Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (tv) [AU]
Summary/Teaser: What if instead of going to the Scoobies when he gets chipped, Spike skulks around on his own? Years later he meets Dawn in a club.
Warnings: explicit het sex between a vampire and a minor
Spoilers: "Him" (BtVS 7.06)
Notes: Written for essene for bashipforever’s Spike/Dawn ficathon. The request was simply: sex, with the provisions of no non-con and no vamp!Dawn.
Word Count: 1480
Standard Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and co. own the characters, I’m just playing with them. I do, however, own this story, so don’t steal it. Archive it anywhere; just ask first.
Feedback is always appreciated. Make me blush with praise or rip apart the story with criticism, or both.
“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
Dawn had just walked into the Bronze and was heading toward the dance floor. She didn’t know if the question was aimed at her, but the throaty British accent turned her on, so she turned in the direction of the voice.
A tall slim man with bleached hair and a leather jacket was leaning against a wall. “Tight little outfit, looking to fuck anything that moved? You were glued to some guy in a letterman’s jacket before some other bird dragged you away.”
“Oh yeah, that was my -- friend. She thought the guy was a jerk.”
Spike laughed. “Sure she did. Bet she was just jealous he wasn’t dancing with her.”
Dawn smiled. “So you liked what you saw that night?” She was incredibly nervous but trying her best to hide it.
He leaned in closer. “I smell jailbait.”
She backed off nervously. “What are you, a cop or something? The Bronze is an all-ages club.”
Spike laughed again. “Me, a cop? Not bloody likely. You wouldn’t believe what I used to do to girls your age, though.”
“Why don’t you try me?”
“That an invitation?”
Dawn rocked back on her heels, trying to look aloof.
Spike put his hands on her shoulders and in the same movement kissed her on the mouth. She gasped and he put his tongue into her mouth.
They kissed passionately, almost violently, and Dawn gasped, almost forgetting to breathe through her nose. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she could feel none of his breath on her face.
She rubbed his back and sides and he pressed close to her, grinding against her. He held one hand on her back and his other hand slipped onto her buttocks.
Eventually he broke off the kiss and just held her close as she caught her breath. At first she felt awkward, like she should be making conversation or something, but she gradually grew comfortable with the rocking motion, the touching of skin to skin. The fact that his body didn’t seem to be radiating any heat should have been disconcerting, but in the hot and sweaty Bronze it was actually comforting.
He began to run his fingers through her hair, kissing the top of her head and her forehead, and the feeling of her long hair being softly pulled away from her sweaty back and falling back down again made her shiver. She turned her face up towards his and they began to kiss again.
His hands moved to her waist, sliding up her torso and stroking the fabric of her bra. She squirmed.
“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispered in her ear.
It was difficult to kiss and walk at the same time, but Spike always had one hand on her -- rubbing her back, stroking her hair. She had never felt so wanted.
When they entered a cemetery, Dawn tried to stifle a gasp. He must be a vampire. Was he going to kill her? She rationalized that if he had really wanted to kill her he would have done it already. Though maybe he enjoyed playing with his prey. Or maybe he was just really really goth. Maybe the cemetery was just a shortcut to a real apartment. She tried to slow her breathing, suspecting he could sense her elevated heart rate and not wanting to anger him into attacking. She could feel her body stiffening and tried to relax.
He stopped and turned toward her, taking her face in his hands and kissed her top lift very softly, then more firmly, almost pulling her face up towards his.
She wanted him to ask her if she wanted to come, even though she really didn’t know what her answer would be, but he just took her hand and began to walk again. She knew she should ask him -- where he lived, what his name was, something, anything... that she shouldn’t just be walking alone at night with a man she had just met, who was likely not even alive... But her lips had reciprocated, and she didn’t want to give that up, didn’t want to turn away from that.
They arrived at a crypt and she followed him down the narrow stone stairs into a dimly lit room. “You... live here.” She tried to not make it a question.
“A bloke’s home is his castle. Show some respect.” Spike’s banter came out sounding forced as he shrugged and tried to look nonchalant.
She nodded silently, lacking a witty comeback.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you in the way of refreshments.”
“Not often you have guests over, I see.”
“Didn’t say that. They’re just not usually interested in the contents of my refrigerator.” He moved close to her, slid his hands up under her shirt, and unclasped her bra.
“Would you like to see the bedroom?”
She trailed after him silently, down another set of stairs. An artificial lamp flickered, and she could see a cot pushed against the far corner of the room.
”Nothing much to look at, but the visitors aren’t usually interested in the decor.”
She nodded, solidifying her resolve that really this was what she wanted to do tonight.
Unsure of how to proceed, Dawn pulled her blouse up over her head. Spike shrugged off his duster, and she tossed her blouse on top of it.
He picked up her hands and moved them to the front of his white button-down shirt. She unbuttoned it slowly, her fingertips grazing his chest as she worked. Once it was unbuttoned he wasted no time in pulling it off.
She was going to explore his chest further, with her fingers and mouth, but he was already bending down, taking off her bra. He kissed her breasts gently, then harder, sucking on the flesh. She moaned softly.
He circled his arms around her ass and lifted her up. She yelped in surprise, and in a moment was plunked down on the cot.
Spike kissed her quickly on the mouth and then began to kiss her neck, licking slow circles and inhaling deeply. He moved down her torso and she swore she could feel teeth trailing against her skin. He reached the band of denim at her waist and looked up at her, licking his lips. She smiled weakly.
He kicked off his shoes and then stood up, quickly pulling off his pants -- though Dawn wondered how he managed that, as they seemed nearly glued on. He had pulled off what was on under his pants, as well -- assuming he had been wearing anything under there -- and Dawn drew back reflexively. She had never seen that part of a man before, and she was suddenly filled with terror.
Her back was against the wall, her knees drawn up in front of her. Spike sat down at her feet and touched her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.
“I-- Not so fast.” Her throat kept closing as she tried to speak.
“We’ll go slow.” He put his other hand on one of her knees, and slowly she exhaled and relaxed her legs.
He leaned over her and kissed her softly. Soon she was lying almost entirely flat, her head supported by a pillow, while he lay on top of her and they kissed.
After some time he broke off the kiss and sat up on one elbow. “Could you do something about the jeans?” he asked sheepishly. “They kinda chafe.” He gestured to his erect penis. Dawn blushed. She pulled off her sandals and then her jeans. She knew he was hoping she would take it all off, but she just wasn’t ready.
Spike sat looking at her for a moment. “I have an idea,” he said. He tugged at the waistband of her underwear. “I promise, I won’t hurt you.” Slowly, uncomfortably, she pulled them off, keeping her knees pulled up close to her chest to hide herself.
He rubbed her shoulders with both hands, then moved down to her breasts. She relaxed as her body warmed to his touch. He began to kiss her again, and soon she was flat on the bed. He slid his hand between her thighs, stroking the soft flesh. Her body began moving against his, her breath coming shorter, and he could feel her wetness.
He shifted so his penis was hard against her and she whispered, “Yes.”
He thrust into her and she gasped and he winced as the chip fired, but she held him close as he rocked against her.
And she lay, there, resting against his body, for a long time, until finally she started to nod off. Suddenly realizing where she was, she sat up. “I have to go, my -- ”
“Yeah, your friend.”
“I’m sorry, I --”
“It’s fine; go.” Spike tried to sound like he didn’t care.