LA, Leather Pants, Hellfire And The Roof Of A Desoto
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Spike wandered along
the pavement, smoking a cigarette and reflecting on his unlife in
Sunnyhell.
It was crap.
He’d spent the
earlier part of the evening sitting on a park bench watching all the little
happy meals walk past, young, pretty and weak. Silly little chits who
were stupid enough to walk alone, smiling their flirty little smiles at the
demon and having no idea how tempting they were to him. A few months ago
he would have flirted back, teasing them, making them want him and then he'd
give them a hicky they’d never forget. Well, actually they wouldn't have
the opportunity to remember, they'd be dead. That was then, this was now,
all he could do was look, scowl and muse over his past conquests.
This was his life
now, defanged and reluctantly involved with the Slayer and her little support
group. Shaking his head, he took another drag on his cigarette as he
glanced down the darkened street. The Wolf's van was parked out the front
of Giles apartment complex and Spike’s features formed a half snarl.
The Wolf had been
back for a month now and after a week of tears, meaningful conversations and
the encouragement of the group, Oz and Willow were once again in a
relationship. Ever since then he'd noticed that Willow had turned into a
complete bitch – with a temper that could rival any psychotic and suffering
constant fatigue. Whatever the hell was
happening with her, though, she was keeping it to herself. Truth be told, Spike thought she was a fool
to take the wolf back, he’d hurt her once and he would do it again - it was in
his werewolf nature to want a mate of his own kind and it was only a matter of
time before he'd leave for another bitch.
Spike leant against
the van, finishing his cigarette and musing over his thoughts. That's
when he heard it, the soft grunts and groans typical of carnal delight.
Turning his head slightly he listened, smirking as he felt the van move under
his shoulder and the moans of the Wolf became louder. Turning his gaze
back to Giles, he continued to listen - it had been too long since he’d
gotten his leg over. Sure, Harmony hadn't been his Dark Goddess but what
the hell she was still a fuck. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the
sounds, on the passion in the Wolf's pleadings, and then he smiled at the soft
moans of Willow.
An unwarranted image
flashed through his mind and Spike could clearly see her, could almost feel her
wrapped around him, writhing beneath him as he fucked her, moaning for
him. Biting into the side of his cheek, he again thought that it had been
far too long and Oz begging Willow to come interrupted his thoughts. The sound
he heard next made him raise an eyebrow. Focusing solely on Willow's
moans, he started to smirk - she was faking, the Wolf wasn't man enough for
her. He rolled his head forward and suppressed a chuckle as he heard the
Wolf practically howl as he came.
"That would
explain the moods," Spike muttered to himself as he flicked the cigarette
butt away and banged on the side of the van. "You two get a bloody
room!"
Spike didn’t attempt
to hold back the laughter as they scrambled about in the van, muttering
obscenities. He walked away, heading up the path to the Watcher’s apartment
complex, Giles had wanted him back at 7.30, it was now closer to 8pm and the
frustration of the man was evident as soon as Spike opened the door.
"At last,"
exclaimed Giles as Spike sauntered into the living room. "Well, now
all we need is Willow."
"She's
coming," Spike exaggerated his pronunciation of the word, just as a
flustered and disheveled Willow dashed through the door. Spike grinned at
her, causing her to turn a brighter shade of red, before leaning in to whisper
in her ear. "Can I offer you a cigarette, pet?"
Smirking, Spike
turned away from Willow's seething glare and plopped down on the couch, setting
his feet on the coffee table. "So what is the deal this time?"
"Angel,"
Giles began, only to be cut off by Spike groaning and rolling his head back on
the couch. Ignoring the vampire’s dramatics, Giles continued.
"Angel believes he's acquired a laptop that belonged to an associate of
the Council. I need you two to go to LA
tonight to pick it up."
"What?"
Spike asked incredulously. Beside him,
Willow began to protest, but Giles cut them both off.
"If the assumptions
are correct, it could be a valuable asset to us. The reputation of the
man in question is phenomenal - he was brilliant and highly committed to his
duties. His files could be of great significance." Giles said
elatedly. Spike stared at the Watcher, only Giles could get this excited
over the possibility of knowledge. "The problem is the computer has
a complex security system - Angel can't even get into it. Therefore,
Willow is the best person to go, considering her technical knowledge."
"You mean
hacking ability." Willow stated, joining Spike on the couch and staring
dejectedly at his boots on the coffee table.
