Old as Dirt and Just as Filthy
Freedom. We'd gained our freedom for one night and we intended to live life to the fullest in the days we had left. That night, the only place left with a pulse in Sunnydale was The Bronze and it was packed to the rafters with all walks of life wasting time until the inevitable apocalypse.
The early part of the evening was spent listening to the Potentials bragging about training techniques and who had won the gold star from Faith or Buffy. I sat there with nothing to say, unable to offer anything except the occasional nod. I wasn't a part of their elite group and it bothered me. The conversation eventually changed, as it often did, to boys and sex, most likely incited by Faith's dirty dancin'. With the topic of sex, I suddenly found myself having even less of a common bond with this army of Potential Slayers and my attention drifted.
That's when I saw him. In the dim, smoky light of the club, he looked like a playground attendant keeping a watchful eye on frolicking children. His eyes were stern and narrow but with the sliver of a grin along his lips, hinting amusement at the youthful social scene. With an appearance playing towards overstated mystery, he stood out like a grain of pepper in spilled salt and everyone noticed him, including my group of default friends.
In stark contrast to the colorful, showy attendees of the club, the stranger dressed more for the dark; a mid-thigh length black leather jacket covering a deep burgundy shirt with one button too many unfastened, revealing a hint of his chest. I half expected there would be a gaudy gold medallion or bikers tattoo hiding somewhere under that designer's nightmare of a shirt. He was not unattractive though the years had worn his features with deep lines and shadows. He'd recently re-died his hair a shade too dark for his complexion; I guess he wasn’t ready to admit defeat to the ravages of age just yet. And he didn't have kids. Well, at least no teenage daughters. He wouldn't have been looking that way at me if he had, eyes fucking me from afar.
I'd watched the dark stranger drinking alone for half the evening before a waiter stepped up to me and presented me with a drink, compliments of the gentleman at the back. That's when Rona gave me a nudge and encouraged me to share the tale of my first time. All eyes fell on me, waiting with eager expectation. I tried to change the subject but the girls insisted on the details so I finally gave in and came clean about my virginity. There was shock and awe, like I was some sort of circus freak, soon followed by giggles and snickers and halfhearted apologies. If only they knew the truth.
I wasn't conceived like everyone else on this planet, I was manufactured. Created by a bunch of self-righteous, sheltered and sex deprived monks who formed a green glob of energy into their idea of a teenage girl. I was so entirely unconnected to everyone else around me that I couldn't even share in the most fundamental of human experiences. And it seemed everyone around me had been christened into adulthood but me.
Vi said it would suck to die a virgin and the others enthusiastically agreed. I couldn't argue. Who could? Rona suggested that that night should be my initiation into maturity and that the lonely looking pervert in the dark corner of the bar could be the perfect date for me. Though I was pissed, I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of a scene. I gulped down the deceptively fruity drink the stranger had treated me to and calmly shrugged it off like it was nothing. With a twinkle in my eye, a waggle in my walk, and faith in my schoolgirlish charm, I marched right over to him while the Potentials watched in disbelief. I persuaded him to invite me back to his room in five minutes flat, winking victoriously at the gang as he ushered me away.
Confident as I was at the club, it was another story when that door closed behind us. I could hear all my internal danger alarms sounding. But it was too late. I'd taken it that far; accepted the challenge and I couldn't fold now. I had my usual bag stocked full of a variety of weapons and I could handle myself. After all, I was the sister of the Slayer.
The hotel room was compact, dark and suffocatingly stuffy. Barely furnished with essentials like a small fridge, a bed, a couch, and a bathroom. It reminded me of how nice it was to live in a house, preferably Potential-less. I took a seat on the undersized sofa positioned against one wall and watched the strange man mix up two drinks at the mini fridge. When finished, he turned and approached me.
"May I ask your age?" He handed me a glass, brushing his finger along mine in doing it.
"Mind if I ask yours?"
"Old as dirt and just as filthy," he chuckled. I liked the sound. "And you?"
I took a cautious sip of my drink, my nose crinkling at the strong odor of whisky and coke. It was awful but I needed something to take the edge off. "Old enough to know better and too young to care."
