"I wish to experience orgasm."
Spike couldn't make himself move for almost a full minute as he processed that particular demand from this particular being. It wasn't like he could stop her if she decided to take the job on herself, using him as some kind of undead sex toy...
An activity that actually sounded pretty damn good, come to think of it. The fact was he didn't particularly want to resist. That kind of thing could come later, when she understood things a little better. Another dull day wandering the halls of Wolfram & Hart looked like it was about to take a turn to the interesting for both of them. He'd just decided to wander down to Angel's office and annoy him for a while. But this was so much better.
He turned slowly the way he always did around Illyria, like he was carefully making his way around a very dangerous animal. There she was, the King herself, creepy-sexy ice blue eyes, body armor and all, stomping down the hall like she was still fifty feet tall and built like a gargoyle on steroids. Or at least, that was how he'd always dreamed she looked in her heyday. God, it had to be so wrong how hot he got whenever he was around her. She wasn't human -- wasn't any species the Earth had seen in millions of years. She had killed Fred, who he cared about, and stole her body. The reasons for not even entertaining her command piled up every second he thought about it further.
So he shut down his logical brain, stuffed a wad of cotton in the mouth of his conscience, and gave her the Patented Spike Panty-Melting Grin(tm).
"Now where did you pick that word up from, Smurfette?"
She gave him the same sort of half-disdainful, half-interested look she always gave everyone. "I have been watching the television in Angel's apartment. His video collection is quite concerned with achieving one in a number of different ways, with many partners, and in many positions. I wish to experience these with a male of your species."
"Me? Well, of course, me."
"You are a long-lived creature, and thus, are more apt to have the necessary experience to undertake the procedure. You also show attraction toward me and little hesitation to pursue decadent activity when the opportunity presents itself for you to do so." She took a step toward him. "And, as a vampire, I do not believe I could break you as easily as a human."
"Heh." He automatically took a step away. "Look, the stuff in those videos..." The light went on in his imagination. "Just how many videos were there, exactly?"
"Irrelevant." She took back the space Spike had just put between them, and stole the rest of it while she was at it. "Do you require kissing?'
Spike froze again as she got in his face, utterly and completely at a loss for what to do. "Uh... no..."
Before the "o" even formed, Illyria had torn open the fly of his jeans and grabbed his Johnson, right there in front of the W&H security system and everybody walking up and down the hall.
"Er..." he objected lamely.
"It was my impression that public performance was considered arousing," she said, stroking Spike's cock with surprising skill. He was already hard as a fucking board. "According to the videos."
"Uh..." he sort-of groaned. "No, hold on! Here." He very carefully removed her hand from what was left of his pants, and used it to tow her into a nearby supply closet. No cameras in there. Porn could come later too. He shut the door behind him and put the hand back. "First time. Privacy."
Illyria did her creepy impression of a shrug, and for a split second, he wondered if she spent time in front of mirrors practicing human gestures, or if they just sort of-- oh, dear fucking LORD! She took hold of his cock again, and began a bruising rhythm that might have dropped a human to his knees, but he found it kind of... well, really bloody sexy, is what, but he didn't think Little Will could take that grip for very long before the lack of circulation made him fall off.
"Uh, Illyria. That's... great. But you need to lay off a bit on the grip, see?" He reached down and pried her fingers apart a little. She let him. He was the teacher after all, and -- oh fucking hell. The new grip was perfect, and the rhythm was better than he could achieve himself. Amazing she could get it just right her first time out. Must have been a lot of fucking videos up there in the grand-wanker's apartment. Her technique was bloody spectacular. She stroked hard and fast with one hand, pausing every now and again to circle and tease around the edges of the head of his cock, while the other busily rolled his balls in her slender fingers--with surprising care, thank the sex gods. He was helpless to do anything but gasp and thrust himself into her grip.
Until she whispered in his ear, soft, inflection so human, so much like Fred. "Your cock is so big, Spike. It feels so good in my hand. I want you to come so bad. Come, baby, come for me."
So, with a sort of snarl-yelp noise, he did just that, slamming his head against the wall of the closet behind him even as he jerked and spasmed in her hands.
He was blinded, deafened and crippled by the ecstasy for a minute, but when he came to, he was sort of surprised to see that she was wiping her hands on a rag and just sort of observing him, like they were finished with her experiment.
"I do not understand the attraction of this activity," she announcing, tossing away the rag. "Now I am filled with more tension, when the videos implied there should be less. I also require a cigarette."
