Inell’s Belated Birthday Story
vvvv
“Spike?” it was a
squeak that would’ve made Mickey Mouse jealous that stopped Spike’s forward
momentum up the stairs, eventually into Buffy’s bedroom, and brought forth the
demon. Spinning, he tried to find some
advantage by placing the voice, certain it wasn’t the Slayer or any of the
Summers women, he’d seen the whole happy trio drive off barely half an hour
ago. Instead of being faced with some
horrific minion of hell, it was the witch, standing at the foot of the stairs
in red leather. Tight red leather that
seemed painted onto her impossibly long legs, hugging her hips, then there was
nothing except the vast amount of pale skin broken by a slash of crackled gold
tinted with red hues that was supposedly meant to be one of the tiny triangular
tops that were all the rave.
The demon melted
away as Spike stared. Hell, he’d never
seen the redhead display so much skin, or her shoulders for that matter, but
there they were, all clearly on display in the tight fitting outfit. He had to blink and do another sweep over
the leather, following the tight pants back up to the pale waist and her navel,
the triangular end of her top pointing it out to him. Not that he had to have it pointed out, it was the first time
he’d seen her navel naked, well close up anyway, and it called to him. Made the blond tilt his head in wonder at
the cute little belly button, small and perfectly round, sinking back into her
stomach, there was no end to what treasures were hidden in it.
“Spike,” the squeak
distracted him from her navel and he scowled down at her, wondering if she was
possessed…she had to be considering the outfit and the squeak. “What are you
doing here?”
“Bugger that,” he
spat, continuing to scowl, the house was empty ~ she wasn’t meant to be there.
“What the hell are you doing here and why are you squeaking?”
“Dawn’s party,”
Willow stated indignantly as her voice started to return to its normal
pitch. Shrugging, she waved the balloon
she was holding at him and grinned sheepishly.
“And helium.”
“Helium?” asked
Spike ludicrously, she was a strange one this witch.
“Yes,” she looked
him over from head to toe, taking in the bunch of flowers he held in one hand
and narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t
exactly explained your presence here though.”
“Same reason as
you…” Spike stated without missing a beat. “Dawn’s party.”
It was then that he
knew she didn’t believe him. The green
eyes, which had been optimistic, sparked with pure mischief and a cheeky little
smile tainted her lips. Shaking her
head, she walked away from him, the red leather-clad ass swaying in a way he
was certain wasn’t good.
“Uh huh.”
“What’s that meant
to be then?” demanded Spike, storming back down the stairs to follow her. The last thing he wanted was the little
witch calling his bluff, which she had done with that incredulous little
sound. “You think the little brat
wouldn’t invite me?”
“Oh sure,” Willow
stated, tying off the balloon and letting it drift up with the rest that were
floating about with their long streamers dangling down. She didn’t even bother to look at him as she
continued fiddling with bits and pieces.
“All fifteen year olds are just dying to invite a neutered male vampire
to a girls only sleepover…” She knelt
down at the coffee table, setting about wrapping up the ‘pass the parcel’
bundle, and glanced up at the sullen vampire.
“Let me guess, you’re actually the Avon rep who’s going to do the
make-overs?”
She’d had too much
helium, why she was sucking back helium Spike wasn’t sure, but he was certain
she’d had too much. Here she was raving
about a party when there was no one in the house.
“Hang on, there’s no
one here so, what the hell are you talking about?!?!”
“Of course no one’s
here…yet,” Willow pointedly stated, ignoring the growl that accompanied the
thump as the blond spread himself across the sofa, the flowers still clutched
in his fist. “I’m here to do the
decorations,” she waved her hand about the nearly completed room and Spike
glanced about, taking in the birthday banner, copious amounts of floating
balloons that obscured the ceiling and other party decorations. Considering she’d had barely half an hour,
she’d done a damn good job of it all.
“Dawn doesn’t know she’s having a sleepover party, she just thinks her
Mom and Buffy are taking her and her friends out to dinner. This is the surprise. I have three hours to transpose this area
into party central.”
“Right. I knew that actually,” Spike stated,
deciding that he could still save face. “Joyce asked me to lend a hand.”
“Uh huh.”
There it was again,
that whole calling his bluff without forming a sentence. Red leather pants or no, she was starting to
get on his nerves.
“Will you stop
saying that!” he didn’t even bother to ask, just demanded and damn it if she
didn’t turn to face him with that stupid lopsided smile.
“You were heading
upstairs with a bunch of carnations, red no less, but you’re here to help with
the party…”
Okay, so she’d
called his bluff…again. At least she’d
used an actual sentence. Didn’t matter,
at that point in time, Spike hated her.
