WWWWW
Angelus
glanced down at Willow and frowned ever so slightly. She was sitting at her
usual place on the ottoman, by his side, but she looked despondent with her
head hanging low and her eyes steadily fixed on her hands in her lap. Usually
she was eager to soak up the conversation, her natural born curiosity meant
that her eyes took in every little detail and rarely was she so still.
"Sit up
straight, Willow. If you persist in slouching I'll dress you in a corset and
gown," he threatened, shifting in his chair and taking a drag on his
cigarette, watching as she straightened but kept her eyes downcast.
Angelus never took
his eyes off her as he spoke to Spike about nothing in particular, continuing
to watch her and muse over her mood.
Even after he’d beaten Spike and reinforced the threat he held over her,
she had been timid and meek, but she’d still taken an interest in the general
conversation that went on about her.
But this emptiness was different and Angelus exhaled, blowing the smoke
in her general direction as she slouched down again. It could have been a number of things, perhaps Spike had been a
little over zealous in his verbal provocation of the redhead in their morning
session. Angelus had watched it all
from the shadows of the upper level, just as he had every morning since they’d
started training together, but the verbal attack alone wouldn’t account for her
mood, nor would physical pain if her leg was still hurting. No, there was
something more to the picture of gloom and doom that she presented and Angelus
was sick of it. Tossing his cigarette
into the empty fireplace, he grabbed her arm and hauled her slouching form up
off the ottoman.
"That's it, you
were warned," he growled, dragging her off towards her rooms as Spike’s
laughter accompanied them. His hold on
her arm wasn’t painful, just firm and unrelenting, supporting her as they
walked. At least until they reached her bedroom and he released her. “Strip.”
Angelus didn’t even
bother to look at Willow, knowing full well that she’d comply with his demands.
Instead he turned on his heel and entered the vast walk-in closet. When the rooms had first been reorganized
for the purpose of housing his concubine, the closet had been practically
empty, one or two items of clothing had been purchased in preparation, but
basically the huge area had been bare.
But now, now it was nearly full with all sorts of clothes. Classic lines
mixed with modern trends, vintage was matched with contemporary and there was a
myriad of colors, all carefully chosen to suit his desires. Including those times when his taste became
nostalgic, such as now, and he pulled out an Edwardian gown with full
accessories and sauntered back out to her room. The dress was carelessly tossed down on the bed and the flimsy
underwear and whalebone corset were layered on top in the order that they would
be needed to dress her.
The first item,
which Angelus picked up, was a delicate pair of fine cotton drawers, the height
of Edwardian fashion and decoratively trimmed in tiny mother of pearl buttons,
soft lace and fine silk ribbons.
Turning to face him, Willow swallowed, her thumbs hooking in her bikini
panties, pushing them down. In a mocking act of gallantry, he bent at the waist
and held open the drawers for her.
There was the slight trace of a smirk on his lips as she held onto his
shoulder to keep her balance, easily stepping into the drawers before he turned
away to retrieve the matching camisole.
Just as easily it was slipped on and Angelus stepped in closer to her,
his hands fussing about, smoothing over the material and wrapping about her
waist.
“It’s amazing how
erotic fine white cotton and lace can be,” he murmured, a single finger tracing
the edge of the dainty lace trim, a fleeting intimate touch before he was
stepping back again, releasing her to pick up a pair of old fashioned
stockings, the sort that came to just above her knee, and he held them out to
her. Silently, Willow took them,
sitting on the edge of the bed to put them on and Angelus sighed as he picked
up the corset. “I miss corsets. There’s
something incredibly feminine about them, accentuating the waist and pushing up
the breasts.”
There was no comment
from the redhead as she finished smoothing on the stockings and Angelus offered
her his hand, pulling her up off the bed to lead her to one of the tall, solid
bedposts. Slowly moving behind her, he
reached about, wrapping the corset around her waist, his fingers readily
working on the laces that would bind it all together.
"Of course
there wasn't anything feminine about the tight lacers,” Angelus murmured, his
cool fingers brushing across the bare expanse of skin at the top of her back as
he moved in closer, bushing his lips across her shoulder. “Do you know who they were?"
