Temptation

(The characters are Joss', not ours)



Dawn's morning had gone a little less than smoothly, from being lectured to by her European History teacher for not knowing how to properly tie her tie and "running about like a hoyden" to being so far behind in Latin class (never ever having taken any foreign language but Spanish, and only knowing various technical and scientific terms for demons and vampires from hanging about with a Watcher for several years) that she hadn't a hope of catching up. It probably didn't help that the warmth of Spike's hand low on her back had transformed itself in memory from a gentle touch to a burning fire of sensation. She swore she could feel the imprint of every casual finger there. Casual! She felt anything but casual about his rebirth as a sexy teacher in London... her sexy teacher in London!



Eager blue eyes had searched the dining hall for him at lunchtime, but he was nowhere to be seen. Pouting, she had joined Jeanine and the school tennis team at a table for her meal, and been alternately bored by girls going into well-bred rhapsodies about Wimbledon and beleaguered by the same girls asking questions about American fashion, American boys, American classes, American life. They seemed to think that both Dawn and Jeanine owned their own cars, ten closets of clothes, knew movie stars since they came from Los Angeles, and generally were the wildest of wild, depraved girls. Though of course, they were never quite that direct. Still, it was an education for Dawn as to just how relentless gossip could be in a boarding school, as the conversation was also peppered with references to all sorts of Byzantine plots to get back at or punish some other girl for some faux pas or another, or even an imagined slight. The Cordettes were rank amateurs in the arts or gossip and spite compared to these ladies, and besides, Harmony was nicer as a vampire than she'd been alive. But Dawn considered it a warning, though Jeanine flung herself happily into the gossip, learning names and connections with a frightening speed. It was a relief when the meal ended! Tennis, prejudice, and gossip did not make for tasty mealtime conversation, as far as Dawn was concerned. Maybe she'd sit with the boys at dinnertime, instead?



As she cleared her tray, she pulled her course schedule from her bag, and moaned inwardly to see that Literature was next. Worse yet, Victorian Literature! She was going to be stuck with Brit Lit two years in a row, and miss American Lit entirely! How sucky was that? The most she knew about it was that stupid Oliver Twist movie, but that was enough to know she didn't like it. Dawn dragged her way up the stairs and arrived late to class; she knew it was a bad move for her first day, but between jet lag, sexy Spike thoughts, and her reluctance for the subject, was it really any surprise?



As she entered the room, six pairs of questioning eyes turned toward her, looks of disdain on their faces for the tardy new girl, but the only pair of eyes that mattered to Dawn was an intense blue, peering at her from the front of the classroom, where Spike was perched casually on the front edge of his desk, lecturing away. He had on an adorable pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses that she'd not seen before, and the combination of intellectual geekery with smokin' hot Spike was enough to take her breath away.



"Um. Sorry I'm late," she finally managed to get out through the heated pounding of her pulse. "I guess the time change is catching up with me." She moved hesitantly into the room.



Spike turned and immediately felt the heat rush straight to his groin. It didn't matter that he'd lectured himself on his errant feelings, that he'd gone to his apartment and deliberately brought himself off to an entirely different image, not that he'd tried to change his mind set... to think of her as his 'little sister.'



His entire attention was on her, and he lost his train of thoughts. "It's alright... find a seat." Right, he had the 'cool as a cucumber' act down... so long as no one looked at his bloody cucumber. Next year, when the vote on school uniforms came up, he was voting to have them lengthened. That much was a certainty.



Dawn shook back her hair, and smiled. "Thanks, Mr. Spike." She went to the front of the classroom, and took a student desk directly opposite the teacher desk on which he perched. She slid smoothly into the desk, as she imagined Cordelia (or better yet, Faith!) might have done, fluffed her skirt into place, and crossed her legs. She then uncrossed them, leaned down, and retrieved a pen and some paper from her bag, refluffed and recrossed, and smiled sweetly up at Spike.



