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essene_backupIt's a train ride to hell and I'm handing out passes!
For those of our passengers who are just joining us, here are our previous stops:
The dirty bit that started it all:
Shame on diva_stardust
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
And the next station on the ride of dirty good fun:
She waved one last time to Buffy and her mom--Dawn would never figure out why her mom let Buffy drive, she was scarier than all the demons in Sunnydale when she was behind the wheel--and headed for the library doors. Checking over her shoulder, she made sure they were out of sight and ducked around the corner of the library and headed for the crypt.
She entered as silently as the huge doors would allow and scanned the room. No Spike up here. She shrugged off her backpack, dug around inside, found what she wanted and started changing her clothes.
She'd never gone down the ladder in bare feet and the rungs were cold and painful no matter how she placed her foot. It was a relief to finally reach the floor. Padding around the rock wall she stopped, breathless at what faced her.
In the center of the gian bed, sprawled out, corner to corner was a nearly naked--at least as far as she could tell--Spike. His hair was unruly, his back was bare and there was this valley in the middle of it that led down, down, down and underneath the sheet. Her mouth was suddenly dry.
She backed into the wall and held herself there, trying to catch her breath and scolding her heart for beating so hard. She was sure that he could hear it.
But he didn't wake up.
Dawn crept over to the bed, her white nightgown flitting over her legs. She was just about to reach down and touch a lock of his hair--it looked so soft, so different from how he usually wore it--when...
"Dawn!" It was a short, sharp, bark.
And he was rolling over, dragging the sheet with him, moving to the far side of the bed. He was looking at her with those terrified eyes again. Damnit! She stamped her foot, clenched her hands, and then crawled onto the bed.
"What are you doing?" He demanded in a panicked whisper.
"I'm going to come and kiss you." She said it calmly, simply. Like there could be no other answer to his question.
He started shaking his head emphatically, "No. No." He even put a hand up as if to ward her off.
She just narrowed her eyes and kept moving. Dawn sidled up next to him. If he moved any farther he was going to fall off the bed. She put a hand on his chest. He stopped moving. The skin there was smooth, like it was draped over marble.
"I know you were in my room last night." She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek.
"I know what you did." She kissed his scarred eyebrow.
She moved to his earlobe, "I could smell it."
As she kissed the corner of his mouth she whispered, "I tasted it."
Spike groaned and captured her head and brought his lips down on hers.
It was just like the first time. The heat in her limbs the fire in her pussy. His tounge in her mouth.
He pulled her onto his lap. So much skin. She let her hands roam over it, touching every bit she could reach from fingertip to shoulder, neck to waist, chest to....
He broke away. Again. "We can not do this." His eyes looked at hers this time, moving back and forth rapidly.
"Why?" She really didn't understand. He felt so good to her. What could be wrong about that?
He laughed sharply, "There's a million bloody reasons. The least of which are: I'm about 115 years older than you are, you're sister's The Slayer, and I'm a vampire!"
"I don't care." And she didn't.
She'd actually thought about it. Buffy would never find out. She wasn't going to tell her, not ever. And the fact that Spike was a vampire...well, that had never really been an issue. He would never hurt her, and from what she'd overheard about the whole Angel/Buffy thing, she'd never have to make the awkward trip to the personal hygene aisle. As for the age thing...if she was old enough to do herself, why couldn't someone else help out? She looked at him, for a vamp who was 120+ years old, he had really aged well.
He had closed his eyes, scrunched them up actually. She traced them with a finger. "I don't care about all that. It doesn't make a difference. All I know is that I want to touch you. And I want you to touch me."
"Oh hell, bit." She could feel him growing underneath her bottom and she wiggled just a bit. "Oh, fuck."
She giggled and kissed him again murmuring, "That's the idea."
For those of our passengers who are just joining us, here are our previous stops:
The dirty bit that started it all:
Shame on diva_stardust
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
And the next station on the ride of dirty good fun:
She waved one last time to Buffy and her mom--Dawn would never figure out why her mom let Buffy drive, she was scarier than all the demons in Sunnydale when she was behind the wheel--and headed for the library doors. Checking over her shoulder, she made sure they were out of sight and ducked around the corner of the library and headed for the crypt.
She entered as silently as the huge doors would allow and scanned the room. No Spike up here. She shrugged off her backpack, dug around inside, found what she wanted and started changing her clothes.
She'd never gone down the ladder in bare feet and the rungs were cold and painful no matter how she placed her foot. It was a relief to finally reach the floor. Padding around the rock wall she stopped, breathless at what faced her.
In the center of the gian bed, sprawled out, corner to corner was a nearly naked--at least as far as she could tell--Spike. His hair was unruly, his back was bare and there was this valley in the middle of it that led down, down, down and underneath the sheet. Her mouth was suddenly dry.
She backed into the wall and held herself there, trying to catch her breath and scolding her heart for beating so hard. She was sure that he could hear it.
But he didn't wake up.
Dawn crept over to the bed, her white nightgown flitting over her legs. She was just about to reach down and touch a lock of his hair--it looked so soft, so different from how he usually wore it--when...
"Dawn!" It was a short, sharp, bark.
And he was rolling over, dragging the sheet with him, moving to the far side of the bed. He was looking at her with those terrified eyes again. Damnit! She stamped her foot, clenched her hands, and then crawled onto the bed.
"What are you doing?" He demanded in a panicked whisper.
"I'm going to come and kiss you." She said it calmly, simply. Like there could be no other answer to his question.
He started shaking his head emphatically, "No. No." He even put a hand up as if to ward her off.
She just narrowed her eyes and kept moving. Dawn sidled up next to him. If he moved any farther he was going to fall off the bed. She put a hand on his chest. He stopped moving. The skin there was smooth, like it was draped over marble.
"I know you were in my room last night." She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek.
"I know what you did." She kissed his scarred eyebrow.
She moved to his earlobe, "I could smell it."
As she kissed the corner of his mouth she whispered, "I tasted it."
Spike groaned and captured her head and brought his lips down on hers.
It was just like the first time. The heat in her limbs the fire in her pussy. His tounge in her mouth.
He pulled her onto his lap. So much skin. She let her hands roam over it, touching every bit she could reach from fingertip to shoulder, neck to waist, chest to....
He broke away. Again. "We can not do this." His eyes looked at hers this time, moving back and forth rapidly.
"Why?" She really didn't understand. He felt so good to her. What could be wrong about that?
He laughed sharply, "There's a million bloody reasons. The least of which are: I'm about 115 years older than you are, you're sister's The Slayer, and I'm a vampire!"
"I don't care." And she didn't.
She'd actually thought about it. Buffy would never find out. She wasn't going to tell her, not ever. And the fact that Spike was a vampire...well, that had never really been an issue. He would never hurt her, and from what she'd overheard about the whole Angel/Buffy thing, she'd never have to make the awkward trip to the personal hygene aisle. As for the age thing...if she was old enough to do herself, why couldn't someone else help out? She looked at him, for a vamp who was 120+ years old, he had really aged well.
He had closed his eyes, scrunched them up actually. She traced them with a finger. "I don't care about all that. It doesn't make a difference. All I know is that I want to touch you. And I want you to touch me."
"Oh hell, bit." She could feel him growing underneath her bottom and she wiggled just a bit. "Oh, fuck."
She giggled and kissed him again murmuring, "That's the idea."
no subject
Date: 2003-08-17 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-08-17 08:13 pm (UTC)