Dawn's Fine

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. As far as I know, Dawn Summers and all things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon, and Milton Fine belongs to the creators of the Superman comics, and Warner Bros and whoever else owns "Smallville".



Explanation: This is not Dawn's first time, but she has a lot of emotional baggage to contend with, so she's still a bit shy and awkward. Technically, this is going to be Fine's first time, but he is a superior Artificial Intelligence, so he's very well informed and well build. Also, he has the advantage of being able to read Dawn's biological reactions, so he doesn't have the problem of getting the wrong signals or hesitating.



Another thing, on the show, the AI proved capable of mimicking human emotions perfectly. He was able to fool Clark, Lex, and presumably his students and his faculty colleagues. He's going to be reacting quite naturally, outwardly.



I'm writing Fine from Dawn's perspective, based only on what she knows about him and about men in general. He's pretending to be a man, so there should be no surprise when he presents signs of desire.



Timeline – Between "Arrival" and "Splinter" (Smallville), post Chosen (Buffy, the Vampire Slayer), post NFA (Angel)



Rating: NC17







Chapter 4





Dawn's last class that Friday had been unfortunately boring enough to allow her mind to wander. The same thing that kept happening ever since 'the moment' happened again. She began day-dreaming about Prof. Fine. His face, his voice, that vaguely arrogant smile that crooked his lips sometimes, his eyes, the way he seemed to subdue the entire class just by walking in, his hands … such images kept flashing through her mind. His fingers… at the memory of his inadvertent touch from the other day, she had to squeeze her eyes tight and will herself not to sigh. The soft, constant warmth between her thighs was beginning to melt her.



She wondered how was she going to last a weekend without seeing him. Wouldn't it be wonderful if he needed her for some urgent research? She played with that wish for a while, sometimes including, sometimes excluding Clark's presence. The scenario without Clark made her blush. Her self preservation instinct told her that it would be a lot safer if he was there as well; if she had to be alone with Fine in a room… she would probably do something she could never take back.



She was among the last students to leave the auditorium because she needed some time to clear her mind of the vivid fantasies. When she saw him walk toward her, she almost panicked. There was something in the way he carried himself that reminded her of Spike, and for a moment, she was sure he was going to smell her desire. She smiled realizing that the guy lacked her vampire's preternatural senses.



"Hi. I know it's on short notice, but are you free tonight by any chance? Something's come up and I need some help.



She bit the inside of her cheek. The sharp pain reassured her she was not dreaming. Had someone granted her unspoken wish?



"Clark's nowhere to be found," he added.



Her momentary indecision ended, and she answered before she could remember why she had decided that the Clark-scenario had seemed preferable.



"Sure," she said.



"All right then. My car's over there," he told her and walked away.



She kept telling herself that they were just going to work. She hoped it was going to be something mind-numbingly boring, because she was already beginning to heat up.



When he told her they were going to work at his apartment, his tone was so cool and business-like that she didn't – as she might have expected – swoon, shocked to have her fantasies played out so accurately. The comparison to Spike came naturally. Her vampire could've made evening prayer sound like an invitation to bed, whereas Fine could not have sounded more professional. The very fact that he didn't ask her if she was comfortable with that told her that the man did not entertain the sort of thoughts that plagued her.



She followed him in silence, valiantly trying not to let her feelings show.



They got in his car and Dawn all of sudden wished she had been wearing something less revealing than her short skirt. When he reached down to turn on the radio she couldn't stop the image of his hand reaching between her legs. If she didn't get a grip soon, she was in danger of dripping on his car seat. That was not the way she wanted to leave her mark with this man.



He unlocked the door, and Dawn closed her eyes, refusing the temptation to glue her eyes to his ass.



When he took off his jacket she dug her nails into her palms to keep from caressing his chest.



"You can leave your things over there," he said, pointing at a coffee table cluttered with books in the living room, and walked into another room.