"Why do I have
to go?" asked Spike, sounding like a sullen child. He knew exactly why,
the Wolf had a gig, Xander was busy shagging as was the Slayer. Also, he
had the ability to drive - something relatively few of the Slayerettes appeared
to have mastered.
"It could be
dangerous," Giles replied.
"So send the
Slayer," Spike stated. “After all,
it is her sacred duty and the bloody machine’s for her benefit, not mine.”
"Spike, you
could at least try to be a little more enthusiastic," Giles sighed. He had
his reasons for not sending Buffy and didn't feel it necessary to share them
with Spike or Willow.
"What?
You want me to fake my enthusiasm?" Spike asked in wide-eyed innocence,
brushing his arm against Willow's and causing her to jump. "That
just wouldn't be right. I mean faking is just a terrible act of
deception."
Giles frowned at the
vampire who was attempting to stifle his laughter. Shaking his head,
Giles took a deep breath.
"Go now,"
he ordered, his patience wearing thin. "Angel is expecting you there
by ten."
***
Spike eased himself
into the drivers' seat of the Desoto and waited for Willow, she was using Giles
bathroom.
He loved that car;
it was part of him. When he’d first realized he could still maim, damage
and destroy non living creatures, he had gone straight to Harmony and her
little air headed cronies and savagely beaten the crap out of every single one
of them before staking the lot. Of course Harmony had begged for
forgiveness, he'd repented and let her service him...then he'd staked
her. All that was months ago. The Desoto and the sweet feeling of
revenge were the only things that he took with him from that brutal and bloody
night - and he’d been grateful for the car ever since. Although when he
had first seen it he was absolutely disgusted and cursed that he'd staked
Harmony so quickly - he should have made her suffer for the damage to his
beloved car.
The paintwork had
been scratched and some of the panels were dented, she had put fluffy cow
design car seat covers on because the original leather seats had been slashed,
and a silly comic character hung from the rear vision mirror that had been
covered with old photos of her. The tires were low as was the oil and the
thing that had made him want to torture her even more were the cassettes that
littered the interior and were jammed in the cassette player. It was the
type of music that could be constituted as the foulest and cruelest form of
torture that even the most sadistic demons would not use - sugary sweet
pop. Damn it, she should have been doused with Holy Water and left to
slowly burn to dust for what she had done to his car.
Lighting a
cigarette, Spike shifted slightly and watched as Willow walked down the path a
frown marring her face.
When he'd first
bought the car back Giles had complained about the "ugly piece of
Americana", but he’d accepted it and somehow Spike became Willow's
personal chauffer. For months he had picked her up from her dorm and taken her
wherever she needed to go before driving her back. It was something that
Willow had greatly appreciated. Gratitude she displayed one day when she
"stole" the Desoto. Of course Spike wasn’t privy to her plans
and when he’d discovered the car missing, it drove him to a fit of rage that he
took out on any and every demon he could find and the rage continued for a
week. One week before he walked out to find it parked out the front of
Giles’. At first it had been hard to
recognize it as his Desoto, the bodywork was no longer dinted and had been
resprayed, and the once scratchy black paint covered windows had been replaced
with black tinted ones. The interior had also been refurbished with
cherry red leather that was soft and supple. But the thing that he adored
and truly appreciated the most was the six stack CD, with eight speakers wired
through out the car it was like having surround sound. Although nothing
was ever said, he knew it had to be Willow's work, she was the only one in the
little group that he really associated with. The rest put up with
him.
Sure, Spike and
Giles had necessarily bonded through their living conditions however had he said
that he wanted to live in the Desoto, he was sure that Giles would have been
deliriously happy. It was Willow who’d spent hours chatting to him.
Although at first he had teased her and tried to discourage her - it didn't
work. She'd chat, he'd listen, one day he started to talk back and the next
thing he knew he was looking forward to seeing her. Damn. He'd look
forward to seeing her smile, hearing her voice, her soft giggle. They
became the terrible twosome, as thick as thieves, everyone else in the group
was paired up so it was natural for them to fall in together but Spike would
never really admit to how much Willow had grown on him, nor that she was quite
easily lead astray, which he’d enjoyed doing on a number of occasions.
For months they lived in each other's pocket, always together while doing their
parts in the fight against evil.
Willow opened the
passenger door and sat down. Fastening her seatbelt, she crossed her arms
and stared straight ahead.
