The Games We Play
The Roof of a Desoto, Conversation and the Morning After
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< Oh god, what have I done? > thought Willow. Her legs were still
wrapped awkwardly around Spikes jean clad thighs, her hands were buried beneath
his leather duster, digging into his silk covered back, and her naked ass was
rocking against the cold metal roof of the Desoto. She could feel his arm
cradling her back, his fingers brushing her side while his teeth were teasingly
nipping at her neck as he continued to rock them in a mimic of their previously
hectic movements. Actually, desperate and horny movements would be a more
suitable description.
Now here she was, still entwined about Spike, on the roof of the Desoto. His
free hand ran across the silk of her shirt and made quick work of untying the
knot to push the fabric back, exposing her breasts. She moved beneath him, one
of her thighs cramping.
< Oh wow he’s still in me.
He’s bigger than Oz… Oz… what have I done? > She stretched out her leg,
running it down the length of his, the subtle movement eliciting another groan
against her neck while other parts of him began to respond as well. A shiver
ran through her as her muscles contracted around his swelling shaft. < This
is wrong… >
Gasping, she felt his hand
tickling her breast, an index finger brushing against the soft swell of flesh
while his thumb caressed her achingly hard nipple. It was simply to nice to
continue her guilty train of thought and she arched her back, pushing against
his hand, trying to gain more pressure as his lips caressed her collarbone
before dragging a path down to her free nipple. As his tongue flicked the
nipple, she bucked against his mouth, moaning.
<Oh my, how did he get so good
at that? Okay, I don’t give a damn I’m going to do it again… I can feel guilty
afterwards. > That was her last coherent thought as her hands moved, one
grabbed his ass while the other went to his shoulder.
His mouth continued its assault on her breast and to Spike, she tasted sweet
and salty. He could feel her moving beneath him, rocking her hips - she wanted
more and she wanted it now. Smirking,
Spike pulled his mouth away from her breast and sought her mouth, capturing her
lips. She eagerly responded, her tongue darting out to play with his, inviting
him into her soft warm mouth and his arms moved, pulling away from her to rest
on the roof and he began to push himself away.
Her eyes flew open in fear as she felt him pull out of her and she tore
her mouth away from his, crying out with disappointment.
"No, Spike, please," she blushed at her own words but damn it all,
she had decided she was going for another round, he was up for it and now he
was pulling out.
"Relax, Willow," he murmured, kissing her mouth once more before
moving down her body, his eyes holding hers as she watched him. There was a
purely wicked grin before his face dipped between her legs.
"Oh, fuck," she hissed as she felt his cool tongue brush against her
clit. Closing her eyes, she rolled her head back on the roof and concentrated
on what he was doing. Those wicked hands of his were stroking her thighs in
time with the languid strokes of his tongue and she bought her shackled feet up
to rest on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to join his mouth and he
slowly slid his thumb into her tight, wet passage, causing her to thrust
against him, her muscles clenching about the digit he was indolently thrusting
in and out of her. She whimpered at the
loss of that thumb, only to moan a moment later as two fingers slid into her.
Blindly, she stared up at the
dull night sky. Listening carefully, she could hear the distinct sounds of
their activities, heavy breathing, soft moans, the soft wet sounds of Spike's
mouth and fingers on her. One of her hands had found it's way down to caress
his hair, her fingers lightly combing through his bleached locks in time with
the motion of his mouth. That alone
would have been enough for her, the slow torture that was deftly building her
towards another orgasm. But Spike had other plans and she moaned loudly as his
thumb was thrust into her puckered anus, her fingers entwining in his short
hair as she bit into her bottom lip and arched her back off the roof. As she
twisted and writhed on the roof, he never offered her any respite, driving her
wild by alternately thrusting his fingers and thumb deep into her as his mouth
continued to torture her clit. It was too much and Willow clutched at his head
and came, her muscles contracting, making it hard for him to continue the
movement, so he stilled his ministrations and waited for her to come back
down.
“Spike,” it was the only thing
she could think of to say as she stroked his hair, her hips still rocking as
she tried to regain control of her body.
