![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chickenAuthor: Carole (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chicken_cem)
Betas: Bunnybunnyohare and Karen (lord_ubar)
Requested by: MER (startiller)
Preferred rating and genre (ie NC-17, H/C, schmoop, angst, etc): NC-17
Preferred pairing: Spike/Andrew
Second pairing choice (just in case your first one can't be done): Spike/Andrew/Xander
Cole Porter lyrics used for inspiration:
I was a humdrum person
Leading a life apart
When love flew in through my window wide
And quickened my humdrum heart
Love flew in through my window
I was so happy then
But after love had stayed a little while
Love flew out again
What is this thing called Love?
This funny thing called Love?
Just who can solve its mystery?
Why should it make a fool of me?
I saw you there one wonderful day
You took my heart and threw it away
That's why I ask the Lord in Heaven above
What is this thing called Love?
What is this thing called Love?
This funny thing called Love?
Just who can solve its mystery?
Why should it make a fool of me?
I saw you there one wonderful day
You took my heart and threw it away
That's why I ask the Lord in Heaven above
What is this thing called Love?
Certain individuals are destined to lead a very dull, nay a boring, one might even say a humdrum existence, a life devoid of adventure, bare of love, empty of excitement. Such was the life that your humble narrator truly seemed destined to lead forever, a mere side character in that great adventure we call -- Love. A soldier whose soul was never to be touched by the flame of love, whose body was never to know the manly embrace of more experienced arms, whose body would never be plundered on that great battlefield we call Courtship.
But then a certain wonderful day dawned, dear viewer, and such a marvelous day it was. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and lo and behold, under yon shady awning stood a lone figure, a tall, handsome, pale fellow, full of swagger and strength, a man I like to call 'Spike, Vampyre of Vampyres.' He who is that rare creature, a creature of the night who yet conspires to rid the world of his own kind, who verily slays many a bloodsucker in the noble fight against Eeevil.
This, my gentle viewers, is only the rarest of creatures, the finest of men, a vampyre who, while technically dead, yet vibrates with life, his muscles strong, his lips full, his very trousers straining to burst asunder from the mighty pressure within.
And upon which humble, undeserving person should his gaze fall this day? Why, upon my very own self, my small yet eager form. Lo, did he leer, and whoa, did he wink, and fancy that, my gosh, my heavens, where did his masterful hand come to rest, as I, your humble narrator, shimmied over to stand in his presence? Why yes, you've guessed it -- his very skilled hand came to rest just here, upon my very own besotted backside, pinching and squeezing just so, en-flaming my very soul with ministrations both harsh and gentle, drawing back and coming down with a smack, pulling me forward until my quite bulging buccaneer should find itself quite cozy caressing his own cock, both straining to be free of their respective cottony confines, driven by dirty desire.
(My word, how alliteration can tire a lusty poet's otherwise fevered frenzy!)
Heedless of possible passersby, our Vampyre then did begin to besiege my belt buckle -- for indeed I was not belt-less -- and also did he besiege his own, in a fierce attempt to free us. Forsooth, I felt my fragile knees pressed firmly against the fresh turf, my heart full of love as my backside endured a further festoon of firm and feathery floggings each in turn.
Certain fluids, certain fine preparations and finessing fingers caressed my crease, and then after a spell his magnificent member met my magic non-alliterative ass, whose eager opening knew no poetry but the savage, glorious carnal cravings of his cunningly capable cock.
Although a Vampyre is only room temperature, his recently bygone imbibing of certain red liquids and his enthusiastic frictions can ensure that one such as myself need not suffer an icy touch, but will rather enjoy a sensory magnificence.
And so we continued, he with ever more vigor, sliding in and out of my tight, untested entrance, I squealing ever more loudly, my protestations of love and ardour ringing off the nearby buildings.
"Spike!!" I insisted, my cock sliding through his fingers, my muscles clenching around him. "OH, my love! My hero, my special Vampyre -- my end, it is nigh --" He truly was the most magnificent Vampyre amongst all the Vampyres!
"What the bloody hell are you going on about?"
