Disclaimer: See part 1, 6, or 11.
PART 14
Willow sighed and stretched, letting her happiness flow through her. They were leaving today. Or tonight. Either way, they were one step closer to going back to their own time. She could hardly wait. But, she was feeling rather languid and sleepy and happy and not wanting to get out of bed yet.
Spike was asleep beside her, looking like the most innocent creature in the world. She chuckled to herself, knowing he'd probably kill her if he knew her thoughts. Or at least threaten her a lot. He liked to do that. He couldn't kill her, so he threatened her a lot. Well, not so much lately. She stretched again, closing her eyes with a smile and a moan of pure pleasure, a thank you from her grateful muscles.
Rolling onto her side, she studied her vampire companion. He was gorgeous with a capital 'Gor', not that she'd ever admit that to anyone but maybe herself. She wondered what he'd do if he knew she was ogling him. Probably smirk a lot and pretend to be offended, all the while drinking in the praise. His chest would probably puff out a little too. She giggled, rolling her eyes at herself.
"Definitely not going there with Spike," she whispered to her suddenly way too appraising mind.
They were friends, nothing more. Nor would there be more. If there was, it would end badly. Relationships always ended badly, and she didn't want that. She couldn't lose Spike. Not when they were trapped a hundred and forty years in the past, forced to rely on each other to get back home. Plus, she liked him.
He was smart, and funny, and sweet. Sometimes. Protective, and loyal, and-- she was going to stop this line of thought right now, before she convinced herself of the reasons to *become* involved with Spike rather than convince herself why she shouldn't.
She sighed contentedly again, her eyes flying open in surprise when a hand slid across her stomach. A hand that wasn't hers. Okay, she thought, calming her breathing, no biggie, it was just Spike's hand, and he'd done it many times before. She was just usually asleep when it happened. She bit her lip and reached down to remove his now caressing hand, tossing a quick look at his face to see if he was awake. Nope, no awake-ness there. Just a very asleep, very smiling Spike.
And why was he smiling? she wondered. What dreams were going through his mind?
Not really the point, she told herself, picking up his hand and laying it on the bed beside him. As soon as she dropped his hand, she started to sit up, intending to get out of bed, but Spike rolled over, throwing his arm over her, effectively holding her there. She gasped and went still, waiting for the panic to assail her. When it didn't, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling in relief.
It was good to know that her fear was lessening, and that Spike didn't bring out the emotions he used to when they first met up again. She was much more comfortable with his presence now, both in her life and in her bed. Usually. Like when he wasn't wrapped around her, sliding his leg between hers and nibbling on her neck. Ack.
"Spike," she whispered, only it came out as more of a gasp when his hand slid up to her breast and started to caress her. It'd been a while since she'd had any sort of sexual thoughts that didn't involve nausea and blood, but feeling a hand on her breast, caressing it, and a mouth on her neck, she suddenly started to feel a little deprived in the sex department. It'd been a while. A long while. Years even.
She rolled her eyes at herself. No matter how long it'd been, and how much she missed this, she was not going to let Spike feel her up in his sleep. She shoved at his chest and pushed at him, trying to get him off of her, but he wasn't moving. And then he did move, on his own. His hands grabbed her waist, and pulled her with him as he rolled over. Oh sure, now he rolls over, she thought, and takes me with him to land smack dab on top of him.
And, oh, feeling every inch of him. She was pretty sure she knew what he was dreaming about now.
Had it been a long time for him too? Her brow furrowed in thought. Huh, did Spike have a girlfriend? He had to have been sleeping with someone. Vampires were very sexual creatures, surely he hadn't been celibate these past five years. Surely he hadn't always taken care of it himself--
"Shut up," she whispered to herself in disgust. She was lying on top of a man who happened to be very gorgeous, very turned on, and very asleep. Groaning miserably, she took a deep breath and pushed herself up.
"Willow?" he mumbled sleepily.
She went still. Her eyes, the only thing to move, slid to his with something akin to dread. Awkwardness was sure to follow. Ugh. Biting her lip, she stared into his stormy blue eyes. One of her legs was still across him, and in fact, she was straddling his waist, looking like quite the wanton hussy. "Hi?"
That scarred eyebrow of his raised up just the smallest amount, and his lips did the same. His... excitement hadn't lessened the slightest bit, and in fact seemed to have grown more pronounced. "Hi," he chuckled.
His hands, still on her waist, were unmoving except his thumbs. They were tracing small circles on her skin. When had her shirt ridden up that far? "Um, I was just leaving," she told him, pointing to her side of the bed.
He nodded, glancing at the empty spot next to them with a smirk. "Probably would've been easier to get out of bed on that side, rather than climbing over me."
She narrowed her eyes at him. He was amused? She was straddling him, feeling way too many things that she shouldn't be because she was gay, and he wasn't a girl, and he was laughing at her? "Yeah, obviously. Won't make that mistake again." She glanced up at him, raising her own curious eyebrow. "Can I get off now?"
When he burst out laughing, she knew she'd chosen the wrong words to toss at him. Her face burned with embarrassment and she hastily climbed off of him. If she happened to be a little rougher climbing off of him than she needed to be, well, it wasn't her fault, was it? She heard his sharp intake of breath, and smirked to herself. Ha. And there. He was much more turned on than her, and a lot more visibly too, so she had no reason to be embarrassed. He did.
But he wasn't. Was he ever? Once, a long time ago, when they'd been talking about Poe. But about sex, or naked things? Nope.
She sat with her back to him, willing her heart to slow down, and her breathing to return to normal. She wanted to get up, put as much space between them as possible, but all she had on was his T-Shirt, which only went mid-thigh.
She was grateful that this was the first time this had happened in all the time they'd spent in the same bed. Hopefully it would also be the last, because she didn't think she could handle this again. Not without a little follow through. And there would definitely be no follow through.
Tossing a quick look at him over her shoulder, she was surprised to find his eyes on her, his expression one of puzzlement. What on earth was he confused about?
