| 2044…
The beat of some distant music pulsed through the night, blocking out
the bustling sounds of the carnival and causing the two vampires to rock
to its beat as they finished feeding off their kill.
With a final suck of blood, Buffy pulled back and wiped her mouth. Checking
the shadows to make sure their victim would remain safely hidden until
dawn, she shook off her gameface.
“Dance?” Her companion smiled at the youngster’s well-learned caution.
Buffy hesitated for a second before grinning. “Whatever you say, dahling,”
she joked before taking the pale hand offered and swaying to the pulsating
rhythm.
“Dances are like clocks. Wind them too tight, and night spins rooound
away!” Drusilla rolled her neck around with the elongated ‘round’, pulling
Buffy in closer for the dance.
This was the side of Dru that Buffy had nearly always seen. Free, light-hearted,
an almost childlike innocence in her eyes. One night she and Spike had
spent alone, he’d told her that Drusilla seemed more relaxed now than she
had been before, her madness receded. He credited the change to Angelus’
death and the weight lifted from Dru’s shoulders now that her tormentor
was well and truly gone. Whatever the cause, Buffy couldn’t deny that her
grandsire wasn’t the nutcase all those slayer books had made her out to
be…
“And the foxtails dance with us, sparkling green in the moonlight…”
Well, okay, so Dru still technically was insane. But it was a
more coherent kind. “You said it,” Buffy laughed, well accustomed to odd
statements of this sort by now. The scary thing was Drusilla was almost
starting to make sense to her.
“Who needs boys when we can make our own fun?” Dru let Buffy dip her
back with a sigh.
“I’m so going to kill him when he gets back,” Buffy announced
with a little growl, pulling back from Dru with a little pirouette.
Drusilla laughed and clapped her hands and, like that, the dance was
done. “Our boy should make his bed more carefully,” she sing-songed, making
her way primly down the pitch-black corridor between two tents that led
out of the summer carnival grounds. “Don’t want to let the dust in.” She
winked at Buffy.
Buffy couldn’t help but laugh at that, following after her grandsire.
“Not sure a dusting’s in order,” she countered. “Just a good, solid threat
of one. With chains.”
Drusilla snickered and walked beside Buffy, playing restlessly with
the end of the former slayer’s long braid. It had become something of a
companionable, comfortable gesture between the two of them. Dressing the
other up, playing with hair and makeup. Sister stuff, almost.
Buffy couldn’t help but grin at her latest creation. It had taken all
her persuasive powers to trick Dru into the short black leather skirt and
the deep maroon blouse, but the elder vampiress looked absolutely stunning
in the outfit.
Skipping ahead and swirling about in the shadows as if she owned them,
Buffy breathed in deep the smells of the warm English night. Outside of
the festivities, the town was silent as a tomb and just as dark. The black
silk of the sleek formal dress Drusilla had dressed her in that evening
clung to her body like a lover’s caress and, for the first time, she admitted
that maybe Dru didn’t have the worst taste in clothes, after all. Or maybe
it was just this invigorating, wonderful night.
“Still hungry?” Drusilla asked, eyes wide in surprise.
“Nah,” Buffy assured her with a toothy grin. “Just don’t want the hunt
to end.”
“Wicked sun,” Dru pouted in agreement.
Buffy sniffed the night. “A few hours left…” she commented casually.
“Keep playing, or go home?” Drusilla grinned.
It really was a rhetorical question. As much as Buffy loved the night,
her urges always made this decision for her.
The two vampiresses dipped and glided through the shadows, occasionally
brushing the neck of some unsuspecting human they passed with gentle fingertips.
Their ‘victims’ merely shivered against the night, unaware of how close
to death they had just come. The power to take life on a whim was intoxicating
and left Buffy breathless and excited.
The two of them hadn’t found a temporary replacement boy tonight. Since
Spike had first wandered off two weeks ago without any explanation, the
two women had been feasting upon the virile young men this community had
to offer. But tonight blood had won over sex, leaving the two of them alone.
Buffy had long since learned to cease caring about pesky matters like
gender.