"Let's go
then," Spike said, turning over the motor.
Of course that was
before the Wolf's return. After that she had stopped laughing, stopped
giggling, stopped smiling and eventually stopped talking. She wasn't
happy and Spike hated it. When she had asked his honest opinion about
getting back with Oz, he had been blunt and said she would be a fool. He
really had to work on his tact.
"So,"
Spike let the word roll around in the silence that had settled in the car for
the past ten minutes. "How's the Wolf?"
"Oz is
fine," replied Willow, still staring out the window.
"You
know," Spike lit up a cigarette. "If he isn't meeting your needs you
really should say something to him."
"Wah...what?"
she looked at him incredulously. "What are you talking about?"
"Well tonight's
little performance in the van obviously left you unsatisfied," Spike took
a long drag on the cigarette and shot the disgruntled redhead a quick
look. "I mean look at you - you're crawling out of your skin with
need, wound up so tight you're about to go crazy."
"I’m not going
to discuss this with you..." Willow shook her head in disgust. She’d
been horrified when she realized that he had been listening to them.
"God it's none of your business anyway. I can't believe
you...you...you...well I can't believe you did it - you listened while we
had...you know what I mean."
"What? I
only caught your non-Oscar winning performance," Spike smirked before
starting to imitate the sounds she had been making, his face twisting in a mock
of passion. Willow stared at him before turning bright red as she
realized what he was talking about.
"I am not
having this conversation with you," stated Willow, turning away from the
still moaning vampire.
"It's only
going to get worse, you know. You have to tell him - do you want to go
through life unsatisfied?" he sobered up, part of him enjoyed making her
squirm and blush, but part of him wanted to shake some sense into her, and all
of those parts just wanted to see her smile again. "I mean you're a
passionate young women and you deserve better than that."
"I am not
having this conversation with you," she repeated, keeping her gaze fixed
on the passenger window, vowing to herself if he said sex she would just die.
"Sex is an
important part of a relationship," Spike took another drag on his
cigarette.
"I am not
having this conversation with you," Willow groaned and sank down in the
seat, bringing a hand up to cover her face - he'd said sex. Spike exhaled the
smoke and continued.
"Can I ask you
a question?" Without waiting for her reply, he asked anyway. "Have
you ever had an orgasm with him?"
"I am NOT
having this conversation with you," Willow stated once more, her face
turning an intense shade of red. Spike looked at her and opened his mouth
to say something. "NO! No more, it isn't any of your business and I
am not having this conversation with you. Not now, not ever."
To reinforce that
fact, she leant forward and turned up the stereo so loud that it made further
conversation impossible. Spike continued to smoke his cigarette.
***
Spike glanced up at
the familiar door of “Angel Investigations”. He didn't want to go in
there and face his sire, but he didn't have a choice. As they had walked
from the car, parked some five blocks away, he had tried to talk Willow into
blowing off their responsibilities and hit the LA nightclubs. She’d
answered him by glaring her disapproval. Stubbing out his cigarette, he
followed Willow's lithe figure through the door.
"Willow!"
Angel exclaimed as he saw her. He moved forward to envelop the redhead in
a hug, scowling at Spike over her head.
"Angel,"
she pulled back from his arms to smile at the dark haired vampire.
"You're looking well. Actually, er, you look like you usually
do...but I haven't seen you for so long, you don't look any different but it’s
good to see you...you know, not in a pile of ashes kind of way...so I guess
saying you look well is the right thing to say, even though you are a vampire
and quite literally dead..."
"It's nice to
see you again, Willow," said Angel breaking through her gibberish.
Spike still hadn't moved from the doorway, his face plastered with a mixture of
boredom and hatred.
"So, you have a
laptop that is presenting problems?" asked Willow and Angel nodded,
leading her over to a desk. "Well we are here to pick it up."
"Didn't Giles
tell you?"
"Tell us what,
peaches?" Spike finally spoke moving to stand a few feet from the desk
they were at.
"I'm hoping
that there may be some information on a Grestal, a demon we’re currently trying
to stop. I need anything you can find on it. That's how we got the
computer in the first place - there were all sorts of whispers about it,"
Angel stated as Willow sat down in front of the small computer. "If
you could find any information and leave a hard copy of whatever you come
across, I'd be grateful."
