Something I Can Never Have

 


Written by: June


 



Summary: very short fic set in season 6. Spike ponders what he wants to do with Buffy.
Distribution: Life’s Not A Song, fanfiction.net. Anyone who already has some of my stuff archived, please go ahead and take it :) Anyone else, if you would like to archive this fic, please email me to let me know!
Disclaimer: all’s the genius that is Joss and Mutant Enemy!!
Feedback: yes, please!!! :) tiny_eternity@yahoo.com





I already got more than I ever hoped for. I got to kiss her, taste her, fuck her, hold her, love her. Even got to play some of the kinks. I knew she’d like those. She kept it up for quite a while y’know, the prim and proper act. But that’s all it was really, an act. Bloody stupid act of denial. Denial of what she is, what she feels. I knew that all along. Just wasn’t sure how to bring it out in her. Turns out I didn’t have to.

She gives me a run for my money half the time, too. And God, she’s good. Makes me beg as much as I make her scream. And vice versa and in any and every position two supple people can work out. And she enjoys it, hell, that’s obvious. What’s more, I think, she’s slowly beginning to accept it. To accept that she enjoys what I do to her, what we do to each other. To accept her screams that echo in my crypt when I make her come, and the silent stolen kisses when her friends aren’t looking. I already got so much more than I ever dared to hope for, but it’s not enough. I want more, need more. The stuff we’ve done, the little kinky bits, it’s all been incredible. A bloody revelation, I told her after that first night, and it still is.

But this, what I’m going to do now, I know she isn’t ready for. It’ll be too much for her and she’ll freak. Probably gonna yell at me again, she is. How I have the nerve, how I don’t understand, how she doesn’t want to touch me or see me ever again. But despite all that, I have to try. Have to see if I can convince her, seduce her, into doing this, with me. Because if she would, it could be even better than all the stuff we’ve done before. Could be.

Around the corner, into her street now. Her house smells funny, kinda like garlic. Makes my nose wrinkle. When the door opens the smell grows stronger. Maybe she’s cooking something. Her eyes say she didn’t expect me. She sucks at hiding her smile. I greet her and fumble in my pocket, pulling out the tickets. Thrust them into her hand, and wait for her rejection. Insults, sarcasm, panic, whichever form it’ll take, it’s all worth the try.

“Nine Inch Nails?” Wonder in her voice.

“It’s good music.” I shrug. “Thought you could use a little distraction.”

“And you want to take me? Like, on date?” Bloody disbelief. Not a good thing.

“Look, if you don’t want to—“

Her face lights up. “No, no, I do!” Hesitation for a moment, then, softer, earnestly: “I’d love to.”

I stare at her. Eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed and a smile, a fucking happy smile on her face. That I put there. By asking her out.

I want to kiss her now, but I don’t. There will be plenty of time for that later. “Pick you up at seven?”

She nods and I leave. When I return, the garlic smell’s gone.
 



The End


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