Temptation

(Characters are not ours, we're just playing with them)

"Now, look here mate," Spike frowned at the director of watcher studies. "I know it took a bit of effort to to match three new students up with three fight training teachers, but I can fix it. Just a bit of a swop, you cross off Smith's name, and put mine down to train Robert Collins, and you..."

Archer didn't crack under the sarcasm. No, it was quite the opposite, he grew more stubborn. "You're training Dawn Summers, and there will be no further discussions about it. The students are about to arrive," he said, waiving his arm around the warehouse furnished with world class training gear, including for physical training, laps, a weight lifting area, boxing ring, and fencing equipment.

"Putting your personal feelings about me aside, shouldn't you be thinking about HER? The Slayer's sister? Gel has specifically asked that I not be involved in her training. She knows me from.... well you know the history better than I do. If she feels our history will interfere with her training... who are you to put her at risk?"

"Well..."

Dawn was starting to think that Watcher training on top of a semester abroad might be a little too much for her to handle, especially with the raging obsession she'd developed for Spike as sexy human teacher. A mutual obsession, if his behavior after Victorian Literature that afternoon was anything to judge by!

Her knees got weak just thinking back on it. It was like he'd read her mind, giving her just the barest taste of the fantasies she'd been indulging in rather than pay attention to the actual reason for the class. No, she'd been daydreaming and gotten herself so hot and bothered that she'd eagerly done everything he'd told her to do, fucked his hand, rubbing shamelessly against him, writhing and biting and completely overwhelmed by his touch, his arousal, the way he'd come against her, both of them still clothed, but oh, so satisfied by touching one another. She had an uncomfortable feeling that she’d acted more like a little whore than the virgin she was, but it was so very hard to care, with the way Spike had made her feel.

And then he had the gall to tell her to find a nice boy her own age! No way in hell! But a full class load plus seducing Spike away from his idiotic stand PLUS Watcher training? Might get her just a little bit worn out.

Until she came into the warehouse to find Spike standing there with her unofficial official Watcher Trainer. A slow smile spread over her face.

"Hello, Mr. Archer. Hello, Mr. Spike." She started twisting her hair up into an out of the way ponytail, suitable for fight training. She was already wearing bike shorts, sneakers, and a sports bra under her sweats, she was ready to start as soon as they were. And just looking at Spike had her all kinds of ready, all over again!

"Good afternoon Dawn," Archer smiled. "I understand you have an issue with Mr. Spike being assigned to train you."

Fuck. Spike gave her a forced smile. "You were quite right the other day, telling me how you feel. I mean about..." This was impossible, he had to get a grip on himself. "Mr. Archer understands how difficult it would be for you to work with me in training, given our lengthy history."

"I'm sorry to hear that you have qualms, Dawn. Mr. Spike is really at the top of his game when it comes to physical training... no one gives a better work out, squeezes every bit out of you."

Spike sucked his breath in as his mind was assaulted by visions of panting and whimpering as she did give him her all, coming so hard against his palm, even he'd been stunned.

Dawn’s eyes flickered from Mr. Archer to Spike, and back again. No way she was missing out on a chance for hot, sweaty Spike training her… in any way she could get him. He was far from indifferent to her if he was pulling this crap out of his excellent arse!

She ducked her head, shamming shame, and studied the toes of her sneakers. “Mr. Archer, Mr. Spike, I’ve been thinking really hard about it,” she said meekly. “I think I was probably a little too quick to judge when I found out who my fight trainer was supposed to be.” If Spike could lie to get his way, then by god, so could she!

Dawn looked up at Mr. Archer, blue eyes wide. “I was being unreasonable and immature. I know what a great fighter Mr. Spike is, and I’ll be fine with working under him.” She smiled demurely. “I’ll give him everything I’ve got, I promise.”

She glanced over at Spike as Mr. Archer did. Nice try, she mouthed. No way.

“Well, Mr. Spike,” Archer said jovially, “it appears your concerns have been dealt with.” He turned back to Dawn, smiling like a fond uncle.

