A Romantic Stroll, A New Toy And Moving Home
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"Sara Chadwick, born 1789,
died 1822 aged thirty-three. Beloved wife of Lawrence Chadwick the third,
mother to Lawrie and Emily," read Willow from the old headstone. Spike
took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled.
"Died of syphilis, which she caught from her houseboy lover, who was
infected by her hubby, who was buggering him after he was done servicing his
mistress."
Willow smirked and turned to look at him. "That's the eighth one tonight
that you’ve killed off with syphilis."
Spike shrugged. "What can I say? There was syphilis epidemic...all these
rich old farts frequented the same whorehouse. Spread like wildfire."
Willow giggled as he led her deeper into the scattered garden of graves.
It had been nearly a month since that night in LA and somehow they had managed
to spend most of their time together without anyone discovering them. Except
for Giles. That was becoming a pain in the ass for Spike. At night he could
escape and be with Willow, but the days were sheer torture with the Watcher
giving him endless lectures, accompanied by threats of a long and painful death
should he hurt her in anyway.
It was starting to become difficult for Spike to remain indifferent to Willow
during the hours when they were trapped in Giles apartment with the rest of the
Scooby Gang, increasingly difficult. Every time she walked into a room he
wanted to wrap his arms about her, claim her lips in a possessive kiss, drag
her down onto his lap and keep her there - let everyone know that she belonged
to him. But he didn't. Instead he made do with sitting next to her, resting his
thigh against hers or sitting across from her, watching her animated face as
she talked or read. Occasionally, during those 'research' sessions, she would
grant him one of her beautiful 'I love you' smiles, or better yet a cheeky
'take me hard and fast in the kitchen' grin and then blush. He sighed, he just
loved those.
"Luisa Ninfanti, born 1772, died 1832 aged 60. Daughter of God, beloved
mother to the lost children. May she rest in peace." Willow reading
another headstone shattered Spike's quiet reflection.
"She's the one responsible for the plague of syphilis," he stubbed
out his cigarette out on the headstone and brought Willow's hand up to his lips
to kiss. "You see, she adopted all the little orphans and sold their
innocence and bodies to the wealthy gentlemen of this hellhole. She was the
Madame of one of the most successful brothels in town. Whatever took a man or
demons fancy, she could supply."
He broke away from Willow to stand in front of her in a very feminine pose.
"So," he lisped and pouted. "You're looking for a little piece
of virgin flesh, preferably no more than twelve?"
Twisting about, he stood opposite to his 'feminine' character and took on the
stance of a fat man.
"That's right," he affirmed in a gruff and vulgar voice. "I've
got a tiny willy so I need something tight and small to make me feel like a
real man."
With that final comment, he grunted and thrust his hips forward. Looking down
at his crotch and still in character, a goofy look spread across his face.
"Whoops, too late!"
Willow laughed at him and stepped into his ever-ready embrace. Kissing the top
of her head, he chuckled at his own performance. It was all part of the games
they played. Romantic venues were limited to motels, parks, little hideaways,
and of course the Desoto. The many cemeteries in Sunnydale made a somewhat
macabre but romantic setting for the two and generally ensured their privacy,
more so than the other places, which were often frequented by a number of
Sunnydale's population. To ease the morbid ambience, they would stroll amongst
the dead reading the details and then make up stories.
Still, Spike was getting sick of it and so was Willow...literally.
"Kiss me," she demanded of him, curling her fingers in his short hair
and pulling him down to her. As she deepened the kiss and his tongue hungrily
sought out her mouth, she became aware of a buzzing sound. Dismissing it, she
leant against him, her hand wandering down to his groin. She wasn't at all
surprised to find him as hard as a rock. He moaned into her mouth, his hands
cupping her ass to bring her in flush against him, rubbing against her wickedly
delightful hand.
The buzzing got louder. Spike tore his mouth away from hers with an annoyed
growl, his eyes flashing gold.
"What the fuck is that?" he asked, glancing about the cemetery. A
single headlight was making its way through the cemetery gates. "Love,
where were those Bjornanji demons holed up?"
"What? Um...well, I think here...but Buffy slew them all," Willow
said, unaware of the demon riding toward them on a motorbike, she was too busy
rubbing against him. Spike grabbed her and threw her up onto a huge marble
covered grave.