“What, you think
that these are for the Slayer? Ha,
shows how much you know…” he tossed the carnations down on the coffee table and
snorted at her, he could still make a damn good bluff. “I brought them for the little girl’s
birthday. Every girl deserves flowers
on her birthday.”
“Dawn’s birthday was
on Wednesday, the party was postponed until tonight so they wouldn’t miss
school,” Willow sighed and shook her head, turning back to the task of wrapping
up the cutesy gifts. “You’re nothing
but a big sap, Spike.”
“Bitch,” Spike was
pissed. She’d done it again, at least now she was sticking to whole sentences,
better than that grunting thing she had going. Still, with no other excuses
left, name-calling was a good alternative and undoubtedly it’d make her cry.
“Fangless,” she
didn’t even bother to look at him and her voice held no hint of malice or
distress.
“Wannabe Witch,”
Spike knew he’d hit a sore point when she stopped wrapping and spun her head to
look at him, anger evident in her eyes.
“Undead mid life
crisis,” she spat and turned back to the parcel, accidentally knocking
something from the coffee table.
“Hey…” Spike
started, but he was left speechless by the sight before him. To all that was unholy, she was kneeling
over in those tight red pants, knees spread slightly, ass high in the air as
she reached out to pick up the thing she sent flying and his come back was
forgotten. He was going to lose face in
front of Red. Time to fall back on
childish repartee because his brain was otherwise occupied with the red leather
clad ass barely a few feet away from him “Sticks and stones, love.”
“May break my bones,”
she grinned at him over her shoulder before the expression melted away into a
sultry pout and the eyes grew brazen.
“But whips and chains excite me…”
“Rather kinky… well,
they always say it’s the quiet ones,” Spike murmured, still appreciating the view. Oh yeah, those pants left nothing to the
imagination and he was certain she couldn’t be wearing underwear, even a
g-string would leave a mark under the spray paint that was masquerading as
leather. Add to that the pale expanse
of skin that was left bare by her tiny top, exposing her slim waist and lovely
back and what the hell was he thinking??
Shifting, he frowned, glancing down at the carnations as she sat back
up. “You think the Slayer’ll like
them?”
For the first time
that evening there was no rapid-fire retort from the witch and it was enough to
draw his attention. She was fiddling,
he’d seen enough of her actions during the past few months to know it wasn’t
anything productive, it was that nervous little movement that she did when she
had something to say that was bound to upset someone. Raising an eyebrow, he watched her intently, the fiddling wasn’t
good considering he was the only other individual in the house. Great, the Slayer was probably allergic to
carnations.
“Spike,” with the soft
tone of Willow’s voice, he just knew it was going to be bad news, especially
when she turned to face him, all trace of frivolity gone. “I’m not getting
involved. If you want to go chasing
after Buffy, then you do it. Don’t do
what all the others did ~ I’m not an all-knowing expert on Buffy and her
romantic inclinations.”
Spike continued to
watch as she turned back to the parcel, still fiddling with it, even though
she’d said what she thought. It made
sense to him, now she’d mentioned it, that coming to the best friend for
suggestions, information and general inside knowledge would be a good
idea. Of course she’d just vetoed that
with her little ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ll be damned before I play
matchmaker’ statement. Hang on, she’d
mentioned others…
“Others? What ‘others’ would they be, ducks?” he
wasn’t above trying to get some information from her.
“You know, Xander,
Angel and Riley,” Willow frowned for a moment.
“Although not so much Angel, but he still wanted…”
“Little things,” Spike
surmised, knowing full well the dark haired vampire liked to gather little
snippets to add to his own stalking and gathering fests, just to make sure he
was heading in the right direction.
“Yeah,” came the
despondent reply and Spike glanced at her, not surprised to find her all
pouty. Smirking, he swung his legs off
the couch and leant forward, closing the distance between them.
“Bet you’re
jealous.”
“Oh please,”
Willow’s face reflected the stupidity of the suggestion. “I’m gay.”
“What a load of
codswallop,” Spike roared, throwing his hands up in the air as he leant back
against the couch. It was a catch cry
that he was sick of hearing from her and her mates.
“What?”
“Sorry, I’ll
Americanize it,” he smirked, leaning back down so he was barely a few inches
away from her. “That’s such a load of crap.”
“Hello?” Willow
protested. “I have a girlfriend.”
