A/N: Song featured in the title: "Ribcage (Acoustic)" by Crywolf.
"The Glory of Your Skin"
She hated him, just a little. Maybe she always had. Without even trying, Spike Spiegel had an air that encouraged admiration. The nonchalance of his posture, the crooked slant to his mouth, the-
"What are you doing?"
Faye jerked in the entryway of the commons, embarrassed for having been caught staring. With a scoff, she easily fell into a nonchalance of her own, her hips switching with purpose as she entered the room. "You're in my seat," she warned.
Remaining sprawled across the couch, Spike finally cracked open an eye and regarded her. "I don't recall this being your ship."
"It's not yours, either."
He closed his eyes again, though an irritating little smile lifted his mouth – one she instantly wanted to wipe clean. "I believe it's something called seniority, Faye."
She huffed. "Well in that case, I'm much, much older than you." Unimpressed with his attitude, she nudged his bent knee with her palm. "Are you going to move or not?"
"Not," he replied, still keeping his eyes closed. "Unless you plan on making me, of course."
For once, Faye wanted to take the high road – she did – but after weeks upon months of searching for herself, for her hopes, her dreams, her very identity, she felt oddly vulnerable and in need of physical contact…a contact that Spike had more or less invited her to initiate.
Swinging her leg up to straddle his lap, Faye took a certain pleasure in the way his eyes fluttered almost lazily, then opened to behold her with a dusky sort of fog – a hesitation that he rarely allowed to slip free. Despite the uncertainty in his eyes, he didn't move. He simply laid there, his hands laced behind his head while Faye dug her knees into either side of his hips.
"Are you ready to move yet?" she asked, her voice coming out far softer than intended.
Spike returned her gaze, unruffled despite the sudden gentleness in her touch…despite the way she leaned over him, intent on having his attentions in a way she'd never before required. Need me, touch me, see me…
Her mouth came over his then and Spike stiffened, unresponsive, before his fingers suddenly curled through her hair and yanked, deepening their kiss with an almost aggressive intensity. The way he groped and bit and pulled her against him was welcome, and Faye practically sobbed from the relief of his touch – of having someone there to prove she wasn't just intangible, adrift and lost forever.
The harsh press of his fingers made her feel marked, and as he started unfastening the suspenders holding up her shorts, it occurred to her then that he might be lonely too.
"Y'know, you're doing a pretty lousy job of getting me to move," Spike muttered, the taunt warming her lips as she brushed her nose over his.
She knew he'd said it to get a rise out of her – perhaps even to make her lash out, but instead, Faye wove her fingers through his hair and angled more fiercely into his mouth, silencing him with the desperate press of her lips.
He made a small noise of approval, and then his hands were back at her shorts, thumbing open the single button before sliding the garment down over her hips.
Faye broke the kiss with a shallow breath, her head shaking as she regarded him through bleary, lust-blown eyes. "W-wait a minute," she stammered. "Is Jet…?"
"Out," Spike replied.
"And the kid?"
"Also out…of her mind." Here, his mouth quirked into a grin. "Why? Are you scared?"
Yes, she realized, I am. She'd never before allowed herself to be so vulnerable and defenseless – not since Whitney. And even though a part of her knew Spike wasn't as indifferent, or cocksure, or even as cruel as he sometimes pretended to be, that didn't keep her from hesitating, her face pink and her breasts heaving as Spike traced slow, errant patterns along the backs of her thighs. His eyes lifted to her face then and she saw a flicker of something other than smug superiority…a certain melancholia, a perpetual sadness, and the clamp around her heart instantly loosened at the sight.
Fuck it.
Pulling Spike up by his lapels, Faye reclaimed his mouth with a rough, eager kiss, her teeth catching on his bottom lip as he resumed her disrobement. She wanted it to hurt. She didn't know why, but she felt like that was what she deserved.
Between their bodies, she moved to unfasten his pants. With his tongue glossing over her own, Faye moaned into their heated kiss, her fingers catching on the button a few times before she unzipped him. Spike gripped her hair in one hand and practically gnashed their teeth together, a curse rumbling low in his throat once slowly, she slid her hand inside his pants and rolled her palm against his growing hardness. He breathed out, soft and shallow, and for once, just this once, he exhibited a bit of vulnerability too.