"Well big bloody surprise, she missed one. Stay," he raised his
finger and eyebrow at her. She was about to protest when she caught his eye and
the flashes of gold that meant he was in no mood to discuss it. Shutting her
mouth, she watched as he literally stalked toward the approaching motorbike.
"Bloody Slayer. She's the chosen one; does she do her job properly? No,
leaves the soddin’ dregs about to annoy the crap out of me when I'm busy.
Stupid little bint needs to get her ass kicked," he muttered trying to ignore
his painful hard on. He wasn't certain whether it was his cock or his demon
that was in control at the moment. Probably both since they were equally
screaming in need for the redhead behind him. Glancing around wildly, he
spotted a fallen tree branch and picked it up to use as a weapon. Standing in
the middle of the gravel littered path, he waited as the demon revved the bike,
making the engine scream and headed straight for him. "Come on you bloody
pillock, I have better things to do then waste time cleaning up after the
stupid Slayer."
Tossing the weight of the branch between his hands, he had no idea how he was
going to take this demon out, but his cock and his demon were screaming for him
to do it quickly and get back to Willow. Clenching his jaw and grinding his
teeth together, he drew back the branch and swung it at the approaching demon's
head. It was a swing that would have made a professional baseball or golf
player jealous.
"FORE!" he yelled as the branch connected with the demons head, one swift
and fatal swing that decapitated it. The head went flying through the night sky
to land with a sickening thud somewhere amongst the graves. The bike skidded
and fell over, the motor still screaming as the throttle was caught open, and
the demon's body twitched and shuddered a small distance from it.
"Is it dead?" asked Willow from the safety of her perch on the raised
grave. Spike grinned and walked over to her, holding out his arms. Smiling,
Willow wrapped hers about his neck and shivered as he lifted her down, her body
slowly sliding down his. Before her feet even had the chance to touch the
ground his mouth crashed down on hers, hungry and ravenous. Instead of
releasing her, Spike pushed her back against the grave, forcing her to lie back
against the cool marble surface. Without breaking the kiss, he worked his way
between her legs, resting his body flush against hers. He tore his mouth away
and moaned against her neck as she began to rock her hips, her hands creeping
beneath his shirt and duster to claw at his back and work their way down to his
ass. Her hot breath caressed his ear while he covered her neck with kisses.
"Spike."
"Willow," he murmured licking her ear, one of his hands working its
way below the waistband of her pants.
"Spike, it's moving," she moaned, rolling her head back and arching
her back.
"You always make it move, love," he barely breathed over her ear, his
hand trying to undo the flies on both their jeans at once.
"Spike, the demon, it's moving!" screamed Willow, pushing him off
her. Spike twisted his head and looked over his shoulder at the headless demon
that was blindly staggering towards them.
"Fuck," he hissed, reluctantly pulling himself off Willow and kicking
out at the headless body, sending it sprawling to the ground. He lunged for the
heavy branch that had decapitated it and shoved it through the still flaying
body, pinning it to the ground. Spike watched as the body continued to writhe
and squirm. "You're a bloody kill joy, mate."
Willow had moved off the grave and was standing beside him, rather dishevelled,
a frown marring her face as she looked at the struggling demon. "What do
we do now?"
Spike looked from Willow to the demon and back to Willow. His cock was
screaming for a good hard post-kill shag, or just a shag in general. His demon
was screaming to possess Willow in general. Then there was that tiny little bit
of his mind, also being distracted by the idea of sex, which was whispering
'make sure the bugger is dead THEN shag until you're both unconscious'. He
really hated that part of his mind at the moment.
"We burn the bastard," Spike walked over to the still revving
motorbike and picked it up, shutting down the motor. He looked closely at it -
a big beautiful black BMW classic bike. Stroking the leather seat, he grinned,
he’d just scored himself a new toy, after all possession was nine tenths of the
law. Actually in the demon world possession was the only law. Turning the bike
around, he wheeled it back to the deceptively still body and set it up on its stand.
Squatting down next to the demon, he searched it and pocketed a great big wad
of cash.
Willow watched in silence. During their time together she had seen Spike kill a
number of demons, generally not as swiftly as this one. He took pleasure in
their pain and liked to beat the crap out them. When he had first taken things
from the dead bodies she'd been appalled, but then who was she to judge him?
