Story: "With A Touch" - Spike/Dawn/Illyria - NC-17
Title: With A Touch
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: dubcon, m/f, f/f, explicit sex, suggested noncon
Characters: Dawn, Spike, Illyria
Fandom: After The Fall
Word count: 3,172
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Every time Spike stroked Dawn's hair, someone died. The last time he touched her, she was the one who died.
The sensation of someone slowly playing with her hair woke Dawn from a deep, dreamless sleep. It was something that Spike often did, or more accurately, what he used to do. It happened once, a very quick moment of sympathy when she found out her mother was dying, but no one would give her a straight story. Just for a second, his hand moved out and fingers softly moved through her hair. It was almost shocking, reminding her that she was real and noticed. She had looked up at him in surprise, and at the same time Spike must have realized what he'd done. His hand dropped away and he quickly lit up a cigarette, almost trying to play it off. It was his reaction that made her realize the action was genuine, and not just a play to make himself look better and get into her sister's pants. Buffy hadn't even been paying attention.
After Buffy died, it almost became a habit. It didn't happen at first. Nothing happened at first except for a lot of tears, and Spike disappeared for a while. She figured he was drinking in his crypt, probably crying, too, but she didn't have the energy to sneak out and check. But he never stayed gone for more than a couple days before he'd come back, even to just stand around looking absolutely miserable. She knew he just wanted to check in with them. He was the strongest person they had, so naturally he began patrolling regularly with the Scoobies. Then he started sitting with Dawn when the others were too busy to stick around.
The nights were too solemn when he was around. Everyone else tried to shake it off to a degree, but Spike wore his grief at all times, only overshadowed by his devout protectiveness over her. He almost insisted that she sleep on the couch, where he could keep an eye on her, but he never actually said it. Not like that would have made much of a difference, because she was almost grateful to curl up on the couch and pretend to sleep. She could lay still long enough until she was almost dozing off, and then there is was again. His hand would stroke over her head almost absently. It was a reassurance for both of them that the other was still there, still alive and real.
The last time she felt him stroke her hair, the touch was full of desperation and solid, shaking contact. She remembered that, and Spike trying to lift her up. She remembered not being able to see, and when she tried to breathe, she tasted blood. She didn't have the strength to even choke on it; it flowed freely from the corner of her mouth. Everything inside of her was ruined, but she couldn't feel it or anything else. All she felt was Spike desperately trying to hold onto her, and then nothing.
And then coldness so sweet it was like a drug inside of her. She woke up in Spike's arms again, and felt the flowering rebirth inside of her like a fire. He'd tried to pet her again then, but his trembling emotions sickened her when all she wanted to do was feed and forget. There was a whole new world like a whirlwind and she wanted to be caught in it. The world outside was literally on fire, literally gone to hell. It was a paradise singing to her to kill and take and never regret, but Spike wouldn't let her escape. He insisted on keeping her indoors, even physically holding onto her to keep her from leaving. Then he'd started hitting her, and Dawn suddenly had an attraction to being an indoor kitty.
Then he chained her to the bed, and she liked that bit the best.
Being freed from the confines of life and conscious was what made her life complete. She savored it, and adored the tragedy on Spike's face every time he visited her, though he tried to bury it. A vampire with a soul was even more of a joke now that she didn't have one. But despite the instinctual disgust she had for him, there was an overwhelming desire to drag him down with her and force him to taste the darkness again. She wanted to remind him how sweet it was not to worry about anything.
For some reason she was sure that if she could just get him to fuck her, he would lose his soul like Angel had lost his to Buffy. She knew he wasn't cursed, but somehow it would take away whatever reserve he had. He would punish her for corrupting him, but he would unchain her and then they would go out and feed on the terrified humans still scurrying around the ruined city like rats.
Dawn writhed on the bed for him, pulling at her chains if only to remind him how helpless she was, but he didn't bite. She tore off her clothes and made all of the purring, mewling noises that a vampire could make, but he ignored her, sitting close to her bedside - but never close enough to touch, no matter how hard she tried - and talking on end about how things were in Sunnydale. It was just a stream of babble, half of which she was sure he made up. It annoyed her to no end, wondering if he thought it would somehow bring the sweet, innocent little girl he remembered back to him. All she wanted to do was bite, fuck, cut, hit, scratch, and claw until his stubborn image of her as a little girl was destroyed. Vampire or not, she was fully grown when she turned up again. She knew how to fight, how to handle herself. She wasn't a kid.
