TITLE: Fascination 2/?

 

AUTHOR: jodyorjen

 

PAIRING: Spike/Willow

 

RATING: NC-17 overall

 

SPOILERS: Season 6 through “Normal Again.”

 

DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. GO team! Theirs, not mine.

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask my permission first, just so I know where it’s headed.

 

FEEDBACK: Sure, fire away to [email protected]

 

It sounded really romantic. Rose petals strewn in a thick carpet on the floor, and gently scattered across the bed. Considering that I was angry and upset prior to the floral sneak attack, picking up a roomful of little bits of American Beauty was leaving me feeling as amorous as a trip to the dentist.

 

I should have used a dustbuster. That would have cleaned up the mess in a snap. Vroom, vroom, no more rose petals. But if I did that, they would be mangled, ruined, and sucked into oblivion. Two thousand and three, two thousand and four, two thousand and five, I counted. I placed the last petal into the shoebox and put the lid on, setting it on my dresser.

 

I was running late for class now, thanks to Operation Cleanup. It had taken nearly two hours to fix the mess that Spike had made in my bedroom and bathroom, and I’d cut my hand on broken glass. So now I had a bandage on my hand to match the one on my neck, plus the cut and a bruise on my shoulder from Spike’s mouth. No Spike thoughts, Will, I chastised myself. Don’t even go there.

 

I shoved my books in my backpack and hurried downstairs. Tara was standing in the foyer, waving a censer, scented smoke billowing around her in a cloud.

Her new girlfriend sat on the couch in the living room, chatting with Buffy. Perfect. “Hello,” I said, putting on a cheerful front.

 

Tara turned to me with a sweet smile. “Hi, Willow.” She was beautiful and nice, just like always. She had a wonderful glow of love about her, and it wasn’t from me.

 

“What brings you here this morning?” I asked, pulling on my jacket.

 

“I have to do a  deinvite for Spike,” she replied. “Buffy asked me to come over first thing.” Anger bubbled up inside me. Buffy hadn’t even asked me. I lived here too. For all she knew, we could be dating, and she’d made sure he couldn’t come inside? I turnedto face her, and took in the set of her jaw and the anger in her eyes. I didn’t have time for a fight, and

I wasn’t about to do it in front of Tara.

 

“I have to go,” I said. I went out the front door and ran for the bus stop. Midway down the block, I saw the bus pull away from the curb in a plume of exhaust.

“Damn it!” I looked at my watch. If I had managed to catch that one, I would have been ten minutes late. Now I was screwed.

 

“Fancy a lift, pet?” said a droll voice. I spun around. Spike’s DeSoto was pulled up to the curb right next to me. I crossed the street and hurried away from him. “You’re going to miss your class,” he called from the barely cracked open window. “You’d best get in.”

 

I needed to be there, to take notes for my final. I walked around the car and opened the door, sliding in.

“Drive fast,” I said. “And don’t take this as a hopeful sign. I wouldn’t be with you if I weren’t desperate.”

 

I expected a witty comeback, but I didn’t get one. He just handed me a cup and a paper sack and hit the accelerator. It was an iced cappuccino with extra foam and a banana nut muffin. My favorites. I turned to look at him. “Thought you might fancy a bit of breakfast,” he said. “I figured that you’d need a little pick-me-up. I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.” He turned to look at me. “How’s your neck?”

 

“Fine,” I replied in a clipped tone. It ached, and so did my shoulder. I felt hungover, my body stiff and my head throbbing.

 

“Look, I know you’re pissed off,” he said. “And you have a right to be. But I wasn’t planning on what happened between us last night, or I would have told you about Buffy and I. Not that there’s really a whole lot to tell.”

 

“It doesn’t matter now,” I said. “It’s a little late for honesty.”

 

His hands clenched the steering wheel tightly. “Willow, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck things up like this. Just give me a chance to set things right.”

 

“No,” I said, taking a big swig of coffee.

