Strength in Numbers, part 6
Jul. 22nd, 2006 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thatotherpervok I know what I said about not posting for a few days, but <ducks heavy objects> I had this written already, I swear. I’ve been sitting on it since two days after I posted the last installment. The main holdup was…it’s not all that hot, because they won’t shut up. haha. Seriously. Or, maybe it's still hot, but they really monkey with the rhythm of my porn, because they’re all, feeling-sharing and communicative. Gah, it’s so functional of them! But, for better or for worse, this is how it is in my head, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vamptastica assures me that it does not suck. Therefore, I post. But it’s, uh…gratuitously long. lol.
Oh andburnzitt? Looks like you got what you were after, with the bloodplay. And that’s official warning for the rest of you folks. lol.
Oh and also? This is nom’d at the Forbidden Awards! Thanks bunches to whoever did that. nom’d for the Bliss Award (best het) and the Naughty Virgin Award (best new fic by a new writer)
Title: Strength in Numbers
Author: Mel (btvslover82)
Pairings: Spike/Dawn for the first few installments and pretty much throughout; later, also Spike/Angel, Angel/Dawn, and eventually S/A/D. References to A/B and S/B.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The nerds were successful in assassinating Buffy in late season 6. This is the story of what happened after. See A/N under the cut for where it goes AU.
Warnings: sex with a minor (16yo at the youngest point), eventual slash, eventual threesome, character death (Buffy, that is…Dawn will not be turned)…errr….I dunno, they’re vampires. I don’t have any particular bloodplay planned, but I’m not ruling it out. eta: bloodplay, check. I repeat, we have bloodplay. lol.
Disclaimer: Joss would blush. I am, alas, still poor. don’t sue me.
Feedback: please!
Previous parts are here
Previously:
“Funny, but blinding brain-pain isn’t that romantic.”
“And yet, the fact remains.”
Dawn sighed dramatically and flopped her head onto her arms. “I told mom she should have let me take gymnastics.”
Spike was staring at her, trying to suss that nonsequitor out, brows low with confusion.
“A lot of girls these days don’t technically have their virginity by the time they do it the first time. Because we exercise and you know…stretch things.”
“Ah,” he said delicately. “Well, too bad for both of us, you are a sedentary sloth of a girl.” He sighed.
She hit him and he ducked playfully.
Dawn cuddled into him. “So we’re gonna do this.”
Spike inhaled the scent of her hair. “Sounds like.”
Dawn squeezed him. “Let’s do it tomorrow, k? I don’t wanna wait.”
“Whatever you want, pidge.”
part 6
The next night, Spike insisted on taking Dawn out to dinner. They never went out together, because Dawn didn’t like to leave the apartment these days, and Spike indulged her in that, as he did in so many things. But tonight, he said that he wanted to make things special, and he seemed so jittery about the whole thing that Dawn found herself unable to refuse.
She thought Spike was more nervous about taking her virginity than she was about giving it. He could be such a big softie. Not that she would tell him that.
They went to a fancy place. Dawn didn’t object, because she was well aware that their money wasn’t hard-earned. No need to scrimp and save. It took her forever to find something in her wardrobe nice enough to wear to an expensive restaurant, and even when she did, the skirt was too short because she’d been growing. Not that Spike complained—leered, was more like. He did growl, though, when the waiter checked out her legs. The sound made her wet, and Spike’s eyes burned at hers knowingly over the candle centerpiece.
Dawn settled back in her chair and crossed her legs, grinning secretly when his eyes followed the movement.
“So, William, what do you do?” she asked, formally.
Spike looked utterly confused, which made Dawn giggle. “What are you on about?”
“Well, this is our first date. I’m making first date talk.”
Spike grinned like the sun, but then his eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t give it up to some git on the first date, would you? If you do, he’d better hope I’m well dusted by then, because I’d rip his head off and—”
Dawn laughed, even though his raised voice had drawn attention from the neighboring tables, who were staring at him in horror.
“Relax, Spike, you’re scaring the humans,” she murmured, only loud enough for his ears. He looked around and sneered at the clientele, who hurriedly returned to their meals. “Besides, we’re never going to find out whether I would or not, are we? Only first date I’m interested in taking to bed is you.”
Spike’s eyes heated at her quiet declaration, and for a moment Dawn thought he was going to drag her out of the restaurant before their food could even arrive. But he settled back in his chair, determined to wine and dine her.
Actually, she wondered about the wine—just half a glass, he said. Dawn felt sure he must have threatened someone, for them to serve her alcohol. That or they thought he was her father…ok, not going there. Besides, he didn’t appear old enough to be her father, and he sure as hell didn’t look at her like a daddy. Well…actually….
“Well, Dawn, ‘m in the business of managing the flow of liquid assets.”
The statement pulled Dawn back from her nearly-dirty thoughts. After a moment of confusion, Dawn realized Spike was picking up the thread of her first-date game. She giggled at the cleverness of the answer.
“So, you’re like an investment banker,” she offered.
The candlelight flickered in his eyes as he gazed at her, eyelids low. He purred in his throat. Damn him. He knew what that did to her. “If you like. Know some ladies get all warm in their pink bits for the green stuff, though I didn’t take you for one of them.”
Dawn could feel her face warming, and her heartbeat racing, but she held his eyes. “No, there are other things that…get my pink bits warm.”
Spike’s eyebrow twitched with smug knowledge, and his white smile was devastatingly handsome. He was wearing a suit, and god only knows where he’d gotten that, but it was such a good look for him, so different and yet surprisingly fitting, and damned if Dawn wasn’t close to dragging him out of the restaurant before the food came. But if Spike of the black t-shirt had voluntarily put on a suit, for her, she was hardly going to cut the evening short.
But she might be forced to jump him in the car on the way home.
~*~*~*~
Dawn jumped him in the car on the way home.
