Truth or Dare--Chapter 3
Title: Truth or Dare
Author: BuffySunnydale/Dangergirl78
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: MATURE/ NC-17 Joss Whedon owes everything. Including my soul.
Summary: Spike and Buffy meet for the first time, and Spike makes her an offer she can't refuse. Set in an AU where smoking cigarettes is still allowed in public.
The sound of my stomach growling wakes me. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. I wonder how long I've been sleeping. There aren't any windows in this crypt, so I have no clue whether it's morning or night. I briefly wonder if there's a shower I can use.
I look around for Spike and see him sitting at a small desk. "Spike?" I call, and pad over to where he is writing feverishly. He looks up, startled.
"Sorry, Poppet. Deep in thought I was." His eyes focus on me and after a moment I see them sparkle again.
"Whatcha writing?" I smile and playfully reach for his paper, but he quickly swipes it away.
"Oh, no you don't! For Spike's eyes only."
He stuffs the paper in a leather bound notebook, placing it in the desk drawer. I decide to change the subject.
"Does this place have a shower?" I ask, glancing around. "I stink. Or any food? I'm starving."
"I like the way you stink, Pet. You know that. But yeah, there's a shower right through that door." He says, pointing to a door around a corner I didn't notice before.
This isn't a crypt, it's a penthouse!
"As for food, fresh out of that. But I could take you somewhere to eat."
"OK, that sounds good. But first I have to have a shower. I don't know how much longer I can stand my own funk."
"No problem. Let me get you a towel."
It's always a little awkward using someone else's shower. It's just so...personal. And apparently using a man's shower is even more awkward. I turn on the shower and wait for it to become scalding hot and steamy. There is no mirror in this bathroom, which I find a little strange. I pull the shower curtain aside and step into the stream of water. I pick up a bottle of shampoo and take a sniff. Mmmm...I take my time washing off all of the funk, and try not to think about sex...sex with Spike...Not an easy task when just the smell of his shampoo reminds me of him. I make a mental note to invite him to join me for my next shower.
I finish up my shower and turn off the water. I have to put on the same black dress I've been wearing since I met Spike, but maybe I'll just call it my lucky dress. Unfortunately, I have to go commando, since Spike ripped my panties to shreds. The memory comes rushing back and gets me worked up all over again. I briefly try thinking about baseball, but the thought of men in tight pants does no good. I spread some toothpaste on my finger and brush my teeth the best I can. Pulling my hair up into a wet bun, I seriously hope I don't look like a complete freak.
I step out of the bathroom in a haze of steam. Spike is listening to his iPod and smoking a cigarette in his armchair. He looks up at me and sucks in a breath, taking the ear buds out of his ears.
"I know...I know...I'm a mess." I look down and adjust my skirt.
"I was just thinking how you look better and better every time I see you."
I cross the room to where he is sitting and Spike reaches up to touch my face. "Your cheeks are all pink, Petal." I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool while the butterflies in my stomach are throwing a party. "It suits you. Are you sure you don't want to get back in the shower? I could help you wash your back..."
"Spike!" I playfully slap him on the arm. "I can't even think about that right now! I have stuff to do, and I still have to go home eventually today!" Spike grabs the backs of my legs and pulls me closer.
"But I don't want you to go home," he frowns. "I want you to stay here and be my little love slave."
This is moving way too fast, Buffy! Don't forget, he's only interested in your blood! Go home. See your sister. Check your voicemails.
I roll my eyes again. "Come ON! Let's go eat. I'm starving!"
"Alright, alright. No need to get snippy. Let me just gather up my things." Spike stands up and stubbs out his cigarette. He grabs his chain wallet, shoving it in his back pocket. His outfit is still basically the same as yesterday; with the exception of his black band t-shirt. This one has the sleeves cut off and is stitched on the sides to make it even tighter. It is advertising some band called "The Damned".
Note to self: study up on my British punk bands.
Spike offers me his motorcycle jacket, but I shake my head so he shrugs it on before we walk out the door.
I don't know why I am so surprised to see that it's night time. Of course Spike can't go out during the day! Well, at least that makes one stereotype that fits him.