 

He stopped at a red light and turned to me. “Look here, Willow. I’m not asking for your eternal love and devotion. Just give me a shot.”

 

“A shot at what?” I asked him.

 

“You,” he said. “Maybe us.” His face was free of pretense, open and honest.

 

“The light is green,” I pointed out, and he turned back.

 

We drove in silence until we reached the campus. He pulled into a parking space behind Ruhl Hall. “Ten minutes to spare,” he commented. “Better than if you’d caught your bus.”

 

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, as I reached for the handle.

 

He put his hand over mine. “You and I, we were good together last night. Not just in bed. I liked walking with you and talking with you.” He stroked my hair, his fingers brushing across my jaw. “Let me just take you out somewhere. No strings, I promise.” I turned to look at him, and he brushed a kiss across my lips, tentative and sweet.

 

“I don’t trust you,” I said. “You hurt me and I can’t even think about forgiving you right now.”

 

“Then don’t,” he said. “Just let me see you tonight.” His eyes were a soft blue, and his eyelashes were so long. I’d had sex with this beautiful man, I thought, despite myself. Steamy, fantastic sex. I realized he was waiting for an answer.

 

“I can’t,” I told him. “I’m going to dinner with Xander.”

 

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You have a date with monkey boy?”

 

My temper flared. “It’s really not any of your business,” I said.

 

“Bullshit,” he said angrily. “After last night-“ his grip tightened on my wrist, hurting me. I hit him in the head with the muffin. Bits of crumb topping and pastry smashed into his hair and fell to his shoulders. He let me go, his eyes wide. I threw the drink on his chest, and the top popped off, sending a big splash over his shirt. Slamming the car door shut, I walked into the building, and I could feel his eyes following me.

 

****

 

An hour later, I walked out of the lecture hall with a blank page instead of my usual copious notes. Ordinarily I loved my seminar in abnormal psychology, but today I was unable to focus on anything. I headed across campus and up the steps off my old dorm before I remembered that I didn’t live there anymore.

 

I usually spent the afternoon at the library, studying. I settled into my carrel and tried to get enthused. I wanted to let the memories of last night go, and just focus on my work. But it was all too intense, the feeling of Spike inside me, the tenderness on his face when he held me, the pain of overhearing his talk with Buffy. Seeing Tara had stirred up a whole other set of emotions. Every time I saw her, I felt overcome with sorrow and regret.

 

After a fruitless hour reading the same page over and over, I gave up. I found myself walking to the cemetery, to Spike’s crypt. He answered my knock, a guarded look on his face. A black shirt hung open over his bare chest, a pair of jeans low on his hips, and he held a book in his hand. “Willow,” he said, surprised.

 

“I need to get a few things straight with you,” I began. “And instead of just having these little conversations in my head, I thought it would make more sense if I actually spoke to you.”

 

“Okay,” he agreed. I walked into the crypt and he picked up some things off the floor and shoved them into a box. “Can I get you a Snapple?” he offered. “I have the raspberry kind you like.”

 

“Sure,” I replied. He brought me the drink and sat down next to me on the couch. I was very aware of him so close to me, and I flashed back to his leg the night before, rubbing between my thighs. I slid over, as far away from him as I could. “I’m sorry about the muffin,” I apologized. “You made me really mad, but I shouldn’t have done it. And you shouldn’t grab me when you’re angry. I don’t like it, and I won’t stand for it.”

 

“I won’t do it again,” he promised. “I’m sorry that I lost my temper.”

 

I looked at the book that he’d been reading. “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” I commented. “That’s funny, I’m reading that for my Latin American Literature class.”

 

“It’s not your copy,” he said defensively. “I bought my own.”

 

“I wasn’t accusing you of stealing mine,” I explained. “I just thought it was a weird coincidence.” He looked at me for a moment and then leaned forward and pulled a cigarette from the pack on the table. He lit it and slid the ashtray in front of himself. Puffing strongly on his cigarette, he jiggled his leg and tapped his other hand on his knee. I realized he was nervous. My coming here had caught him off guard.