Control wasn’t hers though and Willow found that her world was spinning, or
rather she was and the next thing she knew she was face down, bent over the
roof of the Desoto. She was about to say something when she felt the tip of his
cock slide slowly inside her and she clenched her fists, the only thought in
her mind was why the hell he was moving so slowly, it was nothing more than
torture. Placing her hands flat on the roof, she levered herself back onto him,
moaning as his cock slid deep inside her. With a thud, one of his hands landed
beside hers on the roof, his other grabbing her waist, lifting her up and
stilling their movements.
"Willow," it almost sounded like a prayer and his tongue traced her
backbone through the silk of the shirt before he lightly dragged his teeth over
the back of her neck. His hand wandered from her waist, back down over the
rounded cheek of her buttock and he kneaded it, slowly pulling back before
thrusting forward, hard and fast, into the writhing redhead. She moved with him,
taking her weight on her hands, thrusting back just as hard as he was,
delighting in the sensation of his cock sliding in and out. As his other hand
moved back to her hip, he gave her ass a final squeeze and grabbed her hips,
earnestly thrusting hard and deep, grunting and hissing at the very feel
her. There was nothing he could do but
revel in her, the feel of her muscles contracting about his cock, pulling him
in deeper, grasping at him with every move he made to pull out, not that he was
planning on leaving that heavenly warmth anytime soon. And to all that was unholy, the sweet sounds
she was making, the frantic cries of passion, but more than that was the number
of times she cried out his name, demanded more and he was nothing but a slave
to both their passions until he felt her shudder beneath him, collapsing onto
the roof as she came again with a cry of his name.
Releasing her hips, he clutched
at one of her hands while his arm encircled her waist, pulling her hard against
him. With a final deep thrust he came, collapsing on top of her and burying his
face in the crook of her neck.
“Willow,” he whispered so softly
that she could not hear him above the ragged sounds of her own breath and the
frantic pounding of her heart. Once
more his mouth found the back of her neck, following the smooth line up to her
ear, catching the lobe between his teeth before placing a soft kiss on her
temple. As she still trembled beneath him, his gaze fell on their hands, his
larger one covering hers but their fingers were locked together, entwined, and
it struck him as being proper, how it should be. But perhaps not right now, not with Willow so exposed in the
middle of an alleyway,
so he released her hand, stood up and pulled out of her. His hands ran down
over her back to the curve of her ass and he gave it an affectionate squeeze
before continuing down the length of her legs and pulling the leather pants
back up from around her ankles. She
pushed herself off the roof of the car and leant back against him as his nimble
fingers did up the button fly, his lips brushing against her neck. Silently,
she worked on doing up the buttons of her shirt and once he finished buttoning
up the pants, she moved away from him to sit on the side of the bonnet.
Frowning slightly, Spike followed, sitting down beside her and watching as
fixed the last of the buttons before silently twisting her fingers in the silk.
"You know this is just bad..." she finally said. “The whole thing is bad.”
"Well, I thought it was..." Spike began. He couldn't understand what
she was saying, after all they’d both enjoyed themselves. Hell, he’d certainly enjoyed himself and
from the sounds she’d been making…
"Oh, no, not that,” Willow shook her head, her eyes widening at the
thought that no one in their right mind would consider what they’d done
anything but good. “That was good, in fact, that was fantastic. It was what you
expect, fireworks type of thing."
"Then what's bad?" Spike asked, curiously.
"Me," she spoke quietly, looking straight ahead.
"You're not, love," Spike couldn't help but chuckle, there was
nothing, especially now, that he could ever fault Willow on.
"Yes I am. Look at me! I just had..." she frowned and gestured wildly
toward the roof of the Desoto with her hands. Spike stopped the smirk he could
feel forming at her inability to say 'sex' and watched her. "With you,
which could be considered bad. I mean...Oz…Oz and me…we're together. So doing
that with you is just bad," she nodded her head in total agreement with
herself and tore her eyes away from Spike's cool blue gaze before starting to
do the only thing possible. Pacing and venting, her hands gesturing wildly.
"But you know, it isn't my fault. I didn't ask to come to LA, you were the
one that spilt blood on me and dragged me to that stupid club. I would never
have even considered coming here and certainly not having that guy do what he
did which made me all...well it doesn't matter what it made me feel, because it
was bad!"
She stopped and practically spat the word 'bad' in his face while hers was
marred by a worried frown.
"Willow," he began only to have her return to her pacing and ignore
him completely. He shook his head in amazement, at this point in time he could
only think of finding some place with a huge bed and dragging her with him for
a sleep before getting to know her a lot better in the carnal sense, and she
was pacing. He didn't know where she found the energy.
