Part 3 - Dinner Presentation
Author: Saber
ShadowKitten
Disclaimer:
I own nothing. All belongs to Joss and UPN.
Spike
tugged at his collar and muttered a swear under his metaphorical breath. One of
the women at his table glanced at him, and he gave her a benign smile. When she
turned her attention back to the lecturer, he rolled his eyes and started to
play with his dinner knife again, all the while thinking of ways to kill the
Slayer and Giles and everyone else for making him have to be the one
to come to the dinner presentation.
Giles
had found out through Buffy and Willow earlier in the day that a renown
anthro-something-or-other, whom the former Watcher knew to also be heavily into
the occult, was giving a dinner presentation at one hundred dollars a plate.
Not able to attend himself because of researching the new demon in town, Giles
had suggested that Spike "be of some use, for once, and attend." The
blond vampire had tried to pawn the duty off on someone else, but Willow was
helping Giles, Buffy had to be on patrol because of the demon, Xander was working,
and Anya had laughed in his face.
So
Spike was stuck sitting at the furthest cloth-covered table from the podium
near the wall along with seven other people he didn't know, dressed as a
nancyboy in a pair of tan khakis, white shirt, blue sport coat and matching
tie, and, Satan save him, loafers. Buffy had proclaimed at the start
of the night that there was plenty of time before she needed to hit the streets
to take him to the mall and dress him properly for the dinner. He would swear
that he'd seen an unholy gleam in her eyes when she'd volunteered, and he'd
quickly learned how much the Slayer liked using him as a dress-up doll.
If
any of his brethren saw him, they'd die again from laughing too hard at him.
Shifting
on his padded chair, he tuned back into the lecture, listening for the things
Giles had told him to listen for.
"...the
evolutionary constitution of the genus has metamorphosed into a conglomeration
of..."
Spike
silently cursed the ex-Watcher for doing this to him. He cursed the soldier-boys
for fixing him. He cursed the Slayer for making him help. He cursed the others
for being alive. He cursed his Sire just because. He cursed at the boring
doctor of anthro-whatever for being a dry as desert sand.
He
cursed when he felt something brush against the crotch of his khakis.
The
blond vampire clutched the butterknife in his hand and dropped his gaze to his
lap. His eyes widened perceptively when he saw familiar painted nails on a
slender but strong hand waving up at him. He glanced at his table companions,
then purposely dropped the knife on the floor.
Bending,
he picked up the edge of the long tablecloth and found a devilishly smiling
Slayer kneeling at his feet. Then he felt a devilishly groping hand on his
crotch again and he hissed, "Slayer!"
She
batted her lashes at him and her thumb rubbed over the material pressed against
his testicles, causing the muscles in his groin to tighten and his penis to
become rock hard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his neighbor shifting to
look down at him, and he quickly grabbed the butterknife and straightened,
allowing the tablecloth to fall back into place.
Spike
gave the man next to him a tight smile, showing the guy the retrieved knife.
The man gave him a bored look and returned his attention to the speaker. Spike
clamped his thighs together, trying to stop Buffy from torturing him there in
the dinner hall, but since she was the Slayer, she easily pushed his legs back
apart and he felt her position herself between them. Then he was surprised to
feel both of her hands on his hips, and he glanced down just as she tugged him
forward on the plastic-covered, cushioned seat.
He
should get up and leave. He should get up and leave right now. He should get
up, leave, grab her when she came out and shag her outside beside the building.
He should not move a single inch now that her hot tongue was licking
his cock like a popsicle under the table.
He
knew this was payback. He also knew that if he interrupted the lecture or
didn't pay attention to it, Giles would cut off his television and lock him
back up in the bathtub. He quickly debated the pros and cons of Giles's wrath,
then lost all ability to think when Buffy sucked his shaft into her mouth. All
he could do was sit there, clutching the knife in his hands, and stare at the
doctor of anthro-who-gave-a-fuck-what-it-was as the man droned on, while the
Slayer did wicked things to him under the table.
"...cognitive
culpability in the developing socio-stratus within this anthropological foundation..."
The
knife snapped between his hands, causing the others at his table to look at
him, as Buffy continued sucking him expertly. He gave them a pained smile and
dropped the broken utensil to the table, where the pieces made small thuds
against the cloth-covered, fake wood. The seven glared at him, then looked back
towards the podium.
They
turned back towards the boring doctor of anthro-whosiwhatsits just in time,
too. Spike felt his sac contract and his cock swell a moment later. He bit his
lower lip to keep from growling out loud as he shot his semen into the Slayer's
greedy, sucking mouth. His entire body shook once, violently, in aftershock of
his orgasm. His two closest neighbors turned a puzzled glare on him again, and
he mouthed "I'm fine."
Spike
felt Buffy pat his softening shaft in a loving gesture, then tuck him back
inside of his khakis. He briefly wondered how she was going to escape from
under the table when he saw her crawl out next to his chair, glance up and wave
at him with a naughty grin on her face, then crawl behind him towards the wall.
He turned slightly on his chair at the same time she stood, smoothed out her
clothes, and walked out of the room as if she didn't just give him a blow job
in the middle of a dinner presentation.
He
casually looked at the other patrons and his table mates and saw that none of
them had beared witness to the Slayer's leaving. Shaking his head, he slid back
on his chair and glanced down into his lap to be certain he was zipped and
buttoned and nothing was sticking out. There was a piece of paper tucked into
the waistband of his khakis.
With
a slight smile, he pulled it free and opened it, holding it beneath the edge of
the table to read it.
Giles expects a full report of Dr.
Mantwinka's presentation. I hope you were paying attention.
"Evil
woman," Spike muttered to himself, earning yet another glare from his
table mates. He sighed and settled himself back to listen to the good doctor of
anthro-bloody-fucking-boring-as-hellology finish his presentation.
"...restitution
of abnormalities with the psychoanalytical nomenclature as presented
by..."
Spike
tugged at his tie and wished the guy would just shut up so he could find the
Slayer, throw her onto whatever flat surface was available, and shag her brains
out.
The End