“No,” Willow shook
her head and Angelus smiled, at last she had broken her silence, even if it was
only one word.
“Women who used
their corsets to reshape their bodies, some were so fanatical that they even
slept in the damn things. Grab hold of the post,” Angelus waited until she
raised her arms, her hands wrapping loosely about the timber, and he began to
methodically draw the laces in tighter.
"They use to have their corsets laced so tightly that there was
permanent bruising around their waists. There’s nothing more grotesque than
stagnant blood pooling beneath the skin.”
"I would have
thought that was like an aphrodisiac to a vampire," Willow spoke quietly,
wincing slightly and increasing her hold as the corset began to tighten.
"No, drinking
blood from a bruise is like drinking sour milk," he murmured against her
ear, pulling the laces tighter, making the bones in the corset creak from the
strain and forcing a sharp gasp of pain from the redhead. Smiling broadly, Angelus continued to
tighten the laces, fitting the corset snuggly and pulling in her waist.
"Now as for menstrual blood, that's a different story. It changes, you
know, the sweetness of it. Virgin’s monthly blood is like ambrosia, but once a
woman has had a child, there's something vulgar about the taste," he leant
in close to her ear. "But I know that's something I won't have to worry
about with you. I wonder what you taste like when you bleed? Your blood is so
sweet, so intoxicating in its natural state that I can’t help but think it will
be delicious. Guess I'll find out in a
few days..."
“How…” Willow turned
her head slightly, digging her nails into the post as the laces were once more
tugged on and her breath became shallow.
“How do you know these things?”
“We spent a lot of
time together back in the day, Willow,” Angelus stated, tying off the laces and
tucking them away neatly. “And like
everything about you, you could hide nothing, not even the subtle changes your body
makes when Nature wants you to procreate. Of course it was all delectably
enhanced by the fact that you never wore perfume, unlike the others. You were as regular as clockwork, the subtle
change of scent, the way you held yourself and then those wonderful days when
you actually bled, those were the days I loathed and loved. Remember how I use to sit closer to
you? In the library, or the Bronze, I
was always there.” Chuckling, he walked
over to the bureau that rested against the wall her room shared with the
bathroom and opened the elaborately carved jewelry box. “So how do you think I
know, darlin’?”
Willow turned
slowly, leaning against the bedpost as she watched him searching through the
case. One of her hands rested against
the front of the confining corset and she considered what he’d said. She could imagine that with heightened
vampire senses he would easily have been able to pick out the days of her
cycle, but it was the other things he’d mentioned that made her feel uneasy. Back in the day, it was a phrase he often
used when he spoke of the time he’d spent in Sunnydale with a soul, he wouldn’t
demean himself by verbalizing the very thing that he’d loathed, that had
restricted him. But they were days that
she couldn’t distinctively remember, they could have easily been the illusions
of a past life, one that she was beginning to forget, and he could have been
lying about them, about sitting closer to her.
However, she doubted that he was lying for one reason and one reason
alone ~ for all intents and purposes she had never known him to lie to her.
“Don’t you look
marvelously enticing,” Angelus purred as he sauntered over to her and cupped
her face with his free hand, his thumb caressing her cheek. “All wide eyed innocence, my little ingénue. Come,” he stated, breaking his hold and
sitting down on the end of her bed, patting the space next to him. “Sit with me.”
Without hesitating,
Willow covered the small distance and joined him on the bed. Admittedly it was somewhat awkward to sit in
the corset and she had to perch on the edge.
“Now, you’re old
enough to wear your hair up, expose that lovely neck of yours,” stated Angelus,
shifting slightly as his hands strayed to her hair and he began to brush it,
combing out the few tangles that had accumulated during the course of the day
before twisting and turning it with practiced ease. “I haven’t the patience for anything too elaborate. Another night
perhaps, we’ll set off the red of your hair by putting it in ringlets, tiny
curls held in place by sapphire and diamond pins, or maybe emeralds would suit
you better…”
Willow wasn’t really
listening, instead she relaxed into the repetitive stroking of her hair and the
feel of his fingers carefully styling it in a fashion that was no longer popular.
