make smut, not war!
Mar. 20th, 2003 02:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timepiececlockOk, here it is.
I couldn't do 250 words... I did 800. ::blush::
I just wrote this strait through for an hour an a half... no rereading, no editing, no beta and only a semi-useful spellchecker.
My first smut fic. Perhaps not the most graphic one out there, but I think it qualifies the rating.
The concept sort of changed from what I'd originally planned, and I hope it comes across and isn't too muddled. This was inspired by two different things... partially from something I read in a fic that, for how a scene between B&S played out, bothered me for it's lack of... well, responsibilty. Also, partially inspired from a discussion in my psych class (we're on the chapter on mental disorders) about ramifications of certain interactions with... well, read the fic. But people get arrested for this kind of thing in real life. I hope the end's not too vague; I'm too tired to go over it any more.
Early season 7, any time between BY & Him.
Turnabout
His hands roamed over her hips as she rocked forward, and Buffy threw her head back to stare starry-eyed at the ceiling. God this was perfect—everything she needed was here, in the tips of his fingers and the art of his tongue. This was her coming-home. To have him once more—inside her, around her, above or below it didn’t matter because he was there, cock and chest and arms and neck, waiting on her as only Spike could.
Wandering lonely halls had led her to him again, but he was different from the first. He was nervous and apologetic but flirty too. His eyes were clear and his walk made her heart race again, like the day he’d walked into her house like Spike again. When he’d touched her face she’d broken, pushing him down and asking for that thing, the thing that had hurt them so much but could make everything right again, because she really wanted him, and he had a soul, and it was ok now.
I need you.
Ok.
His eyes were the same blue as the last time she’d twisted down him onto the cement, forced him to talk while she took. The basement was dirty and Spike was dirty but she remembered what dirty felt like. She knew with every inhalation that this could be their world again, fading to familiar with kisses an touches. Crates were mausoleums, cabinets were gravestones, the shreds of a blanket rubbed like crabgrass under her knees as she worked his zipper and he made a timid joke about timing. She’d giggled a bit, smiled for him and started to reply but then he was free, hard in her hands and her lips had other uses than talking.
Cool and long in her mouth, just like she remembered, and to have him moaning again, the best sort of moans, was all she needed in the world. Soon he was pulling at her, bringing her forward and dodging her mouth to assault her neck. He lapped up her sweat and she sank onto him, too anxious to wait anymore.
Up and down her world spun; laugh and cry and scream blended together. This was her place, this was her self, this was what Buffy wanted to live for. Spike squirmed and bucked beneath her, told her she was the sun and came when she squeezed. His hands wandered from her hips to her cunt and she was screaming too, fingers fisted into his chest while pushed and pulled until everything of his was hers and hers was his.
Downward she drifted, caressing his hair and his face. Look at me she pleaded silently, and was rewarded with his unblinking gaze. “That was wonderful,” she whispered into his cheek, smiling between butterfly kisses. “I missed you so much; I needed you so bad.”
Spike smiled back at her, and palms drifted to cup her face. Lips to forehead, to nose, and then blue met green and he grinned impishly. “Carrey-Ann danced the Maypole with the girls, and but I couldn’t go talk to them.” A sly wink, “T’wasn’t proper, t’wasn’t right, and boys go to hell for staring too long at white dresses.”
Buffy jerked her face from Spike's palms like acid was between them. He grabbed at her shoulders and pulled her forward again, nose to nose.
“I’ve got a pocket full of posies for you, pretty warm girl, but you can’t go back out in the dark. Hurts in the dark. Why are you crying?”
Buffy nearly screamed as she fumbled backwards, tearing easily away from her madman’s soft hands. He watched her go and tears began for him too, just seeing hers. He leaped to his feet, naked thin, and demanded she stop because he didn’t want to cry. She’d said it was wonderful, hadn’t she? She said everything would be okay, that he was better. She was supposed to keep him warm and make it good again.
Why, why? He’d done what she’d wanted; it was supposed to be good now. But the girl was leaving, the girl was crying, the girl was finished there. And when he grabbed her hand, she looked at him, sobbed that word——the word of tearing/screaming/white/pain/cold/stop/tile/need/screaming——and begged his forgiveness.
I couldn't do 250 words... I did 800. ::blush::
I just wrote this strait through for an hour an a half... no rereading, no editing, no beta and only a semi-useful spellchecker.
My first smut fic. Perhaps not the most graphic one out there, but I think it qualifies the rating.