She placed a soft kiss on her grandmother’s throat and earned herself
a purr in response. Eternally graceful feet stumbled in their eagerness
to get inside and into bed.
Buffy nuzzled Drusilla’s raven locks and gasped when fingers glided
over her back, caressing her erotically through the black silk. Her own
arms wrapped around Dru’s waist, and a brief pang of disappointment overcame
her that her lover for tonight wouldn’t be her sire. Oh, Drusilla knew
how to make Buffy’s body hum with pleasure, but that was nothing compared
with the knowledge that it was Spike on top of her, inside her…
Not to mention that she still preferred men. So did Dru, to tell the
truth. But they both knew how to compensate.
“Pretty little bells,” Drusilla whispered against the crown of Buffy’s
head, growing strangely still. “Sing me your song…”
Buffy froze at that as well and pulled back. Her grandsire was frozen
in place, head cocked to the side at an odd angle, black eyes open wide
and unseeing. A shiver ran down Buffy’s spine. She’d seen these trances
all too often over the past decades, and had come to both fear and trust
whatever unholy visions spoke through Dru. It still sent chills down her
spine just how abruptly they came and went, however.
“Such a sweet family,” Dru commented, her voice sounding distant, ghostly.
“But the poor, poor pretty thing caught in the middle.” A deranged giggle
that was far from Dru’s usual mad laugh. All of her mannerisms were slightly
off when she was in trance. “Loved by both and caught between them.” She
tisked lightly. “It’s always the one loved most that dies. Bloody, painful,
wrong
deaths. Wreaths of dust flying through the air.” Her arms stretched out
over her head and then wide out to the sides, as if she were feeling the
edges of the cloud of dust that would explode from her body on that day
when her unlife finally ended. “If only they’d loved each other better…”
The words trailed off in a whisper as silent as the wind.
Buffy gulped. She’d been skeptical of Dru’s visions for the longest
time. But when they came like this – overwhelming the personality of her
grandsire completely – not a one had proven false.
But what the words meant, now that was a trickier proposition. Spike
had gotten downright uncanny at figuring out these prophecies; Buffy was
still getting there. But this one seemed simple enough.
It foretold of death. And, if the vision came to Dru, inevitably the
death of someone close. A ‘poor, poor pretty thing’ caught in middle of
bloodshed between two lovers and turned to dust. An uncomfortable tingle
ran up Buffy’s spine. As horrible as this prediction was, it wasn’t so
difficult to decipher…
Almost as if a switch had been flicked, Drusilla was herself once more,
blissfully oblivious to the prophetic words that had taken her body as
vessel. “Has cold feet, our girl does,” she smiled at Buffy with that dark,
mysterious smile.
Buffy managed to respond with something approaching a smile herself.
Anything to erase the memory of those words…
“Misses her sweet love,” Dru guessed.
“He’s never been away this long,” Buffy responded, the chill of the
previous scene already fading. If Drusilla was nothing else, she was wonderfully
diverting after one of her visions.
“Our William will find his way back to us in his own time,” Drusilla
cooed softly, stroking Buffy’s hair comfortingly.
Buffy managed a nasty grin at that. “What will we do to him when he
does?” she inquired.
Drusilla threw her head back and laughed at that. Still fighting off
girlish giggles, she crooked her forefinger to Buffy, encouraging the blonde
vampiress to move in closer and hear her whispered secret.
“Best to just go with the moment.” Drusilla’s breath was a cool, erotic
breeze against Buffy’s ear. “Get too predictable and poor Spike will get
bored. Always better to keep him guessing.”
Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise, and she pulled back to look into Dru’s
eyes. “You do it on purpose!” she accused. “All the crazy fickle stuff.
Just to keep him interested.”
An enigmatic smile curved Drusilla’s lips. “Quite a skill to keep such
a beautiful creature spellbound for centuries,” she countered coyly.
Buffy grinned. “Sneaky,” she agreed, nuzzling her elder affectionately.
