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Willow sprawled across her bed, her eyes slowly drooping
shut. Spike had woken her earlier in his
usual tormenting way and it seemed that this week his choice of implement was
feathers, with which he’d mercilessly tickled her feet. At least it was better
than last week when he’d taken the greatest delight in sucking on her toes or
fingers. She groaned and covered her
head with a pillow at the memory of one particular morning when she’d been
startled awake by her own moans only to find her fingers firmly held between
his smirking lips and his tongue doing things to the digits that she was quite
sure wasn’t legal. It had been so
mortifying that she’d ventured to complain about his behavior to Angelus, who’d
only laughed. Throwing the pillow aside
and turning over, Willow yawned, she supposed that she would simply have to put
up with Spike’s idiosyncrasies and then grimaced as she realized that she
really didn’t have a choice.
Stifling another yawn, her eyes once more fell shut. It was Monday and Willow had school in a few
hours, but she would have been quite content to spend the whole day in bed to
recover from her exhausting weekend. A
weekend that had been excessively weird and it had all started with the
ravishment in the rose garden under the full moon. She’d let Angelus walk away from her, leave her to go to Spike
without accepting his offer and she’d expected that she would be punished for
that.
So it was no surprise when she’d woken late Saturday
morning to find a cold breakfast laid out for her in her sitting room with her
school bag and the book of Gaelic poems and stories sitting next to the
breakfast tray. The day had been laid
out in front of her, or so she’d thought, and so she’d eaten, showered and sat
down to methodically do her schoolwork.
When it had all been done, she’d turned her attention to the book,
flipping through it, while her weekly lessons allowed her to pick out one or
two words and phrases, for the most part it remained a mystery to her so she
amused herself with the detailed paintings that accompanied the poems and
stories. Which was how Angelus found
her when he’d opened her door and asked why she was staying in her rooms.
And for the first time that Willow was aware of, her doors
were left unlocked and wide open. She’d
wandered out, hesitant and unsure of what was expected, especially with her
newfound freedom. The trepidation was
short-lived as Spike hollered at her to move her arse because she was holding
up the next round of cards. The
camaraderie of the previous night returned and they’d settled into an easy
afternoon of companionship, playing cards while the two vampires discussed
their plans for the evening as Willow listened.
Of course the plans had included Willow and midnight found
them all in a bar in a coastal town, half way between Sunnydale and LA. The bar itself had been huge and teeming
with people, some had been dancing while a band played on stage and others
played pool and drank. But the
strangest of all had been the table that Angelus had led her to, a massive
round table, which had nearly every seat taken, bar two, one of which the dark haired
vampire took and dragged her down to his lap while Spike sat in the other. There had been murmurs of greeting and demon
faces flashed momentarily, causing Willow to shrink back into Angelus’ embrace. It had struck her as absurd, a sort of
bastardization of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. As the night wore on she had often been
whisked away from the table by Spike, when things got heated in the discussion
or when Angelus deemed it unsuitable for her to be present, and the blond would
drag her onto the dance floor or play pool with her, more often than not
hustling the various patrons.
Willow grimaced as she once more stretched in her bed,
almost asleep again. Spike had taken
great delight in sending her back to Angelus with a slap on her arse, hard
enough for it to truly hurt, and as she’d settled herself back into his vacant
chair she had watched the blond chatting up some local girls, disappearing with
them only to return some twenty minutes later alone, with a wicked grin on his
face and a wink in her general direction.
So the night had continued, she’d alternately listened to the business
of the vampire world and been sent away with Spike, playing pool and trying to
avoid the smoke from his cigarettes. By the early hours of the morning she’d
sat next to Angelus, tired and exhausted, and as one of the many vampires in
from the circle began an argument, she’d taken it as her cue to go back to
Spike. But Angelus had had other plans
and his hand on her thigh kept her in the chair next to him. His face had been nothing more than a mask
of annoyed boredom, the vampire’s rant meant nothing to him as probably did the
vampire himself, but his fingers were moving and had slowly crept up her thigh,
his thumb deftly brushing across the silk of her panties. She’d tried to stop him, crossing her legs,
but it had only served to increase the contact.
Biting her lip, Willow moaned at the memory and once more
the pillow covered her head. It had
been embarrassing, he’d played her, teased her with his hand while he sat there
discussing business, talking of some higher authority that she’d never heard
of. Later, after the meeting had
finished, when the bar was practically empty, he’d dragged her into a darkened
corner, torn off her panties and taken her hard and fast. Not long after that, while the sweat still
clung to her skin, they'd returned to the mansion she’d slept until late Sunday
afternoon. The few hours that remained
of that day had been spent with Angelus, dining with him, bathing him and then
spending hours upon hours in her bed with him until he’d left her, dragging his
cool fingers over her hot and sweaty flesh as he got out of the bed, early in
the morning and he’d once more repeated his invitation for her to go with him.
Willow snuggled up under the warmth of her quilt. She’d turned her back to him as she had on
Friday and he’d said nothing more.