And now he was stroking her hair again, something she deeply associated with death. This time it was the death of innocence. He was shedding who she used to be, finally done with his grief. As annoying as it was, she was still glad that he had finally come around. She stirred slowly, making soft, agreeable noises so she wouldn't spook him, and slowly opened her eyes. She was met by blue, but not the blue of Spike's eyes.
Illyria stilled her hand, strands of dark brown still delicately pinched between her fingers, her head cocked with curiosity. Her hand moved slightly, the strands falling back into place, and she curled her fingers thoughtfully. "He cares for you a great deal," she finally said. The way she spoke reminded Dawn of Anya, but far more regal.
"We go way back," Dawn replied, almost sarcastically while eyeing the other woman. By her vivid blue eyes, and the same blue in her hair and on her skin, she guessed she was a demon of some kind.
Illyria seemed taken back by that, and tried to understand how she would compare to a girl that Spike had a history with. "You consume all of his attention," she told Dawn in a dark, threatening voice. "I won't allow it."
Dawn sat up, the chains on her wrists clinking together as she moved. "What are you, his girlfriend? Funny, he never mentioned you."
Illyria ignored her, focusing her attention to Dawn's naked body. She ghosted a hand over the curve of Dawn's breast and down to her stomach, not touching. "He's full of lust," she stated. "It curls off of him when he fights, and when he watches me, and especially after he returns from seeing you."
"Yeah, he does that," Dawn sneered lightly, sensing that Illyria was dangerous, if a bit stupid about how things worked. "He's a vampire, and as much as he might try to pretend otherwise, we're programmed to feed and fight and fuck," she said, slithering closer to Illyria, until her chains stopped her. "The only reason I'm not trying to tear his throat out is because one of these days he's going to crack. He's gonna teach me what it's like to be a real vampire, and if not, then I've got enough of a clue of my own to remind him what a vampire is. But, whatever. I'll be his girl."
"You would permit him to own you?" Illyria questioned.
"In a way, yeah," Dawn agreed, shivering and stretching at the thought. Any touch would be good, and she anticipated an all-out brawl before Spike would crack and give her what she wanted. It was what she dreamed about. She knew she was a weaker vampire than he was, but the idea of being dominated by him was even more of a thrill, and she antagonized him with a passion whenever she could.
"He is my pet," Illyria stated indignantly. "I will not allow him to keep one of his own. But he's very disobedient. He would attempt to defy me."
"Oh really?" Dawn raised an eyebrow, letting her jealousy slip away to curiosity. "'Cause he's pretty much making me his pet already, keeping me chained to this bed and all. Maybe you should discipline him. I'd like to see that," Dawn purred softly, toes curling at the idea of this demoness turning dominatrix on Spike.
Illyria's nostrils flared as another wave of lust came off of the girl. She was just as bold as Spike, but even more forward about her sexuality, while Spike would never permit her the opportunity to explore that route with her. "I wish to keep you as my pet," she stated decisively.
It was Dawn's turn to tilt her head, intrigued by the suggestion. "I don't think Spike would be…" she trailed off, realizing that if it did piss off Spike, it could get her exactly what she wanted. She reached out a hand to touch Illyria, suddenly compelled, but her chains stopped her and she whimpered at the loss of touch. "What do pets do?"
"Whatever I desire," Illyria responded, sounding slightly annoyed.
"And do you?" Dawn asked, hungry to know. "Desire?" Illyria had no discernable scent, and no clues about how she felt.
"I wish to know more," Illyria responded, almost hesitant. "I wish to learn about this world, and this body with it's urges and its weaknesses."
"You mean physical urges," Dawn said, leaning against her chains.
"He refuses to pursue that with me," Illyria said. "His body warms, and still he turns from me, as if he could hide it."
"It's that martyr complex," Dawn informed her. "He's too busy drowning in guilt to let himself have any fun. Sounds like a bad pet. But me, I'll be so good for you."
"Spike has been a satisfactory companion."
Dawn laughed. "But not in the way you want. God, it's all foreign to you, isn't it? You don't even know what to ask for. How about I just show you how I like it, and you can see what you've been missing out on."
