Castle.

BY : Magnusxxz
Category: BtVS Crossovers > Misc - Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 1114
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor Castle. I make no money from this work of fiction.

She can’t sleep.

Even though she’s exhausted.

Even though she’s bone weary, and her eyes are scratchy, even though she took her contacts out hours ago.

She can’t sleep.

She’s exhausted but can’t sleep, it’s examines week and between living off coffee as a food group, getting only eight hours of sleep in the last four days, sleep just won’t fucking come.

She thought sleeping over would help, but Xander’s still working in his office and the blinking digital clock says its 1:28 in the morning, and Alexis is so goddamn tired right now, all she wants in the world is to be unconscious.

Knowing she won’t be able to sleep till he comes to bed, she takes a cursory look in the mirror on the closet door, blue eyes rimmed with bone weary red, a thin white t-shirt with matching white panties and ankle socks with trim around the top, and heads to his office.

The only light on is his desk lamp, and she follows the glow down the hall. Once there, she leans against the doorframe and watches him.

His focus is entirely on the photos in front of him, headshots, full body stills, mentally picturing each candidate and superimposing them over one of the works of art he owns. His dark eyebrows are arched, intent on his work and she clenches, knowing just how it feels to be the sole focus of his gaze.

But his dark hair is only dark, and his white skin is shadowed, Xander’s still wearing his glamor. Even in his own home, seemingly all alone, he still hides behind false faces.

If she wasn’t so bone achingly done with everything, she’d ponder that for hours.

Instead, she makes her way across his office, past his rows and rows of books, leans her head on his shoulder, reaches up the bottom of his own plain t-shirt and rests her right hand across his flat abs.

Humming to herself, she’d very much like to lick those abs right about now.

“You should be sleeping, baby.” He whispers, having always treated his inner sanctum like a library, he often doesn’t raise his voice above a low rumble.

But he does break his focus on the photos long enough to turn his head and plant a soft kiss across her temple. And she closes her eyes in response, and some of the wariness leaves her already.

And she knows her father has a problem with their age difference.

Knows that if her father had even an inkling of half of what they got up to, a problem would be putting his feelings mildly.

But when Xander kisses her so softly, whispers to her so quietly but already puts a finger on the issue without her even having voiced it, her father isn’t what occupies her mind.

Even now, hand trailing up and down his flat stomach, the heat of him radiating up into her tired bones, all she can feel is the love & affection she has for him.

For her daddy.

“Our bed is too empty without you, daddy. It’s time to rest.” She mummers, chin on his shoulder, her chest pressed against his back, holding him tightly.

She can feel the tension in his shoulders now, the slow inhale of breath through his nose, he lets the photo in his hand drop, before he starts drumming the tips of his fingers across these nameless people’s faces.

Capturing her left wrist, he brings up the imprisoned limb that had been resting across his side, turns it palm up and plants a delicate kiss across her lifeline. His lips linger there, tasting her skin.

And it was just a careless gesture, but she can feel the weight of his intentions, knows that he doesn’t make careless gestures, that everything he does has meaning. And her stomach is tightening in anticipation.

“I’ll be there presently, baby, let me finish this up first.” Xander’s voice is low, and smooth, and innocent, but fuck he’s going to play with her first.

She huffs, petulant and needy, and she knows that she sounds like a brat, a child, and if she’d had eight hours of sleep her behavior would make her cross because it just gives more credence to the way her father dismisses her feelings because she’s not really an adult.

And her daddy knows, knows her better than anyone else has in her whole life, she feels. But he still finds the need to play with her.

“Just hold on for a little while longer, baby, I’ll be there soon enough.” He says, and Alexis just huffs against his ear.

And then he’s chuckling, laughing at her pouty behavior, and she’s furious and still so fucking tired. And all she wants is to punch him, bruise her fists against his hard muscles, throw a tantrum that would underline everything her father has said within earshot to her grams, and all she wants is for him to bend her over his desk, press her faces into those photos of all those pretty strangers and fuck her till she passes out.

But before she can take either course of action, knowing the first would probably lead to the second, he’s turning around in his chair and getting a good look at her. And she inches forward till she’s standing between his open thighs.

And the glamor has failed on his eyes, or maybe she made it fail, and his eyes are dark, two rings of different flavors of brown with a circle of gold burning molten within his heavy gaze. And he sees her, the thin nearly transparent white t-shirt that hides nothing from him least of all her budding peaks of arousal, the dainty panties and her peaches & cream thighs, legs parted inappropriately, and those tiny socks with the frills she had to buy in the junior’s section of the mall.