“I’m not afraid of getting dirty, Sir,” she added as the Watcher Trainer turned back toward her. “Or sweaty. I know Mr. Spike will take me every bit as far as I can go… in training. Oh, plus?” She smiled as though she’d just thought of a wonderful new reason why Spike would make the perfect tutor for her… needs. “We can get in some after hours practice in the school basement or wherever.”

Wherever, whenever, her eyes promised Spike. She toyed with the long tail of her hair, pulling it forward over her shoulder and smoothing it down over her breasts.

“I promise I’ll be a very dedicated pupil.”

He almost groaned as his pants grew tight on him. Scowling, he tried again. "No, I don't think it's a good idea. I feel her initial instincts were correct, and that we won't get on as well as she now thinks. I'm a hard taskmaster, Dawn. I don't bend."

"I'm sure Dawn will do all the bending, stop borrowing trouble."
Bending... bending over a desk... bending to pick up weights... bending to touch her toes, wearing tight shorts that hid nothing... bending over his lap to receive that spanking she so richly deserved...

"Mr. Spike?"

"No." He looked at Dawn, eyes locking with hers.

Dawn stuck a wounded look on her face, and prepared to fight for what she wanted. “Mr. Spike. I think you’re judging me by the little girl you’ve read about in the records. I’ve grown up a lot since then. And I’m guessing,” she turned to Mr. Archer for confirmation, “that Mr. Spike’s… past, combined with the fact that I have some actual in-the-field experience, makes us a better… fit… for training than either of us would be with another… partner. Right?”

"Absolutely, that was one of the factors that went into the decision to pair you up. If you have any of your sister’s moves, or have fought with Mr. Spike in the mix... my thought is you will have a running start... get into rhythm together that much faster."

He didn't want to hear words such as rhythm and pair... she had a damn fine pair, so round and firm... the thought of their chests rubbing together had him wishing for the privacy of his own apartment. Rubbing his neck, instead of what he really wanted to rub, he shook his head. "I still don't thin--"

"That's what they pay ME for, Mr. Spike. I do the thinking, and you handle the physical bits. So... it's settled, and here come the others. Good, good...."

As soon as Archer turned to welcome the others, Spike gripped Dawn's arm and whispered against her ear. "What are you playing at? This isn't going to work."

The warmth of his breath against her elicited an answering warmth low in her belly. Dawn pulled her arm in closer to her body, purposefully pressing his knuckles against her breast. “I never thought you were a coward, Spike. Lying to avoid working with me,” she tsked at him, very quietly.

“Besides, you probably are the best fight teacher they’ve got. And I—” her tongue darted out to lick suddenly dry lips— “Deserve everything you’ve got to give me.”

"Dawn..." his voice bloody well cracked. His fingers burned where they touched her... he really ought to take his hand back, but for the life of him, he couldn't. "I can't concentrate on training you when all I'm thinking of is f-- other things. It won't work. Now tell Archer you want someone else."

“But I don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want anyone else.” Suddenly feeling like a young idiot, she looked away. “I thought you—wanted me. I know you want me. You’ll teach me better than anyone else can, because you don’t want me to get hurt.” Was she even talking about her fantasies now, or did she mean it for fighting too? Dawn was never going to have a normal life, and a normal boy would bore her silly.

She wanted Spike. And she was going to have him.

“So if you want me in someone else’s hands, you do your own dirty work. I changed Archer’s mind and I’ll bet you anything you care to name that you will not be changing it back.” She tossed her pony tail defiantly over her shoulder and looked right back at him, tipping her head back to meet Spike’s eyes. “Bet me,” she challenged.

He gave her an incensed look, shoved her away from him, and strode over to where the other two teachers stood and were getting introduced to the students. His hands were uncharacteristically clasped behind his back, one hand crushing the other as he fought for all sorts of control. It was going to be a bloody long semester, it was.

* * *

Clad in stark black, relieved only by a band of red where the sleeves of his tee shirt were rolled up his upper arms, Spike participated in the demonstration of what the young watchers too be would someday be capable of. There were twenty odd teachers and students, including the three newcomers. They put on quite a show, putting their moves on each other... it was quite a melee of bodies striking each other, and the ground, rolling away to avoid punches, wooden staffs and metal swords clashing in a shower of sparks.