"Well said." He flashed a crooked grin.
"Why lie? We both know why I'm here." A small voice in the back of my mind shouted in disagreement. Why was I there?
"Interesting." He considered me for a moment before continuing on, "It's your first time, is it not?"
I liked his accent but the smooth tone of his voice did nothing to set me at ease. Every instinct told me to high tail it outta there, run like my ass was on fire and don't look back. Escorting a tall, dark stranger back to his hotel room wasn't the brightest idea, especially for a howling Hellmouth. But that was the point, wasn't it? They may be Potentials but I've faced danger before and will again. And I will not be afraid. Okay, maybe a little afraid.
"First time? Yeah, right. What gives you that idea?" I played it cool.
"Experience, my dear." He had patience. Even though he knew what was going to happen, he allowed me to play the game, to act the part of the sophisticated woman when in reality I was only a young lady not wanting to miss out on one of life's experiences. "There's tension, a certain... tightness." His hand gestured to a fist with the last word, his eyes glimpsing below my waist and I knew exactly what he was thinking. "You haven't been with someone."
"I've been with plenty of someones."
His eyes narrowed for a moment and he began to wander about the small space.
"Unfulfilling though, one-sided at best and not at all pleasurable for you, I imagine. A laughable tumble in the in the back seat of mum's SUV with a jock footballer or perhaps a clumsy tryst in the locker room with Betty the towel girl, nothing that sparked your curiosity enough to step beyond that boundary of civilized behavior."
I wanted to get on with it. Had places to go, Potentials to show up, my last days to enjoy. "Are you going to spark my curiosity?"
His eyes shot back to mine. "I'll do my damnedest."
I inspected his tall, lean figure, not at all hiding my curiosity in him. "Can I... can I see you first?"
His brow lifted, amused. "You haven't seen a man before?"
"Yeah, I mean, I've felt, um... touched... you know..."
"Ah.... given that special massage to the beau of the moment, have you?" He winked his approval at the thought.
"Yeah, no biggie." Just a silly bit of skin anyway.
"Pity." He removed his leather jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch. "Well I can assure you this will be quite the opposite affair."
I couldn't help but smile. "Are you bragging?"
"No need to, luv."
"If you knew I was inexperienced, why did you take me up here? Virgin fetish or some other weird thing?"
"Aren't you just the deliciously naïve one?" He sipped his drink and licked his lips as his eyes shifted to meet mine. "I didn't choose you, you selected me."
"I so did not."
"Come now, I know how it is. Your self proclaimed friends watching over your shoulder, testing you with some juvenile mission to give the old man a go before accepting you with open arms into their little dowdy fold. Universal teenage angst and rebellion, or is it young adult these days. I'm a bit behind of the times. Don't wish to offend." He shrugged indifferently. "It doesn't have to be that way. You can walk away and they would be none the wiser. I'll even pass along spectacular reviews of the evening’s proceedings to help you along with your peer advancement if you like. You owe me no favors, princess."
"Why would you do that? I mean, what's in it for you?"
"A guilt-free conscience."
"You have one of those, huh?"
"No... not really, but I like to pretend. Wins over beauties like you. What do you say, luv? Still curious or would you prefer to call it a night and I put on a show for the benefit of your cohorts?"
I shrugged. "Think I'll hang out."
He took a seat beside me, casually placing his hand on my bare knee as if it were simply another piece of the furniture for him to stretch out on. I felt the slightest quiver from it, like he'd zapped me with static electricity. He turned a bit, admiring me from head to toe and back again.
"My, but you are lovely."
"Yeah, I guess."
"You guess? Have you ever really looked at yourself? Eyes ablaze with life's passion, a smile that would melt the icecaps, a figure that could get a rise out of a eunuch."
"Forget it. Suffice it to say, you move me toward the poetic trappings of gratuitous prattle."
"I want to fuck you senseless."
I chugged down the rest of the drink, choking softly at the burning sensation trailing down my throat as I set the empty glass to the ground. "Now *that* I understand."
