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Illyria and the Magic Potion (R)
By spikeNdru
Written for kantayra, completed July 25, 2004
kantayra's Requirements:
Up to Two Characters in addition to Illyria: Spike and/or Harmony. Romantic or no, I care not.
Up to Two Requirements: Illyria kicking the ass out of something the other characters can’t, humorous banter.
One Restriction: No Wesley of any sort
Many, many thanks to makd for the superb and speedy beta!
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Spike and Illyria were in the training room.
Again.
Training.
For what? The sexual Olympics?
Harmony tapped her nails on the desk. They made a nice clickety-click sound. Cool. She paused to admire her nails. Her parents had sprung for a full manicure for graduation—complete with perfect, acrylic nails, and when she was sired, they had somehow turned into her own nails. She may not have a reflection any longer, but she had eternally perfect nails. Okay, not a totally bad trade-off.
What did they do in the training room day after day? Grappling around, getting all hot and sweaty. . .
Okay, Spike didn’t really sweat, and she’d bet the Ice Princess didn’t either, but still. . .
She could tell Spike was attracted to Illyria. What was the matter with him anyway? Why did he keep falling for tough, dangerous, seriously freaky Superwomen like that nutcase Drudzilla and the Slayer? Read my lips: Slay—er. She who kills vampires as, like, her mission in life or something? And now the Ice Queen. Talk about scary!
What was wrong with a nice, normal vampire? She had the ‘forever 18’ look going for her, and the great hair and perfect nails. She dressed well, was personable, pleasant and had all the requisite vampire sexual stamina—why wasn’t that enough for him? Why did he always have to be so mean to her? She could have made him happy, if he’d let her.
Oh, wonderful! Here comes the Blue Bomber, now! And without Spike. Maybe this was her chance. . .
“Um, Illyria?” Harmony called, making little hand flapping motions that any normal person would have interpreted as come over here for a minute, while at the same time had the added benefit of showing off her perfect nails with their current gloss of shell pink.
Illyria stopped and swiveled to face Harmony, tilting her head.
Harmony beckoned again.
Illyria continued to stand motionless, head tilted, staring at the fluffy half-breed who was obviously in some distress as her hand had developed a life of its own. Perhaps the half-breed was requesting her assistance to subjugate the offending appendage? Illyria stalked over to the desk and slapped Harmony’s hand down flat on its surface.
“Oww! Wha’d’ya do that for?”
“You did not require my assistance in subduing the tremors in your digits?”
“Um. . . I just wanted you to com’ere for a sec, and now you did, so can I please have my hand back, cause I’m starting to lose all feeling in it, and would you like to go get a cup of coffee?”
Illyria stared. “You are inviting me to join you in partaking of the hot, bitter, caffeinated beverage that pond scum frequently finds both pleasurable and addicting?”
Harmony was lost about seven words in, but happily seized on the one word she figured she could use to convince Illyria.
“It’s not bitter if you add lots of cream and sugar!”
Her numb left hand dangling at her side, Harmony moved around her desk and started for the elevator.
“Come on! Coffee and girl talk! You’ll love it.” She smiled brightly and hoped she knew what the heck she was doing.
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Illyria cocked her head and contemplated the steaming cup of the low-fat-half-caf-extra-foam-cinnamon-hazlenut-cappuccino-grande with dark chocolate shavings placed before her. She sniffed the scent. It was pleasant. She decided she desired to experience this interesting beverage, picked up the cup and drained it. That was. . . pleasurable. Perhaps she would allow this female half-breed’s existence to continue.
“Wow! You must’ve really liked that!” Harmony leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I told you it wasn’t bitter with the cream and sugar.”
“It was acceptable. I would like another.”
“Okay, I’ll get you another one, but then we’re gonna have some girl talk,” Harmony negotiated.
“What is this ‘girl talk’ of which you speak?”
“Well, we’re both girls and we sit around, having coffee and dish the dirt on the guys we think are cute,” Harmony explained.