Alas it was over all too soon as he inserted an old-fashioned wooden slide comb
into place, securely holding her hair in the intricate upswept style he’d
created.
“Finish dressing,”
Angelus stated, rising to his feet and glancing down at her. “I’ve put out the earrings I want you to
wear. Once you’re dressed join us in
the lounge room.”
It took Willow
barely ten minutes to finish what Angelus had started, adding an elaborate
petticoat to her underwear before donning the heavily beaded, sapphire blue
evening gown that he’d left for her.
The dress was a snug fit, clinging to every curve that the corset had
created and framing her cleavage and shoulders, while her arms were essentially
bare and the sapphire drop earrings finished the picture of Edwardian
style. As she slowly returned to the
lounge room, the confines of the dress ensuring that she took only small steps,
Spike laughed at her.
"Oh, this is a
pretty picture," he smirked, taking her hand and raising it to his lips as
he bowed in a mocking courtly gesture. "May I say it's a pleasure to make
your acquaintance."
His blue eyes
laughed up at her and Willow tried to snatch her hand away, but the blond held
it firmly in his. Still smirking, Spike straightened and pulled her in close,
his arm snaking about her waist.
"May I have the
honor of this dance," he asked or rather demanded. He didn’t wait for a reply, instead
immediately leading her off in a waltz.
"What do you
really think, Spike?" asked Angelus, resting back against his chair and
watching them with interest. It was obvious to the dark haired vampire that she
was fighting against his childe, apparently uncomfortable at being so close to
him and more than a little uncomfortable with herself.
"She’s
pretty. Reminds me of all those nights
we spent in the drawing rooms of society," Spike spoke softly as he
continued to waltz her about the room, his eyes searching her face, a soft
trace of a smile on his lips. "How many hours did we spend dancing,
listening to pretty little girls sing and playing those damnable games before
we could sweet talk our way into a dark corner to drain societies most precious
daughters?"
"Hours upon
hours," Angelus affirmed, continuing to watch them and he smirked at some
century old memory of the drawing room games of the gentry. "I miss those
games, they were amusing in their own way."
"What sort of
games?" asked Willow, curious as to what they meant. Angelus laughed and
pushed himself out of his chair, strolling over to the couple, stopping their
dance to pull Willow away only so that he could continue the waltz with her.
"I suppose the
best way to explain them is to play them," Angelus purred, twirling her
about with well-practiced ease. "Spike, get a blindfold."
Willow's eyes locked
on Angelus’ and she blushed furiously as her mind conjured up the memories of
what had happened the last time she was blindfolded. His eyes were darkening and he smirked, causing Willow to drop
her head down in embarrassment as she realized that he was probably thinking of
the same thing. She could feel the heat
in her cheeks even as their dance came to an end and she took a step away from
him. Spike came back to the room,
twirling a black silk scarf around in his hand.
“Ladies first,
Angelus?” he asked, holding out the scarf to the other vampire.
“Always,” Angelus
stated, taking the scrap of material and moving behind Willow, easily wrapping
the silk about her eyes, blinding her.
Once it was knotted in place, he began to turn her in circles, his hands
on her shoulders, urging her to turn again and again. "With this game you have to catch someone and kiss
them."
"How am I meant
to catch you if I can't see you?" she asked as she was released and she
reached out, her hands testing the air in front of her.
"Simple,"
Angelus whispered against her ear. "You listen and you feel."
With that he stepped
back, just out of her reach as she spun around, and he winked at Spike.
Together they slowly began to circle her, their hands reaching out and lightly
touching her. Or in Spike’s case, pinching her on the bum, which made her
squeal and Angelus laugh.
"This isn't
fair,” Willow protested, spinning around and reaching out. “You don't even breathe!"
Angelus laughed
again and she lunged at the sound. He smiled and side stepped her, walking
around to stand behind her, his fingers reaching out and lightly running down
her back. Once more she spun, blindly grabbing at him and he snatched his hand
away. Spike leaned forward and tapped the back of her knee, making her turn
again and grasp at the empty air.