"Sorry to hold things up... Sir." Wide blue eyes traveled along his lean form in another well-tailored suit, today with a shirt of an intense blue that matched his laser-bright eyes. God, he looked good enough to... her mind wobbled. "What's today's lesson?"



"We are discussing poetry and symbolism, which is key to poetry. We've had several examples of the description of a concept or an emotion or even an individual, without using the actual term for the emotion or the name of the individual." He leaned back, "for example, 'whore of Rome' was often used in literature to mean the Pope... when written by anti-papists, of course. Free word association is a good exercise to get you thinking. The class came up with great ideas on words that one could use in a poem about money. Green, the root of evil, the belt of Croesus, and so on. Each member of the class has now written their own list, and we were about to guess what Jeanine's words are meant to evoke. Go on, Jeanine."



Jeanine blinked. He was still looking at Dawn, so she hadn't figured he was talking to her until the other kids turned to her. "Oh.. uh... storms, electricity, heat, red, crescendo, breath..." her cheeks started to burn.



Spike's gaze sharpened. "Care to take a guess, Dawn." All that the words brought to his mind was the image of himself bending her over that desk and taking her from behind as she breathed out his name. Fuck... he was quite sure a teacher was not meant to have these thoughts, ex-vampire or not.



Dawn swallowed and fidgeted in her seat, directly in front of Spike. All that Jeanine's list brought to her mind was her steaming fantasy in the bathtub the night before, the storm waves of her uncontrolled movements in the water, the hot red caress of Spike's electric blue eyes traveling over her naked body, his sensual mouth and velvety voice urging to her a crescendo of sensation, her breath deserting her as she climaxed under his eyes. She went with it, answering breathily, "Desire."



Dawn's eyes traveled up and down Spike's body before she turned her face to her classmates, blushing. "I'm terrible at poetry but I remember a teacher telling me once that every poem is either about love or telling a story.... so it just makes sense that those images are about desire. Or love. Whatever. Right?" She looked back at Spike, feeling overheated and breathless as though she'd just gotten out of that tub again. She tugged at the knot of her tie, loosening it, and undid the top button of her uniform blouse as well. She needed the cool air on her throat in the worst way!



Watching her delicate finger slide in and out of the knot, he grew so hard, it was painful. Her fidgety movements, the way she swept her hair to one side, exposing her neck, the sight of creamy soft skin peeping out from her slightly open top - he wanted her bad. He wanted to pick her up, sit her down on his lap, and fuck her. He wanted to...



A cough brought him back. "I would have said lust," he said quietly, then looked at Jeanine.



"What's the difference," the girl asked, grinning. Dawn's blue eyes fixed on his. She'd have liked to know, too. What was she feeling? This obsession with Spike that had started from the moment she'd seen him again, touched his warm hand, seen his eyes? Whatever it was... she wasn't about to let it go. Not with a whole semester to wear him down. Her eyes dropped lower, lashes shadowing the heat that shot into them at the idea of herself at Spike's mercy, or he at hers.



"I think... that's a discussion for a college class," he said with finality. "Would anyone else like to read their list to us?" He was desperately trying not to look at her again, not to imagine... not to fucking want her.



Dawn licked her lips, fanned her throat and face with her hand, and listened with less than one ear as the five British students took turns reading their lists. She'd been right, though... the girls' images were about love or hate, two sides of the same coin. The boys' images were about girls or violence. Spike's cool voice discussed and dissected the images, a refined contrast to the subject matter.



The heat in her body at the thought of Spike kicking them all out, combining all the images together to drag her forcefully from her chair, and slamming himself into her body to demonstrate exactly what was meant by lust and violence was making her feel faint with... her own lust, flooding her senses, making her breathing come faster and faster. Her eyes fluttered all the way shut, and she arched her neck, practically shuddering in her seat. The long muscles in her slender crossed thighs tightened around the throbbing wetness at her core as his cool voice went on and on, seemingly unaffected by the discussion or by her.



