Temptation

(Characters are Joss', not ours)

November passed quickly, and before Dawn knew it, December was upon them. Nearly the end of her semester abroad. She wondered how she’d possibly make it without seeing Spike every day… caressing him on the sly… teasing him when she knew they’d both be giving in to the temptation to get hot and sweaty together every time the opportunity safely arose. They never went to the same hotel twice, but around once a week, they’d manage an entire night together. Sleeping wrapped in his arms was its own reward, too, not to mention the other naughty things they tried, and fantasies they indulged.

Classes were smoother, too. The tennis players had backed the fuck off, which was only smart. Of course, with Giselle and her lover withdrawn from this school, transferred to another, all-girls institution, there was no ringleader to whip the tennis team into a frenzy of jealousy and bitchiness. That was, like, way nice. And also of course, the little notes about home-movie stardom in their lab notes for Chem class hadn’t exactly hurt. More like a warning and a pointed reminder not to mess with Dawn. Which totally seemed to have worked.

The only frustration Dawn felt was that Spike still wouldn’t go all the way. She wanted him inside her with a fever that blazed hotter every day, and by him, she didn’t mean his fingers or his talented tongue, both of which were more than capable of making her forget her name for long stretches of blissful and sexy time. And damn, but the man was an excellent tutor!

And she was a totally inspired student.

*

Archer asked Dawn to come to the wall of the training room. "You are each going to be tied in this manner," he said, wrapping rope around her wrists, knotting it, then tugging the rope up and looping it around the hook on the wall, high above her head. "And chained." He lifted the heavy links, and chained her legs to the wall.

Turning his back to her, he then walked to the center of the room. "Of course you'll be in separate locations around the school. When and if you free yourself, you will check in with me. And those of you who don't get free... you obviously need additional escape arts training. Any questions?"

Spike was leaning against a pillar, smirking. Never one to be out done, Dawn was working her bindings. Any moment now, he expected the class would break out into laughter.

Dawn gritted her teeth, and concentrated hard. She wasn't the Key for nothing! But being unable to reach the padlocks made things a little trickier, for sure, and she still wasn't sure how she'd handle the ropes whose knots she couldn't reach! But she'd worry about those second, and the big locks and heavy chains first.

It wasn't helping her concentration one damned bit that Spike was over there, smirking at her, either... it just made her want to nibble on that sexy lower lip of his, and try the bindings out for something entirely different!

She shot him a mock-death glare, and sniped, "Something funny, Mr. Spike? Or are you just kinky like that?"

All eyes turned to him. He continued to smirk. "There are some things you'll never find out, Ms. Summers." He didn't say what things, did he?

"It's okay," she assured him blithely. "Old guys don't have much energy anyway," she taunted, winking at her fellow Watchers-in-Training. And the by-play ought to be distracting enough, as the heads all ping-ponged back to him... yes. There it was, that satisfying little click of a lock unlocked, its secrets hers. Damned if it wasn't nearly as addictive as Spike... but not nearly as intoxicating.


Spike watched as the chains slowly slid down her legs and to the ground. A glance at Archer showed him that the Watcher...was not watching. "Not quite true, we're just like old Fords... need to be cranked up, then we're revving to go, yeah?"

And there was one person in the room that could really crank him up. Just the thought of her palm gliding over his shaft wiped the smile off his face.

"If you say so," Dawn returned in a dubious tone, flicking her tongue at him when she was sure no one else was watching her.

Now for the ropes, the harder part of the assignment. She craned her neck back, trying to get a better look at the arrangement holding her captive. It was pure accident, of course, that the motion thrust her breasts outward and bared a slice of skin at her belly, now winter-pale from London's seasonal fug.

Spike fought off the desire to touch her, to slide his hand across that sliver of skin peeking out every now and again, to show her it didn't take much to crank him up. But then she knew it. His eyes promised her revenge. "That's the thing about classics... not everyone appreciates them." He made a motion with his hand, cluing her in on the easiest way to unhook the rope... easier said than done.

Dawn tilted her head to the side, trying to decipher his movement. Maybe if she.... "Try living in the twentieth century before the twenty-first gets much older, Mr. Spike," she sassed, trying to get her thumb tucked as his had been. Her hands were pretty tiny. She might be able to just slide out of the ropes. The baddies always seemed to use giganormous cuffs on Buffy, that was for damned sure!

