Disclaimers: Characters and concept of Buffy the Vampire Slayer are property of Joss Whedon and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters and story are exclusive property of the author.
Author's Note: My apologies to the younger readers, but this one is at least an R any way you look at it. This story isn't totally necessary in understanding the series, so you don't have to worry about skipping it. Not very mirthful, but I wanted to keep to the rhyme, and these vamps seem to enjoy everything they do. This series started as a story for 2nd season Buffy, then seriously got put on the back-burner. The result of dragging it out of the dusty folders is the following re-working. More will hopefully follow . . .
Rating: R. Violence, bloodiness, mature sexual themes, and F/F slash right from the get-go. Remember, this is Spike and Dru. You have been warned.
Two For Mirth
© 2001, Grace Macy
France, 1889
Paris was truly lovely this time of year. Marissa, once known as Marisol Cortez, gave a long sigh of contentment and leaned her head back, letting it loll on her shoulders as she looked up at the night-sky. The body of a young aristocrat dropped limply to the ground at her feet, his shining dark curls plastered with sweat and blood to the sides of his pretty face. Well, it had been pretty. Now it was a bit scarred, very pale, and quite dead. Marissa licked her fingers and lips delicately, and looked back down at the empty blue eyes with a smile.
From a few feet away, she heard Drusilla finishing her own meal of the boy's older brother, and Spike, darling Spike, just beginning his own taste of their chaperone. Marissa smiled and regarded her partners fondly. It had been Spike's idea to torture the three mortals first, but it had been Drusilla who had pointed them out. As always, the eldest vampire had exquisite taste. They'd had a lovely game of it, luring the three mortals into the alleyway, then into the abandoned building. Then again, in this section of Paris, no one might even have cared about the screams if they'd heard them.
Marissa let out a little purring sound as she felt the lingering rush of the kill, the boy's blood still soaring through her veins. Drusilla looked up from her meal and smiled at her, yellow eyes shining pale in the moonlight, and only partially sane. "He tastes like starlight," Dru told her happily. "I can feel him singing allll through me."
Marissa smiled back at her and chuckled, feeling a different hunger building. She stood, dusting off her full skirts, and approached the other woman, stopping just a few inches short of the second boy. Drusilla gazed up at her and Marissa allowed her face to shift back into its human guise, knowing Drusilla liked it. She knelt in front of the vampire and leaned forward, across the elder boy's prone form, until her new warmth whispered against Drusilla's skin. There was a spill of his blood against Drusilla's lips, leaving a streak of crimson down her chin. Marissa murmured, "Let me have a taste, mi preciosa?"
Drusilla giggled, and Marissa leaned forward a bit more, her tongue slipping out from between parted lips to slowly lick away the spilled blood. She smiled as she savored the taste. "Just like starlight," she agreed politely, then let her mouth continue upwards a bit to Dru's lips, tasting the boy's life there as well. Dru responded, and the kiss deepened until they heard a soft groan come from between them. The two vampires pulled apart, and Marissa looked down at Dru's pick, feigning surprise as he regained some level of consciousness and looked up at them. "Well, well . . .," she murmured.
Drusilla smiled down at the boy, still in her vampiric mask. "He wants to dance with us. Isn't that right?" she asked the boy. He was staring at them, comprehension beginning to dawn, although it was still through a haze. Drusilla's eyes bored into his, the Power in her reaching out to his mind and wrapping about it. "All the little stars in the sky," Drusilla sang softly, "are reaching down to you and I. And we'll spin and we'll spin, and we'll spin 'til we die."
Marissa didn't correct her about rhyme scheme or the technicality that only the boy wasn't already dead. She just smiled as the boy stared up at her paramour, falling into the spell woven by her eyes.
Drusilla smiled happily and moved back on her knees to give the boy more room. "Come on!" she urged him. She stood and leaned down to pull at his hands. She managed to pull him up to his feet, where he swayed until Drusilla started moving. It was a rough spin, like children would do in a game. Drusilla laughed gaily, and the boy tottered, his legs struggling to keep up through the lethargy induced by blood-loss. "Spin, and spin, and spin, and spin," Drusilla sang. "And spin, and spin 'til . . . we . . . die!"