"Well that
shouldn't be too hard. I'll do a file search regarding the demons name
and just work on opening those files. The rest can wait until we get back
to Sunnydale...unless you need anything else?" asked Willow.
"No, no, just
those files. Look, I have to go, make yourself at home," he said to
Willow, immediately dismissing Spike. "If the phone rings, the machine can
get it. Unfortunately I'm not sure when I'll be back, but if you finish
and want to head off, just pull the door shut behind you."
"Oh,
okay," Willow had been hoping to catch up with him a bit more, but it was
obvious that he was busy. "Well, I'll do what I can."
"Thanks,
Willow," said Angel with a half smile as he stood up. Walking away
from the desk, he frowned at Spike before dropping his voice so that Willow
couldn't hear him. "Stay with her, anything happens and I'll let the
crack of dawn kiss your ass goodbye."
"Yeah, love you
too," Spike replied, a cold sarcasm creeping into his voice as he watched
his sire walk out the door. He looked around the dingy little office and
let out a sigh of boredom. Willow was already busy with the laptop, her
fingers clicking across the keys, a look of concentration on her face.
"So how long is this going to take?"
"Hopefully not
long - especially if you don't interrupt by asking me questions every five
minutes," said Willow, not once taking her eyes from the small
screen. Spike mimicked her silently, his face twisting in imitation
before he sat down at the desk usually occupied by Cordy. Being bored he
did the only thing possible - he started to rummage through her drawers.
Willow glanced up. "What are you doing?"
"What does it
look like?"
Willow closed her
eyes for a moment and took a deep calming breath. "Aren't you hungry
or something? I'm sure Angel won't mind if you helped yourself."
"Fine,"
Spike pushed himself away from Cordy's desk and headed into the
apartment. He didn't care to go heat some blood and feed, he'd rather
snoop around Angel's abode - see if he could find anything interesting and he
did. Some fifteen minutes later, he re-emerged with a mug of warm blood,
a wicked grin and a plan. He sat down in a chair opposite Willow.
"Finished yet?"
Willow had her
elbows resting on the desk, her face buried in her hands, thumbs rubbing at her
temple.
"I’ve managed
to open the few files that can help Angel," she murmured. "But
this thing is going to take ages to work out…each file seems to have a
different password."
"How long is
'ages'?" Spike asked, carefully placing his full mug of blood on the desk.
"At least a few days," Willow removed her head from her hands and
began to close down the computer. Spike watched in silence until it was
safely packed away and Willow had resumed her seat.
"We should go
then," he suggested and Willow nodded.
"No point
hanging around, I'll write Angel a note," Willow stated and Spike watched
her carefully, smirking at the childish happy face she stuck on the bottom of
the note. Standing up, he glanced from Willow, to the mug of blood, and
back to Willow. Slowly, he moved his hand to the mug and struck it with enough
force to send it flying into Willow's lap, spilling the contents all down her
front. She jumped up out of the chair.
"SPIKE!"
she screamed at him, pulling her bloodied top away from her body.
"Great, just fantastic. You did that on purpose!"
"Me?
Waste good pigs blood? Not likely. It was an accident," Spike
feigned innocence as he took hold of her hand and led her down into Angel's
apartment. "Come on, you can borrow something...I think leather
would suit you."
Willow was about to
protest when she felt the blood leaking through to her underwear, making her
squirm. < Oh, this is so revolting! I am going to kill him.
> She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she saw a pair of leather
pants and a black silk shirt laid out on the bed.
"You planned
this!"
"Come on,
pet. I am not wasting a night in LA. Either get changed or I'll do
it for you." Spike said, not denying his plan.
"I am not
wearing that," she said through clenched teeth and Spike turned to face
her.
"Well, you can
go naked if you want. Those," he stated, pointing to the pants and
shirt. "Are the only thing the great poof has that would go close to
fitting you."
"These aren't
Angel's, they're too small," curiosity had gotten the better of Willow as
she hesitatingly picked up the pants. It was either curiosity or the
revolting sensation of have warm blood saturating her knickers.
"They're mine.
Angel must have packed them by mistake," Spike spoke softly. Willow
looked at him, she’d never seen him wear anything but black jeans, and she
raised an eyebrow in question. Spike fingered the soft leather.
"Angelus liked his toys in leather. Hurry up and change."
