Spanish Fly

 

By Ann V.

 

Disclaimer: If I owned Trigun, don’t you think this piece of *fiction* would be an episode?

 

Warnings: Drugs that cause (technically) nonconsensual sex. Sex. Bad humor. Heterosexuals. Yet everyone is protected you know why? (Public Service Announcement!) Because I support relationships that involve considerate people, and considerate people make sure that their partners are protected.

 

 

Part 1: Every Fangirl’s Fantasy.

 

There is a possibly fictional drug, named Spanish Fly, well known for its aphrodisiac powers. Granted, it doesn’t exist in the year 2003, but this is the future we speak of. It is also fanfiction. Deal with it. That said, Spanish Fly exists. This is bad - well, not really. It means a definite pr0nfest and Nightow-sama getting those sort of chills like something odd is happening - but generally this is bad. Especially considering that the planet Gunsmoke’s most influential people are in so much of a love triangle, that it might as well be called a love dodecagon. Yet, that just sounds weird. With the help of a substance as potent as Spanish Fly - well, let’s just say interesting things would happen. It may be confusing, it may be obscene, and heck it may not even make any sense, but let’s get on with the story.

 

Dominique skipped, yes skipped, through the streets of May. It was a happy, happy, happy, happy - okay, there aren’t enough happies in the world to describe exactly how happy her day was, but it was pretty damn happy. You see, she had a small brown paper bag in her purse. In that paper bag was a little box, and in the box there was a vial. In that vial...well, that's what the story about, stupid. You see, Dominique was happy because she had a little vial of happiness in her purse. Well, not really happiness, but something - that when appropriately applied - could lead to happiness-inducing squelching noises. You figure it out. She had also stopped at the drug store to pick up protection, because protection is good and unwanted pregnancy is bad (Public service announcement!). You see, that tonight Dominique was getting laid. Well, not just laid, but laid by the hands-down most attractive psychopath on the whole dang planet. Yes, Dominique was a very lucky girl.

 

After her little stop at the drugstore, (Public Service Announcement!) she also stopped at a grocery. She wasn’t the best cook, but the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right? Well, that should be easy enough; cheesecake isn’t that hard to make. Right? As Dominique learned, cheesecake is a lot harder to make than it seems, especially since the addition of questionably legal drugs seems to make the cooking time longer. It wasn’t that bad, but only cause it was worth anything to make sweet, sweet love with a sexy evil bitch. She did a little dance of joy and went to get ready to present her creation.

 

One slinky dress, some perfume, personal deodorant, and mascara later, Dominique stood before her boss’ door. She held the box containing her creation behind her back and knocked. There was no response. She knocked again. She pressed her ear against the door. There was the sound of water running, some mild cussing, and the water was turned off. Then, silence. She pressed her head closer to the door. Still silence. Not a single sound. Then the door opened, and one over-balanced Dominique fell into one fluffy-towel-clad Legato Bluesummers. Dominique blushed and stood up straight.

 

"What?" he asked, lacking the manners to invite a lady in. Dominique didn’t care. If Legato’s telepathy alerted him of any danger, it didn’t show. Dominique stuck her creation out in front of her like a little girl. Cautiously Legato opened the box, and when he saw what it contained his eyes brightened in a way that only someone who spent time obsessing over the minute changes that revealed Legato’s moods could see. He seemed pleased, pleased enough to open the door and let her in. She took a seat on his bed and watched him happily open his box. She waited. He was painfully slow in savoring the stupid cheesecake. She just wanted him to eat it.

 

"Tell me how I did! It’s my first try, but I figured you wouldn’t mind, if it was cheesecake." She tired to urge him on. He shrugged and took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully. She sat with that sort of barely-disguised manic look in her eyes and a stupid smile on her face. Chew, swallow, bite, chew, swallow, until he’d eaten the whole damn cheesecake. The whole time Dominique waited and watched.

 

"Hmm, it was unusually sweet and has this peculiar flavor but quite goo..." His speech trailed off.

 

"Is it hot in here?" he asked. His breath got heavier, his face got a little flushed, and it looked very interesting with a red blush and blue hair. Dominique bit her lip and nodded. She scooted closer to him. He looked at her. She looked at him. There were... Oh, screw it, they did the horizontal tango and Dominique screamed a lot. The good kind of screaming. It was raunchy and horribly stereotypically good. Dominique got to be on top, because Dominique deserves it and Legato is so a bottom, especially when drugged. It was good sex, because that’s the point of Spanish Fly, is it not? Dominique thinks so and she really thought so when she wrapped her arms around an Adonis-like torso and fell asleep listening to a soft heartbeat.

 

 

Coming Next: Part 2: Possible Side Effects Include...