Her timing, as always, was impeccable. She let herself drop, bringing the boy with her, just as his knees folded in exhaustion. Marissa laughed and clapped her hands appreciatively, but shook her head as the boy lay motionless on the ground. Dru pouted and crawled over to him, prodding him disappointedly. "Now I've broken him," the elder vampire sighed. "I hate it when that happens. They never last long enough. They go and leave me all alone again."
Now it was Marissa's turn to pout, and she did it well as she crossed her arms. "All alone?" she repeated. "What about me? And Spike?" She narrowed her eyes, feigning irreparable hurt, and turned away as if in a huff.
Drusilla's eyes widened, and she reached out to grab at Marissa's skirts. "Oh! I'm sorry, my doll!" She knew it was a game, knew that Marissa wasn't truly going to walk away anytime soon; she loved playing this role. "Let me prove it!"
Marissa didn't turn around. It wasn't time yet. In the other corner of the building's courtyard, she saw Spike regarding them in amusement, his own meal finished and limp at his feet. He remained silent, letting the two women play their game.
"I don't believe you," Marissa answered, letting theatrical hurt coat her tones.
Drusilla made a soft, careful sound of dismay. "Ohhh. Come here to me. Please . . ." Her voice turned sweet and coaxing, at odds with the vampiric mask she still wore. She crept forward a bit, nudging aside the second boy's body, and placed her hands up on Marissa's hips. "I have a present for you."
Marissa smiled to herself and Spike, but buried the expression as she turned slowly. "Do you, mi linda?"
Drusilla looked up at her, her expression wickedly sly as she shifted back into her human face. "Oh, yes," she said huskily, her hands on Marissa's waist. "Such a lovely present. I promise you'll love it ever so much. Do you want it?"
Marissa smiled slightly and allowed Drusilla to pull her forward and then down. The second boy's body was still between them, but it created a nice pillow this time as Drusilla laid her down on the courtyard floor. The boy had tasted of starlight to Drusilla, but Marissa tasted of so much more . . .
Spike watched the two women, giving them a while together more out of enjoyment of watching them than out of any notion of privacy. He loved the way they moved together, pale skin and glossy dark hair, twining and shifting in a luxurious dance. It had been nearly six months since he had Turned the girl as a gift for Drusilla, and he hadn't regretted a single moment of it. He was beginning to understand Angelus' reluctance to acquiesce to Drusilla's wish when she had asked Angelus to Turn her new lover, Spike, so many years ago.
Angelus had had Darla and Drusilla all to himself before then . . . just as Spike had Drusilla and Marissa all to himself now. He grinned as he watched them, feeling the fire in his gut grow by leaps and bounds with the sounds Marissa was making. Strange how those moans, so different from the ones he had so recently forced out of the matronly aristocrat, could be just as arousing. Well, he corrected himself with a smile, thinking back on it, almost as arousing.One hand reached down to the fastening of his breeches, and he began to allow his own physical pleasure as he continued to watch and listen. Drusilla was such a talented girl, in so many ways, and she was very enthusiastic when it came to proving her love. Marissa's moans were growing slowly louder, mixed in with curses and pleadings as Drusilla purposefully kept her attentions slow, never letting the other woman climax. Spike smiled. Ah yes, there were all different kinds of torture. He continued to watch and pleasure himself, keeping pace, sharing the younger vampire's frustration and need.
When Drusilla finally allowed Marissa to come, he smiled and pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against. Neither woman was surprised to find him quickly at their sides, and the play became much more heated.
*
It was just an hour before dawn. Drusilla lay contentedly against Marissa, the warmth of the mortals' borrowed blood already fading from their bodies. Spike lay against Dru in turn, his head pillowed on her lap as Drusilla's head lay on Marissa's chest. All three were naked, oblivious to the chill of the pre-dawn air. Marissa combed the fingers of one hand idly through Dru's long tresses, her other hand playing languorous finger-wrestling games with one of Spike's hands. Drusilla's eyes were on the still-dark sky, her gaze distant. A faint smile pulled at her lips.
Marissa leaned her head down to drop a light kiss on Dru's forehead. "What do you see, preciosa?"
