Paper Dolls

Title: Paper Dolls
Pairing: Wes/Dawn
Rating: NC17 for angst-y smut
Genre: Angst-y Porn with very few plot-like elements
Word count: 2,999
Summary: Quite a few years post-NFA. For the sake of this fic, completely disregard the end of that episode. A rogue demon hunter, a mystical key and a dirty hotel room (what, you were expecting an actual plot? *snort*). For all you sticklers for canon characterization, don’t look for it in this, as it could lead to the human head actually exploding during the search.
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, not mine. Blah, blah, Joss is God.

A/N: What can I say? I had a bit of a kink to work out. *blinks innocently* Written as a belated Halloween pressie for spikeslovebite in appreciation for her help time and time again. Currently unbeta’d because I’m just too damn impatient. This is a one-shot, guys, and there will be no sequels. Don’t ask cuz I fold like a cheap suit under pressure. Lemme know what you guys think, as this is not my usual pairing and I’m extremely nervous about it. Now, without further ado…

Paper Dolls

She was exquisite, bouncing and swaying in time to the erotic beat pulsing through the club’s many speakers. He had found her quite easily, the invisible link they shared tugging and pulling him to her despite the distance which separated them. He could quite clearly remember the moment he had awoken to discover his fate, and the hand she had played in severing his ties from the masters to whom he had found himself helplessly enslaved. It was not until much later that he discovered the other being involved in his rescue; the soul willingly won for the love of a woman only to be willingly traded in exchange for the life of a man he barely knew.


Wesley Wyndham-Price still found it hard to believe that this tiny slip of a young woman had faced off against the Powers That Be, demanding that he be freed from the forced servitude of the Senior Partners. There had, of course, been a price. The Powers had demanded the soul of a champion, and the vampire had stepped forth to offer his own without hesitation. The exchange had been made, a soul for a soul, and the former Watcher cum rogue demon hunter had been freed.


Now, instead of slave to the Senior Partners, Wesley found himself enslaved to a very different master. A wry quirk of his lips the only outward show of emotion, the dark-haired man continued to contemplate his new existence even as his eyes tracked the movements of the female on the dance floor. As he had soon discovered in the wake of his release, hell came in many forms. As fate would have it, the Powers had their very own version of the standard perpetuity clause. Had anyone read the fine print, they would have known that, in using the soul of the undead in order to give new life to the dead, meant that Wesley was now just as immortal as the creatures whom had returned him to this plane of existence. As an addendum to the deal made with the Powers, he was forever linked to the young woman twisting and writhing beneath the rainbow-colored lights bouncing throughout the room. A link he cursed on a daily basis, just as he cursed the world, the Powers, fate, and everything about his new situation.


A jolt of awareness shot through him, and Wesley’s back stiffened with an odd mixture of anger and lust as his dark-eyed gaze was drawn to the piercing blue eyes of Dawn Summers. Her full, delicious mouth curled into a secretive smile, her dark lipstick stark against her pale skin. Knowing she had his undivided attention, she ran dainty hands over the black leather barely containing full breasts. The laces of the garment –which could easily pass for underwear- had loosened during her vigorous dancing, and Wesley could see the young woman wore nothing beneath. Pointedly ignoring his body’s reaction to the images which arose within his mind, he tried desperately to direct his gaze anywhere but the nubile flesh being offered.


A moment later, his decision became an exercise in futility, his mouth turning dry as a sun-baked desert; Dawn’s hands had traveled over the bare flesh of her sleek, toned abdomen, moving slowly over the tiny pleated skirt she wore. A low growl issued forth from deep in Wesley’s throat as he watched those tiny fingers slide through the red and black material to land upon the satiny skin of her inner thighs. A giggle sounded in his head, his eyes shooting back to her face. She winked, blew him a kiss, and bolted through the crowd knowing he would follow.


By the time he reached the club’s exit, she had disappeared. No matter, he thought as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the link they shared. Her voice sounded in his head, low, intimate…wicked as she urged him after her with promises of carnal delights only she could provide. His jeans had become painfully tight at the images she painted, and he vowed to punish her when he caught her. Another burst of feminine laughter had him moving swiftly in the direction she had taken.


It wasn’t long before he managed to track her to a rundown ramshackle hotel on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Some last remaining vestige of the refined gentlemen he had once been inwardly threatened to turn his nose up in disgust at the sight of a place which had once been a thriving roadside inn. Now, in its place, was the type of establishment where, as long as the money was green, no one looked too closely at the hand sliding the dirty, crumpled notes beneath the smudged, bullet-proof glass.


