Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: While I have taken the liberty of adding a few characters of my own creation, all of the original BtVS characters and their world belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The WB. The lyrics for "Every You Every Me" belong to Placebo. All are used without permission (I'll return them all unharmed) and no copyright infringement is intended (like most that post, I'm broke, so please don't sue).
Spoilers: All 3 seasons of BtVS, BtVS season 4/Angel season 1 implied.
Summary: Well, it's now early into the year 2048 and Aishling Rosenberg is still hard at work creating a formal archive out of a vast collection of letters, stories, research notes, etc. that her grandmother, Willow, left behind when she died.
Distribution: You want it, it's yours, just let me know where it's going to be living.
Feedback: Is there an author out there who doesn't enjoy getting feedback?
Dedication: For Lucy, for all her wonderfully insightful comments! *hugs*
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Sucker love is heaven sent. You pucker up, our passion's spent. My hearts a tart, your body's rent. My body's broken, yours is spent.
Carve your name into my arm. Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed. Cuz there's nothing else to do, Every me and every you. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Lover
Willow sat close to me and yet she was miles away, distancing herself by using nothing more than simple body language. She was tucked into the corner at the opposite end of the couch, curled up in a tight little ball. I wanted to hold her, to pull her into my lap and whisper words of comfort in her ear. I wanted to just be closer to her, but it was pretty obvious that was something she didn't want.
So I sat there in silence, trying my best to wait patiently until she was ready talk to me. Patience, not always one of my strong suits, now is it? My hands kept fidgeting in my lap. Every few seconds I would cast a furtive glance her way.
And yet, in spite of my impatience, my growing need to touch Willow, to speak to her, I wasn't feeling any sort of distressing emotions coming from her. I felt a very calming sense of resolve, a very true sense of purpose, and oddly, at moments, a sense of peace.
We were linked, somehow. That much was becoming undeniable. I believe that part of it, or at least its sudden growth in strength, was due to the blood we had shared.
I never really had much use for a consort during my heyday. I actually preferred to personally take care of all the important details of my unlife. As for the 'dirty work', well that's what minions were created for. Perhaps it's because I was turned during an age when consorts were no longer needed. Granted, the mid-eighteenth century was not truly modern by any standards, but then to an immortal, what is modern? When does technology cease to advance? When does change stop? Never. Still, even as early as 1753 there was no longer the need for us to hide as we once did. We had more freedom in the world, even if our time out of doors was limited to the hours from dusk 'til dawn. But even in that day and age, the almighty dollar ruled. If you had enough money, anything could be bought, even loyalty. Businesses would stay open late, just to serve us. People would come to us during the daylight hours and never even think to question why our homes were shrouded in darkness. Okay, so my point is that none of us, not a single member of any clutch I have ever belonged to or created as had a consort. Therefore, I'd never paid much attention to the stories that told of the blood bond that could be created between a vampire and a human.
And yet I knew that the blood I had taken from Willow combined with the small amount of my blood she had ingested had deepened whatever connection we already had. I could feel her, her emotions, anyway. This was something we were going to have to explore and learn to control, because I knew it was a two-way link. She could feel my emotions, as well, and I knew that even though we had not been joined this way for very long, my feelings must at moments have been almost devastating for her to share. I will admit to being a very passionate creature, my emotions, be they positive or negative, run deep and strong.
I'm sorry Aishling, but I can no longer simply tell the story, I can not continue to be only a narrator. For the moment, I feel I must approach this from a new angle, to make this different from what I've given you before.
I am struggling now, as I did all those years ago when your grandmother first asked me to share my memories and thoughts with her. Aishling, this is in many ways even more difficult because I fear you will not really understand all that transpired between Willow and myself, not only over that weekend decades ago, but for many, many years afterward.
I know I cannot even begin to put into words the depth of our feelings for one another. We were not in love. We were never 'in love', but we did love each other. Every love is unique. It took me centuries to acquire that knowledge. But that's not really a lesson that requires hundreds of years to learn. I think that even at your tender age of twenty-one, you will agree that no two loves are the same. So I can only hope that you can come to terms with all that I share with you. I regret that you can not turn to Willow now and ask all the questions that I am certain you have. I will try my best to answer any questions you put to me. I just wish we had shared many of our secrets with you before her passing, so that I didn't have to do this alone. So many secrets...
