Title: Love's A Funny Thing
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Buffy is (believe it or not)
working as a stand up comedian. Spike owns
the club where she's currently performing.
Part 4....
Buffy sent all of her doubts into a small corner of
her unconscious mind. This was dangerous behavior
she was exhibiting, with an unpredictable outcome,
but at the moment...she just couldn't force herself to
care.
Spike turned and carried her across the small room
to a small table. He lowered her onto it, then broke their
kiss and straightened up.
With slow, deliberate movements, he popped the top
snap of her jeans and slid the zipper down.
Logic kept trying to barge its way into her brain and
take over the operation of it.
**What are you doing?** it whispered in her
ear. **You're about to have sex with a veritable
stranger.**
'Not a stranger', her body protested strongly, leaning
on the door to keep logic out. 'Go away!'
**This is a bad idea** her brain warned.
'Says YOU!' her body replied. 'I think it's the best idea
we've ever had. I mean, just LOOK at him!'
**You're heading for trouble**
'Who cares?'.
**Fine! When it blows up in your face, don't blame
it on me. I tried.**
'Don't worry, I won't!'
Throwing herself into the action, she lifted her hips
high enough off the table to facilitate the removal of her
jeans and her underpants.
Spike dropped her clothes on the floor, then pushed her
t-shirt and bra up out of his way. His hands went straight
to her breasts, squeezing and stroking them.
"You're so damn beautiful," he said softly. "I can't
imagine any man foolish enough to let you get away."
Buffy smiled. "He didn't 'let' me get away," she in-
formed him. "I just did."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Another thing I noticed about relationships once they
start going south is that you never go to bed at the same
time anymore. He'll be yawning...stretching...giving you
that 'look'...the one that you now hate with every molecule
in your body."
Holding her arms up, she faked a yawn. "Think I'll turn in
now, honey. You say fine...great...be right there. Then
you wait, hoping he'll fall asleep. You'll be off the hook and
it won't be your fault. The next morning, you can say 'Hey,
what happened last night? I came to bed and you were,
like, unconscious. Wow, you must have been gone before
your head hit the pillow.'
She sighed deeply.
"Problem is that just waiting him out doesn't always
work. He's liable to come back out after ten minutes and
ask you what the hold up is. That's when you have to come
up with things to do, things you absolutely must get done
before you can even THINK of coming to bed."
Addressing the unseen boyfriend, she put on a harried
expression. "I really need to get these Christmas cards
ready to mail. December's only eight months away, and
you KNOW what the post office always says about not
waiting till the last minute. Oh, and I've been meaning
to wallpaper the house for ages and there's no time like
the present. I just have to run out and buy the paper. Back
in a jif!"
When the laughter faded, she glanced over her shoulder
to consult an imaginary list hidden in her hand.
"Ummm...I have FOURTEEN cross word puzzles I've
been trying to catch up on!" she squealed. "Plus...I need
to shampoo the living room rug, look for fleas and
ticks on the dog, replace the battery in the smoke
alarm, adjust the ignition timing on my car, shake
the crumbs out of the toaster, and write a letter to my
Congressman about all those people driving by themselves
in the car pool lanes."
Her audience cracked up, delighting her.
"Comes a time when you'll do anything, SAY anything,
just to avoid sex. Well, anything except tell the damn
truth. Can't do THAT." Making an exasperated face,
she threw her hands up in defeat and shrugged. "You
revolt me...what can I say? Sorry.
But if you don't tell the truth, you're gonna find your
ass in a therapist's office. Because he's going to say, 'I
think we're having a few problems, honey. Maybe we
should get some help...maybe we should see some-
one...maybe we should talk to a professional and get
things back on the right track.
And you're looking at him, thinking...'Maybe you should
just get the the hell out!' "
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Spike leaned down and buried his face against the
side of her throat, biting just hard enough to sting
a bit, then soothing that sting with the seductive
wash of his tongue.
His hand moved down and caressed her thigh. "Open
up, darling," he whispered hotly against her skin. "Let
me in."
Buffy moaned and did what he wanted, completely
seduced by his voice and those tender, but ravenous
kisses he was covering her with.
He stepped closer to the table, standing between her
dangling legs.
"I'm going to make you come so hard," he told her,
his voice deep with excitement. Slipping his hand
between her thighs, he cupped her sex and squeezed
it firmly. "Right here. I can't wait to feel it when
I'm in you as deep as I can go."
Neither could she!
"That's good, baby," he crooned, as his finger gently
rubbed her labia. "Make it all wet and juicy for me."
Buffy nerve endings were already on high alert, and
every word he spoke, every touch of his hand, just
sent them higher. Without her even telling them to, her
thighs clamped down around his hand and she shimmied
her butt around a little.
He gasped. "Oh, yes...that's the way," he encouraged
her, his tone like hot caramel. "Move your pretty bottom
around...show me how you'll move when my dick is inside
you. Do it!"
