Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Drusilla is a like a song. A song full of off keys and missed notes, but a song nonetheless. Darla loves the song Drusilla is even if the missed keys get on her nerves sometimes. They are bonded for all their immortal lives. As cruel as they are beautiful. That’s why Angelus and Spike fancy them so. The men press kisses all over their bodies along with a few bites for good measure, marking them as theirs. And they return the favor with fervor. 

But there’s a couple things Darla does only for Drusilla. And she threatens Drusilla into never telling a soul, or the soulless.

Darla likes Drusilla’s feet. They’re soft and supple and so slight they look as if they’ll break if Drusilla runs. But her feet are strong enough to press her heeled boot down on a man’s neck and snap it just last month. Her feminine frame carries more power than Darla expects for a younger vampire. 

Drusilla has on not one stitch of clothing and she’s spread out on the hotel bed. Her loose hair flows behind her on the pillow. They’re in Paris, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake as one does on vacation. Now Darla needs a post kill treat. 

Drusilla’s naked form is so beautiful Darla wishes she knew how to draw. And she feels an intrinsic appreciation for her female form no man could truly grasp, least of all Angelus and Spike. 

Her breasts rise and fall like Darla’s do. And they fall against each other when the boys are away and the girls need to find a way to keep themselves busy. 

“Grandmummy,” Drusilla begins, spreading her legs a little bit. “Come play with my little piglets.” She twiddles her toes.

“Dru, what did I tell you about calling me grandmummy during this?”

Of all the kinks Darla has, that is not one of them. 

“Sorry, Darla.” And Darla finds her name to be music coming from Drusilla’s dark red lips.

“Mm, I love to hear you say my name.”

“So make me say it over, and over, and over.” And Drusilla sways from side to side.

“As you wish, darling.”

Darla holds Drusilla’s foot with her pink toe nail polish in her hands and drapes her tongue along the arch. Drusilla shudders and lolls her head back against the pillow. 

“You taste like butter and honey,” Darla purrs.

“You said between my legs tasted like raspberries and cream. Which taste do you prefer?” 

“Oh Dru, don’t make me choose.” She nibbles on her big toe, which curls. “I want to taste you every way I can get you.”

Drusilla closes her eyes and smiles to herself. “Good answer.”

Darla repeats her actions on Drusilla’s other foot, while Drusilla snakes a hand between her legs and begins rubbing her clit. 

“You’re so beautiful when you touch yourself,” Darla says. “But let me help.” She smiles deviously and kissed up Drusilla’s legs and between her parted thighs. 

“I never get tired of this,” Drusilla says with what sounds like a contained squeal.

Darla parts Drusilla’s lips and encircles her clit with her lips and sucks. Drusilla gasps and her hand flies to Darla’s blonde locks. 

Darla then slides a finger into Drusilla’s cunt and finds growing wetness. “Wet from just me nibbling your feet, you’ll get wet over anything.”

“Is that a problem, Darla?” 

“No, I love my girl when she’s a proper slut.”

“Yeah, I’m your whore.”

Drusilla never liked it if Angelus or Spike call her a whore. But for Darla? She much loves it. 

“All mine. Now I eat you up.” Darla works Drusilla’s cunt for longer until the woman is a panting and writhing mess. Her name falls from her lips like a symphony. 

Drusilla comes with a mini scream, digging her nails into Darla’s scalp and beading up a dot or two of blood with it. 

“Nails are sharp as ever,” Darla says, licking her lips of raspberries and cream. 

“Oh... you got my head all kaboom.” Drusilla makes an explosion gesture with her hands above her head. 

"As was my plan."

Chapter Text

“Not so much teeth there buddy,” Warren instructs. Andrew takes his length into his mouth yet again. It’s not like he hasn’t improved at all but Warren always has to instruct Andrew at least somewhat when he does this. Which is insane as he assumed Andrew would have an intuitive knowledge of how to give a blowjob even though Warren never returned the favor. “Maybe next time.” And the poor thing, Andrew looks like he could cry every time. Cruel to curse a man with blue balls maybe but giving another man head is beyond Warren’s pay grade. 

This is an easy way to get Andrew’s loyalty to grow even stronger. And while it may be head from a man, and he is not in the least bit gay—he pictures his ex-girlfriend in place of the mess of blond hair—it’s still head nonetheless and Andrew never fails to get him there at least. 

“Keep going man, I’m almost there.”

Andrew’s throat vibrates around his cock, moaning with a stuffed mouth. The guy really loves giving him head. He still uses mental gymnastics afterwards to convinced himself that he’s not gay. Warren doesn’t even remember what his logic is. Warren doesn’t remember a lot of things Andrew says though. 

Warren fists Andrew’s hair when he finishes. Which is his mistake as it makes it harder to imagine long brown hair in short blond hair’s place.

“Always swallow,” Warren says, and Andrew obliges. He swallowed the first time without having to be asked. But he’s not a faggot, no. 

Andrew looks up at him with hopeful eyes. “This is the fourth time I’ve done this. Not that I don’t like it, it’s just...” He glances down.

“My jaw gets so sore so easily.” His canned response comes quickly.