"Might need a bit of help with that. Must be why I train young brats in... the arts." He felt that type of training session coming on, maybe even tonight. He'd make her eat those words and beg for his classic Ford to park in her modern garage. Driveway... no getting into the garage yet, he reminded himself.

Dawn wasn't getting anywhere tucking her thumb in and trying to slither free of the ropes holding her arms above her head, but it did give her another idea. Maybe there would be slack if she went up on tiptoe, instead, and she could flip the loop off of the hook. "Like anyone can drive anywhere in London," she grumbled, going on tiptoe. The chains fell the rest of the way from her legs and feet, clattering onto the ground with a musical chiming sound, as she strained higher and worked the ropes.

The sound had other heads turning, including Archer's. Spike caught the man's silent curse, then met his rueful look and shrugged. "Kids these days..."

One hand on his cheek, Archer laughed. She had a ways to go, but it was quite clear she was getting out. "And this... is a demo of what you're supposed to do, instead of just... hanging there."

"Yeah...right.. that's it." The room was alive with commentary, and people cheering Dawn on.

Dawn worked on the timing of the whole thing, getting a feel for how the rope might move, and then jumped as she flipped it. The added foot caused the rope to bounce clear of the hook, and she flourished it like a cape as she took a bow. "Hope you Watchers made the smart bets this time," she teased. Sure, the rope was still knotted around her wrists, but she had plenty of play for staking, and her feet were free as could be. "And now would be the time to run away from the bad guys' lair," she commented, "coming back later with grenades. Or something equally boomy."

"I'll take the rope with extra gripping then," Spike said walking over and patting her head, knowing it would burn her up. Quickly, he freed her. "We'll take the music room," he announced to the others, as he chose the bindings for his trainee.

"Hey, no fair, I have to do this again?" Dawn pouted.

"Archer's easy... I'm..." he gave her a heated look. Couldn't quite claim not to be easy, could he?

"Stubborn as two mules?" She patted him on the head, just as he had her. "It's okay, Mr. Spike, I wouldn't want anyone else training me. Even if you are kinda old... fashioned."

"Old fashioned my arse," he said under his breath, as they walked out into the night. The instant they were out of view, he tugged her close and kissed her. "Don't you know it's dangerous to taunt an old man, luv?"

Dawn parted her lips eagerly, swirling her tongue around his with a newly-won expertise. She nibbled on his lower lip as she pulled back, and whispered, "Oh, I hope so...."

"Be careful what you wish for." He stopped outside her dorms, and gave her a push. "Go on then. Get your highest heels. Wouldn't hurt if you changed into a skirt, either."

Dawn's eyebrows arched, and a slow smile crept onto her lips. "See you in the Music Room," she said, and darted up the stairs. Heels, easy. Skirt... short! And panties... not included in the fresh clothing. Strictly a no-panty zone! She brushed her hair and swiped on some lipstick before bouncing down the stairs again and heading for the Music Room.

Arms crossed, he was waiting at the door. From a distance, he watched her hair swinging... watched her skirt swishing around her thighs. And the heels... he swallowed hard, wondering if this had been a good idea.

Dawn could see Spike waiting for her in the doorway, and just the line of his body and the crossing of his arms was enough to send a shiver of anticipation down her spine. No one wore heels for training, so what did he have in mind? Her thighs slipped smoothly past each other as she approached, a curious look on her face. "I don't think I'll usually be fighting baddies in heels," she commented in a quizzical tone, "so what gives?" She licked her lips, sure that it would be... educational.

"The heels aren't for fighting." He openly let his gaze travel down the full length of her body. "They're for the tying up. Ever hear of anyone get tied up in flats?"

He reached out and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, following the trail of her tongue. "Come inside."

She kissed his thumb, wrapping her lips around it for a second. "Well, I did once. But that was for a sacrifice, and not for naughty fun," she told him forthrightly. Brushing past him and into the room, she looked archly over her shoulder. "I hope you don't think I'm going down easy...."

"I think I'll be doing the going down," he pointed overhead. "You'll be busy trying to get free."
Cas: An old fashioned chandelier hung overhead. It was a heavy beam, with wrought iron workings on it, and lightbulbs where once there might have been candles. He'd screwed a hook into the bottom of the beam.

Give me your wrists, he said, his voice thickening as he imagined her at his mercy.
Ironlily: [woot!]

