After Cleveland
folder
BtVS Crossovers › Misc - FemmeSlash - Female/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,479
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS Crossovers › Misc - FemmeSlash - Female/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,479
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
After Cleveland 3/4
TITLE: After Cleveland 3/4
SUMMARY: Dawn goes with Mathilda on a job. Things get ugly.
WARNING: F/F sex, violence, language.
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Everything BtVS and The Professional.
MUSE: Inspired by Joss and Luc.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, United Paramount Network, and Fox Television. The Professional and all associated characters are property of Columbia Pictures, Gaumont/Les Films du Dauphin, and Luc Besson. This work is not for profit, and no ownership of aforementioned copyrighted material implied, nor any infringement intended.
* * *
NOW:
The last few weeks had been going so well. Dawn and I had been spending almost all of our time together. The few times we weren't together were usually when I was Clea or or she was on some special Slayer patrol. The morning had been perfect: waking up in her arms, feeling wanted. Needed. Loved.
I should have known shit would go sideways.
* * *
THIS MORNING:
"So can I go?" Dawn was twirling some of my hair around her finger. I love it when she does that.
"You want to help me Clean?"
"Well, more like watch your back; make sure nothing happens to you."
"I'll think about it." I lay back on the sheets (red, silky) and looked around the room. It was not as barren--Spartan, Dawn had called it--as when she moved in. Sheets for the bed; one set of red and another set of black. And pillows. Leon wouldn't have approved, especially not of a Cleaner sleeping in a bed. The thought brought a twinge to my heart.
Pictures of Dawn and me from the booth at the arcade are tacked up on the wall. Us smiling, one where Dawn's tongue is in my ear, and the one where the camera caught us, lips touching on the way to a serious macking session. A poster of a band she loves: "Ghost of the Robot." A bag of Slayer gear is on the floor, next to my case. Way to many girly clothes in the closet. Cosmetics on the bathroom counter, in the shower three different shampoos and two kinds of conditioner. We actually have more categories of laundry than just lights and darks. Leon wouldn't have approved of these, either.
I realize my Slayer has been watching me while I zoned out, and I look back into her eyes. "I guess."
"Oh, thank you thank you!" Her squeals are gonna damage my hearing, I swear.
* * *
EARLIER THIS EVENING:
"Pizza delivery for Mikey." I'm standing in front of the apartment door in the third floor hallway, pizza box in one hand covering the .45 in the other hand. Dawn is plastered against the wall to my left. Her hands are empty; her weapons are hidden. Dagger in one boot, stake in the other, and a second stake in the back of her jeans. But she isn't here to fight. She's here to support me.
"Ain't no fuckin' Mikey here, bitch."
"Can you tell me where 304 is then, mister?" I let a little whine creep into my voice. I'm good.
"Go the fuck away."
I hear him, close to the door, and I see the light blocked out in the peephole. Now! Two rounds in the lock, quick-quick before I kick the door in. Not strong enough to do it cleanly otherwise. The door hits the mark in the head like I figured it would. He staggers back.
"Please, no!"
He turns to run away. His gun is still in his hand, but it may as well be a chocolate bar for all the good it's doing him. Focus on the front sight. Two shots, back of the head, while the mark is moving. Not bad. I hear a noise behind me, and I'm turning, finger taking up trigger pressure before I realized it's Dawn.
"I think I'm gonna puke." Dawn's face had a green tint in the mark's dimly lit apartment.
Freakin' wonderful. How many zillion monsters has she killed? It's just blood. And some brains. Okay, the guy did make those noises after I shot him, but that's not unusual. So now I'm holding her hair back as she pukes up milk and whatever she invented for dinner.
Great. Now we gotta wipe for prints everywhere she touched. I do that while she watches, looking slightly dazed. "Let's go. Now!"
"Coming." She's on her feet and stumbling out the door after me. No nosy neighbors. Good to go. We had to stop once on the way to the subway so Dawn could throw up again in a dumpster. Wonderful.