Andrew still looks down, and when he looks back up his blue eyes are glassy. Oh for fuck’s sake he’s actually crying this time. He cries so often and it gives Warren secondhand embarrassment every time. 

Warren stuffs himself into his pants. “Alright look, I’ll give you a handy is that okay?” He worries his lack of reciprocation will spell trouble. This whole thing is a bad idea anyways, but it’s too late to quit now.

Andrew smiles and rubs Warren’s knee. “I feel so close to you.”

Ugh, it’s fine if he’s gay but does he have to be such a girl about it?

Andrew stands up then sits beside him. He bites his lip and unzips his pants.

And Warren can’t imagine it’s Katrina in this case. He will only do this for a few minutes and if Andrew doesn’t come by then that’s his problem and his balls will have to stay blue.

He rips off the bandaid and just goes for it, he cringes internally at the feel of a cock that is not his own in his hand. He fights all the twisting his face wants to do. Andrew sinks against him and buries his face in his neck. He’s already partially hard so hopefully this will be quick. 

Andrew whimpers against him. It comes as no surprise to Warren he moans like a girl. 

Andrew grips Warren’s arm and shudders a cry before spilling into his hand. 

What was that, a minute? Maybe two? Warren’s happy it was over fast, but really? 

Warren fights laughter, but his face betrays him. “You always come so fast, man?”

Andrew keeps his face buried against Warren’s neck. He feels his breath on his skin and it’s bothersome.

“No one’s ever touched me before, don’t judge.” His words are muffled.

“If it was a blowjob or anything warm and wet I’d understand, but it’s just my hand, dude.”

Andrew mumbles something incoherent.

Warren figures he’s probably crying again, just better not be on him. His handful of cum is bad enough. Warren looks for that roll of paper towels but doesn’t see it. So instead he opts for Jonathan’s hoodie which is beside him and wipes his hand clean. Whatever, he’ll throw it in the washing machine and Jonathan will never know.

Andrew sits up. “Isn’t that Jonathan’s hoodie?”  

“I’ll throw it in with my mom’s wash later. It’s fine.”

“That’s so fucked up.”

“What’s fucked up is being in your twenties and having the dick of a fifty year-old who’s been divorced twice.”

And what’s amazing is he can talk to him like this and Andrew will still happily suck his dick again the next day as if Warren showers him with flowers and candy hearts. Sometimes he presses his buttons just to see how far he can go.

Andrew huffs. “You should be nice to me, or else I can tell Jonathan about the hoodie.”

Okay, so that was too far. Good to know he’s not a total doormat because that would just be sad. Not that Andrew isn’t sad already, but at least he has limits.

***

“No, I don’t believe you washed it out of the goodness of your heart, what happened to it?” Jonathan presses them both.

“It was stinking up this whole basement, I told you man,” Warren says.

Andrew gives away guilt with his sweating and nervously darting eyes. “You caught us Jonathan.” They were both silent. “We did hardcore BDSM all over your hoodie. I—it’s a kink. You wear clothes that are too small for you, it’s compression kink.” He swallows roughly.

“Compression kink,” Jonathan says incredulously. 

“Yes.”

“You know what fine, don’t tell me. But I’m not wearing this anymore.”

A kernel of truth in a lie actually isn’t a bad idea. Though Warren knew it would never cross Jonathan’s mind that Andrew had gotten any sexual attention. So they were always safe. 

Chapter Text

It’s itchy inside this body—Faith’s body. Buffy can’t shake this itch she feels and no matter how much she tries to get rid of it it won’t go away. That is when the itch is more overpowering her other senses, especially her self control. As she can’t stop her hands from wanting to wander. Can’t stop them from lifting up Faith’s shirt and kneading a breast over her black lacey bra. She snaps the bra off and is left with Faith’s tits free. A rush comes to Faith’s pussy as Buffy does this. The tits she so admired from a far now in her hands, and they’re amazing. She’s never touched another woman’s breasts before and while they are technically her own she still feels they’re foreign to her. 

Buffy slinks her hand down to Faith’s pants and unfastens them. Her heart pounds in Faith’s chest. She pulls them and her matching black lacey underwear off. Faith’s cunt is unshaven but looks to be trimmed back. Buffy often waxes her own because she felt like she should, but seeing Faith being au naturel is more erotic than she thought it would be. 

Her hands cups her mound and finds it as soft as her own. She guesses womens’ genitals have some universal features. Buffy bites her lip then raises her hand to her face, she has to see if Faith smells the same as her. And she doesn’t. She’s sweeter than what Buffy feels is her own unpleasant smell. She wishes she could dive into Faith’s pussy with her face and inhale her fully.

Is that unhinged? Is that weird? Is that gross?  

Her hand returns to between Faith’s legs and she teases her clit, finding that repeated pressure ontop of it feels better than massaging it in circles like it does in Buffy’s body. It’s amazing to feel what someone else feels so intimately. She wonders what Faith is doing in her body, what mayhem she’s causing. And what if Faith is treating her body the same? She gets a new rush to her cunt thinking about it.

What depraved things would Faith do to her? The same depraved things Buffy is doing to Faith? Now she hopes so. 

Buffy slides a finger inside Faith and finds growing wetness. She was always jealous of the numerous men Faith talked about hooking up with, including Xander, but now Faith’s wet pussy is all her own to do whatever she wants to.  