When it was called to a halt, Spike walked over to his 'partner.' He was still reluctant, but there was nothing he could do about the situation so he might as well do his bit and teach her to fight. Hopefully, that was where it would all end. He met her blue eyes. Right... that was what he was hoping...

Dawn’s eyes were shining and her breathing was coming faster than it ought to have, just from seeing a fight demonstration. She’d seen plenty of the real thing over the years, after all. But this was different. More visceral. Less panicky! And she’d never had the leisure to appreciate Spike’s fighting style in times of panic. Or his… form. He didn’t seem to have lost any of his grace to the trauma of Shanshu and the loss of his memories. And his body sure as hell remembered what to do! He’d dominated the demonstration with an eerie, powerful grace.

She thought she could see a hint of his demon peeking through, though that was impossible, of course. She took a deep, shuddering breath, intimidated and aroused all at once, breasts rising and falling in the scooped neck of her sports bra. “Not bad at all,” she observed as casually as she could, meeting his eyes in challenge. “Let’s get this party started.”

His gaze swept over her. All those hours... all those wasted bloody hours. He'd sat at home and stared at her pictures, and pictures of the slayer, trying desperately to recapture or get a glimpse of what his 'true' feelings for her ought to be. And here he was... an old man, staring at her... wanting her. It was completely unacceptable... no matter how good she'd feel under him, how good she'd taste.

Trying to hide his reaction, he gave her an unsmiling nod. Give this one an inch, and she take all eight of his!

* * *

Over the next three hours, Dawn discovered a few things about herself.

One, she didn’t completely suck at learning the basics of combat, and even had a certain natural grace once she’d figured out what the moves were supposed to accomplish. That was a source of both pride and resentment; pride, that she was ‘getting it,’ and resentment at the way all of the Scoobies had denied her the chance to learn for so long, only letting up at last when the First came to town and they were training a bunch of Potentials anyway.

Two, Spike really was a hard taskmaster, unsmiling and determined and detail-oriented… but he was also a hard taskmaster, as she learned when he brushed behind her to correct her stance or take the attacker’s position so that she could learn to break a rear attack. Each time, Dawn had to bite her lip nearly hard enough to bleed to prevent herself from thrusting her hips back at him, begging him to take her then, to ride her hard, to teach her more, to... to.... Her breathing would jerk and hitch with the frustration of being so near him and completely unable to do anything about it, surrounded by fellow Watchers, trainers, and students as they were. Luckily the sweat of working out glistened all over her, making the tension sweat from her desperate desire much less noticeable. Or so she hoped. At least, to everyone but him. She wouldn’t mind at all if her own lust for this new, human Spike was so obvious to him that it drove him into a frenzy.

And three, surprisingly, even with desire for Spike thrumming along every nerve and pulsing between her legs with every heartbeat, she managed to be pretty focused on what she was supposed to be learning, rather than what she wanted to be learning. Of course, had Spike been training one of the other students (both boys, thank god; Dawn was the only female student this time around; some of those British girls could be real gossipy bitches!), she would have had a much greater difficulty in concentrating on anyone but him.

Sweating freely, hair damp from the roots on out, and panting with the exertion, Dawn mopped at her face and the parts of her torso exposed by bike shorts and sports bra with a towel once more, tossed it aside, and took a ready stance. “Let’s go again,” she said to Spike. “I still don’t quite see how that take-down works—“

Spike glanced at the clock... training was over, he could let his mind wander... and wander it did. He simultaneously thought of three ways of taking her down.... his hands sliding down her chest, to her hips, dragging her to the ground with him, pressing her down on the mat, firmly under him as he worked the tight spandex off her body -- he could grab her leg and lift it, she'd put her arms behind her, break her fall the way he'd taught her. Then he'd drag her leg up over his shoulder, kneel, grind his thobbing groin against hers, find the release that had been denied him these last few hours... -- or he could get to her slide her legs between his while holding onto his shoulders. Then if she spread her legs and dragged him down on her... fuck...

Mr. Archer walked between them. “Dawn, Dawn! The others finished with today’s session an hour ago! You’re very dedicated, but as it is, you’ll be late for supper. Time to call it a day.”

Dawn grinned girlishly. “Just one more move, I promise. I want to get it right.”