"I thought you might." His hand began to tease along the edge of my super short skirt, fingertips slipping below the fabric covering my upper thigh. It tingled, what he did to me; that simple tickle of rough skin along smooth and I felt heat between my thighs, wondering if he could feel it too. "Well now that we understand each other, is this what you want?"
"I don't know." I answered noncommittally.
"Don't you?" He looked slightly dismayed. "Sex is a profound experience, my dear. One that you should revel in, not shrug off like so much pocket lint."
"That seemingly useless bit of flesh between your captivating thighs serves more of a purpose than to win the acceptance of your peers or prove your 'coolness' factor."
"Does that mean you won't fuck me?"
"Bloody hell no!" He huffed. "I'm merely giving you the opportunity to understand the severity of your actions here. You are about to compromise your virtue for the chance at late afternoons of overpriced mochas and triviality with the posh crowd at the coffee house. Is it worth it?"
"You sound like your trying to talk me outta this."
"Nothing of the sort. I simply want you to see the repercussions. I only wish I'd been given such insight."
"You're first time wasn't all that great, I take it?"
"Raped by a blood pack."
" Vampire street gang. Let me live. To this day, I still don't know why."
I realized this guy wasn't one of the mindless drones of the Hellmouth. "Sorry."
"Don't be. Opened my eyes and prepared me for the harsh reality of things to come."
"Still sucks." I offered with a quick glance of sympathy. "So... we gonna do this or not?"
"My, aren't you just the sentimental romantic." He chuckled. "No wine and roses? No whisperings of sweet nothings? You still wish to proceed with this tempting exercise in perversion?"
"Why not? Besides, I feel like doing something bad."
"Is that so? Mind if I ask what inspires you to this debauchery?"
"Something evil is coming and everyone feels it. Town's practically abandoned. It's the end of the world as we know it."
"So what else is new?" He smiled wryly. "Now tell me the truth."
"Fine... my sister still treats me like I'm a kid."
"And this is your way of proving her wrong?"
"No, this is my way of proving her right."
"I see. Perhaps if you enlighten me of your age I can..."
"You ain't gettin' it mister, so give it up."
"Can't blame a chap for trying." He swallowed down the rest of his drink and discarded the empty glass next to mine. "What does it matter that your sister gives you the traditional sibling treatment?"
"Thing is, she's not playing the part of sister these days; she's doing the motherly thing on account my mom died and dad's as good as dead in my opinion."
"Sorry to hear it. Lost my parents early on as well, though I didn't benefit from a surrogate parent. Trust me, your better off having someone to watch over you."
"I doubt that. Tonight the squad and I snuck out after being under house arrest for like an eternity. Usually, I can't even sneeze without her watching me or having her watchdog watch me or bloodhound follow me."
"Best interest, luv. Big sis' only looking out for your best interest."
"Well, at the moment, all I'm interested in is you."
"Not the best of interests," he snickered.
He wasn't hard on the eyes, but he certainly wasn’t handsome, or at least not Orlando Bloom type handsome. He was as far from cute as it’s possible to get but he had something else going for him, a weird kind of worldly charm. He was tall, seemed nice, older but not ancient and not a vampire. (Like the good little Slayer's sister I was, I'd noticed his reflection in the mirror behind the bar when he'd ordered my drink earlier.) Most of all, he was suave, mysterious and dangerous.
"You don't seem all that bad."
"Or all that good."
"Look, you did the fatherly disciplining thing and I heard you, okay ? Your conscience is clear here. This isn't a big deal. I mean, all the other girls have done it and they lived to tell the tale. I'm going to do this tonight anyway , so it may as well be you."
"You've set your mind to it, then?"
"Then I will endeavor to make this as memorable for you as you deserve." He moved in closer until his thigh pressed against mine.
"May I touch you?" he asked smoothly.
"You already are," I responded, directing his attention to his hand still on my thigh.
"Is that a 'yes', then?" He didn't wait for an answer; instead, fingertips with years of experience and the texture to prove it began to explore the inner recesses of my panties. My body buzzed as he combed through my hair, rubbing along my folded flesh. He dipped inside, extracting out a moan I didn't know I was capable of.
"Y-yes..." I mumbled in a long drawn out breath, my legs impulsively drifting open to allow him greater access.