Ignoring the dying fluorescent lights, the stench of urine, and the various sounds coming from behind closed doors, Wesley made his way unerringly to the room where he knew Dawn to be awaiting his imminent arrival. The door sat slightly ajar and, with very little pressure, opened without protest. A minute flicker of his gaze, and Wesley took in the room. In and of itself, the small space showed as much neglect as the hotel’s exterior. The carpet was well-trod and stained with hell knew what, the walls were covered in faded paper ripped in some places and buried beneath a layer of what one assumed was at least a decade’s worth of cigarette smoke. A sloppy attempt had been made to make up the bed linens in anticipation of new guests. If there had once been any type of amenities included to give the minimal appearance of home comforts, they had long since been removed.

None of these things mattered, however, as the object of his chase, the authoress of his torture, leaned causally against the edge of a scarred and equally neglected bureau. She still wore the barely-there outfit which she had sported at the club- the outfit he now realized was a goth version of the average uniform worn by cheerleaders throughout the nation- her long, shapely legs ending in knee-high black leather boots and crossed at the ankle. Further complimenting the picture of a gothic cheerleader, Dawn had pulled her dark hair into pigtails which fell in streaks of ebony, purple and emerald until nearly meeting her waist.


Roving past the black and silver collar she wore, and at last daring to meet her sparkling blue eyes, Wesley found her peering back at him with one delicate eyebrow arched in challenge. “Like what you see?” Her voice was nearly a purr as her hands once more traveled over the luscious package which had brought him to his knees on more than one occasion.


That one question was all it took. In two quick strides, he was before her, the sound of the door slamming drowned out by his low growl of her name before his lips smashed down on hers. Teeth clashed and tongues battled against one another as Wes poured every bit of the anger, passion, love and hate he felt into the kiss. He’d known even as he’d boarded that plane in Japan the reason she had drawn him here. It was a power play, a flexing of her dominance over him, reminding him once more who was master and who was slave. He held no illusions that she did or ever would love him; it was a toss-up who he hated more for that fact, her or himself.


Some tiny sound issued forth from one of them and the kiss became flooded with the taste of copper a bare fraction of an instant before she shoved him away from her. With a gasp, Wesley found himself on his knees at her feet, one leather-clad boot sliding against the rough denim of his jeans until it caressed the bulging evidence of her effect on him. That damnable smirk of knowing once more alighted her ethereally beautiful face, and it was all he could do not to shove her to the floor beneath him and give rein to his rampaging lust.


Perhaps it was because of that very smirk and his desire to wipe it from her face that gave Wesley the inspiration behind his next actions. Carefully shielding his thoughts from her, and schooling his features into an inscrutable expression –thank you, Spike, for those poker lessons- he grasped Dawn’s shapely calves in his large, calloused hands and gave her legs a slight jerk. To his surprise, she complied with a look of interest, her eyes drinking in his features in an attempt to figure him out.


Gaze locked to her face, Wesley lowered his lips to the smooth, satiny skin just above her left knee. Her lips parted as a tiny, soundless breath escaped into the stale air of the room. Repeating the action upon her other leg, he was rewarded with a similar reaction. The small victory told him his plan would work and, suiting actions to intent, began alternating tiny flicks of his tongue with sharp nips of his blunt teeth on her delicate flesh. As he used lips, teeth and tongue against her thighs, his hands slid along the backs of her calves, up the backs of her thighs, to the silken skin of her hips.


As he placed a particularly sharp bite to the inside of her right thigh, Wesley’s fingertips came into contact with the lace edges of her knickers. A quick tug and the material fell away from her trembling flesh as her head fell back on a moan. A grin, his first of the evening, stretched across his handsome features, and Wes kipped fluidly to his feet, his hands still curled lightly around Dawn’s slender hips.


From his new vantage point, Wesley could see she had her eyes closed, her dark lashes fanned delicately against her cheeks. “Open your eyes, Dawn,” he demanded in a voice all the more commanding for its softness. She did so, her lids fluttering open to reveal eyes darkened with need. Seeing what he needed swirling in the drowning blue gaze peering back at him, Wesley spun the powerful woman to face the cracked and dirty mirror riveted to the wall. He wanted her to watch the way he could bring her body alive with his touch; wanted her to acknowledge what they could be together.


Taking his hands from her hips, Wes slid them up the front of the leather top she wore, opening the already loosened laces until he could tug the material over her head and drop it to the floor at their feet. “Beautiful,” he whispered reverently in one ear as he watched his hands cup the full, creamy mounds. A soft whimper sounded in her throat, and he rewarded her by flicking his thumbs across rapidly-tightening nipples, employing his forefingers to twist the dusky peaks. A shudder rippled through her body at his actions, and Wesley pressed himself more firmly against her.


Leaving one hand to play at her breasts, Wesley slid the other one down the smooth skin of her belly, inwardly pleased to see that her own eyes remained opened as they followed the path his hand took. Her breath hitched audibly as his fingertips reached the material of her skirt. The look in her eyes was one of needy anticipation. Wes decided to make her wait a bit longer, choosing instead to skip over the area covered by the miniscule skirt, his hand moving to her knee and giving it a light tug. To his delight, she seemed to understand what he wanted and resettled her stance with her feet slightly apart.