* * *
NOW:
So she's sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. Rocking. Every minute or so there's a sniffle. Great. What are we going to do now? I sit on the bed next to her, and put my arm around her shoulders.
Dawn looks at me with bloodshot eyes. Her words are quiet. "You killed him."
"Yes. That was the plan."
"But, I mean, he wasn't even fighting back. He was trying to run away!" Dawn's voice builds to a shriek.
Great. Here comes Hysterical Dawn. I've labeled her different personality facets: Funny Dawn, Cute Dawn, Bitchy Dawn, Sexy Dawn. Hysterical Dawn is the only one I hate. "Look, Dawnie. That's how it is. It wasn't supposed to be a fairht. ht. It wasn't even supposed to be a fight. It was a job! I kill people for a living, remember?"
A sniffle. "I didn't think it would be like that. That you would just kill someone in cold blood!"
"It's what I do. Clean people, collect the fee."
She turns away from me, ducking out from under my arm. Fuck this. I need a shower.
By the time I get out of the bathroom, she's got the covers pulled up over her, and is facing away, towards the wall. Still dressed in the clothes she wore to the job. She wants avoidance? Fine. I slide naked into bed, with her clothes as a more-than-physical barrier between us.
I wake up in the middle of the night. It's not a threat, so my gun is not in my hand. A warm body is embracing me. And slim fingers are tweaking my clit. "Umm." To Dawn's credit, she did wait 'til I was awake to stick her fingers into me. "Dawn. Oh fuck. Oh yeah, Dawnie."
Dawn rolls half onto me, straddling my thigh while her fingers keep working. I can feel the heat from her crotch, grinding against me. "Uhhh. Matty. Uhhh." Damn, she worked herself up quick! I'm barely wet. She kisses my throat, along my jaw, and up to my ear. She's rubbing against my thigh like there's no tomorrow. "Matty, I love you! Oh! Oh! OH!" She slams against me as she comes.
Dawn's fingers stop sliding into me as soon as her orgasm is over. I feel a chill come over me. She used me to get off. To try to forget the job. I don't know whether I should scream in frustration or cry at the screwed up situation. In the end, I just lie on the bed next to her and try to sleep. Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.
* * *
SUMMARY: Dawn goes with Mathilda on a job. Things get ugly.
WARNING: F/F sex, violence, language.
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Everything BtVS and The Professional.
MUSE: Inspired by Joss and Luc.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, United Paramount Network, and Fox Television. The Professional and all associated characters are property of Columbia Pictures, Gaumont/Les Films du Dauphin, and Luc Besson. This work is not for profit, and no ownership of aforementioned copyrighted material implied, nor any infringement intended.
* * *
NOW:
The last few weeks had been going so well. Dawn and I had been spending almost all of our time together. The few times we weren't together were usually when I was Clea or or she was on some special Slayer patrol. The morning had been perfect: waking up in her arms, feeling wanted. Needed. Loved.
I should have known shit would go sideways.
* * *
THIS MORNING:
"So can I go?" Dawn was twirling some of my hair around her finger. I love it when she does that.
"You want to help me Clean?"
"Well, more like watch your back; make sure nothing happens to you."
"I'll think about it." I lay back on the sheets (red, silky) and looked around the room. It was not as barren--Spartan, Dawn had called it--as when she moved in. Sheets for the bed; one set of red and another set of black. And pillows. Leon wouldn't have approved, especially not of a Cleaner sleeping in a bed. The thought brought a twinge to my heart.
Pictures of Dawn and me from the booth at the arcade are tacked up on the wall. Us smiling, one where Dawn's tongue is in my ear, and the one where the camera caught us, lips touching on the way to a serious macking session. A poster of a band she loves: "Ghost of the Robot." A bag of Slayer gear is on the floor, next to my case. Way to many girly clothes in the closet. Cosmetics on the bathroom counter, in the shower three different shampoos and two kinds of conditioner. We actually have more categories of laundry than just lights and darks. Leon wouldn't have approved of these, either.
I realize my Slayer has been watching me while I zoned out, and I look back into her eyes. "I guess."