Willow looked at the
blonde vampire thoughtfully, he rarely spoke of the past, especially of Angel,
or of Angelus. Looking back at the pants she sighed, the blood was
getting to her, the fact that she had only been able to open a few files was
also annoying her. Everything about her life was frustrating at the
moment. Maybe Spike was right, why waste a night in LA? Picking up
the pants and shirt, she headed off to the bathroom.
Spike watched as she
walked away and grinned. He lost the grin some 10 minutes later as he
could hear Willow's soft muffled curses coming from the bathroom.
"What are you
doing in there?" Spike asked from the other side of the door as he tried
to work out what exactly she was saying.
"You’re too
skinny," she yelled at him through the door. "They don't
fit."
"Come out and
let me see," Spike insisted, leaning back against the wall.
"No, I can't
get them done up."
"Willow, just
get your ass out here now," Spike demanded. After a moments
hesitation the bathroom door opened and Willow shuffled out. The leather
pants were slightly too long for her and bunched around her ankles. The
silk shirt hung down loose, nearly to her knees and there was no mistaking that
it was Angel's shirt.
"They don't
fit," she stated, her face flushed from all her efforts in the bathroom to
get them done up. Her hand was buried under the shirt and Spike guessed she was
holding the waistband together.
"Let me
see," he started to pull the shirt up, causing Willow to squeak and try to
slap his hands away.
"Get your
stupid hands off me," she screeched at him, backing away and slamming into
the doorframe. Her hands reached for the back of her head.
"Ouch."
Before she realized
what was happening, Spike had grabbed the shirt and tugged lightly, the buttons
popped open and she felt his arms wrap around her.
"Okay, shirts
fixed," he stated tying a double knot in the ends just below her
breasts. His hands went to the button fly of the pants and delved into
the leather, his eyebrows shot up and he smirked as he realized she wasn't
wearing any underwear. Trying not to think about Willow sans underwear,
he pulled the leather together and twisted the buttons through the
eyelets. Once the pants were done up, he took a step back and looked at
her thoughtfully. "Squat."
"What?"
she asked, still holding the back of her head while looking down at herself,
the tied shirt left her midriff bare and the leather was skin
tight. She had no idea what he meant by the command squat.
"Squat down,
the leather will stretch a little," he looked at her confused eyes.
"You'll feel more comfortable."
"Oh," she
said squatting down and wriggling a few times. Surprising enough, he knew what
he was talking about and it did make the leather feel a little more
comfortable.
"Now you are
dressed for it, let's go," he grabbed her hand, led her to the office to
pick up the laptop and dragged her out into the night.
***
Spike watched
Willow's reflection in the mirrors that lined the walls of the club. It was
great. Her expression kept changing from disgust, to awe, to intrigue and
generally ending up with bewilderment. They were in the Hellfire Club, a
well-known bondage club - especially to the vampire and demon population of
LA. He didn't really know why he wanted to come here, especially with
Willow, probably just for the shock factor and he was certainly getting
that.
Once they'd locked
the laptop in the boot of the Desoto, they had walked half a block to the back
entrance of the club and Spike had vamped out, their admittance was granted
free of the cover charge paid by the human patrons. Now, as Spike moved
easily amongst the patrons, Willow was clinging to his arm. One hand
firmly clutched at his, while the other was twisted in the sleeve of his
duster, her whole body was pressed into his arm. Spike checked out her
reflection again and smirked - should anything happen and they were torn apart,
she was definitely going to rip his arm off and take it with her.
Happily, Spike
continued their tour of the lower level of the club and the various acts that
were scattered about for the patron’s titillation and entertainment. Most
of the acts consisted of various dominatrixes, both female and male, taunting
slaves and using them for blatant sexual satisfaction in front of the
crowds. Some of the more bizarre acts included a guy being wrapped in
plastic, a small opening left for him to breathe and to expose his genitals
while he was suspended from the ceiling, his mistress was moving him about by
light chains attached to nipple rings. There were women chained in cages,
men naked and collared like dogs, dominatrix wearing leather cat suits and
masks. Anything and everything of the bizarre world of torturous sex could be
found in the various acts that were scattered about the floor of the
club.
After an hour of
wandering amongst the noise and the crowds, Spike decided to move
upstairs. Willow still clung to his arm, although her earlier look of
sheer horror had long ago been replaced by fascination. Again, a small
growl and show of his game face gained them access to the stairs and he led her
to the upper level. It was quieter and softly lit with candles.
