I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. Mr. Wonka seems to be in a pretty good mood this morning. I wonder why? – Stealth Phoenix
Warning: Adult content ahead. If matters of adult sexual behavior bother you, move on. You have been warned!
Chapter 34
He dreamed.
The jungle steamed around him, the humid weight pressing against him like a physical force. His lungs ached with the effort of drawing in the water–laden air.
He moved through the brush easily, his body moving aside the clinging branches and thorns without thought. His eyes scanned the dense foliage searching for movement. His body felt strong and fluid as it carried him on easy strides across the deep loam of the forest floor. He was searching for something, something just as primal and essential as food, water air and shelter.
The breeze lifted for a moment, bringing new information on the air. He closed his eyes and sniffed deeply, sorting through the complicated scent – leaf mold, sea air, fresh water nearby and…
…her.
Eyes flashing open, he followed the trail – leaping over fallen logs, agile feet negotiating the root twisted trail through the undergrowth. His bare skin glistened with sweat with his efforts – running swiftly before the wind shifted and took her away from him again.
He came to the small river that leapt and played about the tumbled rocks – water running cold and swift. He saw her then, kneeling over a still pool, rinsing her nude body with the water cleaning away the accumulated salt from swimming in the ocean.
Her dark rich hair was tumbled around her damply, the breeze playing lightly with the drying tendrils. The trickles of water traced her curves, from the strong slender shoulders, down her pale arms and following the course across her torso to the dark curls at her apex and lightly tickling the long line of her strong thighs to return to the pool happier for the experience.
He crouched in the shadows of the leaves, watching his mate bathe. He could smell her from here, fresh from her exertion and the low-level arousal that surrounded her. He could see her leaf-bright eyes scanning the undergrowth lazily, awaiting his return. She slowly trickled the cool water over her breasts, nipples puckering as she traced their lines, waiting.
He moved silently, circling around to approach her from behind, his eyes greedily taking in the smooth flanks and creamy skin of her buttocks and the play of slight muscles in her back as she bathed. When she knelt to dip her long hair in the pool, he moved.
Swift bare feet moved silently over the river stone and before she could cry out in alarm, he had her in his arms, wrapped around her from behind.
Her inhaled breath to scream eased out in a long moan instead as his hands found her juncture, cupping her hard. He buried his nose deep in her hair and neck, inhaling her flowery scent overlaid by the musk of her arousal. His fingers quickly found her entrance and burrowed in, spreading the growing moisture around her tight entry.
His other hand cupped her breast, pulling on the tight nipple, making her arch back into him hissing. Her round buttocks met his arousal and sheltered him within the cleft. He rocked forward, sliding against her back growling through clenched teeth.
Mine.
She whimpered as his clever fingers found her nub, rubbing the sensitive organ until she shuddered in his arms crying out her completion.
He pulled her closer then, allowing his engorged member to slip forward into her waiting channel. He thrust forward with a cry, senses overwhelmed with her tight wet heat. She snarled as he backed away, only to cry out again as his powerful hips thrust forward.
He was so focused on the sensations washing over him - her desperate cries and plucking hands at his flanks to fill her to completion, their arousal heavy in the air around them, the heat of the sunlight against his bare back competing with the warm skin that drove him onward, the salty sweet taste of her skin as he nipped and sucked at the soft white neck, the tickle of her hair against his loins as he drove forward again and again.
He was wrapped in this drive to mate, to wrap himself in her and drive her to completion again and again, to fill her belly with his seed making it swell with his child. The urgent press of the rising heat pushing hard on his lower spine through the heavy weight of the flesh driving into her encompassed his mind.
He grabbed the sheets to add more leverage to his thrust as she moaned, digging his toes into the mattress and hating the heavy weight of the duvet as it stuck to his sweat soaked body.
Wait a minute…
Willy opened his eyes from the amazingly vivid dream. The jungle faded into his familiar bedroom with his not so familiar bedmate writhing against him.