Dawn's mouth had gone dry at the thought of being at Spike's mercy... and at his suggestion that he'd be the one going down. There was even a hook in the ceiling beam from which the chandelier hung. Her whole body thrummed with anticipation, and when he demanded her wrists, her half-born thoughts of resisting trickled away. Wordlessly, she extended them to him, her eyes wide and dark.

He put a leather wrist cuff around her slender wrist, and tightened it. Then did the same on her other wrist. There was a strap between the cuffs, he tugged arms up using the strap and sliding it over the hook on the overhead beam.

Taking a step back, he took in her silhouette. Even in the heels, she was slightly on her tip toes. Her back arched, causing her sexy ass to thrust out... and her breasts started to heave.

He stepped behind her. "You're not scared, are you?" his hands started to stroke her legs, her thighs... just touching the hem of her skirt.

Experimentally, Dawn tugged at her bonds. The leather cuffs were wide and shaped to allow her to grip a strap that crossed upward along her palm, offering support at the same time as they pinioned her arms above her head quite effectively. They almost looked as though they'd been shaped with... suspending a person in mind. Her heart started to flutter faster, and her breath came in pants. "No," she lied. "Maybe some," she corrected, acutely aware of him passing behind her, and the feather-light touches of his hands along her legs. Completely involuntarily, she writhed where she stood, trying to find his body with hers. "Please don't tell me these are standard Watcher gear," she joked nervously. "I'll never look at tweed the same way again."

"No, they're mine." He reached up, checked her bindings one more time, then slowly caressed her bare arms. Back and forth, then lower, over her chest. When his hands were over her high breasts, he suddenly pulled her flush against his body. His body's reaction was instant... his cock pressed against her backside. "See... doesn't take much."

She ground her rear against him, awareness of her panty-free state making her that much more excited and eager. "Vroom," she replied breathlessly.

"You, on the other hand... you've been a bad, bad girl, haven't you?" He skimmed his mouth over her shoulder, moving his hands up and down her captive body. "Owe me an apology for the old man cracks, yeah?" The last was punctuated by the motion of his hand, cupping her sex over her skirt.

She whimpered, pressing forward now, wanting those clever long fingers deep inside of her. "S-seasoned," she deadpanned, as well as her breathless state would let her. "I meant seasoned."

"Mmm. I'm sure you did. Still... can't compete with the younger boys. Probably shouldn't try." He swept his hands down the fronts of her thighs, feeling her muscles tense under his palms... knowing how strong she was... how those thighs could squeeze. Sliding both hands up the inner thigh at the same time, he bucked against her. "Bloody hell... you're not wearing knickers!" he moved his hands lower, thrusting against her to ease the ache in his straining cock. She didn't fight fair.

"I forgot to do laundry," she teased, her gasps at his touch making what should have been an insouciant quip come out broken and panting instead. Her thighs pinned his hands between them, and she twisted in place, needing his touch.

"You're not going to make some bloke a nice housewife, are you?" he tugged his hand out, then walked around in front of her, and dropped to his knees. Leaning forward, he started to kiss her legs... from her knees, down to the arch of her feet, and back up. She was so silky smooth, and her strawberry scent... so at odds with what she was wearing... only made his yearning that much the sharper.

"Never happen," she assured him, swaying into his touch, feeling heat shoot through her at the sight of his head near her thighs, his platinum streaked brown hair brushing against her hypersensitive skin. She found herself gripping the restraints with all of her strength, as her knees debated whether they were going on strike or not.

"What with the leaving off of the knickers, and the wearing of the heels... won't be much work happening in your household." He licked a trail up her inner thigh, nipping her once.

She squeaked in surprise at the nip, but the sharp contrast to his warm wet tongue sent shudders through her, the difference making each touch even more effective in sending her brain all the way to Aruba. "MMmmm, no, with the work, not so much," she managed, barely. She tried to spread her legs, for balance and for his touches, but he'd bound her just that little bit too high, and trying to widen her stance only made her sway from the hook, utterly at his mercy. She was willing to bet that it was rather non-existent, just at the moment. Biting her lip, Dawn closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Don't move so much," he suggested, knowing he was making it more and more difficult for her to hold still. He drew in her musky scent, then licked her between her legs. Rubbing his tongue back and forth, he felt her shiver... heard the leather creaking as she tried to lower her body toward him. "We're doing this the old fashioned way... slow..."

Dawn's hips jerked at the intimate, tender touch, desperately needing more, harder, deeper, faster. "Revenge... not so cold here," she pointed out as steadily as she could, her thighs nudging against his shoulders as she swayed with every lick.