There was only one act set up on a small raised stage in the middle of the
room, it held an A frame with a man chained to it, being whipped by a bust
blonde. The rest of the room consisted of
various sofas, love seats and chairs as well as two pool tables and a
bar.
Spike sat them down
on a couch and the barman bought them complementary shots of tequila.
Sipping his drink, Spike scanned the room. There were only a few couples, mostly
involved in heavy petting while watching the performance on the stage. A
few of the clubs girls hung around in the shadows, making him a silent offer
with their eyes. He shifted on the couch as he took in the merchandise
the club had to offer.
"So,"
squeaked Willow, finally releasing his hand. "Do you come here
often?"
"Nah, just a
bit of entertainment." Spike finished his drink and started to search his
pockets for cigarettes. "Fancy it?"
"Oh,
absolutely. You know, I've always wanted to be tied up and beaten,"
she said sarcastically. "I hear it's a great way to relieve stress."
Spike lit up his
cigarette, taking a long drag as he watched her face. It was flushed,
from the alcohol or embarrassment or from something else, he wasn’t too sure,
and, her eyes were wide with wonder as she sipped on her tequila.
"Would
you?" asked a male voice from beside them. Willow’s sip of her drink
turned into a gulp that went down the wrong way and Spike had to pat her on the
back, smirking as the young guy dressed in leather continued to proposition
her. "We're here for your pleasure."
Spike watched as her
mouth moved but no words came out. The guy was obviously one of the
performers and Spike knew the routine.
The performers would approach members of the audience, asked them to
play the games, be tied up and tortured to a pleasurable orgasm. It was what
the modern Hellfire Club’s were known for.
Spike couldn’t resist.
"Well,
pet? Unless of course you’re too scared," Spike grinned at Willow,
who was still doing an imitation of a goldfish. He turned his attention
to the performer and shook his head. "I don't think the little girl is
interested, mate."
"Hold on, I can
make up my own mind thank you," said Willow, she wasn't about to have
Spike tell her what she should do and she turned back to the leather clad
Adonis. "I'd love to...what do I have to do?"
"Nothing at
all, we’ll see that your needs are met," the young man held out his hand,
a seductive smile spreading across his lips. "My name's
Channon."
"Hi, I'm
Willow," she took his hand as he pulled her up off the couch and she stuck
her tongue out at the blond vampire over her shoulder as she was led
away.
Smiling, Channon led
her toward the stage, explaining things as they went. She was told that
foremost was her pleasure, that the frame and everything else were just props
and that anytime she wanted to stop, whenever she felt uncomfortable with what
was going on, she just had to say the safety word that they agreed on.
Spike watched as
Willow moved away from him, idly wondering if Angel ever found out about this
if he would follow through with his threat. He picked up Willow's
abandoned drink and sipped it, rolling the taste around his mouth. She
had no idea what she had just agreed to and he knew she wouldn't be able to
handle anything major, so he caught the performer’s attention, motioning for
him to come back to the sofa.
"Yes?" he
asked, standing in front of Spike.
"Don't mark
her. No cuts, no bruising, no burns - just make her cum," Spike
instructed and Channon shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
"That's not
we're about..."
"Mark her and
you die," Spike growled, the demon coming to the fore for a brief moment, letting
the boy know exactly who was in control of the situation. Channon nodded in
silent understanding and turned to go back to Willow who was standing at the
side of the stage, leading her up onto the small platform.
Soft black silk
scarves replaced the chains and Channon tied another scarf around her eyes as a
blindfold. Leaning back against the couch, Spike smiled as the silk shirt
she wore was abandoned, she tried to cover her breasts with her hands only to
have Channon step in close and whisper to her. Her arms were raised,
caught by the scarves and her ankles were similarly tied, leaving her spread
eagle against the solid frame.
The performer slowly
massaged her shoulders, calming away her fears as his voice reassured her and
his hands dropped down to her back. As
the tension left her and she forgot exactly what she was doing, Channon moved
around to the front of her bound form.
The freezing cold of an ice cube dragged across her breasts was a sharp
and somewhat titillating contrast to the warmth of his hands. Her nipples
hardened as the ice was repeatedly applied, the warmth of her skin melting it
and the water dribbled down over her stomach. Or maybe it was the ice being
moved down, swirling about her navel.
Either way, the ice finally melted away completely and it was only his
fingers on her chilled naked flesh.