Nodding, Archer turned, and with a wave, was gone. “Tomorrow, then,” drifted back through the heavy door before it swung shut.

Spike blinked. Somehow, they were alone. All alone. She'd done it again, gotten her way. He was breathing hard, staring at her own heaving bosom, her flushed cheeks... damn her, why did she make him react so? He swallowed. "You did well," he gave her a nod, still unable to look away.

Dawn gave another, totally unnecessary wipe to her torso with the damp towel, her sports bra tugging downward at the already-low neckline, then springing back up again, her breasts bouncing within the black Spandex. “I can do better, though,” she said, dropping the towel from fingers that ached to touch Spike. She took a step toward him, and another, closing the distance Archer had filled with his jovial obliviousness.

"I'll bet you can," he said, his voice deepening as he took a step toward her and put his hands out. "Let's go at it then." A muscle pulsed in his jaw, as he waited for her to make her move.

Dawn's hands rose to a ready position, and she twitched her left fist, then let fly with the right in a real attack, a jab at Spike's delectable mouth; expecting it to be slapped aside, still she put her weight behind it, ready to recoil into a straight kick at his sternum, heel foremost. She didn't want to get hurt, but was willing to go down if it meant Spike might be on top of her... losing an altogether different sort of control on her all-too-ready body, humming with thwarted desire from the past three hours.

In a whipcord motion, Spike leaned away from her oncoming fist and knocked her hand away by striking her forearm with his. She'd gotten close enough to send air skimming across his cheek, and for an instant, he'd found his face close enough to her chest that she had to have felt his breath. Her taut nipples were clearly visible through the thin material stretched over her breasts... reminding him of how tight his briefs felt throughout the exercise... how much he'd longed to free himself, and now her.

Even deep in his torturous thoughts, he could see the wheels spinning in her head... feel the sudden shift in her body... hear the sharp breath she took before she came at him, this time with her legs, intent on tangling him... on beating him. He knew that feeling too well... the desire to be on top, to show someone who was the big bad.…

Little did she know how much a little thing like competition could arouse a man, as if he weren't hard enough before. He put his energy into blocking her, over and over, using his hands... his legs, dodging her, watching her frustration grow, feeling himself even more on edge as she started to make sounds every time she missed. Just from this, he could tell how she'd be in bed... sexy... demanding... whether or not she knew what she was doing.

Dawn tried everything, flushing clear down to her breastbone at the exertion required even to get a touch on Spike, let alone something that might count as a disabling blow. Sweeps, punches, kicks, deceptions… none of it was working. She pressed the attack forward, using a circular motion of her arm to pin one of his against her side, just long enough to snap a closed fist toward his temporarily vulnerable windpipe. She had every intention of stopping before connecting, though; he needed that to breathe, these days. Just like he was at that moment, panting hot breaths; fire in his eyes; a refusal to let her get the better of him.

Damn him! She didn’t want to get the better of him. She wanted to get the best of him, from him, those lean wiry graceful hands all over her flushed skin, beneath the sweaty Spandex. She wanted to lick the droplets that traced their way along his strong throat, follow their trail to lick her way along his beautiful chest! Just the feeling of his forearm against her side was enough to make her throb down low in her belly.

He was 'tsk'ing' just to get her a bit angrier, when she slipped past his defensive moves. If she hadn't hesitated for that millisecond, she would have connected the hit. Her mistake. He grinned, and moved both hands up to grab her fist, at the same time he swept his leg around the back of hers.

Every part of his body touched hers, from ankle, to thighs, to chests. Heat rushed to his groin, sharpening the ache. This time he was the one who hesitated... tugged her toward him, groaning lightly as their bodies collided.

"Never hesitate... your mistake," he ground out, before pushing her off balance so she'd fall back over his leg.

The forced grin was wiped off his face when he felt long fingers curl around his wrists, taking him down with her. "Bloody... fucking ... hell," he cursed.

"Classic big bad mistake," she taunted, "talking instead of fighting." Her body writhed against him, their arms flattened together on the floor above her head. "Better yet, don't talk at all," she managed, gasping at the hot hard length pressing against her core.