Illyria tilted her head and her ice blue eyes went blank as she attempted to translate Harmony’s thought processes.
“Your proposition contains errors and incomprehensible vocabulary.”
“Huh?”
“You are in error when you describe us as ‘girls’. We are not ‘girls’. You are a female half-breed, barely one step removed from the primordial ooze. I am Illyria.”
“Female!” Harmony seized on the word she could use to prove her point. “We’re both female, and that means we’re girls.”
“I am Illyria. I have no gender. I am a god. My eternal essence has been trapped at this time in a female shell. That does not make me a ‘girl’. You are correct in your assertion that we are partaking of the caffeinated beverage but I do not understand this ‘dish the dirt’.”
Harmony was becoming desperate. This was so not going as she had planned! All I wanted was to find out how Illyria felt about Spike, but this is really hard and I’m not totally sure she’s speaking English!
“Spike! How do you feel about Spike?”
Illyria sat motionless, searching the vocabulary of the shell for the precise word to describe her feelings.
“Aggravated,” she replied.
She had answered the question, but the half-breed was obviously waiting for more.
“Spike is stubborn and reckless,” she elaborated. “He refuses to remain on the floor when I have beaten him. He uses many words that are incomprehensible to me. He does not accept the limits of his power. He adapts.”
“Yeah, he’s all that, but do you, um, think he’s hot?”
“No.”
Harmony breathed a sigh of relief.
“He is not hot. He is a half-breed. His physiology takes on the thermal ambience.”
“Huh?”
“His body is room temperature.”
“Well, sure, but do you think he’s attractive?”
“He has artificially white hair that directs attention to his blue eyes. His movements are lithe and controlled. His body is firm, muscled and well-maintained. He projects the attitude of a predator.” Illyria paused, and then continued with surprise evident in her voice. “Yes. I find him attractive.”
“I knew it! I just knew there was more than ‘training’ going on!”
“I shall keep Spike as my pet.”
“Just remember, he was my Platinum Baby long before your ‘pet’.”
She flounced from the room, leaving Illyria staring after her in puzzlement.
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“The female half-breed is jealous.”
Illyria’s right hook caught Spike in the chin and he went down, immediately scrambling to his feet.
“Wha’d’ya mean, pet? Jealous of what?”
He feinted with his left, landing a solid right into her solar plexus, knocking her back several feet.
“She appears to have a proprietary interest in you. She has informed me that you were her ‘Platinum Baby’.”
Illyria spun and her right foot kicked him half-way across the room.
“Yeah, well, we used to have a . . . thing, but it was never—what brought this up anyway?”
Duster flying, he whirled and leaped, both feet landing in her abdomen. She went down, but recovered immediately.
“The pink one who appeases visitors to the wolf, ram and hart wished me to join her for ‘coffee and girl talk’. We discussed your physical attributes while participating in an exercise entitled ‘dishing the dirt’.”
She dropped to a crouch and extended her left leg, sweeping his feet out from under him.
Spike lay where he had landed, mouth dropping open in shock. He propped himself up on both elbows and stared at her. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.
“You and Harm. . .” he gasped. “Coffee. . . girl talk. . .” Spike went into a paroxysm of laughter, clutching his sides.
Illyria squatted beside him, butt resting on her heels, tilted her head and stared at him with interest. The half-breed appeared to be having a seizure of some sort, emitting snorts and barks. She had not previously observed this phenomenon.
Harmony an’ Illyria dishin’ the dirt, he thought, with something that sounded very like a giggle. I’d’ve paid money to see that!
“An’ what conclusions did you two ‘girls’ come to, then?” he asked when he could manage to talk.
“The half-breed feels lust for you. She wishes to resume the sexual relationship you previously shared. She is threatened by my interest in you and attempted to ‘assess the competition’.”
“You’re. . . interested in me?” Spike tilted his head to the left and raised one eyebrow.
Illyria cocked her head to the right and stared back at him. “Yes. I have discovered that I am. It is disconcerting.”
