Temptation

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

Dawn’s hands stroked over Spike’s body every bit as eagerly, caressing the carved lines of exquisite muscle, the delicate tracery of blue veins beneath alabaster skin. She pressed her lips along the strong lines of his shoulders and neck, licked across the erects nubs of his nipples, and everywhere her mouth went, her hair trailed behind, silken threads against his hot, human skin.

“Oh, God, Spike, please don’t say that! I want you, you want me back. It’s not wrong. It’s the rightest of rights,” she pled, laying another hot, desperate kiss against his gorgeous mouth, nipping and sucking as their tongues tangled again. The smoky-sharp traces of whisky added a new dimension to the intoxicating taste of Spike in her mouth.

As the heat of her tongue lapped at his now extremely sensitive skin, he felt his flat male nipples stiffen under her touch... groaning lightly as she found his mouth with hers. God... she tasted good, so good, so innocent, so fucking wrong for him.

He gripped her shoulders, tried to think through the cloudy mess that was his mind. Maybe if he slowed her down... maybe if he pleasured her again, he could resist. And maybe the bleedin' sun wouldn't rise tomorrow.

His first attempt to string some words together was a non-starter. Even he couldn't make out the slurred words.

Moving his mouth over the soft skin of her throat, then pressing it against her shoulder, he tried to get a hold of himself. "Dawn, I can make the fire stop burning for you... but this is wrong... you... me... let me stop it for you... jus’ you... jus’ you."

His teeth sank into her shoulder, sending pleasurable chills along her spine, but it almost seemed as though Spike was trying to keep his mouth still rather than kiss her more. It was baffling. And slurring…. Barely coherent… “What’s that, Spike,” she whispered, leaning back to get a look at his beautiful face. Eyes closed, he mumbled against her skin.

He swallowed hard, trying to process her words. "No... that was a no..." In the state he was in, he needed to hear it - even if it was from his own mouth. Now his body would have to cooperate.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. If he was feeling like this... an experienced man, she had to be close to tears. Even if logic dictated against it, he would pleasure her. It wasn't as if he never had... it was a line that had been crossed before.…

He slid back on the bed, taking her with him, but turning her around so that her back pressed against his chest. Scooting forward, he spooned her, whispering against her ear, "close your eyes... feel good."

Simultaneously, he slipped one hand into her panties, firmly rubbing her where she needed him... where she was hot and wet for him, and caressed her with the other, groaning as her nipples peaked under his palm. Resisting the urge to buck against her hurt... he hurt... so bad, he knew he couldn't put her through what he was going through.

Dawn couldn't help but spread her legs for Spike's caresses, her breath hitching in her throat at how good he made her feel, how selfless he was being even in the throes of alcohol. Whimpering, she tried to stop his hand, to still it, though that was the last thing her needy body wanted. "Spike, it's not fair to you," she moaned, pressing back against the hot hard maleness behind her.

"Not fair you're with me... not fair to want you like this," he muttered, with his mouth firmly pressed against her shoulder as he fought the images in his head, and primordial messages from his body, urging him to mount her, to still her writhing in a different way, one that would make them both complete. Groaning, he trapped her hand against her sex. With his thumb over her wrist, he continued to move his own long fingers in and out of her, knowing he was jerking her hand with the movements of his... giving her double the pleasure.

Caught, and more than happy to be captive, Dawn bucked against the masterful touch of Spike's hand and her own, following where he led. Her other arm came up to clasp the back of his neck, behind her, holding him close as she writhed involuntarily, forward against his hand, back against his erection. Her mouth fell open in rising gasps, nearly inaudible but nonetheless intense.

The sounds she made, the way she trusted him so completely, gave herself over to him... it humbled him... even pissed and horny beyond belief... a part of him asked why... how she could be so trusting of him. As her motions became more frenzied, he almost bucked against her backside... as it was, she was grinding into him... driving him to the brink... making him want to tell his scruples to fuck off, so he could do the same. But there it was... that other part of him, the part that made him fight for her.

"Come on Bit, come on, that's right... almost there," he whispered, moving his mouth over her ear. "I've got you—" As she started to fall apart in his arms, his own world collapsed around him.

Shudders wracked Dawn's slender body, held safe in Spike's arms, cupped in Spike's hands, and she bit her lip to stay as quiet as she could as she came in a shaking rush, her back as tight to Spike's front as though they shared skin.

