Cooped Up
She lay on her cot, and let her mind wander. Down below, Trixie was using her tentative tongue, hiding under the blanket in case a guard walked by and looked in. Like they'd care. Little Trixie, who said she'd been set up by her boyfriend. Maybe it was true.
Involuntary shudder. Good one. Still, not particularly involving. Maybe she wasn't in the mood.
What would Buffy have been like? Panting; hot and heavy after a good fight. Buffy the upright. Buffy the uptight. Never would've happened.
She'd kill for a long, hard penis.
Wandering off again. Dark haired Angel. Angel the noble. Angel the talk her in here. At least she was having better sex than he was.
That other one. The blond one. His tight little body, with the noticeable bulge. All the more noticeable the more she teased him. She should have made him pop. She'd never had a vampire. Now we're talking stamina.
If she'd known it would be her last chance, she would never have done Captain Conventional. Stupid. Why did it have to be all. About. Buffy? Revenge was a dish best served cold.
Which brought her mind back to Blondie. Cold body on a hot night. Unman in black. Blue eyes, cold as the rest of him. She could feel the wave rising. That was it, concentrate on the blond one. Good. Work your magic, baby. Yeah, yeah, oh yeah.
Let Little Trixie think it was all about her.