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Sunlight beamed through the stained glass, casting the room
in dark shades of red, blue and green, merging and overlapping to form a myriad
of colors. Muted rays danced across the floor, catching Willow's eye as she watched
from her bed. She was as lost in the
swirls of color that decorated the room as she was in her thoughts of Angelus,
who had come like a thief in the night to evade her dreams and her body,
claiming the physical vessel and making his possession of mind, body and soul
complete. Then he’d simply left and
she’d woken alone except for the bracelet at the end of the bed, a confirmation
that the aches in her body were not just the result of some bizarre nightmare.
And now, hours after that first penetration and hours after
she’d climbed into the shower to try to relieve the ache that filled her, she
was still alone. At least she thought
it was hours, her hair was still damp and her body still contained a few tender
muscles, but she couldn’t be certain. Her room held no timepieces, Angelus had forbidden them and she’d
never had a watch to begin with. In the
mansion there was no time, just Angelus and passing shades of light. Like that
which flooded her room at the moment, the intensity of which led her to believe
it was late afternoon at least.
Time was all part of Angelus’ game, Willow was convinced of
that. It was something he played with,
altered to suit his needs and confuse her, so that he became the only certainty
in her life. But the lack of definite
time also gave Willow freedom, she was no longer controlled by the restraints
of the passing hours, tasks weren’t limited to a certain period of time because
time itself no longer existed. If she
felt tired, as she had after her shower, she could sleep without worrying about
what time it was as it no longer mattered and wasn’t relevant. All that mattered was Angelus, he was her
time, her keeper and, after last night, her lover.
Lover, it was a strange word to associate with him. They had certainly engaged in the sexual act
that was meant to be a physical demonstration of love, but it wasn’t love. Willow wasn’t even certain it was lust or
whatever else drove men to want a woman.
But then again, Angelus wasn’t a man, he was a demon, a vampire and her
lover. It all came back to that one
word ~ lover. He had certainly been a
talented lover, at times tender and passionate, something she hadn’t expected. Truth be told, she expected him to be
brutal, to take his pleasure and not give a damn about hers. But he hadn’t done that, he had taken so
much care, time and time again pushing her to that precipice of pleasure and
then letting her fall over, allowing himself to fall with her. He’d made her into some wanton creature
that’d clawed at him and screamed his name until she could think of nothing
else. And then he’d left her, had
gotten out of the bed and walked away from her. Lovers didn’t do that, they
stayed, wrapped in each others arms, whispering words of affection. But they weren’t those sort of lovers, would
probably never become like that.
Certainly not, Willow mused, when Angelus was so anxious to
leave her and go straight to Spike. She
remembered their murmured voices, undoubtedly Angelus had been telling Spike
exactly what he’d done. Maybe they’d laughed, maybe they hadn’t. She couldn’t remember it clearly, she’d been
far too exhausted, the only lucid memory she had was Angelus leaving to go to
the blond.
Tossing the bed linen aside, Willow sat up and stretched,
her arms and legs straightening out in front of her under the shadows of the
multi-colored light as it played over her pale flesh. She wiggled her toes and fingers, as if attempting to catch the
colors, before giving up and standing to bathe herself in the strange display
of illumination. One hand reached out,
a single finger making contact with the sun warmed glass and she marveled at
how different it felt to Friday night, the night of the storm. She should have felt guilty about her
actions that night, masturbating with Angelus indubitably watching her, and she
had. But now, now it was nothing.
Leaning against the glass, Willow silently berated herself.
She should have felt guilt for a number of things, especially last night, but
she didn’t. There was regret and pain,
but no guilt. Guilt was an emotion of
culpability, but she had done nothing wrong, she had merely done what she
needed to do to ensure her friends safety.
However, there was a small nagging thought at the back of her mind, the
thought that would later become the catalyst of guilt, she had enjoyed it,
gained physical pleasure in a way that she never really believed possible and
in an act that she had convinced herself that she would hate. Her fingers dragged over the warmed surface
again as she turned away, distracted by a muffled sound in the bathroom. Or at least Willow thought it was coming
from the bathroom but, as she wandered across barefoot to the door, she
realized it wasn’t
The door that led to Angelus’ bedroom was wide open and
even though the space of the bathroom separated the two doorways, Willow had a
clear view of the vampire’s massive bed.
More precisely, she had a clear view to the two occupants of the bed and
what she saw rooted her to the spot on the floor. Even if she wanted to she
couldn’t have moved. Angelus was
reclining on his bed, comfortably resting against the headboard and huge
pillows, his naked body seemed to glisten in that strange mellow light that
also filled Willow’s room. It danced
over muscles as they flexed, his bicep bulging slightly as his hand wrapped
about Spike’s neck, drawing him down for a kiss as his childe knelt over
him. Their mouths joined and Angelus
ran his thumb across the blond’s jaw, gently caressing the sharp line as the
kiss deepened.