Nearly cross eyed with pleasure, Buffy complied.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"So...after it's all over, you can get back in circulation. It's
exciting, isn't it? Out with the old...in with the new."
She snapped her fingers in a quick rhythm.
"I'm young. I'm...not BAD looking....and now, I'm free! I
can flirt, I can go out, I can dance, I can date!"
Her excited voice went suddenly flat.
"Yippee."
She took a sip of water, then affected a distasteful
look.
"Oh, man," she whined. "Dating in this day and age. I'm
finally back in the game and it's been changed to
Russian Roulette."
She pointed an imaginary gun at her temple, clicking her
tongue; "Perverts." click "Sexually transmitted diseases"
click "Date rape" click "Faulty birth control." click.
She sighed. "It's just a matter of time before one of them
gets ya. I'll admit it. I'm a little afraid to date. Sort of like
I'm afraid to fly. I know the odds of crashing are a million
to one, but all I can see is the one. One's all it takes."
Several heads nodded in agreement.
"But, you have to date...the same way you have to fly. Well,
that's not exactly true, is it? You don't HAVE to fly. You
aren't gonna spend the rest of your life alone because you're
too chicken shit to get on a 747."
One of the young waiters handed her a fresh glass of
ice water.
"Thank you. You're cute," she told him. "Isn't he cute,
ladies?"
There was a lot of applause and a few wolf whistles.
"Calm down, girls. No, seriously...where do you go to meet
guys these days? I'm so out of practice. I see most of you
all in here are coupled up. Where did YOU guys meet?" she
asked a middle aged man and woman at one of the smaller
tables. "A bar?" She repeated the woman's reply so the
audience could hear it. "Is that a good idea? I really want
to know. It is? What bar?... Where's that?...Yeah?...So,
how drunk did he have to get you before you...What?...Two
beers?....Hey, big spender!....That's all it took?...Well, was
it at least imported beer?"
Jumping down from the stool, she placed her glass on it.
"I have this friend who's trying to fix me up with some guy she
works with. A blind date."
The audience groaned.
"Exactly! Talk about Russian Roulette. What are the odds
you're gonna hit the empty chamber? Pre-tty steep.
I hate blind dates, mostly because every one I've ever had
has gone bad. There's a lot of different factors that can
contribute to a bad blind date. Sometimes, you just don't
click, you know? There's no spark...no chemistry. For YOU,
that is. He's already naming your children.
That's the worst feeling ever! You've got nothing. Zip. Zilch.
Ain't gonna happen EVER. Meanwhile, he's proposing
before the appetizer arrives. You're mentally calculating
how long you're gonna have to sit there before you can yell
FOOD POISONING and run out the door. He's writing 'Mr
and Mrs Great Big Loser' on his cocktail napkin, and YOU'RE
writing...'Help me!' on yours."
She waited for the applause to wane.
"So...here it goes. You walk into whatever restaurant
you're supposed to meet him at, and you immediately
zero in on the handsomest, sexiest guy in the room."
She shook her head.
"What are you...crazy? Guys like that don't need fix ups.
Once you admit that the Elle MacPherson look alike
he's sitting with isn't his mother, you start this process of
elimination thing in your head."
She began scanning the men in the audience.
"Okay...it's not the guy in the Century 21 real estate
jacket. It had better NOT be the one stealing maraschino
cherries when the bartender's not looking. Oh, please,
don't let it be the one at the buffet digging in his ear with
his pinky finger."
Making a disgusted face, she bit her lower lip for a
moment.
"Tell me it's not 'Comb Over Guy' or 'Big Hairy Mole'.
And not 'Wet Armpits Man' either. Oh, if it's that guy
with the cold sore I will just....no! Sit down...sit
down...sit the fuck down! Don't look at me like you
know who I am. Just keep walking...I'm not fucking
around here....keep on going because I am absolutely
not interested in you at all since you are totally
not my type...not if you were the last man on the
face of the...Hi, I'm Buffy. You must be Steve."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One long finger slid inside of her, making her gasp
and raise her hips.
Spike chuckled softly. "You like that?" he asked,
pumping that finger in and out.
She hoped he wasn't expecting some kind of coherent
answer, because she was fresh out!
"Uhhhh," she moaned, nodding agreeably.
"Want more?"
What kind of dumb question was THAT?
"Yeah...more..."
Bending over, he silenced her with a long, savagely
hungry kiss. "Do you want me to fuck you?"
She did. She really, really did.
When his finger slipped out of her, she opened her
eyes, prepared to complain.
Spike didn't give her that chance. He grabbed her
hands and pulled her into a sitting position.
"Here," he instructed her, placing one of her hands
on his hip, and the other one on his zipper. "You
do it. I want to watch you take it out. See those
pretty little hands on me."
It was a good idea for someone whose fingers
weren't clumsy with sexual need. Gamely though,
she forced herself to concentrate on the task set
for her.