 

“What happened last night,” I began. “Was it the blood that made you want to have sex, or was it me?”

 

“Both,” he said at once. “Drinking from you, I’ve wanted that since I first laid eyes on you. Sex with you-“ he paused. “I’d thought about it before. I figured that maybe I had a chance with you, before you and Tara became serious. You were the only one who was kind to me, and I thought we had good chemistry.”

 

That was a shock. “I never thought of you that way before last night, and it took me by surprise. The sex was amazing, especially in my bed, when you were so gentle and sweet. I thought that you were over Buffy, and maybe you wanted to date me.”

 

“You had it right, Willow,” he said softly. “That is what I want.”

 

“Buffy is my best friend,” I reminded him. “I’m not going to date you to help you get back at her.”

 

“That isn’t why I chose you,” he said. “Although it is kind of a bonus. She really hurt me, and it did feel good to hurt her a bit too.” He lit another cigarette and got a beer from his refrigerator.

 

I looked at him. “How long were you guys together?”

 

“Three months,” he said, swigging his drink. “She broke up with me a week before the wedding that wasn’t.”

 

“Why didn’t any of us know about the two of you?” I asked him.

 

“She didn’t want anyone to find out,” he explained. “She was ashamed of me.” The quiet words belied the deep pain and hurt that I sensed beneath them.

 

“Why did you stand for that?” I asked him, turning his face to mine. “Why did you sleep with someone who was embarrassed of you?” I ran my hand through his hair, driven by the need to soothe him.

 

“I loved her,” he said. “You of all people understand how much I loved her. I would have done anything she wanted.”

 

“That kind of love, it never leaves you,” I revealed. “It’s always there, underneath.” I kissed his cheek, and he shut his eyes and turned away.

 

“I knew you’d understand,” he said. “I’ve seen how you act with Tara, and I know she makes you hurt the same way Buffy hurts me.” He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back on the armrest. He seemed confident and assured once more, all hesitancy and nervousness gone. “There’s no need to sacrifice ourselves on the altar of unrequited love. Not when we’re so good together.” He looked at me, a raw carnal gaze that I felt down to my toes.

 

“I don’t think that we should have sex again,” I told him. “It was supposed to be just one single moment, something urgent but ultimately meaningless.” I swallowed, my mouth dry. “But the way you made me feel, it was something more.”

 

“We’re well suited, you and I,” he said, his eyes never leaving me. “It’s not just physical, it’s deeper than that. There’s something more interesting going on between us than just two bodies slapping together.” He leaned towards me and put his hand behind me on the back of the couch. He slid his fingers across my thigh.

 

“Spike-“ I began, but he put his fingers to my lips, tracing their outline.

 

“We already had sex, why should we deny ourselves?” he said huskily. “Being inside of you was amazing.” My heart sped up, and he slipped his fingers across the pulse of my neck. He kissed me and then his mouth moved lower down, sucking on my nipple through the thin silk of my blouse. I took a shuddered breath as he gently slid me down so that I lay on the couch. He rested over me, and I held his shoulders as his mouth worked at my breasts, mouthing them through my shirt until the front was soaked through. He unbuttoned it and slid it over my wrists. I lay there in my bra, a low satin demi cup the color of garnets. “Red’s a naughty girl,” he said admiringly.

 

“It matched my outfit,” I said lamely. “That’s all.”

 

He gave me a knowing look and popped open the front clasp. “You’re so beautiful. Such pure white skin, so pale and lovely.” He licked at my nipples with his tongue, tiny delicate strokes like a cat. He unbuttoned my pants and slid his hand over my stomach, then across the satin thong that I was wearing. “You dressed up for me, the bra, the knickers.”

 

“I didn’t,” I said. Well, not consciously.

 

He snapped the side of the thong. “This is for me, I know it. Worlds away from the little cotton flowered number you had on last night.”