Did she ever get wet thinking about me? Buffy thinks.

She hates this woman. Who has caused so much suffering to her and her friends but her body, including this body, betrays her and she finds she can’t hate lust out of existence. After all, she still wanted Angel after the things he did. Perhaps this is her pattern. She’s doomed to want the criminal. 

Buffy squeezes one breast in her hand and puts pressure on Faith’s clit with her thumb while her index and middle finger penetrate. 

She breathes out a moan in Faith’s sexy husky voice. Now she knows what Faith sounds like moaning, as she’d imagined many times before. 

“Oh B, that’s amazing,” she says in that husky voice. She smiles, she finally got to hear her say that. 

She grows wetter, so much so it spreads up between her lips and makes keeping the friction harder. Faith gets wet faster than Buffy does, which she can’t help but love despite the lack of friction. 

She wipes the wetness clean from her lips and starts again. Much better. But Faith had to be a little whore and gush like Niagara Falls—as expected.

Now Faith is a whore for Buffy. 

Buffy finds Faith’s G-spot and feels that familiar pleasurable itch inside. Better than the itch of being in Faith’s body. She gasps and pants as she approaches her goal. The thought she will feel Faith’s orgasm drives her wild. 

“So close...” 

Buffy comes with a small scream, thrusting against her fingers as she rides out her climax. 

She goes limp, her hands loosely falling away from her cunt and breast. The cool air hugs the slick on her fingers. 

Does that count as a first lesbian experience if it was masturbating in another girl’s body?

Chapter Text

“Y—you’ve been bad, Willow.” Tara sits behind Willow, purple strap-on firmly in place around her hips. Willow requested Tara dominate her and Tara is having trouble finding the spirit. It doesn’t come natural to her. 

“I should be punished,” Willow says, swaying her bare ass in the air. She is face-down.

Tara hesitates then firmly smacks her right ass cheek. “You burned dinner. Which I warned you never to do again.”

“I’m sorry... I can be good again, I swear.”

Tara smiles a little. Okay this is kind of fun. And judging by Willow’s tone she’s thoroughly enjoying it.

Tara leans down over Willow, the strap brushes the entrance to Willow’s cunt, and whispers in her ear, ”I’m going to wreck you.”

“Mm, I will agree to your terms.”

Tara sits up and grabs Willow’s arm and pins it behind her back, then places her other hand over Willow’s mouth. Her strap breaches Willow’s entrance, already wet from the orgasm Tara bestowed on her earlier—perfectly ready.

Tara thrusts, not gently at first like she normally does, but roughly, shaking Willow as she moves

Willow’s mouth vibrates as she moans into Tara’s hand. 

“You’re a s—slut that lives to be fucked, aren’t you?” While she’s growing more confident, saying things like this still trips her up.

Tara thinks she hears an “Oh yeah” against her hand. 

“I won’t show you mercy.” Tara speeds up her thrusts even more. 

Willow starts throwing it back and Tara smacks her ass again, harder than before. She worries it was too hard but Willow just makes more happy noises against her hand. 

“You like that, baby?” Tara asks.

Willow is incoherent against her hand but it sounds like a yes. 

“You’re being such a good girl for me, taking me like a champ. There’s hope for you after all.”

Tara makes out a definite “Oh, Tara...” from beneath her hand. Tara smirks a little. She loves how undone she’s coming. 

Tara removes her hand from Willow’s mouth and firmly grasps Willow’s red hair between her fingers, pulling it a tad. “You’re all mine,” Tara says. 

“I’m all yours, baby,” Willow says through labored breaths. 

Tara lets Willow’s arm free and digs a finger into Willow’s pussy in with the strap. “You’re so wet you’re practically dripping.”

She pins Willow’s arm behind her back again and moves her other hand from Willow’s hair to her slippery clit. 

Willow cries out. “Oh, Tara.”

“That’s it. Say my name.” 

Tara has to admit she’s liking this more and more. She never has the power in real life. She just goes along with everyone else, but to see that Willow—who is the more powerful witch—is eagerly submitting to her surges electricity through her veins.  

Tara speeds up once more and Willow groans. Her sounds of pleasure are so beautiful to her. Willow is so beautiful to her. And to know Willow loves and trusts her enough to let her dominate her, and that she wants to give up control, means everything to Tara. 

“Tara baby, please don’t stop.” There’s frenzy in her voice. A frenzy Tara put there. She smirks wider this time. 

“You gonna come for me?”

Willow freezes and shudders, letting out a strangled cry as she loosely throws back against Tara’s strap.

Tara smiles and lets Willow’s hand free. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Willow rolls over, breathless and her eyes wide. “Oh...  my... god.”

Tara starts removing the strap-on. “So, good I assume?”

“Tara, you did amazingly.”

Tara sinks to her side and strokes Willow’s messed hair. “I’m glad to hear it.” Her lips envelop Willow’s in a soft kiss. “But you’re not done yet.”

Willow grins as Tara rolls on her back.

“Only do what I say,” Tara commands. She grabs the pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs from their bedside.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tara secures Willow’s hands behind her back with the cuffs. Tara spreads her legs. “Start flicking it with your tongue.”

