A Song of Sixpence
Jun. 26th, 2008 09:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Drusilla/Riley
Rating: NC-17
Summary: “You’re Spike’s tin soldier,” she whispers. “And I want you to sing.”
A/N: Written for my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kink_bingo prompt-piercing and for tamingthemuse prompt 101-entice. Takes place between AtS s5 and comics canon.
He wakes to pain. Little pricks running up and down his body, and when he moves the tiny pinpoints of pain expand. Sharp fingernails capture his jaw, twisting and turning his face. He tries to open his eyes, tries to fight the claws digging into his skin. He can’t. He’s a prisoner, blind and helpless.
“Chirp for me,” a voice croons. “I’ve tap, tap, tapped on your shell, cracked it open for you. Now I want to hear your song.”
“Sing,” he croaks. “You’re holding me hostage and you want me to sing.”
The fingers drop his jaw. He can hear her, and after their little talk he’s positive his captor is female, walking around the room. Singing.
“Sing a song of sixpence,” she murmurs, her voice giving each word a sharp edge.
The fingers are back, skittering over his head. The blindfold falls away and he blinks against the light. It’s almost blinding to his unaccustomed vision.
“Do you know?” she asks him, and he stares up at her. “Do you know how to sing, my lovely?”
“I’m not singing,” he tells her. “My name is Riley Finn, serial number 257-75…”
The fingers return and they cut off his words. He struggles against the preternaturally strong hand around his neck until her now golden eyes swim into view. Vampire. He should have known. There’s no escaping the legacy of his days in Sunnydale.
“You’re Spike’s tin soldier,” she whispers. “And I want you to sing.”
She reaches out with her other hand; the bright red of her nails a flaring sunspot in his dimming vision. Something silver flashes, dances. Riley stops struggling and the pressure on his throat eases.
The swift shock of pain shakes him from his stupor. He gasps, a rapid inhalation that does little to relieve the burning pain in his chest. He follows her gaze down, gaping at the needle buried in his flesh.
She kneels, a smile curving across her elfin face. A quick look at him and her tongue snakes out, following the thin trickle of blood back to his sensitive nipple. The rasp of her tongue over his swollen, abused flesh is enticing, almost erotic. Behind his eyes, snatches of his past play in an endless loop- the drugging pain of fangs slicing through him, the throb of a greedy mouth sucking his blood in long pulls.
“Stop,” he begs, straining against the binds that hold his hands.
“Shan’t,” she informs him softly. “I’ve cracked your shell, pecked you free and you still haven’t sung. So many pretty songs you could sing, couldn’t you, my love? You’ve got the music of angels and devils inside you.”
Another flash of silver, and he tries to brace for the pain. He breathes slowly, trying to relax himself. He hears her laugh, a long peal that echoes and ripples as she pushes the needle with deliberate slowness through the head of his cock.
He groans, long and low, as his body shakes under her hands. Her fingers stroke him, dabbling in the small spurts of blood leaking from his pierced dick. He moans as she sucks his blood from her fingertips.
She stares at him, her eyes swirls of gold and brown. His body twitches, limbs shot through with conflicting impulses-flee; kneel; fight; fuck. He sits there, eyes trapped by her hypnotic gaze.
“Full up,” she whispers. “Just like my Spike, you’re full of secrets the others don’t see. Songs that no one else hears play inside you. But I hear them, my little bird. I’ll listen to you chirp them for eternity.”
She leans down, her lips as soft on his skin as a breath of air. He sighs, a whisper which quickly converts to a soundless scream as her fangs penetrate his throat. The needles were pale substitutes for this final, ecstatic pain.
Riley Finn shakes, bound hands spastic by his side. She strokes his growing erection, the needle in his cock only heightening the agonizing pleasure. He wants to moan, to scream, but all he can do is sit back in her arms and enjoy this final moment of mortal pleasure before he dies.
She lays him down gently, nimble fingers working to remove the thin needles from the body of her newest. The earth shakes and quakes, spitting its displeasure and she can sense how little time is left. Her little bird must be ready before the conflagration. She lays the needles aside. He’ll need marking when he wakes.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: “You’re Spike’s tin soldier,” she whispers. “And I want you to sing.”
