He’d pushed her onto her back and was making her mumble sweet incoherent sentence fragments as he drove himself into her over and over. He was careful to keep his sweet nothings superficial,
‘So bloody gorgeous.’
‘Fuck baby, you feel so good.’
‘Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!”
There had been one awkward moment, the first time they had sex. He got drunk on the moment and before he knew what he was doing he’d given his hand away. Whispering reverently about how much he’d always wanted her and how much it meant that she was with him then. He thought he wouldn’t see her again after that. He thought that surely he’d ruined it, but she came back, guarded, but back. He made certain to keep his gob shut from the on. He knew better. Knew the rules and how the game was played. Knew his place was beneath her, not beside her. Knew that he was lucky to get even this tiny part of her, but he also knew that this small piece of her wouldn’t be enough for him forever.
She and him - they broke the rules. That’s what their entire relationship was: one big broken rule. And if she seriously believed that they could go on this way forever, that he could live off the crumbs she shoved his way and that they would satisfy him forever, she was even more delusional than he figured.
The morsels she’d been spoon-feeding him for years were enough to keep hunger at bay for a time but as their relationship dragged on, his appetite for her expanded to monstrous proportions. The time was coming nigh when their entire way of being would break down and crumble into dust because the same old crumbs weren’t going to be able to stave off his hunger for much longer.
He could feel his need to posses her heart and soul grow and pulse beneath his skin like a living, breathing thing. He delighted in her incredible body and romance be damned—scientifically they fit each other like two halves of the same whole. But physicality alone would only pacify him for a time.
“Spike I’m-- it’s—oh, I’m gonna!”
“Cumcumcum,” he chanted. And she obeyed and fell apart in his arms. He was quick to follow her, pulling out and spending himself on her belly-- even though she had assured him several times that she was taking the pill. There was no need to take unnecessary chances. No need to take such a risk over a few mere seconds of prolonged pleasure. He knew first-hand what being brought into the world by accident was like and he’d do his damndest to avoid putting anyone else in that situation. Well, his damndest as long as it didn’t require him wearing a condom. He couldn’t feel a damn thing through those things.
He sighed and flopped onto his back. Buffy quickly got up and made her way into the bathroom in the hall, unashamed of her nudity. It took a couple months before she warmed up enough to let him see her this fearless way. It would have taken longer but his unabashed worship at the alter of body put her fears and doubts to rest. He loved knowing that she was comfortable around him. It gave him something akin to hope, as dangerous as that was.
She walked back into the room and dressed, then leaned against his dresser. She smirked as she looked him over, eyes stopping to admire certain aspects longer than others. He flexed the muscle of his dwindling erection making it wave at her.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a pig Spike.”
“It’s Sunday,” he said.
She folded her arms over her chest and tossed her hair nonchalantly. “Yeah, so?”
“You never come on Sundays, not that I’m complaining.” He smirked. “I love every time you cum.” Dragging the last word out so there was no mistaking his double meaning. “Don’t you have Sunday School or something? What would Mummy say if she knew you were procreating on the Lord’s day?”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Remind me again why I put up with you?”
“You love it. Not knowing what’s going to come out of my mouth next. I excite you.” He leaned off the edge of the bed and grabbed his pants shoving one leg in after the other before approaching her all cock and swagger, pajama pants riding low on his dangerously sharp hipbones.
He didn’t look like a teenager. There was nothing awkward or childish about him. He was all long lean muscles and sharp hard angles and she wondered briefly just how many other women had known the pleasure of his company. And she did mean women. Spike wasn’t one to bother himself with little girls.
He continued. “And you love putting your hands all over my hot, tight, little body. Say, ‘Yes Spike.’”
Buffy let out a short bark of a laugh. “I should go. It’s Sunday as you were so quick to remind me and I’ll be missed soon. We’ve got some dinner thing to attend tonight.” She added dryly, “I’m literally shaking with excitement.”
He smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that was uncharacteristically intimate for them. “Go decorate your Daddy’s arm and charm the masses with your cool whit and admirable sense of decorum.”
She pushed away from him quickly and he followed her to the front door. She grabbed her keys off the counter. “Thanks for… well. Um, thanks.” They still struggled with the goodbye part. Most often she came over at night while his mom worked graveyard and she’d stay ‘till he fell asleep, which was never long after sex. These awkward daytime goodbyes made him feel dirty in a way her sneaking off in the middle of the night goodbyes never did.
At least he didn’t have to watch her leave without so much as a fond word then. There were no goodbye kisses or hugs. They hardly ever kissed and when he’d tried she was always quick to direct him somewhere—anywhere— else. He guessed that kissing was to close to liking him. Too personal, too revealing. Or maybe she just didn’t like the way he kissed.
He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well you too. Guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
There was an awkward pause before she piped up, “Welp! Guess I’ll see you then.” And then she was gone with the banging of the screen door as it slammed shut behind her. He watched as she jogged around back to her red convertible Mustang and slid into the driver’s seat like butter. He kept watching as she tore down the gravel drive, past the other trailers, taillights blinking as she stopped at the sign and turned left out of the park.
He bummed one of his mother’s cigarettes and took himself outside to sit on one of their patio chairs, which was precisely where he was when his mother returned. Her trip to the “store” had really meant “dealer” as in, “I’m going to go to my dealer spend our grocery money on something I can get high with.” His mom hadn’t bought groceries in years.
“She gone?” Mom asked, cigarette dangling from her lips as she slammed the door to their old pickup. Her eyes were shinning bright and she looked good, happy-- high.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“At least I’m a paid whore.” She sucker-punched.
He stood up quickly and turned to go back inside. “Fuck you.”
She laughed and hurried after him. “Don’t be such a punk kid.” She nudged his hip with hers. “You know that you’re nothing but a flesh and blood dildo for that rich little bitch.” She said it with a smile, her voice laced with humor and not a trace of menace.
He shook his head. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Oh kiss my ass, prick,” she said as she slapped her jean-clad rear-end. “I keep telling you to drop that girl.” She grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with tap water from the sink. “She’s not good for you. You can do better.”
He barked out a short humorless laugh. “My God, the drugs have fried your brain. You remember who you’re talking about? Name one fucking person you can think of that’s better than Buffy Summers!”
She smiled slowly. “William Pratt.”
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AN: My Anne Pratt is NOT like the Anne Pratt in the series. Think girls gone wild, smoking body, hottest chick you've ever seen, girl version of Spike mixed with a little Faith.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!