Like the fact that Willow's annual visits to Ireland were times spent with me. Only me. Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself...
After what seemed like an eternity (and I of all people should know what one feels like, or so I thought at the time) Willow let out a huge sigh, then uncurled her long legs and held her arms open to me. I slid across the short distance that separated us and practically threw myself into her embrace.
What was it like to be held by Willow? It was like finally being able to crawl into a soft, warm bed after having spent days without sleep. There was such comfort to be found in her arms, such a sense of peace that would descend upon you when you're that close to her.
God, I pitied Xander because he would never allow himself to experience this. He loved Willow, and yet he couldn't let himself go, let her give to him what she so freely gave to me. And I knew she would, if ever he asked. But then again, perhaps that actually made him the bigger man. Xander wasn't that selfish. He'd never ask, never put his own desires or needs before hers. He was first and foremost Willow's friend.
"Well," Willow said with another deep sigh. "That went better than I expected."
"Willow, I'm so--"
"Angel, don't!" She pushed me away.
Her infamous 'resolve face' was in place and she actually had her hands balled up into little fists.
"I swear," she ground out, "if you say those words, I'll hit you even harder than Xander did!"
I frowned and rubbed my still aching jaw, not doubting for a moment that if she was truly provoked, Willow might attempt to make good on her threat. Still, you know me. What would my life be like without pain?
My mind created a flashback for me and I had the displeasure of reliving those moments in time that Willow was alluding to.
I saw the blow coming long before it landed, but did nothing to deflect it. In spite of the anger I felt toward Xander, after all we'd been through over the past few years, I thought I at least owed the boy that much. One punch. I'd have to see what followed it before deciding what to do after that.
Xander's fist connected squarely with my jaw. [Not bad, kid!] The force behind the blow was enough to send me stumbling backward, and I would have knocked Willow over if she hadn't scurried out of the way.
I recovered quickly and turned to steady Willow, but she continued to back away, sobbing as she moved.
"Please. I said please," she cried. "I don't want you to fight. I'm not worth fighting over."
I was mortified by her words and hung my head in shame.
I was shocked when it was Xander who spoke up first.
"You're wrong Will, very wrong. Obviously Angel and I think you're very much worth fighting for. Please don't do that. Don't put yourself down like that. I love you, okay?"
He paused for just a moment and I felt his eyes on me. "We love you."
I hadn't even begun to put together the words that would express just how much her words had effected me and that boy had managed to just spit them right out.
I looked up to see the pain in Willow's eyes. Perhaps I had been unable to speak first, but she had felt everything I was feeling. It was too much for me, for both of us, and I quickly looked away, turning my gaze toward Xander.
He stood a few feet away, cradling the hand with which he'd hit me. He held it close to his chest and I could see that it had already begun to swell.
"You need to get some ice on that," I said. Then I returned to the kitchen to get the ice, leaving Willow and Xander alone again for a few minutes.
When I came back out to the great room, they were sitting together on the couch, Willow carefully examining Xander's damaged hand and wrist. She took the icepack from me and gently applied it to the injured area.
"I'll be right back," she said as she smiled at Xander and stroked his cheek soothingly with the backs of her fingers. "I have some herbs and things in my room that will help you heal. And I think I've got a little spell that will help with the pain."
Willow stood, but before she walked away she gave both Xander and me one of her stern, reproachful looks.
"You two play nice 'til I get back."
She left us alone for only a few minutes, during which time neither of us spoke. I took a seat on the hearth and just waited for Willow to return.
Of course, once she did, well that's when started to get even more 'interesting'.
Okay, so I never got the chance to apologize then for making Willow feel as though those self-depreciating words needed to be said, but surely now I could say I was sorry.
"Will, I just--"
"You what? What is it that you're going to try to take the blame for now? God, Angel, give it up. Not everything that goes wrong is your fault! Things just happen here. We're living on a hellmouth, for Pete's sake. It's whole reason for existing is to create chaos."