With Dawn now where he wanted her, Wesley’s hand went to his belt buckle, the metallic snick very loud in the nearly quiet room. In the mirror, he watched as Dawn pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to hold back her moan of ready anticipation. He was trying to prove a point here, and slowly withdrew the belt from its denim moorings. When it was free, Wesley folded it in half and lay it atop the bureau, taking note of the considering look she gave the accessory. A moment later, he released her breast and both hands went to the buttons of his shirt. She tried to peer at him over her shoulder, but he grasped her chin and guided her attention back to the mirror with a command to “stay put”.


No sooner had he stripped out of his shirt, than Dawn was attempting to press herself back against him in a desperate need to feel his flesh against her own. Having drawn out the wait long enough, his own desire to be buried deep within her heated depths gaining strength, Wesley once more spun Dawn to face him. He captured her lips with his own in another fiery kiss, gratified when he felt her arms curl around his neck and shoulders. Turning them, he leaned back against the bureau and eased one hand down to release the button on his jeans. The sound of his zipper had another soft moan leaving her throat to be swallowed in the kiss.


With very little prompting, Wesley guided one shapely thigh over his hip, opening her to him until the tip of his rigid shaft bumped against her clit. She was soaked down there, his skillful touch having gotten her so wet that her folds were slick and glistening in readiness of his invasion. A slight shift of his hips, his hands gliding over her bare hips to cup the pert globes of her ass, and he rammed himself into her. The suddenness of the action brought a scream of his name to her lips; her head flinging backward in further reaction. He stilled momentarily, a demand for her to again open her eyes. When she did as he bade, the open look of desire and adoration gazing back at her brought a breathless gasp to her lips.


Assured of her acceptance of the moment, Wesley placed a soft kiss to her lips. “Watch,” he whispered silkily, reveling in her little “o” of surprise at his tentative thrust. Her eyes drifted to the picture the two of them made together as he set up an unexpectedly gentle rhythm despite the violence of his initial penetration. This was what they were made for, this dance of flesh and breath and blood and life. Words and thoughts which had no place in this moment were washed away in a storm of carnal need. Wesley buried his face in the crook of her slender neck, delighting in the delicious friction of her body twined and writhing with his own. Her breaths came faster; gasps and moans intermingled with sighs and sobs of his name every time she felt him rub against that spongy little bundle of nerves hidden within.


Too soon, Wesley could feel the tightening of his body signaling his approaching climax; knew from the subtle tightening of her vaginal walls as her internal muscles rippled and massaged his thrusting member, that she was rapidly approaching her own orgasm, as well. Wanting her to go over that shimmering edge with him, he released one hand and slid it between their bodies, pressing against the needy bundle of nerves aching for his touch, sending her careening over the edge with shriek of his name buried against the side of his neck. A couple of uneven thrusts later and he was joining her, spilling himself inside her, arms wrapping her up in a tight embrace and hoping that she, at least for a few moments, saw what he saw when he looked at her.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~


It was late in the morning when Dawn finally opened her eyes. For several minutes, she simply laid there trying to get her bearings. Jet lag was a total bitch, she noted in an attempt to figure out the time difference between L.A. and Tokyo. She groaned when her usually quick brain refused to process the necessary information, opting instead to function on the level of “want coffee now” and “tasty husband-type snore”.


Thoughts of said spouse brought forth memories of the previous night’s activities; the way he had taken her over and over, pushing her higher each time. Sense memory brought fresh desire pulsing through her veins, and she considered waking him for another round. She shifted slightly, feeling the not unpleasant reminder of his leather belt against her sensitive flesh. On second thought…

Instead, she thought over the events which had led them to a dingy room in a rundown, ramshackle hellhole. It had been his turn to pick the fantasy, as she had done so last year; their annual Halloween tradition having stemmed from the holiday being the one night out of the year where the baddies stayed at home and everyone else could be anything other than themselves. What began as a conversation early in their relationship had become tradition which had continued even after the arrival of the twins.


A smirk rivaling that of a certain vampire-shaped brother-in-law curled Dawn’s lips as she thought of her very precocious nine-year-olds pulling their usual stunts while driving the vampire and slayer to distraction during their parents’ absence. The smirk melted into a sweet, albeit secretive, smile as she placed a hand across her still-flat belly. She was awaiting confirmation from her doctor before informing her husband of the imminent arrival of another bundle of joy. She was hoping for a girl this time. Plus, the idea of both Summers females being pregnant at the same time was kind of cool. If the idea wasn’t enough to amuse the hell out of her, she might actually feel sorry for Wes and Spike.


“Wha’s so funny?” Her husband’s sleep-roughened voice effectively wiped all thoughts from her mind, forcibly reducing her to “want tasty husband-type now” mentality. With a quick shimmy and wiggle, she had herself wrapped happily around the former Watcher.


Eh, the boys’ll be fine for one more night.

Fini