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. This is a bit of a break for our heroes since they need it so badly – Stealth Phoenix

Warning – adult content ahead. If adult sexual behavior disturbs you, move on. You have been warned!

Chapter 63

"So let me get this straight. While I was running around being you, you were hitting the bar and singing karaoke as me?" Johnny asked, hands in pocket walking calmly along side of the Chocolatier. Dressed casually in cargo jeans and open necked button down shirt, he was a low-key presence in the splendor of the Chocolate Room.

"Yeah. Funny huh? I think they took the hint that I wasn't you after I sang," Willy admitted, kicking a stray gumball off the path and back into the swudge. "Spencer was saying that he heard dogs howling outside."

Johnny grinned. Unlike his doppelganger, he could actually carry a tune in a bucket. Nothing like Pavarotti or anything, but enough to get him through Sweeny Todd.

"Don't feel too bad. I understand you've got happy feet and I can't dance my way out of a paper bag. I envy you there – do you know what I could accomplish if I could actually dance?" Johnny said sympathetically then raised his voice to shout, "Lilly! No putting candy in your brother's hair – Jack, quit antagonizing her, you're just asking for trouble!"

There were childish shouts back and Johnny sighed and slouched, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Willy grinned at his tired expression, probably the same that crossed his face after a full day of dealing with factory problems only to be confronted by one more.

Johnny Depp and his family arrived this morning and Willy had escorted them from Veronica's apartment through the secret tunnel and into the factory proper. Rather than hogging the tour, Willy indicated that Charlie should take the lead. He wanted to see how his heir did touting the amazing things he'd developed, and it was tough to do that and guide at the same time.

The amazed looks on the adult's faces and the sheer delight on their children's was gratifying and the tour had come to a screeching halt as they reached the Chocolate room. Willy had known that this would be the case and wasn't surprised that everyone wanted to spend time exploring the room's finer details.

That's why it was the last stop for the day anyway.

Veronica and Vanessa were curled up on a blanket near the Chocolate River with Clara Bucket, talking quietly and laughing loudly. Johnny's girlfriend turned out to be a statuesque brunette with smoldering dark eyes and a wicked sense of humor. She and Veronica had hit it off like a house on fire and had spent most of the tour lurking near the back and whispering back and forth shooting both of them knowing glances that occasionally made him uneasy. Who knows what they were up to?

Johnny plucked a blade of the swudge and chewed on it thoughtfully, watching his children and Charlie throwing a oversized truffle back and forth in increasing distances until it splatted in Charlie's hands with cries of disgust and laughter. "Sorry about the mess," he said apologetically.

"It's alright. I've made worse messes in here myself and this is nothing to the chaos after the Golden Ticket contest. It took weeks to clean that up. Besides, I like watching the kids have a good time," Willy said, leaning on his cane and watching the antics of Charlie as he chased the kids, threatening to wipe the chocolate mess on them laughing like a loon. It was good to see the burdens of leadership lifted enough to let him act out the last of his childhood like this.

Charlie had done an outstanding job running the factory in his absence. The few problems that had popped up were handled readily by Neville while Orville was away and he was impressed with the ingenuity of the solution dealing with Slugworth's spies prodding the defenses of his beloved factory. He had a warm feeling that in a few more years, he could turn over daily operations to Charlie without worry.

I'll still stick around to help out while Charlie's off at school getting whatever degree he wants, Willy thought, but eventually, I'll have to move on to new things. Who knows what might catch his interest between now and then?

Willy heard laughter and turned to see Veronica laughing hard, head thrown back and clutching her stomach. Vanessa's eyes were twinkling as she laughed and she shot a knowing look over at Johnny. Clara was covering her mouth, but her cheeks were flushed and eyes watering as she giggled.

"Uh oh, not good," Johnny muttered, sounding like his pirate character for a moment. "They've been conspiring against us. This is going to end badly I can tell."

"I'm sure it's harmless," Willy said, less than convincing.

The actor shot his counterpart a disbelieving stare, "You don't know women very well do you?"