“So?” he asked
sarcastically. “Doesn’t mean you’re a
lesbian, just means you’re bi-sexual. If
the wolf came back…”
“Oz did come back
and then he left, remember?” the pain was evident in Willow’s voice as she
turned away. There was no mistaking
that Oz had been an important part of her life and Spike shook his head,
dropping down to sit next to her on the floor.
Finally, he had a chink in the apparent Armour.
“Yeah,” agreed
Spike, running his fingers over her folded knee, he just had to do it to make
sure it was leather. “But did you say, oh I’m madly in love with this girl and
what I felt for you was nothing more than a lie, so that I’d be accepted
without question by my peers, and a conscious decision to revert against my
natural tendency to love women?” Spike smirked, watching the emotions flitter
across her face. “No, he left because
you brought out the beast, love. If
he’d been able to control it, then you would’ve had to make some tough
choices.” He stayed on the floor but
leant back to rest against the couch, the smirk growing as he stretched his
arms back, linking his fingers behind his head. “But he couldn’t, so you got
given Tara on a silver platter. If some
bloke said he wanted to get down and dirty with you, and you found him
attractive, I reckon you’d be spreading your legs in a heartbeat.”
“You’re so vulgar.”
“But you know I’m
right…” Spike loved to see the redhead squirm and with her shallow three worded
retort he knew he was right, she’d made no attempt to deny it or form a logical
argument. And she was squirming,
literally, turning around to face him, anger brewing in her eyes.
“And what if you
are? Not that I’m saying you are, but
going on my previous track record it’d probably be some…” she struggled to find
the words to describe the type of males she’d attracted over the years. “Less than ordinary guy.”
“You make that sound
like a bad thing,” Spike stated, surprised by the way she’d spat the words
out. He’d never given much thought to
the Scooby’s past, especially not their dating records, but Red’s could be
interesting, especially since there was nothing better to do and it might come
in handy sometime in the future, so he was more than willing to listen.
“My first boyfriend
was a demon, pure demon at that, who made himself a body out of metal and
computer pieces…then he tried to kill me,” Willow exclaimed, rolling her eyes
and Spike dropped his hands down, leaning his weight on between her and the
couch. “So, there you go, strike one.
My next boyfriend was Oz, a werewolf, and that…” the animation left her
face, her hands, so active before, fell to her lap as she followed them with
her eyes and she shrugged. “It didn’t
work out. Strike two. Then there was Xander…”
“I never understood
the appeal in the Twinkie myself,” Spike shook his head.
“Well, you
know…constantly with each other, feelings develop. It was one of those growing up, developing crushes and being
madly in love…or hormonally unbalanced,” she shook her head, a twisted smile
gracing her lips. “But I guess he was
pretty normal…” she paused for a moment, a frown scrunching up her nose. “Except he was dating Cordelia at the time.”
“A red hot affair,”
Spike shifted, getting comfortable, knowing his next question would at least
get a blush from the witch. “Did you two shag like minxes?”
“No, just
unauthorized smoochies…” Willow frowned and Spike was disappointed, no blush,
no stutter. “And wandering hands.”
“You live
dangerously, Red.”
“Anyway, that was
strike three,” Willow shrugged. “Only,
it was kind of strike two because it happened during the whole Oz thing…”
“So you decided to
change teams?” Spike murmured, cutting off her ramble. Licking his lips, he once more closed the
space between them by leaning forward.
“And what a girl you picked, someone who thought she was a demon…”
“But she’s not,”
stated Willow, it was a sharp denial and Spike mused over the possibilities
behind it. Nonchalantly, he shrugged,
his eyes darkening as they fixed on hers.
“Doesn’t change the
fact that she thought she was. Face it, love,” he growled, angling his head so
that he could nearly brush his lips against hers. “You appeal to the demon in
everyone, you call to it…look at the facts, you’ve listed them yourself.”
“Ha, ha,” the words
were dry as Willow brought her hand to his chest, intending on pushing him
away. His smirk grew as her hand
pressed uselessly against his chest and he leant against it, briefly, before
acquiescing to being pushed back slightly.
After all, he was eager to hear what she’d say, so he was willing to
comply…for the time being. Her index
finger tapped twice before she pulled her hand away and smiled at him. “There is a tiny little hole in your theory,
Spike, Xander.”
“You think?” the
smirk died and he tilted his head, mesmerized by the curiosity and questions
that filled her eyes and her parted lips, waiting. “Look at his scorecard,
love. There was Miss Congeniality and
now Anya, not to mention that ever-present crush on the Slayer…not exactly what
you’d call normal. He’s attracted to
the bizarre, the supernatural, the twisted…you fall into that category.”