"Willow?" His voice was serious, the amusement from earlier was gone.
She refused to turn to look at him again, settling for keeping her eyes trained on a torn piece of wallpaper across from her. "Yeah?"
"You all right then? Didn't scare you, did I?" He sounded a bit hesitant, like he was afraid she'd confirm that he had indeed scared her, and then run screaming from the room or something.
She shook her head. "You didn't scare me," she assured him.
"Good," he sighed, sounding more distracted than relieved.
"Um, my clothes are over there... by the chair, which is against the door, which is across the room, could you... ya know, turn around?" She heard him scoff lightly, but was very happy when he agreed.
He sat up on his side of the bed, with his back to her. She jumped up quickly, ran across the room, picked up the cold material, and stepped into it with a speed she hadn't known she possessed. Tossing a harried look over her right shoulder she was surprised to see Spike gone. Spinning around, hands on the tiny row of buttons at her chest, she was even more surprised to find him right in front of her.
"God, Spike," she gasped out, holding her dress closed. An annoyed look passed over her face. "Now I'm scared. Happy?"
He shook his head, his eyes darting from her hands, still holding her dress closed, to her face. He sighed, coming no closer than he already was. "No, I'm--" he stopped, shaking his head with a frown. "Ah, bloody hell," he muttered, closing the distance between them. His hands cupped her face, drawing her toward him at the same time as he stepped closer.
She had only a split second to be surprised before his mouth settled hungrily over hers, his lips cold, but quickly warming with contact from hers. She gasped again when he pressed her back against the wall, the length of his body settling comfortably into hers. His hands threaded through her hair, then returned to her face.
And then as suddenly as that, he wasn't there anymore. Her eyes flew open at the sudden loss. Spike was pacing in front of her, looking none too happy. He tossed a few frustrated looks her way.
"It's not easy, you know. Waking up with you wrapped around me every blasted day. Or me wrapped around you." He stopped for a second, pausing to light a cigarette. The Zippo did nothing more than shoot useless sparks, so he snapped it shut, and shoved it into his pocket, tossing the cigarette on the dresser. "Ending up like this," he gestured to himself, "more often than not." A short laugh escaped him as he looked over at her. "And you none the wiser."
Willow blinked at him, at a loss as to where all this was coming from. 'Out of the blue' was not just a phrase at the moment. She'd never seen him like... that. Not that she'd spent any time looking, but still. "I--"
"Yeah, you," he scoffed. "Just because you're no longer into wanting to be touched doesn't mean the rest of the world feels the same." He moved closer, looking very defensive. "I like to be touched." He nodded to himself, then to her. "And you, maybe you're asleep when it happens, but you like to touch."
She didn't deny it. How could she? If she was asleep, she wasn't aware of what she was doing, wasn't aware that she was touching Spike. She touched Spike? Oh, she really hoped she hadn't done any really naughty touching. "Sorry?" she offered, unsure what to say.
"Sorry?" he repeated, turning away from her. "Don't apologize. I don't want apologies." He paced away again and stayed there.
"Then what do you want me to say? I didn't know I was... or that you were... I'm sorry," she said again, buttoning her dress once more.
"I said I didn't want your apologies," he ground out angrily.
She was getting a little angry herself. Finished with the tiny annoying buttons, she dropped her hands, smoothing the poofy skirt into place. "Then what the heck do you want from me?"
Spike tilted his head to the side with a frown, staring at her incredulously. "I don't want anything from you."
"Well that clears everything up, thanks, Spike." She rolled her eyes, moving past him. "We should have these chats more often--"
Spike's hand closed on her wrist, and he yanked her back to him. His eyes bore into hers, his look one of pure sex. He backed her up again, pushing her as far as she could go. Her shoudlers hit the wall, and her eyes widened causing Spike's smile to widen. "Well, maybe there is one thing I want from you," he said softly.
"What--" now she was a little scared... well, no, it wasn't fear, it was nervousness. She was nervous because, hello, Spike was stalking her.
His hands landed on the wall on either side of her head, effectively trapping her there, had she wanted to run away. Too bad the thought hadn't crossed her mind. She was supposed to be saying, 'no', supposed to be pushing him away and explaining to him why this was a bad idea. Really bad. But she wasn't doing that, and it was obvious to her, now, at this moment, that she didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of stopping this. She wasn't as unaffected by Spike's attentions as she'd thought she was. But Spike didn't get that. Any other time, she might deny it, might even try to fight this attraction she had for him, but she couldn't seem to find the words to halt him.
Not today. So she wasn't fighting him. Nor would she.
He inhaled deeply, his amused eyes settling on hers. "Not as unaffected as you'd like me to think, are you?" he drawled.
Instead of answering with her voice, she shook her head.
His eyes narrowed at her confession, but he didn't waste any time talking about it, he finally took action. His mouth once again settled on hers, and she sighed. After a moment's hesitation, she threaded her hands through his hair. So soft, she thought, how could be so soft and silky smooth when he was dead? His hands were on the bodice of her dress, sliding down to cup her breasts for a moment before tearing open the dress she'd just spent the past five minutes buttoning. At that point, she stopped thinking and just felt.
Felt his bare chest against hers, felt his hands on her skin, making it hum, felt his mouth on her breast. She moaned, pushing away from the wall and closer to him. Her hands slid down his back, along his arms and back up, urging him up as well. The need in her eyes matched his, and they tore away from each other, undressing as they made their way to the bed.
She pushed the dress off her shoulders and down her hips, stepping out of the voluminous material as Spike shoved his breeches down. Tenderness and slow loving had no place in this room. The only thing either of them was concerned about was the want and need they both possessed. Urges that needed to be satisfied. And if there happened to be a little bit of feeling mixed in, all the better, but neither one of them were admitting to it.
Spike, standing nude before her, was... well, her speech and reasoning faculties were somewhat lacking at the moment. Plus, he wasn't standing there for long, almost as soon as he stepped out of his breeches, he was moving toward her, all pale skin and hard, lean muscles. She didn't make any move to stop him, or expect any whispered words of love or caring, so it was with some surprise that he stopped and looked his fill.