"Looks like you might like me, after all," Faye purred.
Spike breathed out a laugh, a faint pink staining his cheeks as he regarded her. "I just might," he agreed.
As if to prove a point, Faye pulled him free from his boxers and curled her hand around his cock, stroking him slowly at first, and then building up a steady rhythm. Spike arched against the couch, his eyes squeezing shut as a muffled groan caught in his throat. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking, yearning, but she wasn't ready for that – not just yet. Instead, her lips came to his throat and he exhaled, surprising her when he slid a hand between her legs and circled her clit with his thumb.
"F-fu…" Refusing to give him the satisfaction, Faye swallowed back the swear and lifted back up again, parting her legs more fully to give him better access. Taking the hint, Spike plunged two fingers deep inside her, curling and stroking them between her walls while she quivered and tightened around his thrusting digits. It was embarrassing how easily he aroused her – how wet she was as she jerked him in time to his hurried, skillfully driving fingers.
"Wait," Faye gasped out. He obeyed, halting the incessant rocking between her thighs, and with a shaky exhale, she disengaged so she could peel off her shorts and thong the rest of the way. Unable to look him in the eye, she swung her leg back over him and straddled his cock, her chest shivering with breath as she began a firm, deliberate grind against his tip.
Spike held fast to her waist, his mouth growing slack as he encouraged her to roll against him more forcefully. They locked eyes then, and with a gusting sigh, Faye took him down to the hilt, both crying out as she adjusted to the sudden fullness. It all felt so good, so freeing, and moving her palms to his chest, she rocked her hips into him with a hint of desperation. Spike growled and the sound jolted straight to her aching cunt. Lashes fluttering closed, she gasped and tipped her head back, riding him into the couch as his fingers dug into her skin to the point of pain. They fucked like they fought – harsh and on the cusp of violence – and with his cock stroking against her spot over and over, Faye could already feel herself tipping dangerously close to the edge.
His thumb returned to her clit then, and damn him, damn him, she gasped and gripped at his shirt, bouncing in his lap as he jerked his hips in offering. Each time she slammed down into his thrusts, Spike rocked upward, the motion sliding his hardness against her bud as he stroked, circled, and rubbed at her clit from all angles.
Fighting back a sharp cry, Faye tightened around him and curled her toes, practically crumpling against his chest as she soaked him with her release. Spike made a low, throaty growl that left her pulsing wetly, and then she clenched around his cock as he, too, spiraled over the edge while spilling between her trembling thighs.
They laid there like that for a long moment, both breathing heavily and neither speaking. In truth, they never needed words. As much as they both claimed to loathe the other, there was always an understanding, a grudging respect that ribboned between them in a stitchwork of slapdash comradery. It had been that way since the very beginning.
Fishing a cigarette from his pocket, Spike placed it between his lips and lit it up with a warm, all-encompassing glow. As ribbons of smoke festooned from his nose, he took another drag before passing the cigarette to Faye.
"See?" he practically gloated. "The best resolutions come without talking."
Faye laughed then, a lightness in her chest as she brought the cigarette to her lips.
Perhaps she loved him, just a little.
A/N: Thanks to the formatting on this site, I couldn't give the final sentence I wanted (as I did on AO3). Originally, it was supposed to say, "She loved (stricken out) hated him, just a little," but alas, I can't strike out words on this site. So this was my only option.
With that said, I haven't written a Cowboy Bebop fic since the early 2000s. This was my very first fandom, and the only reason I opened a account in the first place, so I'm VERY excited to be dipping my toe back in. Writing this was like coming home. 💕 Since I was around 13 when I first wrote SxF fic, I can guarantee that it was flaming hot garbage, so please don't go looking for my earliest works, haha.
Anyway, I don't know if I'll write more (I'm still very much on my period drama/historical kick), but after rewatching CB a few weeks ago, this one-shot kept nagging at me until I finally succumbed. I also had an urge to write a multi-chap "Spike lives" AU, but it was like NONONO, everyone writes those, and you've already written several! But what's one more, right? lol I'm so happy that the show lived up to what I remembered as a kid, except bounds better. Spike is still my favorite, but I really felt for Faye and her pain during my rewatch. She's such a great character. But enough of my rambling - I hope you all enjoyed this quick one-shot! Comments/thoughts are appreciated! 💕