Title: What Happens in Canada (3/4)
Word count: 1200
Rating: Mature for language, themes, and science
Setting: Unspecified post-series future wherein Slayers and other supernatural things are known to at least some of the public, and Buffy and Spike are a couple.
Summary: For the good of her sister Slayers, Buffy participates in a study (in Canada). She’s a giver.
Previously on “What Happens in Canada”: Buffy began taking part in a Slayer Sexual Response Study in Toronto. So far, she’s had to do some paperwork, pick out the ideal-sized not-dildo, and get wired up and look at a bunch of pictures, rating them on a 3-point scale. Red is ‘sexually NOT appealing’, yellow is ‘not sexually UNappealing’, and green is ‘sexually appealing’. Now she’s supposed to rate movies and it’s still the first day!
Back to finding the baseline. Buffy sighed.
The TV flickered back on. It showed a nature film about apes. Bonobos, Buffy thought, but she wasn’t sure. There was no sound and no subtitles. The apes were very active and… friendly. Males with females, females with females, males with males. They all seemed pretty happy, if Buffy was any judge. But it was all so perfunctory. Buffy knew from experience that a quickie could be very nice. Bracing, even. But nothing but quickies for eternity seemed awfully depressing. When it ended she pressed the yellow button.
The next clip was of humans. A man and a woman having sex in what Buffy called the “elevated missionary’ position. Man on top, but holding himself up enough for the camera to get a clear shot of the action. Three minutes of the old in-out, in-out and Buffy was ready for something else. Yellow.
It took her a moment to switch gears for the next one. There were bodies, very toned bodies, moving in a way that didn’t synch up. It wasn’t until she saw the padded gloves that she realized that she was watching a bout of a mixed martial arts competition. They were pretty good. Fast. Shiny with sweat and straining for the advantage. The clip cut off just as the two men finished a flurry of quick body blows and kicks, and had both tumbled to the mat. Buffy wanted to know what happened next. She hit the green.
There was a standard “lesbian” porno next. It was ridiculous and bouncy, but it was better than the boring het film. Then came a fairly hot guy-on-guy blow job clip. Green and green. The clip with the fake vampire nibbling his way up the arm of a swooning maiden was ultra annoying. But when he reached her neck, he sank his teeth in with an expression of such ecstasy that she ended up hitting the green button after all.
There were lots more. When the screen finally went blank, Buffy’s head was spinning and she wanted out of the chair. Anita came in and efficiently removed the finger clip and the EKG pads and unplugged all the cords.
“You can remove the internal gauges in the other room, where you left your street clothes. Just leave them on the tray. The lavatory is right next door. You’re free to go. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Buffy mumbled out a thanks and holding the ends of the cords in her fist, she went to change.
When she walked into the hotel room, Spike was just coming out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped around his hips, while he vigorously rubbed at his wet hair with another.
She slumped against the door and took in the view. It was hard to decide if it was relaxing to be here alone with him, or if she was now even more keyed up. Freshly showered, messy-headed vampire was definitely one of her green buttons.
He looked up and smiled, settling the hair towel around his shoulders. Sadist.
“How’d it go, pet? Tell ol’ Spike all about it.”
He sat on the bed, patted his knee, and held his arms open to her. He was running his tongue along his teeth, looking absolutely delighted with himself.
She dropped her bag and launched herself at him, knocking him onto his back and holding his wrists down beside his head.
“I spent half the day looking at pictures of stuff,” she complained. “With sensors stuck all over me. It made me feel all… weird and hot…”
“You’re alway hot, love.”
“…and confused and unsatisfied!”
“Not sure I can clear up the weirdness and confusion, but I know I can help you with that last one.”
He wiggled his hips under her. It made her want to slap him. In a “consenting adults” way, though, and they hadn’t really set the scene for that. Instead, she ground down onto him and held his wrists tighter. His mouth popped open into a little “O”. Not smirking anymore, are you, vampire? she thought.
“Yes,” she hissed into his ear. “You will help me to relax. Won’t you, vampire?” She gave his wrists an extra squeeze.
“Oh, yeah,” he breathed, pupils blown.
“Ahem,” she prompted, sitting up. He blinked up at her, then smiled.
“I mean… Yes, mistress.”
Buffy hummed, her arms flung wide. She had a rumpled sheet pulled over her breasts, and she was petting the surface of the bed. Good hotel sheets are the best, she thought. And they’ll be fresh again tomorrow.
Spike came out of the bathroom and handed her a glass of water. His hair was slicked back. She pouted at that, and realized that she was the one with messy hair now. Yay.
“You want to go out and get some dinner, pet?”
“Mmm. I was thinking maybe room service tonight. It’s on the Council tab, after all. I’m not sure my conversation would be restaurant ready, anyway.”
He cocked an eyebrow at that, but grabbed the room service menu and settled beside her on the bed. They looked it over and ordered a couple of steaks with all the trimmings. Buffy got cleaned up and Spike straightened the room while they waited for the food.
When it got there, the room service waiter did a quaintly elaborate set up ritual, with lots of cloth napkins being snapped into place and items lovingly arranged. When it looked like he was going to start on round two with the wine, Buffy tipped him handsomely and ushered him out.
“What’s on your mind, Slayer?” asked Spike, uncorking the bottle without any fuss. “I’d say I hope it’s naughty, but suppose that goes without saying after the day you’ve had.” She nodded at him as he sat down across from her.
She inhaled the fragrances coming from her plate, eyes closed. She cut into the steak, and watched as the juices flowed out. She took a bite and her teeth sank into soft, succulent flesh. She swallowed. Delicious.
She took a deep breath.
“It’s confusing because of stuff like this.” She pointed at her plate with her knife.
“Don’t follow you.”
“Well, they showed me all kinds of stuff: seashells, windmills, monkeys, monsters, naked people. Totally random. I’m supposed to tell them which stuff I find sexy, right? It’s all stream of consciousness-y.” She waved her fork around by her head before plunging it into the steak again. “And after a while, I don’t know, I just react. So olive oil comes up green — that means sexy, by the way — and octopuses, and cigarette smoke, and I don’t even know what all. And now I’m looking at this steak and wondering if it’s sexy or not.”
Spike chuckled. “You’re the one showing me the dirty pictures, Doc,” he said.
“Right. Like Rorschach. Exactly!”
“That’s very interesting, pet. Tell me more about this cigarette-smoking octopus slathered in olive oil, why don’t you?”
She threw a roll at him, which he caught in his teeth, eyebrows waggling.
It was a fun night in.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/574279.html