He froze in alarm. What the hell was he doing?
Veronica was moaning, pushing back against him insistently, eyes still closed and features still flushed with sleep.
Oh, God. He was no better than that bastard that raped her. Willy paled and felt his erection start to shrivel at the horror facing him. He was taking advantage of her while she slept – abusing the trust she held in him.
He was scum.
He was the biggest slime on the planet.
He was…
"You know, if you stop now, I may be forced to kill you," Veronica said conversationally as she opened her eyes and peered amusedly at him, rocking her hips back against him in a long sensuous gesture.
…the biggest stud on the face of the planet.
Arousal reborn, he bucked forward again, relishing her gasp of surprise at the renewed attack.
"We can't have that now, can we?" he purred, feeling her tighten with another orgasm.
They moved together, side by side for a few minutes more as Willy tried to ignore the hot press of his own completion to bring her around again. Finally, his hand caressed her nub and pinched the hot point of her breast to bring her shrieking and bucking against him before letting fly with his own repressed release. Willy went blind as he strained and erratically thrust into her willing body, blood rushing through his ears making him deaf to her screams as she convulsed around him.
They lay panting for a long moment. Veronica threw back the duvet weakly to let the cool air circulate around their overheated bodies.
"Sorry about that," Willy gasped, ashamed of taking advantage of her while she slept.
"Don't be. That was better than any alarm clock known on the face of the planet," she whispered, still feeling the zings of aftershocks shooting through her body.
"But I still took advantage of you," he insisted.
She rolled over to kiss him long and hard. "Nonsense. At no point was I saying 'No.' At a couple of points I may have been screaming 'YES! YES!' but I don't remember clearly because there was no blood going to my brain."
He wrapped his arms around her, regarding her fondly, "As long as you're sure then?"
"Absolutely," she purred, nibbling on his lower lip playfully.
The dim light of early morning was brightening the stained glass ceiling above their heads. The fire was still burning brightly in the hearth and Willy was somewhat proud of the piles of disheveled clothing scattered around the room.
"Happy Christmas," she murmured, stroking his damp hair away from his forehead, and making it stand up in strange ways.
"It is Christmas, isn't it? Merry Christmas to you too!" He giggled, hugging her close in delight.
She laughed at his expression, "Would you like your present now or after I get back from visiting Reggie?"
Willy looked at her slyly, sitting up to rest on one elbow to see her clearly. She presented quite the fetching site, all rumbled and flushed with his loving.
"Depends. What did you get me?" he asked coyly.
"A surprise,"
"What kind of surprise?"
"The best kind."
Willy kissed her lightly, "I think I already got the best gift in the universe – you."
Veronica smiled up at him and her fingers absently traced his chest, "Yes, but I'm not wrapped up with a bow, nor am I anything special."
"That could be arranged, and I would beg to differ," he purred, collecting another long slow kiss.
Their kiss was interrupted by a long low howl ending on a pitiful high note.
Willy glanced down at his stomach in embarrassment, blushing, "Oops! Sorry about that – I didn't get that much to eat yesterday."
She sat up, energized, "Me neither. Know what sounds good?"
"Pancakes?" he offered.
"Yup – and a shower," Veronica grimaced at him, "Not to sound offensive or anything, but I feel terribly sticky."
He blushed, realizing what the source of her discomfort was and agreed wholeheartedly that a shower was in order.
"Bathroom is beyond that door over there. Please, be my guest."
She rolled over him and strode naked over to the bathroom. Willy enjoyed the sway of her hips and watched the cat-like grace of her movements. He rolled back onto the bed and put his hands behind his head, trying to take in the sheer happiness and difference one night could make.
"You've really landed on your feet, m'boy," He said out loud to himself with a grin.
"What was that?" Veronica called, flushing the toilet.
"Nothing!"
She poked her head out around the corner and playfully posed in the doorway, leaning against the door jam with one leg cocked, head raised in challenge, hand resting on her hip, "Lovely. Everyone is happy. Now are you joining me in the shower or am I to wash my own back?"