"Right... you're right as day now... right as day..." he stroked her hair, exhausted, mostly by the struggle against his own desires. "Don't move," he whispered, closing his eyes as if to shut out the feel of her against him, as if there was a way to forget the ache in his groin with her pressed against him, with her scent... and the scent of sex hanging in the air. "You're alright luv," he swallowed, and prayed for the darkness to swallow him and still the fires she stirred.

Her hand tightened on the nape of his neck, then caressed beneath the ends of his platinum-streaked brown waves. "You're not, though..." she replied, her voice full of a longing to make him feel good too. Tightening her thighs around his hand, knowing it was every bit as wrong as a boy who declared a girl meant yes when she said no, still Dawn wanted Spike. Unfair, unfair, unfair, her mind chanted at her. She bit her lip hard, trying to stop herself, and relaxed those long muscles again. "Sorry," she whispered.

"'s'alright," he gave a strained smile. "Sleep... please."

Dawn lay still as a stone in Spike's arms until his breathing calmed, then deepened, open mouthed snores from too much alcohol vibrating in her hair and along her nape. When she was sure he would not wake, she carefully removed herself from his bed and dressed again... but after a moment's thought, she tucked her panties, still damp and smelling of arousal, into a small ball and wrapped his fingers around them. Even if he didn't really remember... she wanted him to remember.

* * *

His head only hurt a little. It was nothing compared to what he'd felt when he'd left her in the library. A bit of drink to get that look in her eyes out of his head.

Right... he wasn't quite sure it had worked. His dreams had been full of Dawn. Her long hair sprawled over his chest, tickling, teasing him. Her mouth and tongue drawing patterns on his chest, burning him as surely as a brand.

God... it had been so vivid... it was still so vivid, he even smelled her scent with every breath he drew. Balling his fists, he felt something like netting in his palm. Blinking awake, he looked... and felt his heart drop.

Instantaneously, his cock grew hard and painful. "Bloody fucking hell," he cursed, staring at the panties, but not seeing them... seeing her instead... seeing her riding him, whipping her hair behind her body, arching the way he knew she could.

Groaning... feeling like an absolute cad, but unable to help himself, he wrapped the panties around his cock and stroked himself - hard, fast, with one goal in mind, to bring himself off before thoughts of her drove him to bloody Bedlam.

Dawn had gotten back to her room at exactly the wrong time to get any sleep, though her body was boneless and satisfied. Still, sneaking out of the teacher apartments, through the school, and back up to the girls' floor had been less than fun. Between the knee-quaking orgasm Spike had given her, and her nerves, she'd decided to stay up all night instead of trying to get sleep that would be inadequate and only leave her groggy. She'd been sitting in her windowsill, and discovered that her room and Spike's were across from one another in the quad. Watching him sleep had kept her occupied for the night.

Now that morning had come, however, it suddenly became much more rewarding, as he took her lacy panties from his fist, groaned, and began to stroke himself with them, hard, fast, and determined. Breathless, she watched, admiring the flex and play of muscles in his chest and arms as he wrapped his fist around an intimidating erection, teeth gritted and head flung back.

His chest rose and fell almost violently as he drew closer to release... imagined her tightening around his cock, the way she had around his finger.... she was damned tight. So tight. He groaned, and opened his eyes as he took a breath... then he saw her.

The blood drained from his head. He wouldn't be surprised if he matched the color of his sheets... or if he were growing paler under her scrutiny.

Dawn half rose in her window sill, eyes riveted on Spike's hand, until it stilled. Her eyes flashed up to his face, which was both shocked and dismayed. "Oh, god, don't stop," she whispered, even though there was no way the sound could carry over the distance between them. "Don't stop!" But he stared back, and did not continue.

The truth of it was, he wanted her in his room again, wanted her to watch him, to help him, to... no, he wanted her where she should be, out of his head, and in the class room with people her age. Balling up the silky panties, he tossed them on the bed, strode to the window, and with a single rough pull on the chain, closed the blinds.

Cold shower... that was to be his answer today. With every step he took, he felt the ache and weight of protest from his still hard cock. It would be a wonder if he survived this semester.