Illyria tilted her head in curiosity, watching as Dawn scooted back on the bed until her chains were slack and her back was against the pillows on the bed. She spread her thighs slightly, and Illyria caught a glimpse of darker skin, where her heat was concentrated, before Dawn's hand slipped in, blocking her view.
Dawn dipped her fingers between her legs, closing her eyes and rocking slightly at the first touch of her fingers against her clit. She absently stroked her fingers over her sex. She had been aroused for days in end it seemed, but had no idea that just talking to Illyria about pets and discipline would leave her so wet.
Her fingers slid through again and again until everything was slippery and her nerve endings were already going into overload. She groaned and bit her lip then, focusing on her own pleasure. The idea of being watched hit her, and her muscles pulsed, sending a delicious jolt through her. Dawn lifted her eyes to see Illyria watching silently, appearing dumbfounded but Dawn could tell that she was completely absorbed in the display.
She sat up on her knees, rocking gently and pressed two fingers hard against her pubic bone, imagining that it was the rough force Spike would use against her. They would fight, releasing each other's potent blood into the air, and like any vampire, he would harden from the very scent of it, and also the scent of her. It would be over then, but Spike would be so furious with her for pushing him over the edge. There would be nothing else for him to do but to try to teach her a lesson, even though it was exactly what she wanted.
Spike would win the fight easily and thrust her hard against the ground, pressing himself on top of her to enforce his show of domination over her. There would be no mistaking her arousal then, and he wouldn't be able to ignore it anymore. Dawn would turn her throat to him, an irresistible offering, and thrust up her hips against him to feel his arousal through his jeans, or reach a hand down and grab him, except that her wrists would be pinned under his hands. She'd be unable to move, and he would grind himself against her to assert his power over her.
Her thighs clenched at the sensations that thought brought to her. It would be a rough and hard encounter, tension built up from so many years of missed fulfillment, so many years where they were both overlooked and she was too young for him to even consider her. He would consider her then, spread out beneath him and nearly quivering for it. It would take only second for him to hurriedly undo his belt - she could even hear the soft clinging in her mind - and then he would take himself out and thrust into her without mercy. Dawn slipped two fingers down to her opening and thrust them in, imagining the same movement with something thicker filling her deeper than she could imagine. She clenched her hand between her thighs and began to slide her fingers in and out, the rest of her hand rubbing hard against her pubic bone, and her hips rocked into the pressure.
Dawn felt a touch on her knee, nearly startling. She opened her eyes to see Illyria settled in front of her, focused on Dawn's fingers buried in her cunt. Dawn responded to the light, insistent push, spreading her legs so Illyria could see every stroke and motion. She shivered, feeling so exposed under those unwavering eyes. Dawn sat back again, slowly lowering herself until she was resting on pillows, her hips still lifted, hand working slowly now to draw out the pleasure. Just knowing what she was doing made her dripping wet, and she felt that she would come at any moment. She had to force herself to lessen her movements to excruciatingly slow strokes.
More controlled and biting her lip to hold back, Dawn returned to her scene.
The first thrust into her would be brutal. The next dozen would be just as savage. Spike would release all of the animalistic rage he kept pent up inside of him. Every little annoyance over the years, all of his frustration would be taken out on her. He would focus on making her feel used, but she would whimper and writhe under him and love it, savoring every bruise left on her skin. It would be nothing but a blur of hard domination, until he forced her to such a powerful climax that she would lose control over her muscles. She would be left weak, and then he would slow down, merely drawing out every hard thrust so she could distinctly feel every inch of him inside, and he could fully enjoy feeling her muscles flutter around him.
Then it would happen. Spike's fingers would dig into her hips so hard that the bruises would stay visible for days. He'd pull her flush against him, and bite into her neck, at the same time pushing his hips hard against her.
Dawn pushed her fingers hard into her again and came, shaking as she rode it out. Her muscles pulsed, everything becoming hyper-sensitive as she climaxed, but she kept rocking into her hand, feeling every ripple as her muscles clenched involuntarily. She sound felt a second set of fingers slip into her folds and cried out, opening her eyes once again. Illyria moved her fingers slowly through the slickness, the movement turning more steady and relentless. Dawn stifled another cry and whimpered as she was forced over the edge again, almost painfully climaxing from the over stimulation. She didn't release until then that her other hand had gone to her neck, fingernails digging in hard at the moment she imagined Spike biting her.