Dru purred, and golden flecks shone in her eyes with excitement. “Inside…”
she practically begged, her hand slipping down the back of Buffy’s dress
to find smooth bare flesh.
Buffy’s own demon stirred in response, and her lips crashed down on
Dru’s, hands clutching the elder vampiress’ hair as the two of them stumbled
into the bedroom. Overwhelmed by the mingling scents of their desire, Buffy
didn’t even catch the voyeur’s musk until they’d crashed through the bedroom
door in a mass of groping limbs.
Dru’s nostrils flared only a second after Buffy’s, and together they
turned desire-yellowed eyes to the intruder sprawled across the center
of the king-sized mattress.
“Don’t halt on account of me, luvs.” Scarred eyebrow raised at a cocky
angle and lecherous smirk firmly in place, Spike lay back completely nude
amidst the red satin sheets. The foreplay between the two women in his
life had obviously excited him, and his cock strained upward, hard and
eager, the pale fingers of his left hand curled loosely around his thick
member.
Buffy gulped. She’d gotten used to reunion sex over the years. Drusilla
took off several times a year, and Spike had done his own wanderings on
occasion. Even Buffy herself had spent a handful of odd nights away from
her family. But never had she felt this overwhelming desire before. Her
demon threatened to consume her in a way that it hadn’t for over a decade
now. Apparently, it wasn’t just her body, heart, and mind that had wanted
her sire desperately over these last two weeks.
“Daddy’s home,” Drusilla commented, her expression uncharacteristically
blank. She hadn’t decided yet how she wanted to play this. Delicious blood-red
payment for their brief abandonment, or sweet sensual forgiveness? Once
she’d even carried on just as though Spike had never left in the first
place. That one had thrown him for a loop and ensured her an especially
devoted childe for months thereafter. However, their sweet girl seemed
to be tipping the scales in one particular direction…
“Daddy’s home,” Spike agreed, eyes sparkling in anticipation of pain
or pleasure or something else entirely.
Buffy took one step away from Drusilla and closer to the bed. She couldn’t
believe she’d missed the scent of him before now. His arousal made her
thighs go damp and her demon lash at the edges of her mind. The last was
both lust and rage. For deep beneath the leather and soap, she could still
smell the women he’d been with during his absence. A dozen, perhaps. Nothing
unusual, since she and Dru had found themselves other lovers as well. All
that mattered was that, in the long run, he came back to them. But the
information could be used for a little intimidation…
“Our boy’s been naughty,” Buffy tisked, holding one hand out to Dru.
Twin desire-yellowed gazes met, and an unspoken plan passed between
them. “Wicked boy,” Drusilla hissed, showing a hint of fang. “Thinks he
can play with aaall the birdies and not get his fingers pecked…”
“Had a right fun time of it, too.” Spike tilted his head to one side
unapologetically. He knew he was asking for trouble, but these two knew
how to make it hurt better than anyone else alive or undead.
Buffy knew that should be her cue to make some witty and vaguely menacing
remark. But she found her attention riveted to his hardness. Her mouth
felt suddenly dry as the first drops of precum escaped the tip of his cock,
and she licked her lips. Her demon growled its desire to taste him, to
have blood and sex and sire all in one. A shutter ran through her body
and, eyes still fixed on her goal, she rested one knee on the mattress.
Drusilla mirrored her action on the either side of Spike, giving him
a wicked enigmatic smile that made him gulp. He did nothing but fold his
arms behind his head nonchalantly, however. Cocky boy needed to be taught
a lesson. But not tonight…
Crawling up the bedspread like a feral cat, Buffy caught his right arm
in a steely grip, pinning him down. Drusilla mirrored the action on his
left side, holding him between them. Buffy’s right hand descended on his
thigh, caressing the pale skin there, before she gave her grandsire a wicked
look. “I’m hungry.”
“Me, too,” Drusilla giggled.
Buffy’s fingers turned into razor-sharp claws, and Spike let out a hiss
of pain when she cut into his sensitive skin. A red line of blood welled
up against his white flesh, and Buffy leaned down over his body to savor
the sweet flavor of her sire.