They strolled along the dehydrated marshmallow stone path to where the ladies sat.

"And just what have you been up to, young lady?" Johnny scolded, trying to go for serious and missing due to the famous smirk on his face.

"Oh, nothing much…just making some comparisons," Vanessa said, with a sly grin of her own.

Willy got a sinking feeling in his stomach as he saw Veronica's appraising stare as it ran up and down his body. If she was trying to figure out the differences between him and pirate boy…

Her slow smile reassured him as did her wink. They'd not been intimate since the night he'd proposed nearly a month ago, but she had been sleeping in his bed and arms more nights than not. Frequent nightmares from both sides interrupted their sleep, but not having her there would have been worse.

Besides, he knew he was much more attractive than some shaggy American actor.

Charlie led the two giggling children back toward their parents, pockets bulging with treats for later. Vanessa rolled her eyes and sighed at the thought of future battles for nutrition.

Such was life as a parent.

"This has been a thrilling visit. Thank you Willy," Johnny said, offering a hand.

Willy hesitated, shaking hands was still not a popular option for him and he settled for an honest grin and an inclination of the head instead, "It was my pleasure."

--

Veronica returned to Willy's room later that evening from her latest session with Sherman. The Oompa Loompa therapist hadn't waited for her to seek him out upon their return to England and the factory. It had been during Reggie and Spencer's visit as she stood under the peppermint tree in the Chocolate Room, watching their delight as they explored the room that Sherman had appeared at her side. He'd simply stood there, silent, his dark eyes watching her with patient understanding and waited.

"What?" she'd asked gruffly, still tied up with anger and frustration.

Silence.

"What do you need?" she demanded, glaring down at him. The emotions she'd spent all day suppressing surging to the surface and she fought to keep a lid on them.

Still and silent, his eyes never left hers.

"I'm not talking right now, so you can just go bugger off," she said rudely, trying to ignore those compassionate eyes and failing. Why did he those eyes make her…feel?

His silent understanding had been her undoing and she slid to the soft swudge under the tree and buried her face in her hands, repressed tears slowly leaking from her eyes, "I'm so screwed up" she admitted, meeting his eyes from equal height.

His response was to step forward and embrace her, small arms winding around her head and cradling her head against his chest, "Come see me tomorrow evening – twice a week for now."

He'd helped her through the healing process, something new to her as no one had been there to help her like this before. Considering the isolation she'd felt piecing herself back together after Marcus's attack, this was a walk in the park. The emotions were similar, but the compassionate guidance provided by Sherman helped. It was also with welcome relief that his dual role as shaman for the tribe came into play and he helped provide spiritual guidance as well – nothing attributed to any religion, but still something that helped heal the gaping wound deep inside that she'd never before admit to having.

Content but drained, she looked around to see if Willy was there. He had indicated after dinner at the Buckets that he would try to meet her after her session, but knowing him as she did, something needed his attention and he would catch up when he could.

Emotionally tired, but content, she stripped out of her clothes and put on cozy pajamas and slip on her bright teal fuzzy robe. The pajamas were black with the most eye-watering yellow ducks on them and she happily slid her cold feet into bright rainbow toe socks with daisies made of non-skid material on the bottom. Ugly as hell, but comforting all the same.

Spring was right around the corner and the temperatures were warming outside. Inside was as tropical as ever, but she still craved the textile comfort of her cozies.

She collected her book and curled up in the wingback chair nearest the fireplace. Opening her page to where she left off, she allowed herself to sink into the story – occasionally bursting out with laughter at the author's witty observances or wry turn of phrase.

God bless Terry Pratchett!

Veronica was completely oblivious to Willy's entrance. He changed out of his clothes and into his comfortable silk pajamas and dressing gown without comment. She never heard him say hello, or cough discretely attempting to get her attention. She never even noticed him standing in front of her with arms crossed, regarding her with an amused expression.

It was only after he placed a gentle finger and pushed the book down to collect a slow kiss to her startled surprise that she noticed he was there at all.