She had always known that the money he spent on her had to come from somewhere
and it seemed justifiable - it wasn't as if the rotting corpses would need the
cash. Her thoughts were distracted by Spike pouring petrol over the body,
causing it to jerk about.
"There's life in the old fart yet," Spike grinned at Willow. Waggling
his eyebrows, he lit a match. "Won't be for much longer."
Dropping the match the flailing demon lit up and an inhuman sound of pain came
from the flames. Spike wrapped his arm about Willow's waist drawing her to him,
shielding her from any danger that could result from the demon bonfire. As s
rested her head against his shoulder, her hand wandered up to his chest and he
caught it, entiwning his fingers with hers. Watching the demon burn, he played
with her fingers, sucking on the tips and relishing in the soft moan that left
her. It was time to escape from the threat of being interrupted again.
"Come on," he said, turning away from the dying flames and pulling
her towards the bike. "Let's go get naked."
He climbed onto the massive bike and kicked it over, grinning as the engine
roared between his legs. He glanced at Willow expectantly. Unfortunately it did
not look good, she was standing there with her arms crossed, shaking her head.
"Get on, Willow," he demanded and she merely shook her head. Spike
rolled his eyes and grunted. "Why not?"
"Lots of reasons. Firstly, do you even know how to ride one of those
things? Secondly, I'm tired and I don't want to go traipsing all over the
country side," Willow started to back away, she knew that her resolve of
getting an early night was ready to fly out the door as soon as he turned his
delightfully wicked blue eyes on her and clenched his jaw.
Spike gritted his teeth. There was no doubt that she was tired and he’d
promised that it would be an early night tonight, just as he had promised every
night for the past month, although they rarely parted company before four each
morning.
"Yes, I know how to ride a bike. Come on, Willow, you know I won't let
anything happen to you," he stated, revving the engine. Teasingly, Willow
shook her head and took a side step away from him. Spike lurched the bike
forward, stopping her from taking another step. Tilting his head, he smirked at
her, his eyes full of the promise of carnal intent. "Get on the
bike."
He had that low seductive purr going and Willow knew that she wouldn't say no.
Still, she shook her head and took two steps in the other direction. Again,
Spike wheeled the bike about to stop her.
"Willow," he leant forward and mouthed her ear.
"Get on the bike."
That was her downfall, his mouth on her ear, growling his demands. As his mouth
moved from her ear to her cheek and onto her mouth, she moved into him, her
arms wrapping about his waist. Breaking the kiss, she sighed and threw her leg
over the bike, settling in behind him, holding on tightly. Spike smirked to
himself and gave her thigh an affectionate squeeze before gunning the engine
and hightailing it out of the cemetery.
They sped through the deserted streets of the outskirts of town, heading up an
old road that led into the hills behind Sunnydale. Winding and steep, but still
Spike maintained the speed of the bike, leaning it into the sharp bends and
curves of the road, grinning as Willow squealed and tightened her grip. He
loved speed, he always had and always would, and his new toy just added to the
pleasure. The bike gave him freedom, more so than the Desoto, perhaps it was
the element of danger, perhaps it was feeling of unity...Willow's hand snaked
down to his crotch, stroking his cock, making him hard. He opened the throttle
sending the bike hurtling towards their destination - who was he kidding, it
was all part of the bad boy image that he loved to live.
Finally, he rode the bike down a dirt track, stopping in an
open clearing in the woods and killing the engine. He twisted round so that he
could lean back and pulled Willow up onto his lap.
"This is pretty," she said wrapping her arms about his neck and
kissing his lips lightly. Pulling her head away, she looked out over the
clearing. Below them were the lights of Sunnydale and above the stars were
shining brightly in the clear cloudless night.
"Not as pretty as this," Spike kissed her neck, one hand gently
cupping the nape while the other delved under her shirt to caress her back.
"Or this."
He dragged his lips down over her neck and mouthed the material covering her
breasts, his tongue teasing a nipple through the thin material of her shirt
before he sucked it into his mouth, nuzzling and biting gently. Willow moaned
lightly and buried her hands under the leather of his duster, tracing the
muscles of his back with her fingers, the nails dragging over his t-shirt.