His grin filled her heart with warm fuzzy feelings, and her stomach with fluttery butterfly feelings. She couldn't help the smile that crept across her face as he pulled her closer for another soul-searing kiss. Or at least toe-curling. He pushed her backward, onto the bed, laughing at her shout of surprise. Her laughter matched his deep chuckling as he tripped over her dress, falling on top of her.
"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up," he told her, kissing her soundly.
She shrugged carelessly, smirking at him. "Nothing yuck here."
Laying half on top of her and half off, he slid one hand down her stomach, causing those same butterflies to start their fluttering again. The hand continued its journey around her hip and down her thigh. She inhaled deeply, enjoying being touched again after so long. Being asleep and unaware of Spike's hands on her didn't lead to much satisfaction. This was much better. Much, much better.
He leaned down, taking her mouth with his again, nipping at her lower lip with his teeth before opening his mouth, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She had this thing about kissing. She loved it. Loved to be kissed, loved to kiss back. Just all around loved kissing. And, she was discovering, she had this thing about Spike too. The combination of two things she loved--really liked a lot--had her arching her back in contentment.
Spike pressed closer to her when she drew her nails lightly against his back. His deep chuckle sent shivers of need and longing through her as he dipped his head to take her nipple into his mouth. Heaven was within reach now. Heaven being that plateau she was striving to reach for the first time in two years. She'd missed this.
And then his hand slid between her legs.
Panic flowed through her at an astonishing rate, due, not to her fear or nervousness, but to losing Spike. Irrational as her thinking was, she knew that if their sex session got too personally involved, she'd lose Spike. Her eyes snapped open, her hand sliding down to his, halting its progress.
He lifted his head from her breasts, his eyes questioning. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern and worry written all over his face. "Am I scaring you? I'm scaring you," he decided, moving his hand to her neck as he started to roll off of her.
She halted him with a hand on his bicep. The muscles jerked under her hand, and she fixed her eyes there, rather than face him. "It's not fear. I just-- I don't..."
He lowered himself onto her fully, supporting his weight on his elbows. "You don't what?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her softly, almost tenderly.
It was too much for her. "Just don't," she whispered miserably.
He kissed her again, mistaking her misery for embarrassment. As he pulled back to look down at her, she caught sight of his reassuring smile and looked away.
She shouldn't have let this happen. It was making things too personal, too involved. She'd wanted this to be a straight forward thing. Scratch an itch, soothe an ache, satisfy an urge. If he touched her... there, it wouldn't be a one time thing. And she definitely wanted this to be a one time thing.
When things got personal, she reiterated in her mind, and relationships started, bad things happened. Angel and Buffy, her and Oz, Xander and Cordelia, Giles and Jenny, Spike and Drusilla. Buffy and Parker, her and Xander. She repeated the names like a mantra. Every single one of those relationships had ended. She didn't want to lose Spike, and if she let it become personal, that's exactly what would happen.
And now all she wanted was for this to end. End with them still friends.
She slid her arms around to his back again, holding him closer, holding him so that he couldn't run from her. Not yet. Lifting her head from the mattress, she took his mouth with hers, playing the wanton. "Now, Spike. I need you now."
He frowned slightly, but didn't stop to question her. Instead of rushing further into things though, he watched her face as he slid his hand back down her abdomen. She barely kept herself from screaming at him to stop when his thumb played over the scar there; once, twice, and then his hand halted completely. He started to sit up, pull away from her, but she didn't want that.
She wanted Spike.
Holding him still with her hands on his shoulder blades, she whispered, "Don't stop." Shame flooded through her at being reduced to begging. She kissed him again, desperately, then let her head drop back to the pillow. She didn't want to look, but she couldn't seem to stop her eyes from turning his way when he leaned down and kissed the scar. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes showing just the briefest hint of guilt before it was gone.
He was angry and feeling guilty, but she knew that he wanted her--no, this--he wanted *this* as much as she did. She had unwittingly turned him on sometime during the day, and now he was using her to slake his lust. And it was the same for her.
If she continued to tell herself that, she just might start to believe it.
He moved back over her, holding himself up by his arms, and stared at her. Just stared at her. She kept her own eyes on the ceiling above her, waiting for him to slide inside of her, to finish what they'd started. To give her the release she so desperately craved. When he only held himself there, she lowered her eyes to his, sucking in a breath as he thrust inside of her, filling her to the point of near-pain.
She groaned when he shifted slightly, closed her eyes as he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her softly. When he didn't immediately start to move, she bit her lip to keep from telling him to hurry up. Pleasure was overwhelming her and forcing all sorts of feelings to course through her, and she was afraid she'd say something she didn't want to. The pleasure, however, was quickly evaporating under his tense posture, and she just knew his eyes were equally as intense.
"Look at me," he told her, cupping her face with his callused hands.
She frowned, but opened her eyes, staring up the ceiling, avoiding looking at Spike, or his body. Too personal, she wanted to say, this is too personal, but she kept her mouth tightly closed, and swallowed back the words.
"Willow, look at me," he ground out, not so much in restrained desire, but in anger.
Her eyes flickered to his quickly before settling somewhere on his lips, rather than his eyes. Was he going to roll off of her and leave? Could he do that?
Whether he could or not, she didn't know, but he didn't, and she was grateful for that. He leaned down, kissing her softly, then more demandingly, forcing a response from her. "At least *pretend* it means something to you," he said harshly.
Her eyes widened, flying to his. "It does... you do. I--"
His furious gaze halted the flow of protestations on her tongue. "Save it." He looked away from her, preferring the pillow underneath her head to her face.
His body tensed on hers, and she was sure he was about to leave her, but he started to move instead. Move inside of her, around her, all without looking at her. There was no tenderness, no gentleness, nothing to say. They were nothing more than two people having a meaningless sexual encounter. Willow felt tears burning behind her eyelids, and let them drift shut.