Drusilla watched her mate’s face tense up with agony and ecstasy, waiting
until the line blurred to nothing before she tipped the balance to the
side of pleasure. Best to leave him guessing until the last minute, after
all. She leaned in languidly and smiled when a breath caught in his throat.
He was bracing himself, but not even he knew for what.
She looked up at him with a toothy grin, candlelight glinting off her
fangs, before her face shifted back to its human planes. And, rather than
punishing her boy, she rewarded him with a long, slow lick up the length
of his erection.
Spike’s head fell back in response, an unbidden moan escaping his lips.
Buffy abandoned the healing cut on his thigh and turned her attention
to his cock as well. Her head turned at an opposite angle to Dru’s, so
that they could both lick him up and down together, one on each side.
Needy little whimpers escaped Spike’s throat, and he tried desperately
to thrust his hips off the mattress. The two vampiresses held him firmly
down, however, and he quickly realized that they didn’t have to hurt him
to torture him. His hands itched to caress their bodies after being so
long separated, but his arms were firmly trapped. His own bloody fault
for keeping himself from their bed for so long, he supposed.
Buffy and Drusilla began alternating their licks, one moving down while
the other moved up. Drusilla’s tongue found a drop of pleasure dripping
down the sensitive head, and she lapped it up, lips encasing him and sucking
lightly.
“Fuck, yes!” Spike cried out inarticulately, clawed hands clutched in
the sheets since he couldn’t reach anything else to gain purchase.
Buffy, not to be undone, slid her cheek down his shaft until she reached
his swollen balls. Her tongue gently guided one into her mouth, rolling
its taste across her tongue, before she gave the other the same treatment.
When his entire body was trembling from the ecstasy of it, she finally
took mercy on him and took both into her mouth.
Drusilla chose that moment to fully engulf his thick cock, throat muscles
realizing so that she could take him all the way to the hilt. Her cheeks
sucked in tight as she deep-throated him, smiling when she felt the first
growl of orgasm rumble through his body.
Buffy felt his balls tighten within her mouth and sucked harder, tongue
wrapping around each in quick succession. A momentary gasp, and then his
pleasure burst forth into Drusilla’s mouth, a roar escaping his lips.
Buffy pulled back and nuzzled his thigh affectionately as Dru drank
him down. Her hands released him, and his limbs went limp beneath her.
She felt a momentary pang of regret that she hadn’t been the one
to taste him, but she let it pass. Her own needs would be fulfilled shortly
enough.
With a final lap at his rapidly rehardening shaft, Drusilla rose up
on her knees and purred contentedly. “Mommy had forgotten just how sweet
her William tasted,” she purred, body stretching out beside her languid
mate’s.
Spike murmured something incoherent, a blissful smile on his face as
he nuzzled her hair. “My dark princess…”
“My black knight…”
Buffy propped herself up on one elbow and stretched her body out beside
them to watch as Spike found his second wind and tackled Dru to the mattress
beneath him. The dark-haired vampiress giggled and keened as overeager
hands ripped apart the clothes Buffy had dressed her in early that evening.
It wasn’t long before only scattered scraps of fabric covered Dru’s body,
and Spike thrust deep within her womb with one hard stroke.
Buffy bit her lip and watched them, fingers trailing down between her
aching thighs. God, she wanted him so badly it was nearly painful. The
demon within raged at being denied for so long. Not fair, it whispered
in the back of her mind. The only reason he takes her first is because
she’s his mate. If he was our mate, we could have him whenever we
wanted him. No waiting…
She’d gotten used to the jealous whispers over the years, however, and
had learned to live with them. A little compromise between herself and
her demon: She knew only too well that she didn’t have a chance against
Dru until she became a Master, but once she did, she would fight – to the
death, if need be – for her sire. Dark promises in the back of her mind
to soothe her demon.
But that was all a long way off. Right now, she desperately needed her
release. Almost mesmerized, she watched Spike thrust in and out of Dru’s
body. It wasn’t often that Drusilla gave herself completely over to his
lust, but Buffy always found it incredibly erotic when she did. Mirrors
couldn’t show Buffy what Spike looked like when he moved inside her, but
it must look like this, and she drank in every detail.