A/N: Written for my
kink_bingo prompt-piercing and for tamingthemuse prompt 101-entice. Takes place between AtS s5 and comics canon.He wakes to pain. Little pricks running up and down his body, and when he moves the tiny pinpoints of pain expand. Sharp fingernails capture his jaw, twisting and turning his face. He tries to open his eyes, tries to fight the claws digging into his skin. He can’t. He’s a prisoner, blind and helpless.
“Chirp for me,” a voice croons. “I’ve tap, tap, tapped on your shell, cracked it open for you. Now I want to hear your song.”
“Sing,” he croaks. “You’re holding me hostage and you want me to sing.”
The fingers drop his jaw. He can hear her, and after their little talk he’s positive his captor is female, walking around the room. Singing.
“Sing a song of sixpence,” she murmurs, her voice giving each word a sharp edge.
The fingers are back, skittering over his head. The blindfold falls away and he blinks against the light. It’s almost blinding to his unaccustomed vision.
“Do you know?” she asks him, and he stares up at her. “Do you know how to sing, my lovely?”
“I’m not singing,” he tells her. “My name is Riley Finn, serial number 257-75…”
The fingers return and they cut off his words. He struggles against the preternaturally strong hand around his neck until her now golden eyes swim into view. Vampire. He should have known. There’s no escaping the legacy of his days in Sunnydale.
“You’re Spike’s tin soldier,” she whispers. “And I want you to sing.”
She reaches out with her other hand; the bright red of her nails a flaring sunspot in his dimming vision. Something silver flashes, dances. Riley stops struggling and the pressure on his throat eases.
The swift shock of pain shakes him from his stupor. He gasps, a rapid inhalation that does little to relieve the burning pain in his chest. He follows her gaze down, gaping at the needle buried in his flesh.
She kneels, a smile curving across her elfin face. A quick look at him and her tongue snakes out, following the thin trickle of blood back to his sensitive nipple. The rasp of her tongue over his swollen, abused flesh is enticing, almost erotic. Behind his eyes, snatches of his past play in an endless loop- the drugging pain of fangs slicing through him, the throb of a greedy mouth sucking his blood in long pulls.
“Stop,” he begs, straining against the binds that hold his hands.
“Shan’t,” she informs him softly. “I’ve cracked your shell, pecked you free and you still haven’t sung. So many pretty songs you could sing, couldn’t you, my love? You’ve got the music of angels and devils inside you.”
Another flash of silver, and he tries to brace for the pain. He breathes slowly, trying to relax himself. He hears her laugh, a long peal that echoes and ripples as she pushes the needle with deliberate slowness through the head of his cock.
He groans, long and low, as his body shakes under her hands. Her fingers stroke him, dabbling in the small spurts of blood leaking from his pierced dick. He moans as she sucks his blood from her fingertips.
She stares at him, her eyes swirls of gold and brown. His body twitches, limbs shot through with conflicting impulses-flee; kneel; fight; fuck. He sits there, eyes trapped by her hypnotic gaze.
“Full up,” she whispers. “Just like my Spike, you’re full of secrets the others don’t see. Songs that no one else hears play inside you. But I hear them, my little bird. I’ll listen to you chirp them for eternity.”
She leans down, her lips as soft on his skin as a breath of air. He sighs, a whisper which quickly converts to a soundless scream as her fangs penetrate his throat. The needles were pale substitutes for this final, ecstatic pain.
Riley Finn shakes, bound hands spastic by his side. She strokes his growing erection, the needle in his cock only heightening the agonizing pleasure. He wants to moan, to scream, but all he can do is sit back in her arms and enjoy this final moment of mortal pleasure before he dies.
She lays him down gently, nimble fingers working to remove the thin needles from the body of her newest. The earth shakes and quakes, spitting its displeasure and she can sense how little time is left. Her little bird must be ready before the conflagration. She lays the needles aside. He’ll need marking when he wakes.
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no subject
on 2008-06-27 06:22 pm (UTC)I cry uncle!
Exquisite! Oh so bright and sharp and magnificent. I'm all a-shudder. Poor Ri. He's never going to know what she meant.
Awesome Dru. So pretty and sharp and with it. *clap clap clap*
no subject
on 2008-06-29 11:29 pm (UTC)