"Not so cold," he slid his hands behind her thighs and brought her closer to him, moving his head back and forth as he pleasured her.

She started to make those sounds that drove him wild. This was no exception, he was hard, so hard that another part of his anatomy was threatening to take over all functions from his brain.

"Ohhhh," Dawn moaned, nearly growling at the intensity of the sensual torture Spike was inflicting on her. His hands were already spreading her thighs, so hooking her knee over his shoulder just seemed like a natural progression, opening her wider to his skilled hands and tongue, and letting her find a point of balance in a world that was spinning crazily. Or perhaps that was just her head, dizzy from the arousal?

He lifted himself up slightly, thrusting his tongue inside her now... feeling her clamping around him, wanting to fill her with his cock... to feel her squeeze him. As the images tumbled through his head, he broke away and stood up.

She was trembling... every inch of her. Wobbly on those heels, and yet she gazed proudly at him. "You're beautiful," he said, running his finger down her throat and chest, the splaying his hand across her flat belly. "I want you... God how I want you." Body and soul, he wanted her...

"I'm yours," she whispered, barely able to stay upright, so hungry for him that it actually hurt. "Anytime, anywhere." Her belly twitched beneath his hand, and she was unable to stop herself from moaning, from trying to rub up against him, shameless as a cat in heat. "Now," she rasped, "would be really, really good."

He moved his hand lower, and abruptly moved behind her, deftly undoing his pants with the other hand. Pressing his raging arousal against her naked backside, he stroked her sex, moving against her as she moved against his hand... both seeking relief, both with each others' names on their lips. "One day... one day I'll have the right to bend you over a table. Until then..."
This would have to do. Harder and harder he pressed against her, reveling in the way she squirmed, moving his free hand up and down her body at the same time as it kept her close.

Dawn whimpered helplessly, bounced back and forth between his hand and his cock, grasping the leather cuff straps like a lifeline, begging and moaning at his masterful touch, and spiraling higher and higher into the realms of sensual insanity at the idea of Spike bending her over a table, taking her fully, plunging deep inside. His cock felt hot and silky against her ass, between her thighs, steely and warm and a further torment to add to his wicked, wicked fingers on her clit and deep inside of her. She gave herself over completely to him, crying his name as she came in what seemed an endless wave, her body gripping his hand in a velvety vise.

With each long stroke, his cock slid up and down, pressing against her tantalizing opening. If she were bent... if... he'd be plunging so deep inside her, she'd never get him out. "Inside you... argh... I'm inside you," he growled, letting his imagination give him what he wouldn't allow himself. "You're so tight... I want to wait, but I can't... I'm so hard Dawn, I can't..."

Shuddering between his hands, Dawn rocked back against him, whimpering at the relentless sensations that kept her coming, shuddering, sobbing his name brokenly. "Please— God— Spike— Spike!"

Between her cries, and his imagination, he was burning up. His thrusts became more furious, less controled, his hand moved faster and faster against her slick wetness. He wanted to be there... he wanted it... He looked up at the restraints as he bucked forward... temptation... frustration.... and then he started to come. Hard, sharp movements brought him home, but he kept stroking her, kept milking her orgasm, letting her ride it for as long as she could.

It didn't take long, once Dawn felt the wash of Spike's heat across her backside, for her to become completely wrung out and limp, hanging in the restraints, hair falling forward in her face and her whimpers dying raggedly away. After a long while, she whispered, almost conversationally, "I love you, you know?"

"I know." He kissed her throat, and without removing his mouth, moved around her body to face her. "I love you too, Bit." Lifting his face, he told her again. "If I did all of this with you and didn't, I'd be a very bad man. I'm not a good one, but I'm not... I'm not playing with you."

She swayed forward and kissed him softly on his beautiful mouth. "I know that," she assured him. "If you were, you wouldn't have waited so long... you wouldn't be making yourself keep waiting."

He accepted her kiss and let her take the lead. It was sweet and soft, like his girl, with an edge that hinted at heat and strength, just like his girl. They were locked in the kiss for a long time, breaking only to breath. He held her close, caressed her... loved her.

* * *

Dawn never had remembered to report to Archer the night before, but that was okay. She overslept for her first class, but that was okay too. Nothing was going to get her down, now, and with Spike in love with her, it was just a matter of time before she could have everything in the world that could make her happy. Oh, who was she kidding? All it took to make her happy was knowing that Spike loved her, and that he was glad she loved him!

