Title: W(ors)hipped
Characters: Spike/Buffy
Notes: Originally posted 15th March, 2006.
So yes I am tired and therefore no selfcritique. So I post. (and overuse the word ’so’) Feel free to mock or enjoy. femmenerd wanted porny poetry .. which I can’t really do. What I can do I’ve named poetrythings in my memories and it has more emphasis on things rather than poetry. Stream of consciousness perhaps? It’s too choppy to be drabbles. Still, I like to write it, whatever you wanna call it. Here’s ‘the mix of words that I do but don’t know what to call’.

.

W(ors)hipped

From above he is watched.

Hands tied, body tensed,
arms stretching to accommodate silken straps.
Made to leave no marks.
But arms,
hands fisted, red crescents in palms,
pulling harder.
Wanting the red.
Wants proof of tonight he can touch, see,
hide underneath white shirt cuffs.
Straightlaced and nobody
in a sea of suits.
But not here,
here he is someone’s
pet, slave, bitch.
Call him as you see him.
As you use him.
As you want him.
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