"You can move
about, Willow," Angelus said, walking around so she wouldn't be able to
focus on his voice long enough to catch him. "We won't let you get
hurt."
Hesitantly, she took
a few steps forward and listened closely. Although they didn't breathe, their
clothes made sound as they moved, Angelus' soft silk shirt rustled slightly
while his pants creaked softly and Spike's denim jeans made a rougher
'whooshing' sound as he walked about. They continued to torment her, constantly
reaching out and touching her, soft strokes, slight slaps and of course the
various lascivious pinches from Spike. Finally, she stood still and listened,
waiting for one of them to come in to touch her. As soon as she was certain she heard someone coming closer, she
pounced, throwing herself at the sound and was rewarded by grabbing hold of a
cool, hard body. Despite herself, Willow bounced up and down, giggling madly at
her success.
"I got you, I
got you," she chanted, suddenly realizing she sound very much like a
child, but not really caring because she’d finally caught one of them.
"You haven't
got him until you kiss him, Willow," Angelus reminded her from behind her
and she realized that the vampire she had such a firm hold on was Spike.
Slowly, she let her hand move to his face, tracing the contours of his jaw and
rose up to her toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. Behind her, Angelus
chuckled. "Well done. Spike, your turn."
The blindfold was
unknotted and transferred to Spike.
Willow watched in a fit of giggles as the blond was spun, he kept making
silly comments and acting like some slap stick fool until Angelus released him,
then he was on the hunt. He was quick,
turning and spinning, lunging at the slightest sound. Angelus caught Willow’s hand,
pulling her away from the blond and urging her to reach out and playfully touch
him, dragging her away in time to miss being caught by the blond. Soon she found herself giggling with Angelus
and Spike as the silly drawing room game continued. It was the laughter that found Angelus caught by the blond and
Willow watched as Spike kissed him.
There was no chaste kiss like she had bestowed on Spike, this kiss was
one of passion and it made her feel like she was an intruder. Silently, she
dropped Angelus' hand and stepped back from the two men.
"My turn,"
declared Angelus, taking the blindfold from Spike. Turning on his heel, he walked over to Willow and knelt down
before her, holding out the silk scarf. "Blindfold me."
Taking the blindfold
from his hands, she quickly tied it about his head and took his hand in hers to
help in to his feet so she could spin him about. Despite everything she was giggling again, the absurdity of it
all proving to be too much fun, although the corset wasn’t exactly lenient and
the fits of giggles left her breathless and flushed. Releasing her flimsy hold on Angelus, she took a step back and
Spike immediately stuck out at him, catching him on the knee and silently urged
Willow to do the same. Amongst giggles, threats and taunts, they continued the
game with Angelus making several near misses and Willow being saved too often
by Spike wrapping his arms about her and pulling her out of the elder vampire’s
range, making her laugh even harder in the tight gown, until she was nearly in
tears.
Little did she know
that Spike would use the same tactic to actually stop himself being
caught. As Angelus lunged at Spike, the
blond grabbed Willow and held her in front of him. It was her lips that Angelus’ crashed down on and he kept pushing
her backwards until she was pressed flush against Spike for the duration the
long and ardent kiss. Just when she
thought she was going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, Angelus broke the
kiss and pulled the blindfold away, smirking at both she and Spike.
"What next?” he
demanded, turning his back on the two and tossing the blindfold aside. He spun, his face beaming with
excitement. “I know, hide and seek.”
"Hide and
seek?" questioned Willow, thinking she had surely heard him incorrectly.
"You mean we hide and you seek us out?"
"Smart and
pretty, could be a deadly combination," Spike said sarcastically and
Angelus ignored him.
"That is it
precisely, I'll give you both until I count to fifty," he paused, his eyes
darkening and roaming over the two individuals standing in front of him.
"Then I'm coming to get you."
He turned his back
and started to count. Spike grabbed Willow's hand, hauling her to the stairs.
"Come on,
love," he urged, glancing back at his sire and Willow giggled, willingly
following as he led her down the stairs and into the catacombs of the lower
level hallways. In a mad dash they ran through the maze of the mansion, Spike
never loosening his hold on her.