Willow's head was hanging low, her whole attention focused on what this
man was doing to her. His voice was soothing and seductive, telling her
how hot she was making him, how everyone in the room wanted her, how her
boyfriend was getting turned on seeing her tied up. Willow couldn't even
think rationally enough to set him straight about Spike. She didn't
really care.
Another ice cube
replaced the other one, still teasing her aching nipples and breasts. She
could feel a hand stroke her thigh, firmly working its way up until it was
rubbing against the fork of her leather pants. Willow groaned low in her
throat. The constant murmur of Channon's voice, his hot breath against her
neck and ear, and the delightful pressure of his hand between her legs took her
where Oz hadn't. With a small moan, she came, twisting her hands against
her bonds and pushing hard against Channon. He continued to talk to her,
letting her gather her wits.
"Do you want
more, Willow?" he asked her softly.
Suddenly, Willow
froze as panic hit her. She had just let an absolute stranger masturbate her to
an orgasm, in front of other strangers...worse still, in front of Spike.
"No,
NO!" the hypnotic state she’d been in was well and truly broken and
she struggled against the scarves, trying to free herself. She suddenly
felt humiliated and any thoughts of a safety word completely flew out of her
head. "Let me go!"
"Okay, Willow,
just calm down for me. Can you do that?" Channon wasn't too
concerned, he'd seen people do this before. It was actually a pretty
common reaction, especially from first timers and as previously stated, he
wasn’t too concerned…until he saw Spike striding toward him. "Oh fuck, I’m
dead."
"Let me
go!" screamed Willow, hysteria creeping into her voice.
"Sshh,
pet. Stop struggling," Spike quietened her, his fingers immediately
tangling in the scarves and releasing her wrists. He had her shirt back
on and tied just as Channon released her ankles and Willow yanked the blindfold
off. She glared balefully at Spike
before turning away and darting down the stairs.
Silently, Spike
swore to himself and followed her fleeing figure. It was rather hard with
the throbbing erection he had from watching her, even though the performance
had been nothing, couldn't even be called bondage, but it got her off and that
was what she needed. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized the effect it
would have on him.
"Too long, too
long," Spike chanted to himself as he worked his way through the crowds
and willed his body to stop acting like some over sexed schoolboy. He found her
sitting on the side of the bonnet of the Desoto, arms crossed and a pout on her
lips. She looked adorable. There were no tears, which he took as a
good sign - he had expected to find her in a sobbing heap. Smiling, he
sauntered over to her. She glanced up and frowned.
"I don't
believe I was so stupid to let you trick me into doing that," her voice
was tinged with anger. "I hate you."
"Come on,
love. Admit it, you loved every moment of it," Spike smirked at her,
standing between her legs and placing a hand either side of her ass on the cars
bonnet. "I can smell it from here."
"You're
disgusting, you know that? Just because you're a vampire who gets off on
that sort of thing doesn't mean that everyone else does!" Willow
stated in defense of her actions. His
legs brushed against her inner thighs, making her flesh tremor and breaking eye
contact, she glanced down at her hands only to be alarmed at how close they
were to Spike's groin. < If I flexed my fingers they'd be touching
his...oh, oh, bad thought. > She moved her hands to rest behind her as she
inched away from Spike and his groin. Pulling her legs up, she stood up
on the bonnet of his car, defiantly looking down at him. "But you
are the only one who isn't having sex so I guess you'd get turned on by
anything - probably came in your pants."
Smiling at her own
wit, Willow turned and started to walk across the bonnet of the car. She
was shocked when she felt his hands grab her waist, turning her and forcing her
face down on the roof of the car. Spike grabbed her hands, bringing them
down and pressing them against the windscreen as he bent over her, resting his
hips against her, his feet firmly planted between hers on the bonnet.
"I wasn't the
one who came in my pants, pet. I believe that was you," he
practically purred in her ear and he smiled as she gasped for breath beneath
him. "All that sweetness spread over leather - I'd love to taste
that."
Keeping hold of her
hands, he dropped to his knees and her leather-clad ass was in his face.
He ran his nose and chin across one cheek and then the other before lightly
biting each buttock. Closing his eyes, he lost himself in the aroma of
Willow and leather. Never, in all of
his long life, had he smelt anything quite so sweet and he rubbed his cheek
against her bottom, slowly working his way down until his face was buried
between her thighs. He let his teeth drag along the leather, his tongue
tracing a path along the seam, and she quivered, moaning lightly.
