For Stargems - Nick/Paris and Spike/Buffy

Paris smiles at Nick as she traces the seam along the side of her thigh, black leather stitched to black leather. "Is this how you wanted it?" she says, her voice high and kittenish, and for a moment the illusion breaks.

But when he looks at her again, blond hair slicked back and curled short, the tight black top that clings to her slim torso, it doesn't seem to matter so much.

"Uh," Nick says, and his voice comes out a little hoarse. "Yeah."

She smiles again, wider, more predatory, moves closer. He knows what comes next and he's ready to fall when she pushes. She climbs up onto the bed beside him, over him, straddling his thighs, the edge of her voice wicked.

"Do you want me to call you Buffy now?" she says, leaning down to nip at his earlobe. "Do you want me to say bloody 'ell, Slayer?" she says, making her voice gruff and deep, and he knows the accent should be ludicrous but from her lips he likes it. Likes it a lot.

Paris stares down at Nick for a long moment, blue eyes utterly opaque. He opens his mouth to say--

She breaks out into giggles and falls to the mattress beside him, hands resting on her stomach as she laughs and laughs and laughs. "The look," she chokes out, "you should've seen the look on your--"

"Screw you," Nick says, laughing too, "screw you." Nick turns over, kissing her neck, on top now. He sits up and fumbles at the zipper of her pants, tugging downwards, both hands working.

"Where's your stake then, Slayer?" she says, curling her lip around the words, languidly stretching her arms out across the mattress, "come on, Buffy, where's your--"

She breaks off, arching into his hand, lips parted.

By Ro, January 2004

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