Ticklish Slayer
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Title: Miss Edith's Game
Author: Ticklish Slayer
Rating: I've changed it from NC-17 to R, but if you think it should be rated more strictly, let me know.
Summary: Tickle fetish fic, written on a dare. Dru gets Spike in a rather... interesting position. Set somewhere after Lover's Walk, but before Spike's return in season 4. Tickling and sex... Not for li'l bits!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the fic you see before you. If you're planning on suing me, too frickin' bad, 'cause I ain't making money off of this. Nyah! Characters are property of my beloved Joss Whedon. -petpet-
Feedback: LOTS! This is my first posted lemon, so I need tons of reviews.
Spike squirmed and writhed wildly, trying not to look too panicked. It wouldn't do for her to see him lose composure -- but he still couldn't believe that he'd been tricked into this position. Again.
"Pet, please," he complained stiffly. "Let me up. We'll go out and I'll find you a nice midnight snack. A toddler, maybe, from uptown so he's nice and juicy." Drusilla's eyes were gleaming; Spike knew the weak offer wouldn't sway her, but it was worth a shot. Once his Dru got her mind set on something, she didn't stop 'til she got it.
"Don't want a toddler," she sang in a lilting voice. "I'm full."
"Dru," he repeated urgently, and she promptly covered his mouth with three neatly manicured scarlet nails.
"Naughty, naughty Spike," she giggled gleefully, making sure once again that the ropes around his wrists would hold tight. "You've been bad. Mummy has to punish you."
"What have I done, love?" he protested. He'd tried for the past five minutes to twist out of his bonds, but all Spike succeeded in was making some lovely red rope burns on the skin of his wrists. Dru giggled again, obviously quite proud of herself.
"You've been scowly and growly for far too long," she said in a sing-song voice as she slowly drew a red polished fingernail down the center of his chest. Spike shivered involuntarily at her touch. "Makes rumbles in my head when my Spike's unhappy. So we'll make him smile, just for tonight." Drusilla turned away and rooted around in the darkness of the cellar for something. They had been forced to stay there when the dawn came, but it held a bunch of junk and an old bed which would serve to their liking. Her liking, at least.
"We?" Spike craned his neck to see, still tirelessly twisting his wrists and digging the ropes into his skin. Dru popped back up with that damned doll of hers and a smile of pure delight.
"Miss Edith and I, silly puppy," she crooned. He eyed her warily as she carefully straightened every wrinkle in the delicate fabric of the doll's dress, smiling all the while. "We're going to play a game."
"Pet, let's not --"
"It's Miss Edith's favorite game," Dru said, and this time her sing-song voice held a note of disapproval. Spike pressed his lips firmly together. He wanted to get out of this situation, but upsetting her would get him nowhere. She'd be liable to pout something fierce and leave him there, tied to a bed half-naked like some kind of idiot until she cheered up and returned. Better to just play the game -- even if it was what he feared she had in mind -- and get it over with.
"Fine, love," he muttered at last. "Let's play Miss Edith's favorite game." Drusilla giggled joyfully, hugging the porcelain doll to herself.
"What fun!" she exclaimed, and promptly plopped Miss Edith right on the center of Spike's bare chest. He frowned; the bloody doll blocked his view of Dru. He couldn't see where she was or what she was doing.
"Dru?" Spike said cautiously. He didn't like losing sight of her. The gleam in her eye was far too wicked for the reason of bondage to be sexual, and he had a pretty good idea of what she had -- His thoughts were cut off with his own yelp of surprise as he felt her long nails scrabbling softly on the ball of his foot. Damn it, he cursed silently, trying to force himself not to react. Damn it damn it DAMN IT. He knew this was what she was planning -- he had known all along, he supposed -- and now regretted not stopping it in time. He had always prided himself on appearing strong and unwavering in Dru's eyes (except, of course when they were around Angelus... that was an entirely different matter) and this was the one way she could make him feel helpless. Unable to defend himself, laughing and squirming like a child. He hated being tickled, and his repetitive thoughts of that nature were not helping. DAMN. IT! he screamed mentally.
Spike bucked back against the bed as she continued to very gently tickle the sensitive skin above the arch, smiling to herself while she did so.
"You know what I want to hear," Drusilla crooned, then giggled loudly. She was obviously very amused by the way his face was turning bright red.
"Dru," he moaned through clenched teeth. Somehow, the fact that he couldn't see what she would do next was making things ten times worse. That bloody doll was in his way, bobbing up and down with his erratic breaths.