Willow’s breath hitched as she watched. There was such a
contrast in the individuals before her.
Spike was smaller, but wiry and hard, his muscles well defined and
sharply cut. Whereas Angelus was larger
and his body, while heavy with muscles, lacked the angularity. There were also the different shades of
hair, blond differed from brunette, blue eyes were matched with brown and pale
hands with nails that had chipped black polish moved across slightly darker
flesh, dropping down to pinch a dusky nipple as the kiss was broken.
Spike pulled away, his eyes closing as he nuzzled his way
down his sire’s throat, nipping at the muscular column and the dark haired
vampire rolled his head back, exposing himself to his childe’s
ministrations. A soft rumble of
laughter left the elder vampire as Spike continued to drag his mouth down, only
to mutate into a groan of pleasure as the blond’s mouth closed about one of his
nipples, sucking the hard bud and laving it with his tongue. Angelus involuntarily arched up into his
childe’s mouth, his fingers massaging the younger vampire’s hair, urging him to
continue.
Not that Spike needed any encouragement, his hands were
steadily moving down over the older vampire’s torso, nails scraping the flesh
hard enough to be pleasurable, but not hard enough to leave marks. But it was when one hand wrapped about
Angelus’ cock that his sire’s groan became a purr of indulgence. The blond gave the dark nipple one last bite
and dropped his head down, slowly kissing every inch of exposed flesh as his mouth
traveled south and his hand continued to firmly pump the dark haired vampire’s
cock. As his talented fingers once more
dropped down to the thick base, Spike kissed the weeping head, his lips parting
and his tongue flicked out, lapping at the slit. Beneath him, Angelus bucked his hips, murmuring words of ardor.
Lowering his head, Spike wrapped his lips about swollen
head of his sire’s cock, exerting enough pressure to make the dark haired
vampire moan in anticipation. Or maybe
the moan was the result of Spike’s other hand fondling his sire’s balls, either
way, it didn’t really matter as Spike began to suck on the throbbing
shaft. But he didn’t engulf it in one
smooth action, instead Spike was teasing and tantalizing, sucking against his
sire with enough force to pull the other man’s cock in an inch deeper and then
he’d slacken off and let it seemingly slip from his mouth, only reapply the
suction and pull the elder vampire’s cock in deeper to his mouth.
The teasing stroke was repeated time and time again, until
there was no definite shift in the activity and it all became one fluid and
continuous motion. Their hips undulated
in a matched rhythm, Spike grinding against the rumpled bed linen that was
tangled about his sire’s legs as Angelus thrust up into his mouth. It was
mutual satisfaction, a balanced act of physical pleasure, but then something
changed.
Spike deftly thrust a long finger into his sire’s puckered
entrance, pushing in ever deeper and angling his finger until he was rubbing
against the prostate. Below him,
Angelus squirmed, the dark haired vampire’s measured thrusts became more
frantic as his face contorted into a grimace of carnal bliss. Another finger was added, pressing even
harder and Angelus roared, his hips jerking, thrusting deep into his childe’s
eager mouth as he came.
However, as his frantic thrusting ended and he once more
fell silent, Angelus was far from still.
In one fluid motion, he hauled the blond up over him, turning so that
they lay face-to-face and their mouths met once more. This time it was Spike who moaned, a sound of pleasure that
became muffled by the kiss, as his sire’s hand wrapped about his painfully hard
cock. The blond had been agonizingly
close to coming and, as he desperately clung to the elder vampire, thrusting
against his hand, it wasn’t going to take much to push him into his own
climax. Perhaps it was the added
physical sensation of Angelus wrapping a strong arm about him, or the whispered
words of tenderness that they shared, Spike didn’t know and certainly didn’t
care as he threw his head back, exposing his throat to the elder vampire’s
mouth. There was a moment of stillness,
the room fell silent until it was shattered by Spike’s cry of satisfaction and
he thrust hard against the bulk of Angelus, crushing their bodies together as
his sire’s embrace tightened and his lips continued their fervent caressing of
the blond’s neck and shoulder.
Never ceasing his ministrations or the whispered words of endearment,
Angelus fixed his eyes on Willow and for one terrifying moment she couldn’t do
anything. She couldn’t move, couldn’t
look away, couldn’t even breathe. Then
she took a deep, ragged breath and the spell was broken. Under the intimidating and steadfast gaze of
those unfathomable brown eyes, she took a step back, turned on her heel and ran
back to the safety of her bed, jumping in and pulling the covers back up over
her head.
There was no doubt in Willow’s mind, as one hand
immediately flew to her heavy gold choker and she found comfort in the
darkness, that she and Angelus were not lovers, would probably never be lovers
in the true sense of the word.
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