Illyria's fingers still pushed into her. "Please," Dawn whimpered, wanting for Illyria to stop and let her recover. The touch did not end, however, but the pressure lessened, her fingers casually sliding through the wetness, continually stimulating her.
Dawn whimpered softly again as Illyria continued this, slowly moving to cover Dawn's body with her own. Dawn reached out and ran her hand over the hard leather binding of Illyria's suit. "Can you even feel that?" she asked, made sleepy in her post-orgasmic haze. "Does this thing come off?"
Illyria glanced down at herself for a second, then straddled Dawn's thighs. At the same time, the leather seemed to melt away, revealing pale skin stained with the familiar deep blue. Dawn hissed softly at the sight, reaching to cup the underside of a breast, and trace her fingers over Illyria's naked side. "Beautiful," she murmured, lifting her head to lick and taste the skin.
The demoness 'hmm'ed, rocking forward, and gave a downward stroke of her fingers against Dawn's clit, drawing out a shudder.
"This touch draws noise," Illyria stated, crooking her fingers against Dawn again, clearly enjoying the reaction.
"It's called ecstasy," Dawn mumbled, eyes rolling up and letting herself enjoy the sensation.
"It is not unlike the sounds of pain when I hit my pet," Illyria said. "Would this draw more sound from him?"
"Oh yeah," Dawn lazily smiled, eyes flicking back to Illyria. She stroked her palm over Illyria's stomach, venturing down to her hip and then back up her side. "You have to touch him differently, of course. I'm sure you could have him hard and begging for it in an instant."
Illyria lifted her chin, deeply pleased by that. "He would beg."
"You could remind him that he's your pet," Dawn suggested, eyes glimmering darkly at the scenario building in her head. "We'd both be your pets, forced to you whatever you demand," Dawn purred, snapping her teeth together suggestively.
Dawn suddenly sat up, chest pressing against Illyria's stomach. "Uh oh," she said, nuzzling her cheek against Illyria's side, her other arm wrapping around the blue waist. Illyria turned and looked, finding Spike standing at the doorway.
Dawn smirked. "Daddy's home."
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: dubcon, m/f, f/f, explicit sex, suggested noncon
Characters: Dawn, Spike, Illyria
Fandom: After The Fall
Word count: 3,172
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Every time Spike stroked Dawn's hair, someone died. The last time he touched her, she was the one who died.
The sensation of someone slowly playing with her hair woke Dawn from a deep, dreamless sleep. It was something that Spike often did, or more accurately, what he used to do. It happened once, a very quick moment of sympathy when she found out her mother was dying, but no one would give her a straight story. Just for a second, his hand moved out and fingers softly moved through her hair. It was almost shocking, reminding her that she was real and noticed. She had looked up at him in surprise, and at the same time Spike must have realized what he'd done. His hand dropped away and he quickly lit up a cigarette, almost trying to play it off. It was his reaction that made her realize the action was genuine, and not just a play to make himself look better and get into her sister's pants. Buffy hadn't even been paying attention.
After Buffy died, it almost became a habit. It didn't happen at first. Nothing happened at first except for a lot of tears, and Spike disappeared for a while. She figured he was drinking in his crypt, probably crying, too, but she didn't have the energy to sneak out and check. But he never stayed gone for more than a couple days before he'd come back, even to just stand around looking absolutely miserable. She knew he just wanted to check in with them. He was the strongest person they had, so naturally he began patrolling regularly with the Scoobies. Then he started sitting with Dawn when the others were too busy to stick around.
The nights were too solemn when he was around. Everyone else tried to shake it off to a degree, but Spike wore his grief at all times, only overshadowed by his devout protectiveness over her. He almost insisted that she sleep on the couch, where he could keep an eye on her, but he never actually said it. Not like that would have made much of a difference, because she was almost grateful to curl up on the couch and pretend to sleep. She could lay still long enough until she was almost dozing off, and then there is was again. His hand would stroke over her head almost absently. It was a reassurance for both of them that the other was still there, still alive and real.