There was a moment of silence before Drusilla replied, long enough to prompt Spike to murmur her name in question. Then she stirred and answered, "She's been listening and watching. It's very rude."
"Who's been watching, pet?" Spike asked, craning his head up to search the empty windows of the building around them.
"Her," Dru answered, petulantly. "The pretty doll who shares my lovely's face. She's sharing us too, now, only she doesn't want to." She giggled. "I can't imagine what she must think, the little peep."
Marissa frowned. "Maya is dead," she reminded her lover. She had been feeling something odd for the past few weeks, but she had ignored it, assuming it was only the product of memory, like a phantom limb. She repeated, "Ella es muerta. I killed her myself, remember?"
But some part wasn't surprised when Dru giggled again and answered, "No, she isn't." the elder vampire giggled again and craned her head around to look at Marissa. "Can't you feel it? She's all wound up around you, like a shiny ribbon, just waiting to be caught by a kitten." She lifted a hand and made a quick, playful little grab at Marissa's hair. Marissa wasn't amused.
"No!" The Spaniard stood abruptly, pushing Drusilla off of her and leaving her two paramours to hit the ground rather hard. She stalked away from them and then spun. Her chest heaved as she took deep, unneeded breaths of fury. She didn't notice or care that Drusilla was pouting at the scrapes from the sudden impact with the flagging of the courtyard. "I killed her!" Marissa snarled, shifting abruptly into her demon-face. "I drained her of every drop and then let her fall. I felt her heart stumble and---"
She stopped suddenly, yellow eyes wide, but it wasn't at the realization that she was standing stark-naked, or that the sun was going to be coming up, or even that Spike and Dru were regarding her with confused faces. She stopped because her anger had slipped open a door that had been nearly completely shut for six months. And through that door was now coming a sense that was terribly familiar. She paled of her newly-won blood.
"No," she murmured. "It's not possible." She came back to herself and glared at her lovers. A low growl came from her throat as she rushed forward and pounced on Drusilla, throwing the woman down on the ground and straddling her, her hands wrapped about the slender undead neck. "How is it possible!?!?" she demanded. "She's supposed to be dead! Why isn't she dead?!"
Drusilla stared at her in shock, and pulled at her hands in vain. Then hard arms were wrapping around Marissa's waist and shoulders, pulling her back from the struggling vampire. She fought, but the grip remained strong, and Spike's voice sounded in her ear. "Touch her like that again, pet, and I will leave you out here in the sun."
Marissa's breath caught at the cold tone behind the threat, but Drusilla only started laughing. Delighted laughter. Both of the younger vampires froze in surprise and looked down at the mad vampire. Drusilla was giggling now, sitting up with her elbows braced against the ground. "Oh Spike," she cooed. "Don't be angry!" She looked at Marissa and sat up completely, the action closing the distance between their bodies so that her cooling skin pressed unhindered against the length of Marissa's body. She peered into Marissa's eyes and her face shifted into its vampiric mask. "Don't be angry," she repeated, softly, seductively. "You're bound. It's what made us notice you. It's what makes it fun. You have death, and she has life. Forever."
Marissa frowned. She tried to keep hold of her fury, but the feel of Drusilla's body against her, and Spike's growing attention behind her, was very . . . distracting. "How? What do you mean?"
"You'll see." Drusilla smiled, but her attention was drifting somewhere else. Physically, somewhere a little more south. The younger vampire shivered, her body betraying her. Behind her, she felt Spike's body do the same, his interest quite plain now. The way they had been positioned before, during the struggle, meant that both he and Drusilla had perfect access to her. Drusilla clearly planned to take advantage of this, and Spike was just as clearly willing to follow her lead.
Marissa shuddered and let out a growl of pleasure low in her throat, then tried to reach for the other woman. But she found Spike's arms moving to intercept. They wrapped around the juncture of her elbows, pulling her arms back and locking them into a secure position behind her back. His voice was a cold chuckle against her ear. "Ah, ah, ah. You've been a naughty girl, my pet."
Drusilla's mouth left off its ministrations as she looked up at them. "Oh yes," she purred. "You shall have to be punished." She smiled and leaned forward to give a sharp nip to Marissa's other breast, leaving a line of blood behind as Marissa gasped at the electric pleasure.
