Title: No Escape
Word Count: 602
Warnings: Sexual situations and language, R.
Spoilers: Post-Chosen sometime.
Summary: Written for the prompt ‘No Escape from Heaven’
Stretched out across the bed; decadently lazy and naked, lusty and oh god… somehow still not satisfied from their morning workout, Spike doesn’t look the least bit concerned about their predicament.
“Please,” she implores him, trying to convey the importance of some trivial thing called freedom in only four words, “help me get this?” Buffy gives the door handle another tug; slayer strength not withstanding, the door still won’t budge; it’s nothing less than supernaturally stuck.
She’s been through the whole locked in a bedroom thing before and her mind rushes through a range of nasty possibilities she might have to stick her stake into: curses, backfiring experimental spellwork, possessed sisters, non-possessed sisters with superglue and some petty vengeance over a ruined skirt that totally wasn’t the fault of anyone whose name began with a B… About all she could rule out this time was the teenage sex ghosts and looking at Spike’s readiness for more, she wasn’t even totally sure about that.
“Maybe if the two of us pull on it,” she tries, but he’s not exactly leaping to her aid. “What?”
“Just get back into bed.” He scratches his belly button idly, knowing how to innocently draw her eyes to his fresh erection, making the invitation look as guileless as it is deliberate.
He’s not worried at all and immediately suspicion replaces the dread, and that’s a good thing as her next move would have been to try kicking down the door and they can’t afford any more new ones. “Spike! I need to get to work, we have a deadline.”
Trust the undead not to understand the importance of everyday human problems, like earning money to eat, to keep the roof over their heads, to supply unemployed vampire boyfriends with blood, beer and Nicorette patches.
His smirk is sinful and she wonders for a moment if he was lying all along about that soul thing, as there’s a glimmer of wickedness in his eye she doesn’t trust one little bit. “Don’t worry,” he upgrades the smirk to a full grin, selling his ruse using the maximum car salesman wattage, “l already called your boss while you were in the loo. You’ve got tonsillitis, can’t speak and all. Got the witch to seal us in for the week.”
“Spike!” She really doesn’t know why she bothers protesting. It’s not as if she’s been shocked by anything he’s got up to for a very long time.
Then, one moment she’s pulling on a door that just isn’t going to open by any physical means, wondering how she’s going to do important things like pee and eat, realising that he’s set all this up just so they can keep going with something they’ve been at for three hours already, the next she’s been grabbed and she’s pinned to the bed, pressed back into the Memory Foam mattress and wriggling beneath one very aroused vampire, knowing another round of really great sex is now more than a certainty. She hates her life, really she does.
Just maybe not so much right now.
“There’s no escape from heaven, pet,” he whispers softly into her ear as his hand slips between her thighs and his talented fingers start to do their work.
His cheesy line is wrong and he should know better, damn him. She knows the cost more than most. He knows it too, yet he isn’t apologising.
But, as his lips start to place fluttering kisses down her neck and his hands work their special magic on her, she thinks someone really should remind her again of why that was ever an actual problem.