She can feel the heat across her cheeks, because she knows what she looks like, knows exactly what her intentions were. Because she couldn’t have painted a more virginal picture of wanton jailbait then the one she’s presenting.

“Oh my,” and how the hell can he sound so damn condescending and still turn her on just with those two little words? It’s ridiculous and she’s a slave to her hormones but God the look in his eyes.

“You look like a virgin sacrifice.” His voice is low, and rumbling, and exactly what she intended.

She might be bone tired, but her red hair is shiny and bouncy, her lips are pink from simple gloss, her fair skin is so light that she could damn near get burned just from moonlight. But she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“But daddy,” she whines out, “you know I’m not a virgin anymore.” If there was a category at the Oscars for slutty little fuck me voices, she’d fill up her trophy cabinet with those instead of all her equestrian ribbons.

“Yes baby, I know intimately.” Xander groans, grabbing her wrists and pulling her into his lap, so that her legs are spread and dangling on either side of his own.

She can feel him beneath her, already half-mast in his boxers, and she could rip those damn things to pieces. They are alone in his apartment, and he should feel free to walk around like God intended. And he shouldn’t hide that big fucking dick from her.

He knows exactly how turned on she is, if dressing up like a Lolita porn star didn’t do it, the puddle she’s leaving in his lap should be all the proof required.

And if she moves just right, she can maneuver herself across that piece of man meat, grind her needy pussy against the length of him, already she’s gasping and breathless. She’s been good for so long, her whole life, good grades, best behavior, if he stays still she won’t even need to put it inside.

Just grind her needy pussy against him till she comes. Then hopefully she’ll be able to sleep.

If he doesn’t finish with her that’s fine, just tuck her into bed like a good daddy, he could pound her into the mattress for all she cares. Maybe she’d even come again, oh please, oh please, oh please.

His lips are against hers now, his tongue sliding across her lips asking for entrance so politely, and she grants it, any part of him that wants inside her is always welcome. Xander’s hands have released her wrists, they are now resting against her hips, setting the pace as she rubs herself across his lap so freely.

Her own hands are on his shoulders, she so rarely gets to ride him, her light blue eyes are locked with his as she chases her bliss.

“Oh please, oh please, daddy please,” she’s crying out now, begging, her panties are drenched and there’s nothing half-mast about the cock she’s pressing against her opening.

“Shh baby, I’m still working.” He says as he gradually slows her pace, she’s still begging in frustration as he stops her relentless sprint towards finishing, and she all but collapses against his chest. “Just wait a little while longer, baby, I’m still working.” And he’s still playing with her, the bastard.

And now he’s spinning them around so that he can once again look at the photos across his desk, and she’s so pent up she could fucking die, and she has school tomorrow, and they have a dinner with her father & grams, and she would let him do anything anything to her right now but he’s flipping through headshots. The motherfucking clit tease.

So she rests her head on his shoulder, presses herself as close to him as she can, her nipples are like diamonds, swivels her hips around in the world’s most frustrating and backwards ass lap dance because it’s her who needs to get off.

She’s been so good all her life, why is her daddy picking on her?

“You have to sit still baby, if you can’t sit still, I’ll send you to bed.” He breaths into her ear, but the bastard sucks on her earlobe momentarily and why is her daddy so mean to her?

She knows her panties are soaked, probably all but transparent, and she can feel his fully engorged cock beneath her, resting between her lips, and if he’d just let her move she knows she could come.

She knows it.

And she can hear him muttering to himself as he flips through the head shots, pretty girls and pretty boys, which model would be best for which painting. Would the upper eastside it girl be the perfect Venus? Or should he do another of the virgin Madonna?

And he can’t be thinking about the Virgin Fucking Mary after she tried to hump herself in his lap like a bitch in heat. Cruel, her daddy is so cruel to her.

And all the while he’s still right there, his hard chest against her soft curves, his flat abs, if she’s still, and she’s so damn still, she can feel his hard cock pulse beneath her. And she’ll never let him go to his office late at night in boxers ever again, she could be riding him right now, that big piece of meat buried deep in her.

He wouldn’t be teasing her so cruelly if she’d sunk him balls deep when she first sat in his lap.

She can here the clock on Xander’s desk tick tick, and it’s so late, and she’s still so sleepy and now she just wants to fuck on top of that.

“Daddy, how much longer?” She mummers into his shoulder, her lips kissing his flesh, nibbling towards his pulse point.