Spike licked his
lips as her mouth clamped shut and she pulled back slightly, her eyes narrowing
as she considered what he’d said. It
was time to step up the game. Ever so casually, he rolled his body, his free
hand coming down to rest behind her so he loomed over her, never breaking
contact with her eyes that had grown as wide as saucers.
“What do you think,
love? Want more proof?” he growled,
slowly moving closer, pushing her back by invading her personal space. “What about Angelus, and no, we’re not
talking Angel, but Angelus. Remember
that night,” he whispered in her ear, smiling at the shiver and great gulp it
produced. “At the school…” his cheek
brushed against hers and he could feel his own warming just from being so close
to her. “When he grabbed you?”
Her breath betrayed
her, catching slightly as she angled her head and dropped her hands to the
floor behind her to support her weight as he continued to force her back.
“What about it?”
“That was the
demon,” Spike whispered, dropping his head down to let his lips hover along her
jaw line, not touching the skin but feeling her warmth. Slowly, he looked up at her from lowered
eyes. “He made no pretence of trying to
be the man. Pure, unadulterated evil held you in its arms that night. Tell me his hands didn’t roam over you,” he
challenged her, continuing his excruciatingly slow exploration of her jaw and
throat with his lips, purposely keeping from touching her. “His fingers
caressed your throat, stroking the very thing he wanted to sink his fangs
into…”
The problem with
Willow’s position was that it didn’t allow for backward movement. She was
kneeling, awkwardly at that, so her legs were firmly trapped under the weight
of her body, the torso of which was bent back to nearly breaking point, even
with the support of her hands. There
was no elegance in her next move as, with a startled gasp, her arms buckled and
she somehow ended up sprawled on the floor, Spike following her every movement
so she was literally pinned beneath him. Arms and legs, free of the constraints
of her previous position, were haphazardly spread out below him. However, nothing touched, he was poised
above her, holding her down with his eyes and sheer presence. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
“How did you…”
“Know?” he briefly
raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t
matter. Then of course there was that
wolf. How many times did he just watch
you? Fix his eyes on you and not let
you out of his sight. Did he tell you
he wanted to take it slowly? You know
why, don’t you?” the eyebrow once more shot up as he pursed his lips. “He couldn’t control the wolf around you, it
was a struggle long before it became a problem. It was his instinct to take you, mark you, mate like the demon he
was. You enthralled and terrified the
boy all at once,” his mouth hovered over her cheek and up to her temple before
dropping down to her ear as she lay enthralled beneath him. “You made him howl…you appeal to the demon
that resides in everyone, Angelus, the wolf, anyone you care to name. You make
them all scream…make them beg.” Spike’s
eyes found hers and he wondered if they could get any wider. Dropping his head, his gaze roamed, taking
in the tiny top and pale skin. Hell, he
didn’t even need to look any lower, the tight red leather pants were the only
things he could see every time he closed his eyes. So he returned to her lips, moist and parted, her hot breath
rushing over them, warming his own barely inches away. “Oh yeah, there’s something about you, an
energy, unending source of untapped power all hidden under an appearance that
could be so easily overlooked…”
What had started out
as a joke was quickly turning into something more, he was being seduced by his
own words, wondering what he’d have to do in order to get those damnable
leather pants off her. That was why he
wasn’t expecting what came next. The
lips he was so focused on, pouted and moved closer, and he was certain they
were both going to be naked within moments…
“And here I was
thinking they only liked me because I used to chain them down and ride
them…like ponies.”
The words were
nothing more than a husky whisper, dripping with sin and sensuality, and the
eyes held none of the childish innocence he was use to seeing. In fact, they were positively filled with
the seductive promises of a siren and for a brief moment he was lost to the
very thing he’d been raving about. Then
an impish smirk crossed her face, her eyes lit up in pure amusement and she
pulled herself out from under him just as his arms gave way and he crashed to
the floor.
Ride them like
ponies? Where the hell had that come
from, Spike was certain that Angelus would have mentioned something if the…No
way, she was joking, there was no way in heaven or hell that Angelus would let
a slip of a girl chain him down and do that.
Not even the bloody souled imposter would. Spike on the other hand…
“Hey,” he called out
to her retreating figure, coping another eyeful of her wonderfully swaying
ass. “Where are you going?”
“Blockbusters,” she
answered, disappearing from view as she fetched her jacket from the foyer. “Can’t have a sleepover without
videos.”