Spike had both hands on the wheel at the time, so when the wine-warmed girl tore open the fly of his newly-stolen suit and started showing off every blowjob technique he had ever taught her, all he could do was squeak and try to pull her head off of his cock.
“Dawn, sweet, you’re going to make me crash the bloody car.” His voice sounded desperate even to his own ears.
Dawn looked up at him with those mischievous little-girl eyes that he couldn’t resist. “Did I mention how sexy you are in a suit?” She licked her lips.
He groaned softly. Bugger. “Erm…no, you didn’t, but you could just tell me instead of showing me on the interstate, luv.” Christ, did he just say that? When had he become such a git?
Dawn arched one carefully sculpted brow at him. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Where, indeed. He’d taught the girl well.
Spike lost that argument. Happily, and probably before it had even begun. But he did pull over to the side of the road, because, well—precious cargo.
And that wasn’t poncy. It was just romantic.
Just as it was romantic that when he finally got her home and into their bed, Spike took his sweet time worshiping Dawn with his hands and lips and tongue until she was limp with it. Savoring the softness of her skin against his calloused fingers. Enjoying the strong-sweet flavor of her on his tongue as he drove her to distraction. Loving the plaintiff sounds she cried for him as he drove her to come again and again….
“Spike, are you stalling?” Dawn panted out, somewhere after orgasm number 4.
Course she wouldn’t see how romantic he was being. She’d grown up in an era where she was ready to hop into bed with some investment banker pillock on the first date.
Ok, so he was stalling. And pouting about it in his head.
And yes, he did know that he was jealous of a fictional version of himself. But there were plenty of real investment bankers in LA, and Spike was all too aware that soon, he’d be standing in the path of another end-as-we-know-it. She’d be there with the greasy lot of them (though she didn’t know it yet), and they’d all want her because she was so bloody gorgeous.
Dawn smacked him on the shoulder. “Spike are you growling at me? It was just a question!”
…Seems as though he had been. Oops.
Spike crawled up Dawn’s body to settle, nude, on top of her curves. Her body radiated the heat she was generating, blood hovering beneath the surface in arousal despite her irritation. Any nervousness she had been feeling was long gone, by his own design. Dawn’s body was ready for him. Her heart was ready for him. Spike knew he should be ready too, but he wasn’t so sure. Not about making love with Dawn, but…Spike never set off the chip these days, but he hadn’t forgotten the blinding, nauseating pain. Further probing had confirmed that Dawn’s hymen was relatively thick, and Spike had no doubt he was in for a headache. And then he was going to lose his erection and disappoint her—and embarrass himself.
Still, he was acting like a wanker. He nuzzled her ear in apology.
“Sorry, Bit. Not you. ‘M just nervous.” It pained him to admit it out loud. He had a reputation to maintain, after all—but Spike could tell Dawn anything. This, he knew.
Dawn smiled at him indulgently. “I know. It’s really cute.” Just as Spike pouted over the term like a right nancy boy, Dawn saved him from his apparent determined to destroy his own self-respect by elaborating quickly: “But only because you’re such a badass the rest of the time.”
Spike knew she said it just to placate his self-image, and he smiled at her. “Thanks, kitten.”
“You’re welcome,” she acknowledged matter-of-factly. “So can you get on with it and shag my brains out now?”
Spike snorted. “And they say romance is dead. My words don’t sound right comin’ out of your mouth, you know.” Even so, he dipped his head into the hollow of her shoulder, inhaling the beguiling clean-girl scent of her. Enjoying her body’s unmasked tells of their foreplay—the rapid lub-dub, and the alluring scent. He looked up at her through his lashes. “Suppose I might as well, since I have you all warmed up for me.”
She giggled sweetly. “Might as well.”
Spike kissed her, softly, as he should. As he wanted to. They were both smiling.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, pet.”
“I want to give you something special.”
His eyes felt soft as he looked down at her. “You already are, you impatient little chit. I’m gettin’ to it.” They sounded like love-words, far more than they sounded like an admonishment.
Dawn smiled, sweetly nervous of a sudden. “No, that’s not what I mean. I’ve been thinking…it’s gonna set the chip off anyway, when you push inside of me?”
Spike’s hand rubbed gently over her cheek. “Don’t you worry about that, platelet.”
“Well…I am, but that’s not what I mean either,” Dawn rushed. “What I’m trying to say is…Iwantyoutodrinkfromme,” she blurted.
Spike frowned. “Say it again.” Oh, he’d heard. But he hadn’t believed.
“I want you to drink from me. I don’t know when we’ll get another chance. And it…I know you must want to. That’s what you would do, right? If we were together, and you didn’t have the chip? I read that in one of Giles’ books once while I was supposed to be looking up something lame. And I want you to have that…like you should. And I like the idea of it. Me in you, while you’re in me….” Dawn blushed crimson.
Well, how the bloody hell was he going to say no to that? Truth was, he’d been having near-wet dreams about for weeks. It was yet another part of himself he’d lost a claim to, the sharing of blood with a lover, and just like the desire to hunt prey, Dawn wanted to give the ability back. If only for this time.
Spike had a vague feeling he was supposed to say no, on account of it being a bad idea to turn on any bloodlust towards her. The voice sounded suspiciously like Peaches. And Spike had no doubt he would lust…her blood would taste like innocence and ancient power and love, and Dawn. He had no doubt it would be one of the best things he’d ever had in his mouth.
But the chip would remain, and even if he wanted to bite her, he’d be unable. And when was the last time he’d minded his bloody sire, anyway?
When Spike got out of the bed and went to the living room to rummage for something, Dawn sat up in bed.
“Wait, no! Spike, forget I said anything. I get that you don’t want to do that, and I….” Her face crumpled in confusion. “A hammer?”