"Hello! When did you get back?" she asked, glancing at the clock and seeing that an hour had flown by.

"About ten minutes ago – you were so wrapped up in 'Interesting Times' you didn't notice," Willy said. Then his expression soured, "Why are you wearing those god awful socks?"

Veronica giggled. This was an ongoing point of contention. Willy hated the toe socks and never missed an opportunity to tease her about them.

"They're warm and I like them," she said, pretending to read.

"They're hideous. I'll get you another pair."

"I like these."

"They're actually toe-sucking aliens. No real sock is that ugly."

She had to struggle to keep a straight face, "They are not toe sucking aliens. They're socks"

"Worse yet, they're toe-sucking mind controlling aliens. Take them off before it's too late."

"But my feet are cold."

Willy struck a heroic pose, chest puffed out and hands on his hips, head cocked at what he probably thought was a striking angle, but from hers just gave her a clear view up his nose, "It is my duty to rescue you from these toe-sucking mind controlling aliens."

Veronica was giggling wildly now, dropping the book and scooting her legs up so that she was almost sitting on her own feet, "Willy…"

He lunged for her feet and she jumped off the chair with a yelp and scrambled around to put the chair between her and her crazed fiancée before he could recover.

Leaning on the seat, he gave her a solemn look, "You know that this is for your own good."

"Leave my innocent socks out of this you madman," she laughed as they swerved back and forth around the chair. Willy decided to take things into his own hands and started climbing over the top and she scrambled back to run for cover.

With a panache that was pure Willy Wonka, he stood on the chair and nudged it to tip backward, taking a step forward over the chair as it tumbled, making it look as easy as coming down a flight of stairs as it hit the floor with a smack.

"Those socks have to die," he announced, trying to catch her before she could roll to the other side of the large bed and missing.

They now were at a standoff on opposite sides of the bed.

"They're just socks – warm socks at that. No malicious intent is involved with this particular footwear. In fact they are quite famous for their non-violent intent," she said, breathless with laughter. "It's against the Geneva convention to harm them."

Willy started to creep around the side of the bed toward her and she lunged, trying to leap across again to the other side, but in a lightning fast move, he had tackled her and was using bare fingers to seek out her ticklish spots.

She curled like a shrimp around his hands, shrieking. Rolling toward him, she tried to retaliate but he managed to reach the particularly sensitive area under her arms and she was helpless with laughter.

Seeing her face flush bright red, he broke off the attack and straddled her, sitting on her bottom and facing her feet, "Don't worry dear – I'll save you!" he yelled, grabbing one waving foot and wrestling off the offending material.

"No! Not my favorites," she screamed as she attempted to wiggle free. Unfortunately, her arms were pinned to her sides under her upper body and Willy's weight prevented her from escaping.

Deftly avoiding her flailing feet, he managed to rip off the other sock and with a triumphant grunt, threw them both into the low fire burning on the hearth.

"You didn't have to burn them," Veronica protested, turning her head to see the flaming heaps that had once been her favorite socks.

"For the sake of all humanity I did," Willy retorted, sitting up and allowing her to wiggle free.

"Now my feet are cold," she complained as he rolled back to lie beside her on the bed.

"No they're not – quit whining."

Rather than waste words on argument, she retaliated by lifting the edge of his shirt and curling up on her side to place her feet squarely on his stomach.

"HOLY CHOCOLATE GODS! YOUR FEET ARE FREEZING!!"

"Told you," she said smugly as he went rigid and his teeth started to chatter.

He looked at her with bright violet eyes, just starting to darken to amethyst, "Well – I guess it's up to me to warm you up."

He rolled over and kissed her softly and ever so gently. She responded with opening her mouth in invitation and he took no time in accepting the invitation to plunder. His hand rubbed circles against her back and she wiggled out of the robe to allow closer contact.

Rolling onto his back, he guided her to rest against him, legs entwined, ugly black pajamas with yellow ducks meeting plum colored silk.