"And if I didn't feel that way I would never have done what I did with
you..." again she stopped in front of him, glancing up at the roof of the
car before returning to his face. "Twice no less!" A note of hysteria
had crept into her voice. Pausing in her rant, she took in his face, her frown
melting into a lustful, sappy look. "And if you didn't do that thing with
your tongue and...and...and your fingers..." he smiled as her breathing
quickened and her hands reached out towards him. "And your mouth
and..." she stopped, pulled her hands back and shook her head. "I'm
just getting completely off topic here."
"Well," Spike began to say, thinking of suggesting his previous idea
of finding a bed.
"You know, it's all Oz's fault," she said, surprising Spike.
"I'd gotten over him - well not really you never forget your first love -
but I had accepted what happened. I even kind of understood. Not that I'm
saying it was right or anything, but I was beginning to move on, put him behind
me and then he just shows up. Expects us to pick up a few days before he did
that...that...bitch - like it never happened. Well it did happen and then he
just leaves. Nothing, no notes except wanting his stuff, no phone calls - even
Buffy gets calls from Angel - but no, I get nothing! Then one day he just shows
up and says 'Hey babe, sorry, love you' and expects that to make it all better."
She stopped in front of him again with a look of expectation and he knew he was
going to look like a complete and utter git if he didn’t say something.
"Well..."
"But it doesn't." she stated angrily, resuming her pacing. "Then
everyone's 'Oh Will, we're so happy for you - you two belong together'. Is that
because we cheat on each other? Kind of like tic for tac? That's wrong, that's
bad. See - it all comes back to being bad. I mean, what does he expect? He
comes back and just wants everything to be all hunky dory. He acts like nothing
happened, like he never left or even had 'relations' with that vapid whore. You
know every time we...well, when we...erm...have..."
She looked at him pleadingly. Raising an eyebrow, he put forward the word she
couldn't bring herself to say. "Sex"
"Yes, I can't help but think of them together. It use to be different…it
use to be good. Now it’s just..." she struggled for a moment, trying to
think of a word to describe the emptiness of her relationship with Oz.
"Unsatisfying," Spike offered. She had stopped pacing and stood in
front of him, her head low, examining her hands like it was the first time she
had really seen them.
"Why is that?" she asked in a low voice, still blindly staring at her
hands.
"Well..." Spike began, not having the faintest idea what to say.
"I mean nothing’s different really. He tells me he loves me...actually, he
tells me he loves me more than he ever did before. Every moment he gets it’s
‘hey babe, love you’. But it's different, you know, the words don’t mean
anything, they’re empty...it's empty," her voice was low and hoarse. As
she bought her head up, Spike could see the pain and turmoil in her eyes,
something she’d hidden so well for the past month. "He doesn't mean it,
it's just something he says to make him feel better. Lets him justify
everything he's done..."
"Come here," Spike pulled her into his arms, his hand cradling the
back of her head. Breathing in the smell of her hair, he felt her arms wrap
around his waist under the duster.
"He's going to leave again, isn't he?" she spoke softly, her voice
full of anguish, like she was resigned to the idea. He considered the question
carefully. Oz would leave, he was certain of that, but what do you tell a young
girl who had already been hurt and abandoned? He knew what the Slayer and her
friends would do - they'd disagree and say that he would never think of leaving
her and that he loved her dearly. Lies to offer comfort and lull her into a
false sense of security.
"Yeah," he stated calmly.
"I wish he'd never come back," she said quietly into the crook of his
neck. "It would have been easier if he hadn't."
For some reason, although they were packed with misery and pain, those words
sounded like music to Spike's ears. She didn't want the Wolf, she was unhappy
with him and she was seeking comfort. Spike grinned, he loved being her
comfort, he would comfort her until she forgot who made her so miserable, until
she could think of no one but him, until she died. They stayed locked in each
other's arms for ages.
"Come on, we'd better get back so I can have my ass staked," he
stated quietly.
"What?"
"I'm thinking the Slayer won't be taking kindly to our little..."
"Don't be stupid," Willow pulled away from his embrace. "It
never happened."