As she walked along the hallways to breakfast, other students stared at her and whispered, but she never did catch what they were talking about. Not like it mattered, though. She’d be seeing Spike soon enough. At breakfast. If not there, certainly in Vic. Lit. If she were a singer, she’d totally be singing!

The weird whispers followed her through the cafeteria line, too, but everyone kept hushing when Dawn came nearby. She started to feel a bit concerned, especially when she saw the Dean, who never made an appearance in the cafeteria except for meals on special occasions, also looking at her from across the way. But as soon as her eyes collided with his, he looked away. For that matter, everyone did.

What the hell was going on?

The morning just got more and more surreal as it progressed, and when it finally came time for Vic. Lit., Dawn was on the raggedy edge from the weird vibes she’d been receiving all damned morning long.

At least she’d see Spike now, and get the pleasure of his company, even if the other pleasures were pretty much off limits during the daytimes. Over the past month, though, that was okay. The nights were all kinds of naughty, and that suited her just fine!

She turned into the classroom, a smile on her lips, skirt swishing sassily about her thighs, and stopped cold.

Spike was not there. Instead, a hatchet-faced woman with grey hair and an incongruous bow in her locks droned on through the most boring lesson Dawn had ever experienced, while she worried herself into a near-frenzy about Spike. Class finally ended and Dawn felt as though she’d been released from prison. Surely, surely she’d see Spike at Watcher Training!

But no.

And she didn’t dare ask where he was.

Finally freed, Dawn sprinted back to the school, hoping to find Spike there. But he was nowhere. At last, in desperation and despair, she stole into the corridor where the teachers’ apartments were, and opened the locked door to his rooms with a simple turn of her wrist. They were dark. Deserted. Every personal touch was gone, and even the bed had been stripped.

He’d left her. Left them.

Utterly devastated, she fell onto the bed and wrapped herself around his pillow, in a vain hope that his scent would linger, that she’d feel some hint of his presence. But he was gone. Gone as though he’d never been. Gone as though he’d never touched her, kissed her, held her. Loved her. She felt a pain in her chest, and was sure it was her heart breaking.

Dawn never knew how long she wept, but her eyes were sore and her heart was more so. Full dark had come, and Dawn’s mental state had gone from despair to a forlorn sort of hope. He would come back. He had to come back. She had to believe that he would come back for her. For them.

* * *


As soon as it got dark, Spike melted out of the shadows cast by the wall surrounding the school. All day long, he'd wanted to come find her, but they'd be expecting him, and at least the watchers side of the program knew about his stealth skills. Best that he do this at night.

Without stirring even a blade of grass, he made it to the dorms and quickly determined she wasn't in her room. It was a bit late to be at the library, but he checked and found no trace of her there. Watcher training was over for the night, so where could she be?

And then it struck him. She'd be where he ought to be. His place.

After making sure there was no surveillance equipment - he wouldn't put it past them to have hooked something up - he made his way into the faculty apartments. Finding no one in the long hallway, he made his way upstairs and to his now abandoned apartment.

He tried the handle. It turned. A moment later, he was inside in the dark livingroom. Everything was still, and quiet. Or was it.

The silence was broken by the sound of sobs. They came far and apart, but it was from his old bedroom.

One second of joy at finding her was replaced by a weight that crushed his heart and spirit, when she turned tear filled eyes towards him.

"Dawn..." In a few strides, he crossed the room and sat on the bed, pulling her into his arms. "Shshsh…."

She burrowed into his embrace, crawled into his lap, and held on tightly. "I'm okay, it's okay," she told him, feeling exhausted. "No one would speak to me today. I didn't know what had happened to you."

He closed his arms tightly around her, feeling her heart pounding against his own. "They didn't tell you." His grip tightened as he closed his eyes. What must she have thought. After last night... after he told her this was for real, what must it have been like to find him gone. She had to have though he was a scoundrel, a liar... and yet here she was in his arms.

He exhaled loudly. "They were waiting for me. Here, in my room. They knew you weren't in your room, and I couldn't explain. Really, they didn't need an explanation, they'd found my book of poems... about you. I'm sorry if you were scared or alone."

"I was both," she whispered. "So I came here and cried until I realized something. I have to believe in you. In us. It took me a while, but I knew you'd come back." Dawn looked up at him through tear-clumped lashes. "’Cause nothing else would make any sense."