"Oh, thank you thank you!" Her squeals are gonna damage my hearing, I swear.
* * *
EARLIER THIS EVENING:
"Pizza delivery for Mikey." I'm standing in front of the apartment door in the third floor hallway, pizza box in one hand covering the .45 in the other hand. Dawn is plastered against the wall to my left. Her hands are empty; her weapons are hidden. Dagger in one boot, stake in the other, and a second stake in the back of her jeans. But she isn't here to fight. She's here to support me.
"Ain't no fuckin' Mikey here, bitch."
"Can you tell me where 304 is then, mister?" I let a little whine creep into my voice. I'm good.
"Go the fuck away."
I hear him, close to the door, and I see the light blocked out in the peephole. Now! Two rounds in the lock, quick-quick before I kick the door in. Not strong enough to do it cleanly otherwise. The door hits the mark in the head like I figured it would. He staggers back.
"Please, no!"
He turns to run away. His gun is still in his hand, but it may as well be a chocolate bar for all the good it's doing him. Focus on the front sight. Two shots, back of the head, while the mark is moving. Not bad. I hear a noise behind me, and I'm turning, finger taking up trigger pressure before I realized it's Dawn.
"I think I'm gonna puke." Dawn's face had a green tint in the mark's dimly lit apartment.
Freakin' wonderful. How many zillion monsters has she killed? It's just blood. And some brains. Okay, the guy did make those noises after I shot him, but that's not unusual. So now I'm holding her hair back as she pukes up milk and whatever she invented for dinner.
Great. Now we gotta wipe for prints everywhere she touched. I do that while she watches, looking slightly dazed. "Let's go. Now!"
"Coming." She's on her feet and stumbling out the door after me. No nosy neighbors. Good to go. We had to stop once on the way to the subway so Dawn could throw up again in a dumpster. Wonderful.
* * *
NOW:
So she's sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. Rocking. Every minute or so there's a sniffle. Great. What are we going to do now? I sit on the bed next to her, and put my arm around her shoulders.
Dawn looks at me with bloodshot eyes. Her words are quiet. "You killed him."
"Yes. That was the plan."
"But, I mean, he wasn't even fighting back. He was trying to run away!" Dawn's voice builds to a shriek.
Great. Here comes Hysterical Dawn. I've labeled her different personality facets: Funny Dawn, Cute Dawn, Bitchy Dawn, Sexy Dawn. Hysterical Dawn is the only one I hate. "Look, Dawnie. That's how it is. It wasn't supposed to be a fairht. ht. It wasn't even supposed to be a fight. It was a job! I kill people for a living, remember?"
A sniffle. "I didn't think it would be like that. That you would just kill someone in cold blood!"
"It's what I do. Clean people, collect the fee."
She turns away from me, ducking out from under my arm. Fuck this. I need a shower.
By the time I get out of the bathroom, she's got the covers pulled up over her, and is facing away, towards the wall. Still dressed in the clothes she wore to the job. She wants avoidance? Fine. I slide naked into bed, with her clothes as a more-than-physical barrier between us.
I wake up in the middle of the night. It's not a threat, so my gun is not in my hand. A warm body is embracing me. And slim fingers are tweaking my clit. "Umm." To Dawn's credit, she did wait 'til I was awake to stick her fingers into me. "Dawn. Oh fuck. Oh yeah, Dawnie."
Dawn rolls half onto me, straddling my thigh while her fingers keep working. I can feel the heat from her crotch, grinding against me. "Uhhh. Matty. Uhhh." Damn, she worked herself up quick! I'm barely wet. She kisses my throat, along my jaw, and up to my ear. She's rubbing against my thigh like there's no tomorrow. "Matty, I love you! Oh! Oh! OH!" She slams against me as she comes.
Dawn's fingers stop sliding into me as soon as her orgasm is over. I feel a chill come over me. She used me to get off. To try to forget the job. I don't know whether I should scream in frustration or cry at the screwed up situation. In the end, I just lie on the bed next to her and try to sleep. Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.
* * *