She was beautifully unselfconscious, uncovered, as she looked at the object in his hands with utter distraction. Dawn searched his face as he crawled onto the bed. “Um, Spike, why are you bringing a hammer to bed?”
“Because you’re a tasty bit that I can’t refuse.” Spike dropped a kiss on her flushed lips. “Look here, pet. You’re going to taste right delicious, and there’s a small chance I won’t want to stop. If I lose myself, I want you to kosh me in the skull with this. Just mind not to hit yourself with the follow-through.”
Dawn blinked up at him.
“Don’t be overeager about it or nothin’. If I go at you for more than, say, sixty seconds, or if you start to feel fuzzy in your vision, ok?”
Her eyes ticked back to the hammer.
“Dawn,” he said gently, “you have to promise. Or if you’d rather, we won’t do it at all.”
“No,” she said, “I’ll do it.”
Spike kissed her. “Good girl.” He lay the hammer in her hand and wrapped her slender fingers around it.
Spike crawled back between her legs and kissed her throat gently, worshipping her offering. “Now that I’ve scared the holy hell out of you, we can get down to brass tacks.” He nipped at her chin and she giggled.
“Can see I didn’t deter myself any, hey?” Spike rubbed his erection against her and she gave him a lopsided grin, breath hitching. He captured her mouth and rocked his hips against her as he kissed her passionately, adjusting himself so that he was rubbing against her still-sensitive clit. Dawn moaned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hammer bumping against the bed on the other side.
She held onto it. Good girl.
Soon they were both worked up to a lather again—he and Dawn had enough chemistry to blow up the whole bloody laboratory. He was sliding through Dawn’s wetness, and she was whimpering and rubbing herself back against him. When his cock bumped unerringly against her opening and Dawn bore down on it eagerly, Spike pulled back from their kiss to speak.
“Ok, dove. This has to be quick, like a band-aid, right? Or it might never get done. I wish I could—” He paused, studying her face, which was open and vulnerable. “Right, well I’m not gonna bite, just gonna scratch you. Don’t forget—”
“I know, I know. If you get fresh, pow with the hammer.” Dawn rolled her eyes with more bravado than he knew she was feeling, and Spike teasingly nipped her lip in censure.
“Right. Less talk, more action.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Dawn giggled, but he heard her heart pick up as she grew wetter at the thought of it.
Kissing her gently, Spike aligned himself and eased into her body as far as he could without obstruction, feeling her stretch around him, wet and lush and so snug he thought that might set the chip off. Dawn’s breath fluttered in her chest in discomfort, and Spike murmured encouragement to her, anticipating the pain for both of them and wishing they could do this some other way. His hand stroked her cheek as he tilted her head to expose her neck properly, and then he vamped. Before he could chicken out, he slammed his hips home.
The shock to his brain was familiar by now, though no less blinding and excruciating than he had remembered. His field of vision flared white, and he was insensible enough for a time that he didn’t hear himself scream.
When Spike came back from the pain enough to be aware of smell and sensation, the first thing that drew his attention was the scent of fresh, ripe blood before him. It called to him, whispered to his instinct to drink and be healed, far before he felt the tight sheath around his softening cock, or the way Dawn trembled against him.
Spike latched onto the cut he’d managed to make on her throat, and as he swallowed down the elixir of Dawn’s life force, the throb in his skull subsided and he felt himself harden again. Dawn tasted strongly of fear, and though he usually savored the flavor in victims, hers tasted sickening on his tongue. She shouldn’t taste like fear, with him. She should taste like love, and sweet, happy things. Spike petted reassuring hands down her body in long strokes, from her cupped face to her long legs wrapped around his hips. Gradually, Dawn’s body relaxed and the tang of fear subsided.
He’d been right that she tasted like bloody heaven. Close as he’d ever get, anyway. Spike’s hips rocked gently against her as he pulled at her blood, his eyes shifting under his lids.
There was the innocence—the syrupy flavor of her virginity that would linger until they completed the act. It was oversweet, like honeysuckle on his tongue. The saccharine flavor was balanced out by the spice of desire that pumped there as well, hot and wild and heady. Dawn tasted like someone innocent of body but not of mind—which Spike ruddy well knew she wasn’t, since he’d assisted in the formation of nearly every dirty thought in her head. And both the sugar and the spice were tempered by her love for him, soft as rose petals on his tongue.
But what bowled Spike over with bloodlust was the ancient mystical power running through the veins of this small slip of a human girl. He’d never had anything like it—savory and sensual and utterly intoxicating. Spike could get drunk off of Dawn, moreso than he ever had from Jack Daniels. And it tingled in his veins, as though it were not just restorative but able to improve him, somehow. It was incredibly erotic.
Dimly, Spike became aware that Dawn was hitting him in the shoulder with one small fist. As he forced himself to tune into the sensation, he realized she was calling his name with a little panic, as well. Reluctantly, he released his grip on her vein and slipped one thumb across, to staunch off the temptation while he ran reassuring kisses over her throat in apology. Her fingers were white-knuckled on the hammer he had given her.
Spike nuzzled at Dawn’s mouth. “Sok, poppet. So sorry, love, you’re ok.” He petted her soothingly. Wiped at her tears. Gave her the barest kiss before she pulled back. Briefly, he thought he had gone too far, and frightened her too much for them to continue. But then she dropped the hammer to the bed, and ran fluttery fingers against his scalp.
Dawn looked to be on the verge of tears. “You screamed. I was so worried for you,” she waivered.
Spike huffed out a tender laugh that she was concerned for him, when she was the one with a demon at her throat. He was grateful and over the moon and still quite giddy on the taste of her.
“No reason to worry, pet. You fixed me up proper,” he soothed gently. “All healed, see?” He flexed into her, leering, and paused. The closely-hugging passage was fairly dry now, from pain or fear or general distress.