He would rise and lock the door behind them, telling her she obviously was in greater need of tutoring than he had imagined. Latin words, words like fellatio and cunnilingus, clavicle and areola and naval, would fall from his perfect mouth as he stripped her naked and demonstrated the meaning of each one, or forced her to her knees and held her head and fucked her mouth, or trapped her against his desk without even bothering to ease the way, taking her virginity with her skirt flipped up and her panties around her ankles, one hand in the small of her back, another fisted in her hair like a leash. As he ruthlessly, tenderly, inexorably taught her everything he wanted her to know to please him.



Dawn's eyes glazed and she flushed a delicate pink all over. She didn’t even notice the ringing of the bell at the end of class, or the other students' departure for the afternoon, so enthralled was she by her personal fantasy of Spike. He had to speak to her twice before she blinked up at him, awareness returning like awakening from a deep sleep.



God... she looked like she'd just been fucked. He could imagine her mewling in his ear, begging at the last moments for release, her nails digging into his back, his arms... leaving half moon marks as she cried and demanded, as he gave it to her so hard... so good... this is how she'd look afterwards, wide eyed, breathless... innocent and knowing, all at once. Poetry in bloody technicolor motion.

The class was gone, it was just the two of them there. The two of them, and that ache in his groin. And silence.



Pushing off the desk, he walked the short distance to her desk, leaned over and gripped her arms lightly, pulling her out of the chair.



Dawn felt light as a feather as Spike lifted her from her seat, strong fingers holding her lightly but firmly as she rose, staring into his intense eyes, still more than halfway to whimpering from the wicked thoughts she’d been having about him… and her… alone in a locked classroom. Her lips fell open in a silent gasp, and her head went back the slightest bit, her eyes locked on his, her throat delicately offered as though he were still the fanged Big Bad.



Her tongue flickered across her parted lips, and she swayed closer to him, eyes half-lidded and dreamy, slumberous and inviting. “Spike,” she breathed, wanting nothing more than to taste him, however he’d let her.



She wasn't scared. At least that much registered, before the madness gripped him again. "Yes?" he whispered, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, then running that hand down her back, this time molding her body against his, hissing as his raging erection pressed into her stomach. Relief, that was all he wanted... just a bit of relief. "Tell me... was it this... or this..." he ran his mouth along her exposed throat, trailing his tongue along her vein, feeling her pulse quicken under his tongue.



Her body mindlessly shaped itself to his, female softness against his undeniable arousal dragging a gasp from Dawn’s lips as he pulled her to him, ran his hand along her spine. Her hips pressed forward, starving for the heat of him, and hot wetness pooled between her legs. “Oh, God,” was dragged from her mouth as Spike tasted her throat. Her nipples swelled, achingly hard, and Dawn panted out, “all of it, oh, God!” Her fingers trembled against his chest, tangled themselves in the back of that bright blue shirt with a desperation that burned her from the inside out.



This was wrong... so very wrong. He should stop... he would have stopped, but how could he when she was touching him so? When he could feel her firm round breasts brushing against him, the peaks of her nipples teasing him in his very aware state? Desperately, he tried to remember how they might have been when he was a vampire... but it was a blank... no help in that quarter.



He thrust against her, groaning as her belly pressed right back.... sending signals that appealed to his basest instincts. "Look at me," he growled, lifting his head as he slipped his hand up her thigh and under her skirt, finding her wet and hot as he rubbed his middle finger back and forth against her sex, the heel of his hand hitting her pubic bone with each stroke.



Catching the heat in her eyes, his own breath caught. He fucked her with his hand... and fucked her in his mind... getting as close to the thing he wanted most as he ever would. This was where he would draw the line. This was it. "That's it... fuck my hand Dawn... fuck my hand," he begged.



Wordless whimpers clawed their way from Dawn’s throat when his hand slid up her thigh, under her skirt, stroking skin that had never felt another’s hand. Her knees buckled when his finger slid against her panties, drenched in her wetness; as his hot breath gusted against her throat, his erection sliding against her belly, unbelievably hard and hot even through layers of clothing, her hips slid her sex along his fingers, grinding desperately against the hard heel of his hand for more pressure, more touch, more Spike.



