TITLE: Temporary Insanity
CONTENT: m/f sexual activity (Spike/Joyce)
SYNOPSIS: Joyce has a thing. Spike has a thing. So maybe they have a thing together...
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. They belong to Joss, but he does boring things with them, so I took over.
NOTE: I cannot, CANNOT, believe that I actually wrote this. I have no excuse. I can't even blame anyone but myself this time. <sigh> How far the mighty have fallen. :-> I still don't like Joyce much. Really. And yet again, my wall fetish comes into play.
DEDICATED: To my Evil Twin, who had this to say on the topic: "I can't believe you made me sit through that. The things we do for the ones we love."
She was a sick, sick woman.
Furtively, Joyce Summers watched the object of her affections from her hiding spot. The aptly named 'Scooby Gang' was gathered in her living room, watching videos and snacking on a wide variety of junk food. She would have ignored them, as she usually did, but this time *he* was there.
Purposefully annoying, he was trying desperately to get a rise out of Angel, but the dark haired vampire was ignoring him, instead focusing on his lover, her own daughter. Buffy was laughing, safely enveloped in Angel's embrace.
Joyce swallowed hard. He was just a baby, she reminded herself. He was Buffy's friend.
She was a dirty old woman.
She couldn't want him. There was no way. It just couldn't happen. It was wrong, all wrong. Okay, so he was definitely no innocent, but he was Buffy's friend. A strange friend, but one nonetheless. She had no right having these kinds of feelings about him.
Even if he was in reality hundreds of years older than she was.
No right at all.
It was one of the oldest stories in the book, mother and daughter stalking father and son in the matrimonial hunting game. But in a twist of the Hellmouth, this time it was her daughter in love with the elder, while Joyce found herself attracted to the prodigal son.
Dear sweet lord.
She wanted Spike.
It had all started that night, when Spike appeared on her doorstep, nursing a wicked hangover. Joyce had taken one look at him, and fallen hopelessly in lust. He was dirty, cranky, drunk, and ill-tempered, and she had wanted him with a violence that had shocked her.
To cover her highly inappropriate reaction, she had ushered him into her kitchen to sober him up a bit. Hot chocolate wasn't exactly known for its sobering properties, but it *did* have all that caffeine, so it couldn't hurt.
He drank the hot chocolate, and proceeded to tell her the abbreviated version of his life story. As it was quite a long life, it was rather a long time before he got to his current troubles. By the time he had gotten around to mentioning his latest problems with Drusilla, her panties were so wet she was petrified that they would squish when she moved in her seat. And his sense of smell! Lord, she hoped that the alcohol interfered with his olfactory processes.
Fortunately, Buffy had interrupted Spike's sobfest with her lover in tow. Joyce had never really received a good explanation for Angel's existence from her daughter, but she figured that asking for one was kind of pointless. They were clearly permanently attached to each other, and since the only time Buffy looked even remotely happy was when Angel was near her, Joyce grudgingly accepted his continued presence in her daughter's life.
That night, Buffy and Angel had carted Spike away, muttering something about Willow being a witch and Xander being locked in a basement somewhere. Buffy really did have the strangest friends. Spike was not happy about being with them, and had offered Joyce a crooked smile and a sloppy kiss to the cheek on his way out the door.
Joyce had smiled cheerily, waved goodbye to the nice demon, and proceeded to spend the rest of the evening trying to sate the craving between her thighs.
That had been months and months ago, and her lust had not abated in the least. If anything, it had grown more fierce. Spike was fond of dropping by for a hot beverage at least once a week, and Joyce didn't have the heart to refuse him. He was the odd man out in Sunnydale, and she knew that he was lonely. Even more lonely since Drusilla had dumped him royally.
He was single.
She was single.
She was out of her mind.
The next morning, Joyce cornered Buffy while the younger woman was innocently making breakfast. The bagel was spread out before her, a tub of cream cheese next to it. Buffy turned around to wash her hands at the sink, and Joyce picked up the cream cheese and began to slather the bagel with the stuff.
Very calmly, she asked, "Buffy, what is it like...uh...having...uh...well...w-with Angel?" As the words left her mouth, she realized that she couldn't actually say the word 'sex'.
//Smooth, Joyce. Very smooth.//
Buffy turned around, shock written across her features. "Mom?" she questioned, her eyes wide.
"I...uh, well, I just was curious..." she trailed off weakly, fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Mom, since when do you want to know about my sex life?"