"No... nothing else would." He lowered his mouth and kissed her tenderly. First her eyes, then her pink tipped nose, then her mouth. Stroking her cheek, he broke the kiss.

"I can't be here anymore. I won't be your watcher. We won't see each other—" his voice broke.

"No!" Dawn gasped in horror. "But that's, that's... ridiculous! I'm of age here, okay, yeah, maybe teacher and student wasn't okay, but watcher and watcher... please, say it's not true? Spike?" She dipped her head and searched his beautiful blue eyes, deeper hued now with a sorrow that pierced her, too. "Spike?"

"They won't allow it, Dawn. I'm out." He swallowed hard. "No, don't cry, don't... I'll find a way. I will. It won't be often, but... when this blows over, when they stop watching you..."

She'd thought she was cried out. She really had. Didn't think there was another tear to shed. And yet, somehow, slow hot salt was leaking from her eyes, one tear at a time, as Dawn looked up at Spike, despairing. "You're leaving... aren't you?"

For one, crazy, wild moment, he actually thought of taking her with him. They could end up anywhere, be together. But he didn't want that for her. He wanted her to finish her education, to have broad choices later in her life. Tamping down on his selfish desires, he didn't mention that option.

Lowering his head, he kissed her hands on his shirt, then put his forehead against hers. "I want that. I want it too, and it will happen. We'll get there sometime. Now... now we treasure the moments we find. Savor them. Think of them as a glimpse of our future."

She closed her eyes, nodding faintly, and stilled against him, trying to even out her breathing. Suddenly, she opened her eyes again, and fastened her lips to his, tongue licking along the seam of his mouth. Her hands slid into his hair and tugged him to her, slanting their lips together with a desperate hunger.

He opened his mouth to her exploration, running his fingers through her hair, then sliding his hand behind her neck and pulling her closer as his own tongue dipped inside her mouth. She was his, and they were going to take her from him. Even if this wasn't right... what they were doing to them wasn't right either. How as he going to face his days with this... without her? How could he give her up?

How could he leave her in the care of others? Not know where she was, and what she was doing? As his distress increased, so did the force of his kisses. Passion flared between them. He laid her down on the bed and started to push her blouse up her body. "Dawn?" he muttered thickly, skimmng his mouth over her bare abdomen.

She arched against him, fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer to her, saying, "Yes, Spike, please... I need you so bad, I love you, don't make me wait anymore?"

"No... no more waiting." He helped her take her blouse off, then sucked in his breath. "You're beautiful." Reaching down, he pulled his own top off and dropped it to the ground, then stood up and unzipped his pants. This time, nothing would stop them. Nothing.

Dawn rolled to her side to see him better, eyes devouring the beauty of his body, which was still nothing compared to the beauty she knew was in his soul. "You are too," she told him solemnly, mouth suddenly dry at the thought of seeing all of her Spike.

"I think I've brainwashed you into liking antiques." He dropped his shorts, his gaze never leaving hers as he approached the bed. "If you want a newer model, now's the time to speak."

"No way," she assured him, reaching a finger to stroke along his length. "Not in this lifetime."

A fiery heat washed over him. He grew hard and heavy, pulsed under her light touch. "'Bout that garage... I think I'm parking inside tonight." Joke.. yes... joking was one way of not losing it with her.

She smiled up at him, taking his hands in hers, and pulled him to the bed beside her, nervous and excited and painfully in love all at the same time. "If you don't," she told him, "I might cry again. And you don’t want that," she mock-threatened.

"No, there'll be none of that," he agreed, running his hand up and down her abdomen, then slowly working the side zipper of her plaid skirt. He lowered his mouth to her belly, then followed the trail of the skirt as he slid it down her body.

Dawn arched her back, making it easier to slide the skirt down and away, her belly quivering under his tender, expert touch. "Good," she murmured.

Playfully, he nipped at her toes, then skimmed his mouth back up her leg. His hand and his tongue explored the edges of her panty. He felt her arch, and chuckled. "You quite sure..."

"Please," she said on a gasp, still unstable from her crying jag and unfounded fears, "please stop asking me that. I love you, Spike. Please, make love with me."

"It was a joke, bit," he slipped his fingers under the sides of her panties and pulled the panties off. He slowly lowered himself over her. "I'm going to make love with you all night long... school be damned. It's you and me now."

They were skin to skin now... a first. He wanted to enjoy every minute of it, wanted to feel all of her with all of him. As he explored her curves with his hands, he slid his body along hers, feeling her legs slide against his, fighting for breath as his heart raced and desire flooded his system.