"Would you like to walk, or should I drive?" He asks.
"It's such a nice night. Let's walk."
"Good idea," he agrees, and holds out the crook of his elbow for me to put my arm through. I grin, grabbing his bicep and snuggling close, where I can smell the leather of his jacket.
Ahhhh! You're not seriously falling for his chivalrous act, are you, Buffy?
We walk for a few miles until we reach a 24 hour diner. My stomach growls audibly and I see Spike's one-sided smile out of the corner of my eye.
Excuse me for having this weak human need called "hunger", Spike.
He holds the door open for me and we walk in to the diner which is flooded with fluorescent lights. The place is completely void of customers, but still we choose the booth furthest from the door and slide in next to each other. I pick up a menu and although I'm famished, I'm finding it very hard to focus on the words.
"What's it like to never have to worry about eating? Must be wonderful," I muse.
"I actually quite miss it." Spike lights a cigarette and blows a puff of smoke across the table. "Would you like me to order for you? I can live vicariously through you."
I laugh. "Seriously? OK, sure. I'm not picky."
He calls the waitress over, and an overweight woman takes her time walking over to us. Giving us a bored look, she asks, "What can I get ya?"
"The little lady would like a cheeseburger with fries, a short stack of pancakes, and a slice of apple pie. Oh, and one of them milkshakes. Chocolate." I feel my cheeks get hot as the waitress walks away. Spike blows another puff of smoke and looks over at me. "What?"
"She's gonna think I want to eat all of that!"
"Listen, Pet. If you really want more excitement in your life, the first thing you need to learn is not to give a flying fuck what people think of you." Spike puts his arm around my neck and pulls me closer to whisper in my ear. "Speaking of, the thought of you without any knickers on under that dress is driving me completely mad."
Gulp.
Spike looks over at my red face. "What? Did you think I could forget? I'm pretty sure I'm the one who ripped them to shreds. You can't possibly be wearing them now." He puts his cigarette in the aluminum ashtray while the waitress walks over with my gigantic tray of food and places the plates on the table.
"Can I get you anything else, hon?" I give the waitress a blank stare, still reeling (and completely turned on) from Spike's admission.
"Um...no...I'm good," I mumble and take a sip of my milkshake.
"Weren't you just saying you've always wanted to try grits, Petal?" Spike is really getting a kick out of this.
"Uh...sure. I'll have the grits," I tell the waitress hazily.
I look at my food, realizing I'm not as hungry as I thought I was, and attempt to nibble at a fry.
"Eat up, Love. You'll need your strength for later," Spike kisses my ear and pats me on the knee.
As I drizzle hot syrup on the pancakes and take a bite, my appetite starts to return. Spike's arm is around my waist now, and from the corner of my eye I vaguely notice him staring at me and rubbing the top of my right leg.
He wasn't kidding about living vicariously, was he?
I polish off the short stack of pancakes and I'm completely stuffed. Suddenly I become more aware of Spike's hand traveling even further up my thigh, his fingers slowly lifting my skirt. My first instinct is to swipe his hand away, but then I remember he's supposed to be helping me loosen up.
I chew on the straw from my milkshake to hide my smile and pretend not to notice.
Spike obviously can't stand to be ignored. His left hand moves in and brushes against my breast, making me gasp. I look around and whisper loudly, "Spike! Not here!"
"Come on, Love. Live a little! I dare you."
My mind goes into a tailspin as he pulls up my knee and lifts my leg over his. His fingers move underneath my skirt to get in between my legs, while the other hand pushes through the top of my dress to feel my breast.
I can't believe I'm letting him do this! This is insane!
In an act of sheer defiance to my former self, I reach over and rub the bulge under his jeans.
"There you go... Good girl...You're getting the hang of it now," he growls into my ear.
I see the waitress heading over towards us and all I want to do is make her go away. I adjust myself so that I am straddling Spike's lap, and cover his mouth with my own, kissing him like a madwoman. Spike puts his hands on to the back of my legs and moves them upwards, practically exposing my entire ass. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I see the waitress' jaw drop and hear my plate of grits fall with a crash to the ground. The waitress shuffles away towards the kitchen mumbling something about kids these days.
