William Spikecock's 'Psycho'



Written by: Saber ShadowKitten


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Summary: A naughty re-enactiment of Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho" (and if you couldn't guess that from the title, you've been living in a box too long)
Disclaimers: Joss, not I.
Dedication: To VicNoir for her titleless Halloween story, and the OGD-list for the discussion on what PWP means.
Feedback: daschus@home.com

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The shower was hot, blessedly hot. Refreshing water cascaded down over her,
rinsing away the sweet smelling shampoo and frothy soap bubbles that covered
her tan, nubile body. Under her breath, she hummed a sappy song about love
and romance, snippets of lyrics tumbling from her pouty pink lips at various
intervals.

The flowery shower curtain was suddenly shoved open, the shink of metal
curtain hooks loud as they scraped along the shower rod. The cold gust of
air assaulted her delicate form, instantly puckering her rose-colored
nipples and sending shivers down her spine. She spun in surprise in the
coral tub, water droplets flinging from her long, honey-blond wet hair. She
screamed, pressing her hand between her small-but-perky breasts over her
pounding heart.

He stood there with a gleam in his eyes, a shaft of steel in his hand. His
tongue flicked over his lips as he dragged his gaze over her slick, nude
form. He smiled wickedly and stepped into the tub.

She managed a ragged, "No...," but he didn't listen. He advanced on her
swiftly, slamming her up against the tiled wall of the shower. He impaled
her with a sharp thrust, stabbing deep and sure. She screamed again as he
plunged continuously into her soft, female flesh with his hard length. She
felt her blood rushing, and she jerked in his arms once... twice...

Her blond head fell to his shoulder, her body going limp. He speared her
several more times before he shuddered and went still. Satisfied, he
released her completely, and she sank lifelessly to the tub floor. The hot
water poured down upon her... until it suddenly got very cold.

"Aah!" Buffy screeched, reaching out to hit the water faucet. The ice cold
spray shut off immediately. She heard a chuckle, brushed her hair out of
her eyes, and glared up at him. "Not funny."

"Tell me that again when you don't look like a drowned kitten, kitten,"
Spike said, snagging a towel as he stepped out of the tub. He wrapped the
fuzzy blue linen around his waist, gave her a wink and a smirk, and left the
steamy bathroom.

"Damn vampire," Buffy muttered. Then, she smiled.



The End


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