BtVS fic: Undercover, Lilah/Sunday
Title: Undercover
Author: escritoireazul
Author's Note: This is a transformative work of fiction for the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This story plays fast and loose with the timeline.
Written for: Snogged for femslash_minis Round 33 Bad Girls. Snogged requested Lilah/Sunday, derision, leather duster, and frat party.
Rating: 16+ for sex
Word Count: 1700
Summary: When a partner tells you to jump, you jump. When a partner tells you to visit UC Sunnydale, it's probably smart to stay away from the vampires, but not nearly as fun.
Lilah does not enjoy frat parties.
When she was in undergrad, she was too busy working on concurrent political science and philosophy degrees to have much free time, and even if she had the time, she had no interest in drunken shenanigans with people who cared less about the power they wielded in the world than about who could win beer pong.
Now she’s older than almost everyone at the party -- except the vampires, perhaps, and there are vampires -- and has even less interest in this sort of thing. But when a first year associate at Wolfram & Hart is told to jump, she jumps.
(Literally sometimes. Two weeks ago, Lilah and the other first years watched as Charles Emerson Winchester V leaped into a pit of darkness. She’s not sure which truth would be better; if the pit had a bottom and Charles died immediately upon hitting it or if it truly was bottomless. There are many layers of hell through which Lilah would much rather not pass.)
She doesn’t know why she’s here. All she’s told is to visit UC Sunnydale while the partners she’s traveling with have their business deals. There’s always something demonic brewing on a Hellmouth, especially one without a Vampire Slayer.
Many of the privileged students crowding into the frat house are the progeny of the people with whom the partners meet. She hasn’t been expressly ordered to find the weaknesses of the families, but that is always the goal. Those who know the weaknesses of others are those who will remain in power. Lilah was an excellent law student, top of her class, and she is an excellent lawyer, but the process has been painful and has worn her down inside. Tempered her, perhaps, but she has yet to prove it purged her weaknesses instead of breaking her where it can’t be seen but so she’ll fall apart nonetheless.
Lilah shakes away her thoughts and goes back to meandering through the house. She’s flirted with the frat boys and the sorority girls and kept away from the vampires. She has no interest in them really.
After a moment, she realizes someone is shadowing her movements. She turns slightly, watches herself in the mirror. No one lurking nearby. Stops to adjust the strap of her tiny tank top -- she may not like this sort of thing, but she knows how to put on a costume -- and glances to one side. There’s her shadow. Brittle blonde hair, dark make-up, lots of black and silver. She’s even wearing a black leather duster that skims the ground, just a little too big for her. She should look silly, like she’s playing dress up, but she doesn’t.
Vampire, Lilah thinks and as if she can read Lilah’s mind, she faces her and smiles.
~*~
Lilah isn’t running away from the vampire. She’s not. She avoids them all, but that’s because she has no use for them, not because she’s afraid. But everywhere she goes, that stupid girl follows. Not a single conversation is quiet enough the vampire can’t hear it.
She turns a corner and the vampire is right there in front of her, catching her off guard.
“Why are you stalking me?” Lilah asks and her voice lifts like she’s just a happy party girl.
“What’s your name?”
Lilah has half a dozen different names prepared, but instead she says the truth. “Lilah.”
“Languishing beauty of the night.” She laughs.
For a moment, Lilah wants to tell her to fuck off, but that’s not the way to play this. Nor is asking why she knows what Lilah's name means. “What’s yours?” she coos instead and leans forward, swaying. Just a pretty party girl drinking too much and flirting with everyone on two legs.
“Sunday.” She leans in close and winks. “Stop playing dumb and drunk. I know you’re not a student.” She sniffs. “You’re Wolfram & Hart’s girl.”
Lilah bristles a little. She is no girl, she is a grown woman. And she thought her cover was perfect. “I’m a student,” she says and six months ago, she was, and she thinks she sounds sincere.
“You’re not. I can smell it all over you, lawyer.”
She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Sunday leans closer still -- discomfortingly close, she’s less than a breath away from Lilah’s throat and Lilah has never felt so exposed -- and sniffs. “No way to miss it, expensive perfume and blood on parchment and fire and brimstone.”
That startles a laugh out of Lilah, but though the smirk curving up Sunday’s lips never fades, it’s clear she’s serious.
“Why do you care if I’m a student or not, vampire?” Lilah asks and crosses her arms over her chest. Most people would step back at that, but not Sunday. Sunday only tilts her head and gives Lilah a long, slow once over. Her eyes linger at Lilah’s throat and the shadow between her breasts.
“I eat students,” Sunday says and the sound she makes, this inhuman noise in her throat, makes Lilah’s teeth hurt.