* * *

Dawn didn't linger in her room once Spike shut his blinds so decisively. Instead, since she was already awake, bathed, and dressed, she simply chose a musky perfume for the day, and headed for an early breakfast. It was an added benefit that none of the tennis team were there yet.

Loitering in the halls as the school awoke and got itself into gear, she made her way to Spike's first classroom. Although she wasn't in that class, she wasn't going to pass up a chance to see him. Leaning against the hall, she took out a book 'to kill time,' and waited for him, every nerve afire at the memory of his cock in his fist, her panties tangled around them both.

Spike straightened his tie, as he walked down the hall. His steps slowed when he saw her standing outside his class room. She wasn't in his class until later today.

He coughed lightly and gave her a questioning look. "I don't think this is a good idea," he said when he reached her. "They're already talking."

His mouth said one thing, his body craved something altogether different. Was she becoming an obsession? He knew vampires had that tendency, could he still be suffering from that?

Dawn looked up from her book as Spike approached. "I had some extra time this morning," she said casually. "Couldn't seem to get to sleep. I guess I'm not used to the cold British nights yet." She stepped closer after checking to be sure the hall was empty. "But I'll get over it eventually," she said, her voice lowered huskily. "Or something."

"You didn't sleep well? I'm sorry," he whispered. "I had a hard time of it myself... pun intended."

He looked away while searching his pocket for the key to the door. "We need to move on. Both of us, until... you're ready."

Dawn's eyes widened, then narrowed. "I am ready. But I can wait for you to see it. I wasn't sleepless because of... of... you know? You were... very thorough," she whispered in return, dropping her voice on the last two words. "But I'm glad I was awake... this morning... early." She smiled gently at him. "I just wish you weren't still... um... suffering?"

He felt his forehead get damp and wiped at it. "I'm fine. It's not a life or death situation." His gaze pierced a student who had been walking by so slowly that it was obviously a matter of curiosity. When the kid rushed off, he started to unlock the door.

"Okay, then," Dawn replied with an indifference she totally was not feeling. She rested her hand on his briefly as he struggled with the key, helping him to turn it smoothly. "My specialty," she joked, and let her fingers trail off. "Unlocking things. See you in Vic. Lit."

If the key hadn't been in the door, it would have slipped out of his fingers the moment she touched him and sent waves of desire crashing through his system. Every time he thought he got a hold of himself, she happened.

His muscles tensed, his chest constricted... blood rushed to his groin. He was starting to get used to being in this condition around her. Not really... he was fooling himself and not doing a bang up job of it.

"Good morning then," he said, a bit abruptly as he pushed the door open and rushed to get inside.

"Later," she said lightly, and turned to go, hair and hem flying up and out behind her.

With a low groan, he shut the door and pressed his forehead against it. It was only morning and he had the entire day to survive.

* * *

Spike sat on the edge of his desk as his class quietly filtered out of the room. The usual ruckus and joking was noticeably absent, but he caught the whispered complaints about his mood and the amount of homework he'd given.

His fingers drummed on the desk, a way to expend energy. Was it too much to hope that Dawn wouldn't come to class this morning? Perhaps her drama coach would hold her up. Or she might not want to see him and find an excuse.…

... or she might show up in the flesh, and be tugging at her shirt as she walked in. He merely stared at her as she found a seat.

"Hi, Mr. Spike," Dawn chirped as the rest of the class filed in and she took her usual seat directly in front of his desk, crossing her long tanned legs and smoothing her little skirt down over them before leaning over to take out her textbook and a pen. Then leaning over to get paper. Then leaning over a final time to pull a candy sucker out of her bag.

Each time she moved, each time her thighs rubbed together... he wanted to be between them. And when she finally sat still, he was lost... he wanted to be that lolli slipping in and out of her mouth, getting licked by that pink tongue... getting swallowed.

He was absolutely mesmerized, and didn't realize it until his book dropped onto the desk with a thud. Scowling at the laughter, he turned the pages.

Dawn was very careful not to smirk her triumph. That would be crass. Instead, she simply raised her eyebrows inquiringly, and turned the pages of her book to the day's lesson.

"Gerald, tell us what point Blake is trying to get across in the first paragraph." "Michael, what or who does the 'red rose' signify?" "----WHAT was Dawn's frinds name who wrote the note? ---, it is quite clear you haven't done your homework, would you like to tell the class exactly what it was that might have kept you that busy?" he had a sneaking suspicion about who might have written the note to Dawn, but that wasn't the only reason he was hard on the class. He shot his questions out, but barely registered the answers at all, merely nodding.