She left his lips to follow the line of his jaw up to where it met his ear and enjoyed his shudder in response. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair as his did the same for her own. He broke away breathlessly, staring up at her – looking intently into her face.

Something must have not been right because he smiled sadly and started to push her upright off of him, "There. Nice and toasty." "Willy!" she protested, untangling her legs to sit up and straddle him, "What the hell?"
"I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for," he said, resting his hands on her thighs, as if to push her off.

Frustration raged. He's been afraid to approach her since they'd gotten back. She'd waited for some indication that he'd wanted her, was open to approach, but nothing was there. It was as if she was suddenly made of glass and he was trying to put her in the curio cabinet – look but don't touch.

And she was sick of it.

"Don't you think I would tell you if I wasn't?" she demanded, shoving him back flat on the bed and pinning his shoulder with her hands. Veronica glared down into his confused eyes.

"Maybe not in words…" he said.

Gritting her teeth, she ripped open her pajama top, sending buttons careening all over the room. Willy's eyes widened as she grabbed his warm hands off her thighs and slammed them over her now exposed breasts.

"Is this enough of a hint for you?" she snarled, "Or would you like a written invitation as well?"

Involuntarily his hands twitched and she felt a slight sting of arousal as her nipples tightened in response. Beyond that he didn't move, eyes wide and jaw agape at her sudden actions. He looked like someone confronting a wild animal – not wanting to startle or frighten because they were unsure what reaction.

Placing her hands over his own against her chest she looked down at him, letting him see her expression of misery. "Willy. I understand that you want to help and are trying to be considerate of what happened to me, but all you're really doing is making me feel worse right now," She explained, taking mercy on his confusion.

He had been so careful, so considerate that anytime she changed position or shifted due to discomfort, he'd shot her a concerned glance. He hadn't pressed her to talk about her experience beyond the initial disclosure and the occasional glimpses of frustration and sadness she'd seen when he thought she wasn't looking convinced her that he'd been holding back for a while.

"You haven't looked at me twice since we got back other than just cuddle. I'm beginning to feel like you think I'm damaged goods - like I'm not good enough for you because Luis touched me against my will," she said sadly, watching his expression for any indication of what was going through his head.

Willy's eyes widened in alarm at her misperception. Not want her?

He'd been struggling not to close Veronica in, to give her a means of exit wherever they were and whatever they were doing – a few times he'd seen signs of suppressed panic and didn't want her to feel trapped. Her work with Sherman had relieved most of her waking moments, but at night when she twitched and moaned in fear, it tore him apart at the seams.

At other times, her sweet soft form was like catnip to a cat and all he wanted to do was bury his nose in and…play. But then he'd remember what had happened to her and had a bad feeling that if he pressed his interest without her explicit go-ahead, he'd be just as bad as Luis. Worse - because he knew that she wouldn't say 'no' because she didn't want to hurt him.

So rather than either of them facing that issue – he'd simply not put her in that situation.

Apparently, that wasn't going to work anymore.

His hands cupped her and slid around to caress her back as he struggled to sit upright.

"No. Nothing like that –you don't know how often I wanted to just reach over and…," He coughed with a waggle of his eyebrows invoking a bark of startled laughter out of her. "Anyway. It's just after all the nightmares we've both been having, I didn't want to foist my lusts on you on top of your other burdens," he admitted, looking up into her hazel eyes.

Veronica felt guilty. She wasn't the only one suffering after her attack. Over the past couple of weeks, she'd woken up at times, alone in the bed only to see him sitting by the fireplace, staring blankly at the flames. Other times he tossed and turned in his sleep, clutching at her and whimpering as he was lost in his own nightmares. She felt that she had been able to soothe him back into deeper sleep without waking him, but now there were doubts about how successful she'd been.

"I wasn't going to push it – I'm just happy that you're warm, alive and here with me now. I don't need anything else," Willy said, stroking a stray tendril away from her face.