Sighing, she let her mind go blank, the weekend had been bizarre but it
was in the past and she didn’t want to dwell on it any longer, instead she was
quite happy to be seduced by the sweet sanctuary of sleep.
But somebody else wasn’t.
“Get up,” Spike roared, snatching the bedclothes away. Willow whimpered and drew her legs up.
“Five more min…” Willow’s entreaty was cut off as Spike
hauled her up by the arm and he shook her.
“Okay, okay, I’m up.”
“If you aren’t downstairs in five minutes,” Spike stated,
releasing his hold and she dropped back down on the bed, yawning again as he
turned his back to her, sauntering out of the bedroom. “Then I’m going to give you a hiding and you
won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
Willow rubbed at her eyes and vaguely wondered if she could
get away with going to Angelus, crawling into bed with him or wherever he was, offering
herself up in an attempt to get out of training with Spike. Grimacing, she decided against it and
quickly dressed in her usual training gear, wandering out of her rooms to go
downstairs. She was still yawning as
she made her way down the stairs and before her foot hit the bottom step, she
was knocked off her feet and sent flying.
“How many times have I told you,” Spike snarled at her,
standing over her fallen form. “You’ve
got to think and be alert.”
“And how often am I going to be attacked in my own home?”
demanded Willow, gingerly sitting up and wincing at the ache in her lower back.
“This is Angelus’ home,” he stated, turning his back on
her. “More often than you think.”
Reluctantly, she got to her feet, brushing down her
clothes, warily eyeing off the blond as he circled her. “What’s that meant to mean?”
“There’s always a threat, love,” Spike stated, standing in
front of her, one of his hands strayed up to brush at the circles under her
eyes. The hand cupped, readying to
strike, only Willow brought up her arm, blocking the blow and slamming her open
palm up into his chin as she threw forward her body weight, sending Spike to
the floor. Chuckling, he flipped back
up to his feet and grinned at her, once more returning to his circling. “Good girl.”
Their session continued with Willow landing on the floor
more times than she cared to admit. It
was starting to take its toll though, her body ached and her ability to react,
to interpret his moves, slowed.
Eventually, as she was once more thrown to the floor, she gave up,
preferring to lie back on the stone floor rather than get to her feet and have
to go another round with Spike.
"Why are you still down there?" he asked
offhandedly, bending over her, his hands on his knees and Willow continued to
lie still, staring at the ceiling, her back aching and a dull roar in her ears.
"I was just thinking..." she sighed and smirked
slightly at the thought of her next words. "That ceiling really could do
with another coat of paint..."
Angelus' chuckle interrupted her focus on her various aches
and she scrambled up off the floor, pulling at the tight crop top that she
wore. He was sitting on the stairs,
dressed in only his leather pants, smoking a cigarette and watching them both.
Or rather he was watching Willow.
"That's enough for today," he stated quietly,
standing up and walking back up the stairs. "Willow, have a shower."
Risking a quick glance at Spike, she followed the dark
haired vampire up the stairs and into her rooms. He was sprawled across her bed, lying on his stomach and she
arched an eyebrow as she continued into the bathroom, fully expecting him to
join her in the shower. Only he didn't.
Angelus was still lounging on her bed when she came back, wrapped in a towel,
but he was on his back so he could watch her.
As she met his gaze she shifted nervously, she couldn’t help but wonder
at what he wanted. Most mornings he had
very little to do with her, it was always Spike who woke her and ordered her
about. It was slightly ironic though,
not so long ago she had thought of actively seeking him out, but now he was in
her room…well, it was unnerving.
Turning her back to him, she picked up the blue, soft lace underwear and
pulled on her knickers, hitching them up under the towel before letting it drop
so she could put on her bra. As her
fingers fiddled with the back clasp, Angelus shifted on the bed behind her,
moving up to sit on the end, and his fingers brushed hers away so he could do
up the clasp.
One hand trailed down the length of her spine, the other
moved to rest on her stomach and Angelus spun her so that she faced him. For a moment his eyes flashed gold and he
dipped his head, his tongue flicking out to trace a wet path from the top of
her knickers to her navel. Possessively
one of his hands came to rest on the soft swell of her stomach, his eyes
meeting her bewildered gaze.
"Not much longer," he murmured, his fingers
massaging her gently, warming against her skin. He smiled a lazy, lascivious
smile. "I could taste it last night...that soft sweet hint of blood mixing
with you. Not much longer at all..."
Frowning, Willow twisted in his hands, trying to step away
from him but he growled and stood up, pulling her in flush against him as he
smiled down at her. The smile disappeared as his fingers ran through her hair
and down to caress her throat, brushing across the gold choker.
"Don't fight me, Willow," he murmured, reveling
in the soft skin broken by the solid confines of her choker. "Get dressed and
go to school...come here directly afterwards."
With that he left her. Sitting down on the end of the bed,
Willow covered her stomach, grimacing at the sharp stab of pain that she often
suffered during her period. She didn’t
want to dwell on it, what this afternoon would hold for her, instead she got
dressed, ignored the breakfast that Spike had brought her and went to school.
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