His mind was on Dawn, his gaze was constantly drawn to her mouth, or to that finger that tugged at her long hair. She was slowly whipping him up into a frenzy and quite possibly didn't realize it.

Quite deliberately, Dawn inserted the rounded candy, with its ridged seam around the middle, into her mouth, and swirled her tongue around it. She closed her lips and pulled it out again with a nearly audible pop, and then licked her lips clean before sliding the sucker between them again. But she kept her eyes on her book and her head tilte3d slightly down... the better to watch Spike pace, as it was a better indicator than his admittedly sharp voice as to how he was feeling.

The Spike she'd known had rarely been still, filled with a restless energy that had him always ready for a fight or... she blushed faintly... other things. And both Spikes were men of action. This Spike, however... her Spike... he still had the poet's soul and the tender regard for her well-being, undimmed by his demon. He might think she was waiting. Dawn knew she was merely regrouping.

His breathing changed as his mind was assaulted by images of her tounging his ridge like that, sucking... making that faint... indecent sound. He was burning up, unable to continue, and yet unable to cancel the remainder of class without a reason.

"Surprise test," he announced, amid groans from the students. The sound of rustling paper finally stilled and he started to read questions listed at the end of the chapter of their text book. A nice, mindless task... the sort he usually abhorred with a passion, but needed at this moment.

And it was mindless... so much so that he hardly realized he'd been pacing up and down the rows of students, and now stood over Dawn. With her head tilted down, her hair shook as she erased an answer. He rubbed his palm along his thighs, then almost groaned when she lifted her chin and exposed her throat and creamy breasts.

Dawn rewrote the correct answer where she'd made an error, utterly conscious of the warmth of Spike beside her, his belt buckle at a level with her shoulder. Her head snapped up as the bell rang, and as the other students made a break for the door, grumbling mightily at the rough class today, she took her time writing her name at the top of the paper, then rose and headed for the assignment drop off at the back of the room. She placed her paper in the basket, and then, in a quick motion, shot the deadbolt of the door to.

"Dawn?" his gaze followed her. "What are you doing?" He knew what his body and soul wanted her to be doing, but that bloody part called his heart had other ideas. "We agreed last night..."

"Did we?" She arched her eyebrows at him and came back at a steady pace, hips swaying.

He took a step back. "Yes. You were... extremely sensible." When she came so close he could feel the heat of her body, he groaned. "Dawn, you're enough to make a groan man cry. Behave... please."

"What I was," she said, invading his space even more, "was considerate. Because you'd been drinking. And because I didn't want you to excuse anything that happened or didn't because of it. But you're not drunk now."

"No, I'm not drunk," he swallowed and put his hands out to sto her from getting closer. "But I am your teacher. Even what we did last night shouldn't have happened, but I couldn't leave you like..."

There was that stubborn look on her face, the one that scared him. "You're going to be late for class," he took another step back. He should steer her to the door and shut it behind her, but he was afraid to touch her.

Dawn advanced again, carefully maneuvering Spike toward a storage room in the back of the class. It was tiny. It was dim. It had another lock. "My next class is Watcher Training," she reminded him. "Under you."

"Oh God, Dawn..." he was inside the closet, and to his shame, he was pulling her in with him, "just one kiss," he muttered, bringing his mouth over her, invading it with his tongue, in and out, like her lolli... She should taste like a child, but to him, right now... she was all woman.

He dragged her up harder against his frame, needing to feel her, burning everywhere she touched him. "I thought I was going to burn in hell after I died," he muttered against her lips.

Dawn shoved the door shut behind them and ran her fingers over the lock casing. It snapped shut with a bright clicking sound. "You've been there, done that," she murmured up against his mouth, and dove into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair.

"Different type of hell, you're supposed to be an angel and have mercy," he complained between kisses. Fire raced through his system and showed no signs of abating as their tongues tangled, and pushed into each others' mouths in an ancient dance.

When Dawn had to pull back to catch her breath, she replied. "Mercy's exactly what I'm about right now," she whispered, her hands leaving his hair for his belt buckle, nimble fingers undoing it and the buttons above his fly almost in one motion.