 

“I just felt like something a little different,” I said. He licked my breasts and rolled them in his hands, avoiding my nipples. I gently nudged his head towards them but he ignored my hints.

 

“Please,” I whimpered.

 

He looked up at me, his eyes gone dark with passion. “What do you want, love?” he asked, kissing my lower lip tenderly.

 

“More,” I said simply. He picked me up and carried me over to his bed. “Not sex though. Just a little fooling around won’t hurt anyone.”

 

“Okay,” he said, as he took off his pants. He yanked off mine as well, tossing them aside.

 

“Why are you getting naked then?” I asked him.

 

“Just in case,” he said. He pushed my thong aside and shoved two fingers inside me, slipping them in and out as he sucked hard on my nipple. My body melted, and I felt his fingers grow wet and slick.

 

“Spike,” I moaned, as his fingers plucked and stroked me, penetrating me deeply. “Spike.”

 

“Willow,” he said, and his mouth closed over my ear. He pumped gently until I came, gasping for air. He nibbled at my shoulder, his tongue sliding along the scab from my razor cut.

 

He let me wind down and then began to move his fingers again. They slid over a sensitive area, and I felt the urge to bear down. His finger hit just the right spot, and it became unbearably overpowering. I tensed up, feeling a pressure on my bladder. “Keep going,” he said in my ear. “Just let yourself go. It’s your

G-spot. If you don’t make me stop, it will feel so good.”

 

I relaxed into the sensation. It felt like I had to pee, only sharper and deeper. His mouth licked and sucked at my nipple as he moved his fingers within me.

He kept up the pace for a long time, not rushing me. His gentle movements caused the pressure to slowly build up. “Yes,” I cried out. “Oh, God.” I felt the fluid gush over his fingers as the intense orgasm rolled through me.

 

“I have to taste you everywhere,” he said breathily. “I want to swallow your come.” He buried his face between my thighs, vigorously sucking. He slurped and licked, greedily lapping at my lips, my clit, up and down my walls.

 

I screamed as an orgasm assaulted me, swift and brutal. “Spike,” I cried out. “Take me, take me now.”

 

He pulled his mouth away and ripped off the thong, slipping his cock inside me. It was even better than I remembered from last night. I was still bucking from my orgasm and the added sensation of him inside me kicked it into overdrive. I bit his chest as he pumped vigorously. “I love making you come,” he growled. “I love the way your whole body turns pink and your toes curl up.” He licked my neck and cupped my breasts as he stroked.

 

“Too much,” I cried out, hammered by the intensity of being with him.

 

“Never enough,” he said, kissing me hard. He stared down at me. “I’m fucking you, Willow. I’m driving inside you, making you mine. You like it like this, don’t you?”

 

“Harder,” I cried out. “Please.” He moved my ankle up over his shoulder, and he closed his eyes as he banged against my cervix. “Anh,” I said, strangled. I ripped my nails across his chest as I came, my muscles tightening all around his cock.

 

“Fuck,” he cried out. “Fuck.” We came together, both of us shamelessly screaming. He pulled away from me and curled into my back, kissing my neck and shoulder.

I was filled with peace, a glorious glow that I’d thought had been lost forever.

 

“I had a great let’s just be friends speech planned,” I said when I could speak again.

 

He laughed and licked my ear. “Let’s hear it.”

 

“We’ve known each other a long time,” I began, “and I really respect you as a person.” His hand snaked around my front and rubbed my clit. ”I’m sorry that things got so out of hand, and I really want to continue our friendship.” Three fingers slid inside me and began to pump. “So I think it’s best if we just handle this like two adults.” I felt a finger trace

 my bottom, and slowly work its way inside my anus. I gasped as he rolled me on my stomach.