"The female body is a miraculous thing," his voice hummed softly to my ear. I closed my eyes as the stiff, thick intruders delved deeper still and I trembled at the sensations radiating out from where he touched. "Flesh both soft and supple , yet uniquely sturdy ; meant for labor and the abuse wielded by mindless brutes."
My back arched under the stroke of his touch. Or maybe it was his silky voice. "The instinct of ages past echoes in your flesh, you have but to open yourself to the call."
"Can... can I touch you?" I panted the request, not sure what else to do with my hands except grip something. Might as well be his 'something'.
"Please do." His hand guided mine to his cock, hardened and demanding release from the confines of his black slacks. "This is what you do to me. What you bring to me."
He dove deeper with two fingers, twisting and spreading within me and it set my body as stiff as his cock.
"It's okay to talk, luv. Tell me if you like it."
A flood of the unfamiliar washed over me, juices squeezed out by my filthy stranger. He smiled with pride. Evidence of my arousal seeped out and he paused to sample it with a finger.
"So sweet. Femininity concentrated, as if you were the essence of humanity boiled down to its barest elements."
I pressed my palm against his groin, getting a feel for him through his pants. His cock jerked to attention like a startled guard dog; I could have sworn I even heard a growl. He was larger than I'd expected but what did I know? He was my first.
"It's getting a touch confining down there. Be a good girl and give me some air, would you?" So condescending and yet so sultry, it made me hungry for more. His fingers continued to tease me as I reached with both hands to unbuckle, unbutton and unzip his slacks. Once unfastened, I pulled my hands back and so did he. We exchanged curious stares; me uncertain of what to do next, him patiently waiting for me to decide.
"That's quite a relief, thank you." He shifted in his seat, sinking further down into the cushions and relaxing. "So what would you like to do next?"
"I don't know?"
"Don’t you?" He smiled broadly and winked, his long, lean finger drawing small symbols along my overheated thigh. "Where does your curiosity lie? Shall I explore you some more, seeking out what mysteries await just beneath your darling surface? Or would you like to investigate me, perhaps? Poking and prodding until I beg for mercy? Or shall we simply sit here and talk dirty to each other while we pleasure ourselves and exchange voyeuristic gazes? Tell me."
"I guess..." I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I guess I'd like to see you... more of you."
"Be my guest," he lifted his arms up, weaved his fingers together behind his head and slumped further back into the cushions. I wasn't sure if he expected me to undress him or if I should wait for him to do it himself. Judging by the sly glimmer in his eyes, he was enjoying my indecision. "There isn't much left to it, luv. Or is someone having second thoughts?"
He was daring me, I could hear the chuckle in his words and it irritated me. Not to be toyed with, I got up, moved to stand before him and with my eyes never leaving his, knelt down between his parted legs. I carefully folded one flap of his loosened pants aside and then the other, making sure not to offer even the slightest touch. Silken black boxers stretched taut beneath the fabric and I could see the definition of his cock shaping through.
"Show me." I said it as an order , not a request.
"As you wish." He sat up and inched forward to the edge of the couch. With a crafty grin curling his lips, he stood. As I was still kneeling, this action brought his groin level with my face. And before I knew it, the shield of fabric fell away and his cock hung stiff and uncensored, saluting only a few inches from me.
I'd never been so close to a man's most private part before. Sure, I'd groped and fondled but never really saw. So I took the opportunity to study him. He was fascinating; different from the overheads they showed us in health science class because he was uncircumcised. Naturally intact; skin and meat and veins and strength all bundled in a tight, unaltered and impressive package. I was riveted.
"What would you have me do now, my sweet?" Though I didn't look, I felt him staring down at me, waiting.
Tactlessly, I reached up for him, drawn in by the unknown of that oddly sculptured flesh directed at me. As my fingers grew close, I suddenly shied back just a little. But he took my hand and placed it firmly and unashamedly against himself.
"Don't be shy. Introduce yourself." He smiled easily.