Spike kissed the clotted mark he’d created on her neck. “Be right back,” he winked, before withdrawing and slipping down her body. Spike was still buzzing on the heady mixture of her blood and he tended her clit with serious enthusiasm and devotion. Worship, even. Dawn tasted faintly of virginal blood there as well, and her needy reaction inflamed him as her back arched from the bed and she mewled his name, legs shifting restlessly against his ears.
When her arousal was free-flowing once again, Spike shifted upwards to nuzzle at Dawn’s tender, soft belly, and then the curve of her breasts. When he settled his weight back onto her body, she wrapped warm arms around him and they snogged for a long time, reassuring one another. This time they were kissing as he eased into her slick passage. He felt her tighten with discomfort, and held himself still.
Dawn broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to his. “I like this time much better,” she laughed, and he agreed with her. Despite the lure of her blood, he’d far rather she laugh when he took her than cry.
“Better?” he asked after a moment, and Dawn shifted restlessly, and nodded. Spike watched her face as he withdrew and reentered slowly. She flushed and bit her lip. He began to roll his hips, building a gradual rhythm, and Dawn began to pant.
“Oh,” she moaned as he angled to stimulate her clit. “Ohhh, that’s good.” He grinned into her throat and gave her ass a loving grope. She felt so bloody good. Plush, inside. Hot for him. Her walls clutched at his cock in a way that made him cross-eyed. It had been so long, and this wasn’t just some fuck. It was Dawnie.
His mouth descended on hers as he truly started pounding into her, swallowing all of her breathy exclamations. His tongue stroked her mouth as his hands stroked over every inch of sweaty, overheated flesh. Her heart was thumping like to climb out of her chest, and she was so slick for him, the snug fit was no issue at all.
So much for worrying about her enjoying herself.
Her hips started twisting up into his, legs wrapped tight, and he let go of her mouth for a moan of his own. “God yeah Dawn. Just like that, pet. That’s my good girl. Here—”
He paused in his motion to hitch one of her legs over his shoulder. Gymnastics or no, she was a bendy little thing. When he started to stroke back into her, fast and hard and certain, Dawn’s whole body tensed rigid, and her kitten-claws curled into his back. The token amount of pain made him bite his lip and groan.
“Oh!” Her blue-gray eyes were open, but glazed. Her breathing was labored. “Oh God, Spike that’s—you’re….”
“Hitting the spot, yeah?”
“It’s…is it a sss….” She broke off and panted like she was hyperventilating, and he chuckled.
His humor was short-lived though, because just then she wailed, and threw her head back, and pulled so hard on his hair that he thought he’d go bald, but bloody hell, who cared. Because the pain was good, but the short hard strong contractions that snuck up around his cock were better, especially when it seemed they would never stop, as long as he kept hammering up against her happy place inside. But much as he’d like, he couldn’t keep on forever, because Dawn seemed on the verge of going stark raving mad, and Spike liked his hair where it was, and anyway, his balls were drawing up tight and that familiar haze was coming up over his mind, and—holy dear mother of fuck, maybe if he was a good boy he could crawl up inside and stay here forever, because his brains were coming right out his cock anyway, and he should really remain there with them.
Panting, Spike collapsed carefully onto her body, and unable to seehearthink, he sought out Dawn’s lips for a slow, appreciative post-coital kiss. Her return effort rather lacked vigor, but he could sympathize. He rolled onto his back and settled her flushed little body atop him, petting the slick skin of her back.
“Wow,” she mumbled finally.
“Mmmm.”
“Tha wzz uhh—”
“Mmmhmmm,” he slurred. “Slow start. Strong finish. The judge from Russia gives it a 10, and he’s a stingy bastard.”
Dawn giggled, and he smiled and kissed the top of her head, and then Spike fell asleep to the quiet rhythm of her heart.
~*~*~*~
They dozed for a time. He was awoken by the sound of Dawn snuffling against his chest.
Spike rubbed a hand along her back. “What’s wrong, pet?”
Dawn turned her head to the side, leaking saltwater all over his skin. “I miss mom,” she sobbed.
Spike drew in a long steadying breath, closed his eyes and squeezed her as tight as he dared. “’M sorry for that, kitten.”
He rocked her while she cried her eyes dry. Of course a girl would miss her mum at a time like this. His heart swelled for her, and he wondered if she didn’t miss her sis too, but it was just easier to express it for Joyce. Especially in light of what she’d just shared with him.
She wept until she was hoarse. Spike has seen enough grief in his time, caused a lot of it but felt enough himself, that he didn’t try to say anything beyond a few senseless little nothings murmured in her ear.
Just when he thought she was winding down, she snuffled something into his chest that made him ache, top to toe.
“I don’t want you to die.” The declaration was so tiny, so desperate, that all Spike wanted was to physically pummel whatever made her feel this way.
But he couldn’t. So instead, he cracked a joke. “Already dead, nibblet. Remember? Comes in handy, not needin’ to breathe.”
He felt like a real git when Dawn burst into tears all over again. He sighed and cradled his palm against the curve of her skull.
“There, there, pet. Not gonna die. Gonna live to a gummy, bat-faced old age.”
“Spike.” Funny how this one little girl could bring him, the Big Bad, to heel with one shaky, censure-filled word.
Spike drew in one big breath and exhaled it, squeezing her close. “Could be dusted any day I step out the door, sweet. You’re right about that. But not tonight. And not anytime soon, if I have any say in it. Okay?”
It shouldn’t have reassured her. He wasn’t reassured. But she nodded against his chest and quieted. Perhaps a lifetime of pretty lies and fake memories had given Dawn a taste for blunt honesty. Perhaps that’s why this perfect little creature had fallen in love with him, of all people.
When Dawn finally fell hiccoughing into an uneasy rhythm of sleep, Spike tucked the covers up around them and let himself rest as well.