The tugging on his buckle sent only one message to his body... relief. He was so hard and thick... had been for so long, that fighting was out of the question. He - needed - this. It was wrong, but he did.

His breathing was erratic as he shifted to open his legs, and helped her push his jeans open. The first fiery touch of her hand on his cock had him gripping her shoulder. "I can't ask you to stop," he whispered, his voice harsh and sad in the dark.

"And I never intended to," Dawn replied, sounding much older than she was. "Last night was ...wonderful for me. Not so much for you," she said wryly, dropping to her knees in the narrow space. "And I want this. A whole world of want this," she whispered, feeling him surge between her hands like a live thing.

Instinctively, he slid his fingers into her hair, brushing it off her face but tugging her close. He was throbbing for her touch... just one touch of those lips on him. "And I never intended this," he said, knowing he would regret later what he couldn't resist now.

She gave him a quick, hot lick along his length. "If good intentions take us to Hell," she commented wryly, "maybe the bad ones take us someplace else entirely." Dawn pursed her lips and slid them slowly, inexorably, over Spike's erection, taking the head into her mouth with soft suction, and then sliding her lips along his length until her lips closed around the base. Inside her mouth, her tongue stroked firmly along him, tasting the sweet warmth of his skin and the salty tang of pre-cum, still new and somehow incredibly familiar.

As she made him slick with her wet tongue, he grew harder... so hard ... so sensitive to her every touch. He clenched his hand in the tangles of her hair, trying to control himself... to allow her to explore before giving him the release he needed.

The sensations rocking his body made him want to shout, to fuck her mouth, to ease the building pressure. He sought purchase with one hand, banging his elbow on a shelf in the confined space and cursing. "Dawn..." he arched toward her.

She took him in, held him tightly, tongued his slit and the ridge at his head with enthusiasm and care, doing her best to make him feel that this was not a bad thing, or wrong, or damned. She worshipping his erection with hands and mouth, teeth and tongue, laving him with rough strokes and gentle, until his movements made her choose a tempo that was faster and deeper.

The blood roared in his ears as she licked and sucked and stroked him. He was so lost in the moment, he forgot her youth and inexperience, and began to fuck her mouth hard... trying to obtain relief from the sweet torture that had begun not in the closet, but hours ago when he'd first awakened.

"More," he growled, needing the pressure, arching when she gave it to him. "Oh God..." he gripped the shelf as he came, slapping his hand against it as he rode the explosion of his orgasm. "Dawn..." he made another sound, then leaned down and put his forehead on hers. "Thank you," he said a bit awkwardly. "Not quite what usually goes on in my broom closet."

Delicately she wiped a stray thread of semen from her lips, and sucked it from her finger, still on her knees, her wide blue eyes meeting his. She took his head between her hands and kissed his forehead, then rose to her feet, their bodies brushing together. "Spike," she said softly, her throat a bit raw from the untrammeled pounding it had taken, but her heart light as air, "I've been wanting to do that practically since I saw you at the airport. I know you didn't want to be in this position. I-- I don't want to stop. But I don't want to hurt you either."

"You hurt me? You can't," he pulled her close, "it's the opposit. I don't want to hurt you. I think I already have, whether you realize it or not." He kissed her and pulled back, then started to straighten his clothes.

"I am forcing you to grow up faster than you should. I am... the last person on earth you should be doing this with..." a sharp twinge of jealousy had him wanting to tear the first male teenager who got his claws into her apart, "your teacher... your mentor... your friend and... what was I, a stand-in parent in Sunnydale..."

He looked down into her face, and swept her hair back. "I know you want to argue, I know this feels right... I'm struggling with it myself. But it's not, and a thousand people will tell you so. You can't see it because you're involved. I can't see it because I'm a right bastard and I don't know how to stop this train. I wish I did."

Dawn shook her head, tired of the argument. "No, you don't," she said. "And neither do I. Not if you're honest with yourself."

"I know it is wrong to have a tumble with you in here, and then take you to the practice room and be your assigned trainer." He pulled his belt through the buckle, emphasizing his words.

She didn't understand, would not. He pushed the door open and motioned for her to go first.

Dawn stared, stung, and went.

(A/N: if you would like notice of updates on fics I write either alone or with co-authors, join here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Bloody_Bad_Poet_Fic/ )

(Please leave f/b - thankies!)