"Yes?" she asked innocently, and raked five of her nails slowly down the center of his foot. Spike bucked violently, his pent-up air escaping him in a half-strangled cry of laughter. This delighted Dru to no end; she giggled again and wrapped a hand around one of his rope-bound ankles, her free fingers carefully scratching the highest part of his arch. Spike forgot about composure and twisted wildly, trying desperately to get out of her grip. He could hear his own uncontrollable laughter coming out in bursts as Dru's torment spread to both feet; he convulsed instinctively and laughed harder, unable to do anything else. His last jerk had thrown Miss Edith to the left, and she was lying askew on the bed. But to be perfectly honest, he didn't give a flying fuck about the damned doll at the moment. All Spike's attention was focused on how in the hell he was going to get her away from those feet.
"God, Dru," he choked through his hysterics. Now Spike could see her; she looked up with that mischevious smile she got when she was proud of herself, busy with scratching her nails up and down the vulnerable flesh of his feet. The smile faded almost immediately, and she released his feet, much to Spike's relief.
"Naughty," Drusilla said in a hushed tone of disapproval, carefully retrieving Miss Edith from the bed. "Oh, Miss Edith doesn't like this at all. She wants to sit here --" She emphasized the word by dropping the doll back on his chest and blocking his view once again. "-- so she can see all the fun."
"Dru," Spike said breathlessly. "Please, let's play another game."
"We don't want to play another game," she said indignantly, placing her hands on her hips. "We want to play this game!" She paused briefly; a slow smile spread across her lips. "Spike." Drusilla popped back into sight, and the look on her face made him stop worrying for a moment.
"What?" He strained slightly at his bonds, eyeing her over slowly. She hadn't given him that look since she'd found out about his deal with the Slayer.
"Spike, love," she repeated, and Spike jumped slightly as she proceeded to slowly unbutton his jeans. His cock sprang to life, straining at the fabric. "You'll get a treat if you play. A tasty treat." Dru's fingers slipped under the fly with great care and lightly stroked his arousal. He growled and bucked his hips upward, suddenly wildly thankful he wore no underwear.
"Dru," he moaned quietly, then inhaled sharply as her hand left his pants.
"You'll play?" she asked hopefully, but the twinkle in her eyes suggested she already knew the answer. Spike let out a slow breath and craned his neck upwards to see her better.
"I'll play, pet," he said in defeat. "I'll play." Dru clapped her hands together gleefully and moved out of sight once again.
"Spike wants to play!" she giggled, obviously delighted. Spike braced himself with a wince. He really didn't want to play Miss Edith's game, but if he was going to get some sort of pleasure that didn't involve his right hand, he'd have to. Spike caught one last glimpse of Drusilla before she disappeared beyond the frills of lace on Miss Edith's dress -- and the look of mischief on her face made him suddenly wish he'd refused.
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Author: Ticklish Slayer
Rating: I've changed it from NC-17 to R, but if you think it should be rated more strictly, let me know.
Summary: Tickle fetish fic, written on a dare. Dru gets Spike in a rather... interesting position. Set somewhere after Lover's Walk, but before Spike's return in season 4. Tickling and sex... Not for li'l bits!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the fic you see before you. If you're planning on suing me, too frickin' bad, 'cause I ain't making money off of this. Nyah! Characters are property of my beloved Joss Whedon. -petpet-
Feedback: LOTS! This is my first posted lemon, so I need tons of reviews.
Spike squirmed and writhed wildly, trying not to look too panicked. It wouldn't do for her to see him lose composure -- but he still couldn't believe that he'd been tricked into this position. Again.
"Pet, please," he complained stiffly. "Let me up. We'll go out and I'll find you a nice midnight snack. A toddler, maybe, from uptown so he's nice and juicy." Drusilla's eyes were gleaming; Spike knew the weak offer wouldn't sway her, but it was worth a shot. Once his Dru got her mind set on something, she didn't stop 'til she got it.
"Don't want a toddler," she sang in a lilting voice. "I'm full."
"Dru," he repeated urgently, and she promptly covered his mouth with three neatly manicured scarlet nails.
"Naughty, naughty Spike," she giggled gleefully, making sure once again that the ropes around his wrists would hold tight. "You've been bad. Mummy has to punish you."
"What have I done, love?" he protested. He'd tried for the past five minutes to twist out of his bonds, but all Spike succeeded in was making some lovely red rope burns on the skin of his wrists. Dru giggled again, obviously quite proud of herself.
"You've been scowly and growly for far too long," she said in a sing-song voice as she slowly drew a red polished fingernail down the center of his chest. Spike shivered involuntarily at her touch. "Makes rumbles in my head when my Spike's unhappy. So we'll make him smile, just for tonight." Drusilla turned away and rooted around in the darkness of the cellar for something. They had been forced to stay there when the dawn came, but it held a bunch of junk and an old bed which would serve to their liking. Her liking, at least.
"We?" Spike craned his neck to see, still tirelessly twisting his wrists and digging the ropes into his skin. Dru popped back up with that damned doll of hers and a smile of pure delight.
"Miss Edith and I, silly puppy," she crooned. He eyed her warily as she carefully straightened every wrinkle in the delicate fabric of the doll's dress, smiling all the while. "We're going to play a game."