Marissa growled softly. "I promise to be bad if you do," she murmured.
Spike chuckled again. "Oh, we do hope so." He looked down at Dru and a wordless agreement seemed to pass between them. Drusilla reached a little ways, to where Spike had left a length of rope after playing with his meal. She reached around to Marissa's arms and found the younger vampire's wrists. With an ease born of long practice, she tied them together without even having to look. "Thank you most kindly, princess," Spike murmured. Then he released Marissa's arms and slid his now-free hands against her skin.
Marissa's breath came in reflexively, taken in panting gasps that grew shallower as the assault continued. Vampires experienced pain differently, fed on it as they fed on blood, especially when it was given and welcomed as it was now, and with one of their own kind. She arched against them, the growls slowly becoming moans as Drusilla's elegant fingers slid between her thighs. Behind her, she felt Spike shift his position slightly.
***
In a tiny bedroom a hundred miles away, Maya Cortez lay on her bed and shook. It had started as a nightmare of creating terror in three innocents, torturing and then killing them. Then it became something else, but still something recognizable. But this . . .
She felt Spike between Marissa's legs, and Drusilla's fingers fast and experienced. A moan was dragged from her throat as she felt it between her own legs, felt the push and the teasing, the delicious manipulation she had never experienced else. She heard, felt, Marissa let out a cry of surprise, pain . . . and pleasure.
And then sensation began to come faster. Harder. More punishing. Her moans became whimpers, then cries and screams as every inch of her body felt what Marissa was experiencing. They pleasured her, took her, used her, fed from her, abused and tortured her. And through it all, the bond remained open. Pain entwined with pleasure until Maya could no longer separate them from one another, didn't know where one ended and the other began, or even if there was a beginning or ending. Until she didn't know if each reaction, each sense of pain -- or worse, pleasure -- was that of her sister or her own.
Maya felt Marissa's long groan of pleasure, and heard it echoed in her own throat. She writhed on the bed, biting down on her lip in an effort to curb the cries emerging from her throat, knowing that by now everyone in the surrounding rooms must have heard and awakened. Shame burned in her chest, but it was a dim candle next to the blazing sun of the sensations pouring into her, over her, through her. Ceaseless, merciless, terrible . . . incredible. It built, and built, crashed over Marissa -- over her -- in a release so great it lifted Maya's hips from the bed, made her hands clench so hard that the sheets were torn from the thin mattress.
She felt Spike's own climax within Marissa soon after, accompanied by the searing pain of his teeth driving into the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Marissa looked down, and Maya watched as Drusilla smiled slowly, languorously. Promising more. Maya whimpered as another shudder of climax ripped through Marissa, echoed in Maya's own body.
Drusilla reached her free hand up to cradle Marissa's face, the touch gentle, tender . . . so sweet, so nice . . . And suddenly Drusilla's voice was in Maya's head, even though the vampire's lips never moved. Her Power flowed across the link between the twins, and Maya gasped as she heard that sing-song voice tell her, "Are you enjoying this, too? You are . . . I can feel it . . . We could do this always, if you'd just come to us. I would so love to have a matched set. Two such pretty dolls, you are . . ."
The shock of it snapped the link closed, and Maya sank back on her bed, shaking violently. She barely recognized the hoarse whimper as her own voice as it begged, "Please . . ."
But what made her shake harder, even when the first rays of the sun crept through her window, chasing away the terrible night, was the fact that she didn't know for what the plea had been. For an end to the torture . . . or for more?
***
In Paris, Drusilla smiled as she leaned, still naked, against a carefully boarded-up window. Behind her, Spike was gently covering Marissa with a blanket, arranging it tenderly about the worn-out vampire. Drusilla knew this without needing to look, just as she knew when Spike stood and approached her, just as naked as the two women. Instead, she watched through the tiny cracks as the sun rose over the edge of the building facing them.
Dru giggled at the growing light, and craned her head around to look up at Spike as he came to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. He raised an eyebrow in question. She informed him merrily, "That will give our pretty peep something to think about."
She giggled again, and then let Spike lead her to where they would sleep through the day. Tomorrow night, perhaps they would show her two pretty dolls a real party.