Pushing her away, he caught her shirt by the hem and lifted it over her head,
exposing her bare breasts to the cool night air. She had long since given up
wearing bras most nights, fed up of having them ripped or discarded in the
midst of passion. As he tossed the shirt aside, he caught her mouth in a gentle
kiss, his tongue delving into the velvet soft depths, drawing out her essence,
tasting her. Her mouth was a delicious prelude to the delights to come.
Reluctantly abandoning her mouth, he trailed alternate bites and kisses down
the pale column of her neck to her breasts. Moaning, she leant back against his
hands that were splayed across her back, easily supporting her weight, and her
hands worked their way beneath his shirt, playing and teasing his hard nipples.
For a moment, he pulled back and drank in her beauty. Her skin was luminous in
the soft twilight of the night, her hair took on an incandescent blood red
sheen and the green of her eyes sparkled brighter than the stars. She was truly
his goddess.
Growling, he lunged forward and claimed her mouth, hungrily drowning in her
taste before abandoning it and lowering his greedy mouth to her breasts. She
peppered kisses over the back of the cool flesh of his neck. One hand slipped
down to his jeans, deftly undoing them and pushing into the depths, her fingers
circling his throbbing cock, her thumb rubbing it's soft skin. Involuntarily,
he thrust up into her hand and his own hands pulled her closer to his hungry
mouth and cool body. His tongue traced circles on her warm naked flesh as he
worked his way back up to her shoulder, sucking and nipping at the delicate
skin. Beautiful skin that he could easily devour as his hands followed the long
lines of her legs, down to her ankles, yanking her shoes off, letting them drop
silently to the ground. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him up to her
demanding and delicious mouth, her tongue delving into his cool mouth, teasing
his. So lost was he in her mouth and dancing tongue that he was surprised when
she broke away and yanked his t-shirt off. Hadn't he been wearing his duster?
Glancing around, he didn't even have time to register that she had pushed it
off and it covered the handlebars, instead her glorious soft lips pressing
against his arrested his attention as her tongue slowly drove him insane.
Actually it was more likely the fact that she had moved up, her thighs
straddling his, her jean covered crotch thrusting against him. With every
thrust, she ground down on him, the crutch of her jeans growing steamy with her
moisture and heat. She pressed herself against him, the naked skin of their
chests touching, creating delightful friction with each sway of their bodies,
her hands kneading at the muscles in his back and shoulders. Growling low in
his throat, his hands snaked around her ass and he picked her up, swinging his
leg over the bike to stand them up. Breaking the kiss, he smiled softly at her
flustered cheeks and swollen lips.
"You are so very beautiful," he whispered brushing back the wisps of
red hair that framed her face. Stepping back, he quickly divested himself of
his boots and hooked his hand in the waistband of her jeans. "Come
here."
She needed no encouragement to step back into his arms, to meet his lips in a
soft questing kiss. Sighing, she pushed her hand into his jeans, stroking his
cock. It always amazed her how hard he was and yet the skin was soft, like
velvet. He moaned into her mouth as her fingers sent a tantalizing warmth
through him and his own fingers pulled at the fly of her jeans, making easy
work of it. Breaking the kiss, he left a trail of bites and kisses down to her
navel, dropping to his knees to pull down her jeans and worship her.
"Willow," he whispered as his mouth teased her moist curls and dipped
between her thighs. His hands gripped her ass, holding her to his mouth as he
kissed her, his tongue eagerly delving into her slick warmth and drawing out
her essence as his nose brushed against her clit.
Her hands held onto his hair as she gasped, his tongue moving up to twirl
around her clit, his teeth grazing it lightly. She smiled as she rolled her
head back and let out a soft moan. He always did this, revelled in her body.
There wasn't a single millimetre of her that he hadn't kissed, licked, bitten,
penetrated or sucked and he was always so reverent of her. He was a bundle of
contradictions, a cold-blooded killer who was tender, gentle and so very
tactile when he was with her - as such she hadn't know him to be any other type
of lover - he was even more tender than Oz had ever been
Her hands tightened in his hair as two of his fingers thrust deep into her and
he sucked her clit while withdrawing them, licking as he thrust back into her.
He was not only blowing her body but her mind, those sensations that he created
with his mouth and fingers, they were the only things she could think about.