“Good thing I’m not a student.” Lilah goes for confident and cocky, but she’s not sure she makes it. She takes a silent breath and squares her shoulders. She is a lawyer at Wolfram & Hart. That carries quite a bit of weight in the supernatural world. “You can’t touch me.”
“Oh sweetie, I’m going to touch you a lot.” Sunday’s lipstick is dark and her teeth very white against them. Lilah thinks she can watch each word drip from her lips. “Until you beg me. You see, students I eat. Lawyers I fuck.”
Despite her bravado, Lilah draws back at that, sucking in a sharp breath of air. At least her face stays calm, she thinks, but it’s not like she can pretend she doesn’t want what Sunday’s offering. Sunday sniffs the air, then draws it over her tongue, tasting Lilah’s arousal.
Even that is hot and Lilah’s clit throbs pleasantly.
Sunday’s grin goes wide. “Lawyer, I am going to make you scream.”
~*~
Lilah wraps her hands around the iron railing and holds on tight. The balcony is big and the lights spilling out onto the lawn from the windows beneath them don’t reach its darkness. The floor is wooden and scratches harshly at Lilah’s bare arms, but the rest of her feels so good she doesn’t care.
The really, really fantastic thing about vampires is they don’t have to breathe. They don’t have to breathe and Sunday has her face buried in Lilah’s cunt and three fingers shoved up inside her and her tongue is circling and circling Lilah’s clit. It’s never quite enough, she circles without touching and only sometimes flicks across the clit itself. Each time she does, Lilah arches up, thrusting her hips at Sunday’s face, but Sunday only chuckles -- that is something new and delicious, the rumble of a vampire’s laugh against her swollen, sensitive flesh -- and keeps her steady tormenting pace.
Her left hand is up under Lilah’s little co-ed tank top, inside her bra, twisting her nipples to hard, aching points. She pinches one sharply and Lilah sucks in a breath. It’s almost a noise, but not quite. She bites down hard on her lower lip, presses her tongue against her teeth.
She is not going to scream. She refuses.
Sunday shifts around, resettles herself between Lilah’s legs, and still her tongue circles. She spreads her fingers apart inside and curls them forward, the pads running against that sensitive spot behind Lilah’s clit. Lilah’s entire body lifts up. Maybe she’s levitating. Wouldn’t that be something new?
There’s a quick scrape of teeth against the edge of her clit, not enough to hurt, but it makes Lilah’s nerves buzz. Then Sunday runs her hand down Lilah’s body, drags her nails hard enough to leave red lines on her skin. It hurts, but when she stops touching, Lilah misses the pain.
Then Sunday wiggles a damp finger into Lilah’s ass and at the same time laves Lilah’s clit with the flat of her tongue. The pressures all feel multiplied -- tongue on the clit pushes against the fingers inside and then that slender finger in her ass, something Lilah, who is not a prude, she isn’t, she simply has standards, has never done -- and suddenly Lilah is coming.
She can hear someone screaming -- she can hear herself but it doesn’t feel like she’s really making those sounds -- and her body rocks hard up against Sunday’s. Sunday’s laughing between her legs and licking and twisting all her fingers and for a long moment, all Lilah knows is that rush of pleasure so good it hurts.
Eventually she realizes Sunday’s fingers aren’t inside her anymore and that Sunday is lazily licking her cunt, slipping between her lips, dipping inside. She groans and releases the bars. Her fingers are cramped. Her hips, too, from holding her legs so far apart.
“Fuck, that’s hot. You gonna make out now?”
Some drunken frat boy intrudes, and Lilah doesn’t care if this is his house or not, he needs to go away. She blinks at him in a haze of post-pleasure and tries to think of something cutting to say to send him on his way.
Sunday is on her feet in a blink, grabbing the boy, and though Lilah can’t see her face, the boy’s drunk-stoned noise means she looks like the monster she is. Lilah tilts back her head and stares up at the sky, ignoring the sounds Sunday makes as she feeds.
In L.A., the sky’s too bright and too polluted to see much of anything, but here in Sunnydale, she can see the stars.
“Wakey wakey.” Sunday crouches, legs on either side of Lilah’s body. There’s no blood on her face. Lilah glances at her lips quickly, but they’re clean. Still that dark red-black lipstick, though, so how can she tell.
She’d rather not think about that, not when Sunday is naked and lithe and she rocks forward, planting her knees next to Lilah’s head.
“Open that pretty mouth,” Sunday orders. “I’m teaching you how to eat pussy.”
Lilah arches an eyebrow. Stupid girl. As if Lilah knows nothing about sex. This isn’t her favorite position, but she’s not going to admit that to Sunday. Instead she cups her hands around Sunday’s ass and pulls her forward until she can curl her tongue into Sunday’s cunt.
She'll teach this girl a thing or two.
This entry was original posted at http://escritoireazul.dreamwidth.org/301104.html with
comments. Reply here or there.