~*~*~*~
there's more where that came from...
vamptastica assures me that it does not suck. Therefore, I post. But it’s, uh…gratuitously long. lol.Oh and
burnzitt? Looks like you got what you were after, with the bloodplay. And that’s official warning for the rest of you folks. lol. Oh and also? This is nom’d at the Forbidden Awards! Thanks bunches to whoever did that. nom’d for the Bliss Award (best het) and the Naughty Virgin Award (best new fic by a new writer)
Title: Strength in Numbers
Author: Mel (
btvslover82)Pairings: Spike/Dawn for the first few installments and pretty much throughout; later, also Spike/Angel, Angel/Dawn, and eventually S/A/D. References to A/B and S/B.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The nerds were successful in assassinating Buffy in late season 6. This is the story of what happened after. See A/N under the cut for where it goes AU.
Warnings: sex with a minor (16yo at the youngest point), eventual slash, eventual threesome, character death (Buffy, that is…Dawn will not be turned)…errr….I dunno, they’re vampires. I don’t have any particular bloodplay planned, but I’m not ruling it out. eta: bloodplay, check. I repeat, we have bloodplay. lol.
Disclaimer: Joss would blush. I am, alas, still poor. don’t sue me.
Feedback: please!
Previous parts are here
Previously:
“Funny, but blinding brain-pain isn’t that romantic.”
“And yet, the fact remains.”
Dawn sighed dramatically and flopped her head onto her arms. “I told mom she should have let me take gymnastics.”
Spike was staring at her, trying to suss that nonsequitor out, brows low with confusion.
“A lot of girls these days don’t technically have their virginity by the time they do it the first time. Because we exercise and you know…stretch things.”
“Ah,” he said delicately. “Well, too bad for both of us, you are a sedentary sloth of a girl.” He sighed.
She hit him and he ducked playfully.
Dawn cuddled into him. “So we’re gonna do this.”
Spike inhaled the scent of her hair. “Sounds like.”
Dawn squeezed him. “Let’s do it tomorrow, k? I don’t wanna wait.”
“Whatever you want, pidge.”
part 6
The next night, Spike insisted on taking Dawn out to dinner. They never went out together, because Dawn didn’t like to leave the apartment these days, and Spike indulged her in that, as he did in so many things. But tonight, he said that he wanted to make things special, and he seemed so jittery about the whole thing that Dawn found herself unable to refuse.
She thought Spike was more nervous about taking her virginity than she was about giving it. He could be such a big softie. Not that she would tell him that.
They went to a fancy place. Dawn didn’t object, because she was well aware that their money wasn’t hard-earned. No need to scrimp and save. It took her forever to find something in her wardrobe nice enough to wear to an expensive restaurant, and even when she did, the skirt was too short because she’d been growing. Not that Spike complained—leered, was more like. He did growl, though, when the waiter checked out her legs. The sound made her wet, and Spike’s eyes burned at hers knowingly over the candle centerpiece.
Dawn settled back in her chair and crossed her legs, grinning secretly when his eyes followed the movement.
“So, William, what do you do?” she asked, formally.
Spike looked utterly confused, which made Dawn giggle. “What are you on about?”
“Well, this is our first date. I’m making first date talk.”
Spike grinned like the sun, but then his eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t give it up to some git on the first date, would you? If you do, he’d better hope I’m well dusted by then, because I’d rip his head off and—”
Dawn laughed, even though his raised voice had drawn attention from the neighboring tables, who were staring at him in horror.
“Relax, Spike, you’re scaring the humans,” she murmured, only loud enough for his ears. He looked around and sneered at the clientele, who hurriedly returned to their meals. “Besides, we’re never going to find out whether I would or not, are we? Only first date I’m interested in taking to bed is you.”
Spike’s eyes heated at her quiet declaration, and for a moment Dawn thought he was going to drag her out of the restaurant before their food could even arrive. But he settled back in his chair, determined to wine and dine her.
Actually, she wondered about the wine—just half a glass, he said. Dawn felt sure he must have threatened someone, for them to serve her alcohol. That or they thought he was her father…ok, not going there. Besides, he didn’t appear old enough to be her father, and he sure as hell didn’t look at her like a daddy. Well…actually….
“Well, Dawn, ‘m in the business of managing the flow of liquid assets.”
The statement pulled Dawn back from her nearly-dirty thoughts. After a moment of confusion, Dawn realized Spike was picking up the thread of her first-date game. She giggled at the cleverness of the answer.
“So, you’re like an investment banker,” she offered.
The candlelight flickered in his eyes as he gazed at her, eyelids low. He purred in his throat. Damn him. He knew what that did to her. “If you like. Know some ladies get all warm in their pink bits for the green stuff, though I didn’t take you for one of them.”
Dawn could feel her face warming, and her heartbeat racing, but she held his eyes. “No, there are other things that…get my pink bits warm.”
Spike’s eyebrow twitched with smug knowledge, and his white smile was devastatingly handsome. He was wearing a suit, and god only knows where he’d gotten that, but it was such a good look for him, so different and yet surprisingly fitting, and damned if Dawn wasn’t close to dragging him out of the restaurant before the food came. But if Spike of the black t-shirt had voluntarily put on a suit, for her, she was hardly going to cut the evening short.
But she might be forced to jump him in the car on the way home.
~*~*~*~
Dawn jumped him in the car on the way home.
Spike had both hands on the wheel at the time, so when the wine-warmed girl tore open the fly of his newly-stolen suit and started showing off every blowjob technique he had ever taught her, all he could do was squeak and try to pull her head off of his cock.
“Dawn, sweet, you’re going to make me crash the bloody car.” His voice sounded desperate even to his own ears.
Dawn looked up at him with those mischievous little-girl eyes that he couldn’t resist. “Did I mention how sexy you are in a suit?” She licked her lips.
