Word count: 592
Setting: S2 immediately post School Hard
Summary: Buffy has always made Spike's head hurt
Warnings: adult language, sexual situations
A/N: Thank you to Gort for the beta! This is just an itty-bitty thing, but if you want, you can squint at it and it fits into the Doomverse. Also, I'm going with the headcanon that Buffy was on her period in School Hard.
Thank you mods for hosting this little celebration and cheers everyone on 20 years of Spike! :-D
What a bloody awful headache.
With a sigh, Spike sat up in bed. Beside him, Dru slept peacefully, her dark hair curtaining her face. One of her bare shoulders was visible and, with a faint smile, Spike pulled the comforter up to cover her.
The movement made him wince. His blasted skull was throbbing from the Slayer’s mum belting him with an axe. It was keeping him awake.
Well, that and the sweet scent of the Slayer. He could swear it still lingered in his nose, hot and rich. Her blood. Not the fresh blood of a cut, but the old blood that’d been leaking from her cunt. Still Slayer blood.
Still distracting. It’d thrown him off his game. He should have taken her down quicker.
He should have…
Hands trembling, he grabbed his cigs off the nightstand and tapped the pack against his palm smartly before pulling one out.
It took him two tries to get it lit.
It was a good thing Dru didn’t get her monthlies. She was temperamental enough without. It’d be a right sodding mess if he had to ride that rollercoaster with her every twenty-eight days.
He managed to redirect his thoughts for two seconds before they went right back to the girl.
Christ, the Slayer walking through a cemetery smelling like that must have every vamp in a ten-mile radius showing up. Moths to a flame.
What a flame.
The man buried deep inside of him was a little uncomfortable with all these thoughts about a woman’s period. Spike snorted out a stream of smoke. When he’d been human, he hadn’t even known what menstruation was.
As a demon…eh, honestly? It wasn’t a topic that came up much either.
He closed his eyes. He wouldn’t mind investigating the Slayer’s monthlies a little closer, pulling on her tampon string and tugging that bit of cotton right out of her, making her squirm.
William harrumphed. She’s got hair like sunshine incarnate and you want to worry about her feminine hygiene products? That part of his mind pulled out a chair at a wooden desk and sat down to put pen to paper, trying to find just the right word to describe the sheen of her honey-colored locks and reaching out to pet the chit’s hair as his demon half bent the Slayer over the same desk to shag the hell out her. William, oddly enough, seemed just fine with that, even as the demon’s hips churned, coating its prick and the girl’s thighs with her dark blood.
She moaned Spike’s name and her fingers curled around the edge of the desk.
Spike dropped the end of his smoke and had to go searching for the butt, not finding it until after it’d scorched a burn mark on the quilt. Damn. Hopefully, Dru would never notice or she’d be shrieking up a storm.
He smashed the butt into an already overflowing ashtray and lay back down, dragging a hand over his eyes.
That’d escalated fast.
No sonnets, he told William firmly, not about spun gold. And he didn’t know what to do with the demon. It was supposed to be thinking about ripping the Slayer’s throat out, not wanting to…he hadn’t been imagining…
His mind was a buggering mess.
It was her fault. All of it. Especially that ripe scent of hers.
How was a bloke supposed to deal when she smelt like heaven?
He could show her heaven.
Oh, for crying out loud.
She could be our heaven.
Fuck, his head hurt.