Title: Bedtime Story
Author: Scorch
Rating: N-17
Category: PWP
Content: C/Aus
Summary: A challenge from Cali.
Disclaimer: I own nixies
Distribution: AO, FSB, Cali’s place, please ask author
Notes: If you're of a strong moralistic constitution, then turn away now!
Cali, hope you enjoy this *grins*
Soft skin warmed his palm, the golden shade set off by chocolate hair that fell
in rumpled waves around her face and shoulders. She looked so pretty while she
slept.
So pretty, so peaceful. It seemed like such a sin to wake her.
He traced the contours of her face, following the way a defiant jaw arched up
into defined cheekbones. The feathery touch he used was hard enough to make dark
lashes flutter in response.
He smiled and she sighed. Those full lips parted a little, then pursed inwards
as she burrowed further down into the pillows.
How like her to forget about the importance of uninviting him into her home, her
sanctuary. Mistakes always had consequences. He just wondered what would be
hers. It was food for thought.
Gently, so very gently, he leaned down to nuzzle her cheek, allowing the sweet
scent of honey to fill his lungs. There was a warmth to her that didn’t come
with humanity. It was the kind of warmth that crawled over the skin, consuming
every inch until you were left intoxicated on it.
It was the kind of warmth that came with sitting in front of a roaring fire,
taking shelter from the cold outside. It was the kind of warmth that came from
having a lover share your bed. It was the kind of warmth that came from lazy sex
on a stormy summer’s night.
His tongue was cool, much cooler than her skin, but he had to taste. Just one
simple taste and maybe he would stop, get up and leave her to her dreams. Maybe
he would stay, wake up with true love’s kiss, or maybe he would take her and
place her in a bed of roses and thorns.
Or maybe, if he was feeling generous, he would take her and give her everything
her little heart desired. Maybe he would stay, do nothing but wait until she
woke up. Her reaction would be amusing, he figured, but discarded the idea as
quickly as it came.
His mouth hovered over her neck, barely touching, and he could already taste the
sweetness. She had a beautiful neck. Slender, curved, and golden flesh only
marred by slim blue lines.
That always fascinated him. Blood was blue until it hit the air. He much
preferred red. It was a warning the world over. Danger, stop, and whatever else.
Red painted his life, his dreams. His nightmares. Bright red, dark, pale,
burgundy, crimson. All of them told a different story and each one held a
version of hell the soul never touched. It saw, remembered, tasted, but never
touched.
The soul brought with it an agony he both hated and loved. It restrained him,
locked him away behind invisible steel bars, chained him to a dirty concrete
wall in dank and dirty prison cell. The damning thing was the soul wanted,
craved, to touch, to taste what it saw. It got stronger, almost unbearable, as
the beast sucked it further into the hell the soul itself created.
Let the soul watch from it’s own prison.
He leaned closer, feeling that warmth around him grow closer, more stifling. His
tongue darted past hungry lips and he licked a soft trail along the column of
her neck, ending on her pulse.
His appreciation was kept silent even as the first trickles of arousal hardened
him. “Mmm,” the breathless purr chilled her skin, “I could just eat you up.”
Her body rolled away from him, the covers slipped down to reveal precious inches
of golden skin. Her neck tilted towards his mouth and he couldn’t resist the
unconscious temptation to steal another taste.
A tiny little breath hitched in her chest. He watched, fascinated, as she
slightly shuddered in response. Her exposed shoulder rolled and encouraged him
to move the covers down, urged him to satisfy the question of what she wore to
bed.
Goose bumps rose up on her flesh in answer to the disappearing warmth, and he
almost felt guilty for it. Still he kept going, softly tugging the cotton covers
past her collarbone only to stop just above her décolleté.
There was so sign of a pyjama top, nightgown, or chemise, and he began to wonder
if she wore only panties to bed. It excited him to think that, below the layers
of comfort, there was nothing but satin and skin. It excited him to think that
all there was between him and her was a teeny tiny piece of fabric.
It excited him to be there without her knowing. He relished the perverse
sensations he got from touching her while she slept, unaware of anything but the
sweetness of dreams.
One more soft tug exposed her breasts. Full, round, still pert with youth, and
tipped with baby pink nipples that begged to be tasted. The temperature drop
caused them to pucker and tighten, and his mouth watered.
“Pretty,” the vampire whispered. She was his for the taking. His head lowered
close to her chest and her breathed her in, absorbing the delicious scent of
honey and lilies. There was nothing so lovely as a vulnerable young woman.
She whimpered and shifted under him, delicate hands flexed into fists around the
covers. He pulled back and looked at her face. Surely she wasn’t going to wake
up and spoil his fun. He may have to rethink things if that were the case.
He recalled last night, when he had her pinned beneath him. His thigh still
burned from spreading her legs, his chest ached from feeling those breasts
crushed against him, his ears still heard the music in her scream. He’d fed off
her terror like he would blood and it’d left him full. Full, but not satisfied.
He wouldn’t be satisfied until he had her legs locked around his back and his
cock deep inside the tight wet heat hidden between firm thighs. He wouldn’t be
satisfied until soft muscles clenched around his shaft and made him cum.
It’d be easy to make her climax, her inexperience ensured that, but he was a
different story. Unlike the soul, it’d take more than a simple popping of the
cherry to bring him off. She’d have to work hard to get her reward.
A small, high pitched whimper shattered the silence and he froze, not wanting
her to awaken just yet. Her hips moved slightly and her head tilted to one side,
her eyelids squeezed and her lower lip was bitten.
