That Thing by NautiBitz
CHAPTER ONE: "That Thing He Does"
Summary: Post-'Wrecked', Buffy is trying to think un-Spike-like thoughts when a certain obscene phone caller foils her plan.
Timeline: Season 6, after 'Wrecked' and before 'Gone'.
Originally Published/Completed: December 2001/January 2002
Stats: 3 chapters | 4,867 words | Buffy the Vampire Slayer | Spike/Buffy | NC-17/M (not for kids)
Genres: Smut, Romance, Comedy
Awards Won: "Best PWP" and "Best Comedy/Fluff" from Love's Last Glimpse Awards, "Best Phone Sex" from the Natural Born Killers In Love Awards, and more.
Author's Note: This was supposed to just be a standalone. But then this thing happened...
Chapter summary: Post-'Wrecked', Buffy is trying to think un-Spike-like thoughts when a certain obscene phone caller foils her plan.
Buffy stared into the dishwasher, trying to remember what she'd been doing.
Besides thinking about not thinking about Spike.
Right. Of course. Dishes. "Dawn? Will you bring me the dirty dishes?"
"'Kay," Dawn answered from the living room.
Detergent, Buffy told herself. Need detergent. She looked under the sink. What was I... oh yeah, detergent.
"Here ya go." Dawn entered the kitchen, carrying a few glasses and plates with the hand that wasn't hanging from a sling.
"Oh god, I forgot about your arm!" Buffy quickly commandeered the dishes and dropped them into place. "I'm sorry, Dawnie... I've been such a space case lately."
"It's no big, I'm still functional," the younger Summers insisted with a shrug. "I think that's why they give you two arms. Instead of just the one."
"Still—" The phone rang, making Buffy jump.
Dawn said, "Who could that be?"
Buffy rushed to answer it, imagining the horrors that could warrant a midnight call. "Hello?"
"I'm trying to understand..." a deep, familiar voice started, "that thing you do with your tongue."
Buffy gasped. And hung up the phone.
"Who was it?" Dawn closed the dishwasher and pressed a button.
"No one!" Buffy chirped, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Wrong number."
The phone rang again.
"I'll get it," Dawn offered.
"No!" Buffy blocked her way. "Just ignore it. It'll go away." She hoped.
It didn't.
They stood there, waiting, listening to it ring.
And ring.
And ring.
"This is stupid!" Dawn finally cried. "Just tell 'em it's a wrong number and they'll stop calling!"
Buffy sighed and snatched up the receiver, making sure to turn away from her sister. "What?"
"Now, now, pet. It's just a little question. Your tongue. And that thing you did with it—"
"You've got the wrong number," she tersed, and hung up, heart racing.
"See?" Dawn said. "Was that so hard?"
Buffy's eyes widened. So hard.
And it rang again.
"Wow, really not gettin' the message, are they?" Dawn noticed, preparing to answer the phone herself.
Buffy intercepted, grabbed the phone and said into the mouthpiece, "Stop. Calling. Now."
"I'm callin' back in five minutes," he said casually. "You better be ready for me."
"What is wrong with you?" Buffy hissed, and peeked at her sister, whose forehead was scrunched in puzzlement. "...Sir?"
"Be ready," he said, and hung up.
Buffy slammed the phone down, glared at it for a moment, then yanked the entire thing out of the wall.
Dawn looked down at the mess. "Wow. Um, Buffy, I think maybe I should answer the phone from now on."
"No! Don't. Not tonight."
Thoroughly confused now, Dawn said, "Wha-huh?"
"Obscene," Buffy came up with. "Very obscene phone caller." Not a lie, after all.
"Oh! So that's why you're mad. What did he say?"
"Nothing. He was... nothing." She stepped over the broken phone. "I'll fix this tomorrow."
"Where are you going?"
"Just upstairs. I've got... in my room—" Buffy cleared her head. "I'm gonna go to bed. You should too. But whatever you do, don't answer the phone."
"Okay," Dawn conceded worriedly. "I won't."
As soon as Buffy sat down, the phone rang again. She swiftly brought it to her ear. "Spike! Why are you doing this to me?"
"Why'd you answer the phone again?"
It was a valid point. "Because I... because I wanted to yell at you!"
"And why are you in your room, waitin' for my call?"
"How..." She peered out the window. "How do you know I'm in my room?"
"Just a guess, pet."
"Where are you?"
"My place."
"And why do you have a phone?"
"Cell phone. Found it. Now," he continued, "Back to what I was asking before..."
"You really expect me to believe you just found a phone lying around on the—"
"Fine, I stole it. Now take off your clothes."
Buffy's brow rose. "Excuse me?"
"I said, take off your clothes."
"No!"
"Look, I'm not gonna be the only one naked here."
"And I'm not gonna," Buffy lowered her voice, "have phone-sex with you!"
"How 'bout just the bottoms, then."
"Oh, right. I won't have phone sex with you, but I'll take off my pants. You're deranged." But then she noticed that her hands were moving of their own accord, and somehow her pants were sliding off her legs. She frowned and kicked them off the bed.
"Now the top," he said.
"Are you watching me?"
"No," he said with a chuckle. "But now I know you did it."
She said, "I am NOT doing this."
"Oh, you are. You're unbuttoning your shirt right now, aren't you?"
She was shocked to find that she was doing that very thing. What's wrong with me? "No," she said defiantly.
"Which bra are you wearing? The lacey black one?"
"No, it's..." She stopped herself. "I'm not playing this game with you!"
"Pink? The pink one? I like that one."
She noticed that he was breathing. Audibly. "What are you... Are you...?"
"Yes I am, and thanks for asking. You should be too."
She lay back on her pillow, listening to him breathe, belabored and slow. "I told you no," she said, her tone suddenly laced with promise.
"Mm. Lucky I've learnt that 'no' means... something other than 'no' when it comes from you."
"Hey!" She'd meant it to sound authoritative, but it came out... coy.
"Now, about that bra..."
She glanced down. "White. Plain. Not very sexy."
"All your knickers are sexy."
"Believe me, this one—"
"Take it off," he interrupted.
"I'm not taking orders from you," Buffy claimed as she sat up to unhook and free the article in question.
"I'll interpret that as, 'I did as you said, and I'm ready for further instruction'."
She scoffed. "You are the most presumptuous..."
"Where are your hands right now?"
"What?" Her hands froze.
"Tell me."
"No!"
"On your stomach?"
"No," she whispered.
"On your ears?"
She snorted. "No."
His voice lowered. "Where then?"
"On my..." She felt her face flush as she tried to answer. "On my um..."
This fic gets explict here, so I've removed the rest of it from this site. Go to the link in my profile to see the full story at a site that doesn't censor of perfectly legal fiction.