Gasping, her legs started to tremble and he tilted his fingers deep inside her,
pushing against her g-spot. Her body froze for the briefest of moments before
her muscles spasmed and she cried out as she came. Working her through her
orgasm, he continued to stroke her with his fingers, his tongue gently lapping
at the juices that flowed, his other hand holding her steady. Reluctantly, he
withdrew his fingers, he loved hearing her cry out, screaming his name or just
the general sounds of pleasure she made. Slowly, his hands still supporting
her, he kissed his way back up to her hungry mouth. Her hands were pulling at
him, tugging at the unwanted jeans, trying to drag them down.
"Damn it," she swore, tearing her mouth away and turning them about
so she could tug at the offending item of clothing. Spike gave a snort of
laughter, which ended in "oomph" as Willow's hand on his chest pushed
him back down onto the seat of the bike. She tugged his jeans free and ended up
kneeling before him. Smiling, she arched one of her perfect eyebrows at him
before running her hands along his naked legs and her tongue along the seam of
his balls and the underside of his cock.
Closing his eyes briefly, he took an unnecessary breath and swallowed. Her
tongue swirled about the tip of his cock, making him groan, and her finger
massaged his balls while the other hand encircled the base of his cock, her
thumb teasingly rubbing along the underside. With a final lick of her tongue,
she placed a soft wet kiss on the tip before slipping it between her moist,
warm lips. Spike hissed in pleasure, his hands entwining in her flaming red
hair. She slowly worked her way down his shaft, alternately licking and sucking
him deeper into her mouth, as her lips brushed against her hand wrapped around
the base she sucked hard and raised her head, her tongue zigzagging along the
underside. Spike grunted and rolled his head forward to watch as she once more
lowered her mouth on him. As her head bobbed up and down, he lost himself in
the sensations of her hot wet mouth, sucking him, licking him, her teeth
brushing against the sensitive flesh.
Snarling, he tore her away from his cock and pulled her up to him, kissing her
hard and dragging her forward onto him. Swinging them around, he straddled the
bike again, pulling her with him, so that he could lean back. Smiling, Willow
broke the kiss and placed her hands on his chest, levering herself up. His
hands guided her back down onto his throbbing cock and he grunted in pleasure
as her muscles tightened about him. Holding onto her hips, he began to thrust
up into her, a low moan or grunt accompanying every thrust. One of his hands
snuck up to caress her flat stomach, the muscles moving under his hand as she
continued to ride him, and then up to her pert breasts, flushed and full from
excitement, her nipples painfully hard. Sitting up, he lowered his head to
catch one of those nipples, sucking it, his tongue lashing out at it in a mimic
of his thrusts.
Willow clutched at him, one hand clawing at his back while the other tangled in
his hair. Her head fell forward and she kissed his nape and shoulder, her
tongue tracing erratic patterns across the smooth flesh. As she felt his teeth
bruise her nipple, she cried out and ground herself hard against him. He moaned
against her breast and released it to lean back again, his hands moving down to
her hips, slamming her down hard against his thrusts. All too soon he felt the
familiar white heat burning through his balls and his fingers delved between
Willow's legs to stroke her clit, pushing her into an orgasm, which he soon
followed with his own.
Gasping for breath, Willow fell forward onto his chest, her arms snaking about
his neck as her lips pressed several short and sweet kisses against the skin
she came in contact with. It was only then that he noticed the bike was swaying
gently. Grinning to himself, he thanked a god he didn't believe in for small
mercies, that the bike hadn't actually overbalanced and made a mental note
never again to fuck on it. But what a wonderful way to christen his new toy.
"So much for an early night," whispered Willow against his chest. She
snuggled against him as his arms circled her, holding her to him. His laugh
rumbled through his chest and his lips caressed her hair.
"We'll make it an early morning, love."
"Mmm," mumbled Willow, already giving into the darkness of sleep in
the safety of his arms. Spike tilted his head and looked down at her exhausted
form. He knew she was exhausted, although he did find it ironic that she was
the one who fell straight asleep after sex lately. Shifting slightly, he winced
at the uncomfortable position and bought his legs up to rest on the back of
bike, gently rearranging her body against his. This was the time he cherished,
having her completely to himself, naked and wrapped up in his arms where she
belonged. Smiling to himself, he brushed the silky strands of her hair and
marvelled in the feel of her warmth against him.