"I don't 'want to know', per se, I just want..." //I just want to know what it's like to have a man who doesn't need to breathe go down on you. Oh God! I can't believe I just thought that!//
Buffy furrowed her brow. "Uh, well...I really don't have anything else to compare it to...but I'd have to say it's pretty mindblowing. I, um, well, I have no complaints." Her face took on a faraway smile. "No complaints at all. Particularly since we found out that Angel's soul is permanent."
The mental picture Joyce got at that moment, of her tiny daughter being surrounded by Angel's long, muscular frame, nearly caused a brain freeze, but she managed to snap out of it.
"But is there...is there *biting*?"
Paling, Buffy managed to stutter out, "S-s-sometimes."
Joyce cringed. //Oh lord, too much information. Too much information.//
Both women looked at the bagel, desperate to avoid eye contact.
"Um, thanks for the cream cheese, Mom."
"No problem, dear." With that, Joyce fled the room.
Buffy was beyond grateful to see her go.
Sucking in her gut, Joyce twirled in front of the mirror, examining her body from every possible angle. After a few moments, she let out a huge, disgusted breath, throwing herself backwards onto the bed. No matter what kind of foundation garment she squeezed herself into, she was still a forty year old woman. And every single one of those forty years was stamped across her body.
//How did I get to be forty? I can't possibly be forty. Forty is so...so...middleaged. So old!// she wailed mentally. //For Heaven's sake, Joyce, there is no way that you're ever going to be able to seduce that man.//
Unless he wanted to be seduced, her evil side piped up.
//He does NOT want to be seduced by the Slayer's mother. Besides, if Angel's his 'father', which makes Buffy his stepmother -- oh God, they'd love that one, I'm sure -- that makes me his grandmother. That's me. Grandmotherly. Kind. Always giving him hot chocolate, making sure the house is always stocked with his marshmallows and his Ring-Dings.//
Come give Granny a kiss, her evil side cackled.
"Oh, shut up!" she said out loud.
Joyce lolled her head over to her closet. Hanging inside was a dress Buffy had bought her, one that was much more clingy than anything else Joyce owned.
It was also red.
Blood red, now that she thought of it. Actually, most of Buffy's clothing was red these days. Maybe it had something to do with Angel.
And the biting.
Joyce shook herself out of the second near brain freeze of the day, and got up. She walked over the closet, ripping open the door like she was mad at it, and glared at the damn dress.
It really was a lovely red, she mused, slipping a hand down the dress. It was sleek, and short...and entirely too scandalous for her to wear.
She stood in front of the closet for long moments, before she muttered "Fuck it", wrenched the dress out of the closet, and proceeded to put it on.
When she next looked in the mirror, she nearly didn't recognize herself. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.
She felt stupid.
She was sitting in her kitchen, working on some paperwork for the gallery. In a red dress. In a tight, clingy, overtly sexual red dress.
Alone in a red dress.
Joyce exhaled, slamming her hands down on the table. "Damn it all to hell!" she exclaimed. She had been so sure Spike would show...but he was no where to be found. She turned around, intending to go upstairs and change into something more appropriate for doing paperwork, when she realized she wasn't alone in the kitchen. A shriek rose to her throat before she could stop it.
Spike was lounging in the corner, an unreadable expression in his eyes.
"For Heaven's sake, Spike, what the hell are you doing lurking like that! You nearly scared me to death!"
His lips quirked upwards. "Now that would be a shame, pet. And I came for some hot chocolate...but then I saw you were busy...so I watched you." His voice was low. Delicious. Fuckable.
Joyce felt her face flush. //Get a hold of yourself!//
"You were so intent, I didn't have the heart to interrupt. Besides, you look smashing in that dress. I wanted to ogle you for a bit."
//Smashing? OGLE? Oh. My. God.// "Uh...uh...uh," she stuttered, her hands flying to cover her flaming cheeks.
His eyes narrowed, and she finally got a clear reading on his expression. It had been a long time, but she recognized that look.
Lust. A lot of lust.
Maybe more lust than she was safely equipped to handle. So she did the only sensible thing left to do.
He stalked her.
That was the only word Joyce could use to describe what he was doing at that precise moment. She was pressed against the back wall of her bedroom, her arms held protectively in front of her chest.
"Spike," she said, "Spike, what are you doing?"
He bared his teeth in a swift grin. "What does it look like I'm doing, luv?"
"It looks like you are taking off your shirt, but that can't be right." Joyce's voice sounded much calmer than she felt.
"Very clever, pet. So, is it true?"
"Is w-what true?" she stammered, trying to avoid looking into his glittering blue eyes.
"Are you at your sexual prime?"
Her eyes flew open as her face flooded scarlet. "Spike!" She was shocked.
Spike's grin widened. And his shirt! His shirt was discarded, lying in a forlorn heap at the foot of her bed. Her eyes snapped shut to avoid the temptingly male chest in front of her.
