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06 January 2008 @ 12:59 pm
Rec and Fic Meme  
My exceptionally talented friend only_passenger just posted a to die for Spuffy fic. I made a request some time ago for angsty, Spuffy DeSoto sex that included Buffy-on-Spike rimming and a shag with Spike wearing only his duster. She more than delivered. Beautifully written, with a compelling metaphor running throughout the story, Buffy's unexpected request at the end will leave you with your mouth hanging open. It's truly a wonderful character study of s6 Spuffy, and the desires and negotiations that we never saw Spike and Buffy undertake off screen. And it will melt your damn panties right off. Go read Riding the Clutch if you haven't already. 

Just for a bit of fun, I gakked this meme from eowyn_315 that asks you to post the first paragraph of the first fic, drabble, or chapter you posted each month in 2007. I didn't start writing fic until March of last year, so that's when the meme begins. Lets see if you can remember which fics these are!

March: The rhythms of her body were like a symphony to him, each pulsation and internal rush a carefully choreographed orchestration. She was slightly pale, her eyes ringed with darkened circles and shining with a barely suppressed pain. It was her monthlies, of course. Her thigh muscles quivered nearly imperceptibly, his attention drawn to the slight movement when Buffy placed her hand against her thigh to brace herself. The thrumming contractions of her body lulled him into a gentle ease as he soaked up the life she gave off in waves. 

April: Fucking was like fighting. Maybe that’s why she and Spike were so good at it. To thrust and parry, glide, dodge, and converge was familiar – comfortable even. They were made for it. The desire to draw first blood, to triumph over the weakness of their enemy compelled them both to clash again and again. However, when it was Spike that got the upper hand, the thrill of the game was quickly lost on Buffy.  

May: “Don’t think so, luv. You don’t get to call the shots here,” he growled and shoved her down onto the bed to straddle her waist, his hands sliding up her arms to pin them over her head. “So untried…” he murmured, sniffing at her hair and nuzzling her neck as she lay under him, paralyzed with fear and staring up at him with wide anxious eyes. 

June: The smell is what first shakes her from her horrified trance - burning, blistering flesh, incense, and the faint aroma of floor cleaner. She hears the soft mewls of pain and watches as his draped arms cling to the cross tighter, encircling it like a mother. She hears him mutter erratically to himself, the hushed whispers morphing into high, keening wails of pain as his skin singes. She rushes forward and grasps him around the waist, pulling him away from the cross, but he steadfastly clings to it; it is his anchor, his penance. 

July: It was gone. Just like that, a snap of her fingers, a few murmured Latin phrases, and the access he had to her home was gone. She hadn’t revoked his invitation after their confrontation with Angelus, or even after he came at her with the shotgun earlier that year. But when he confessed his love for her, she had, the bloody bitch. 

August: The room buzzes with kinetic energy, vibrations conducting through the floor, jumping from body to body so that his chest pounds like he still has a pulse. It’s warm, sweltering, stifling with human heat and the stink of sweat and pheromones that pour off the writhing bodies. She’s something else though, in a league all her own. Dancing to a torturous beat at breakneck speed, her hips a bumping blur, her ass outlined tight against the leather of her pants. Tits jounce along with the music, moves cut the air with fierce precision. 

September: “I can carry all of them, you know,” Buffy said, as Spike ascended the stairs in front of her with six grocery bags in hand. He listed slightly to one side, the O.J. and milk weighing him down. 

October: Cool red satin slides against his palms, the buttery fabric pooling like blood in his black denim lap. The sickness inside her has dissipated, and her wiry arms once again belie the unbelievable strength she has. She arches up, her knees spread wide on either side of his hips, an open invitation to take the strength and health that he doggedly chased down for her. It’s tempting, and he can deny her nothing. He rucks the negligee up over the curve of her ass, holding it firm at the small of her back. 

November: The house was silent. Had been silent for some time, excluding the days when Dawn went from one room to another, slamming doors and howling. Those were far and few between now. 

December: No fics. Too busy writing final papers =(

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Swayxheartrockx on January 6th, 2008 06:54 pm (UTC)
Oh I loved "Riding the Clutch". I actually had to take a cold shower after I read it this morning.

And if I'm not mistaken, the September one is "Spectator Sport". Now that was a story best not forgotten *fans air*
ClawofCat: freepornclawofcat on January 6th, 2008 09:30 pm (UTC)
Bingo! September was "A Spectator Sport." Ah, I love that fic. only_passenger and I should just make requests of each other from now on. I feel like those are often the best ones. It seems we totally get each other and our readers' motors running. Makes me want to go and work on this porntastic spuffy fic that's been sitting around untouched on my hard drive.

*scampers off to cook up porn*
Swayxheartrockx on January 6th, 2008 09:34 pm (UTC)
It was a pretty raunchy ride, yeah. But that's what we love, right? And you both manage to give the porn some plot as well. Not that I mind PWP but sometimes, it's ever better when it does have an actual plotline somewhere.

Looking forward to that porn. :D
Shapinglightshapinglight on January 6th, 2008 08:01 pm (UTC)
It's a terrific story. I just read it.
ClawofCat: thesparkclawofcat on January 6th, 2008 09:32 pm (UTC)
It is. Pass and I should just make requests of each other. I feel like some of our best work was written for one another. I always feel so inspired by her prompts.
eowyn_315: Thinky James 2eowyn_315 on January 6th, 2008 11:27 pm (UTC)
Haha, this feels like cheating... I'm obviously a little fuzzy before I started betaing...

March: Heart of Her
April: ?
May: Surrender?
June: Beneath Us
July: Drive It Home? I don't actually remember it starting this way, but that's the only Crush-related fic I know
August: Window Dressing
September: Spectator Sport
October: Working Parts
November: Tea for Two

No one's tried to guess mine. :(
ClawofCatclawofcat on January 6th, 2008 11:39 pm (UTC)
April is "Show Me How." I think it's the weakest beginning of those listed, actually. Fucking hate that fic.... Ya, May is Surrender and July is Drive it Home. Pretty sure I changed the beginning once or twice when I was working it through the various drafts. As for the rest, you totally have insider information.

I'll give yours a go, but I've read far more of your more recent stuff.
Kitchenjdkitchen on January 7th, 2008 05:47 pm (UTC)
Are you kidding? "Fucking is like fighting" is the best opening line of anything, ever.
ClawofCat: got ecstasyclawofcat on January 7th, 2008 10:13 pm (UTC)
lol, I suppose it packs a certain punch. And I know you really like that fic. It was just something that I really wasn't prepared to write, and did it mostly to appease my readership. It never sang to me like the others did.

Working on more Clocks? I've been piddling with a few different things, mostly with Faith. She's become my new favorite character. Getting closer to finishing up a post-NFA Angel/Faith. Huzzah!
Kitchenjdkitchen on January 7th, 2008 10:32 pm (UTC)
Yeah, I think that's my fav. Appease away, toots.

I just posted another chap. That's, like, three in two weeks, which is some kind of record for me. So I guess you can say I'm really "punching the clock" these days.

(cue rim shot)
(no, not that kind...)