At first, I didn't move, afraid that it might go off or something. But the presence of my fingers seemed to excite the skin it touched and I felt it throbbing, tensing. My curiosity grew as he did. I let a finger drift gently along the soft, smooth skin of the head then move further, gliding over the stretched foreskin below, continuing on until I reached the forest of dark curls at the base. I brought my finger back, joining another finger to caress the underside of the shaft, tracing along a vein that pulsed like a drum. When I reached the tip, I spotted a pearl of liquid and realized I'd done that.
"Perhaps I should ask again," he said low and smooth. "What would you have me do now?"
"Can I see the rest of you?" I stood up and saw a glimpse of disappointment in his expression at my doing so. I don't know why, but it bothered me. I began to kneel again. "But if you want I can..."
"No, luv," he reached out and cupped my chin, directing be to return standing. "That won't be necessary."
"Really, I don't mind?" I tried to shrug it off but in the back of my mind I begged for him to be stubborn in his refusal.
"Let's get comfortable on the bed, shall we?" His hand fell away from my chin and caught my hand, guiding me to the perfectly made bed. "You might want to shed some of those layers. That is, unless you'd prefer to remain..." he searched for the right word, "unseen."
I thought for a moment, contemplating the insanity I was in and found it exciting, daring even. "It is kinda warm in here."
I began to strip; my jean jacket first followed by my thick soled sneakers, discarding them to the floor. When I returned upright, my filthy stranger lay naked on the bed, propped up on his elbow with that mischievous smile and roaming eyes. His body was lean , muscled and defined, quite fit for an older man. But that was the point; he was a man, not a boy. Everything about him was mature, the peppering of grey in the hairs scattered along his chest and abdomen, the faint creases of his eyes and brow, the weathered skin of his hands, and the promise of experience and confidence. Then I saw the scar, deformed and textured along his left arm and I just had to ask.
"How did you get that?" I motioned as I approached the bed.
"Join me and I'll tell you." He gave the comforter a pat. I moved to sit on the mattress. "Join me... and I'll tell you," he repeated, stern and clear and it took me a moment to catch on.
The tight, spaghetti strap tank top came off next, then the short skirt. I rolled off my socks and tossed them onto the pile of clothes I'd started while he enjoyed the show from his comfortable place on the bed. I unfastened my bra and whipped it off as if tearing a Band-Aid from a nearly healed wound. I figured it would be less painful that way. As I worked my bikini cut panties over the ridges of my hips, he leaned forward and with a single gentle finger, dipped within the band at the front and slowly unveiled me to him. The panties fell to the floor and I slipped my feet free, kicking the final article of my clothes toward my heap. I lifted my leg, bending my knee to rest upon the edge of the bed and leaned forward to join him.
"May I kiss you?" He interrupted my movement with a request said so sweetly that I smiled and nodded.
He slinked over to me and I bowed forward, closing my eyes to accept his offer of a kiss. I felt his firm hand cup my ass and draw my body closer. Then something wet and lithe licked me, but not on the lips I'd expected. This was entirely unanticipated, not even on the radar and I froze in panic. I quickly realized it was a kiss; a generous lapping of his tongue to my appreciative pussy , so intoxicating that no amount of alcohol could possibly match the drunkenness it caused. I gasped as he dipped inside to taste me. My legs weakened as his kiss grew deeper, his velvety tongue delving to reach the place his ridged cock would claim soon enough. It was startling; the phenomenon he set off was so feral that I felt my body losing control like never before. My hands reached out to brace him as swells of emotion and sensation crashed over me, creating eddies of confusion in my mind. He must have sensed my dizziness and guided me to lie forward on the bed, making room for me as I followed his silent directions.
"Liked that, didn't you?" He grinned knowingly.
"Oh, um... yeah," I sighed unevenly. "Should I..." I gestured meekly towards his hardened cock. I couldn't even say the words, feeling that any phrasing I chose for fellatio at that moment would only serve to confirm just how immature I was.
"Not that I don't appreciate the offer, my sweet, but I'd much rather fuck you till you scream. I think it's best to keep it simple. You don't mind, do you?"
"No... I mean, I guess not."
"But before we move on to the finale, may I kiss you again?"
My initial instinct was to say no, after all, where had those lips just been? Then I remembered the pleasure that talented tongue had given me a moment before and I had to know what it was like in a real, honest and conventional kiss.