Guess there was no arguing with that point. And no arguing with Willow once she'd set her mind to something. I would have to stick my remorse in a little box deep inside myself for now. I could take it out later and play with it once she was gone.
"Come here," Willow said, holding her arms open wide once again.
When I moved in close, she pulled my head down to her chest, and the next thing I knew we were both lying on the couch. She was on her back, her head propped-up against the arm on the sofa. I was positioned between her legs, belly down with her breasts as my pillow for the second time that day. Mmmm, she smelled so good. Sweet, her natural scent was very sweet. Crisp and spicy, just a hint of my shower gel still lingering on her skin even after all this time. Sweat and the smell of me, I could smell our combined fluids that had been smeared on her. I was nuzzling her tits, burying my nose in the soft flesh there. Her nipples were erect, the thin cotton of my T-shirt accentuating them instead of hiding them. I wanted to capture one with my mouth or at the very least tweak it with my fingers, but resisted that temptation, unsure of whether or not Willow wanted me in that way any longer.
"You are a strange creature," Willow giggled. I was tickling her, running the tip of my nose lightly along the underside of each breast.
See, to Willow I was a creature, not a man. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt my feelings, not in the least. It was somehow very liberating. It was the truth after all, and Willow had a way of speaking the truth and making it very easy to accept. I'm a vampire, and yet she loved me as such.
Still I raised my head and arched a quizzical eyebrow in her direction.
"I suppose I'm behaving oddly, too," she said softly. "I-I've never... I mean you... I... oh Angel."
"What, Willow? Just say what you feel."
"Oh, sure," she drawled, "that's easy for you to say, Cryptic Guy. And that's just it, I knew what I was talking about. You are a very taciturn person. You say so little, and yet... you... I... you..." Willow looked like she was more than just a bit befuddled.
Okay, I'll admit it. I was lost as well. Blame it on the gender difference, say it has to do with the disparity in our ages, but I was thoroughly confused. I had no idea, whatsoever, what Willow was trying to say. It had been a very long two days, and I was tired, my mind not working to its full potential. Usually, if I listened carefully enough I could manage to decipher the coded babble that both Buffy and Willow spoke in. But this time the key to interpretation was beyond my grasp.
Much as I was enjoying my current physical position, nestled snugly within the warm wall created by Willow's inner thighs, I pushed myself up and sat back on my heels so that I could see her better.
"Look, Will, I know I'm not the most talkative individual on this planet, but I would think you'd be used to that by now. Oz isn't exactly a man of many words either."
"But it's different with Oz. For him, it's just a part of his nature. It just the way he is. Oz doesn't hide behind his lack of words."
Ouch. She knew how to hit the mark. And she didn't stop even after she'd already drawn blood. Yeah, yeah, pun there.
Willow tried to explain further.
"I don't think you were always so closemouthed. I think, no, I know you didn't really get this way until after the gypsies cursed you. You just shut it all out, didn't you? And now being reticent is just second nature to you. But it's still second nature. I mean, you sure didn't keep much to yourself when you were soulless again. I mean, you were still all stealthy and stuff, but when you weren't sneaking around you always had at least a few words to share with all of us. Okay, you'd spout off every chance you got. Pretty vile stuff, too, if I do say so myself. Of course, I don't suppose most demons have a lot of nice things to say to humans, as a rule. But hey, you know, Spike sure likes to hear himself talk, too. I mean, is it just a vampire thing, or do you two just happen to have that in common, or is it like because you made him?"
Willow actually paused then, much to my amazement. She wasn't just catching her breath (in fact I think she could have gone on like that for much, much longer, Heaven help me). No, unfortunately she was waiting for a reply of some kind.
"You're right," I confessed, surprising myself. Talking to Willow was easy. Okay, easier...
"I wasn't always this tight-lipped. In fact, in that respect I do have a lot in common with my demon. I was always shooting off my mouth, especially when I was drunk, which was most of the time during the last of my mortal life. I've got the bar room brawls under my belt and the scars to prove it."
"Really, where?" Willow gasped all wide-eyed with wonder.