Willow instantly obliges. Tara lets her head settle against the pillow and sighs. She had gotten so turned on fucking Willow she can tell she’s soaked. 

“Lick up all my wet,” Tara orders.

Willow slides her tongue between Tara’s folds and down to her entrance.

Tara loves when she does this. Willow laps it up and swallows it down.

“Now suck it.” Tara spreads her lips open to give access to her clit.

Willow does so. Tara gasps at the familiar sensation. Willow eats pussy like a seasoned lesbian not a fledgling lesbian. Tara considered the possibility she uses magic, but she thinks Willow has talents other than magic. 

“Willow, keep going,” Tara says, shutting her eyes. 

Willow presses on, eating her out like a woman starved. 

Tara moans something fierce and digs a hand into Willow’s hair and pulls. “Good girl. Go harder.” And Willow obeys, sucking harder. 

Tara feels herself getting close so she digs her nails into Willow’s scalp. “Almost there. You’re doing so well.”

Tara comes with a stutter to her hips and gasp from her mouth. “O—okay. You can stop.” She's never a fan of continuing to be eaten out immediately after orgasm. She's too oversensitive.

“Did I do good?” Willow asks with hope in her eyes, despite knowing she most definitely did do good. She’s like a puppy. 

“Yes. You did perfectly.” Tara gently cups Willow’s face. 

Willow manages to get herself up to Tara’s level and Tara undoes the handcuffs. 

They share a kiss with darting of their tongues. And Tara tastes and smells herself on Willow’s mouth, which she loves. Like she’s marked by her. All hers. 

Chapter Text

The Warren bot finishes sucking Andrew dry as per its programming. 

It looks up at him and smiles. “You taste like strawberry milkshake, Andrew.”

Andrew pets its hair. “I know, right. I’m a freak of nature.”

It moves its way up to beside him on the sofa in his home bedroom. “You’re also so muscular and strong. It amazes me to watch you.”

Andrew waves it off. “No, please. You’ll make me blush.”

Andrew is learning about how to program the bot as Warren had asked and has added some extra functions. Being as the base design already had sexual functions, it wasn’t hard to manage. Its intended use is that of a decoy and the real Warren still thinks it is, as he programmed the bot to never speak of what its extra capabilities are to anyone but him. 

It did trip Andrew up that it was a male robot, but it wasn’t actually a he, it was an it. Like a homosexuality loophole. It didn’t count.

“Warren, would you—do the thing?” He knows what it’s called, saw it referred to on Will and Grace or something, but it feels too real to say it out loud so he has a code term.

“Sure. Do you have the vegetable oil?”

Andrew grabs the small bottle from behind him. “Yes.”

He would never have the courage to buy that so vegetable oil it is.

“You’re always so thoughtful, thinking one step ahead.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

“Let’s take off he rest of our clothes now.”

He smiles wider. “Yeah.” He takes his pants and underwear all the way off then stops. “Actually wait. Let’s move to the bed.”

The bot takes off its shirt. “What a good idea, Andrew.”

They move to the bed and remove the rest of their clothing. Andrew lies on his back. 

It’s times like these, as the bot slicks its fingers in vegetable oil, he remembers how weird this. Insane. Sick. Depraved. And what would Warren think?

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, he thinks. 

Besides, Andrew’s already a supervillain, what’s a little more depravity?

Andrew spreads his legs as the bot stretches him. He heard that’s needed before this type of sex. Whether it actually is he isn’t sure but he doesn’t want to risk anything bad happening, especially with something that has much more strength than he does. 

After he’s stretched, the bots enters him. That amazing feeling of fullness he loves so much claims him. He feels a bit of shame he thinks he might slightly prefer it this way rather than the reverse, which they have also done.

“Oh god, you’re so tight and warm,” the bot exclaims. “You should lead the trio.”

“Fuck, you’re so right. Kiss me.”

It smiles softly. “You’re so beautiful, Andrew.”

The bot envelops his mouth in a deep kiss and Andrew cups its cheek in one hand and places his other on the Warren bot's back. Now he forgets how depraved this is. Because he forgets it’s a bot and actually feels loved.

“By the way,” the bot begins, thrusting, “I require a maintenance check in three days.”

His arms fall back away from it. “What? No, tell me that after! God.”

“You got it, buddy.”

“Whatever, sit up and rub my dick.” He folds his hands behind his head. 

“You got it, buddy.” It sits up on its knees and begins jerking his cock. 

“Say something different! I thought I fixed that.” 

“I’m sorry, Andrew. Would you like me to lick your neck?”

Andrew cracks a smile. “Yes.”

The bot leans down and slides its tongue across his neck. 

His eyes flutter shut. “Oh yeah... that’s the stuff.” 

The bot continues fucking him for a time. When it speaks less is usually when things go best.

“Can I go faster? I want to fuck you faster.”

Andrew sighs contentedly. “Yes, god yes.”

Good bot.

How can something that feels this good be bad?

“That’s so good. I love you so much, Warren,” Andrew says, putting his hand on the bot’s shoulder and squeezing. 

“I love you, Andrew. So much more than Jonathan.”

Andrew moans something fierce. “I’m almost there, keep going.”