 

“Don’t stop, pet,” he whispered as he worked me with both of his hands. “It’s a very compelling talk. Well thought out.” He massaged my G-spot, and I could feel his fingers rubbing together through the thin membrane between ass and vagina. I cried out as I began to come. His finger pulled out of my ass and he slipped his cock inside slowly, burning me. “Trust me,” he said, kissing my neck. “My lovely one.” He pumped with his fingers and stroked with his cock, and everything exploded. He buried his face in the back of my neck as he yelled, and I felt the liquid stream of him pour inside me. He moved a few more strokes before withdrawing.

 

“I’ve never done that before,” I admitted. “I thought it would hurt, or be gross. But it wasn’t.” I rolled over and rested my head on his shoulder. He moved his mouth to mine, and it felt so right, being with him.

 

“We’re never going back to just friends, Willow,” he said softly. The look in his eyes was intense, and his voice had the ring of a promise, or a threat.

 

Blood drinking, bad touching, sex in the naughty place. I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it. I was in over my head.

 

****

 

“The whole thing just snowballed,” Xander said animatedly. “I found myself wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.” I sipped on a glass of wine as I put a breadstick on my plate. The piped in music was getting on my nerves and the air conditioning was on too high. I pulled my cardigan over my shoulders. “I’m not really sure that I loved Anya,” he explained. “I miss her, and I really regret hurting her, but I’m not sure how I feel.”

 

“If you weren’t sure, then you made the right choice,” I said. “Marriage is a huge step. You were right to

wait.” I dipped the breadstick in alfredo sauce and took a bite.

 

“I just think that I need someone else,” he said. “Someone that I could build a future with.”

 

“If you’re looking for long-term, that is important,” I said. “Your goals and dreams should mesh.”

 

“I want a woman that I have a history with, that I’ve had feelings for that go back a long time.” He looked deep into my eyes.

 

I felt a tingle creep into my cheeks. “That sounds good, Xander,” I said. “That sounds nice.” Maybe, this time…

 

“Someone like Buffy. Do you think that she’s over Riley?” he asked earnestly. “Do you think I have a shot?”

 

I was dumbfounded. Buffy? First Spike,  now Xander. Everyone wanted Buffy. It was always all about Buffy.

I reached for my wineglass, knocking it over. Xander leaned back, avoiding the splash. My new white linen dress was soaked with red wine. “Sorry,” I apologized.

 

“It’s fine,” he said.

 

“I should go get cleaned up,” I said, as I stepped away from the table. I walked down the hallway to the ladies room and dabbed at the stain with a paper towel as I stood in front of the mirrored wall. I reached up to fix my hair and a cool hand grabbed my wrist and turned me around. Spike stood before me, dressed in a black wool suit, a red tie around his neck.

 

“Spike!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Fancied having cannelloni al forno and a bit of tiramisu.” He pulled me into a stall and pressed me against the door. He captured my chin in his hands and kissed me as he leaned in, so that we were touching from chest to ankle. His body was so hard underneath me, and mine fired at his touch. We kissed thoroughly, as his hands roamed over my body, sliding across my dress.

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I gasped, as I broke the kiss.

 

“I love the way you taste,” he said huskily. “Your mouth, your skin, your sweet little clit,” he purred, kissing my neck as he slid his hand underneath my skirt.

 

“Stop that,” I said, batting his wrist away.

 

“You’re driving me mad,” he whispered, his hands cradling my ass. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

 

I felt his cock pushing against my stomach, and the urge to take him inside me washed over me in a powerful wave. I closed my eyes, trying to shove away the lust that seized my body. “I told you I had plans with Xander,” I said firmly. ”You shouldn’t be here.” I pushed at his chest with my palms, putting some distance between us.

 

“You didn’t tell me that I couldn’t come to the same restaurant,” he pointed out.

 

“I didn’t tell you I was coming here,” I told him. “Which means that you followed me here, and that is just not cool.”

 

“You should have broken your date with the idiot,” he complained. He looked at me appreciatively, running a hand through my hair. “You look so beautiful all dressed up, and I want to rip his chubby little head off for looking at you.”