The concept sort of changed from what I'd originally planned, and I hope it comes across and isn't too muddled. This was inspired by two different things... partially from something I read in a fic that, for how a scene between B&S played out, bothered me for it's lack of... well, responsibilty. Also, partially inspired from a discussion in my psych class (we're on the chapter on mental disorders) about ramifications of certain interactions with... well, read the fic. But people get arrested for this kind of thing in real life. I hope the end's not too vague; I'm too tired to go over it any more.
Early season 7, any time between BY & Him.
Turnabout
His hands roamed over her hips as she rocked forward, and Buffy threw her head back to stare starry-eyed at the ceiling. God this was perfect—everything she needed was here, in the tips of his fingers and the art of his tongue. This was her coming-home. To have him once more—inside her, around her, above or below it didn’t matter because he was there, cock and chest and arms and neck, waiting on her as only Spike could.
Wandering lonely halls had led her to him again, but he was different from the first. He was nervous and apologetic but flirty too. His eyes were clear and his walk made her heart race again, like the day he’d walked into her house like Spike again. When he’d touched her face she’d broken, pushing him down and asking for that thing, the thing that had hurt them so much but could make everything right again, because she really wanted him, and he had a soul, and it was ok now.
I need you.
Ok.
His eyes were the same blue as the last time she’d twisted down him onto the cement, forced him to talk while she took. The basement was dirty and Spike was dirty but she remembered what dirty felt like. She knew with every inhalation that this could be their world again, fading to familiar with kisses an touches. Crates were mausoleums, cabinets were gravestones, the shreds of a blanket rubbed like crabgrass under her knees as she worked his zipper and he made a timid joke about timing. She’d giggled a bit, smiled for him and started to reply but then he was free, hard in her hands and her lips had other uses than talking.
Cool and long in her mouth, just like she remembered, and to have him moaning again, the best sort of moans, was all she needed in the world. Soon he was pulling at her, bringing her forward and dodging her mouth to assault her neck. He lapped up her sweat and she sank onto him, too anxious to wait anymore.
Up and down her world spun; laugh and cry and scream blended together. This was her place, this was her self, this was what Buffy wanted to live for. Spike squirmed and bucked beneath her, told her she was the sun and came when she squeezed. His hands wandered from her hips to her cunt and she was screaming too, fingers fisted into his chest while pushed and pulled until everything of his was hers and hers was his.
Downward she drifted, caressing his hair and his face. Look at me she pleaded silently, and was rewarded with his unblinking gaze. “That was wonderful,” she whispered into his cheek, smiling between butterfly kisses. “I missed you so much; I needed you so bad.”
Spike smiled back at her, and palms drifted to cup her face. Lips to forehead, to nose, and then blue met green and he grinned impishly. “Carrey-Ann danced the Maypole with the girls, and but I couldn’t go talk to them.” A sly wink, “T’wasn’t proper, t’wasn’t right, and boys go to hell for staring too long at white dresses.”
Buffy jerked her face from Spike's palms like acid was between them. He grabbed at her shoulders and pulled her forward again, nose to nose.
“I’ve got a pocket full of posies for you, pretty warm girl, but you can’t go back out in the dark. Hurts in the dark. Why are you crying?”
Buffy nearly screamed as she fumbled backwards, tearing easily away from her madman’s soft hands. He watched her go and tears began for him too, just seeing hers. He leaped to his feet, naked thin, and demanded she stop because he didn’t want to cry. She’d said it was wonderful, hadn’t she? She said everything would be okay, that he was better. She was supposed to keep him warm and make it good again.
Why, why? He’d done what she’d wanted; it was supposed to be good now. But the girl was leaving, the girl was crying, the girl was finished there. And when he grabbed her hand, she looked at him, sobbed that word——the word of tearing/screaming/white/pain/cold/stop/tile/need/screaming——and begged his forgiveness.
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no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 04:49 am (UTC)just kidding heh...i've done it some times...but never writeen buffy porn...::looks at sara all weird like::
no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 06:10 am (UTC)Well done!
no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 07:40 am (UTC)Ahem. Rashaka, that was awesome :)
no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 08:12 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 08:40 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 08:44 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 08:48 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 08:50 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 08:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 08:56 am (UTC)Thanks! I was worried; first smut fic and all.
Also why there should be no Spuffy sex. Thank You.
Wel, I wouldn't say that. I'm all for Spuffy sex. Just not sex with crazy people, because that's so wrong.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 10:23 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 10:29 am (UTC)Take that bitch!
We all had issues with SR. We all still have issues with SR. Be it disturbing imagery, characterization, plot ineffectiveness, morality arguements... pick something, and Marti is to blame.
wow
Date: 2003-03-20 12:21 pm (UTC)But back to your story. Spike's reaction is absolutely perfect. And I'm glad she asked for forgiveness.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 12:54 pm (UTC)Harsh and poignant, beautiful and twisting, yet simple all the same. Really enjoyed this.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 02:16 pm (UTC)Re: wow
Date: 2003-03-20 03:12 pm (UTC)Exactly. I think if they make a peace they could be together now and I'd love to see it.