“Please…” The word was spoken so softly, so sweetly, he almost missed it.
Her scent changed, the honey and lilies turned into something more. Something
that blackened his eyes and darkened his fantasies. Wild roses began to
overpower the lilies, and wild rain swept away the honey. He watched as
manicured nails dug into the mattress, her fingers flexed around the sheets.
Rapid movement below those creamy lids caught his attention and he watched it
all. The bitten lip, the fingers, the hips…
He wondered who those sweet dreams belonged too. He envied the person her dream
belonged to.
Jealousy was one thing, but envy was another. Envy tear a person inside out,
made a person willing to do anything it took to get what they want. Envy made a
person’s eyes turn green. Envy made his eyes burn gold.
That dream was his, just as she was his.
Her tongue darted out to as though to catch a rain drop, then she hissed as a
sharp motion drove her hips down into her bed. “Please.” This time, she was
begging. It was slow, drawn out, and her voice showed the agony of being kept
waiting.
The vampire sucked in the arousal and the groan that left his throat was more a
quiet growl. He leaned further down, circling a nipple with lips and tongue, he
watched as the little bud flickered in response. Still, she slept.
His tongue tingled with a variety of tastes. He purred with satisfaction when
she shifted under him. Rolling onto her back and taking the covers with her,
causing perky breasts to gently bounce with the motion. He imagined how they
would look when wrapped around his cock.
She whimpered again, and again he glanced up to make sure she wasn’t awakening.
She wasn’t. Good. He’d hate to have his fun ruined.
He tugged the covers down more, exposing more golden skin, and admiring the way
it shimmered in the moonlight. He smiled lightly at the fact he couldn’t see her
ribs. It pleased him she had a healthy appetite.
Removing the covers completely had him needing to change position. Sliding
carefully to the left of her gave him the room he wanted. Much, much better.
His lips furled up into a smirk as the covers were lowered ever further, only
stopped just above her mound. Obsidian orbs gleamed at the lack of underwear. So
Queen C slept naked, did she? Who’d have thought.
A rough fingertip traced her slender waist and followed the curve out onto her
hip, feeling the supple skin melt under his touch. He didn’t stop there. Moving
down across a toned thigh, curling round and up.
He wanted to slide thick fingers inside her, wanted to make those tight silky
walls coming hard. He was so close to giving in and doing that, but he resisted,
and teased himself a little longer.
He inhaled deeply, the scent of wild rain now almost overpowering. He’d barely
touched her and she was burning up. How flattering.
His fingers splayed out, brushing oh so softly against her special place. Dark,
downy curls tickled his palm, and he smiled lightly. She wasn’t shaven. Good. It
meant he’d have the pleasure of doing it himself. Well, if he wanted too. It’d
be such a shame to lose those downy, dark curls over a whim.
Her legs were falling open and making it easier for him to touch. She shifted
and her rose up, pushing his hand closer, harder, onto her. A quiet moan escaped
and she hissed her enjoyment.
He sketched the outline of her quim, feeling just how sweet she was. Dipping
down, he found her entrance and she was wet. So very, very wet, and hot. His
thumb spread her dewy folds and slipped past them to draw slow circles around
her clit.
The bud throbbed under his talent and her body opened up, ready and willing for
more. Another quiet moan left her throat. The vampire paused, smirking as
frustration washed over her beautiful face.
She wanted, needed, something inside her.
Who was he to deny her?
“You want more baby?” A thick fingertip slid past the initial tightness, silken
muscles stretched to fit. She made a gorgeous sound that went straight to his
cock. Yeah she wanted more.
He pushed in knuckle deep and her hips drew back against the mattress. He
followed, placing pressure on her sweet spot. She whimpered and he did it again.
Her hand languidly trailed down her stomach, manicured nails left tiny white
lines that onyx eyes tracked with lust. He felt her slender digits smooth over
the sensitive pearl, soothing the burn with gentle pets.
He looked at her face. Closed eyes squeezed, lips bitten, cheeks flushed, little
noises coming from her throat. Her breathing grew ragged and heavy, her nipples
puckered under the sensation. “So pretty,” he murmured.
She was so wet, his finger rubbed against the satin walls as he pulled out and
away from her. Her legs were pulled further apart and he eased his body over,
carefully lowering his weight on top of her, trapping her hand between them. The
heat of humanity seeped through his leather pants.
His hips made a long, slow circle, grinding down hard on her clit, feeling her
throb against his shaft. Her hand was moving that little bit harder, that little
bit faster, her knuckles stroking his balls. She squirmed and hissed, face
flushed with orgasm.
“That’s it Duchess. Ride me, fuck me.” He did nothing, just lay on top of her,
letting her use him for pleasure. He was hard, so fucking hard and ready to cum.
His balls were tight, almost painfully so, and it wouldn’t take much to set him
off.
Her free hand roamed down his back to grip his ass, her nails seemed to cut
through the leather as she pulled further on her. Her hips barely moved and
there was no friction, but the pressure was incredible. Then she stopped
breathing, her body stiff, tense, and he felt the heavy pulse of climax as it
shot through her and into him, making him groan.
The gasp of air lodged in her chest came out in a quiet moan, “Angelus.”
His name on her lips got him where it hurt. “God, yes.” His eyes were slammed
shut, hips drove his aching cock against her once. He pressed down tightly and
roughly as he ejaculated. His breathing was harsh, laboured, when he came down
off the high, his pants were sticky and wet.
He looked down and saw Cordelia, wide awake, and watched as she realised he had
her pinned into place
The End