Dawn felt overwhelmed by the sensations along her entire body, so much more skin touching than ever before, with the warm solid weight of Spike on her breast, between her legs. She writhed beneath him wanting to be closer. To be one. Her hands stroked along his shoulders, his neck, his back... exploring hard muscle and silky skin wherever she could reach, caressing him and reveling in it.

He arched under her touch, bringing his lower body in even closer contact with hers. His cock ached and strained against her. When she opened her legs for him, he felt how warm and wet she was for him. Groaning, he rubbed his thumb over her nipple, closing his mouth over it as it peaked and sucking hard.

The nerves in Dawn's nipple shot straight to her core, raised her hips in reflex to invite him inside, and she whimpered with need, her mouth open and her fingers digging into his back, nails scoring faint lines there.

As the pressure intensified, he could no longer deny himself... or her. Adjusting himself, he surged inside, gritting his teeth as she closed hot hot and tight around him. He was afraid to push further, and yet his body demanded it. His arms bulged as he tried to keep the entirety of his weight off her, and to allow her to get used to him.

Dawn cried out at the sudden fullness of Spike within her, but the cry was more of surprise than of pain, though there was some of that too. It faded to nothing as her body adjusted, wet and tight, around him, and she began to lift her hips against him in a shallow rhythm, wanting more movement, more friction, more wonderful sensations from Spike filling her, finally.

"Slowly." The advice was as much for himself as her, as he experimentally thrust into her, short shallow thrusts, just enough to make him want to drive more fully into her. He felt the sheen of sweat over his back as he resisted and kissed her to take the edge off the urgencies of his body.

Dawn moaned into his mouth, fingers trailing along his ribs and spine, and coming to rest flat against his lower back, where she could feel the surge of his muscles as he thrust inside her –inside her!— as well as the tension in them as he made himself move slowly, tenderly, for her benefit. Whimpering, she raised her knees, cradling his hardness to her soft core, urging him deeper.

He was holding back a storm, but if she... he groaned as he felt her pull him deep inside. The burning need to bury himself completely in her became overwhelmng. He stopped fighting.

Gathering her in his arms, he looked in her eyes, then kissed her hard as he pulled back and drove inside her. She took him, every inch of his thick arousal, squeezed him, vibrated around him. He plunged deeper and deeper, claiming his girl with every thrust of his body, with every pounding beat of his heart, with every groan and exclaimation, every breath.

Beneath him, surrounding him, Dawn felt herself practically melting and reforming in a new form, crafted by Spike's deep penetration and cradling arms, by his tender kisses and beating heart. Riding the edge of pleasure and pain, wanting more of both or either as long as it came from Spike, she gave herself over entirely to him, gasping as every sensation seemed to grow stronger, deeper, hotter, and wetter.

Her nails raked his back, urging him on. Every drag of her body around his cock sent him hurtling higher, needing more, wanting more. The blood roared in his ears as he became focused. Every part of him, his mind, his heart, his body... all intent on one thing now as he slammed into her, taking her with him to the edge of ecstasy. Close, so close, he slid his hand under her and lifted her to him as he thrust, calling her name, begging her to come with him as his back stiffened and he threw his head back.

Spike's hoarse, desperate voice calling her name sent Dawn tumbling over the edge from pain all the way into pleasure as her surged into her, every muscle tightening above her as he lifted her to meet his desperate thrusts, deep and hungry. Clinging desperately with arms and legs to his powerful body, she moaned incoherently as her head tucked into the hollow where his neck met his shoulder and the storm broke over her, through her, shattering her into a million pieces, every one of which was pierced with a soul-shattering intensity.

He kissed her, then rolled over on his back and took long, deep breaths. "I was an idiot." He blew out another breath, then turned to look at her. Her expression was priceless. Gathering her to him, he chuckled. "Waiting is.... far over-rated."

She snuggled close to him, leg tangled across his and her face rubbing against his chest like a tiny cat marking her territory, and smiled. "Tried to tell you," she teased affectionately, raising her head to meet his eyes and kissing him again, just because she could.

Stroking her hair, he kissed her back deliciously slowly. Every moment had to count between them now, and it would. He'd thought today was an end, but it was a new beginning for them. It would be difficult, being separated, but they'd get through it.

(FB very much appreciated... we are approaching the end of the story, tell us how we're doing *Hugs*)