***
"Come on, love, time to go," Spike called to her.
"Hmm?" Willow lifted her head from his shoulder and looked around.
They were still up in the clearing in the hills, Sunnydale was spread out
beneath them, but she was dressed and lying on top of him, leaning against the
bike. She sat up, surprised and looked down at herself. "Wasn't I just
naked?"
"Yeah, but the mosquitoes discovered you. I don't want anything biting you
but me," Spike said, stretching his legs out. In truth, she had been
asleep for hours, so soundly that she hadn't even stirred when he dressed her
and moved them down to the ground. "Ready to go then?"
Willow nodded mutely and shivered slightly in the cool early morning air. Spike
shrugged off his duster and wrapped her up in it before climbing onto the bike
and holding out his hand to her guide her behind him. Turning the motor over,
he headed back into town. On the back of the bike, Willow rested her head
against him vaguely aware that they had done a full circle of the town and were
now riding through the empty streets of a very familiar neighbourhood. She
wracked her brain, trying to figure out what was so familiar, until Spike
stopped the bike. Glancing about she realised they were in Crawford Street, in
front of Angel’s mansion.
Willow shifted uncomfortably behind him. All his muscles had tensed beneath her
hands, she could feel them tightening and flexing, and she looked about the
darken street. The only thing she could
clearly see was his profile as he stared at the dark bulk of the mansion.
"Spike?"
He didn't answer, just continued to stare at the shadow-covered shape. She
smoothed her hands over his chest, trying to soothe him, if anything he just
coiled tighter.
"Spike?" still he remained silent. Biting her bottom lip, she looked
up at the dark bulk of the mansion. "Why are we at Angel's old
place?"
Spike turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow before he slowly turned back to
the mansion, gunned the engine and took off up the gravel driveway. The bike
skidded to a halt outside the main door, which had been boarded up. Killing the
engine, Spike swung his leg over the front of the bike and got off, walking
toward the boarded door. Gathering his duster tighter about her, she slipped
off the bike and stood to watch him. Without hesitating, he kicked through the
boarded doorway and disappeared into the mansion’s murky depth. Even with the warmth of his coat, Willow
shivered. She hadn't been to the mansion since Angel was sick and she had no
idea what Spike was doing. For a moment
she stood there, hesitating before sighing and walking up the steps, following
him into the darkness.
Cautiously, she stepped inside. The floor beneath her feet was littered with
splintered wood from where Spike had kicked his way in, but as she walked
deeper into the gloom and her eyes adjusted, she saw that a heavy film of dust
and cobwebs covered practically everything. Of course no one had been here
since Angel left, so it was to be expected that the place would be dusty.
Sighing, she scanned the area she was standing in, the massive fireplace was
the dominant feature but there was no sign of Spike. Walking further into the
gloom, she turned around, wondering what he was playing at.
"Spike?" she called out, her voice bouncing off the walls and
reverberating around the empty mansion. Frowning, she turned around again and
screamed. It was Spike standing directly in front of her and she slapped him on
the arm. "What are you doing? You scared me. Come on, Spike, I'm tired
can't we go home?"
He stared at her, his usually bright eyes were dull, his face devoid of all
emotion. Swallowing, she reached out and took his hand, giving him a half
smile. "Spike?"
He glanced away from her briefly, his jaw clenched, and suddenly with a growl
he swept her up in his arms.
"Spike!" Willow screamed out, batting at his chest. "What are
you playing at? I want to go home!"
He paused to look at her momentarily, his eyes flashing gold before he spun
them around, as if getting his bearings of the mansion.
"We are home," he all but growled at her and she threw her arms about
his neck, almost frightened he was going to drop her. For a moment she thought
he was going to head into Angel's old room that led off the lounge room,
instead he headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time and at the top he
walked towards huge double doors that hid a room. With the same determination
and force he’d used with the front doors, he swung out his leg and kicked them
open to reveal the master bedroom. A master bedroom that was dominated by a
huge bed littered with pillows, covered by a heavy brocade bedspread. Spike set
Willow down on her feet at the foot of the bed and reaching out, he pulled off
the bedspread to reveal deep rich purple silk sheets.