Veronica laughed at Willy attempting to leap from the bed in his eagerness to join her and tumbling to the floor with the duvet wrapped around his legs.
"Coming love!"
--
It was an hour later that they arrived at The ramshackle Bucket home in the Chocolate Room. They had made a quick stop by Veronica's rooms to allow her to dress and collect her coat and bag. Willy was grinning but still looking more than a little startled. She'd done this thing in the shower…
Veronica watched him as they landed, feeling more than a little smug. Ambush her would he? Not without retaliation.
"Now behave yourself while we're here," she warned, moving his wandering hands from her rump.
"I will if you will," he said cheekily.
Willy threw open the door, shouting out, "Merry Christmas Buckets!"
The crew inside called out their own greetings. Veronica noted with a grin that Grandpa George seemed to be rather washed out and had bright bloodshot eyes. "Bah Humbug," was his only reply.
Mrs. Bucket had whipped up a huge stack of pancakes, a bowl full of scrambled eggs, a plate of rashers and bangers and the table practically groaned with assorted pastries, juices and, most beautiful to her eyes, a carafe of coffee.
"Help yourself – we're grazing today," Mrs. Bucket cheerfully invited. Veronica wasted no time and loaded up a plate with the delicious smelling food. She had poured herself a cup of coffee and was digging in with great appetite when Mrs. Bucket caught her eye.
She waited until Veronica returned her gaze with a raised eyebrow then deliberately looked down at the laden plate and back up at her with a wicked grin.
Oh.
Veronica fought down the blush that threatened, and then looked down at Mrs. Bucket's similarly loaded plate with intent – staring back at the woman with challenge in her eyes and a smirk of her own.
Mrs. Bucket blushed herself and glanced at her husband, talking with Charlie about a book he had gotten for Christmas.
Ah.
I guess everyone had a good time last night, then.
"Mr. Wonka, thank you for escorting Charlie to the village last night. He's told us some interesting tales," Mr. Bucket said to the Chocolatier, attempting to stuff a dripping pancake stuffed with eggs in his mouth.
Willy, cheeks bulging just waved expansively as if to say "No problem, my pleasure."
Mrs. Bucket chimed in, "Yes, quite the interesting ceremonies. When can we expect the warpaint to wear off?"
Veronica shot a look over to the embarrassed Charlie. Apparently he had fun of his own last night and the markings of the warrior youths he was dancing with were still bright on his face. Veronica struggled to hide her laugh at his expense – poor Charlie!
Willy rolled his eyes, "Charlie – what have we learned about putting strange substances on our face without knowing anything about it first?"
Charlie looked slightly puzzled for a moment. "Which thing? 'Never trust a giggling Oompa Loompa' or 'Try anything once'?"
Willy looked flustered and shot a bashful look at the bemused adults around the table, "Heh. Kids. The paint should stick around another week or so – depending on which pigments they use. Although, watch out for the black – that's permanent."
Veronica quickly polished off her plate, smiling at Charlie's alarmed face. She nodded to the table, "Please excuse my eating and running. I've got to go meet Reggie and Spencer to give them their presents."
Willy blotted his lips and shot to his feet as she rose collecting her coat and bag, "Here, let me escort you. Charlie and I need to do a quick inspection round this afternoon anyway. Charlie, meet me outside when you're ready."
He followed her out the door, only to sweep her into a passionate kiss once they were out of line of sight from the house.
"When will you be back?" he whispered once she managed to get her breath back.
"A couple of hours – by this afternoon certainly. I'm going to walk rather than take the Wonkavator."
"Are you sure? It's safer?"
"But not as low-key. Don't worry – I can take care of myself," She said softly, kissing him once more before slipping from his arms.
"This is your home now. Please come back to it safely." Willy said.
Rather stunned at that particular proclamation, she nodded and gave him a stiff smile before entering the Wonkavator to take her to the loading dock to take the back entrance out.