He didn't hurt her, he wasn't rough with her, but he also didn't go out of his way to touch her anymore. His mouth never settled on hers again as he thrust inside of her. She felt each thrust, felt him deep inside, heightening her pleasure with each stroke. She kept her hands to herself, balling the sheet under her in her fists rather than hold him to her. Wanting this over as quickly as possible was now uppermost on her mind, second to that was release.
Tension needed to be relieved, for both of them, and then they could go about their lives again. Pretend this never happened.
Soon, she stopped worrying and went back to feeling. Just feeling, allowing the smell of Spike's skin to fill her senses; that enticing aroma of Spike and tobacco and something earthy that always hung around him. The taste of him, still on her lips, was salty and altogether too arousing. His flesh, the muscles rippling under the skin, gave her eyes something to focus on. And him, inside of her, well, that was the most tremendous feeling of all. The fullness of his flesh filling her, the friction he was creating with every thrust, all of it leading to an ultimate pinnacle that she anticipated with every taut nerve ending in her body.
After two years of abstinence, and emotions riding high, and, well frankly, being turned on to the point of insanity, she was ready.
He was too, she knew. She'd both seen and felt the proof of that before he'd even woken up. Now here they were ten, fifteen minutes later, he had to be way more than ready.
Unable to keep completely distant from him, she wrapped one of her legs around his, sliding it up to secure her ankle around his waist. Her other leg joined the first, and she locked them together.
At that small gesture, Spike seemed to lose his tight control. He buried his face into her neck, sucking her flesh into his mouth, sliding deeper inside her with a groan, then right back out again. They kissed, thrust, arched, and caressed each other into a frenzy. No tenderness, no sweet words, no mention of love. When she came, she gasped his name. When he came, his whole body went still, his mouth continuing to move on her neck.
In fact, as he gave her one heck of a hickey, she began to relax. The combination of unbelievable sex and sudden release coupled with the sucking feeling on her neck caused her to drift off to sleep.
Spike's eyes slid over Willow as she slept, enjoying the sight of her completely naked body which was practically aglow with satisfaction. She rolled over with a sigh, and a smile on her lips and he had to wonder what she was dreaming about. If it was anything like his dream before he'd woken up to find Willow on top of him, then it was entirely possible there'd be a repeat performance soon. It was only fair that he star in her dreams when she played such a pivotal role in his.
Well, no, that wasn't going to happen again. She didn't want him touching her anymore. So he'd keep his distance.
A furious scowl turned down his mouth when he remembered her reaction to him touching her. Not fear, not embarrassment, but something altogether different. He still wasn't sure what it was. All he did know was that she hadn't wanted him to touch her. Didn't want to look at him, and didn't want his hands on her. Did that mean that she'd been thinking of someone else, like Tara, and his male hands had ruined the fantasy?
A lock of her hair fell over her face and Spike had to resist the urge to brush it away. But it was hard with her moaning and stretching. The sheets slid further from her body, lower than they already were, which was down on her thighs.
Spike grabbed the edge and pulled it up, covering her. The sheet settled over her like a second skin, not obscuring a whole lot from his appreciative gaze. He was glad he could watch her unobserved for a while because he knew, like he knew his own name, that as soon as she woke up there'd be nervousness and awkwardness. Why shouldn't there be? He'd prefer there not to be, but he wasn't a nitwit. He'd hope for at least a small reprieve, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.
He sighed and settled down beside her wondering why she couldn't just let things happen. Couldn't just accept that they'd had sex and leave it at that. Why should she regret it? He was a good lover, and he'd made sure she was taken care of before him. His own control amazed him, especially since, at the time, all he'd wanted to do was finish and get away from her. But he hadn't done that to her. Hadn't vamped out, hadn't tried to feed from her either.
She stretched again, rolling over into him. He hesitated for a second before settling his arm around her waist. Her lips pressed against his chest as she mumbled something and he had to strain to hear the words. He held still, forcing himself not to go off on her when she said the blonde witch's name, but she didn't. Not this time.
"...for you, Spike."
He waited for more, but that was all there was. Well that was informative, cleared things right up. Nevertheless, he was smiling again. She was dreaming about him, and she seemed real happy about something.
He started to drift off to sleep himself when she suddenly pushed him away from her, shoving desperately at him, getting tangled in the bed sheets. A few deep shuddering breaths escaped her as he tried to shake her awake. Her heart was racing, and fear was rolling off of her, battering against him, forcing him to take a few deep breaths of his own.
"No, get off. Don't-- please..." she yelled, struggling against his grip on her shoulders. She went limp a few seconds later, and rolled away from him, curling in on herself. "Spike, help me," she whispered, her terrified voice sending guilt through him like the blood in his veins could no longer do.
He shook her harder, wanting to rid himself of the sound of her whispered words still ringing through his head. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around them frantically before dropping back to the bed with a groan.
Spike looked down at her silently for a minute before rolling over to go to sleep.
Willow sighed, watching his stiff back. Things were going to be bad between them now, she just knew it. And to top it off, she was having the nightmares again. As if things weren't complicated enough.
Something had been different with this nightmare though. She'd been having them since the attack in the warehouse, but this time Spike had been there too. She frowned, remembering Spike and nakedness and lust-filled glances.
Well, no, that was real, they'd really had sex, the part with Spike turning into the guy from the warehouse and feasting on her intestines... that was the nightmare. But not quite the same one as usual.
In the previous dreams, Spike hadn't been there trying to seduce her, he'd been nearby watching. Always watching, never helping. In this nightmare, Spike had tried to seduce her. Due to their recent activities, obviously her mind had decided to embellish his role to that of a lover.
Turning her head to him with a sigh, she wished things were different. Well, they actually were different now. What she wanted though, was for them to be back in Sunnydale, and away from each other so there was no chance of being tempted. As she got up and dressed, she wondered if he was still tempted, or if, now that he'd slaked his immediate lust, he didn't want her anymore.