"Spike,"
Willow called breathlessly, making him slow down and glance back at her.
"I can't keep up in this outfit, you go on."
"Nah, come on,
we'll go out to the garden. Harder to track a heartbeat out there," he
stated, leading her down a hallway that had French doors opening out into the
lavish grounds of the mansion.
"You two better
run," called out Angelus from somewhere in the mansion. Willow squealed in
delight as Spike squeezed her hand and led her through the moonlit garden.
"He's going to
catch us," she stated, looking back over her shoulder for any sign of the
dark haired vampire.
"Of course he
is, that's the whole point of the game," Spike laughed as they walked down
one of the many paths that wound through the gardens.
"Yes, but I
thought it would take longer," Angelus stated from behind them and they
both spun, still holding hands and stared at him barely a few feet away.
"Bloody hell,
run," Spike shouted, pushing Willow toward another path.
With a shriek of
delight, she ran as fast as she could in the constricting clothes she was
wearing. Without looking back she continued down the path, only stopping when
it ended in a small garden of roses. Catching her breath, she strolled amongst
the roses and marveled at the many different varieties, the game and Angelus
was temporarily forgotten. She paused in front of a single rose of pale pink,
closing her eyes and breathing in its wonderfully sweet scent.
"How fitting to
find a rose like yourself surrounded by flowers that pale in comparison,"
Angelus purred from the entrance of the garden and Willow glanced up, stumbling
backwards under the intense gaze. She
hadn’t expected Angelus to follow her, she’d been certain that he was going to
chase after Spike, leaving her to eventually make her way back to the
mansion. But she was wrong, he was
there with those dark eyes firmly fixed on her, holding her to the spot as he
prowled closer. Raising one hand,
Angelus twirled a lock of hair that had worked loose about his finger and bowed
his head to press his lips to it.
“Evening dresses were
such foolish things,” his eyes darkened even more as his hand dropped down to
the curve of her neck, running an open palm across her shoulder before turning
his hand over and trailing the back of his fingers down her arm, making her
shiver in the cool night air. “Exposing
so much flesh,” he never stopped moving as he spoke, bowing his head so that
the word was growled out, his lips vibrating against the curve of her shoulder
and her breathing hitched slightly as he kept slowly pushing her back into the
depths of the rose garden. “The
décolletage and arms beautifully bare,” his fingers finished their slow
exploration of her arm and entwined with hers, lifting her hand up to his mouth
so that he could press a kiss against her wrist, the pulse pounding beneath his
lips. “And the skin so heated…” his
lips dragged over the pale skin of her arm, up to the crook of her elbow and
his tongue flicked out, circling the pulse point there before his lips pressed
down for a brief moment. “From dancing
and playing games…”
His lips continued
their ascent, tracing a delicate path along her arm, over her shoulder and on
to her neck. Willow closed her eyes,
deciding that she was going to blame the corset and gown, they had to be the
reason why she was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, it couldn’t have
had anything to do with the fact that Angelus was nuzzling her neck. Although
nuzzling wasn’t really the right word for what he was doing, his lips and
tongue were devouring her throat, licking and sucking against every part of the
exposed flesh, even against the gold choker she always wore. As his mouth continued its assault, Willow
felt herself falling, she was certain of that, could feel her knees giving way,
buckling under her own weight and his arm wrapped about her waist, guiding her
in her descent.
Or rather Angelus
was pulling her down, shepherding her into his lap. Never releasing his hold on her waist, his free hand momentarily dropped
to her legs, draping them across his thighs as she sat cradled against him on
the stone bench in the middle of the garden.
With a final caress of the layers of material that covered her thighs,
his hand slowly meandered back up her body.
His fingers lightly dragged across the bare skin on her arm as she
wrapped it about his broad shoulders and her other hand clung to the bicep of
the arm that held her waist. Those languid, wandering fingers of his eventually
wrapped about the back of her neck and her head lolled back, exposing her
throat to his enthusiastic mouth. Only
he pulled away and her eyes fluttered open to find his dark, unfathomable eyes
steadfastly fixed on her.