They come at the same time, as he programmed the bot to do, Andrew spurting onto his chest and the Warren bot spurting nothing because Warren never built any hardware for ejaculation. This always disappoints Andrew as he very much desires creampies. 

They separate and lie beside one another, breathless. 

“That was the best sex of my life,” the bot says.

Andrew smiles to himself. “Yeah it was. Get me a towel then we get in our PJs and snuggle and watch Alien.”

“Sure thing, Andrew.” 
 
The bot cleans Andrew off and Andrew changes into his hamburger and hotdog-patterned pajamas. The bot changes into Andrew’s Christmas reindeer-patterned pajamas. They cuddle on the bed and turn the TV. Andrew hopes he falls asleep like this. 

A knock on the door sounds. 

“Andrew, are you in there?”

Warren. The real one.

“Fuck, hide!” Andrew whisper-yells. “No, wait, he’s looking for you, don’t hide. But change clothes.”

“Yes sir, Andrew.” The bot starts unbuttoning its shirt when the door opens. 

“Where have you been, we’ve been calling you,” Warren says, as Jonathan joins his side. 

“I was just—”

Warren points at the bot. “What is he wearing?”

“Um... pajamas.”

“Why?” Jonathan asks.

“I just wanted to see what he would and wouldn’t do.”

“Andrew asked we wear pajamas and watch Alien together,” the bot chimes in. At least it left out the cuddle part. 

“So why are you also wearing pajamas?” Warren asks.

He traces patterns on the quilt with his finger. “So it would see how stupid I look wearing them, and then if it put them on anyways, it would show how it really would do anything.” His voice is small.

Jonathan is shaking his head. “That’s so weird, dude.”

He smiles nervously. “Yeah, this is definitely the weirdest thing I’ve done with it.”

“I’m sure,” Warren says. “Now come on, we have slayer business to attend to.”

Chapter Text

“You have me simulate male-female sexual intercourse by playing the part of the male,” Illyria says as Wesley pulls his knees to his ears. 

“Yes,” Wesley replies. 

“What do you get out of taking on a woman’s role?” Illyria still wears her leather suit. She expressed no interest in receiving sexual acts. Wesley hopes she will change her mind eventually.

Illyria finds the situation of the sexes quite remarkable and also ridiculous. Her true form has no sex or gender. Sex and gender is something created my mortals. “It only divides,” she said. 

“It’s exciting to do something different,” Wesley explains. “Something taboo.”

Illyria spreads a coat of lube on a dark read dildo. “You desire to possibly be hated for something.” She nudges the dildo against his entrance. Wesley hums.

“I desire to see how the other half lives.”

Illyria cocks her head and breaches his entrance slightly. Wesley moans lightly. 

“You enjoy me dominating you because I look like her.”

“I enjoyed it before with someone else too.” Lilah—she introduced him to pegging. 

Ilyria moves the dildo further into him. 

Wesley pushes back into it. “What do you think of this?”

“It is not unpleasant. It makes me feel... powerful.”

“Do you not always feel powerful?”

“With my power diminished, no. I do not.” Her movements with the dildo still a bit before picking back up.

Wesley moans again. “Well you are doing a good job here.” 

“I appreciate your appreciation.”

“If you would just angle it upwards a tad,” Wesley requests.

“Against the prostate,” Illyria says.

“Yes.” His voice is strained.

Illyria complies, quirking the dildo upwards as she thrusts it. 

“That’s good—very good.”

Illyria takes his cock with her free hand. It's partially hard already.

“Oh god, even more good,” Wesley says breathlessly.

Illyria smirks ever so slightly. “You are a mere object I own.” Wesley requested this kind of degradation. “I do this purely for my own amusement. It means nothing to me.”

“Keep going.”

“As you wish, fucktoy.”

Wesley gets hot all over at her words. Lilah much enjoyed the degradation play as well. 

She continues her actions on his rear and dick, Wesley writhing around like a man in pain. The pleasure is a nice break from the pain, both mental and physical. 

What would Fred think of me now? He banishes the thought. No. He has to let himself enjoy this. 

He grows near. “Almost. Illyria...”

“Are you going to come for me? Like the slut you are?”

“God yes.” 

He comes with great intensity, his core vibrating from the pressure on his prostate. Paired with the stroking of his cock and he enters heaven for a few moments. 

Wesley lies breathless as Illyria removes the dildo and her hand from his cock. 

“I hope that was satisfactory,” Illyria says.

“Yes,” Wesley says. “More than satisfactory.”

“How do you think Fred would feel about this?”

He curtly sighs. “Don’t. I don’t want to think about that.”

“But she might object. Having sexual relations with the one who killed her.”

He bolts up. “I said stop it!”

Illyria’s face falls. “I see. I apologize if I’ve offended you.”

“If?”

“I apologize for offending you.”

Wesley lies back down. “Thank you.”

Illyria settles down on the bed. “I don’t know sometimes. What is acceptable social behavior and what is not.”

“Clearly.”

She cocks her head. “But you can continue to teach me so I get better. I want to get better.”

“Sure. You do need it.”

“Good. I enjoy you teaching me.”

Wesley cracks a smile. “I know.”