"Um... on the lips... the mouth this time?" I practically winced at the dorkiness of my question.
"Yes," he smiled and took my hand in his. "If you'll permit me."
He leaned forward and placed a feather light peck to my lips and pulled back so slightly I could feel his breath tickle along my mouth. I opened my eyes to see him looking at me from so close he was only a dark blur. Then his lips pressed to mine again, harder with pinching and nibbling. Before I realized it, I'd accepted that tongue within my mouth to engage mine in a wondrous wrestling match. It was weird, the taste of whiskey and coke and him and me, it was all so messy and intimate that I giggled which made him chuckle and soon we were both pulling back laughing and I doubt either of us truly understood why.
His laugh faded to silence as a seriousness shaped his face and he sighed. "When I was younger and incredibly foolish, I dabbled in what you commoners might refer to as magic. This scar is a brand of sorts, to remind me of what greed and power can bring you as well as what it can drive away."
I could see a faint design etched there amongst the textured skin. "It's kinda cool."
He rolled his eyes as he shook his head. "No, it's kinda not."
There was regret in his stare, a gentle sadness that stripped him of the inviting humor he showed before. I wanted that to return, that naughty grin filled with confidence.
"I'd very much like you to fuck me now." I said it as plain and simple as I could and I saw him look up at me with a speculative grin.
"Would you now?"
He rolled flat to his stomach and crawled to me, prowling across the bed like a kitten after a string and I giggled again. He was cute in some perverted, filthy stranger way. And those eyes, those raven eyes were so captivating that I was ready for anything and nothing and everything in-between.
I tried my best to relax, letting him come to me. He crawled over my legs, parting them with gentle nudges of his hips and tickles of his fingers. Creeping closer, I felt the hairs donning his abdomen brush along my skin as he moved. Along his deliberately slow journey, he placed dawdling kisses to my navel, my breasts, my neck, until he had positioned himself between my thighs. I felt his cock resting against me, quivering like a tensed rubber band.
"We can stop at any time. Understand?"
Though he tried to sound sincere, I could feel his remorseless desire and believed otherwise. But I decided to feign respect for that imagined conscience he claimed to have and nodded. "Yep."
"You are so very lovely," he lowered down to kiss me, lips loose and caressing mine. Then he drew back and I readied myself for him, for it.
I watched him watching me, unsure if I should look away, close my eyes or simply stare. I wanted to see him as he did it. I wanted to be in both bodies, to know what it was like for both of us at that mythic instant that marked the loss of my innocence. Would it be just another conquest for him? His face hovered above mine, a subtle smile spreading along the creases of his plump lips, amused by my insecurity.
I felt his cock at my vulnerable entry and held my breath with trepidation of what was coming next. A gentle press and he slipped a little, parting me. Another press and I felt the pressure of his intrusion and my body reacting to prevent it. The pressing turned to pushing, then pushing to penetrating. He finally pierced my flesh and it was that moment of truth in my mind. Nothing that had brought us here had been the real thing, only foreplay or making out or baseball metaphors. But this, this flesh enveloping flesh, fluids intermixing, the intimacy beyond the visible... this was sex.
He acknowledged the pain crossing my face with a sympathetically furrowed brow as he sank to a shallow depth within me, stretching my inner landscape to change it forever. I winced and bit down on my bottom lip, gripping at his waist and digging in with my bubblegum sparkled pink press-on nails deep enough to break his skin. Pain for pain, he let me claw him as he sank some more. Inch by hurting inch, he took more of me. Soon, he'd filled me so full I was certain that something had shifted to make room for him. I began to relax as I realized he was finally settled. There was no more of him for me to accommodate and I was grateful for it. He placed a gentle kiss to my lips as I let out a relieved breath.
"You feel amazing, luv." He kissed me softly, consolingly. "You alright?"
"Yuh huh..." more syllables than words but he got the message.
The movement began, so slow and tender, rocking with an unhurried pace. For the first time, I felt my body reacting to the foreign sensation of having someone fucking me. The strange friction made me hot, growing hotter still with every stroke. He felt so hard, sliding within me like satin draped iron. The ache began to fade as his hand gently caressed my cheek, his eyes staring tenderly down at me.