“The full moon is
the most curious thing, don’t you think?”
“Full moon?” Willow
asked as she broke his gaze, frowning slightly in confusion about how exactly
she had ended up in his lap and why she was holding him so tightly. With that
thought, she loosened her hold on his arm and tried to steady her breathing,
pushing back slightly from his ubiquitous presence. His cool fingers caressed
her cheek, drawing her attention and her struggles were forgotten as those
enigmatic eyes once more caught her gaze.
“Yes,” he jerked his
chin in the general direction of the huge, luminous moon that was high in the
night sky and Willow tilted her head slightly to stare up at it. His lips
brushed against her temple in a chaste kiss before dropping down to her ear and
she shivered at the sensation, her eyes fluttering as she tried to focus her attention
on the moon and not Angelus. Not his
mouth, nor the words he whispered against her skin as he returned his attention
to her throat. “So beautiful, so radiant. A strange light, though, so many
things look gray under moonlight and it favors only true beauty, makes it even
more luminous. Look at all these
stunning flowers, bright and full of color, but the greenery, it’s all gray…”
Maybe Willow’s eyes
were playing tricks on her, maybe it was the hypnotic sound of Angelus’ words,
or the bewitching feel of his mouth caressing her throat, or maybe he was
simply stating the truth. For as she glanced about the beautiful garden they
were in only the roses did indeed seem to hold color in the strange moonlight
that bathed the area. Nearly everything else, the leaves and stalks, were
gray. The tone and depth of gray
changed though with the colors that would have been clearly visible in
sunlight.
“And you,” Angelus
whispered, his fingers caressed her face in one long sweep from her forehead,
down over her eye and then dropping and twirling about on her cheek before
finally sweeping along the line of her jaw. It drew her attention away from the
roses and back to him, her eyes fixing on his as he continued to speak. “Do you
know how exquisite you look? Skin as
pale as milk, iridescent eyes like emeralds and a mouth,” he sighed, his thumb
brushing across her lips, catching the lower one and rolling the flesh as the
digit moved down. “A mouth that looks
like the lips are made from the sweetest and most intoxicating red wine…”
Willow was
spellbound by his words, by those dark eyes that were wantonly roaming over her
and she could see nothing else but the way the moonlight played over him.
Bringing her hand up, she caressed his cheek. His skin was as pale as hers and
his eyes were nearly black in the strange radiance of the moon. For a moment
she was lost in those surreal features, her fingers tracing the lines of his
face, two of which ran over his lips lightly. The contrast was astounding, the
pale flesh of her fingers seemed stark against the backdrop of rich color that
were his lips and then they parted, the tips of her fingers disappearing into
his mouth.
As her fingers were
suckled against, Willow’s eyes fluttered shut and she moaned softly at the feel
of his tongue sweeping over the sensitive tips. His hand dropped from her neck, down to her shoulder, tracing the
neckline of the gown and his fingers caressed the exposed flesh of her
décolletage. Opening her eyes, Willow
watched the play of his pale hand against her flesh and the brilliant blue of
the gown. Pulling her own fingers free
of his mouth, she covered his hand on her breast, marveling at the strange
sensation of his fingers moving beneath hers.
Angelus dropped his head slightly, angling so that he could brush a kiss
against the triangular flesh beneath her chin, causing her to tilt her head
back and bathe her face in the moonlight.
“And with hair as
bright and as red as the most perfect rubies,” Angelus murmured, watching the
play of light over the crimson mass that was working free of the comb. “All
wrapped up in sapphire blue…my most precious jewel.”
Rolling her head
forward, Willow fixed her eyes on his and her hand once more strayed up to
caress his face. Only this time the
allure of his lips proved too much and she brushed her own against them. It was a tentative kiss, a hesitant sweep of
her lips that would have been brief had Angelus not moved slightly, encouraging
her. Willow wasn’t certain who opened
their mouth first, or whose tongue was the first to tangle with the
others. It didn’t really matter,
nothing mattered in the strange light that bathed them except for the kiss.
It was a kiss that
continued as hands started to wander.