And it seems like he’s going to ignore her question, she can hear the 8 x 10s flipping through his hands behind her back, but before she can ask again he’s reached down between their bodies and ran his thumb across her clit.

She gasps, and he does it again, harder, more intent, and she’d be embarrassed at the mess she’s made of her panties, but some other time.

The noises escaping from her throat are pitiful little whines, and his left hand is now resting on the small of her back as his right digits masturbate her.

Daddy, you said I had to wait.” It’s meant to sound like a rebuke for his teasing, but not even meaning to she can see another Oscar in her future.

“Oh? I’m sorry baby.” But the bastard isn’t apologizing for that, because he’s stopped all together.

Why!” Tears of need and frustration are running down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry baby, I thought you wanted me to stop.” She could kill him, she could tie him down and ride him, she could grind herself against the leg of his desk until she finally comes. “Don’t be pouty, baby. I’m almost done.”

So he’s once against flipping through photos, and she’s sucking & biting on his shoulder, and she knows he’ll have eight perfect crescent shaped cuts across his shoulder blades tomorrow morning from her death grip.

The sounds of his work slowly rocks her into a simi sleepless haze.

Her eyes are so heavy, her lids long since closed of there on power, and her head is resting against his shoulder like she would when she was little and her real father would carry her.

She’s tuckered out, she’s pooped.

Her daddy’s hand is beneath her shirt, rubbing circles across her back. She can feel her tired muscles relax beneath his warm palm, the pads of his fingers drawing circles against her skin.

She has no idea how long she drifted in that in-between place, neither awake nor asleep, but the light touch of his lips against her temple brings her up from that almost slumber.

“Did I wake you, sweetheart?” Xander asks and she’s pouting, her eyes still shut, “my sleepy little sweety.”

She’s grumpy, and whiny, and when her eyes finally open in a glare he only chuckles at her mood, she could have slept right there cradled in his arms. Even when he’s being kind, her daddy is still so mean to her.

“I’m finally done,” he says, but she knows he isn’t talking about his work. That was just a ruse to torment her, “are you ready for bed, baby?” She’s been ready for hours, years, her whole life.

Oh, oh, she’s licking his pulse point again, laying delicate kissing against his skin while his hands are clutching her waist in a tight grip and dragging her across his lay.

Alexis’s jaw clenches, the pace is being set completely by him now, even as she tries to roll her aching pussy against him, he’s holding her in place with his strong hands and manhandling her across the length of his cock. She’s little more than a masturbation tool at this moment.

She’s huffing against his neck, clutching at his shoulders for stability but he likes her off kilter, whenever she thinks she has a handle on what’s happen he’ll change things up just to keep her guessing.

“Whiny little baby, but you were so good to wait on your daddy.” He’s released his death grip on her waist, hands grasping at her red mane and making her look at him. “You are so beautiful, baby. My sweet girl.”

Daddy,” she whines, begs, unable to voice her need though it has to be completely clear at this point. All she can do is try and grind against him.

“It’s okay, baby. You’ve been so good for me,” he rumbles, his left hand fisting her red locks while his right reaches up beneath her plan tshirt and cups her breast. His grip only increases till she cries out in protest, wanton, but knowing that she’ll have finger shaped bruises tomorrow morning.

Fuck, if he doesn’t stop tormenting her, she’s going to have to safe word out. And how embarrassing would that be? She once had to call off for class because her ass was so bruised, all she could do was lay on her stomach. But her exhaustion is working against her, and he’d never let her hear the end of it if she safe worded out over being teased.

“You deserve a reward for all your hard work,” he tells her, between kneading her breast and licking a long line up her neck till he presses a heated his across her own mouth.

Yes please, a reward, please daddy, she wants to say, to keen out those words, but he’s already moving. Boldly picking her up wear he’s gripped her, pulling her hair back till she’s forced to look up at the ceiling, and fuck her breast is going to be black & blue tomorrow.

But he’s sitting her on his desk and leaning back, looking at her wild red hair, her eyes she knows is wide and wild, places on her body already marked by him hidden only by flimsy cloth. “My baby is so pretty.”

He’s on his knees now, her thighs wide open where she sits, those pretty white panties pulled to the side as he devours her.

She can feel his long licks, teasing, his thumb working against her clit, it’s everything she’d hoped for, everything she’d been begging for. Oh please, oh please, oh please.

His free hand reaches up to her poor abused breast, palm wide and fingers clawed into her chest. The pain makes the pleasure so much sweeter, but it also pushes her back from the edge, from her reaching that peak. For all the time he’s spent training her, she still can’t come while the pain is so sharp and close.