PART 14
Willow sighed and stretched, letting her happiness flow through her. They were leaving today. Or tonight. Either way, they were one step closer to going back to their own time. She could hardly wait. But, she was feeling rather languid and sleepy and happy and not wanting to get out of bed yet.
Spike was asleep beside her, looking like the most innocent creature in the world. She chuckled to herself, knowing he'd probably kill her if he knew her thoughts. Or at least threaten her a lot. He liked to do that. He couldn't kill her, so he threatened her a lot. Well, not so much lately. She stretched again, closing her eyes with a smile and a moan of pure pleasure, a thank you from her grateful muscles.
Rolling onto her side, she studied her vampire companion. He was gorgeous with a capital 'Gor', not that she'd ever admit that to anyone but maybe herself. She wondered what he'd do if he knew she was ogling him. Probably smirk a lot and pretend to be offended, all the while drinking in the praise. His chest would probably puff out a little too. She giggled, rolling her eyes at herself.
"Definitely not going there with Spike," she whispered to her suddenly way too appraising mind.
They were friends, nothing more. Nor would there be more. If there was, it would end badly. Relationships always ended badly, and she didn't want that. She couldn't lose Spike. Not when they were trapped a hundred and forty years in the past, forced to rely on each other to get back home. Plus, she liked him.
He was smart, and funny, and sweet. Sometimes. Protective, and loyal, and-- she was going to stop this line of thought right now, before she convinced herself of the reasons to *become* involved with Spike rather than convince herself why she shouldn't.
She sighed contentedly again, her eyes flying open in surprise when a hand slid across her stomach. A hand that wasn't hers. Okay, she thought, calming her breathing, no biggie, it was just Spike's hand, and he'd done it many times before. She was just usually asleep when it happened. She bit her lip and reached down to remove his now caressing hand, tossing a quick look at his face to see if he was awake. Nope, no awake-ness there. Just a very asleep, very smiling Spike.
And why was he smiling? she wondered. What dreams were going through his mind?
Not really the point, she told herself, picking up his hand and laying it on the bed beside him. As soon as she dropped his hand, she started to sit up, intending to get out of bed, but Spike rolled over, throwing his arm over her, effectively holding her there. She gasped and went still, waiting for the panic to assail her. When it didn't, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling in relief.
It was good to know that her fear was lessening, and that Spike didn't bring out the emotions he used to when they first met up again. She was much more comfortable with his presence now, both in her life and in her bed. Usually. Like when he wasn't wrapped around her, sliding his leg between hers and nibbling on her neck. Ack.
"Spike," she whispered, only it came out as more of a gasp when his hand slid up to her breast and started to caress her. It'd been a while since she'd had any sort of sexual thoughts that didn't involve nausea and blood, but feeling a hand on her breast, caressing it, and a mouth on her neck, she suddenly started to feel a little deprived in the sex department. It'd been a while. A long while. Years even.
She rolled her eyes at herself. No matter how long it'd been, and how much she missed this, she was not going to let Spike feel her up in his sleep. She shoved at his chest and pushed at him, trying to get him off of her, but he wasn't moving. And then he did move, on his own. His hands grabbed her waist, and pulled her with him as he rolled over. Oh sure, now he rolls over, she thought, and takes me with him to land smack dab on top of him.
And, oh, feeling every inch of him. She was pretty sure she knew what he was dreaming about now.
Had it been a long time for him too? Her brow furrowed in thought. Huh, did Spike have a girlfriend? He had to have been sleeping with someone. Vampires were very sexual creatures, surely he hadn't been celibate these past five years. Surely he hadn't always taken care of it himself--
"Shut up," she whispered to herself in disgust. She was lying on top of a man who happened to be very gorgeous, very turned on, and very asleep. Groaning miserably, she took a deep breath and pushed herself up.
"Willow?" he mumbled sleepily.
She went still. Her eyes, the only thing to move, slid to his with something akin to dread. Awkwardness was sure to follow. Ugh. Biting her lip, she stared into his stormy blue eyes. One of her legs was still across him, and in fact, she was straddling his waist, looking like quite the wanton hussy. "Hi?"
That scarred eyebrow of his raised up just the smallest amount, and his lips did the same. His... excitement hadn't lessened the slightest bit, and in fact seemed to have grown more pronounced. "Hi," he chuckled.
His hands, still on her waist, were unmoving except his thumbs. They were tracing small circles on her skin. When had her shirt ridden up that far? "Um, I was just leaving," she told him, pointing to her side of the bed.
He nodded, glancing at the empty spot next to them with a smirk. "Probably would've been easier to get out of bed on that side, rather than climbing over me."
She narrowed her eyes at him. He was amused? She was straddling him, feeling way too many things that she shouldn't be because she was gay, and he wasn't a girl, and he was laughing at her? "Yeah, obviously. Won't make that mistake again." She glanced up at him, raising her own curious eyebrow. "Can I get off now?"
When he burst out laughing, she knew she'd chosen the wrong words to toss at him. Her face burned with embarrassment and she hastily climbed off of him. If she happened to be a little rougher climbing off of him than she needed to be, well, it wasn't her fault, was it? She heard his sharp intake of breath, and smirked to herself. Ha. And there. He was much more turned on than her, and a lot more visibly too, so she had no reason to be embarrassed. He did.
But he wasn't. Was he ever? Once, a long time ago, when they'd been talking about Poe. But about sex, or naked things? Nope.
She sat with her back to him, willing her heart to slow down, and her breathing to return to normal. She wanted to get up, put as much space between them as possible, but all she had on was his T-Shirt, which only went mid-thigh.
She was grateful that this was the first time this had happened in all the time they'd spent in the same bed. Hopefully it would also be the last, because she didn't think she could handle this again. Not without a little follow through. And there would definitely be no follow through.
Tossing a quick look at him over her shoulder, she was surprised to find his eyes on her, his expression one of puzzlement. What on earth was he confused about?