Perched, as she was, on top of his lap gave Willow the advantage of
height. It was Angelus who yielded to
her, or so it would seem as one of her hands tangled in his thick hair,
cradling his head as she leant over him, her tongue exploring his mouth and
tangling with his. But it was Angelus’
hand in the small of her back that instigated the rhythm of thrusts that would
increase in intensity before the night was through. With every sweep of her tongue, he would pull her in closer and
then release the pressure momentarily, only to repeat the action with the next
sweep of her tongue. His other hand was
caressing the warm pale flesh that the gown left bare, his fingers dragging
across the neckline of the gown, occasionally dipping below it to trace the top
of the corset and the soft swell of her breasts. It wasn’t only his hands that were busy.
The hand that Willow
had tangled in his hair continued to cradle his head, supporting it as she
devoured his mouth and drowned in the taste that was unique to him. But her other hand, the one that had been
clinging to him, wandered, traipsing over his cheek as it flexed and finally
dropped down to the soft silk that covered his chest. Sensitive tips ran over the smooth material, twirling and
zigzagging over the silk and the well-defined muscles of his chest that it hid
from her. Maybe he leant into the touch, or maybe the pressure of her touch was
increased as she was pulled against him.
Either way the pressure intensified and it was no longer the tips of her
fingers that stroked his chest. Instead
her hand was pressed firmly against him, twisting and turning in the silk,
pulling it open as the buttons yielded their hold. Then it was skin against skin as her hand continued to explore
his torso, brushing across hard nipples, dropping down to explore the heavy muscles
of his abdomen, eventually dipping down to brush across the solid buckle of his
belt and the soft leather of his pants that covered an achingly hard cock.
It was with that
touch that Angelus tore his mouth away from hers, attacking her throat with
vigor, nipping and sucking his way down until his mouth met with his fingers
that had tangled in the fine fabric of the gown’s décolletage. With a savage snarl the material was torn
away, taking with it the top of the fine camisole, and his mouth traversed as
much flesh as the corset would allow.
Willow buried her
fingers in his hair, tightening her embrace and holding him to her breast with
all the force that she could muster.
Somewhere in the back of her lust-fogged mind, she realized she was
grinding against him, her hip pressing against both him and her hand as she
continued to massage him through the leather of his pants. The gown was too cumbersome though and
restricted her movement, her legs almost bound together by it and the
decorative underwear she wore. But his
hands were wandering again, dragging down over the highly elaborate gown and as
a growl reverberated against her chest, the fabric of the gown was torn,
splitting it high up to her waist.
“Yes,” hissed Willow,
throwing her head back and digging her nails into Angelus’ scalp.
For a moment there
was nothing but the sound of her own cry, mingling with his unremitting growl
and the minute bouncing of the multitude of beads that had been lost when the
gown was torn, then the earth moved and she lost all contact with him. However the seclusion was only fleeting, she
was pushed from his lap, his fist tangling in the finely embroidered white
petticoat and it too was torn with a ferocity that only seemed to excite her
more. He was looming over her again,
his mouth crashing down against hers in a demanding and domineering kiss as she
fell back on the stone bench. It seemed
to be the most natural thing in the world, to spread her legs as he settled
between them and her hands wrapped about his forearms, clawing at him, trying
to pull him to her as the kiss deepened.
But Angelus was no
match for her, as his hands ran down over the tattered remains of the dress he
broke the kiss and his fingers moved between her thighs, twisting in the
delicate white cotton of the drawers and in one savage action he tore open the
crotch. There was something terribly wanton about it all and Willow might have
blamed it on the full moon or the way she was dressed or the confines of the
corset. Except she knew as she sat up
to kiss him again and her fingers fell to his belt, eagerly pulling the heavy
leather free of the buckle and yanking open the fly of his pants, that there
was no real blame. He’d followed her,
sought her out and as her fingers wrapped about his hard cock a growl of
pleasure reverberated in her mouth, his tongue delving deep into the warm
cavern, and there was a brief moment of clarity for Willow. She was wanted,
desired and at that point in time, after days of deliberation and consideration
of her position in Angelus’ world, it was all that she needed.
