Non-Verbal Communication
Jul. 26th, 2008 11:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Buffy/?
Rating: NC-17
Summary: But she promised Willow. There were three steps: go out, have fun, make a friend. The last bit came with a bouncing eyebrow.
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kink_bingo prompt-anonymous sex and set post-comics canon, taking into account all comic canon to date.
When she walks into the bright lights and dim corners of the dance club, she knows this isn’t the place for her. The flashing neon, the faintly oily smelling smoke-signals to someone else, someone less…damaged. She’s danced with too many unfriendly shadows to find excitement in them now.
But she promised Willow. There were three steps: go out, have fun, make a friend. The last bit came with a bouncing eyebrow. Even after almost ending the world and mostly saving it, Willow still couldn’t pull off wicked. Buffy wonders if the vampire Willow got all the wicked. She wonders if Willow knows her vampire self got them all, Giles included, hot.
She must’ve known, Buffy decides. Giles’ glasses had actual steam on them. No way even a quasi-innocent, almost nice high school nerd could miss actual steam.
Not even a full minute on the floor and the vampires are winning the battle for her good time. She moves, body pressing against the strong one behind her. She can make friends. Who needs to talk to make friends? Talking just gets in the way.
His hand rides up the curve of her hip, sliding up to linger on her nipple. She arches into his touch, hips tilting in time to the rhythm of his pulse. She’s learned, over the years, how to take a discreet pulse. She might be vamp bait but she tries to avoid the accusation of groupie. Spike isn’t allowed to be right, no matter how right he was.
A calloused finger reaches her neck, strokes her as she moans. The thick scar tissue shouldn’t be an erogenous zone, shouldn’t send direct shocks of arousal to her clit. The scars of multiple fangs are meant to be a reminder, a warning inscribed on her flesh, of her vulnerability. She dies a little every day, fighting against an infinite army of evil. One day her body will get the message and she’ll finally get the peace she seeks.
But the strong hands on her neck and the thick cock pressing into her ass anchor her to the here and now. She’s supposed to be spending her attention on Mr. Here and Now. After all, she made a promise to Willow.
She does an almost pirouette, a slight twirl on her toes so that she can face him. She wants to see him, see his…very familiar face. Buffy stumbles as she stares at Angel.
Except he’s not Angel because Angel is in L.A. Also, Angel is part of the pulse-free crowd and this man has a nice pulse. An attractive pulse, if you go for that sort of thing, which she totally does despite what some not so much people as vampires say and oh my god he looks exactly like Angel.
But he’s not Angel and he’s staring at her quizzically. She smiles, brushing away his unspoken concern with a shrug of her shoulders. Talking would definitely get in the way right now. Better they stay non-verbal and so she kisses him, reveling in the heat of his talented mouth.
It’s good that he’s not Angel, she thinks hazily as he nudges her into a dark corner of the club. Simple is best. Better than best, even.
He pushes up her skirt, pushing aside the scrap of fabric that separates him from her. His fingers slide between her moist folds; opening her, teasing her. A few seconds later and he pushes into her, thick cock filling her. Her legs wrap around his waist, back arching in need as she begins to ride him.
He leans over to suck at her neck, tongue mapping the ridges and dips of her scars. The dual sensations of cock and tongue send shockwaves through her body, shudders of pleasure that intensify when his finger finds her clit. The combination overwhelms her and she comes, bucking out her orgasm.
Before she stops, he fucks her harder. His hips snap as he drives into her, sending her reeling again. She begs for more, begs him to stop and he nuzzles her neck again.
When she comes this time, she calls him Angel. He doesn’t pause and he doesn’t respond, he just keeps fucking her, driving himself into her tight heat and she’s glad. Talking really is overrated.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: But she promised Willow. There were three steps: go out, have fun, make a friend. The last bit came with a bouncing eyebrow.
A/N: Written for
kink_bingo prompt-anonymous sex and set post-comics canon, taking into account all comic canon to date. When she walks into the bright lights and dim corners of the dance club, she knows this isn’t the place for her. The flashing neon, the faintly oily smelling smoke-signals to someone else, someone less…damaged. She’s danced with too many unfriendly shadows to find excitement in them now.
But she promised Willow. There were three steps: go out, have fun, make a friend. The last bit came with a bouncing eyebrow. Even after almost ending the world and mostly saving it, Willow still couldn’t pull off wicked. Buffy wonders if the vampire Willow got all the wicked. She wonders if Willow knows her vampire self got them all, Giles included, hot.
She must’ve known, Buffy decides. Giles’ glasses had actual steam on them. No way even a quasi-innocent, almost nice high school nerd could miss actual steam.
Not even a full minute on the floor and the vampires are winning the battle for her good time. She moves, body pressing against the strong one behind her. She can make friends. Who needs to talk to make friends? Talking just gets in the way.
His hand rides up the curve of her hip, sliding up to linger on her nipple. She arches into his touch, hips tilting in time to the rhythm of his pulse. She’s learned, over the years, how to take a discreet pulse. She might be vamp bait but she tries to avoid the accusation of groupie. Spike isn’t allowed to be right, no matter how right he was.
A calloused finger reaches her neck, strokes her as she moans. The thick scar tissue shouldn’t be an erogenous zone, shouldn’t send direct shocks of arousal to her clit. The scars of multiple fangs are meant to be a reminder, a warning inscribed on her flesh, of her vulnerability. She dies a little every day, fighting against an infinite army of evil. One day her body will get the message and she’ll finally get the peace she seeks.
But the strong hands on her neck and the thick cock pressing into her ass anchor her to the here and now. She’s supposed to be spending her attention on Mr. Here and Now. After all, she made a promise to Willow.
She does an almost pirouette, a slight twirl on her toes so that she can face him. She wants to see him, see his…very familiar face. Buffy stumbles as she stares at Angel.
Except he’s not Angel because Angel is in L.A. Also, Angel is part of the pulse-free crowd and this man has a nice pulse. An attractive pulse, if you go for that sort of thing, which she totally does despite what some not so much people as vampires say and oh my god he looks exactly like Angel.
But he’s not Angel and he’s staring at her quizzically. She smiles, brushing away his unspoken concern with a shrug of her shoulders. Talking would definitely get in the way right now. Better they stay non-verbal and so she kisses him, reveling in the heat of his talented mouth.
It’s good that he’s not Angel, she thinks hazily as he nudges her into a dark corner of the club. Simple is best. Better than best, even.
He pushes up her skirt, pushing aside the scrap of fabric that separates him from her. His fingers slide between her moist folds; opening her, teasing her. A few seconds later and he pushes into her, thick cock filling her. Her legs wrap around his waist, back arching in need as she begins to ride him.
He leans over to suck at her neck, tongue mapping the ridges and dips of her scars. The dual sensations of cock and tongue send shockwaves through her body, shudders of pleasure that intensify when his finger finds her clit. The combination overwhelms her and she comes, bucking out her orgasm.
Before she stops, he fucks her harder. His hips snap as he drives into her, sending her reeling again. She begs for more, begs him to stop and he nuzzles her neck again.
When she comes this time, she calls him Angel. He doesn’t pause and he doesn’t respond, he just keeps fucking her, driving himself into her tight heat and she’s glad. Talking really is overrated.