In fact I think it was the only piece of decent storytelling Marti Moron ever produced - made perfect sense to me in context and he did need something huge to push him into going to get a soul
I had SR in the back of my mind for a lot of writing this. I thought: How bad and twisted would it be, if-- after all the pain and sufferign and torture Spike went through because he tried to rape Buffy-- Buffy came to him, thought she was making love and that he was ok, only to realize that he wasn't ok, and that she had done to him the very thing she cursed him so viciously for. I thought, man, that would hurt.
But back to your story. Spike's reaction is absolutely perfect.
So my victorian psychobabble passed the mustard? I've been afraid to write crazy Spike for a long time, because I know so little about the era that William lived in. For this I thought-- I know what a Maypole is (though wasn't sure how to spell it), and I know what the posies were in the nursery rhyme, and both those things are British, so there you go!
And I'm glad she asked for forgiveness.
Me too; I was pleased when I thought of that, because how to end it was the more difficult part for me. I think it's why I switched from Buffy's perspecitve to Spike's... allowed me to abstractly show her realization better. Plus, I think at heart Buffy's a good person, and would ask for forgiveness
no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 03:59 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 04:00 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 04:24 pm (UTC):;giggles::
Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 04:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 05:13 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 06:31 pm (UTC)so imagine the whammy at the end when Spike is all crazy! Whoa.
Yeah, I guess that would be more of a shock then. Huh. Glad you liked the story though! And thanks for commenting. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-03-20 07:22 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-03-20 07:59 pm (UTC)::squeal:: You like? Kick ass.
I particularly liked this line: "The basement was dirty and Spike was dirty but she remembered what dirty felt like." Excellent turn of phrase.
:g: You picked out my favorite line of the whole fic, maybe second favorite. As soon as I typed that I knew I had to leave it totally alone or I'd ruin it.
Thanks for sharing!
Your welcome, and thank you for commenting!
Turnabout
Date: 2003-03-23 10:02 am (UTC)I hesitated reading this fan fic, until just now. I had a feeling about it, that it was very sad somehow. But, I want to tell you that I really think you got it, by George. As much as I love Spuffyness (and I do), Spike would not have made it if Buffy and he had come together at the time your story took place. Both were in very bad places then, and I know alot of Spuffy lovers don't agree with this, but I've a feeling that by the time 22 is over Spike and Buffy will be together in a way we all will love.
Luv, Spuf
Re: Turnabout
Date: 2003-03-23 11:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-03 01:52 pm (UTC)You've captured what I like to call Buffy's 'lack of awareness' better than many of the staff writers. It's an excellent mirror to Spike's lack of awareness of the same scenario. Another excellent characterization of Buffy was her reaction. Cry, make a strong proclamation, say she's sorry and run away.
But I think probably the best bit of capturing a character in the moment was this: "Why, why? He’d done what she’d wanted; it was supposed to be good now" PreSoul!Spike couldn't grasp selfish motivation, CrazySoul!Spike didn't either. The Spike we have now does.
Truthfully, I don't like the piece. It hurts too much, in ways that many h/c fics don't. Somehow raping the mentally ill is somehow worse than raping the weak and defenseless like we see in so many S/A(us) or Spike post Chip fics. And it's also missing the comfort part, I can't stomach the hurt very well without the comfort.
But it is an amazing piece of work.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-03 03:14 pm (UTC)PreSoul!Spike couldn't grasp selfish motivation, CrazySoul!Spike didn't either. The Spike we have now does.
That's so true, and something I've found fascinating about Spike's character changes over time. Spike had no moral compass of his own, but because he believed so strongly in Buffy being good, his misjudged a lot of her season 6 behavior. He couldn't see the bad in it, or he forgave her too easily, or he valued himself so little that he htought what she did was ok. Also, patterning his "good behavior" after Buffy didn't work out so well either, because she made mistakes. And then he was crazy, and nothing a crazy person does or says can be assumed to be rational.
It hurts too much, in ways that many h/c fics don't. Somehow raping the mentally ill is somehow worse than raping the weak and defenseless like we see in so many S/A(us) or Spike post Chip fics. And it's also missing the comfort part, I can't stomach the hurt very well without the comfort.
I also found this very distrubing to write. I had hoped though that the last line, with Buffy apologizing to him (instead of Spike apologizing to her) would have assauged some of the badness of it.
Thanks again for yuor comments!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-04 06:53 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-04-04 09:53 am (UTC)