Surely my poetic protestations fell not upon the deaf, indifferent ears of a mere man, a wimp-pire taking only the most whimsical of fleeting pleasures? Surely he, too, felt our unprecedented connection? Surely? -- But no, my full heart emptied dispiritedly as our bodies emptied themselves, our now meaningless seed sown upon an uncaring earth. Brutally he removed himself from betwixt my wee buttocks, and quickly did he strut away into the deeper shadows, fleeing my despair and the advancing sun.
As quickly as my love blossomed, so did it depart, fluttering away on his magnificent but deceptive coattails. And then I spied him, solitary and disdainful, smoking a lonely cigarette, far away against a wall, and acrid was the smell of it, wafting toward my disappointed nostrils which never the sharing of it would know. Quite finished, he threw the butt away upon the ground and stamped it out as casually as he had my love for him.
And I -- still down on hands and knees, bare-assed for all the world to see -- I cried aloud then, in anguish.
"Oh, fool, I, that love misguided has but rendered piteous and weak! Alas! --"
"For crying out loud, Andrew, would you knock it off? Your cliche-ridden pseudo-poetic, melodramatic tripe doesn't fool anyone. You still love that damn vampire, and everyone knows it. You worship the ground he swaggers on!"Xander burst into the bathroom, knocked the camera from Andrew's hands, and wiped the surprise and embarrassment from the young face with a smooth, practiced kiss, full on the lips. (If only!)
"Of course he never loved you, you silly geeky little man."
Andrew pouted and swatted at Xander. "Is this the part where you tell me that even though Spike doesn't love me, you love me, and you're my knight in shining armor come to save me from the clutches of the evil Vampyre?" Hope bloomed in his eyes.
"Andrew, wait. Hold your gay horses!" Xander hit the rewind button on the video camera. "I don't love you. I don't even like you. Just because we both like comics and Captain Archer doesn't mean I have feelings for you. Although I admit I'd be more likely to grope you than Spike would."
"Really?" Andrew put down the camera and licked his lips. "Like, now?"
Xander smirked and muttered, "oh, what the hell." His hands moved down Andrew's chest to the unsurprising erection hiding ineffectually in his jeans, and gave it a good, long grope.
chicken_cem)Betas: Bunny
bunnyohare and Karen (lord_ubar)Requested by: MER (
startiller)Preferred rating and genre (ie NC-17, H/C, schmoop, angst, etc): NC-17
Preferred pairing: Spike/Andrew
Second pairing choice (just in case your first one can't be done): Spike/Andrew/Xander
Cole Porter lyrics used for inspiration:
I was a humdrum person
Leading a life apart
When love flew in through my window wide
And quickened my humdrum heart
Love flew in through my window
I was so happy then
But after love had stayed a little while
Love flew out again
What is this thing called Love?
This funny thing called Love?
Just who can solve its mystery?
Why should it make a fool of me?
I saw you there one wonderful day
You took my heart and threw it away
That's why I ask the Lord in Heaven above
What is this thing called Love?
What is this thing called Love?
This funny thing called Love?
Just who can solve its mystery?
Why should it make a fool of me?
I saw you there one wonderful day
You took my heart and threw it away
That's why I ask the Lord in Heaven above
What is this thing called Love?
Certain individuals are destined to lead a very dull, nay a boring, one might even say a humdrum existence, a life devoid of adventure, bare of love, empty of excitement. Such was the life that your humble narrator truly seemed destined to lead forever, a mere side character in that great adventure we call -- Love. A soldier whose soul was never to be touched by the flame of love, whose body was never to know the manly embrace of more experienced arms, whose body would never be plundered on that great battlefield we call Courtship.
But then a certain wonderful day dawned, dear viewer, and such a marvelous day it was. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and lo and behold, under yon shady awning stood a lone figure, a tall, handsome, pale fellow, full of swagger and strength, a man I like to call 'Spike, Vampyre of Vampyres.' He who is that rare creature, a creature of the night who yet conspires to rid the world of his own kind, who verily slays many a bloodsucker in the noble fight against Eeevil.