"Pet, let's not --"
"It's Miss Edith's favorite game," Dru said, and this time her sing-song voice held a note of disapproval. Spike pressed his lips firmly together. He wanted to get out of this situation, but upsetting her would get him nowhere. She'd be liable to pout something fierce and leave him there, tied to a bed half-naked like some kind of idiot until she cheered up and returned. Better to just play the game -- even if it was what he feared she had in mind -- and get it over with.
"Fine, love," he muttered at last. "Let's play Miss Edith's favorite game." Drusilla giggled joyfully, hugging the porcelain doll to herself.
"What fun!" she exclaimed, and promptly plopped Miss Edith right on the center of Spike's bare chest. He frowned; the bloody doll blocked his view of Dru. He couldn't see where she was or what she was doing.
"Dru?" Spike said cautiously. He didn't like losing sight of her. The gleam in her eye was far too wicked for the reason of bondage to be sexual, and he had a pretty good idea of what she had -- His thoughts were cut off with his own yelp of surprise as he felt her long nails scrabbling softly on the ball of his foot. Damn it, he cursed silently, trying to force himself not to react. Damn it damn it DAMN IT. He knew this was what she was planning -- he had known all along, he supposed -- and now regretted not stopping it in time. He had always prided himself on appearing strong and unwavering in Dru's eyes (except, of course when they were around Angelus... that was an entirely different matter) and this was the one way she could make him feel helpless. Unable to defend himself, laughing and squirming like a child. He hated being tickled, and his repetitive thoughts of that nature were not helping. DAMN. IT! he screamed mentally.
Spike bucked back against the bed as she continued to very gently tickle the sensitive skin above the arch, smiling to herself while she did so.
"You know what I want to hear," Drusilla crooned, then giggled loudly. She was obviously very amused by the way his face was turning bright red.
"Dru," he moaned through clenched teeth. Somehow, the fact that he couldn't see what she would do next was making things ten times worse. That bloody doll was in his way, bobbing up and down with his erratic breaths.
"Yes?" she asked innocently, and raked five of her nails slowly down the center of his foot. Spike bucked violently, his pent-up air escaping him in a half-strangled cry of laughter. This delighted Dru to no end; she giggled again and wrapped a hand around one of his rope-bound ankles, her free fingers carefully scratching the highest part of his arch. Spike forgot about composure and twisted wildly, trying desperately to get out of her grip. He could hear his own uncontrollable laughter coming out in bursts as Dru's torment spread to both feet; he convulsed instinctively and laughed harder, unable to do anything else. His last jerk had thrown Miss Edith to the left, and she was lying askew on the bed. But to be perfectly honest, he didn't give a flying fuck about the damned doll at the moment. All Spike's attention was focused on how in the hell he was going to get her away from those feet.
"God, Dru," he choked through his hysterics. Now Spike could see her; she looked up with that mischevious smile she got when she was proud of herself, busy with scratching her nails up and down the vulnerable flesh of his feet. The smile faded almost immediately, and she released his feet, much to Spike's relief.
"Naughty," Drusilla said in a hushed tone of disapproval, carefully retrieving Miss Edith from the bed. "Oh, Miss Edith doesn't like this at all. She wants to sit here --" She emphasized the word by dropping the doll back on his chest and blocking his view once again. "-- so she can see all the fun."
"Dru," Spike said breathlessly. "Please, let's play another game."
"We don't want to play another game," she said indignantly, placing her hands on her hips. "We want to play this game!" She paused briefly; a slow smile spread across her lips. "Spike." Drusilla popped back into sight, and the look on her face made him stop worrying for a moment.
"What?" He strained slightly at his bonds, eyeing her over slowly. She hadn't given him that look since she'd found out about his deal with the Slayer.
"Spike, love," she repeated, and Spike jumped slightly as she proceeded to slowly unbutton his jeans. His cock sprang to life, straining at the fabric. "You'll get a treat if you play. A tasty treat." Dru's fingers slipped under the fly with great care and lightly stroked his arousal. He growled and bucked his hips upward, suddenly wildly thankful he wore no underwear.
"Dru," he moaned quietly, then inhaled sharply as her hand left his pants.
"You'll play?" she asked hopefully, but the twinkle in her eyes suggested she already knew the answer. Spike let out a slow breath and craned his neck upwards to see her better.
"I'll play, pet," he said in defeat. "I'll play." Dru clapped her hands together gleefully and moved out of sight once again.
"Spike wants to play!" she giggled, obviously delighted. Spike braced himself with a wince. He really didn't want to play Miss Edith's game, but if he was going to get some sort of pleasure that didn't involve his right hand, he'd have to. Spike caught one last glimpse of Drusilla before she disappeared beyond the frills of lace on Miss Edith's dress -- and the look of mischief on her face made him suddenly wish he'd refused.
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