By the time Spike
had pushed himself off the floor she was gone, out the front door without a
second glance or even pausing to see if he wanted to come. Bugger that. Before she reached the Summers letterbox, he was by her side,
matching her stride for stride, fervently glancing sideways and catching a
glimpse of the gold top as she buttoned up her coat. He didn’t know if he should be cheering “Woo hoo” that he was the
only one privy to what she was wearing, or rather not wearing, beneath the
jacket or booing because he wanted some big bad creature of the night to try
and show some muscle so he could get into a fight in front of her, over her,
for her.
Hang on, what was he
thinking? He was the big bad creature of the night…walking a red leather clad
witch to Blockbusters. Okay, it wasn’t
really a big bad creature of the night thing. But it could be, considering she was
a witch who was looking damnably tempting in that leather. Plus there was that whole ride them like
ponies thing…
“What are you doing
in that outfit anyway?” Spike asked, patting down his duster in search of his
ciggies, idle hands after all… “Not your
usual glad rags, pet.”
“I’m a wannabe
popstar!” Willow grinned at him, burying her hands in the pockets and glancing
up at the ominous dark clouds that hid the night sky.
“What’s that when
it’s at home?” he lit his cigarette and suddenly realized that she’d
stopped. He turned back only to find
her staring at him, mouth wide open, shock clearly visible on her face. “What?”
“You watch
‘Passions’ but you haven’t heard about ‘Popstars’?” Willow rolled her eyes in
disbelief and Spike shrugged. She shook
her head and continued walking, Spike quickly falling into step with her
again. “That’s a sad thing, Spike.”
Spike took a deep
drag on his cigarette, hiding his smirk, he wasn’t going to let anyone in on
exactly what television shows he watched.
“Why the hell would you want to dress like one anyway?”
“I’m going to a
party later on tonight, it’s a come as you aren’t deal, I’m a Popstar, Anya and
Xander are going as a couple…”
“I thought it was go
as you aren’t? Don’t tell me they’re no
longer merrily joined at the hip,” Spike grimaced, letting the smoke escape
with his words.
“They’re doing a
role reversal thing…”
“You mean the
Twinkie is going to pull on a pair of trousers then?” Spike warily glanced up
at the heavy clouds as a rumble of thunder sounded. Beside him, Willow laughed.
“Well, no. Anya is going as the guy and Xander is going
in a dress,” Willow increased her pace slightly as a flash of lightning lit up
the otherwise dark street. “They were
meant to be helping me with getting things ready for Dawn’s party…but
apparently Xander is just too sexy in a dress for Anya to leave alone.”
Spike smirked. “I bet she’s got him wearing stockings and
frilly knickers.”
“Don’t forget the
stilettos ~ it was surprisingly easy to find a pair which fitted him,” Willow
frowned momentarily. “I think I should
be disturbed by that fact.”
“Why?” asked Spike,
chucking away his cigarette butt as they reached Blockbusters. “Old Sunnyhell is just full of
surprises. Where’s your blonde piece of
stuff tonight? How come she’s not
helping you?”
“Guest lecturer for
one of her classes,” Willow pushed open
the door and smiled at the two clerks manning the counter. “It’s a late class and she’s going to meet
us at the party.”
“So it’s just you
doing the decorations?” asked Spike, wondering how she’d gotten so much done in
such a short period of time and following her along the various isles of
videos.
“Yep, and getting
the videos. Then that’s it,” Willow
picked up a video, turning it over in her hands to scan the cover. “The decorations were easy ~ everything was
ready and down in the basement, I just had to bring them up basically.”
“The basement?” Spike asked ludicrously, surely Dawn must
have known about it all.
“Strange things have
been known to happen in that basement, everyone avoids it,” she stated,
understanding the meaning of the question.
Moving on, she picked out another video. Spike didn’t know if she was doing her bluff thing again, but the
basement was a topic he preferred to avoid.
“So what wonderfully
entertaining videos are you getting the little rug rats?” he grabbed the video
from her hand and frowned at the title.
“Sleepy Hollow?”
“Dawn’s a fan of the
cheekbones…”
“Cheekbones?”
“Johnny Depp, the
man has cheekbones and a jaw to die for,” Willow smiled goofily, as she tapped
the cover that he held in his hands.
Turning on her heel, she walked away, leaving Spike to follow her,
clenching his jaw muscle and pursing his lips at every opportunity that
arose.
And there were quite
a few of them. Every time Willow picked
up a video, Spike would purse his lips in consideration, leaning over her and
clenching his jaw before giving an opinion.
She’d simply roll her eyes or scowl at him prior to shoving the video
into his hands and walking away. Of
course the best opportunity he had was when the storm broke, in a flash of
light and crash of sound the heavens opened and it poured, the sudden din
startling Willow and Spike had jumped at the chance to almost crush her against
the shelves of the video isle they were in.