Willow glanced about, the whole room screamed of wealth and power, it was like
a kings rooms, an emperors...a masters. Further thoughts were disrupted as
Spike pushed the duster down her arms, letting it pool at her feet. Opening her
mouth to protest, she was caught off guard as his mouth crashed down on hers,
his tongue demanding a response, dominating her mouth. She moaned as his hands
pulled her body hard against his, his fingers began to pull at her shirt and
somewhere in her passion fogged mind she heard the sound of material ripping.
Pulling her mouth away from his, she looked down at herself, shocked to find
her shirt lying in tatters on the floor. His soon joined it, as did his boots
and jeans.
"Spike, what..." her question was cut off as Spike claimed her mouth
again, his fingers tugging at her jeans, pulling them down effortlessly. Those
fingers that were so deft in undressing her were soon trailing over her body,
leaving a burning need. He pushed her backwards onto the bed, crawling over her
body, his mouth and tongue setting her on fire. Suddenly, he flipped her over,
pulling her hips up off the bed and squeezing her ass between his hands. With a
harsh grunt, he pulled her back onto his cock and set a fast pace, thrusting
hard and deep into her. Willow pushed her hands against the headboard, trying
to stop herself from being slammed into the heavily carved wood. To stop from
being hurt she began to push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His fingers
found her clit and twisted it painfully, causing her to scream as she came.
Such was the shock and force of that orgasm that she dropped her hands and head
down onto the bed. Gasping for breath, she pushed at her sweaty hair, trying to
lever herself up onto her arms, only to be restrained by Spike's hand on her
back. Moaning, she stayed down while he kept thrusting against her. She twisted
her fists in the heavy silk sheets, silently wondering what was going on with
him. Then his weight and hands were lifted off her and he pulled out of her
with a sickening plop. Unsure of what to do Willow stayed still, her whole body
trembling from pleasure and to a certain degree fear.
His hands grabbed her hips again, twisting her onto her back, one arm snaking
under her leg, cupping the knee in his elbow and lifting it up. Hesitantly,
Willow wrapped her other leg about his waist and her arms about his back, her
fingers softly tracing the tense muscles.
"Spike," she whispered. He paused for a moment and looked at her
flushed face. His jaw clenched and he wrapped his free hand in her hair,
lifting her head up to demand a brutal kiss from her as he thrust forward, deep
into her warmth. He continued to slam into her, his arm lifting her leg so that
her knee soon rested on his shoulder, her calf and foot dangling over his back.
Tearing her mouth away from his, she arched her back, her arms and legs
wrapping tightly around him, pulling him impossibly closer. As he continued to
pound into her, she began shake, her nails digging into his flesh and she
screamed his name.
"That's it baby, scream for me," he hissed continuing his assault on
her. Willow looked up to meet his golden eyes, anger and pain radiating from
them. Loosening her grip on his back, she bought her hand up to caress his face
before burying it in his short hair and pulling his mouth down for a kiss.
Still he drove deep and hard into her and she soon found herself arching up
into him, her body sleek with sweat. As her hands clawed at his back again, he
snarled, his demon came to the fore and he buried his face in the curve of her
neck, his fangs slicing into the pale flesh easily. Willow screamed out in pain
and pleasure as the act pushed her into another climax, her body slamming hard
against his, her leg dropping from his shoulder. He shuddered against her, his
hips jerking roughly as he came, his own screams of agony combining with hers.
Willow shook beneath him, her cries being drowned by his and as she listened to
him she realised his fangs were still buried in her neck and his arms were
practically crushing her body to him. But because of the pain of the chip he
had frozen, he couldn't let go.
"Spike," she whispered, her fingers stroking his hair, calming him,
soothing him. She rocked her body against his, trying to release the knots of
agony that wracked both their bodies. If she could calm him down, he would
release her and both their pain would stop. "Shhh, Spike, it's okay."
She started to whisper nonsense words of comfort, her hands caressing his tense
body, soothing him, calming him, trying to help ease the blinding pain he was
in. Finally she felt his fangs retract from her neck, his tongue licking at the
sweet blood, offering some relief to the blinding agony that resulted from his
bite. His arms released some of their pressure but still held her. Together
they rocked locked in each other's arms and eventually his whimpers of pain
turned to soft purrs and lulled them both to sleep.
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