Chapter Text

Andrew acts during sex like women do in porn. And this leaves Warren torn, it boosts his ego to have Andrew slobbering all over his crotch and humping his leg like a dog, and Andrew makes a great dog; he’s so loyal. But it also just makes him feel deprived because he’s never had a woman—a real woman—act this way with him. Katrina was always on the more vanilla side which is fine for a while but she never wanted things like cum facials. Meanwhile April was programmed to love and request them. And Andrew first requested them after he grew more comfortable with him.  

It’s just not fair. 

Maybe men are just kinkier, he thinks. And Warren actually wishes he were gay, if the tales he’s heard of how easy it is to get sex within gay male communities are anything to go by. Not having to deal with the extra issues that come with being with a woman sounds perfect. How great would it be to date Andrew for real? They already have heaps in common and Andrew never nags him or has petulant mood swings. Video games and sex, what can be better than that?

Andrew is still kind of a girl but it’s not a huge deal.

But Warren finds Andrew about as sexually exciting as a dust pan. He has however discovered with time it’s possible to have decent sex with someone you’re not attracted to. Andrew certainly enjoys it more than Warren does though. And Warren does have a bit of shame in fucking a man partially just because he’s willing and no women around him are. 

Andrew is beneath Warren. Andrew's hands rest, fingers curled, by his head. Warren is sat up, buried hilt-deep inside him. Andrew mewls, and whines, and moans like girls in pornos. Warren does his best to picture Katrina like this. Andrew also loves being degraded. Being called filthy, and slut, and what took Warren aback, a faggot. The fact a gay guy gives him free license to call him a slur during sex, and loves it, is pretty hilarious to him. And Warren always enjoyed degradation used against his partner, so it’s a-okay to him. 

“You fucking faggot, you’re never happier than when there’s a dick in your ass.”

The thin line between hate crime and some kinky dialogue.

Warren still can’t believe he asks him to say this kind of thing. He feels a little bad.

“Oh god, Warren.” Andrew pants and arches his back. “Kiss me.” 

Andrew is interesting, he loves being degraded and manhandled in the same breath as getting tender kisses and caresses. And the grass is greener where you water it.

He leans down and kisses him, slipping him tongue. He usually only kisses him when Andrew requests it. “You’re so gorgeous, baby,” he says against his mouth. 

Andrew looks at Warren with such stars in his eyes. Warren never had Katrina—or anyone—look at him like that either.

And gorgeous... Maybe? He’s certainly better-looking than Jonathan at least.  

“Turn over,” Warren commands, pulling out. 

Andrew complies and gets face-down, ass-up—the perfect position for a woman. If only. He re-enters him and sighs. So nice and tight. Warren doesn’t love Andrew, but he certainly loves parts of him. However, the rectum is not as pleasurable as the pussy. But he isn’t about to complain about that. Who did complain about anal sex was the shrew he dated.

Andrew is like a fully-functioning sex bot without the programming needed. At least since he stopped complaining about not getting blowjobs or getting to top. But he’s not as placid as the bot, he pushes back just enough to keep things exciting. Andrew can have issues with Katrina’s death all he wants when at the end of the day he can still make him his bitch. It’s perfect. 

Warren pins Andrew’s hand behind his back and slips the other hand beneath him and starts jerking his cock. His least favorite part of these encounters but who would be loyal to someone who doesn’t get them off? At first he didn’t but Andrew got so damn fussy. 

Warren starts fucking him harder and closes his eyes and relishes it. It’s easier with closed eyes anyways.

“Oh please, Warren,” Andrew utters.

“’Please’ what? What do you want, sweetness?”

At first Warren was against pet names for him, but finds them a lot easier to get down when his dick is wet.

Andrew throws it back more desperately than before. “I wanna come so bad.”

Warren slides his thumb over the head of Andrew’s dick. He’s leaking greatly. An interesting thing, the prostate, and from what Andrew describes it sounds intense. Warren will still never take anything in his ass though, period.

”That’s for pretty girls like you,” Warren said to Andrew once when they discussed it. 

“Come for me like a good girl and I’ll come on your face,” Warren says.

Andrew gives a tiny smile. After a minute, he says, “A—almost.” And his voice when he approaches orgasm always sounds like he’s crying. 

Such a girl.

Andrew comes in a long groan and stills with a shudder. 

“Good girl,” Warren says, feeling himself grow near as well. He promptly pulls out. “Turn over.”

Andrew complies and lies on his back. His dick still drips cum. Warren fervently pumps his dick as he approaches climax. Andrew shuts his eyes which is much better than April’s glitch where she would keep her eyes open and cum would sit on her eyeball. Creepy.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Warren exclaims as he paints Andrew’s face in a rope of cum, splashing from his forehead and down his neck. He starts grinning before he’s even done coming. Because he loves this and like his dick doesn’t care about the chromosomes of what it’s inside it also doesn’t care about what it comes on either.
 
Warren laughs as Andrew opens his eyes. Andrew smiles lowly and reaches for Warren’s fingertips. Warren pairs Andrew’s firm grip with a loose one. 

“Oh yeah,” Warren says. “I fucking own you.”

Chapter Text

“Didn’t take you for such a cuddler,” Buffy says as Faith slips her boots back on. The bedsheets lie in a tangled mess.