Author: escritoireazul
Author's Note: This is a transformative work of fiction for the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This story plays fast and loose with the timeline.
Written for: Snogged for femslash_minis Round 33 Bad Girls. Snogged requested Lilah/Sunday, derision, leather duster, and frat party.
Rating: 16+ for sex
Word Count: 1700
Summary: When a partner tells you to jump, you jump. When a partner tells you to visit UC Sunnydale, it's probably smart to stay away from the vampires, but not nearly as fun.
Lilah does not enjoy frat parties.
When she was in undergrad, she was too busy working on concurrent political science and philosophy degrees to have much free time, and even if she had the time, she had no interest in drunken shenanigans with people who cared less about the power they wielded in the world than about who could win beer pong.
Now she’s older than almost everyone at the party -- except the vampires, perhaps, and there are vampires -- and has even less interest in this sort of thing. But when a first year associate at Wolfram & Hart is told to jump, she jumps.
(Literally sometimes. Two weeks ago, Lilah and the other first years watched as Charles Emerson Winchester V leaped into a pit of darkness. She’s not sure which truth would be better; if the pit had a bottom and Charles died immediately upon hitting it or if it truly was bottomless. There are many layers of hell through which Lilah would much rather not pass.)
She doesn’t know why she’s here. All she’s told is to visit UC Sunnydale while the partners she’s traveling with have their business deals. There’s always something demonic brewing on a Hellmouth, especially one without a Vampire Slayer.
Many of the privileged students crowding into the frat house are the progeny of the people with whom the partners meet. She hasn’t been expressly ordered to find the weaknesses of the families, but that is always the goal. Those who know the weaknesses of others are those who will remain in power. Lilah was an excellent law student, top of her class, and she is an excellent lawyer, but the process has been painful and has worn her down inside. Tempered her, perhaps, but she has yet to prove it purged her weaknesses instead of breaking her where it can’t be seen but so she’ll fall apart nonetheless.
Lilah shakes away her thoughts and goes back to meandering through the house. She’s flirted with the frat boys and the sorority girls and kept away from the vampires. She has no interest in them really.
After a moment, she realizes someone is shadowing her movements. She turns slightly, watches herself in the mirror. No one lurking nearby. Stops to adjust the strap of her tiny tank top -- she may not like this sort of thing, but she knows how to put on a costume -- and glances to one side. There’s her shadow. Brittle blonde hair, dark make-up, lots of black and silver. She’s even wearing a black leather duster that skims the ground, just a little too big for her. She should look silly, like she’s playing dress up, but she doesn’t.
Vampire, Lilah thinks and as if she can read Lilah’s mind, she faces her and smiles.
~*~
Lilah isn’t running away from the vampire. She’s not. She avoids them all, but that’s because she has no use for them, not because she’s afraid. But everywhere she goes, that stupid girl follows. Not a single conversation is quiet enough the vampire can’t hear it.
She turns a corner and the vampire is right there in front of her, catching her off guard.
“Why are you stalking me?” Lilah asks and her voice lifts like she’s just a happy party girl.
“What’s your name?”
Lilah has half a dozen different names prepared, but instead she says the truth. “Lilah.”
“Languishing beauty of the night.” She laughs.
For a moment, Lilah wants to tell her to fuck off, but that’s not the way to play this. Nor is asking why she knows what Lilah's name means. “What’s yours?” she coos instead and leans forward, swaying. Just a pretty party girl drinking too much and flirting with everyone on two legs.
“Sunday.” She leans in close and winks. “Stop playing dumb and drunk. I know you’re not a student.” She sniffs. “You’re Wolfram & Hart’s girl.”
Lilah bristles a little. She is no girl, she is a grown woman. And she thought her cover was perfect. “I’m a student,” she says and six months ago, she was, and she thinks she sounds sincere.
“You’re not. I can smell it all over you, lawyer.”
She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Sunday leans closer still -- discomfortingly close, she’s less than a breath away from Lilah’s throat and Lilah has never felt so exposed -- and sniffs. “No way to miss it, expensive perfume and blood on parchment and fire and brimstone.”
That startles a laugh out of Lilah, but though the smirk curving up Sunday’s lips never fades, it’s clear she’s serious.
“Why do you care if I’m a student or not, vampire?” Lilah asks and crosses her arms over her chest. Most people would step back at that, but not Sunday. Sunday only tilts her head and gives Lilah a long, slow once over. Her eyes linger at Lilah’s throat and the shadow between her breasts.
“I eat students,” Sunday says and the sound she makes, this inhuman noise in her throat, makes Lilah’s teeth hurt.
“Good thing I’m not a student.” Lilah goes for confident and cocky, but she’s not sure she makes it. She takes a silent breath and squares her shoulders. She is a lawyer at Wolfram & Hart. That carries quite a bit of weight in the supernatural world. “You can’t touch me.”