He’d smirked down at her, their bodies intimately pressed together and
she’d patted his shoulder reassuringly and told him that there was nothing to
be frightened of it was just a storm.
The smirk turned into a snarl and she walked away from him again,
leaving him to follow.
Spike wasn’t sure
why he spent the next hour following her around the damn store, he could have
blamed the storm, perhaps even boredom.
Those could even explain his need to trail his fingers across her,
attracting her attention or whispering various things in her ear, causing her
to giggle and even blush once. But he
knew, was certain that it had absolutely nothing to do with the ‘ride them like
ponies’ comment that kept echoing about his mind.
Nope, nothing at
all.
Nor did it have
anything to do with the fact that she just kept walking away. Time and time again he’d corner her and with
some sharp remark, she’d grin at him and walk away. Nobody walked away from him
and he couldn’t work out why he was letting her do it…okay, that was a lie, he
just loved to watch her walk in those leather pants, even if her ass was
covered by her jacket. Maybe it was her
comments, like saying he was obsessed with sex, pointing out that he’d picked
up nearly every video that had some type of phallic symbol on the cover and
suggesting, in her subtle way, that he was gay. It hadn’t helped that he’d been holding onto a video with a
lighthouse on the cover at the time, a quick glance down at the gigantic
cock-like structure with the little square cottage attached to the side of it
certainly seemed to agree with her theory.
He’d had to resort to name calling again after that.
Of course there was
one advantage to following her around and holding onto the selected
videos. Or so he thought until they
ended up at the front desk, having the videos scanned and she hit him, hard.
“What the hell was
that for?” Spike bellowed, scowling down at her.
“You swapped covers
on the video,” Willow stated through gritted teeth.
“Does it
matter? It’s a period piece,” he
smirked, rubbing his chest where she’d landed the solid blow. “Has lots of corsets, feathers pretending to
be writing implements and people wandering around going ‘how frightfully
frightful’.”
“‘The Draughtsman’s
Contract’ is not suitable for a fifteen year olds birthday party. These girls aren’t getting anything above a
PG13 rating,” Willow declared, smiling at the cashier as she was handed her
change. Spike stretched over the
counter, picking up “Sleepy Hollow” before the clerk had a chance to put it in
the bag and waved it in front of her…the R rating clearly visible. Snatching it away from him, Willow handed
the video back to the clerk and did her best to ignore her blond shadow as he
followed her through the security system so she could collect the videos from
the other side. “There’s always an
exception.”
“Yeah, right,”
smirked Spike, pulling out his cigarettes as she tucked her wallet away and
sighed at the rain that was still dribbling outside. “’The Draughtsman’s Contract’ would’ve been a damn sight more fun
than all the sappy crap you got them.”
“Oh please, they’re
fourteen and fifteen year olds. It’s
either sappy crap, as you put it, or scary crap and they’ve got both in ‘Sleepy
Hollow’,” she insisted even as Spike rolled his eyes and shook his head, his
opinion of scary being slightly different to some headless goon riding around
chopping off heads. “Buffy and Joyce
were very specific that they didn’t want to have scary stuff. Besides, they’re girls…news flash, we like
sappy stuff.”
“Oh yeah, you lot
are all love letters, flowers and chocolates,” Spike said sarcastically,
lighting up a cigarette and giving the scowling young cashier the one finger
salute. “The next thing you’ll be
telling me is you’re all dying for some snot to write poetry and moon over you.
None of you soddin’ pieces like that shit.”
Spike ground his
teeth together, so lost in his own thoughts that the soft voice beside him
startled him.
“Oz used to write me
songs,” she admitted quietly. Spike
turned and she was totally oblivious that he was watching her as she continued
to stare out the glass doors at the rain.
“Kind of like poetry, if you wanted to make comparisons, and I…well, I
treasured them,” she shrugged and dropped her head down, twisting the bag of
videos in her hand, banging them against her leg. “There’s nothing more romantic than having someone who loves you
so much that they are willing to give you their thoughts, their words…”
Spike stared, he
couldn’t help it.
“When everything is
said and done, memories fade but those words, the thoughts and emotions they
represent, you always have them,” Willow sighed and glanced up at the cerulean
gaze firmly fixed on her. “I…I guess
that’s just me though, everyone has their own opinion about what’s romantic.”
The cigarette
continued to smolder, unnoticed in his fingers, the ash falling from the
glowing tip. He couldn’t move, he was
caught between her words and the green eyes, enthralled by the uninhibited
emotions they held.