He kissed me but I didn't care. All I could focus on was that part of him pumping me like some overheating piston. It hurt, but it was a blissful hurt, raw and slick and buried. Then his rhythm seemed to change, moving faster and I felt spasms inside, like tiny earthquakes rumbling from my core. His hands encouraged me to move, subtle lifts of my hips to change the angle, penetrating every inch of me with that catalyst of flesh working to drive something from me, though I didn't know what.
"Most women don't achieve an orgasm with their first encounter," his voice was strangely tutorial and I could imagine him as a health science teacher providing me with an experiment in class. "But I have other talents to gift you with such a rare prize."
"Other... talents...?" I was growing used to the feel of him and his driving tempo reminiscent of a top forties soft rock song I'd heard earlier at the club.
"Magicks, luv," he said. As he spoke, I felt his cock twitch inside me and I couldn't help but wonder if the thought of magicks triggered that or if it had been something I did. "Mind a taste of magicks? Promise you'll thank me later."
"You're the chauffer, here," I said with a smile. "Why not?"
"Why not, indeed ?"
His dark eyes shut and he began to whisper a chant, lyrical and strangely beautiful, continuing his ballad rhythm as he thrust into me. Droplets of sweat formed on his brow and I could see the labor of the spell fatiguing him. But with those exotic words, I felt something change. It began as a tickle produced with every drive of his cock; electric crackles along my inner skin. But it soon changed to a rippling of delight causing my flesh to contract, to wiggle, to sing. His spell grew louder, bolder and I felt the stirring of something visceral within me. Muscles tensed, skin sensitized to every hair of his chest, every waft of his breath, every pulse of his mystical cock. *This*, this sensual giving and taking, *this* was sex.
Eruption, explosion, outburst, chaos; pick your poison... it was a glorious wash of pleasure. Pain and folly all bundled within the taut threads of my innocence escaping from me in a flood of sin so rich I blushed with the justice of it. I screamed.
I remember him moaning or grunting or maybe even praying as a warmth of liquid fire spilled within me, as if to wash me clean of the indulgence I savored or perhaps to stain me for eternity with the act. Either way, I welcomed it.
His arms buckled and his body blanketed me, all sweaty and musty and undeniably male. My breathing became the new rhythm for which we both followed, coming to rest in a waning current of relief. He placed a satisfied kiss to my lips and fell beside me, lying sideways to look over thoughtfully.
"Regrets?" He asked and there was a hint of concern there as he propped his glistening head up on his arm.
"Naw," I smiled smugly, "You got the job done."
"You're too kind." He entwined my fingers with his and lifted them to his lips for a kiss.
"So..." I decided it was my time to ask questions of the sorcerer lying beside me. "How old are you, mister?"
"Ethan, call me Ethan." I found myself wondering why that name was so dang familiar. "Fifty years doomed to wander this god forsaken crust." He smiled. "And now, for the misdemeanor vs. felony charge question, how many moons, my lovely?"
"I'm seventeen." I whispered it softly in his ear. "Regrets?"
"Not at all, luv." He kissed my cheek. "Something tells me your soul is older than the stars and just as luminous."
Reality came crashing out of nowhere. "What time is it?"
"Just about 1 am. Why?"
"I gotta go," I fumble to my feet and scampered to get dressed. "My sister, the prison warden, will have my ass if I don't get home."
"I was rather hoping I could partake in that pleasure myself," Ethan smiled roguishly and I paused my dressing to roll my eyes at him.
"You really a perverted old fart, aren't you?" I laughed the words out as I finished dressing. He got out of the bed, his body still glistening with sweat, and he approached to help me on with my jacket.
"You never gave me your name, luv." He lifted the jacket up over my shoulders and gently pulled my hair clear of the collar, taking an extra moment to admire the feel of it.
"Like it matters now?" I shrugged.
"You'd be surprised." He stared at me for a long moment, silently pleading for me to tell him.
"Dawn." I was almost embarrassed by the sound of my own name. But when his eyes narrowed and his lips curled up to a pleased smile, I was strangely relieved.