Spike grinned, though he was fairly certain it looked a lot more like a leer. Yeah, okay, so she wasn't so good with the bedside manner bit of the equation, but who was he to look spilt milk in the mouth or whatever? He pressed closer, taking another rag to wipe himself as he whispered in her ear.
"We're not done yet, love."
He pulled away to look in her face, and could have sworn she made an expression that was some approximation of confusion. "I do not desire coupling at this time."
He ran a fingertip along her jaw -- the first time he'd ever touched her. And, he realized, that was the first time she had ever touched him when she wasn't beating the ever-loving shit out of him. She shivered, then sort of flinched, as if she hadn't been expecting the gentle caress. Well, if she'd been watching Angel's porn, she probably didn't know about the subtleties of lovemaking.
"What those movies don't show you, Illyria, is that the woman gets to enjoy more things than just being licked and porked."
She did that creepy head-canting thing she always did when she was thinking. "I see. Perhaps there are other videos I can view."
"Forget the videos, pet. They're just for guys to stroke off to. Don't care much about the women involved. But me, on the other hand..." He let the fingertip that had been tracing her jaw caress downward, under her chin to the very edges of her turtle-shell armored skin. "You need to get this out of the way, though." He tapped it, and it made the same dull noise it always did when he threw something at her and it just bounced right off.
"Do you wish me to look like Fred?"
"NO! No, I mean... I want you to look like you." Shit, it was a good thing he'd already had his fun, because his pecker didn't like this turn in the conversation one bit. "I want to see what you've got under this get up. Blue scales and all."
"I do not have scales. My manifestation in this realm is fully human, including standard skin quality, which is preserved by my armor. The color is simply a matter of pigmentation."
He leaned in to lick along the blue shell of her ear. "Yeah, yeah. Get rid of it."
It was gone, just like that, and he was left looking at what was, by far, the most interesting and unusual body he'd ever seen, human or otherwise. It was human, all right, but just like her face, it was lined and edged with that funky blue pattern along her sides, the edges of her arms and legs. Into the hollow of her pelvic bone, like it was pointing the way to the strangely hot blue-tinged brown pubic hair.
"Jesus bloody..." he whispered, and reached out automatically to touch it. He tried not to notice that Illyria was looking at him as though he was a bug under her microscope. Although... did they put bugs under microscopes?
The hair felt like... hair. The rest of the outer trappings of her genitalia felt pretty standard issue too, soft and warm, growing warmer by the second. He knew she didn't require food, water, or bathroom privileges, so he had no idea if arousal would work the same way. Would Fred's body remember? Would sex even work at all with her? Was she self-regulating her own body based on some physical memory?
Why the fuck was he asking so many stupid questions?
He cupped her mons in his palm, pressing his fingers against the hot, spongy-soft flesh of her outer lips, sinking into the humid heat until he touched her surprisingly hard clit. She hissed, her body going rigid against him, hips thrusting into his touch seemingly of their own accord.
"Good, isn't it?" he purred into her ear, circling her nub with a careful fingertip. A shudder took her body from head to toe,
"It... it is... pleasant," she panted, spreading her legs more and letting her weight rest against the wall behind her as Spike slipped two fingers into her heat, brought them out hot and wet to caress her clit, then repeated the process over and over again in slow, careful, agonizing circles. Illyria's breath grew frantic, little unconscious sounds breaking from her throat that sounded nothing less than human. That he was bringing that out of her made him hotter than anything that had happened in this closet yet. Damn, she was sexy in a scary, weird way.
"That's right, Illyria. Let go. Come for me."
Her cries echoed around the confines of their closet, her lithe body riding his stroking hand like a damn sex pony, and when she came...
God, it was hot. She grabbed him by the shoulders, dragged him in for a tongue kiss so deep he nearly choked, but instead moaned as he swallowed her screams. And caught her when she went completely limp in his arms.
"Oh. Oh. Oh," she puffed. "That... that was... very satisfying."
Spike grinned. "Blue, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Why don't we go back to my place, and I'll show you stuff they don't even put in those movies."
Illyria stepped away from him, her armor sliding into place once more. Her expression hadn't really changed, he didn't think, but... still there seemed to be something new, something warmer in the arctic blue of her eyes.
"I will not regret choosing you to participate with me in this activity," she declared as she pushed open the door and stepped into the hall, "We will go to your home and practice sex."
Spike jury rigged his fly shut and followed, the same grin still plastered on his face. He suspected he'd be wearing it for a good, long while.