The last time she felt him stroke her hair, the touch was full of desperation and solid, shaking contact. She remembered that, and Spike trying to lift her up. She remembered not being able to see, and when she tried to breathe, she tasted blood. She didn't have the strength to even choke on it; it flowed freely from the corner of her mouth. Everything inside of her was ruined, but she couldn't feel it or anything else. All she felt was Spike desperately trying to hold onto her, and then nothing.
And then coldness so sweet it was like a drug inside of her. She woke up in Spike's arms again, and felt the flowering rebirth inside of her like a fire. He'd tried to pet her again then, but his trembling emotions sickened her when all she wanted to do was feed and forget. There was a whole new world like a whirlwind and she wanted to be caught in it. The world outside was literally on fire, literally gone to hell. It was a paradise singing to her to kill and take and never regret, but Spike wouldn't let her escape. He insisted on keeping her indoors, even physically holding onto her to keep her from leaving. Then he'd started hitting her, and Dawn suddenly had an attraction to being an indoor kitty.
Then he chained her to the bed, and she liked that bit the best.
Being freed from the confines of life and conscious was what made her life complete. She savored it, and adored the tragedy on Spike's face every time he visited her, though he tried to bury it. A vampire with a soul was even more of a joke now that she didn't have one. But despite the instinctual disgust she had for him, there was an overwhelming desire to drag him down with her and force him to taste the darkness again. She wanted to remind him how sweet it was not to worry about anything.
For some reason she was sure that if she could just get him to fuck her, he would lose his soul like Angel had lost his to Buffy. She knew he wasn't cursed, but somehow it would take away whatever reserve he had. He would punish her for corrupting him, but he would unchain her and then they would go out and feed on the terrified humans still scurrying around the ruined city like rats.
Dawn writhed on the bed for him, pulling at her chains if only to remind him how helpless she was, but he didn't bite. She tore off her clothes and made all of the purring, mewling noises that a vampire could make, but he ignored her, sitting close to her bedside - but never close enough to touch, no matter how hard she tried - and talking on end about how things were in Sunnydale. It was just a stream of babble, half of which she was sure he made up. It annoyed her to no end, wondering if he thought it would somehow bring the sweet, innocent little girl he remembered back to him. All she wanted to do was bite, fuck, cut, hit, scratch, and claw until his stubborn image of her as a little girl was destroyed. Vampire or not, she was fully grown when she turned up again. She knew how to fight, how to handle herself. She wasn't a kid.
And now he was stroking her hair again, something she deeply associated with death. This time it was the death of innocence. He was shedding who she used to be, finally done with his grief. As annoying as it was, she was still glad that he had finally come around. She stirred slowly, making soft, agreeable noises so she wouldn't spook him, and slowly opened her eyes. She was met by blue, but not the blue of Spike's eyes.
Illyria stilled her hand, strands of dark brown still delicately pinched between her fingers, her head cocked with curiosity. Her hand moved slightly, the strands falling back into place, and she curled her fingers thoughtfully. "He cares for you a great deal," she finally said. The way she spoke reminded Dawn of Anya, but far more regal.
"We go way back," Dawn replied, almost sarcastically while eyeing the other woman. By her vivid blue eyes, and the same blue in her hair and on her skin, she guessed she was a demon of some kind.
Illyria seemed taken back by that, and tried to understand how she would compare to a girl that Spike had a history with. "You consume all of his attention," she told Dawn in a dark, threatening voice. "I won't allow it."
Dawn sat up, the chains on her wrists clinking together as she moved. "What are you, his girlfriend? Funny, he never mentioned you."
Illyria ignored her, focusing her attention to Dawn's naked body. She ghosted a hand over the curve of Dawn's breast and down to her stomach, not touching. "He's full of lust," she stated. "It curls off of him when he fights, and when he watches me, and especially after he returns from seeing you."
"Yeah, he does that," Dawn sneered lightly, sensing that Illyria was dangerous, if a bit stupid about how things worked. "He's a vampire, and as much as he might try to pretend otherwise, we're programmed to feed and fight and fuck," she said, slithering closer to Illyria, until her chains stopped her. "The only reason I'm not trying to tear his throat out is because one of these days he's going to crack. He's gonna teach me what it's like to be a real vampire, and if not, then I've got enough of a clue of my own to remind him what a vampire is. But, whatever. I'll be his girl."
"You would permit him to own you?" Illyria questioned.