"Thank you for a lovely evening, Dawn. Can I get you a cab home?"
"Naw, me and the girls have our ride." I stood there for a moment, unsure of what I should do. Should I shake his hand? Should I give him a long, sloppy kiss? Should I simply leave with a friendly farewell wave? I'd most likely never see him again because the chance of surviving the upcoming apocalypse was slim to nil so I wanted to make this count.
"Thank you, Ethan." I stepped forward, leaned in and gave him a tender, sweet kiss on his cheek and stepped away. He said nothing, remaining motionless as I grabbed my bag and opened the door. I took one final look back at him, my filthy stranger watching me, and left.
I got back to the club in time to see Faith fighting some cops in an alley and the Potentials trying to give her a hand. Needless to say, the whole thing got Hellmouthy and that was when Buffy showed up, glaring disapprovingly at all of us and taking command of the situation.
On the long journey home, not one person bothered to ask what had happened between me and the stranger. The Potentials where already back into full fledged Potential mode as Faith and Buffy bickered back and forth. I was off in my own little world, reflecting on what I'd just done and had done to me. No one asked or cared and I realized that was what I wanted. In the end, it wasn't about peer pressure or fitting in. It was about me and life and chance encounters.
When I walked in the door, I found Giles sitting at the dining room table. His face was stiff with concentration, weary eyes locked on the texts surrounding him. He was hunched forward, worn down as we all were. But Giles didn't get breaks, didn't get to let off steam. And though they had tried to hide it from me, just like my mom and dad used to, he and Buffy had been arguing more and more. With each harsh word thrown like daggers at each other, his face seemed to sink further into the shadows. He needed a break and I needed to talk so I took a seat across from him.
"Whatcha reading?" I asked as cheerily as I could.
"I don't honestly know anymore. It's all a bloody blur to me." He straightened his back and cringed.
He nodded. I didn't believe him. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes and glance across at me. "How did the evening go?"
"Not bad. Everyone made it home alive so I'd say hooray for us."
Giles flashed a grin that disappeared as quickly as it came. "Buffy found you then?"
"Yeah. You told her?"
"It was one of the few things she chose to hear, yes."
I wanted to ask what he meant by that but I didn't need to, I had a good idea. Giles stretched back in his chair, lifting his arms up to get the circulation flowing again and I watched as his rolled up shirt sleeves fell loosely to gather at his shoulders. The motion revealed his tattoo that I rarely got a chance to see.
And that's when it struck me; who my filthy stranger was. Who he had to be. A fifty year old British sorcerer named Ethan? One with a disfigured scar who happened to be in Sunnydale? It had to be that guy Giles knew, the one Buffy hated.
Part of me wanted to cry, part of me wanted to laugh and all of me wanted to know more about the mysterious man who had changed my life forever. "Giles, can I ask you sort of a personal question?"
"You can but I won't guarantee an answer," he responded candidly.
"What was that sorcerer friend of yours like... Ethan something?"
"Ethan Rayne?" Giles eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What makes you to ask about him?"
"Nothin' really, I noticed your tattoo... got me curious." I shrugged, acting as nonchalant as I could even when inside I was dying for answers. "What's he like?"
"Ethan is a sorcerer for hire with little regard for the consequences of his actions or concern for whom his magicks might harm. He's dangerous, cunning, and in no way my friend."
"But he used to be."
"Yes... well... that ended when he began to worship Chaos; when he began to feed on innocence for his own depraved pleasure and gain."
"Feeds on innocence, huh?” I gulped, afraid to ask the next question. "So, you think he's evil?"
Giles considered that question for a long moment before answering. "Not evil. Immoral and without scruples, perhaps." He held hope in his words.
"I understand him all too well." Giles returned his attention to the books and I could read his body language loud and clear. He wouldn’t say anything more about my filthy stranger, not then and not ever.
"Think I'll call it a night." I rose from my chair and started toward the stairs. "Goodnight, Giles."
"Goodnight Dawn." Giles glanced over with the slightest of smiles, the first I'd seen in days. I smiled warmly in return. "Pleasant dreams."
And they were.