Wrapping his hands
about her hips, Angelus pulled her up high into his lap. It was enough to make her overbalance and
her hands once more wrapped about his forearms as her lips were torn from his
and she once more fell back against the hard stone bench. Those hands on her hips guided her, held her
fast as he entered her in one deep, hard thrust and her fingers clawed at his
arms as she bore her weight on her upper back, rolling up into the thrust,
crying out as pleasure merged with the briefest hint of pain. The heavy buckle
of his belt scraped against her thigh and tore at the fine cotton, dug into the
flesh and drew blood. While the corset,
in all its tight-laced magnificence, was applying the most delightful pressure
so that with every ardent thrust Angelus made the intensity was increased to
dizzying heights.
She could hardly
breathe and the world became nothing more than surreal sensation. The feel of Angelus plunging into her time
and time again, his lips dragging over the heated exposed flesh of her breast
and the rough stone beneath her. Her
nails dug into the back of his neck as she held on, held him to her under the
moonlight, surrounded by roses whose perfume hung heavily in the air and
combined with sweat, earth and the faintest trace of blood. Whimpers and moans merged with growls and
animalistic grunts, rendering the otherwise peaceful night air. Rolling her head back as she met his zealous
thrusts, Willow gasped for air and ground her hips against him, the boning of
the corset digging into her flesh as she clawed at him and she screamed.
The long cry of
pleasure eventually dwindled away to a gasping keen that was short lived. Angelus moved his fingers down, finding her
clit and relentlessly rubbing against it, ensuring that with every deep, hard
thrust he made her pleasure was once more built up. It didn’t take much before she was crying out again, her muscles
clamping down against his cock, rippling about him as he reared up above her,
throwing his head back and roaring at the full moon as he came. He continued to grind against her, each
sharp jerk of his hips accompanied by nothing more than an animalistic grunt as
he spilled himself deep in her warmth, and Willow couldn’t breathe. The corset,
combined with exertions, was proving too much especially as Angelus crashed
down on her, collapsing against her.
The struggle against
him this time was real as she gasped for breath, her hands uselessly pushing at
his bulk. But his weight pinned her to
the stone bench and the bright moonlight started to fade, the colors of the
garden being eclipsed by a darkness that was starved of air. As the darkness wrapped itself about her,
Willow’s eyes locked on Angelus’ in the dying light and they were feral yellow,
demon eyes in a demon face and the demon was lifting off her, its hands clawing
at the suffocating corset. The pain was
prominent as his hands dug under the tight confines of the boning and she cried
out in relief as it was partially torn open to the waist, the tiny little
decorative pearls popping off and the various hooks and loops being destroyed
under the force of it all. Taking a
deep restorative breath, the discomfort was forgotten as Angelus lowered his
head and latched onto one of her exposed nipples, suckling the hard bud. It was
all Willow could do to pant, greedily sucking in the air she’d been denied, and
run her fingers through his hair as he continued to lavish attention on her
breasts, his softening cock slipping from her.
She couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that, in a comfortable
silence that was filled with intimate caresses, but the moon was close to dying
when Angelus finally pulled away from her, only to gather her up in his arms
and carry her through the garden, back to the mansion.
With the greatest of
care, Angelus set her on her feet in her room and removed the remnants of the
gown. The bright material pooled about
her feet and his fingers made quick work of the corset and underwear. Naked as she was, she didn’t care, quickly
divesting Angelus of his clothes as easily as he had hers, their mouths
constantly melding together or wandering over their bodies. As he laid her back on her bed, his mouth
sought out the scratch on her thigh and he kissed it, his tongue laving it
clean before he crawled up over her, his mouth actively seeking out hers.
It was three hours
later that Willow watched in disappointment as Angelus got out of her bed, his
fingers tracing a path from her neck down to her fingertips, just like he had
every night he was with her. He was leaving her again, undoubtedly walking away
to seek out Spike. But this time it was
different, Angelus stopped short of the door and turned back to her.
"You can come
with me," he stated softly, his brown eyes capturing her green ones.
"If you want to."
Willow stared at him
for a moment before rolling over and turning away from his unrelenting gaze.
WWWWW