"In a way, yeah," Dawn agreed, shivering and stretching at the thought. Any touch would be good, and she anticipated an all-out brawl before Spike would crack and give her what she wanted. It was what she dreamed about. She knew she was a weaker vampire than he was, but the idea of being dominated by him was even more of a thrill, and she antagonized him with a passion whenever she could.
"He is my pet," Illyria stated indignantly. "I will not allow him to keep one of his own. But he's very disobedient. He would attempt to defy me."
"Oh really?" Dawn raised an eyebrow, letting her jealousy slip away to curiosity. "'Cause he's pretty much making me his pet already, keeping me chained to this bed and all. Maybe you should discipline him. I'd like to see that," Dawn purred softly, toes curling at the idea of this demoness turning dominatrix on Spike.
Illyria's nostrils flared as another wave of lust came off of the girl. She was just as bold as Spike, but even more forward about her sexuality, while Spike would never permit her the opportunity to explore that route with her. "I wish to keep you as my pet," she stated decisively.
It was Dawn's turn to tilt her head, intrigued by the suggestion. "I don't think Spike would be…" she trailed off, realizing that if it did piss off Spike, it could get her exactly what she wanted. She reached out a hand to touch Illyria, suddenly compelled, but her chains stopped her and she whimpered at the loss of touch. "What do pets do?"
"Whatever I desire," Illyria responded, sounding slightly annoyed.
"And do you?" Dawn asked, hungry to know. "Desire?" Illyria had no discernable scent, and no clues about how she felt.
"I wish to know more," Illyria responded, almost hesitant. "I wish to learn about this world, and this body with it's urges and its weaknesses."
"You mean physical urges," Dawn said, leaning against her chains.
"He refuses to pursue that with me," Illyria said. "His body warms, and still he turns from me, as if he could hide it."
"It's that martyr complex," Dawn informed her. "He's too busy drowning in guilt to let himself have any fun. Sounds like a bad pet. But me, I'll be so good for you."
"Spike has been a satisfactory companion."
Dawn laughed. "But not in the way you want. God, it's all foreign to you, isn't it? You don't even know what to ask for. How about I just show you how I like it, and you can see what you've been missing out on."
Illyria tilted her head in curiosity, watching as Dawn scooted back on the bed until her chains were slack and her back was against the pillows on the bed. She spread her thighs slightly, and Illyria caught a glimpse of darker skin, where her heat was concentrated, before Dawn's hand slipped in, blocking her view.
Dawn dipped her fingers between her legs, closing her eyes and rocking slightly at the first touch of her fingers against her clit. She absently stroked her fingers over her sex. She had been aroused for days in end it seemed, but had no idea that just talking to Illyria about pets and discipline would leave her so wet.
Her fingers slid through again and again until everything was slippery and her nerve endings were already going into overload. She groaned and bit her lip then, focusing on her own pleasure. The idea of being watched hit her, and her muscles pulsed, sending a delicious jolt through her. Dawn lifted her eyes to see Illyria watching silently, appearing dumbfounded but Dawn could tell that she was completely absorbed in the display.
She sat up on her knees, rocking gently and pressed two fingers hard against her pubic bone, imagining that it was the rough force Spike would use against her. They would fight, releasing each other's potent blood into the air, and like any vampire, he would harden from the very scent of it, and also the scent of her. It would be over then, but Spike would be so furious with her for pushing him over the edge. There would be nothing else for him to do but to try to teach her a lesson, even though it was exactly what she wanted.
Spike would win the fight easily and thrust her hard against the ground, pressing himself on top of her to enforce his show of domination over her. There would be no mistaking her arousal then, and he wouldn't be able to ignore it anymore. Dawn would turn her throat to him, an irresistible offering, and thrust up her hips against him to feel his arousal through his jeans, or reach a hand down and grab him, except that her wrists would be pinned under his hands. She'd be unable to move, and he would grind himself against her to assert his power over her.
Her thighs clenched at the sensations that thought brought to her. It would be a rough and hard encounter, tension built up from so many years of missed fulfillment, so many years where they were both overlooked and she was too young for him to even consider her. He would consider her then, spread out beneath him and nearly quivering for it. It would take only second for him to hurriedly undo his belt - she could even hear the soft clinging in her mind - and then he would take himself out and thrust into her without mercy. Dawn slipped two fingers down to her opening and thrust them in, imagining the same movement with something thicker filling her deeper than she could imagine. She clenched her hand between her thighs and began to slide her fingers in and out, the rest of her hand rubbing hard against her pubic bone, and her hips rocked into the pressure.