She heard him opening the fridge and heard his voice from the kitchen.



"Do you want a root beer or something?"



'Oh, I want something,' she made an effort not to say.



She went to him. He was watching her with a soft smile that bore no resemblance to his wry classroom expression. It gave her hope that he shared her feelings, and at the same time, this scared her.



"Soda?" he offered, looking at her with a mixture of cold courtesy and hot intensity.



"Um-hum," she mumbled, unable to tear her gaze away from him.



He got a Coke bottle out of the fridge, and she tried to get herself together. This had to be wrong. Nothing that felt so hot could be quite right. She had been attracted to guys before, she had had sex before, she had been in love before, but no one in her experience had aroused her as much as this man, who had barely touched her.



She had a flashback of being in her kitchen with Spike, but she was not a little girl anymore. The hell with expulsion! The hell with his career! Besides, no one needed to know. The Slayer, the Watchers, and even the Scoobies had been able to keep the end of the world secret so many times, she would surely be able to keep secret a torrid love affair.



She licked her lips watching him pour her drink. She kept thinking that should leave. She should run. She should stay away from him. When he offered her the glass, the panicky little voice in her head fell silent.



She reached for the glass. Their hands touched, and from that point of contact she felt her skin catch fire. She let go of the glass. It seemed to take hours until it reached the floor. The loud sound of its shattering jolted her back to some semblance of normality. She bent down to pick up the pieces. The next thing she knew, he was holding her hands, kissing her fingers and her palms, trying to burn her alive with his gaze.



Her head was spinning, and she felt she was slowly melting in his tenderness, when his tongue slid along her finger, upping the level of her tactile awareness. She watched him amazed as he put his mouth over the web between index and thumb in a sensual and unequivocal promise of working another, more intimate part of her in the same way. She couldn't stop the image of his head between her thighs, his eyes burrowing into hers while he was using his mouth on her, kissing, licking, sucking.



"Oh, God," she whispered, surrendering.



He grazed her skin softly with his teeth, and stood up. Dawn's legs felt so weak that she almost knelt on the shards of glass before his strong grip on her wrists steadied her. He pulled her upright, and stepped over the broken glass, invading Dawn's personal space. He was only holding her wrists, but she felt him everywhere, beneath her clothes, beneath her skin.



Her lips were burning for the kiss. She licked them nervously, and for the first time since she had met him, the man gave a sign of weakness. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as if he was surrendering to forces stronger than him. He pulled her against his chest and the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes to cope with her world spinning so fast was the blue flame of his gaze burning into her.



His grip on her was almost painfully strong; Dawn moaned faintly into his mouth, and the sound triggered something in him. He swept the surface of her lips with his tongue, but soon sneaked it inside her mouth, much to her delight. She had about three years of experience kissing boys, but she was overwhelmed by her desire. She swirled her tongue around his awkwardly, and he growled. He let go of her hands to put his left arm around her waist, crushing her against him, while his right hand supported the back of her head as he intensified the assault on her mouth. Dawn hanged on to his shoulders for support, since most of her body seemed to have acquired an unreliable, jellylike consistence.



He walked her backwards until her back was firmly against a wall, pressed his body over hers, and then removed his arms. They had been kissing without respite, just barely coming out for gasps of air. He cupped her face in his palms, apparently trying to stop kissing her. It took him several long, deep kisses, and several more fluttering kisses, but he managed to stop.



"There are at least three good reasons why you shouldn't let me go on. I'm quite a bit older than you, you’re my student, and you don't know anything about me."



His voice was hoarse with arousal, and it sounded so sexy it made all his objections feel like incentives.



"All it takes is one reason to do it," she whispered.



He leaned over, as if to kiss her neck, but stopped, his mouth hovering just above her skin.



"Which is?" he asked softly, breathing over her neck.



She felt his lips so close to her ear, making her wish he would stop this avoidance and start nibbling on her… anywhere on her… all over her…



"I want it," she admitted despite a deep seeded reluctance to open up.