The zipper slid down with amazing ease. Slipping
one hand inside his trousers, she was thrown briefly
off course. "You forgot your underwear when you got
dressed."
Spike grinned. "Guess again."
She met his gaze briefly. "Oh. No boxers, no briefs?"
she ventured.
"Clever girl."
Her hand delved deeper, her fingers wrapping around
her target.
She squeezed.
He groaned.
She slid her hand up and down.
He hissed in air between his clenched teeth.
She caressed the head of his penis with her thumb.
He muttered a soft curse.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"There's usually one guy in the restaurant who prac-
tically screams 'MAKE ME YOUR SEX SLAVE'! One
or two are 'pretty good looking'. One is 'acceptable
as is', and one is 'acceptable after I make a few minor
adjustments'. However...none of THOSE guys are there
for your benefit.
But I sort of pride myself on not being superficial and
shallow. Outward appearances are NOT the measuring
stick whereby people are judged. That's MY motto."
She paused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Waiting a moment longer, she expelled a loud breath of
resignation.
"All right, all right. I'm shallow. Not deep," she con-
fessed. "I'm not the Atlantic Ocean. I'm a puddle...on
a hot day."
Putting up both hands, she turned her face away from
the audience in mock shame. "Don't look at me," she
whimpered. "I'm hideous."
They all laughed, and Buffy peeked out through her
fingers.
"Still, even though I loathe blind dates, I go all out to look
my sexiest best. Been working on myself all day. Bought
a new outfit. Showered with scented soap. Removed
all unwanted hair from my body. Spent an hour on my
make up. I do all this...and the clown I'm trying to impress
didn't even brush his teeth."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Slinging one arm around Spike's neck, Buffy pulled
him into a wet, deep kiss as she pressed the head of his
erection against her opening.
"Mmmmm....wait," he panted, moving back.
If she waited, she was afraid she'd lose her nerve.
"I can't wait," she almost sobbed. "I need you."
"Me, too, baby....but let me get you ready."
"I'm ready, I'm ready! Look at my face. This is a
ready face."
"No," he insisted, urging her to lie back down. "I
can take you higher."
Before she knew what he was about, she felt the
wet lash of his tongue licking her between her legs.
"Oh, all right. Higher's good. Really good."
Her entire body shuddered with helpless pleasure
beneath his relentless mouth. He tongued her clit,
then sucked on it softly.
He was insatiable. Redirecting his mouth, he pushed
his tongue inside her and massaged her clit with his
thumb.
"Oh, my God....you....you weren't kidding..."
"Hmmm?" he murmured.
"You...really know what you're...doing!"
Time no longer had meaning. The only thing in the world
was him, this man bringing her to one delicious peak after
another. Buffy actually lost count of the little 'mini' orgasms
his tongue induced. It all began to run together in one long
endless wave of shivering pleasure.
He licked and sucked at her sensitive flesh as though
he was taking some kind of nourishment from it. His
tongue lapped wetly, she could hear the sounds it was
making, and it drove her arousal to an even higher pitch.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Now...we may feel that way...we may want this guy to
disappear from the face of the earth...but he'd better not
feel that way about us. Even if WE don't want HIM, we
want HIM to want US. Does that make sense?"
There was scattered applause.
"Oh, good. See guys, the thing is....we want you to notice
us. We want ALL of you to notice us. Every last one of
you." She snapped her fingers for attention. "Hey! Look
over here! I don't care how happily married a guy is. We
want him to take one look at us and briefly contemplate
leaving his wife and children."
Leaning casually against the stool, she gave the once
over to an imaginary female. "Jesus Christ....will you look
at her! Where the hell were you when I was single?" A
long pause, then, "Fuck it...I'm calling my lawyer."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When she finally opened her eyes, she caught him
staring at her with a look of absolute delight on his
handsome face.
"You're amazing," he said, kissing the inside of her
thigh.
"M..me? I am?" she panted. "I didn't even do anything
yet."
His grin widened. "Are you joking? You just fell to pieces
in my hands and came in my mouth. I love the way you
lose control like that. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen."
Buffy cleared her throat. "I don't think I've ever done that
before. Not like that, anyway." She raised herself onto
her elbows. "Oh, don't look so smug. Contrary to what I
say on stage, I'm not overloaded with experience."
Spike placed his hands beneath her bottom and pulled her
towards the edge of the table.
"Well then," he said in a silky tone of voice that made
her shiver. "Are you ready to get a little more under your
belt?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"We want to walk into a bar or a restaurant and have
every man in the place trip over his own tongue. We want the
bag boy to follow us around the market, hoping we'll bend
over to get something off a low shelf. We want the guy who
delivers the pizza to wink at us and say, 'No charge, babe'.
We want the cop who stops us to give us a speeding ticket
to....well, not give us a ticket. Is that too much to ask?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
TBC.....
(Soon. If I don't get back to Devlin, there's gonna
be a mutiny!)
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