"Willow?" His voice was serious, the amusement from earlier was gone.
She refused to turn to look at him again, settling for keeping her eyes trained on a torn piece of wallpaper across from her. "Yeah?"
"You all right then? Didn't scare you, did I?" He sounded a bit hesitant, like he was afraid she'd confirm that he had indeed scared her, and then run screaming from the room or something.
She shook her head. "You didn't scare me," she assured him.
"Good," he sighed, sounding more distracted than relieved.
"Um, my clothes are over there... by the chair, which is against the door, which is across the room, could you... ya know, turn around?" She heard him scoff lightly, but was very happy when he agreed.
He sat up on his side of the bed, with his back to her. She jumped up quickly, ran across the room, picked up the cold material, and stepped into it with a speed she hadn't known she possessed. Tossing a harried look over her right shoulder she was surprised to see Spike gone. Spinning around, hands on the tiny row of buttons at her chest, she was even more surprised to find him right in front of her.
"God, Spike," she gasped out, holding her dress closed. An annoyed look passed over her face. "Now I'm scared. Happy?"
He shook his head, his eyes darting from her hands, still holding her dress closed, to her face. He sighed, coming no closer than he already was. "No, I'm--" he stopped, shaking his head with a frown. "Ah, bloody hell," he muttered, closing the distance between them. His hands cupped her face, drawing her toward him at the same time as he stepped closer.
She had only a split second to be surprised before his mouth settled hungrily over hers, his lips cold, but quickly warming with contact from hers. She gasped again when he pressed her back against the wall, the length of his body settling comfortably into hers. His hands threaded through her hair, then returned to her face.
And then as suddenly as that, he wasn't there anymore. Her eyes flew open at the sudden loss. Spike was pacing in front of her, looking none too happy. He tossed a few frustrated looks her way.
"It's not easy, you know. Waking up with you wrapped around me every blasted day. Or me wrapped around you." He stopped for a second, pausing to light a cigarette. The Zippo did nothing more than shoot useless sparks, so he snapped it shut, and shoved it into his pocket, tossing the cigarette on the dresser. "Ending up like this," he gestured to himself, "more often than not." A short laugh escaped him as he looked over at her. "And you none the wiser."
Willow blinked at him, at a loss as to where all this was coming from. 'Out of the blue' was not just a phrase at the moment. She'd never seen him like... that. Not that she'd spent any time looking, but still. "I--"
"Yeah, you," he scoffed. "Just because you're no longer into wanting to be touched doesn't mean the rest of the world feels the same." He moved closer, looking very defensive. "I like to be touched." He nodded to himself, then to her. "And you, maybe you're asleep when it happens, but you like to touch."
She didn't deny it. How could she? If she was asleep, she wasn't aware of what she was doing, wasn't aware that she was touching Spike. She touched Spike? Oh, she really hoped she hadn't done any really naughty touching. "Sorry?" she offered, unsure what to say.
"Sorry?" he repeated, turning away from her. "Don't apologize. I don't want apologies." He paced away again and stayed there.
"Then what do you want me to say? I didn't know I was... or that you were... I'm sorry," she said again, buttoning her dress once more.
"I said I didn't want your apologies," he ground out angrily.
She was getting a little angry herself. Finished with the tiny annoying buttons, she dropped her hands, smoothing the poofy skirt into place. "Then what the heck do you want from me?"
Spike tilted his head to the side with a frown, staring at her incredulously. "I don't want anything from you."
"Well that clears everything up, thanks, Spike." She rolled her eyes, moving past him. "We should have these chats more often--"
Spike's hand closed on her wrist, and he yanked her back to him. His eyes bore into hers, his look one of pure sex. He backed her up again, pushing her as far as she could go. Her shoudlers hit the wall, and her eyes widened causing Spike's smile to widen. "Well, maybe there is one thing I want from you," he said softly.
"What--" now she was a little scared... well, no, it wasn't fear, it was nervousness. She was nervous because, hello, Spike was stalking her.
His hands landed on the wall on either side of her head, effectively trapping her there, had she wanted to run away. Too bad the thought hadn't crossed her mind. She was supposed to be saying, 'no', supposed to be pushing him away and explaining to him why this was a bad idea. Really bad. But she wasn't doing that, and it was obvious to her, now, at this moment, that she didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of stopping this. She wasn't as unaffected by Spike's attentions as she'd thought she was. But Spike didn't get that. Any other time, she might deny it, might even try to fight this attraction she had for him, but she couldn't seem to find the words to halt him.
Not today. So she wasn't fighting him. Nor would she.
He inhaled deeply, his amused eyes settling on hers. "Not as unaffected as you'd like me to think, are you?" he drawled.
Instead of answering with her voice, she shook her head.
His eyes narrowed at her confession, but he didn't waste any time talking about it, he finally took action. His mouth once again settled on hers, and she sighed. After a moment's hesitation, she threaded her hands through his hair. So soft, she thought, how could be so soft and silky smooth when he was dead? His hands were on the bodice of her dress, sliding down to cup her breasts for a moment before tearing open the dress she'd just spent the past five minutes buttoning. At that point, she stopped thinking and just felt.
Felt his bare chest against hers, felt his hands on her skin, making it hum, felt his mouth on her breast. She moaned, pushing away from the wall and closer to him. Her hands slid down his back, along his arms and back up, urging him up as well. The need in her eyes matched his, and they tore away from each other, undressing as they made their way to the bed.
She pushed the dress off her shoulders and down her hips, stepping out of the voluminous material as Spike shoved his breeches down. Tenderness and slow loving had no place in this room. The only thing either of them was concerned about was the want and need they both possessed. Urges that needed to be satisfied. And if there happened to be a little bit of feeling mixed in, all the better, but neither one of them were admitting to it.
Spike, standing nude before her, was... well, her speech and reasoning faculties were somewhat lacking at the moment. Plus, he wasn't standing there for long, almost as soon as he stepped out of his breeches, he was moving toward her, all pale skin and hard, lean muscles. She didn't make any move to stop him, or expect any whispered words of love or caring, so it was with some surprise that he stopped and looked his fill.