Spike was silent for a moment,
but shock soon gave way to anger and he scowled at her. How dare she just try
and brush him aside. And what the fuck for? The bloody idiot Wolf who was going
to fuck off and leave her anyway?
"What?"
"Think about it, Spike. What
would happen if everyone found out? How long do you think you'd last? Buffy
would stake you in a heartbeat and Oz...well…just think about it," she
knew it would be best, she didn't want him to be nothing more than some distant
memory and a pile of ashes. Anyway,
what possibility did they have of making it work and what was she thinking? She
was in a relationship with Oz, the boy who was meant to be the love of her life
and he loved her, told her he loved her...didn't he? Whereas Spike, well, Spike
was Spike. "It's best that we just
forget about it. Okay? Please, Spike."
"Fine. Whatever you want, pet." Spike slid off the bonnet and walked
over to the drivers' door. Lighting up a cigarette, he glanced at her over the
bonnet of the car. She was smart and she was right, it would cause a lot of
trouble for both of them. Hell, he would probably never see another night if
the Slayer found out. But that little piece of logic didn’t meant that he had
to like it, he hated it and slammed the door shut to sit sulking behind the
wheel. Had things been different he'd just drag her off, mark her and never
give her a moment to even think about someone else. What the hell was he thinking? If things were different, he
wouldn't have had her. Actually yes he would, he would have sired her that
night in the dorm room and never let her out of his sight... < Shit. >
Willow stood for a moment, looking at his shadowy form through the window.
Sighing in resignation, she got into the passenger seat. No matter what
happened a relationship between them wouldn’t work, it couldn’t work. For
starters, he was a vampire, okay sure she was dating a werewolf and the
transition from werewolf to vampire wasn't that big a step, but no, it wouldn't
work. Look at Angel and Buffy, of course that was different, Angel had a soul
and Buffy was the Slayer. Okay, so that was totally different to her and Spike,
but it still wouldn't work...would it?
No, what they had done was wrong. It could never happen again. Definitely not,
no matter what, it was one of those weird things that just happen. You know,
two people thrown together, one extremely horny the other unsatisfied, it was
bound to happen. It had and that was
it, no more. No matter how good it was, or how right it felt, or how talented
he was...especially with his tongue...
"Shit," muttered Willow.
***
Spike watched her in the mirror. It would have been better if he watched her
less and concentrated more on his driving but at 2am in the morning the roads
were pretty empty, except for a few semi-trailers. They had just reached the
edge of LA when he heard her swear softly, he'd seen the turmoil she had been
working through, she would never be any good at lying, her face was too
expressive. Now she was desperately fighting sleep, every few moments her eyes
would flutter shut until her head fell forward and then she'd wake up with a
start. Spike let out a frustrated sigh.
"Come here, love," he stretched his arm across the back of the seats,
his fingers curling around the far side of her neck with a gentle pressure,
pulling her toward him. She tensed under his touch, unsure of what to do.
"I won't bite, you bloody well know that."
Too tired to care anymore, Willow scooted over, laying her head against his
shoulder. "Don't go to sleep."
"What?" Spike wasn't sure if he’d heard her right.
"Don't go to sleep and crash the car. I don't want to die just yet,"
Willow murmured against his shoulder, snuggling as his arm wrapped around her.
"Don't worry, I want you alive for a while yet," he said, stroking
her hair until he was sure she was asleep. He kept driving until they were
about half an hour out of Sunnydale and pulled the car off to the shoulder of
the road. Shifting slightly, he let her head fall from his shoulder to his lap
and he had to hold his illusory breath as she stirred and wrapped an arm around
his leg before throwing her other arm across his lap. "Fuck, maybe that
wasn't such a great idea."
Spike waited, making sure she was still asleep, before lighting a cigarette and
leaning back in the seat to think. His hand strayed down to stroke her hair and
he wondered what the hell had he done. Screwed the little witch, taken her with
no regard at all, something she didn't deserve. No, she was a Goddess, his
Goddess who he should have treated with more respect, worshipped her instead of
treating her like some common whore.
There was a growing need, he wanted her, completely and utterly, in a
way that the Wolf couldn't and that no one else would understand. But no, she
was going back to the Wolf because it was expected.