“I’m not, just thinking maybe you are,” Faith replies.

After the encounter with Riley, Faith knows Buffy is definitely a cuddler. Faith wonders what genuine tenderness after sex is like. The experience with Riley was meant for Buffy, not Faith. To be offered tenderness at all is something Faith has little experience with. 

“Not something I always need,” Buffy says. “’To everything there is a season,’ you know.”

Faith blinks. “Or not something you always need with me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, there’s gotta be a reason.”

“There is one. I’m not in the mood.”

“Is this how it was with Spike?”

Buffy scoffs. “That is none of your business. You need to leave.” She walks to the door and opens it. 

Faith idly takes a few steps toward the exit. “Monsters don’t deserve tenderness, they deserve to be used and abused.”

Faith is used to this treatment, but getting it from an ally who’s supposed to have put the past behind her stings. She’ll always be a beast to her. 

“If I recall, you love the used and abused part.” She takes a few steps toward Faith. 

“You’ll always see me as a monster. Hey, look, I get it—you can forgive Angel and forgive Spike because they didn’t have a soul but I did. I did what I did with a soul fully intact.” She steps toward Buffy.

“You’re not a monster, Faith, just a bitch.”

“Whoa, B, you grew some teeth. Look, I think it’s hot.”

Despite being a slayer Faith always felt Buffy held back. She loves seeing her fight dirty.

Buffy steps closer and looks her up and down. “I always knew how to fight dirty.”

Buffy and Faith join in a rough kiss. Their bodies press flat against one another. 

Faith’s skin ignites in that special way Buffy makes her fizzle. Buffy presses her teeth against Faith’s neck and bites down softly. 

“You don’t have the guts to really bite,” Faith says. It’s a lie. She does. 

Buffy bites with decent strength. The pain and pressure sends a rush through Faith’s bloodstream. 

Their clothes they just put back on are off again and the door is closed, as goes their routine. Faith is Buffy’s reprieve from the immense pressure put on her to lead the potentials. This is her time to let loose and be reckless and young. And Faith obliges her.

Anything for her dear precious B.

Buffy licks up one of Faith’s breasts and kneads the other with her palm. She still has healing cuts on her palms from training earlier. Faith likes the rough texture of a wound against her skin. It reminds her of the fight without having to raise her fists. 

Their hands rub each other’s swollen clits as their wetness grows. Buffy has nimble fingers. Years of curling them into a fist has done her wonders. 

They get into position on the bed and their legs tangle as they press their cunts against one another. The relief of touch makes Faith moan. As does when they begin grinding against one another. Buffy grips Faith’s wrist roughly, digging her nails in as they move. The pressure on Faith’s clit makes her close her eyes and relish the feeling. Doing this had a learning curb but once they figured it out it’s one of their favorite things to do. 

Faith could write sonnets about Buffy’s pussy. About when it’s so ripe and wet and she knows she made it that way. As they grind, their wetness mixes which Faith once referred to as baking a cake. Buffy had made a face. 

Faith massages Buffy’s breast with her hand—she could write sonnets about Buffy’s tits too. They’re especially good when Faith has her face buried in them. She had fought the urge to motorboat once, maybe she’d do it after a few drinks. 

“Oh god—Faith,” Buffy utters. 

“B, you’re killing me here.”

“That’s the plan.” 

They share a tiny smile. 

Faith feels herself grow near so she digs her nails into Buffy’s breast hard enough to anticipate bright red marks. 

“Oh, Buffy, baby almost—” 

She comes with force, shuddering out her climax as Buffy’s hips stutter while she announces her own imminent arrival.  

Buffy comes with a long gasping moan. She has the quintessential girl-sounding orgasm, Faith reflects. 

They fall limp, still tangled around each other, their backs meeting the bed. 

“We should argue more often,” Faith says.

“Okay. Bitch.” 

Chapter Text

Andrew wants to tell the Scooby gang they didn’t know Warren like he did. That he knew a different side to him, that he had a soft underbelly. But he never does, because he knows it’s a lie. Jonathan told him in no uncertain terms he was straight and just using him for his own goals—using him as a human fleshlight as he imagined fucking some female porn star. 

But Andrew misses his warmth no matter who he was thinking about. And he wants to feel it again. He can picture whoever he wants as long as he gets to feel his skin against his one more time.

So he can be cruel again, call him a girl because he knows it’s a damn a bad insecurity. He called him ‘baby girl’ and ‘good girl’ as a term of what he thought was endearment—because he’s soft and sweet like a girl. But he came to realize it was an insult. And the reason why Warren refused to go down on him or bottom and seemed disgusted at the mere notion because Andrew was the girl. And it was readily apparent what Warren thought of women which he tried to ignore.

Not to mention all the times he got too rough or didn’t react at first to being told to stop or slow down. Andrew was just so happy to be with him he just figured that’s what Warren was like, it was his personality and the same as how some people don’t like their partner’s politics. It’s a workable flaw. 

Like the two women he killed. One of whom he was going to rape and Andrew was going to let him because he forgets how to be decent when he’s around. He discussed all this with Jonathan in Mexico, for hours they’d stay up and talk about Warren and Andrew doesn’t think he’d ever felt closer to anyone, not even Warren. 

