i seriously don't know how this got so dark, like Spike just got out of control. oh, and it's a BRAND NEW ficlet :)

He fucked Muriel once. It was the lousiest fuck of his life, he'd had one too many drinks and was only half hard by the time she gripped his cock and attempted to fuck herself with it. She was loud and screechy, and by the time the full sordid act was done with (entire six minutes and all) Spike's jacket was smeared with about a pound of heavy makeup, courtesy of fucking Muriel against a wall. Needless to say that he stopped frequenting the bar after that.

Spike was a man, albeit a very twisted man who dreamt in sepia and had kicked the bucket twice, but he was a man who had needs. With Julia it had been a religious experience, to a sinner like him it felt like rapture when she took him in her mouth, he would whimper and groan loving words and fake promises; heaven lay between her thighs, of this he was sure. She was sweet and angelic, all a demon of a man like him could ever hope for, she was tender and yielded to his whims, even if it meant certain death for herself. But then he was cast out of cloud nine and fell to Earth a broken, empty, shell of a man.

Julia and he had never been particularly faithful to each other, he was sure there had been other men during their separation, and he'd had plenty of women in between. Women whose names he never remembered, younger and older women, floozies with cheap perfume and fake hair, rich girls who wanted to take danger for a ride, and lonely, wrecked, women who even for a short time wanted to feel something other than the deep void that resided in themselves. Women just like him.

And then came she. The bitch of woman who both ruined and yet turned his life into real bliss. He was no longer the protagonist of his self-written tale of death and annihilation, he was a tangible man who felt every single fucking thing. She forced him to live in the present after his last swan dive into obliteration failed completely, he was angry in the beginning, livid at her for not letting a piece of shit like him die, but she persisted like a fucking tumor and would not let up no matter how bad he treated her. He was an evil man and she had proof of that, the first time they fucked had been something out of a horror movie.

She'd been in the kitchen one late night, unsuspecting and vulnerable and for some reason the sight of her in her little cotton shorts and thin shirt had him salivating like a starved animal. He waited until she stood from the kitchen table to pour herself some coffee to make his move, like a wolf he crept behind her; his arms shooting out to either side of her, trapping her against the counter he felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"Don't fucking move," he practically growled, she obeyed and Spike had never been harder in his life.

He moved a hand to her waist and slowly reached toward the apex of her thighs, she was trembling and her breath came out in panicked little huffs but when his fingers touched her center she was warm and damp, "What does your cunt taste like?" he asked while lewdly rolling his hips onto her backside, letting her feel what she did to him, she went rigid at the contact and stayed silent. He gave her thigh a sharp pinch and she whimpered, "What does your cunt taste like?"

"Paradise," she breathed.

That night he fucked her against the counter. He swallowed every sigh and moan with his mouth, he made her come so many times that by the end of it she was begging for him to stop, that night he left imprints of his fingers against her soft hips, he left her with his mark, she was forever his and Spike had always had a hard time letting go.

Faye could give as good as she got, some nights he would get on his knees and ask to be hurt, some nights he would bind and spank her ass raw, some nights she would leave bloody scratches along his back, and other nights he would take her in the warmth of her room with the lights turned on, trailing kisses along every inch of her body. He would touch her like she was made of glass and when he was inside her he would whisper words of adoration against her throat, against her lips.

"My dear, you are the one."

She would always laugh after he said those things.

Spike had been with many women before Faye, all kinds of women, old and new, sad and drunk, but she had been the only one to force her way into his very being, guns a blazing and spewed profanities from her red lips she'd somehow turned him into a real, living, breathing, man. She alone was a paradise he never wanted to be cast out of.