Although Willow had voiced her
thoughts, Spike really didn't think she'd realized what she was saying – that
her relationship with the Wolf was empty, unsatisfying, nothing more than a
ridiculous façade. She was miserable and all Spike wanted to do was make her
happy, which he couldn't do in Sunnydale because the Slayer would stake his
ass. Sunnydale, his own personal hell in which Willow was his only grace. For
the briefest of moments, he considered turning the Desoto around and pissing off
where no one could find them. Just a fleeting thought that couldn't really be
entertained. Nope, he was stuck in Sunnyhell as long as he was defanged.
Pouting, Spike considered his options for a moment, idly wondering if he could
kill the Wolf during his cycle. He didn't like the idea of trying it out - he'd
rather be staked by the Slayer than end up being dinner for a werewolf. Damned
if he did, damned if he didn't. Willow was unhappy and he could make her forget
that, it was all he cared about at the moment. If that meant keeping quiet
about LA, fine. But there was no way in hell he was going to forget about it,
or let her forget about it. He was sure of one thing - she was his.
Flicking the cigarette butt out the window he drove off, his hand still on the
sleeping girl’s head.
***
"Where have you been?" hissed Giles as he opened the door. Spike
frowned as he carried the still sleeping Willow passed the Watcher and headed
for the stairs. "Angel rang hours ago, he's been worried sick about you
two."
"I doubt that, mate," Spike turned at the bottom of the stairs.
"Call the great poof and put him out of his misery. Actually, stake him -
that'd work better."
"What happened? Angel was frantic, something about finding Willow's
clothes covered in blood," Giles whispered letting his eyes roam over
Willow's sleeping form for any injuries.
"If the bloody git had used his head he'd have known it was pigs
blood," Spike hissed at the Watcher. "Now if you don't mind..."
"Where are you going?" Giles asked.
"Putting sleeping beauty here to bed."
"What, in my bed? Where am I going to sleep?"
"You can have the couch...unless you want the bath," Spike said as he
walked up the stairs. "Ring peaches, tell him all’s well that ends
well."
Spike made his way upstairs, he could clearly hear Giles on the phone, he'd
forgotten all about the damn clothes. Laying Willow down on the bed, he
carefully removed her shoes and the leather pants, leaving her in the silk
shirt and ensuring that he didn’t wake her. Pulling the quilt up over her, he
sat on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep for a while, waiting until
Giles finished his call to Angel, only then did he reluctantly leave the room
and the girl.
"I take it you do have the laptop?" asked Giles as Spike moved back
down the stairs.
"Yeah, it's in the trunk," Spike tossed him the keys. "So, you
been waiting long?"
"Since Angel rang, a little past 11," Giles glanced at his watch.
"It's now 4.30, I'm sure you can do the math, as the children are so fond
of saying."
"Mmm..." Spike ignored the Watcher and went to the kitchen, the
nights earlier activities had given him an appetite, even if it was pigs’
blood.
"What did you do from 11 until now?" Giles asked, sounding very much
like a scolding parent.
"Oh, the usual. Dressed Willow in leather, took her to an S&M club,
got her all horny then shagged her senseless on top of the Desoto," Spike
said and took a sip of his blood.
"Really Spike, your flippant attitude can be most annoying at times,"
stated Giles as he headed for the door to retrieve the computer from the
vampire’s car.
"Yeah, night mate." Spike turned and headed to the bathroom. He
waited until Giles came back in and fell asleep on the couch before silently
moving through the apartment to Willow, clad only in his jeans. Lifting the
quilt, he crawled in next to her, sighing as she stirred and wrapped her arms
about him. He kissed her forehead lightly. "Night Willow."
"Night Spike," she mumbled as she threw a leg over his.
***
Voices. That's what Willow could hear, somewhere in the distance, through the
fog of sleep. Voices. Distinctive voices. She sighed and rubbed her cheek
against the cool muscular chest she was sleeping on.
"She's sleeping at the moment," it was a familiar voice, Giles’
voice, she knew that much and she wondered who he was speaking with and why he
was in her dorm room.
"Cool, so can we listen to your records while I wait?" Oz asked.
Oz…Oz was talking to Giles, suggesting they listen to his records. They couldn’t be in her dorm room and
Willow's eyes flew open. She was definitely not in her dorm room. She pushed
herself up off Spike's naked chest. Her eyes widened even more as she realized
she was in bed with a naked Spike.
"Oh God!" she exclaimed.
"Well, love, you can call me that if you want," Spike smirked.
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