Her expression softened – she really was the luckiest woman in the world with such a considerate partner.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same way about you?" she said tenderly, stroking his cheek. "Despite the fact that I'm the one who got smacked around, you've been so hurt I didn't want to drive you away by asking more of you."

Willy grinned up at her and she felt a great burden being lifted, "So…?"

She wiggled against him for a moment until she sensed his renewed interest, "So…consider this your explicit invitation to press your advances, you silly man. Now, back to your previous statement, what exactly did you want to reach over and do?" she asked in a sultry voice.

His hands closed around her and she closed her eyes and hummed happily at his clever fingers, "Something like this," he said, leaning forward to take one taunt bud into his mouth and lapped at her with his rough tongue.

Groaning, she ran her hands through his silken hair, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Her hands were restless, running down his back and his arms, only to retrace their path – the roughened skin of her hands catching against the smooth fabric of his pajamas.

Balancing herself against him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and ground against him wantonly, feeling his rousing erection pressing against her center and loving the contact.

It was his turn to moan and she smiled against his head. Pushing him back into the mattress, she made short work of the buttons of his top – although not quite as violently as her own. She kissed her way down his chest, lapping at his flat nipples with an exploratory tongue and was rewarded with his gasp in response.

He pushed the top off her shoulders and pushed at her pajama bottoms even as he arched against her. Gasping, they both made work of their remaining clothes.

Willy gritted his teeth, letting her set the pace and take the lead in this encounter, even as he longed to roll her under him and take his time tasting and touching her until she begged. He watched this beguiling woman, this temptress, make her merry way with him and clutched at what he could of her and the bedsheets, bound on the edge of anticipation and surrender and loving every moment, every drop of sweat, every cry she wrung out of him.

Veronica's eyes were wild as she impaled himself on is turgid length with a hiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and watched his face as she rose and fell to the ancient rhythm that called them both. His hands followed the long muscular line of her thighs as she surged against him and all he could do was moan helplessly at her clinching heat.

Tossing her head back, she felt the throbbing heat of where they joined wash across her, relieving her worries and cares – reducing her to a pleading creature of physical pleasure.

Willy thrust up into her and she broke, her orgasm shattering her will and she let the momentum fall as she rode him with irregular jerks. He smoothly took over the movement, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her bottom with both hands, guiding her.

Instead of tapering off, the climax seemed to hit a plateau and she was rising higher than before. Helpless she writhed, and Willy knew that he didn't have much time left before he too would follow.

Cradling her head, he dragged her down for a kiss, reaching between them to play with the bundle of nerves at the center of her pleasure. "I love you," he breathed as he touched her and let himself fly as she clenched around him again, impossibly wet and impossibly tight.

Her response was an inarticulate heartfelt cry as her movements became spastic and the world exploded around her. A sound like the rushing tide wiped out any sound. A few moments later, she could see and hear again and she was treated to watching her lover's orgasm.

She watched as his eyes went impossibly dark and the pink flush of exertion washed across his pale features. His teeth gritted and a small cry broke from his throat, his pale body was tense and the slender muscles stood out in stark relief as he clutched her.

Veronica slumped, suddenly exhausted – the floodgates had opened taking all of her energy with it.

Willy seemed the same way as he pulled her down and with awkward motions, they made their way under the covers to collapse next to each other between cool sheets.

"Are you alright?" he panted, turning his head to see her face and make sure she wasn't hiding anything from him.

All he saw was a disheveled, rosy content woman who had been happily shagged within an inch of her life. Sighing, he fell back in relief and let himself bask in the afterglow and enjoying the warm press of her flesh companionably against his own.

"You owe me new socks," she breathed, draping one cool hand across her sweating brow.

Willy just laughed up at the stained glass of his ceiling – feeling for the first time in a while that things were going to be alright. He caught her hand with the ring with his own and kissed it.

"I will be delighted to replace your toe-sucking aliens with normal socks," he replied.

"They're not aliens."

Snuggling down and drawing her closer to him, he kissed her once more, "Yes they are."

The argument would not be settled that evening.