“Rain’s stopped,
pet,” Spike stated, turning away and pushing open the door as the store manager
started to make her way towards them to protest about smoking in the
store. Gallantly, he held the door open
for the witch, in fact he just wanted to catch another glimpse of the red
leather. He was content to follow her back to the house, smoking his cigarette
lost in the view of the long legs moving in leather as his thoughts spun. There were too many comments to consider,
too many conflicting ideas and they were all centered on the witch in front of
him. So much so that it was a total
shock to Spike as they walked through the front door of the Summers residence.
And it was a sight
for sore eyes as Willow slipped off her jacket, bearing her back and ass to him
once more and he sighed audibly as she tossed the jacket onto one of the lounge
chairs. The sight of those wonderful
red leather pants obliterated any conflicting thoughts or emotions.
“What?” asked
Willow, frowning at him over her shoulder.
“Nothing,” Spike
stated, slipping off his duster and chucking it down to cover her coat,
plonking himself back down on the couch.
It was the only place to be, he had a clear view of the witch as she
went about her business, bending over in those tight pants to arrange the hired
videos, tidying up the various bits and pieces that needed fixing for the
party. Conversation was easy while he
watched her, it was nothing important, just teasing comments, trying to get a
response…none of it seemed to work though and he wondered if he was losing his
touch. It was when she brought out the
bowls of sweets and chips that the real trouble started.
Spike was
hungry. The chips and sweets did
nothing for him though. He had a yearning that he was sure the Summers
residence could satisfy. Idly, he pushed himself off the couch, turning in the
general direction of the kitchen.
“What are you
doing?” Willow asked, stepping in front of him, alarmed at his sudden need to
vacate the couch and disrupt her party headquarters.
“Going to make some
popcorn,” Spike leant over her and pursed his lips. “Got to have something to eat while you dillydally around.”
“Don’t even think
about it mister,” Willow narrowed her eyes, giving him the best threatening
look she could muster. “The girls are
not going to be short of popcorn just because you got hungry.”
“You offering me
something else to snack on then?” he was certain that would make her step
aside. Instead, she looked
contemplative, her fingers straying to her neck.
“Well, if you could
puncture the package…”
“One day,” he
growled, taking a step closer. “I
will…until then, popcorn.”
“No,” stated
Willow. “There are 25 individual serves
of popcorn in that kitchen and they are specifically for the girls. I’m serious, Spike,” she warned as he tried
to brush past her. “Don’t make me hurt
you.”
“Yeah, that’ll be
the day,” he chuckled. It was the wrong
thing to say, she kicked his knees out and pushed him with all her strength,
sending him sprawling onto the solid coffee table. “Hey!”
“I may not be the
Slayer,” she stated, standing in front of him, legs spread, chastising him with
a wagging finger. “But I can still levitate wood and call on the four elements.
Remember, fire’s not your friend.”
“Are you threatening
me?”
“Yes, touch the
popcorn and you die.”
That was it...she
was going down. Lunging, he caught her
hips, pulling her down onto his lap.
There’s nothing like physical contact to catch a person or vampire off
guard, he didn’t expect that she’d not keep her balance and end up head butting
him, which of course meant that he’d hurt her.
The cry of pain was simultaneous.
“Ow, bloody hell,”
Spike hissed holding his forehead while the other was firmly clamped about
Willow’s naked waist. He leant forward,
resting his head on her shoulder, listening to the teasing pounding of her
heart. “You going to kiss it better,
love?”
“Oh please,” scowled
Willow, too busy with her own pain to really care about his.
“One day you’ll be
begging me…”
Willow warily
glanced sideways at the blond, her head pounding from the blow. This was just
the perfect ending to a horrible night.
All night she’d put up with it, the constant innuendo, and she was fed
up. Payback was a bitch and tonight its
name was Willow.
“I bet,” she
whispered to him, dropping her fingers down to play with his t-shirt. “I could
make you beg.”
Suddenly the pain
stopped, the fingers stroking his chest circled and moved lower, continuing
down to caress his belt buckle.
Bet? Beg? Maybe the chip was starting to mess with his
hearing.
His eyes dropped
down, watching her pale fingers run across the black leather and silver
buckle. If this was a chip malfunction
he was starting to like it…then again, she could just be playing.
“I never beg,” Spike
was willing to see how far she was going to go. Hell, if they both ended up naked all the better!
“According to you,”
she smiled slightly, her fingers curling about the leather, pulling it free of
the buckle and she bit her bottom lip.
“Maybe you’ve been begging the whole time and not known it.”