He groaned softly. Bugger. “Erm…no, you didn’t, but you could just tell me instead of showing me on the interstate, luv.” Christ, did he just say that? When had he become such a git?
Dawn arched one carefully sculpted brow at him. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Where, indeed. He’d taught the girl well.
Spike lost that argument. Happily, and probably before it had even begun. But he did pull over to the side of the road, because, well—precious cargo.
And that wasn’t poncy. It was just romantic.
Just as it was romantic that when he finally got her home and into their bed, Spike took his sweet time worshiping Dawn with his hands and lips and tongue until she was limp with it. Savoring the softness of her skin against his calloused fingers. Enjoying the strong-sweet flavor of her on his tongue as he drove her to distraction. Loving the plaintiff sounds she cried for him as he drove her to come again and again….
“Spike, are you stalling?” Dawn panted out, somewhere after orgasm number 4.
Course she wouldn’t see how romantic he was being. She’d grown up in an era where she was ready to hop into bed with some investment banker pillock on the first date.
Ok, so he was stalling. And pouting about it in his head.
And yes, he did know that he was jealous of a fictional version of himself. But there were plenty of real investment bankers in LA, and Spike was all too aware that soon, he’d be standing in the path of another end-as-we-know-it. She’d be there with the greasy lot of them (though she didn’t know it yet), and they’d all want her because she was so bloody gorgeous.
Dawn smacked him on the shoulder. “Spike are you growling at me? It was just a question!”
…Seems as though he had been. Oops.
Spike crawled up Dawn’s body to settle, nude, on top of her curves. Her body radiated the heat she was generating, blood hovering beneath the surface in arousal despite her irritation. Any nervousness she had been feeling was long gone, by his own design. Dawn’s body was ready for him. Her heart was ready for him. Spike knew he should be ready too, but he wasn’t so sure. Not about making love with Dawn, but…Spike never set off the chip these days, but he hadn’t forgotten the blinding, nauseating pain. Further probing had confirmed that Dawn’s hymen was relatively thick, and Spike had no doubt he was in for a headache. And then he was going to lose his erection and disappoint her—and embarrass himself.
Still, he was acting like a wanker. He nuzzled her ear in apology.
“Sorry, Bit. Not you. ‘M just nervous.” It pained him to admit it out loud. He had a reputation to maintain, after all—but Spike could tell Dawn anything. This, he knew.
Dawn smiled at him indulgently. “I know. It’s really cute.” Just as Spike pouted over the term like a right nancy boy, Dawn saved him from his apparent determined to destroy his own self-respect by elaborating quickly: “But only because you’re such a badass the rest of the time.”
Spike knew she said it just to placate his self-image, and he smiled at her. “Thanks, kitten.”
“You’re welcome,” she acknowledged matter-of-factly. “So can you get on with it and shag my brains out now?”
Spike snorted. “And they say romance is dead. My words don’t sound right comin’ out of your mouth, you know.” Even so, he dipped his head into the hollow of her shoulder, inhaling the beguiling clean-girl scent of her. Enjoying her body’s unmasked tells of their foreplay—the rapid lub-dub, and the alluring scent. He looked up at her through his lashes. “Suppose I might as well, since I have you all warmed up for me.”
She giggled sweetly. “Might as well.”
Spike kissed her, softly, as he should. As he wanted to. They were both smiling.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, pet.”
“I want to give you something special.”
His eyes felt soft as he looked down at her. “You already are, you impatient little chit. I’m gettin’ to it.” They sounded like love-words, far more than they sounded like an admonishment.
Dawn smiled, sweetly nervous of a sudden. “No, that’s not what I mean. I’ve been thinking…it’s gonna set the chip off anyway, when you push inside of me?”
Spike’s hand rubbed gently over her cheek. “Don’t you worry about that, platelet.”
“Well…I am, but that’s not what I mean either,” Dawn rushed. “What I’m trying to say is…Iwantyoutodrinkfromme,” she blurted.
Spike frowned. “Say it again.” Oh, he’d heard. But he hadn’t believed.
“I want you to drink from me. I don’t know when we’ll get another chance. And it…I know you must want to. That’s what you would do, right? If we were together, and you didn’t have the chip? I read that in one of Giles’ books once while I was supposed to be looking up something lame. And I want you to have that…like you should. And I like the idea of it. Me in you, while you’re in me….” Dawn blushed crimson.
Well, how the bloody hell was he going to say no to that? Truth was, he’d been having near-wet dreams about for weeks. It was yet another part of himself he’d lost a claim to, the sharing of blood with a lover, and just like the desire to hunt prey, Dawn wanted to give the ability back. If only for this time.
Spike had a vague feeling he was supposed to say no, on account of it being a bad idea to turn on any bloodlust towards her. The voice sounded suspiciously like Peaches. And Spike had no doubt he would lust…her blood would taste like innocence and ancient power and love, and Dawn. He had no doubt it would be one of the best things he’d ever had in his mouth.
But the chip would remain, and even if he wanted to bite her, he’d be unable. And when was the last time he’d minded his bloody sire, anyway?
When Spike got out of the bed and went to the living room to rummage for something, Dawn sat up in bed.
“Wait, no! Spike, forget I said anything. I get that you don’t want to do that, and I….” Her face crumpled in confusion. “A hammer?”
She was beautifully unselfconscious, uncovered, as she looked at the object in his hands with utter distraction. Dawn searched his face as he crawled onto the bed. “Um, Spike, why are you bringing a hammer to bed?”
“Because you’re a tasty bit that I can’t refuse.” Spike dropped a kiss on her flushed lips. “Look here, pet. You’re going to taste right delicious, and there’s a small chance I won’t want to stop. If I lose myself, I want you to kosh me in the skull with this. Just mind not to hit yourself with the follow-through.”
Dawn blinked up at him.