Spike’s left hand closed around the back of her neck and he pulled her head down, eyes locked on hers. He lightly brushed his lips across hers and then traced the silvery blue curves with his tongue. She didn’t seem to object, so he deepened the kiss, parting her lips and gently exploring the inside of her mouth with his tongue.
“Works out well then, pet, as I seem to be interested in you, too.” He grinned.
Illyria felt the corners of her mouth twitch faintly in response. That was also disconcerting.
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Illyria stood alone in the lab. Spike was resting. She tilted her head and replayed the events of the afternoon in her mind.
Spike had grabbed her hand and hustled her out of the training room, and then, looking around to be sure they were unobserved, slipped into an elevator, taking it all the way up to Angel’s suite.
With a wicked grin and twinkling eyes, he had informed her that, “No one’ll think to look for us here, pet.”
Secreted in Angel’s bedroom, he had proceeded to show her some of the things human bodies could do. She no longer wondered why the humans were as plentiful as maggots and had taken over the planet. Spike had explained they performed these actions to engage in pleasurable contact as well as to procreate.
At his assurance that it was necessary to fully participate in the actions she was desirous of experiencing, she had dissolved her leather armor.
Following a second ritual exchange of saliva, which seemed to be a prerequisite to further exploration, they had engaged in sexual congress. Illyria closed her eyes in an attempt to process the sensations.
His lips pressed light kisses down her throat to her collarbone, tongue dipping into the hollow there. His hands slid up and down her back, gently kneading the taut muscles. His mouth returned to hers, plundering it with his tongue, while his hands massaged her upper back and shoulders. She had begun to experience a pleasurable sense of relaxation. As the strength left her legs, he slid one arm under her knees, lifting and carrying her to Angel’s huge bed.
His lips traced the shell-like curves of her ear and nipped at the lobe. She experienced an unaccustomed heat rising in her body, as his hand cupped her breast. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple and she felt it physiologically change and harden.
His mouth trailed down the side of her neck until his lips captured her other nipple, laving it with his tongue. She then became aware of a heated urgency emanating from the area of her lower abdomen. Spike appeared to also be cognizant of the emanations, because his tongue followed the blue shading from her breastbone down to her naval, nipping and sucking at the flesh there, sending electric shocks throughout this body.
He had nudged her knees apart, leaving a trail of fiery kisses on her inner thighs, finally reaching the source of this urgent want she felt. His tongue parted her dark blue folds, much as he had done to her lips, and then. . . she had exploded within.
Her atoms and molecules had seemed to totally rearrange themselves and she had lost all sense of control. She had lost touch with the shell and appeared to be floating above it. She considered the possibility that she would simply dissipate and exist no longer. She had not expected this. She had enjoyed experiencing the pleasurable sensations, but she did not understand or approve of this loss of control.
The half-breed had done something to her to attempt to strip her of her powers, and he had nearly succeeded! She had leapt from the bed and found herself here in the lab.
Illyria tilted her head and considered. This half-breed had managed to discover a way to subjugate a god! To make her scream for him. It was Illyria who made the lesser beings scream. He was her pet. He would bow down to her and scream Illyria’s name. And then she would allow him to pleasure her again.
Illyria considered the source of the power he had used to control the unconquerable Illyria. There was only one possible answer. She would obtain this magic potion and her pet would be under her control.
Illyria threw out her arm and opened a time portal to the Starbucks on the corner. It was dark and quiet, attempting to lull her suspicions—to convince her it was harmless. Illyria could not be fooled so easily! She knew that somewhere here was the low-fat-half-caf-extra-foam-cinnamon-hazlenut-cappuccino-grande with dark chocolate shavings that would turn Spike into her slave. She would not be thwarted in her quest for this magic beverage. So, she proceeded to systematically annihilate every. . . single. . . machine in the place.
The End
Hope the total destruction of the local Starbucks meets your request for Illyria kicking the ass out of something the other characters can’t! ~spikeNdru
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