His grin filled her heart with warm fuzzy feelings, and her stomach with fluttery butterfly feelings. She couldn't help the smile that crept across her face as he pulled her closer for another soul-searing kiss. Or at least toe-curling. He pushed her backward, onto the bed, laughing at her shout of surprise. Her laughter matched his deep chuckling as he tripped over her dress, falling on top of her.
"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up," he told her, kissing her soundly.
She shrugged carelessly, smirking at him. "Nothing yuck here."
Laying half on top of her and half off, he slid one hand down her stomach, causing those same butterflies to start their fluttering again. The hand continued its journey around her hip and down her thigh. She inhaled deeply, enjoying being touched again after so long. Being asleep and unaware of Spike's hands on her didn't lead to much satisfaction. This was much better. Much, much better.
He leaned down, taking her mouth with his again, nipping at her lower lip with his teeth before opening his mouth, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She had this thing about kissing. She loved it. Loved to be kissed, loved to kiss back. Just all around loved kissing. And, she was discovering, she had this thing about Spike too. The combination of two things she loved--really liked a lot--had her arching her back in contentment.
Spike pressed closer to her when she drew her nails lightly against his back. His deep chuckle sent shivers of need and longing through her as he dipped his head to take her nipple into his mouth. Heaven was within reach now. Heaven being that plateau she was striving to reach for the first time in two years. She'd missed this.
And then his hand slid between her legs.
Panic flowed through her at an astonishing rate, due, not to her fear or nervousness, but to losing Spike. Irrational as her thinking was, she knew that if their sex session got too personally involved, she'd lose Spike. Her eyes snapped open, her hand sliding down to his, halting its progress.
He lifted his head from her breasts, his eyes questioning. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern and worry written all over his face. "Am I scaring you? I'm scaring you," he decided, moving his hand to her neck as he started to roll off of her.
She halted him with a hand on his bicep. The muscles jerked under her hand, and she fixed her eyes there, rather than face him. "It's not fear. I just-- I don't..."
He lowered himself onto her fully, supporting his weight on his elbows. "You don't what?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her softly, almost tenderly.
It was too much for her. "Just don't," she whispered miserably.
He kissed her again, mistaking her misery for embarrassment. As he pulled back to look down at her, she caught sight of his reassuring smile and looked away.
She shouldn't have let this happen. It was making things too personal, too involved. She'd wanted this to be a straight forward thing. Scratch an itch, soothe an ache, satisfy an urge. If he touched her... there, it wouldn't be a one time thing. And she definitely wanted this to be a one time thing.
When things got personal, she reiterated in her mind, and relationships started, bad things happened. Angel and Buffy, her and Oz, Xander and Cordelia, Giles and Jenny, Spike and Drusilla. Buffy and Parker, her and Xander. She repeated the names like a mantra. Every single one of those relationships had ended. She didn't want to lose Spike, and if she let it become personal, that's exactly what would happen.
And now all she wanted was for this to end. End with them still friends.
She slid her arms around to his back again, holding him closer, holding him so that he couldn't run from her. Not yet. Lifting her head from the mattress, she took his mouth with hers, playing the wanton. "Now, Spike. I need you now."
He frowned slightly, but didn't stop to question her. Instead of rushing further into things though, he watched her face as he slid his hand back down her abdomen. She barely kept herself from screaming at him to stop when his thumb played over the scar there; once, twice, and then his hand halted completely. He started to sit up, pull away from her, but she didn't want that.
She wanted Spike.
Holding him still with her hands on his shoulder blades, she whispered, "Don't stop." Shame flooded through her at being reduced to begging. She kissed him again, desperately, then let her head drop back to the pillow. She didn't want to look, but she couldn't seem to stop her eyes from turning his way when he leaned down and kissed the scar. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes showing just the briefest hint of guilt before it was gone.
He was angry and feeling guilty, but she knew that he wanted her--no, this--he wanted *this* as much as she did. She had unwittingly turned him on sometime during the day, and now he was using her to slake his lust. And it was the same for her.
If she continued to tell herself that, she just might start to believe it.
He moved back over her, holding himself up by his arms, and stared at her. Just stared at her. She kept her own eyes on the ceiling above her, waiting for him to slide inside of her, to finish what they'd started. To give her the release she so desperately craved. When he only held himself there, she lowered her eyes to his, sucking in a breath as he thrust inside of her, filling her to the point of near-pain.
She groaned when he shifted slightly, closed her eyes as he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her softly. When he didn't immediately start to move, she bit her lip to keep from telling him to hurry up. Pleasure was overwhelming her and forcing all sorts of feelings to course through her, and she was afraid she'd say something she didn't want to. The pleasure, however, was quickly evaporating under his tense posture, and she just knew his eyes were equally as intense.
"Look at me," he told her, cupping her face with his callused hands.
She frowned, but opened her eyes, staring up the ceiling, avoiding looking at Spike, or his body. Too personal, she wanted to say, this is too personal, but she kept her mouth tightly closed, and swallowed back the words.
"Willow, look at me," he ground out, not so much in restrained desire, but in anger.
Her eyes flickered to his quickly before settling somewhere on his lips, rather than his eyes. Was he going to roll off of her and leave? Could he do that?
Whether he could or not, she didn't know, but he didn't, and she was grateful for that. He leaned down, kissing her softly, then more demandingly, forcing a response from her. "At least *pretend* it means something to you," he said harshly.
Her eyes widened, flying to his. "It does... you do. I--"
His furious gaze halted the flow of protestations on her tongue. "Save it." He looked away from her, preferring the pillow underneath her head to her face.
His body tensed on hers, and she was sure he was about to leave her, but he started to move instead. Move inside of her, around her, all without looking at her. There was no tenderness, no gentleness, nothing to say. They were nothing more than two people having a meaningless sexual encounter. Willow felt tears burning behind her eyelids, and let them drift shut.