Releasing her hands, he gripped her thighs and pulled her hips back from the
windscreen so he could move further between her legs.
Any rational thought
Spike may have been clinging to since they left the club vanished. He
could smell her arousal, her juices from her earlier orgasm had permeated the
leather, and he could taste her. His
fingers massaged her leather bound thighs as he tried to pull her closer.
His teeth were savagely dragging across the leather and opening his mouth wide,
he took as much as he could, sucking against it, trying to drown in her
taste. Pushing his mouth against her in a steady rhythm, one of his hands
moved to stroke her leather-covered ass.
"Spike,"
Willow breathed, her mind shattering at the sensations he was creating and
instinctively she began to move her hips, grinding down against his mouth,
wanting more. Her chest and head still rested on the roof of the car, her
hard nipples ached against the cool metal, and she bought her hands up to lay
flat either side of her head.
Spike could taste
her and it was driving him to distraction. The leather was slick with his
saliva and her juices. Pulling her further back from the windscreen, he
crawled from between her legs, mouthing his way up the leather pants until he
touched hot flesh. Finding her navel, his tongue darted out and circled
it before licking it, delighting in the taste of her salty flesh. He
stood up, forcing her to stand also, swaying unsteadily on her feet. One
of his arms encircled her waist while the other hand found it's way under the
shirt, his fingers brushing over her hard nipples and swollen breasts. As
a moan left her lips, he sat back on the roof and claimed her lips.
< He tastes like
leather. > It was Willow's last thought as she surrendered to him, his
mouth, his lips, and his tongue. Grasping the back of his neck, she let
her body fall against his and lifted one leg to kneel on the roof, pushing her
hips against his. There was no mistaking the feel of his throbbing
erection and she moaned into his mouth, her other hand finding the small of his
back, pulling him to her.
Spike struggled with
the buttons on her pants, finally getting them open and as his fingers delved
into the combined heat of Willow and leather, he moaned at her wetness.
Breaking the kiss, he pushed her away so he could grab the waist of her pants
and in one swift move he yanked them down to her ankles. Catching her eyes,
he couldn’t mistake the look of shock and lust. He spun her around and
forced her back against the roof of the car, easily stepping between her
leather shackled feet. Claiming her mouth again, he freed his cock and rubbed
it against her slick slit. There was nothing he could do but moan as her
arms encircled his waist while her legs wrapped around his thighs.
Breaking the kiss, Willow looked at Spike, her eyes full of lust.
"Spike,"
she demanded rubbing against him. "Fuck me."
Spike grinned; he
knew an invitation when he heard one. The word fuck hadn't even left her
lips when he thrust deep into her, causing her to shriek. They were both
on sensory overload, perhaps Spike more so than Willow and he moaned,
shuddering at the feel of her tight and delightfully wicked hot passage.
Clenching his jaw, he slowly pulled back before thrusting deep again and one of
his arms circled her waist, the other supported part of his weight on the roof
of the car so as not to crush her. For it would be so easy to do that,
all he wanted was to thrust harder and deeper, hold her to him and sink his
fangs in her neck to ensure that she wasn’t going anywhere. Pushing the thoughts aside, he found a pace
of hard, deep thrusts that she was eagerly matching beneath him, her hands
clinging to him while her breath became little more than pants and
whimpers. His mouth wandered from her
neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he continued to thrust and finally his
mouth closed over hers, their tongues tangling together.
Spike was fighting a
losing battle, there was too much, the feel of her wrapped about his achingly
hard cock, her intoxicating smell and the sweet sounds that were coming from
her mouth. Once again, he thought it had been too long as he felt his balls
tighten, his body screaming for release. Moving his hand down between
them, he found her clit and twisted it - her reaction was immediate with her
pelvis slamming into his, her head rolled back on the roof of the car and she
screamed his name which was what drove him into his own screaming climax.
Burying his head in the crook of her neck, he rocked gently against her
shuddering body, prolonging their pleasure. Still buried deep within her,
he listened to her labored breath and enjoyed the feeling of her arms and legs
wrapped around him.
< Bloody hell, > rational thought returned to Spike and it was like hitting a brick wall. < I just fucked the witch - I'm going to be staked! > He moaned into her neck and felt her muscles twitch around him. < But it was worth it. >
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