Just a small fliclet. It started out in response to a challange, but totally flew from the point. It's just a little few on how Dawn gets after a couple of years. It doesn't matter if Buffy's back or not.
She walked over to the bar, her hips swaying too much to be a natural movement. Putting her elbows on the counter, she leaned her body over, pushing and exposing her cleavage to the young bartender.
"What can I get you?" the man asked, wiping the counter area in front of her with a rag. After placing the rag over his shoulder, he gave her a smirk. "A screaming orgasm?"
She gave him a disgusted glance and shook her head.
"No, that's a pussy drink. I'll take a vodka, straight-up, with a twist of lime."
"You twenty-one?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Would I ask for a bloody drink not being twenty-one?" she shot back, hoping her attitude covered for her lack of age.
It did.
She held the drank with her right hand, and placed her left in her pocket. Her body was leaning up against the wall, in the dark corner of The Bronze. Watching all the people dance, she took a slow sip of her drink. It burnt down her throat and hit her stomach hard. The liquid violated her taste buds, making them feel numb and dead.
"You're such a bad little girl," he whispered into her ear and grabbed her drink. Taking a swig, he handed it back to her.
"Spike. That was my fucking drink. You don't know how hard it was for me to get that." She almost growled at him, but settled for a low rumble in the back of her throat.
She took another sip, letting the vodka slide down her throat and idly wondered if she swallowed a match, if she could light her throat on fire. But she dismissed, telling herself that once a match was in her throat, it'd sizzle and burn out.
"What are you doing here, niblet?" he asked, placing a cigarette in his mouth. He took a long drag. Breathing out the smoke, he took the fag between his fingers and passed it on to her.
He knew she'd have her way until she got it.
She sucked in a deep breath, causing the smoke to give her head a rush, and then puffed out the smoke in little rings. Handing him back his cigarette, she took her glass to her lips and continued to sip it.
"I'm enjoying myself, Spike. You should know that."
She leaned her body up against his, her body starting to feel a little dizzy. His cold fingers were calming her flushed skin and it felt good. Moaning at the contact, Dawn arched her head to the side, letting him glance at her beautiful flesh.
"You never used to enjoy yourself this way, love," he said, dipping his lips to her neck, gently nipping and sucking.
"I never used to do a lot of things," she whispers. She then puts her drink on the ground and turns her head up to look at his face.
It doesn't take long before her lips are on his and everything else is a blur. She twists her body around so her chest is pressed upon his. Her hands roam his chest and then steadily down to his pants. She sticks her hand down his tight pant's pocket, smiling wickedly as he grunts when she accidentally brushes her hand against him.
Grabbing her fingers around the cigarette pack, she lifted her hand back out and tapped his chest. She pushed away from him and put the fags in her own pocket.
"Thanks Spike," she smiled and walked away from him, her ass shaking in the process.
He shook his head and stared after her. She was chatting with this little boy at the bar and exposing all her goodies. She put one of his fags between her painted on lips and the boy took a lighter from his pocket and lit it.
She gave him a smirk and followed the boy outside and to the alley.
You're so crazy. Enough in a way that I'll probably say you destroyed me.
The music played and he nods his head in agreement.
A couple of minutes later she came back inside with the little boy. She took the back of her hand and wiped her mouth. He could smell the intermingled scent from where he was standing.
He was going to have to look over that one. Because one way or another, she was going to bloody destroy him.