When they stopped rolling, he found himself on top of her, one leg firmly between her thighs, his face buried in her breasts and hair. He dragged his hands down the length of her arms, feeling them flex slightly before he placed his own on the ground next to her shoulders and lifted his head.

"Mistake... yeah..." he agreed, fully intending to get off her. But when she moved her leg, brought her knee up between his thighs... when she slid against his raging hot cock, he was lost.

"Dawn..." his voice was shaky as he met her gaze. "Dawn..." Shouldn't... musn't... wrong... student... fucking teacher... they were all words, meaningless against the heat she generated just looking at him through wide eyes, inviting him with those slightly parted lips.

Sliding a hand under her neck, he lifted her head up toward him as he brought his mouth down hard against hers. There was no gentle prelude, no coaxing... he took what he needed, grateful that she didn't fight him, not even when he gathered her up closer and pressed against her, rubbing his hot and heavy sex against her. He'd been teased for too long, wanted her too long.

Dawn looped her thigh around Spike's hip, pressing up against him in an unsubtle, desperate movement, parting her legs for him as willingly as she'd parted her lips, prey to his predator, willing sacrifice on the altar of his lust. She fisted her hands in the honey-brown and platinum of his hair, mouth wet and willing for anything he cared to teach her, choked sounds of desire vibrating in her throat.

Her mouth clung to his, her hands clutched at him, even her body ruthlessly held on to his, didn't give him a chance to take a breath... to think... only to feel. She made him feel like he was the center of her world, that made her dangerous... that made her irresistible to him. Did she know it, did she fucking know she was driving him crazy?

He wanted more of her, he wanted to taste her inside and out... feel her. His mind clouded by lust, he shoved her sports bra up her body, shuddering at the sight of her small breast... nipple peaking just for him.

An almost savage sound broke from his throat, as he lowered his mouth over her nipple, fucking it with his tongue just the way he was fucking her despite their clothes.

Dawn's head lolled back against the exercise mat, mind numbed and body flaming beneath Spike's lascivious tongue and thrusting length against her core, breast aching with delight at the heat and suction of his tongue and lips around her painfully hardened nipple. Her ankles in their school-girl white socks locked above the small of his back, increasing the friction between his pounding body and her lava-hot center. "Sp-pike," she stuttered, helpless in his grip and loving it, "Sp-pike!"

The blood roared in his ears. He was blind and deaf to all but the sounds of their heavy breathing echoing off the walls, the fury of their motions, the building need. He felt her hand touch his hip and instinctively gripped her hand, then pushed it along his body between them, slowing to allow her to touch him.

Dawn's fingers wrapped hesitantly around Spike's cock at first, then eagerly touched, stroked, caressed along the length trapped beneath his loose workout pants. Wanting more, needing to touch, she plucked at the elastic waist, making room for her hand to slide inside. Her cheeks blushed furiously; she could feel the increased burn, but she could not bring herself to care as her fingers found, then circled, the hot hard silken length of him, alive against her palm with a mindless eagerness she recognized all too easily. "Spike," she called again, moaning with pleasure at the feel of him surging in her grip. "Please--" she begged, fingers tightening.

"Again," he said with a guttural cry, blindly thrusting his hips forward, then biting his lower lip and throwing his head back as she stroked him. All he could see was her hand dipping up and down the front of his pants, her elbow disappearing and reappearing. "Oh God... oh God... fu..."

Something smashed against the door of the building, loud. The sound was followed by voices, yelling to throw the ball back.

Spike thrust against her hand one more time, but then collapsed next to her, rolling on his back. Breathing hard, he stared at the ceiling... anywhere but at her. "Get dressed Dawn. I can't do this." He turned his head. "You're too good for this."

Dawn turned her head to look at Spike, but he was looking away. Wordlessly, she readjusted her sports bra, and knelt beside him, looking down. "You're wrong," she said in a small but determined voice. "So very wrong."

He shook his head, still refusing to look at her. "I'm not that vampire anymore. I don't let my instincts control me anymore," he said, getting up. Of course that was exactly what he'd allowed. Never again, he told himself. Never again. He finally met her gaze, the resolve in his clear for

Dawn swallowed, and tilted her chin up defiantly. "We'll have to work on that."


(Hope you enjoyed! Please comment.)