The Mug's Story

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Summary: A story of the mug/Spike ship.

AUTHOR: Christy
EMAIL: moneal@poboxes.com
WEBSITE: www.members.tripod.com/allaboutspike
RATING: PG
PAIRING: Spike/Mug
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine.
DISTRIBUTION: Just ask first.
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This is the story of how my life went from drudgery, to heaven, to unbearable pain. I am a coffee mug. I live in a cupboard of a man named Rupert Giles. He is a nice enough man, but stuffy and not really my type. He rarely took me out of the cupboard. I lived a boring life amongst the other mugs.

Until the day. The day he came. I was removed from the cupboard by an obviously angry Mr. Giles. He filled me with a warm, thick liquid and carried me to the bathroom. This was a new experience, I had never been carried to the bathroom before. As we rounded the corner, I saw the most exquisite creature I had ever laid eyes on. He was lying in the bathtub, tied up. He had blonde hair, and eyes so blue you could drown just looking into them. I was being handed to him and saw his large, beautiful hands coming towards me. I began to quiver at the thought of those hands touching me. And then they were. He wrapped his hands around me and held me so gently, like I was something fragile he didn’t want to break. Like he cherished me. He then blew on me, a steady stream of cool breath, I wanted to die. Nothing could ever compare to the rapture of that moment. Then his lips touched me and I lost all control. I knew I would belong to him for the rest of my existence.

The next few weeks were glorious. Three or four times a day, he would hold me, caress me, touch me with those lips. I was in heaven, I never wanted it to end. Then one day, he didn’t come for me. I waited all day, maybe he was out. I knew he would come any minute. But he never did. It has been almost two years since the last time I saw him. I was packed into a box, put on an airplane and moved to a new cupboard. I still live with Mr. Giles, he never takes me out of the cupboard. If I could, I would kill myself just to escape this pain I live in. But I can’t move.

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Christy - moneal@poboxes.com