"I don't think she'll be back," Spike remarks.
"Good," I say decisively, and bend down to kiss his lips again, tasting them with my tongue. Reaching down, I feel him getting harder and I know it's time for me to show that I can take action. Pulling the zipper down on a man's jeans in public is about the wildest thing I've ever done in my life, but at this point there is no going back. I give my former self the middle finger.
Spike moans when he realizes what I am trying to do, and sees my hands start to fumble. He has to reach down to assist me in unzipping his own pants. How embarrassing.
The sense of urgency between us is thrilling. Someone could break up our little party at any moment, and neither of us are willing to let that happen until we get our fill. Spike unzips his jeans and releases his shaft, placing me on top of it, and kissing me all the while. My ass is completely exposed now, and I feel Spike give it a rough spank and a squeeze before pulling my skirt back down to give me the tiniest shred of decency. I try to make the most miniscule movements possible, so that to the untrained eye it might look like I am just sitting on his lap. The last thing I want is to lose control and call more attention to us, but the pleasure is overwhelming. "Oh God," I whisper in his ear.
"That's it, Pet. I want to feel you... I want to feel you come." He whispers back.
I move up down, back and forth, once or twice more and angels are singing. I am no longer in a crappy diner, I am in heaven.
As soon as I can breathe again, I slide off of Spike and onto the booth next to him, straightening my skirt. The diner is still completely empty. Lucky us. Spike wipes himself off with a cloth napkin, tosses it onto the booth, lifts his hips to zip his jeans, and retrieves a hundred dollar bill from his wallet to leave on the table. We both stand and slide out of the booth, and Spike grabs my hand, pulling me out of the diner at a run.
After all of the excitement I've already had, I am completely out of breath by the time we turn the corner. Looking down at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, Spike asks "Did you enjoy your meal, Poppet?"
I can't even speak. Instead, I grin and give him a breathless, emphatic nod.
Spike looks at me seriously and tilts his head. "So when do I get to eat?"
Author: BuffySunnydale/Dangergirl78
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: MATURE/ NC-17 Joss Whedon owes everything. Including my soul.
Summary: Spike and Buffy meet for the first time, and Spike makes her an offer she can't refuse. Set in an AU where smoking cigarettes is still allowed in public.
The sound of my stomach growling wakes me. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. I wonder how long I've been sleeping. There aren't any windows in this crypt, so I have no clue whether it's morning or night. I briefly wonder if there's a shower I can use.
I look around for Spike and see him sitting at a small desk. "Spike?" I call, and pad over to where he is writing feverishly. He looks up, startled.
"Sorry, Poppet. Deep in thought I was." His eyes focus on me and after a moment I see them sparkle again.
"Whatcha writing?" I smile and playfully reach for his paper, but he quickly swipes it away.
"Oh, no you don't! For Spike's eyes only."
He stuffs the paper in a leather bound notebook, placing it in the desk drawer. I decide to change the subject.
"Does this place have a shower?" I ask, glancing around. "I stink. Or any food? I'm starving."
"I like the way you stink, Pet. You know that. But yeah, there's a shower right through that door." He says, pointing to a door around a corner I didn't notice before.
This isn't a crypt, it's a penthouse!
"As for food, fresh out of that. But I could take you somewhere to eat."
"OK, that sounds good. But first I have to have a shower. I don't know how much longer I can stand my own funk."
"No problem. Let me get you a towel."
It's always a little awkward using someone else's shower. It's just so...personal. And apparently using a man's shower is even more awkward. I turn on the shower and wait for it to become scalding hot and steamy. There is no mirror in this bathroom, which I find a little strange. I pull the shower curtain aside and step into the stream of water. I pick up a bottle of shampoo and take a sniff. Mmmm...I take my time washing off all of the funk, and try not to think about sex...sex with Spike...Not an easy task when just the smell of his shampoo reminds me of him. I make a mental note to invite him to join me for my next shower.