The muscles of his ass clenched tight with each powerful thrust, back
muscles rippling, arms flexing and unflexing. He stretched up on his toes
with each push, as if straining for penetration deeper than was physically
possible. Beneath him, Drusilla clutched him tightly to her and gasped
in wild abandon as he brought her to climax.
Buffy’s thumb rubbed over her swollen clit frantically, three fingers
buried deep within her slick channel, moving in time to his thrusts. Oh,
he was so beautiful, so perfect, and she needed him inside her, touching
the very center of her being, trapped within her immortal embrace, and…
The peak evaded her, even as she sought it.
Drusilla had no difficulty falling over the edge, however. With a shriek
like a banshee, her nails dug deep into Spike’s back, leaving deep red
furrows in their wake. Marking him as hers forever.
A growl of completion overtook Spike as well, and his seed flooded her
womb.
The combined scent of their sex was suddenly unbearable, and Buffy absolutely
had
to be a part of it. She rolled Spike off of Dru’s body before he even had
time to fully collapse, straddling his waist and yanking her dress off
over her head. With only a few gyrations of her hips, he was hard again
and looking up at her from under dark, long lashes.
“Missed me?” he teased, that irascible smirk curving his lips.
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “God, I hate you!” she exclaimed vehemently,
impaling herself on his thick cock. She barely managed to prop her hands
up against the smooth alabaster of his chest before she collapsed from
the pleasure of feeling him inside her once more.
He chuckled at that and thrust his hips up into her, making her moan.
“Should prob’ly stop makin’ love to me then,” he countered confidently,
hands reaching up to palm her breasts.
Angry hazel eyes snapped open. “Jerk,” she accused. “Arrogant prick.”
“Just turnin’ me on with your sweet-talk, slayer,” he taunted, clutching
at her hips now. “I didn’t know better, ‘d think you—”
God, she wanted to kill him and fuck him and, more than anything else,
shut him the hell up. Her lips caught his harshly, plundering his mouth,
thrusting deep down his throat and claiming him as hers.
He growled in response, clutching her to him as their bodies began grinding
together uncontrollably, all gentleness and rhythm forgotten in their desperate
need to just be together once again.
Fangs grazed and blood filled the union of their mouths, limbs tangling
and clutching, bodies rolling over to find the position that allowed them
to press closest together. The curve of his cock let him find the sweet
spot within her unerringly, and her inner walls tensed around him, their
slickness trapping him deep inside.
It wasn’t long before, amid hisses and growls and the occasional purr,
they came together amidst white-hot sparks. Demons suddenly gone lax with
fulfillment, they fell back to the bed together, still intimately joined.
Drusilla watched with a yawn. Such lovely childer, fiery and passionate
and oh-so-snarky. The two younger vampires bickered and teased constantly
as a form of delicious foreplay. Now that the sparks had gone out, she
allowed herself to cuddle up against Spike’s free side, resting her head
in the curve of his neck.
“Naughty boy shouldn’t leave us for so long,” she tisked.
Hip still slung over Spike’s waist so that he remained inside her, Buffy
murmured in agreement. “Don’t leave me tonight,” she pleaded softly. He
had always remained buried within her throughout the day those first weeks
after she’d been turned and, even though her loss of virginity had long
since remained permanent, she still liked to keep him inside her on occasion
when she was feeling vulnerable. A sort of guarantee that he would be within
her always.
Wrapped up between his mate and childe’s sweaty, naked limbs, Spike
couldn’t help but smile in abject bliss. He couldn’t even remember what
he’d been thinking that he’d ever left their company. “Never leave my wicked
angels,” he promised fervently, planting kisses in both golden and ebony
locks. “Love you both more than anythin’…”
No one felt the need to respond to that. It was still several hours
before dawn, but weariness at the night’s entertainment sunk into their
bones, and they were more than content to doze in each other’s arms.
“Why must the flames of the red witch wake us?” Drusilla mumbled in
complaint.