Spike growled, his
hands encompassing her hips and pulling her in sharply against him, grunting at
the sensation, her fingers still fiddling with his belt. “Perhaps you’re the one who’s been begging,
Red.”
“Did I say you could
touch me?” her voice was cold and demanding, the green eyes narrowing in anger
and Spike chuckled.
“Oh come on, little
girl. You can’t even begin to
understand how to play this game,” laughter tainted his voice as he kept his
hands on her hips, giving a squeeze to aggravate her. She bowed her head, meekly tilting it to the side to glance up at
him with big innocent eyes, a tiny smile gracing her lips.
“You shouldn’t
underestimate me, Spike,” she whispered, making him raise an eyebrow. It was a moment of grace for the vampire
before he was slammed back against the coffee table, his hands suddenly above
his head and his eyes widened in shock as his leather belt wrapped about
them. The leather was tugged tight and
she dragged herself across his prostrate form and he had to bite back a moan of
pleasure as she sat astride his stomach.
Okay, maybe he had underestimated her and dear god, why the hell did she
have to wear a top when her breasts were so close to his mouth…hang on, what
the hell was she doing? The leather
tightened again and he grunted, flexing his fingers and coming in contact with
the heavy wooden leg of the coffee table.
He tugged and his hands didn’t move.
“Bad boy.”
Bad boy?
“Oh, baby, you don’t
know how bad I can be,” Spike smirked, if she wanted to play he was more than
up for a round…literally. He was just
dying for her to back up, run that wicked leather clad ass over him, it’d make
him growl. But she didn’t.
“I loathe being
called ‘baby’, makes my skin crawl,” Willow ran her flat palm across his chest
until she found one of his nipples, surprisingly hard under the soft cotton,
and twisted it between thumb and forefinger.
Spike scowled at her, tucking the information away, and trying to
dislodge her by bucking his hips.
Unfortunately, her position on his stomach meant it had no effect, she
tutted and shook her head. “Silly
boy…don’t you want to play?”
Spike raised an
eyebrow, oh he’d show her how to play and she’d forfeit to him. Half-heartedly he twisted his wrists,
testing the strength of the leather, and it tightened, digging into the
flesh. Clenching his jaw, he watched
her. Those damn green eyes were fixed on him, looking through him, her fingers
exploring his chest and worst of all she was slowly rocking her hips to move
back down his body. Fine, let her have
her five minutes of fun, of superiority, then he’d bust the damn belt and show
her exactly how to make someone beg…and what did she think she was doing?? Where the hell had the silk scarf come from?
“You know,” she
slipped her hips back, making him moan, her breasts coming to rest on his chest
and she dragged the scrap of silk along his face. “I love sensation and nothing heightens it more than disabling
one of the senses…”
And then there was
darkness for him. Surrounded by warmth,
sound and smell, he’d succumb to the siren’s song and was drowning in her. The fingers dragging over his face, so warm
they burnt a path, meandering down his neck and…and…oh dear lord, she was
sliding down his body, he could feel every single inch of movement, knew when
leather came in contact with denim and then there was that gorgeous broad
expanse of hot flesh.
Spike groaned,
arching up into the contact as she kept sliding downwards. In her wake was a trail of hot air, her
panting breath burning through the fabric of his t-shirt and…fingers, oh yeah,
the fingers were working on his jeans, pulling the fly apart and making him
arch up into her palm.
“Oh…my…”
Spike smirked,
angling his hips to get more pressure as the heat of her breath brushing across
his groin made his erection throb even more.
He’d let her play for a little while longer and then she’d be saying so
much more than ‘oh my’. The fingers
left his groin and he growled, disappointed as the digits continued downwards,
stopping to play with his boots.
Then there was
nothing. Spike listened intently
waiting for her next move…the soft creak of leather. He bit his tongue and clenched his fists. Undoubtedly she was inching her way out of
those red leather pants. What he would
give to be free of the damn blindfold so he could watch…he could imagine how
much bloody wiggling and writhing she’d have to do just to get them down and
then there was that whole having nothing on underneath and the…
Click.
Click? Creaking leather to click?
“Willow.”
Silence, complete
and utter silence.
“Love?”
Spike waited, but
there was absolutely nothing. He tugged
on his hands and his feet got pulled back.
“What the fuck?”
Of course no one
answered and he tried pulling his booted feet from their lowered position, the
leather tightened painfully around his wrists.
“Bloody little
witch,” he hissed, realizing she’d linked the two together somehow. He was going to kill her. She’d left him, tied down to the bloody
coffee table with his jeans undone and…and…and the jeep roared as it pulled
into the driveway.
“RED!!!!”
vvvv