- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – First of several chapters
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Two
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Three
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Four
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Five
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Six
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Seven
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Eight
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Nine
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Ten
- Fic – Nocturnal Emissions – Chapter Eleven
Fic: Nocturnal Emissions
Author: Miss Murchison
Summary: Buffy thinks Spike has a problem. Spike thinks Buffy is jealous and needs a nap. As you can tell from the title, I have not been guilty of good taste.
This is an alternative Season 6 where there is no angst. Assume Buffy didn’t die at the end of Season 5, or, if she did, she was glad to get back. Don’t go looking for any huge problems among the canon characters. They’re not there, although all is not sweetness and light. Which is good, because we all know how bad light is for Spike.
Length of completed story: About 9,000 words
Thanks: To my wonderful betas, keswindhover and revdorothyl, to enigmaticblues for the comm, and to my family for leaving me alone long enough to finish this story. Maybe they’ll repeat the favor so I can finally enjoy the other entries from this round.
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.
Spike finally gave up trying to sleep through the noises downstairs, showered, dressed, and went to investigate. His worst fears were realized. The place was infested with Scoobies. The full contingent was huddled in conference around the dining room table: Giles, leafing through an ancient tome, Willow with her laptop open before her, Tara and Anya deep in discussion, and Xander, characteristically, scrounging in the kitchen. He hoped they were plotting the demise of some monster that only appeared in daylight so that he could get the sleep he’d been denied the night before. But, no, that hope died a rapid death as soon as Harris opened his mouth.
Xander passed by with a beer in one hand. “So, Spike, what’s it like to be molested by an invisible lady? Hey, it was a lady, right?”
Spike turned to Buffy, who was leaning over Giles’ shoulder. “Bloody hell, Slayer, I can’t believe you had to tell all your little friends.”
She didn’t even look up as she replied coldly, “At least my friends take paranormal menaces seriously.”
“‘Seriously’ is a bit of hyperbole, Buffy.” Giles looked up from his book. “I came because you sounded so distressed on the phone. But I’m afraid it really does sound like Spike wasn’t the only one dreaming last night.”
Anya nodded agreement. “And everyone else is just here to see if Buffy tells us any more about your sex life.”
“Lovely.” Spike glared at Buffy. “What you need, pet, is not this pack of voyeurs, but a good nap. You’ve got circles under your eyes. And I wouldn’t mind a bit of actual shut-eye either.”
“Go back to bed then. But I know there was something there.” Buffy had her hands on her hips and her jaw set.
“My subconscious got a little frisky, that’s all. Get over it, love. Oh, and don’t mention what we did with the whipped cream and peanut butter. Wouldn’t want to embarrass anyone.” Having gotten a bit of his own back, Spike abandoned the room full of annoyances.
He went into the living room to argue over custody of the clicker with Dawn, who said she wasn’t watching soccer and she didn’t want to know anything about his and Buffy’s sex life either.
“Deal,” he said, grabbed the clicker, and switched to the rugby.
She took it back, and turned on a band of androgynous boys who were singing in depressed tones and unintelligible accents.
“Hell, no,” he said, reaching for the remote again.
Eventually and inevitably, Dawn won the argument and settled down on the floor to watch Daria, while Spike sprawled on the couch and tried to ignore the discussion going on in the other room. After a few minutes Tara wandered in, which Spike took as a sure sign that the Scoobies had gone off on some tangent that tried even her patience. His eyelids fluttered as he watched the witch settle in an armchair and heard her ask a suddenly deaf Dawn about the status of some homework assignment or other…
He was lying on his back, his head turned to one side, sunlight playing over him as he waited for her to appear. She would reach the turn in the path in a moment, her form suddenly visible beneath the canopy of tree branches as she stepped towards him…
Instead, warm fingers covered his eyes, and a strange voice whispered in his ear. “Hello, William.”
“Who are you?”
“Call me Lily.”
He rolled over and took in her voluptuous figure, long dark hair, and eyes so dark they appeared black. “I’ll call you anything you like. But where’d you wander in from? You don’t belong in this dreamscape.” Still, he vaguely remembered seeing her before, and recently.
“Don’t I?” She leaned over him, kissing him first softly, then passionately, as her fingers worked their way down his chest. A moment later, her hand was down his pants, and she was expertly massaging his already half-roused cock to full hardness.
He laughed. “Changed my mind. You can stay.”
Suddenly he was naked, and so was Lily, and she was climbing astride him, her face avid with lust. Then she was guiding him inside her, her hand hot and dry, her pussy sizzling and wet. He felt her close around him and he tried to move his hips to thrust, but she put a finger over his lips.
“Sssh. Let me do all the work. This is my pleasure.”
“Mine too,” he wanted to say, but he still couldn’t move or speak, so he gazed up at her, feeling all that heat surrounding his cock, and…
…and he was landing face-first on the coffee table, feeling the wood splinter underneath him and hoping like hell that none of the shards pierced his chest.
That did it. The green-eyed bitch was taking jealousy too far. He sat up in the ruins of the table, checking himself over for damage, and feeling ready to have a good, solid set-to with his lady love, even if at some level he was still bone-tired. Maybe she’d beat him unconscious, and he could finally get some shut-eye.
He moved to a position on one knee, ready to jump and pounce as soon as he was awake enough to see his quarry. “Balls, Slayer–!” He stopped. Buffy was standing in the hall, staring at him with the gaze of a woman who had no idea what the bloody hell had just happened. He blinked at her. “Who pushed me?”
“I did.” Dawn was standing next to him, her face pale. Tara was behind her, hands on the girl’s shoulders. “I had to shove you off the couch before you’d wake up. You were–uh, you seemed kind of busy.”
“Damn it, Bit, you’re as bad as your sister.” He stood up shakily. “Could have just left the room if I was making you blush, couldn’t you? But, no, not a Summers woman. You had to push me into a bloody great pile of wood, didn’t you, just because I was having a bit of a naughty dream!”
“Spike, that wasn’t just a naughty dream,” said Tara, looking concerned… and very red in the cheeks. “That was a succubus.”
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/258038.html