This, my gentle viewers, is only the rarest of creatures, the finest of men, a vampyre who, while technically dead, yet vibrates with life, his muscles strong, his lips full, his very trousers straining to burst asunder from the mighty pressure within.
And upon which humble, undeserving person should his gaze fall this day? Why, upon my very own self, my small yet eager form. Lo, did he leer, and whoa, did he wink, and fancy that, my gosh, my heavens, where did his masterful hand come to rest, as I, your humble narrator, shimmied over to stand in his presence? Why yes, you've guessed it -- his very skilled hand came to rest just here, upon my very own besotted backside, pinching and squeezing just so, en-flaming my very soul with ministrations both harsh and gentle, drawing back and coming down with a smack, pulling me forward until my quite bulging buccaneer should find itself quite cozy caressing his own cock, both straining to be free of their respective cottony confines, driven by dirty desire.
(My word, how alliteration can tire a lusty poet's otherwise fevered frenzy!)
Heedless of possible passersby, our Vampyre then did begin to besiege my belt buckle -- for indeed I was not belt-less -- and also did he besiege his own, in a fierce attempt to free us. Forsooth, I felt my fragile knees pressed firmly against the fresh turf, my heart full of love as my backside endured a further festoon of firm and feathery floggings each in turn.
Certain fluids, certain fine preparations and finessing fingers caressed my crease, and then after a spell his magnificent member met my magic non-alliterative ass, whose eager opening knew no poetry but the savage, glorious carnal cravings of his cunningly capable cock.
Although a Vampyre is only room temperature, his recently bygone imbibing of certain red liquids and his enthusiastic frictions can ensure that one such as myself need not suffer an icy touch, but will rather enjoy a sensory magnificence.
And so we continued, he with ever more vigor, sliding in and out of my tight, untested entrance, I squealing ever more loudly, my protestations of love and ardour ringing off the nearby buildings.
"Spike!!" I insisted, my cock sliding through his fingers, my muscles clenching around him. "OH, my love! My hero, my special Vampyre -- my end, it is nigh --" He truly was the most magnificent Vampyre amongst all the Vampyres!
"What the bloody hell are you going on about?"
Surely my poetic protestations fell not upon the deaf, indifferent ears of a mere man, a wimp-pire taking only the most whimsical of fleeting pleasures? Surely he, too, felt our unprecedented connection? Surely? -- But no, my full heart emptied dispiritedly as our bodies emptied themselves, our now meaningless seed sown upon an uncaring earth. Brutally he removed himself from betwixt my wee buttocks, and quickly did he strut away into the deeper shadows, fleeing my despair and the advancing sun.
As quickly as my love blossomed, so did it depart, fluttering away on his magnificent but deceptive coattails. And then I spied him, solitary and disdainful, smoking a lonely cigarette, far away against a wall, and acrid was the smell of it, wafting toward my disappointed nostrils which never the sharing of it would know. Quite finished, he threw the butt away upon the ground and stamped it out as casually as he had my love for him.
And I -- still down on hands and knees, bare-assed for all the world to see -- I cried aloud then, in anguish.
"Oh, fool, I, that love misguided has but rendered piteous and weak! Alas! --"
"For crying out loud, Andrew, would you knock it off? Your cliche-ridden pseudo-poetic, melodramatic tripe doesn't fool anyone. You still love that damn vampire, and everyone knows it. You worship the ground he swaggers on!"
"Of course he never loved you, you silly geeky little man."
Andrew pouted and swatted at Xander. "Is this the part where you tell me that even though Spike doesn't love me, you love me, and you're my knight in shining armor come to save me from the clutches of the evil Vampyre?" Hope bloomed in his eyes.
"Andrew, wait. Hold your gay horses!" Xander hit the rewind button on the video camera. "I don't love you. I don't even like you. Just because we both like comics and Captain Archer doesn't mean I have feelings for you. Although I admit I'd be more likely to grope you than Spike would."
"Really?" Andrew put down the camera and licked his lips. "Like, now?"
Xander smirked and muttered, "oh, what the hell." His hands moved down Andrew's chest to the unsurprising erection hiding ineffectually in his jeans, and gave it a good, long grope.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-25 03:42 pm (UTC)