Aww! Dana had me at

Buffy rose into sight from her crouch by the oven. "Martha Stewart? A way bigger liar than her mild-mannered appearance would suggest."

"Yes, well, that would explain her recent troubles with the government."

Plei, I just wrote Buffy/Wes. Did I mention how this is your fault?

Lalala.

Fault? There's fault here?

I see no fault.

Dana is a stone killer.

Fault and glorious fault. Whee! They really are a OTP, both dark and light, aren't they?

Dana, more please.

More, quickly.

Dana is a goddess, but we knew that. And I'm so happy to have ita writing and posting again - such a joy.

Here's my flashfic story - 1000 words. It's supposed to be h/c, does this count?

Pairing - S/X
Written for hils

Author Notes - This takes place during the episode 'Spiral'. Xander's first lines and the final dialogue exchange are taken directly from the episode. I like to think that the scene that I've written between those lines was filmed, but got cut for time.

Having a Real Good Day

I thought it hurt when Glory poked a finger into my chest and dug around, but that's nothing compared to the pain of watching Buffy fawn all over young Doctor Ben. I steal a sodding recreational vehicle for her, prevent her getting pithed, get my hands sliced to ribbons - and the most she'll do is toss me orders like they were bones. I'm not going to take this - I may be Love's Bitch, but I've never been its lapdog.

Keep the pressure on Dawn said to me when she was bandaging my hands, and I answered her true when I said that I always did. But we're in a shack, surrounded by the Renaissance Faire, my bally lighter won't strike, and the pressure is too much. So when Harris closes the door on triage and grabs my lighter, I decide to have myself some fun. The boy cups his hands around the flame; I look up, thank him, and cover his hands with mine. I dip my head to light my smoke, letting my fingers linger on his wrists as he pulls away - he pockets my lighter, and isn't that interesting - and I can sense his confusion even as I damn the cloth that keeps me from feeling his warm skin.

"You know, those things will kill you."

Stupid quip - he's off balance. Good, I like him like that. So I look up at him from under my lashes, let my gaze erode his composure a little more, until he flushes and mutters "Oh, right." before looking away.

"Lots of things can kill you, might as well enjoy them while they do it." I stand and toss my cigarette as I speak; I'm a tad too close to him. I can hear his pulse jumping. "You're in a dark room, alone with a vampire and an unconscious Templar. No one to stop me when I sink deep into your pretty white skin." I lean closer to him with each word, until my lips graze his throat with each plosive. The sweat that sheens his skin is not from fear.

"You can't bite me."

"Wasn't thinking of biting you." I taste his ear before I tilt my head back, pushing my hips against his. "Not unless you ask me real nice."

His eyes glitter in the dark of the room and the blood rushing to his head makes both of us dizzy. I forget about the others and lose myself in his wide-eyed startlement. He strains away from me as I move in; the new angle increases the pressure on my groin. My moan is muffled in his gasp when our lips meet in lust and a surprisingly sweet tangle of tongues.

I'm concentrating on his mouth, on the click of teeth and the spit slicked curve of lips, but we're wearing entirely too many clothes. I'm trying to remedy the problem when pain shoots up my arm.

"Bugger." I look down to see my wayward hand pressed up against Xander's cock, bandage hopelessly tangled in his zipper. Fiddling with the pull brings another twinge, and a groan from the boy.

He looks down, pulls in a deep breath, raises passion-drugged eyes and licks at his wet, red mouth with a nervous and wanton tongue. "Hands in new places." he whispers as he reaches, disengaging the bandage, sliding down his zipper, pushing at his jeans until they catch on his hip bones and he stops with a shudder. And I know that he's recalling who he's with and what he's doing and all the reasons why he shouldn't be doing this and doing me and all of a sudden it's vitally important that he knows all of this and still chooses to do it. That he knows it's me doing this to him. No. With him.

I step back a pace and let the night air cool him. He looks at me, uncertain and frightened, I drop to my knees in front of him, looking up at his hungry young face, and lick my lips. He sucks in a deep breath and looks away. It's the crisis point - I'm trying to decide if nuzzling will push him over the edge when he lets out a sigh of utter, abject surrender and nudges his waistband until the denim pools around his feet.

I give in to impulse and rub my face along the soft, heated cotton of his pants, nibbling at the ridges of his penis through the cloth, reveling in the hardness and the heat.

I'd curse my useless hands were it not for the treat of his gasping surprise when I pull at the elastic waist with my teeth, tugging it over the length of his erection and lower, until it dips beneath his testicles and I release it with a snap that sends a ripple of pain through my head and a jolt through his body. I continue to rub against him; breathing in the aroma of blood and lust and life.

His hands grab my head, fingers twisting into my hair, he's moaning with need when I slip my mouth around his cock and swallow him deep. He bucks, once, twice, and I'm glad that I don't need to breathe and can savour each thrust.

The moans are louder than before. I think that we realise simultaneously that the noise is coming from across the room. His cock slides from my mouth with a slurp when I turn to see General Forehead waking up. By the time I turn back Xander has already zipped up and is nervously smoothing his hair.

I stand up, dust off my knees, and lean up against the table next to Xander. We maintain a proper manly distance and stare at the trussed man while he moans and stirs.

"Have I mentioned today how much I don't like you?" His smile is rueful.

"Might have let it slip in." We exchange sly, sidelong glances. "Once or twice."

Here's mine: Possibilities. Tara/Anya, Season Four.

And Dana, that was fantastic.

Spike/Xander! Spike/Xander! Whee!!! By Elena!!!

Damn this incoherence.

heheheheheh.

I'm not participating in the 1000-word thing, but damn, am I enjoying reading everyone's?

Oh yes.