everything's currently being edited and i will post a couple of old drabbles and perhaps a few new ones.
She saw him at a run-down bar in the seedy part of Mars. Needless to say she was stunned, both at seeing him alive and seeing him with another woman, not a blonde or even a brunette but a fucking redhead. Her eyes narrowed at the sight, it was now or never.
It came over her like a wave, the sex that oozed out of every pore whenever the occasion called for it. Hips swaying to an unheard beat, lips plump and red, breasts spilling out her too small top; she danced her way to the booth where he sat with the foul redhead.
"Long time no see," she smiled seductively, reeling in her prey with a low voice that promised all his wildest fantasies come true.
He looked up, suddenly, with shrewd eyes, "That it is," he smirked back. The sleazy redhead seeing her defeat, quickly slinked out of the booth, leaving Spike for the taking.
She tilt her head, manicured fingernails caressing the lapels of his jacket, "What do you say we get out of here gaucho?"
He seemed to think about it for a split second before he rose from his seat, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, "Lead the way," he signaled, half mocking, half anxious. This would be a brand new dance for them, a new tune to which neither bothered learning the steps.
The walk to her apartment was blurry, she almost forgot where she lived. Her mind ready to explode at the thought of this gorgeous creature in her bed, at her mercy.
She pulled at his jacket slinging it off to the side, tugging at his pants with an ardor she'd never felt before. His hands burned as they gently slipped away her shirt, her jeans, long fingers pressing hard against her. He kissed her fiercely, with the enthusiasm of a man that hadn't been touched in many, many years. He ran his hand through her hair, smiling softly as she led him away to her bed.
"So fucking beautiful," he said softly, looking in her eyes for what seemed like an eternity.
"Shh- Don't talk," she responded harshly, pushing him back against her white sheets. Legs at either side of his hips, no more foreplay, no more tender embraces. She didn't give him a chance to say much of anything as she impaled herself on him.
Her mind went dark, and all she could feel was the place where they connected. She rolled her hips and he grit his teeth, a swift movement with her long legs had him on top of her, his sinewy arms braced against her soft mattress.
"Harder," she moaned, running her long nails across the expanse of his back.
He grunted and let out a long groan, and somewhere, faintly she heard words of love and fake promises. She didn't want to hear it, any of it, no matter how good it made her feel.
"God, I want you," he said, voice nearly inaudible but still somehow it reverberated through his chest and she melted at the smoothness of his voice. He collapsed against her as the waves of orgasm fill her very being.
She rolled over on her side, facing the wall, not wanting to see his face at the moment, but soon she felt his wiry arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her to him, she wanted to cry.
Because all she wanted was a lover she didn't have to love, a one night fuck with someone she once considered herself to be in love with, she wanted to dispose of him as easily as he did her. But already she could feel the tug of eternal sweet words and lovely caresses. She could feel the hurt coming on, the sadness and bitterness that would taint her voice. But maybe this time she'd let herself go, be free, and feel everything.
"I want you too," she whispered in the darkness of her bedroom, and in the dead of the night she kissed a calloused hand, with a promise she wasn't sure she could keep on her lips.