“Mmm,” Spike replied lazily, half-asleep.
Buffy let out a little purr, already unconscious.
A moment’s silence and then, “I can come back later, you know.”
Spike and Buffy started awake at that, and Drusilla merely blinked,
trying to reconcile the vision in her head that had forespoken of this
event with the fact that it was occurring in the present. Sometimes time
was so difficult to decipher the way it ran behind her eyelashes.
Still blinking in confusion and surprise, Buffy finally managed to comprehend
the image before her. “Willow?” she asked in disbelief.
The apparition at the foot of the bed, ringed with ghostly black fire,
rolled her eyes. “It took me five tries to get this spell right,” the redheaded
vampiress complained testily. “The least you three could do is listen to
what I have to say.”
Spike grunted and peered up at her from over Buffy’s shoulder. “Neat
trick,” he replied with a wicked grin.
Willow licked her lips at the carnal sight the three of them presented.
Even more so because she’d soon be able to join them once more…
“I’m calling,” she couldn’t help but giggle at that description of her
magical communiqué, “to invite you back home to the Hellmouth. We’ve
missed our mommy and daddy horribly.” She affected a cute little girl pout
that looked halfway between deranged and wicked. “And our sister, Buffy,
too, of course.”
“Of course…” Spike’s scarred eyebrow rose. “Any particular reason you
think—?” he began.
Drusilla cut him off. “Order’s going to hand over the gaping jaws of
hell to our sweet pixies,” she whispered in his ear, loudly enough that
everyone could hear her.
Willow pouted at that. “Ruin my surprise, why don’t you.”
“They’re giving you the Hellmouth?” Buffy blurted out in disbelief.
“Why?”
Willow’s eyes narrowed, letting Buffy know only too well that whatever
competition had been between them when they’d first been turned was still
very alive. “Some of us actually bothered to study the Order’s books.
Dark, dirty spells, mired in the blackest magic…” Her eyes faded to pitch-black
as she said it, a look of almost orgasmic bliss on her face.
“But you still wouldn’t mind havin’ a bit of muscle to show the natives
you can cut it as the big cheese?” Spike guessed astutely.
Willow blinked at him with wide-eyed innocence. “We thought you’d want
to celebrate all this wonderful dark power with us,” she insisted.
Spike’s eyebrow rose skeptically.
Buffy glared.
Drusilla sighed and nuzzled Spike’s throat pointedly.
“Right then,” he agreed, giving in to Dru’s subtle request. “We’ll make
our way back to the States.”
Willow giggled and clapped with joy. “We’ll have a dozen pretty young
girls for you to drink when you get here,” she insisted excitedly. “Red
rivers of blood.”
“Mommy will dream about them,” Drusilla promised, lying her head back
down against Spike’s chest and closing her eyes.
Still wise enough to realize that Drusilla always got the final word,
the apparition of Willow vanished then, without so much of a goodbye. It
wasn’t necessary, now that she’d gotten what she wanted.
“Thought we were avoidin’ the Hellmouth?” Spike inquired curiously,
settling back down himself.
“All the stars lead us back to the baking sun,” Drusilla commented casually.
Buffy shivered at that. The idea of returning back to her home was less
than appealing. Bad memories and power struggles she’d long left behind.
Not to mention the fact that her years both as a slayer and as a fledgling
had led her to see Sunnydale as some source of imminent doom. She clutched
Spike tighter against her, hoping to bury her fears in her lover’s embrace.
Unfortunately, Dru picked that same moment to shift against him.
“Oi!” he complained, fidgeting. “Whose elbow just jabbed me?” Tangled
limbs quickly readjusted until he was comfortable again.
“Poor, poor pretty thing caught in the middle,” Drusilla giggled, unaware
of the fact that she’d used those same words only an hour before to prophesize
death.
Spike kissed her gently on the forehead and drifted back off to sleep.
Buffy, wide awake with fear now, couldn’t help but look down upon the
beautiful body of her sire and wish they weren’t headed back into the perilous
pits of hell once more… |