But because Warren asked he still killed Jonathan. Because he just wants to feel Warren inside him again and leave more scratches on his back. Warren’s affection is like diamonds and Christmas and oxycodone. He feels empty without it so he makes himself busy around the Summers house. No one gives him any warmth and he accepts he deserves that but he tries anyway because he wants to find someone who makes him feel like diamonds. No one does. He just wants to feel warm from head-to-toe again in that special way only Warren could make him feel just by calling him sugar.

So Warren can treat him like a disposable toy, manipulate and abuse and kill and Andrew still wants him just as bad as he ever did. He knows how pathetic it makes him. He’d grovel just for another taste of him spilling into his mouth. 

He spends time with the woman who killed him so brutally. Knowing it was deserved, both hoping it was and wasn’t painful. Willow makes being gay and having a same sex partner look so easy. She has it all figured out with a normal respectable girlfriend while his only partner had been a straight sociopath who needs to think of buxom porn star to get off with him. It’s embarrassing. He feels like such a mess. He doesn’t know if anyone other than Jonathan knew the extent of their relationship but god he hopes not. 

Andrew thinks the heartbreak hurts more than the grief. 

Chapter Text

Warren and Andrew are slated to share Andrew’s bed. Warren and Jonathan are staying at his house and Andrew insisted the couch is too short for Warren, but of course not Jonathan. And Andrew can’t put himself out because he lied and said he has a back injury that the couch will only exacerbate. Warren is not happy about having to share Andrew’s bed, but Andrew got him to agree. He feels devious for convincing him, but it’s not like sharing his bed will hurt Warren. He can just go home if he hates it that much.

Andrew is showered and watches Warren sit on the bed and remove his watch, setting it on the bedside. He’s in a t-shirt and boxers, and Andrew feels silly blushing at his mere bare legs but he hasn’t seen Warren’s legs very much. He just recalls going to the pool with him and Jonathan and getting to see him half naked and what a good day that was. 

“If you sleep naked, that’s fine,” Andrew says, turning over the covers. He wears the same thing as Warren.

Warren makes a face. “I don’t.”

“Alright, well me neither. But I’m not really bothered by nakedness at all.”

“Glad to hear it, Andrew.” Warren pulls down the covers and slips into bed, back turned to Andrew. 

Andrew gets in bed and faces him, his head resting on his hand. “Do you wanna swap secrets?” 

“I wanna sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Then go do something else.”

Andrew’s not about to miss any time in bed with Warren. It is a tad awkward though, to have Warren in the same bed where he touches himself to thoughts of him.

“No, I’ll fall asleep,” Andrew says, moving closer to Warren. Warren doesn’t react so he moves even closer.

“Gimme some room, man.”

“Sorry.” He moves back. He wants to reach out and touch him, wrap his arm around his waist and pull him close, kiss his neck.

Andrew lifts his hand and hovers it over Warren’s shoulder, imagining touching him. He lets his arm fall back down to his side before turning off the bedside lamp.

***

Andrew awakes to a warm pressure engulfing his back unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It’s sweet and comforting. Then he realizes there’s an arm across his waist. He remembers he’s in bed with Warren. 

Warren is spooning him.

Andrew bites a smile into his lip. He looks behind him, Warren’s fast asleep. Warren’s body heat is all-consuming. He’s longed to feel his warmth, smell his subtle sweetness, feel the pressure of his touch. Andrew dares not wake him, he wants to believe he’s doing this on purpose but probably not. Or it’s subconscious? His innermost desires are taking over and making him do what he’s wanted all along.

Andrew is still sleepy but dares not shut his eyes and fall asleep again and miss this. 

Warren stirs. “Morning, baby,” he mumbles into Andrew’s ear.

Andrew grins. Baby!? He’s dreamed of him calling him baby or kitten like he does April. That robot woman makes him jealous. Andrew would be far better a partner to him than a robot. 

“Morning,” Andrew says.

“Andrew…?” He lurches back and bolts up. “Oh god, I thought you were April.”

Andrew sits up and rubs his neck. “Ew, that is like so gross, dude.”

“Ugh, god.” He rubs his forehead.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Please don’t.”

“It’ll be our little secret.”

Warren swings his legs off the bed—his wonderfully bare legs. “Don’t say it like that. That makes it even worse. Never mention it at all.”

Andrew’s front grows cold from the lack of Warren’s heat. “Of course.”

He realizes suddenly he’s a little hard. Morning wood or the body contact? Both? He hunches over just to make sure Warren can’t see it. Andrew didn’t feel that Warren was hard, unfortunately. He’s a little hurt he wasn’t hard over him. Or maybe that’s because he thought he was April and she just doesn’t churn his motor anymore. 

“Did you sleep well?” Andrew asks.

“Yeah, except when you woke me up with your kicking.”

He furrows his brow. “Kicking?”

Warren puts his watch on. “Did you not know you flail around in your sleep?”

His eyes dart. “No.”

“You were also talking about something to do with Chewbacca and an umbrella.”

Andrew is aware of the sleep talking. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, but next time I’ll do the couch even if it is too short.”

“Jonathan’s probably not as good a cuddler as you though.”

Warren sighs. “I said never mention it at all.”

“Sorry.”