Apparently, that was all he needed to hear. He plunged his hands in her hair, tangling his fingers in her locks, clutching it till it almost hurt, and began planting kisses along her neck, alternating them with licks and nibbles. Dawn was already trembling when he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He found a spot on her neck that made her whimper, and focused on it. The more he was sucking on it, and flicking his tongue over it, the more unbearable the heat between her legs became. She ran her fingers through his hair, wavering between the need to pull his head away before her brain turned to mush and the constant delight of what he was doing to her.



She wondered what would happen if he bit her. Would she call out Spike's name or would she just come at once. She thought again of what that skilful mouth of his could do to her once he worked his way down her body.



She rubbed her thighs together, trying to relieve the tightness inside. He must have sensed her need because he slid a hand along the back of her thigh while he nudged her legs apart with his knee. She lifted a leg, supported by his hand, and wrapped it around his waist, so that her desire was now plain to feel even without vampire senses. She was wet and hot and throbbing, and he could feel it even through the fabric of his pants, so he pushed her harder into the wall, and lifted her other leg off the ground. She locked ankles behind him, and he started thrusting into her, each movement rubbing her just right. An odd synapse fired through her overwhelmed brain, and she smiled thinking that what they were doing might be called dry humping, but it was anything but dry.



It took only a moment, but somehow his right hand was between them, squeezing her breast, then it was under her shirt, pinching her nipple, then it was under her skirt, rubbing her over the completely drenched panties. She gasped at every new touch, she trembled at every groan that escaped his control.



He was losing patience at the same rate as her. His fingers sneaked beneath the unbecomingly wet lace that covered her fevered flesh. He had no space to create the steady rhythm of soft touches that usually brought her over the edge. They were both too impatient to try to find a better position.



She gasped in delighted shock when he ripped her panties off. She squealed aloud when he slid one, then a second finger inside her. She was so close… close enough to come like that, but she wanted him to come with her. Before she could articulate this thought, she heard his zipper and felt him, smooth, thick and so hard that she just knew they were going to come together, passionately, and very, very soon.



He made his way inside her in a few erratic thrusts. His thickness, her tightness, easily overcome by wetness and desire.



His hardness filled her wonderfully, stretching her just enough to be pleasurable, not enough to hurt. He was moving just a little too slow for her need. His head rested against her hers, his cheek brushing against hers, the beginning of a beard scratching her smooth skin. She could feel his jaws clenched, she could feel the tension in his arms, his shoulders, and his back, and she realized he was trying to hold back for her sake. She tried to muster the breath to say 'harder' or 'faster' or both, but she didn't get the chance. He started pounding into her as if he could read her mind. She came, screaming.



"Dawn! Oh! Dawn! Baby! Yeah!" he grunted with every climactic thrust.



He slipped out of her, Dawn untangled her legs from around his waist, but he didn't let her out of the embrace. She was grateful for it, not only because it felt good, and safe and intimate, but also because she was probably unable to stand on her own.



"I got a little carried away," he whispered. "I was aiming for the bed."



She chuckled softly, only to tremble when he added:



"We'll get there. We still have a long list of things to do."



"You have a list?" she tried to smile.



"Don't you?"



She realized that yes, she did. She had a lot of things she still wanted to do with him, or have him do to her.



He took a step back and did his pants up. Dawn tried to stay on her feet, but swayed. He caught her, and she thought she could see a self-satisfied grin on his face before he swept her in his arms and carried her into his bedroom.



"I think we both need something to drink," he said, and kissed her softly on the lips before he went back into the kitchen.



She was stretching lazily between the cool satin sheets, basking in the afterglow, replaying earlier events in her head.



How did he know? She hadn't said anything since she told him she wanted it. How did he know exactly what she wanted? How much, how hard, how fast… And did he know she wanted it all over again? Soon…







To be continued…