This was her home? She wondered with mixed feelings.
Too bad he forgot to ask her first.
--
It was a good stiff 45 minute walk from the factory. Plenty of time to think and enjoy the cold white world from which she managed to absent herself for the past few weeks. Veronica had an idea what Rip Van Winkle must have felt like after the strange but comforting world of the factory.
All the more reason why she'd probably need to find herself a new place to live rather quickly. Like the old legends of the Sidhe, you'd visit for a day only to find that a thousand years had passed in the normal world.
Not that she was planning on giving up Willy any time soon. She'd fight to stay with him until the last breath of life left her body. The only trouble lay in making that distinction – she needed her own space, but still wanted to be at his side.
Puzzling the matter, she buzzed the entry of Reggie and Spencer's building. "It's me!" she called.
The buzzer sounded without comment.
Unusual.
As she stomped up the stairs, she could hear the noise and voices associated with a television. She knocked while attempted to identify what the men were watching.
"…looks like the mystery remains for now. The woman in the pictures with the elusive chocolatier remains at large, but we'll investigate the matter and bring you the breaking news…"
The noise snapped off suddenly as the door was flung open and Spencer's slightly wild eyed grin looked maniacal, "Ronnie! Please come in." He grabbed both her arms and jerked her inside; shooting a desperate glance up and down the hall to ensure no nosey neighbors poked their heads out.
Reggie was staring at the blank screen with a horrified look that he tried to wipe away as she entered, "Merry Christmas! Please, come in – grab a chair and make yourself at home."
Veronica stopped, giving her brother a long suspicious look, "Reggie? What's going on?"
He jumped to his feet and bustled to the kitchen, "Nothing. Do you want something to drink?" Reggie grabbed a tumbler and quickly poured a shot and gulped it down before looking at the frozen woman by the door with a fake smile.
Veronica felt that she had grown into a connoisseur of such false smiles – this one was equal parts worry, fear, and desperation. Reggie was afraid of her reaction to something.
"Reggie?" Veronica asked, crossing her arms and giving him a level glare. It was the look borrowed from her mother again. He was holding out on her.
Spencer lay a calming hand on her shoulder, "Let him be, Ducks. We've had a rough couple of days."
She shot a puzzled glance at him, "What's going on? Are you two in trouble?"
"No – but I think you two are," Spencer said gently, leading her to sit on the sofa and grabbing the remote to turn the television back on.
The flat screen mounted on the wall lit up to display one of the inane celebrity news channels that Spencer and Reggie adored and she loathed. There was a video playing. It was Willy and Spencer in their dramatic dance-off from the Wedding. The voice-over was droning…
"…we see here a clip of the wildly popular U-Tube video posted two days prior. It has already registered a record 200,000 hits. The video features the elusive world-famous Chocolatier, Willy Wonka and choreographer Reginald Carmichael having fun at a private celebration."
Reggie groaned dramatically, throwing one arm over his eyes as she stifled a giggle. This is what he was stressing over? It looked like free advertising to her.
"…later footage shows Wonka dancing with a mystery woman with whom he exchanges what looks like a tender kiss…"
Veronica's head snapped so quickly back to the screen that her eyes swam for a moment. The picture showed a highly pixilated video of two figures swaying to the music. She was able to see that it was Willy and herself, although thanks to the quality of the footage there was no real way to make out her features. Her momentary relief of her concealed identity faded as the voice-over continued.
"Speculation has it that she's Veronica Carmichael – Reginald Carmichael's sister and spun-sugar artisan who partnered with Wonka to market the new rage Candy Globes selling in stores under the Wonka label. Candy Globes made an estimated 2.2 million€ this holiday season. Is love in the air for the Candy Dandy or is Carmichael playing him for a Sugar Daddy? We'll bring you more as the story develops."
Veronica was frozen in shock. She'd just figured out that she loved Willy and now the whole bloody world knew about it?
Spencer smiled sadly at her stunned face, "Sorry love. Smile – you're on candid camera."