 

“We aren’t a couple, Spike,” I reminded him. “You have no right to be jealous. And even if we were, you still couldn’t act like this. It’s a little psychotic, tailing me into the ladies room to get a happy.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “Buffy-” he began.

 

Buffy, again. “You know what, Spike?” I said angrily. “I am so deeply sick of hearing about Buffy. Why don’t you go fuck her, since she’s the one you really want?” I walked out of the stall and left him there.

 

****

 

Things had only gone downhill from there. After I pled a headache, Xander had dropped me off at home. I decided to focus on my work, which usually soothed me and helped put things in perspective. I began my notes for a research paper, then realized that I had forgotten to buy the pivotal text that I needed. I walked all the way downtown to the bookstore, and spent seventy-five bucks for a book that I would never want to read again after this project. My backpack had split halfway back, dumping the contents all over the sidewalk as the heavy book smashed into my foot. I limped home and dressed in my most comfortable nightie and had a cup of cocoa, trying to diffuse the tension that had locked up my neck and shoulders. Feeling much more relaxed, I set to work in the dining room, straightening my notes and research materials into careful piles. A few minutes later, I heard a rhythmic thumping, right over my head. It sounded like- no, it couldn’t be.

 

I walked to the foyer and slowly went up the stairs. Unmistakably, a male groan was followed quickly by

Buffy’s cry of pleasure. Go fuck Buffy, I’d snapped at Spike. The noise began again, the crash of the bed meeting the wall interspersed with gasps and moans. My mind was flooded with images of the two of them screwing like mad, and it hurt, hurt so much I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I turned and ran out of the house. Midway down the block I sank to my knees, unable to see where I was going with my eyes full of tears.

 

Spike and Buffy were having sex. In my supreme idiocy, I had sent him to her. I didn’t want him with her, I wanted him with me. He was weird and stalkery and, well, dead, but he could be so sweet and nice and he’d even bought me a muffin. I loved the way he kissed me, and smiled at me, and said my name. The tears began to fall as I huddled in a pile on the sidewalk.

 

“Red!” said a familiar voice. Spike hauled me to my feet and held me close. “What’s the matter, love?” he asked, concerned. “Are you hurt?” He looked at me closely. “Why are you running around at night in your nightgown?”

 

I backed away, trying to stop the tears. “B-buffy,” I managed to stammer out through my sobs.

 

“Buffy’s fine,” he said, puzzled. “She’s at home.”

 

I cried louder. “I know she’s at home,” I cried. “I heard you and Buffy in her room-“

 

He smiled suddenly. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not the one upstairs knocking boots with the Slayer-“

 

I cut him off with a kiss, overwhelmed with relief. He kissed me back vehemently. “Spike,” I whispered, slipping my hands under his shirt. “Oh, Spike.”

 

He pulled me back into the bushes, leaning me up against the side of someone’s house. He covered my mouth with his as he lifted my skirt and crammed himself inside me. I wasn’t wet, and it hurt. I made a strangled noise and he pulled away.

 

He took a knife from his pocket and put into in my hand, looking into my eyes. I closed my palm around the blade, breaking the skin. He slipped it back in his pocket and brought my bloody hand to his mouth. He began to suck, and I felt the lassitude of last night, the sweet languor filling my veins. I felt myself grow wet around his hard cock, and he began to move. He dropped my hand and kissed me again, fucking me ever so slowly against the vinyl siding.

 

We took our time, making it last, as if we were lying leisurely in bed, instead of being very indecent in a public place. He came and I came, and it was wonderful. It was beautiful, under the stars, holding each other. Oddly enough, it was the most romantic moment of my life.

 

He held me tightly as we walked down the dark street. He’d insisted I wear his coat, and I was warm and comfortable inside. We went back to his crypt, and slipped into bed without talking, not wanting to break the beauty of what we’d found. I fell asleep as he held me, pressing gentle kisses across my hair.

 

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