“Don’t be overeager about it or nothin’. If I go at you for more than, say, sixty seconds, or if you start to feel fuzzy in your vision, ok?”
Her eyes ticked back to the hammer.
“Dawn,” he said gently, “you have to promise. Or if you’d rather, we won’t do it at all.”
“No,” she said, “I’ll do it.”
Spike kissed her. “Good girl.” He lay the hammer in her hand and wrapped her slender fingers around it.
Spike crawled back between her legs and kissed her throat gently, worshipping her offering. “Now that I’ve scared the holy hell out of you, we can get down to brass tacks.” He nipped at her chin and she giggled.
“Can see I didn’t deter myself any, hey?” Spike rubbed his erection against her and she gave him a lopsided grin, breath hitching. He captured her mouth and rocked his hips against her as he kissed her passionately, adjusting himself so that he was rubbing against her still-sensitive clit. Dawn moaned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hammer bumping against the bed on the other side.
She held onto it. Good girl.
Soon they were both worked up to a lather again—he and Dawn had enough chemistry to blow up the whole bloody laboratory. He was sliding through Dawn’s wetness, and she was whimpering and rubbing herself back against him. When his cock bumped unerringly against her opening and Dawn bore down on it eagerly, Spike pulled back from their kiss to speak.
“Ok, dove. This has to be quick, like a band-aid, right? Or it might never get done. I wish I could—” He paused, studying her face, which was open and vulnerable. “Right, well I’m not gonna bite, just gonna scratch you. Don’t forget—”
“I know, I know. If you get fresh, pow with the hammer.” Dawn rolled her eyes with more bravado than he knew she was feeling, and Spike teasingly nipped her lip in censure.
“Right. Less talk, more action.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Dawn giggled, but he heard her heart pick up as she grew wetter at the thought of it.
Kissing her gently, Spike aligned himself and eased into her body as far as he could without obstruction, feeling her stretch around him, wet and lush and so snug he thought that might set the chip off. Dawn’s breath fluttered in her chest in discomfort, and Spike murmured encouragement to her, anticipating the pain for both of them and wishing they could do this some other way. His hand stroked her cheek as he tilted her head to expose her neck properly, and then he vamped. Before he could chicken out, he slammed his hips home.
The shock to his brain was familiar by now, though no less blinding and excruciating than he had remembered. His field of vision flared white, and he was insensible enough for a time that he didn’t hear himself scream.
When Spike came back from the pain enough to be aware of smell and sensation, the first thing that drew his attention was the scent of fresh, ripe blood before him. It called to him, whispered to his instinct to drink and be healed, far before he felt the tight sheath around his softening cock, or the way Dawn trembled against him.
Spike latched onto the cut he’d managed to make on her throat, and as he swallowed down the elixir of Dawn’s life force, the throb in his skull subsided and he felt himself harden again. Dawn tasted strongly of fear, and though he usually savored the flavor in victims, hers tasted sickening on his tongue. She shouldn’t taste like fear, with him. She should taste like love, and sweet, happy things. Spike petted reassuring hands down her body in long strokes, from her cupped face to her long legs wrapped around his hips. Gradually, Dawn’s body relaxed and the tang of fear subsided.
He’d been right that she tasted like bloody heaven. Close as he’d ever get, anyway. Spike’s hips rocked gently against her as he pulled at her blood, his eyes shifting under his lids.
There was the innocence—the syrupy flavor of her virginity that would linger until they completed the act. It was oversweet, like honeysuckle on his tongue. The saccharine flavor was balanced out by the spice of desire that pumped there as well, hot and wild and heady. Dawn tasted like someone innocent of body but not of mind—which Spike ruddy well knew she wasn’t, since he’d assisted in the formation of nearly every dirty thought in her head. And both the sugar and the spice were tempered by her love for him, soft as rose petals on his tongue.
But what bowled Spike over with bloodlust was the ancient mystical power running through the veins of this small slip of a human girl. He’d never had anything like it—savory and sensual and utterly intoxicating. Spike could get drunk off of Dawn, moreso than he ever had from Jack Daniels. And it tingled in his veins, as though it were not just restorative but able to improve him, somehow. It was incredibly erotic.
Dimly, Spike became aware that Dawn was hitting him in the shoulder with one small fist. As he forced himself to tune into the sensation, he realized she was calling his name with a little panic, as well. Reluctantly, he released his grip on her vein and slipped one thumb across, to staunch off the temptation while he ran reassuring kisses over her throat in apology. Her fingers were white-knuckled on the hammer he had given her.
Spike nuzzled at Dawn’s mouth. “Sok, poppet. So sorry, love, you’re ok.” He petted her soothingly. Wiped at her tears. Gave her the barest kiss before she pulled back. Briefly, he thought he had gone too far, and frightened her too much for them to continue. But then she dropped the hammer to the bed, and ran fluttery fingers against his scalp.
Dawn looked to be on the verge of tears. “You screamed. I was so worried for you,” she waivered.
Spike huffed out a tender laugh that she was concerned for him, when she was the one with a demon at her throat. He was grateful and over the moon and still quite giddy on the taste of her.
“No reason to worry, pet. You fixed me up proper,” he soothed gently. “All healed, see?” He flexed into her, leering, and paused. The closely-hugging passage was fairly dry now, from pain or fear or general distress.
Spike kissed the clotted mark he’d created on her neck. “Be right back,” he winked, before withdrawing and slipping down her body. Spike was still buzzing on the heady mixture of her blood and he tended her clit with serious enthusiasm and devotion. Worship, even. Dawn tasted faintly of virginal blood there as well, and her needy reaction inflamed him as her back arched from the bed and she mewled his name, legs shifting restlessly against his ears.