“Oh sweetie, I’m going to touch you a lot.” Sunday’s lipstick is dark and her teeth very white against them. Lilah thinks she can watch each word drip from her lips. “Until you beg me. You see, students I eat. Lawyers I fuck.”
Despite her bravado, Lilah draws back at that, sucking in a sharp breath of air. At least her face stays calm, she thinks, but it’s not like she can pretend she doesn’t want what Sunday’s offering. Sunday sniffs the air, then draws it over her tongue, tasting Lilah’s arousal.
Even that is hot and Lilah’s clit throbs pleasantly.
Sunday’s grin goes wide. “Lawyer, I am going to make you scream.”
~*~
Lilah wraps her hands around the iron railing and holds on tight. The balcony is big and the lights spilling out onto the lawn from the windows beneath them don’t reach its darkness. The floor is wooden and scratches harshly at Lilah’s bare arms, but the rest of her feels so good she doesn’t care.
The really, really fantastic thing about vampires is they don’t have to breathe. They don’t have to breathe and Sunday has her face buried in Lilah’s cunt and three fingers shoved up inside her and her tongue is circling and circling Lilah’s clit. It’s never quite enough, she circles without touching and only sometimes flicks across the clit itself. Each time she does, Lilah arches up, thrusting her hips at Sunday’s face, but Sunday only chuckles -- that is something new and delicious, the rumble of a vampire’s laugh against her swollen, sensitive flesh -- and keeps her steady tormenting pace.
Her left hand is up under Lilah’s little co-ed tank top, inside her bra, twisting her nipples to hard, aching points. She pinches one sharply and Lilah sucks in a breath. It’s almost a noise, but not quite. She bites down hard on her lower lip, presses her tongue against her teeth.
She is not going to scream. She refuses.
Sunday shifts around, resettles herself between Lilah’s legs, and still her tongue circles. She spreads her fingers apart inside and curls them forward, the pads running against that sensitive spot behind Lilah’s clit. Lilah’s entire body lifts up. Maybe she’s levitating. Wouldn’t that be something new?
There’s a quick scrape of teeth against the edge of her clit, not enough to hurt, but it makes Lilah’s nerves buzz. Then Sunday runs her hand down Lilah’s body, drags her nails hard enough to leave red lines on her skin. It hurts, but when she stops touching, Lilah misses the pain.
Then Sunday wiggles a damp finger into Lilah’s ass and at the same time laves Lilah’s clit with the flat of her tongue. The pressures all feel multiplied -- tongue on the clit pushes against the fingers inside and then that slender finger in her ass, something Lilah, who is not a prude, she isn’t, she simply has standards, has never done -- and suddenly Lilah is coming.
She can hear someone screaming -- she can hear herself but it doesn’t feel like she’s really making those sounds -- and her body rocks hard up against Sunday’s. Sunday’s laughing between her legs and licking and twisting all her fingers and for a long moment, all Lilah knows is that rush of pleasure so good it hurts.
Eventually she realizes Sunday’s fingers aren’t inside her anymore and that Sunday is lazily licking her cunt, slipping between her lips, dipping inside. She groans and releases the bars. Her fingers are cramped. Her hips, too, from holding her legs so far apart.
“Fuck, that’s hot. You gonna make out now?”
Some drunken frat boy intrudes, and Lilah doesn’t care if this is his house or not, he needs to go away. She blinks at him in a haze of post-pleasure and tries to think of something cutting to say to send him on his way.
Sunday is on her feet in a blink, grabbing the boy, and though Lilah can’t see her face, the boy’s drunk-stoned noise means she looks like the monster she is. Lilah tilts back her head and stares up at the sky, ignoring the sounds Sunday makes as she feeds.
In L.A., the sky’s too bright and too polluted to see much of anything, but here in Sunnydale, she can see the stars.
“Wakey wakey.” Sunday crouches, legs on either side of Lilah’s body. There’s no blood on her face. Lilah glances at her lips quickly, but they’re clean. Still that dark red-black lipstick, though, so how can she tell.
She’d rather not think about that, not when Sunday is naked and lithe and she rocks forward, planting her knees next to Lilah’s head.
“Open that pretty mouth,” Sunday orders. “I’m teaching you how to eat pussy.”
Lilah arches an eyebrow. Stupid girl. As if Lilah knows nothing about sex. This isn’t her favorite position, but she’s not going to admit that to Sunday. Instead she cups her hands around Sunday’s ass and pulls her forward until she can curl her tongue into Sunday’s cunt.
She'll teach this girl a thing or two.
This entry was original posted at http://escritoireazul.dreamwidth.org/301104.html with
comments. Reply here or there.