//I will not look, I will not look, I will not look.//
Then, to her horror, she heard the distinctive thud of more clothing hitting the floor. And since the only thing he was left wearing were his pants, and somehow, she just knew he didn't wear underwear...
//Naked. He's naked in front of me. Holy Mary, Mother of God. I will not look, I will not look --//
Her thoughts were interrupted by a lean, muscular form pressing up against her own. One part in particular was doing the majority of the pressing. Her body registered the faint chill of his flesh with the immediate peaking of her nipples.
Joyce could feel her face flame again. He felt her nipples hardening; with the way he was slathered up against her, there was no way he couldn't have felt it. Her mouth opened, probably to chant a Hail Mary, but was instantly covered by firm lips.
With a muffled squeak, she was enveloped by Spike's hard arms. She was almost exactly his height, and all their respective parts fitted together way too well.
"Spike," she tried to mumble beneath his marauding lips, "We really shouldn't be doing this." It came out mostly garbled, but Spike was really in no mood to listen to her anyway.
Not giving her even a moment to think, his mouth ravaged hers, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth, twining with hers.
Of their own accord, her arms came up to hold him closely. //What the hell am I doing? But oh, does he ever know how to kiss...//
"Do you want to be naughty, Joyce?" his wicked voice rasped in her ear as he broke from her mouth. "Do you want me to do naughty things to you, luv?"
"Yes," she moaned helplessly, crumbling under the onslaught of his tongue and his body. "Yes," she cried, giving in to him, giving into the desires of her body. She wanted him, he wanted her, and this was going to happen.
Spike's hands slid down to the hem of the dress, sliding it up past her hips. She had on sheer panties, and lace edged thigh highs. At the feel of her skin against his fingertips, he moaned. "Ah, ah, ah, not so prim and proper, now are we?
It was Joyce's turn to moan as those fingers slipped between her thighs. Her panties somehow disappeared, and his fingers slid past the thatch of hair guarding her core, into sleek wetness. Joyce's breath caught in her throat and her hips arched violently up towards him.
"Been a while, pet?" he murmured, kissing a path down her neck.
Embarrassed, she nodded slightly.
His teeth flashed in a quick grin. "Good."
The parts of her that were still solid melted into a warm liquidy puddle at that grin. It was unfair. No man should be that irresistible. But he was, Joyce mused as he grasped her thigh, resting it on his hip. She took the hint, wrapping her other leg around him with the help of his hands supporting her ass. She was so wet she could feel the moisture coating her inner thighs, dripping down onto him.
Her arms encircled his neck, and his lips sought hers as he pressed her into the wall. Boldly, his tongue thrust into her mouth, and before she had time to think, he was pushing his cock into her.
She wailed into his mouth. He was so big. Broad. Pushing her inner walls apart, claiming the space as his own. Her head fell back against the wall as he filled her completely, a long forgotten soreness radiating from her loins. Joyce took a moment to absorb the fact that she was at that very moment being fucked by Spike, then the vampire in question pulled back and slammed into her.
Her entire body trembled in reaction, and he repeated the motion, jackhammering into her, goring her flesh with his own. Her arms and legs tightened about him, clutching him as tightly as possible. His hands aided his thrusts, pulled her onto his cock. She squirmed around him, even as her world began to darken around her.
"Do you want come, Joyce?"
At the sound of his voice, rough and guttural and so mind-numbingly sexy, she did. Her back arched, her breasts pressed into his chest, her head ground itself into the wall at her back.
And she shrieked his name, her inner walls clasping him greedily.
Not giving her a second to come down from that high, he continued his thrusts, pounding into her wet core, coaxing more and more from her willing body. Joyce keened his name, pleading, begging for surcease.
Spike's muscles were tense, screaming for release, but he needed her with him. Mindlessly, he thrust wildly a few more times, nearly sighing in relief as she tightened and arched around him once more. He felt his own orgasm begin to boil up from inside him, and without thinking of the repercussions of drinking from the Slayer's mother, he dropped his face to her neck, kissing, licking, then biting the smooth flesh. Her blood burst in his mouth, and he drank down the delicious fluid, simultaneously coming inside her, filling her with cold semen.
//Biting...he's biting me...ohgodthatshouldn'tfeelsogood...//
Weak with satisfaction, he slumped into her, allowing the wall to support them both. After long moments of her breasts heaving beneath his chest, she spoke.
"What the hell was that?"
He smiled into her neck. "Temporary insanity?"
Joyce snickered. "Can we do it again?"
Spike shrugged. "You think you can handle it?"