He didn't hurt her, he wasn't rough with her, but he also didn't go out of his way to touch her anymore. His mouth never settled on hers again as he thrust inside of her. She felt each thrust, felt him deep inside, heightening her pleasure with each stroke. She kept her hands to herself, balling the sheet under her in her fists rather than hold him to her. Wanting this over as quickly as possible was now uppermost on her mind, second to that was release.
Tension needed to be relieved, for both of them, and then they could go about their lives again. Pretend this never happened.
Soon, she stopped worrying and went back to feeling. Just feeling, allowing the smell of Spike's skin to fill her senses; that enticing aroma of Spike and tobacco and something earthy that always hung around him. The taste of him, still on her lips, was salty and altogether too arousing. His flesh, the muscles rippling under the skin, gave her eyes something to focus on. And him, inside of her, well, that was the most tremendous feeling of all. The fullness of his flesh filling her, the friction he was creating with every thrust, all of it leading to an ultimate pinnacle that she anticipated with every taut nerve ending in her body.
After two years of abstinence, and emotions riding high, and, well frankly, being turned on to the point of insanity, she was ready.
He was too, she knew. She'd both seen and felt the proof of that before he'd even woken up. Now here they were ten, fifteen minutes later, he had to be way more than ready.
Unable to keep completely distant from him, she wrapped one of her legs around his, sliding it up to secure her ankle around his waist. Her other leg joined the first, and she locked them together.
At that small gesture, Spike seemed to lose his tight control. He buried his face into her neck, sucking her flesh into his mouth, sliding deeper inside her with a groan, then right back out again. They kissed, thrust, arched, and caressed each other into a frenzy. No tenderness, no sweet words, no mention of love. When she came, she gasped his name. When he came, his whole body went still, his mouth continuing to move on her neck.
In fact, as he gave her one heck of a hickey, she began to relax. The combination of unbelievable sex and sudden release coupled with the sucking feeling on her neck caused her to drift off to sleep.
Spike's eyes slid over Willow as she slept, enjoying the sight of her completely naked body which was practically aglow with satisfaction. She rolled over with a sigh, and a smile on her lips and he had to wonder what she was dreaming about. If it was anything like his dream before he'd woken up to find Willow on top of him, then it was entirely possible there'd be a repeat performance soon. It was only fair that he star in her dreams when she played such a pivotal role in his.
Well, no, that wasn't going to happen again. She didn't want him touching her anymore. So he'd keep his distance.
A furious scowl turned down his mouth when he remembered her reaction to him touching her. Not fear, not embarrassment, but something altogether different. He still wasn't sure what it was. All he did know was that she hadn't wanted him to touch her. Didn't want to look at him, and didn't want his hands on her. Did that mean that she'd been thinking of someone else, like Tara, and his male hands had ruined the fantasy?
A lock of her hair fell over her face and Spike had to resist the urge to brush it away. But it was hard with her moaning and stretching. The sheets slid further from her body, lower than they already were, which was down on her thighs.
Spike grabbed the edge and pulled it up, covering her. The sheet settled over her like a second skin, not obscuring a whole lot from his appreciative gaze. He was glad he could watch her unobserved for a while because he knew, like he knew his own name, that as soon as she woke up there'd be nervousness and awkwardness. Why shouldn't there be? He'd prefer there not to be, but he wasn't a nitwit. He'd hope for at least a small reprieve, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.
He sighed and settled down beside her wondering why she couldn't just let things happen. Couldn't just accept that they'd had sex and leave it at that. Why should she regret it? He was a good lover, and he'd made sure she was taken care of before him. His own control amazed him, especially since, at the time, all he'd wanted to do was finish and get away from her. But he hadn't done that to her. Hadn't vamped out, hadn't tried to feed from her either.
She stretched again, rolling over into him. He hesitated for a second before settling his arm around her waist. Her lips pressed against his chest as she mumbled something and he had to strain to hear the words. He held still, forcing himself not to go off on her when she said the blonde witch's name, but she didn't. Not this time.
"...for you, Spike."
He waited for more, but that was all there was. Well that was informative, cleared things right up. Nevertheless, he was smiling again. She was dreaming about him, and she seemed real happy about something.
He started to drift off to sleep himself when she suddenly pushed him away from her, shoving desperately at him, getting tangled in the bed sheets. A few deep shuddering breaths escaped her as he tried to shake her awake. Her heart was racing, and fear was rolling off of her, battering against him, forcing him to take a few deep breaths of his own.
"No, get off. Don't-- please..." she yelled, struggling against his grip on her shoulders. She went limp a few seconds later, and rolled away from him, curling in on herself. "Spike, help me," she whispered, her terrified voice sending guilt through him like the blood in his veins could no longer do.
He shook her harder, wanting to rid himself of the sound of her whispered words still ringing through his head. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around them frantically before dropping back to the bed with a groan.
Spike looked down at her silently for a minute before rolling over to go to sleep.
Willow sighed, watching his stiff back. Things were going to be bad between them now, she just knew it. And to top it off, she was having the nightmares again. As if things weren't complicated enough.
Something had been different with this nightmare though. She'd been having them since the attack in the warehouse, but this time Spike had been there too. She frowned, remembering Spike and nakedness and lust-filled glances.
Well, no, that was real, they'd really had sex, the part with Spike turning into the guy from the warehouse and feasting on her intestines... that was the nightmare. But not quite the same one as usual.
In the previous dreams, Spike hadn't been there trying to seduce her, he'd been nearby watching. Always watching, never helping. In this nightmare, Spike had tried to seduce her. Due to their recent activities, obviously her mind had decided to embellish his role to that of a lover.
Turning her head to him with a sigh, she wished things were different. Well, they actually were different now. What she wanted though, was for them to be back in Sunnydale, and away from each other so there was no chance of being tempted. As she got up and dressed, she wondered if he was still tempted, or if, now that he'd slaked his immediate lust, he didn't want her anymore.