When her arousal was free-flowing once again, Spike shifted upwards to nuzzle at Dawn’s tender, soft belly, and then the curve of her breasts. When he settled his weight back onto her body, she wrapped warm arms around him and they snogged for a long time, reassuring one another. This time they were kissing as he eased into her slick passage. He felt her tighten with discomfort, and held himself still.
Dawn broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to his. “I like this time much better,” she laughed, and he agreed with her. Despite the lure of her blood, he’d far rather she laugh when he took her than cry.
“Better?” he asked after a moment, and Dawn shifted restlessly, and nodded. Spike watched her face as he withdrew and reentered slowly. She flushed and bit her lip. He began to roll his hips, building a gradual rhythm, and Dawn began to pant.
“Oh,” she moaned as he angled to stimulate her clit. “Ohhh, that’s good.” He grinned into her throat and gave her ass a loving grope. She felt so bloody good. Plush, inside. Hot for him. Her walls clutched at his cock in a way that made him cross-eyed. It had been so long, and this wasn’t just some fuck. It was Dawnie.
His mouth descended on hers as he truly started pounding into her, swallowing all of her breathy exclamations. His tongue stroked her mouth as his hands stroked over every inch of sweaty, overheated flesh. Her heart was thumping like to climb out of her chest, and she was so slick for him, the snug fit was no issue at all.
So much for worrying about her enjoying herself.
Her hips started twisting up into his, legs wrapped tight, and he let go of her mouth for a moan of his own. “God yeah Dawn. Just like that, pet. That’s my good girl. Here—”
He paused in his motion to hitch one of her legs over his shoulder. Gymnastics or no, she was a bendy little thing. When he started to stroke back into her, fast and hard and certain, Dawn’s whole body tensed rigid, and her kitten-claws curled into his back. The token amount of pain made him bite his lip and groan.
“Oh!” Her blue-gray eyes were open, but glazed. Her breathing was labored. “Oh God, Spike that’s—you’re….”
“Hitting the spot, yeah?”
“It’s…is it a sss….” She broke off and panted like she was hyperventilating, and he chuckled.
His humor was short-lived though, because just then she wailed, and threw her head back, and pulled so hard on his hair that he thought he’d go bald, but bloody hell, who cared. Because the pain was good, but the short hard strong contractions that snuck up around his cock were better, especially when it seemed they would never stop, as long as he kept hammering up against her happy place inside. But much as he’d like, he couldn’t keep on forever, because Dawn seemed on the verge of going stark raving mad, and Spike liked his hair where it was, and anyway, his balls were drawing up tight and that familiar haze was coming up over his mind, and—holy dear mother of fuck, maybe if he was a good boy he could crawl up inside and stay here forever, because his brains were coming right out his cock anyway, and he should really remain there with them.
Panting, Spike collapsed carefully onto her body, and unable to seehearthink, he sought out Dawn’s lips for a slow, appreciative post-coital kiss. Her return effort rather lacked vigor, but he could sympathize. He rolled onto his back and settled her flushed little body atop him, petting the slick skin of her back.
“Wow,” she mumbled finally.
“Mmmm.”
“Tha wzz uhh—”
“Mmmhmmm,” he slurred. “Slow start. Strong finish. The judge from Russia gives it a 10, and he’s a stingy bastard.”
Dawn giggled, and he smiled and kissed the top of her head, and then Spike fell asleep to the quiet rhythm of her heart.
~*~*~*~
They dozed for a time. He was awoken by the sound of Dawn snuffling against his chest.
Spike rubbed a hand along her back. “What’s wrong, pet?”
Dawn turned her head to the side, leaking saltwater all over his skin. “I miss mom,” she sobbed.
Spike drew in a long steadying breath, closed his eyes and squeezed her as tight as he dared. “’M sorry for that, kitten.”
He rocked her while she cried her eyes dry. Of course a girl would miss her mum at a time like this. His heart swelled for her, and he wondered if she didn’t miss her sis too, but it was just easier to express it for Joyce. Especially in light of what she’d just shared with him.
She wept until she was hoarse. Spike has seen enough grief in his time, caused a lot of it but felt enough himself, that he didn’t try to say anything beyond a few senseless little nothings murmured in her ear.
Just when he thought she was winding down, she snuffled something into his chest that made him ache, top to toe.
“I don’t want you to die.” The declaration was so tiny, so desperate, that all Spike wanted was to physically pummel whatever made her feel this way.
But he couldn’t. So instead, he cracked a joke. “Already dead, nibblet. Remember? Comes in handy, not needin’ to breathe.”
He felt like a real git when Dawn burst into tears all over again. He sighed and cradled his palm against the curve of her skull.
“There, there, pet. Not gonna die. Gonna live to a gummy, bat-faced old age.”
“Spike.” Funny how this one little girl could bring him, the Big Bad, to heel with one shaky, censure-filled word.
Spike drew in one big breath and exhaled it, squeezing her close. “Could be dusted any day I step out the door, sweet. You’re right about that. But not tonight. And not anytime soon, if I have any say in it. Okay?”
It shouldn’t have reassured her. He wasn’t reassured. But she nodded against his chest and quieted. Perhaps a lifetime of pretty lies and fake memories had given Dawn a taste for blunt honesty. Perhaps that’s why this perfect little creature had fallen in love with him, of all people.
When Dawn finally fell hiccoughing into an uneasy rhythm of sleep, Spike tucked the covers up around them and let himself rest as well.
~*~*~*~
there's more where that came from...
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Date: 2006-07-23 04:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-23 05:55 pm (UTC)glad you liked it. the hammer was, lol. I just thought that was so Spike, you know? they're being all romantic, and then he's like, don't kosh yourself on the head with it.
this so wasn't the sex scene I set out to write. but then it just kinda happened this way. but it felt right to me, given the comfort level they have with each other.
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Date: 2006-07-23 06:49 pm (UTC)Yeah, I love these new icons I found. The icon maker is amazing!