I finish up my shower and turn off the water. I have to put on the same black dress I've been wearing since I met Spike, but maybe I'll just call it my lucky dress. Unfortunately, I have to go commando, since Spike ripped my panties to shreds. The memory comes rushing back and gets me worked up all over again. I briefly try thinking about baseball, but the thought of men in tight pants does no good. I spread some toothpaste on my finger and brush my teeth the best I can. Pulling my hair up into a wet bun, I seriously hope I don't look like a complete freak.
I step out of the bathroom in a haze of steam. Spike is listening to his iPod and smoking a cigarette in his armchair. He looks up at me and sucks in a breath, taking the ear buds out of his ears.
"I know...I know...I'm a mess." I look down and adjust my skirt.
"I was just thinking how you look better and better every time I see you."
I cross the room to where he is sitting and Spike reaches up to touch my face. "Your cheeks are all pink, Petal." I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool while the butterflies in my stomach are throwing a party. "It suits you. Are you sure you don't want to get back in the shower? I could help you wash your back..."
"Spike!" I playfully slap him on the arm. "I can't even think about that right now! I have stuff to do, and I still have to go home eventually today!" Spike grabs the backs of my legs and pulls me closer.
"But I don't want you to go home," he frowns. "I want you to stay here and be my little love slave."
This is moving way too fast, Buffy! Don't forget, he's only interested in your blood! Go home. See your sister. Check your voicemails.
I roll my eyes again. "Come ON! Let's go eat. I'm starving!"
"Alright, alright. No need to get snippy. Let me just gather up my things." Spike stands up and stubbs out his cigarette. He grabs his chain wallet, shoving it in his back pocket. His outfit is still basically the same as yesterday; with the exception of his black band t-shirt. This one has the sleeves cut off and is stitched on the sides to make it even tighter. It is advertising some band called "The Damned".
Note to self: study up on my British punk bands.
Spike offers me his motorcycle jacket, but I shake my head so he shrugs it on before we walk out the door.
I don't know why I am so surprised to see that it's night time. Of course Spike can't go out during the day! Well, at least that makes one stereotype that fits him.
"Would you like to walk, or should I drive?" He asks.
"It's such a nice night. Let's walk."
"Good idea," he agrees, and holds out the crook of his elbow for me to put my arm through. I grin, grabbing his bicep and snuggling close, where I can smell the leather of his jacket.
Ahhhh! You're not seriously falling for his chivalrous act, are you, Buffy?
We walk for a few miles until we reach a 24 hour diner. My stomach growls audibly and I see Spike's one-sided smile out of the corner of my eye.
Excuse me for having this weak human need called "hunger", Spike.
He holds the door open for me and we walk in to the diner which is flooded with fluorescent lights. The place is completely void of customers, but still we choose the booth furthest from the door and slide in next to each other. I pick up a menu and although I'm famished, I'm finding it very hard to focus on the words.
"What's it like to never have to worry about eating? Must be wonderful," I muse.
"I actually quite miss it." Spike lights a cigarette and blows a puff of smoke across the table. "Would you like me to order for you? I can live vicariously through you."
I laugh. "Seriously? OK, sure. I'm not picky."
He calls the waitress over, and an overweight woman takes her time walking over to us. Giving us a bored look, she asks, "What can I get ya?"
"The little lady would like a cheeseburger with fries, a short stack of pancakes, and a slice of apple pie. Oh, and one of them milkshakes. Chocolate." I feel my cheeks get hot as the waitress walks away. Spike blows another puff of smoke and looks over at me. "What?"
"She's gonna think I want to eat all of that!"
"Listen, Pet. If you really want more excitement in your life, the first thing you need to learn is not to give a flying fuck what people think of you." Spike puts his arm around my neck and pulls me closer to whisper in my ear. "Speaking of, the thought of you without any knickers on under that dress is driving me completely mad."
Gulp.
Spike looks over at my red face. "What? Did you think I could forget? I'm pretty sure I'm the one who ripped them to shreds. You can't possibly be wearing them now." He puts his cigarette in the aluminum ashtray while the waitress walks over with my gigantic tray of food and places the plates on the table.