Dawn felt a touch on her knee, nearly startling. She opened her eyes to see Illyria settled in front of her, focused on Dawn's fingers buried in her cunt. Dawn responded to the light, insistent push, spreading her legs so Illyria could see every stroke and motion. She shivered, feeling so exposed under those unwavering eyes. Dawn sat back again, slowly lowering herself until she was resting on pillows, her hips still lifted, hand working slowly now to draw out the pleasure. Just knowing what she was doing made her dripping wet, and she felt that she would come at any moment. She had to force herself to lessen her movements to excruciatingly slow strokes.
More controlled and biting her lip to hold back, Dawn returned to her scene.
The first thrust into her would be brutal. The next dozen would be just as savage. Spike would release all of the animalistic rage he kept pent up inside of him. Every little annoyance over the years, all of his frustration would be taken out on her. He would focus on making her feel used, but she would whimper and writhe under him and love it, savoring every bruise left on her skin. It would be nothing but a blur of hard domination, until he forced her to such a powerful climax that she would lose control over her muscles. She would be left weak, and then he would slow down, merely drawing out every hard thrust so she could distinctly feel every inch of him inside, and he could fully enjoy feeling her muscles flutter around him.
Then it would happen. Spike's fingers would dig into her hips so hard that the bruises would stay visible for days. He'd pull her flush against him, and bite into her neck, at the same time pushing his hips hard against her.
Dawn pushed her fingers hard into her again and came, shaking as she rode it out. Her muscles pulsed, everything becoming hyper-sensitive as she climaxed, but she kept rocking into her hand, feeling every ripple as her muscles clenched involuntarily. She sound felt a second set of fingers slip into her folds and cried out, opening her eyes once again. Illyria moved her fingers slowly through the slickness, the movement turning more steady and relentless. Dawn stifled another cry and whimpered as she was forced over the edge again, almost painfully climaxing from the over stimulation. She didn't release until then that her other hand had gone to her neck, fingernails digging in hard at the moment she imagined Spike biting her.
Illyria's fingers still pushed into her. "Please," Dawn whimpered, wanting for Illyria to stop and let her recover. The touch did not end, however, but the pressure lessened, her fingers casually sliding through the wetness, continually stimulating her.
Dawn whimpered softly again as Illyria continued this, slowly moving to cover Dawn's body with her own. Dawn reached out and ran her hand over the hard leather binding of Illyria's suit. "Can you even feel that?" she asked, made sleepy in her post-orgasmic haze. "Does this thing come off?"
Illyria glanced down at herself for a second, then straddled Dawn's thighs. At the same time, the leather seemed to melt away, revealing pale skin stained with the familiar deep blue. Dawn hissed softly at the sight, reaching to cup the underside of a breast, and trace her fingers over Illyria's naked side. "Beautiful," she murmured, lifting her head to lick and taste the skin.
The demoness 'hmm'ed, rocking forward, and gave a downward stroke of her fingers against Dawn's clit, drawing out a shudder.
"This touch draws noise," Illyria stated, crooking her fingers against Dawn again, clearly enjoying the reaction.
"It's called ecstasy," Dawn mumbled, eyes rolling up and letting herself enjoy the sensation.
"It is not unlike the sounds of pain when I hit my pet," Illyria said. "Would this draw more sound from him?"
"Oh yeah," Dawn lazily smiled, eyes flicking back to Illyria. She stroked her palm over Illyria's stomach, venturing down to her hip and then back up her side. "You have to touch him differently, of course. I'm sure you could have him hard and begging for it in an instant."
Illyria lifted her chin, deeply pleased by that. "He would beg."
"You could remind him that he's your pet," Dawn suggested, eyes glimmering darkly at the scenario building in her head. "We'd both be your pets, forced to you whatever you demand," Dawn purred, snapping her teeth together suggestively.
Dawn suddenly sat up, chest pressing against Illyria's stomach. "Uh oh," she said, nuzzling her cheek against Illyria's side, her other arm wrapping around the blue waist. Illyria turned and looked, finding Spike standing at the doorway.
Dawn smirked. "Daddy's home."