And he knows it, knows everything about the way her body reacts, taught her body how to react.

Alexis cries out, head thrown back and only keeping herself from falling backwards in a heap is the grip she has on Xander’s dark hair. Oh please, oh please, oh please.

Her cheeks are flushed, and the sound escaping her mouth is half animal at best, but he’s sucking on her clit while three fingers penetrate her in rapid succession, and it would be everything she needs if not for the nipple he’s twisting till her voice is all animal whines and bitch in heat.

“Please, oh please, fucking please daddy! Let me come, let me come!” And finally he releases her aching breast, uses his free hand to widen her legs, and he’s humming into her now, curling his fingers up, and it’s so fucking perfect, its everything she ever wanted.

Stars burst behind her eyes, Alexis falls backwards till she’s half hanging over the edge of his desk, only being kept in place by his hands and his face still buried between her legs.

She’s gasping for breath, unaware if she’s lightheaded from the orgasm or because her heads hanging over the edge of his desk and the world is now upside down from her viewpoint.

He’s trailing kisses across her belly now, lingering on her poor black & blue breast to lick and suck at her nipple, the bastard, across the hollow of her throat, and fuck his lips are on hers and she can taste herself even as he continues to tease her clit with his free hand.

“You did so good, baby,” he reassures her, “you’re always so good for your daddy.”

And mother fucker, she hasn’t even gotten control of her breathing yet and he’s already forced another orgasm from her. She’s groaning into his mouth while her pussy is clenched around his fingers, and he knows. He trained her to come, knew that she can’t hear him tell her how good she is like that without making her body react.

Her daddy has made her into the perfect baby.

And they haven’t even dealt with that monster in his boxers, it lays heavy across her belly where he leans on her. “Daddy, what about you?”

He chuckles, “what about me, baby?” Pretends he doesn’t understand her, but still bucks against her body till she grunts.

“Daddy!” They aren’t done, he’s not done, she knows that he won’t let her go to bed till he’s had his fill.

“You have to use your words, my whiny sweety.” He’s laughing at her, even has his steel had erection most be causing him pain at this point.

She can’t reach him, her limbs still haven’t come back under her control. So he makes her say it, “daddy, you need to finish.”

Alexis finally pulls herself up, leans on her elbows at him, “your cock, daddy. Use your cock on me.” Now that gets a reaction, he groans and pulls himself free of his boxers.

“You are so beautiful, baby,” he grunts at her, left hand once against gripping her ruby red hair as his right fists his cock.

She whines, unable to hold him in this position, unable to use her on hands on him, and as he’s not wearing a condom and she’s sadly behind on her birth control, he won’t even enter her.

All she can do is gasp and wriggle beneath him, eyes drinking him in as he jerks himself atop of her, using the wetness between her legs still glistening in his hand as lube.

“That’s it daddy, that’s it. That’s what I’m here for.” Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and if he’d been a weaker man she knows he’d have fucked her with that cock of his by now.

But her daddy isn’t a weak man, he’d never put her into a position where she needed the morning after pill on her way to school.

And wouldn’t that be the dinner conversation tonight, if she showed up with an upset stomach but couldn’t tell her father or grams why it hurt.

He’s groaning, bucking against his fist, eyes huge and glowing with his need for her. She’s never felt more beautiful, more wanted. “Use me daddy, paint your little girl.”

Five, six, seven, fuck eight, he shoots steam after stream of his hot come across her belly, between her breasts, she even feels one trickle down her chin. His own exhaustion forces him to collapse, his body heavy and spent against her own.

No boxers in the office, and a drawer fill of condoms next time, a third orgasm with him pumping into her would have been the cherry on the cake.

“I love you so much,” she confesses. Not that it’s any secret.

“I love you too,” he says, still breathing heavily and pinning her into place.

“Now it’s really time for bed,” Alexis says with a yawn, eyes drooping and head full of soft cotton.

Scooping her up into his arms, he carries her to their bed. Her head rests against his shoulder, she needs a shower but doesn’t have the energy to protest. Besides, it’s not the first time she’s slept covered in his seed.

He tucks her in on the right side of the bed, pulls the covers up to her chin, and kisses her temple as she slowly drifts. All thoughts of tests and overbearing if well meaning parents vanish into the ether.

She thinks he confesses his love once again, and she mumbles a reply, not sure what she actually says but it makes him chuckle.

“Just sleep, Alexis. You’ve had a long day.”

Good night.



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