"Can I get you anything else, hon?" I give the waitress a blank stare, still reeling (and completely turned on) from Spike's admission.
"Um...no...I'm good," I mumble and take a sip of my milkshake.
"Weren't you just saying you've always wanted to try grits, Petal?" Spike is really getting a kick out of this.
"Uh...sure. I'll have the grits," I tell the waitress hazily.
I look at my food, realizing I'm not as hungry as I thought I was, and attempt to nibble at a fry.
"Eat up, Love. You'll need your strength for later," Spike kisses my ear and pats me on the knee.
As I drizzle hot syrup on the pancakes and take a bite, my appetite starts to return. Spike's arm is around my waist now, and from the corner of my eye I vaguely notice him staring at me and rubbing the top of my right leg.
He wasn't kidding about living vicariously, was he?
I polish off the short stack of pancakes and I'm completely stuffed. Suddenly I become more aware of Spike's hand traveling even further up my thigh, his fingers slowly lifting my skirt. My first instinct is to swipe his hand away, but then I remember he's supposed to be helping me loosen up.
I chew on the straw from my milkshake to hide my smile and pretend not to notice.
Spike obviously can't stand to be ignored. His left hand moves in and brushes against my breast, making me gasp. I look around and whisper loudly, "Spike! Not here!"
"Come on, Love. Live a little! I dare you."
My mind goes into a tailspin as he pulls up my knee and lifts my leg over his. His fingers move underneath my skirt to get in between my legs, while the other hand pushes through the top of my dress to feel my breast.
I can't believe I'm letting him do this! This is insane!
In an act of sheer defiance to my former self, I reach over and rub the bulge under his jeans.
"There you go... Good girl...You're getting the hang of it now," he growls into my ear.
I see the waitress heading over towards us and all I want to do is make her go away. I adjust myself so that I am straddling Spike's lap, and cover his mouth with my own, kissing him like a madwoman. Spike puts his hands on to the back of my legs and moves them upwards, practically exposing my entire ass. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I see the waitress' jaw drop and hear my plate of grits fall with a crash to the ground. The waitress shuffles away towards the kitchen mumbling something about kids these days.
"I don't think she'll be back," Spike remarks.
"Good," I say decisively, and bend down to kiss his lips again, tasting them with my tongue. Reaching down, I feel him getting harder and I know it's time for me to show that I can take action. Pulling the zipper down on a man's jeans in public is about the wildest thing I've ever done in my life, but at this point there is no going back. I give my former self the middle finger.
Spike moans when he realizes what I am trying to do, and sees my hands start to fumble. He has to reach down to assist me in unzipping his own pants. How embarrassing.
The sense of urgency between us is thrilling. Someone could break up our little party at any moment, and neither of us are willing to let that happen until we get our fill. Spike unzips his jeans and releases his shaft, placing me on top of it, and kissing me all the while. My ass is completely exposed now, and I feel Spike give it a rough spank and a squeeze before pulling my skirt back down to give me the tiniest shred of decency. I try to make the most miniscule movements possible, so that to the untrained eye it might look like I am just sitting on his lap. The last thing I want is to lose control and call more attention to us, but the pleasure is overwhelming. "Oh God," I whisper in his ear.
"That's it, Pet. I want to feel you... I want to feel you come." He whispers back.
I move up down, back and forth, once or twice more and angels are singing. I am no longer in a crappy diner, I am in heaven.
As soon as I can breathe again, I slide off of Spike and onto the booth next to him, straightening my skirt. The diner is still completely empty. Lucky us. Spike wipes himself off with a cloth napkin, tosses it onto the booth, lifts his hips to zip his jeans, and retrieves a hundred dollar bill from his wallet to leave on the table. We both stand and slide out of the booth, and Spike grabs my hand, pulling me out of the diner at a run.
After all of the excitement I've already had, I am completely out of breath by the time we turn the corner. Looking down at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, Spike asks "Did you enjoy your meal, Poppet?"
I can't even speak. Instead, I grin and give him a breathless, emphatic nod.
Spike looks at me seriously and tilts his head. "So when do I get to eat?"