FIC: First Comes Suffering
Title: First Comes Suffering
Summary: Spike remembers that suffering always comes before the reward.
Warning: Adult language and content.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~350
Author's Note: Another installment in penny_lane_42's Three Sentence Ficathon (y'all should go check it out!), this time in response to snickfic's prompt for "Spike" and "mpreg". Also: Long sentences are long.
He'd thought himself well-acquainted with discomfort-hard not to be when the-great-and-smirking Angelus (right bastard) had enlightened Dru to the delights of tying up his dangly bits in silken rope (either to keep him still or because Angelus thought the pink swaddling his balls was a laugh riot, he couldn’t tell which) while she tickled his skin with an ostrich feather, teasing him into a furious, over-sensitized lather before slicing him open (just a tad, mind you) with her sharp nails (claws, more like) and licking him clean (now that’s the good stuff, baby).
She’d shown him the truth of it (as she always did ever more)-with all the pain and torment came the mind-buggering (glorious!) surcease when his dark goddess (lover, salvation, inspiration for his all and everything) sucked on his wounds and squeezed his cock deep inside her (transcendant splendor)-and in the end the pain only heightened his orgasmic pleasure (for to drown in resplendent joy, one must first suffer the bite of rank ecstasy).
So yeah, the bulging of his belly made him look a right sight (ungainly, ungodly, though he was used to the latter more than the former) and his feet ached in a way that should’ve been outlawed for a creature of the night, but that was all just physical rot; what really got his goat was the way strangers’ eyes widened at the sight of him (freak show, not afraid of him at all, were they? A bloody spectacle for their amusement), their looks spilling acid in his gut 'til he flinched and drew his shoulders up, girding himself against their laughter (always laughing, superior pillocks, sneering down at him) until all he could do was remember that suffering always came before the reward and if there was any sense of balance (and decency, though he’d never admit he’d hoped for it) from that fate (cruel bitch) that’d chosen to place life resting underneath his dead heart, then the birth of his baby was gonna be the best damn thing that ever happened to him (in this life and the next).
Summary: Spike remembers that suffering always comes before the reward.
Warning: Adult language and content.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~350
Author's Note: Another installment in penny_lane_42's Three Sentence Ficathon (y'all should go check it out!), this time in response to snickfic's prompt for "Spike" and "mpreg". Also: Long sentences are long.
He'd thought himself well-acquainted with discomfort-hard not to be when the-great-and-smirking Angelus (right bastard) had enlightened Dru to the delights of tying up his dangly bits in silken rope (either to keep him still or because Angelus thought the pink swaddling his balls was a laugh riot, he couldn’t tell which) while she tickled his skin with an ostrich feather, teasing him into a furious, over-sensitized lather before slicing him open (just a tad, mind you) with her sharp nails (claws, more like) and licking him clean (now that’s the good stuff, baby).
She’d shown him the truth of it (as she always did ever more)-with all the pain and torment came the mind-buggering (glorious!) surcease when his dark goddess (lover, salvation, inspiration for his all and everything) sucked on his wounds and squeezed his cock deep inside her (transcendant splendor)-and in the end the pain only heightened his orgasmic pleasure (for to drown in resplendent joy, one must first suffer the bite of rank ecstasy).
So yeah, the bulging of his belly made him look a right sight (ungainly, ungodly, though he was used to the latter more than the former) and his feet ached in a way that should’ve been outlawed for a creature of the night, but that was all just physical rot; what really got his goat was the way strangers’ eyes widened at the sight of him (freak show, not afraid of him at all, were they? A bloody spectacle for their amusement), their looks spilling acid in his gut 'til he flinched and drew his shoulders up, girding himself against their laughter (always laughing, superior pillocks, sneering down at him) until all he could do was remember that suffering always came before the reward and if there was any sense of balance (and decency, though he’d never admit he’d hoped for it) from that fate (cruel bitch) that’d chosen to place life resting underneath his dead heart, then the birth of his baby was gonna be the best damn thing that ever happened to him (in this life and the next).