“More, God, more…” she gasped, made drunker by his hands on her than any alcohol could ever manage, more addicted than by any drug. Dawn’s head came up, almost fiercely, and she pressed her face into the hollow of Spike’s neck, jerking breaths sending searing air against his pale skin. Her mouth worked helplessly with the intensity he aroused in her, lips brushing feverishly against his throbbing pulse.



Even without his vampire senses, he could smell her arousal... and it made him heady with power... with desire... with needs so strong, they threatened to overpower him. As she placed more and more of her weight on his hand, her movements became more furious... less controlled. The heat of her mouth seemed to emulate her motions, as she rubbed her mouth against his throat, rubbed her breasts against his chest... her belly and hip against his cock.



"Good... so fucking good," he answered her, straining against her, jerking harder as he came close to release. "Come... come on Dawn," he wanted to kiss her so bad... he wanted to fuck her for real so bad... he fought so hard against it... his hands shook... his muscles bulged... this would do... it would have to, he thought, moving against her so hard she would have flown back if he hadn't been holding her so tight against him.



Her cries became louder, more ragged and higher-pitched, as Spike drove her into a quivering release with the twin goads of his hands and body, his hard grip and thrusting erection a merciless ravishing of Dawn’s untried senses. Somewhere in the incredibly small part of her that could actually touch something resembling thought, she knew she was whimpering and begging, crying out loud at the sharp pleasure he was giving her, writhing against his grasp, but Dawn just didn’t care.



He was so close... so intent on finding release, that it was too late by the time he realized how loud she'd grown. Reminding her would do no good now. Hell, with all his experience, he was gritting his teeth together to keep from shouting out his pleasure.



His name... on her lips... he had to stop her, even if her cries heightened his pleasure. Swooping down, he took her inexperienced mouth with his, gave her no chance to offer resistance as he thrust his tongue inside the tight confines of her mouth, now fucking her with every part of his body... catching her every gasp... shuddering in response to her every shiver.



Long after they both came, they continued to move against each other, milking the last remaining sensations from each other.



When he released her, his gaze fell to her semi-open blouse. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he buttoned it for her... afraid to talk, afraid of what she had to say.



Slowly, reluctantly, Dawn released Spike’s shirt from her greedy grasp. Little aftershocks continued to rock her body, and her knees felt like they’d gone to Borneo and weren’t coming back any time soon. Swaying slightly, she looked down at Spike’s head as he bent it over her blouse, rebuttoning her. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and rested one of her hands on the back of his neck, blushing in embarrassment at the eager desperation she’d shown him. But oh, God, the way he’d made her feel! Like nothing else ever had!



There was no way she wouldn’t take everything he had to give her, learn anything he wanted to teach her. Give anything he wanted to him. Whenever he wanted it. Was it lust or desire? Maybe even some love? Dawn didn’t give a damn what the two of them decided to call it, as long as they called it often! She licked the taste of his lips from hers, already hungry for more.



“Spike,” she said, her voice caressing and warm. She wondered if he could hear that she’d lie back for him right now, on the desk or the floor, if he wanted her to?



His gaze dropped to her eyes, and suddenly he was more afraid than if she threatened to tell the whole bloody school. He shook his head 'no.' "That shouldn't have happened. I forgot myself because... because you're so damned tempting, but that doesn't make it better, yeah?" He might not know her, but damn... he knew what she was thinking, what that tilt of her chin meant, and the way she looked at him from under her lashes. "This ends here." He tried to make light by chucking her under her chin. "You'll find yourself a nice boy your own age..." And I'll fucking break both of his hands. "...that's how it should be."



Dawn caught his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, smelling herself there. Her tongue slipped across them, along his middle finger, and her breath sighed out over the damp spot she’d left. “No,” she said, and released his hand.



Spike stared after her, as she left with her skirt swishing about her thighs.



Fuck!





(A/N: FB much desired!)