I couldn't help but smile at her. I know it was a stupid, lopsided grin that slid across my lips. She was just so damn cute. Somehow she'd managed to get me to babble a bit. It seemed to be a talent that was peculiar to her. Or maybe it was a disease. A very contagious, communicable disease. One I'm thankful they never found a vaccine for.
I did however find myself speechless once more, but for a totally different reason. I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted hike that T-shirt up over her hips and slide into her.
I wagged my head, both to shake off my lusty thoughts and to show some sort of reaction to her sudden morbid curiosity.
"And
you say I'm a strange creature."
She was still all excited, like a little girl with a new toy.
"Well, I didn't notice any scars before. I mean I wasn't really looking for any, but I mean I did look at you, and... well... but..."
The blush that crept into her cheeks was delightful. She'd looked at me, and I think that based on her reaction, it was safe for me to assume she'd liked what she'd seen. I'm sometimes vain. So what? Aren't we all? And since I can no longer see myself in a mirror, I have to rely upon other people's reactions to my physical appearance to occasionally feed my vanity. Besides, it's much less narcissistic that way.
"They're all very faded now. I'm not even sure if you can see them anymore. They are really old, Will."
"So, where was one? Show me."
Now this entire round of communication was taking some very weird turns. But, what the hell, for the first time in a long time I was just going to go with it, as they say.
"Umm, let's see. There's one here." I pointed to a spot on my abdomen, along my right side, just below my rib cage. "It's just a thin silvery line now, if you look real close you might be able to see it still."
Willow startled me by sitting up quickly and crawling forward. She looked at the area I pointed to, turning me a bit to get some more light on the subject, so to speak.
"Ooooh, yeah. I can see it," she whispered in awe.
Then she stuck out one of her fingers and traced the ancient mark. Damn it tickled, and I squirmed as her finger slid down my belly.
"Wow, it's so long."
She had the decency to stop at the waistband of my pants when in fact the scar still ran down quite a few more inches, ending far below the top of my hip.
"Yeah, it was a pretty nasty cut," I said, stating the obvious.
"How'd you get it?" She looked up at me, with a very odd sparkle in her eyes. Her finger was still pressing upon me, no longer tickling per say, but still making me squirm.
"I made a...ahum...a pass at the wrong woman, an English nobleman's wife."
Willow arched her brows and sent a very skeptical look my way.
"Hey, I didn't know," I said in my own defense. "She was a tart and I was stinking drunk. Needless to say I was literally caught with my pants down around my ankles. The bloody prig pulled out a knife and tried to gut me."
Willow wagged her head in a proper show of distaste. Then she looked back down at what remained of my permanent reminder of that altercation and grinned like a Cheshire cat. She was behaving oddly, to say the least.
"Gee, looks like he almost succeeded," she sighed.
Her finger started to slide down my belly again and she slipped it under the waistband of my sweats.
"Came close," I groaned as I felt her other hand make quick work of untying the string that held up my pants. As if that wasn't bad enough in it self, her hand kept brushing against the top of my erection as she first worked the knot then started tugging gently on the waistband.
"Must have hurt a lot," she said; her voice was strangely both sympathetic and mocking. She was teasing me, the little wench. And at the same time working her strange magic on me once again. While I should have felt at least a dozen negative emotions, at that moment all I felt like doing was having some fun. I felt lustful and desired in return. I felt loved. What a wicked witch Willow was.
Ah, but she wasn't a bad witch. Dorothy and Toto's adversary would never have been able to enlist Willow's help. Willow was most assuredly a member of Glenda's camp. She was a good little witch. Although, I must confess that she could be nefarious at times, especially in bed!
With all that had happened once Xander arrived I should have been, I don't know, what? Ashamed of my actions? Full of regret? Fearful that Buffy would discover what had taken place?
Once everything was said and done I didn't feel any of those things. At least not in the way I expected to.
Soon I would leave again, leave for a much longer period this time around. I wouldn't return to Sunnydale until I was needed or invited back.
So, yes, I felt regret. I deeply regretted the fact that I now had a real friend that I would be leaving behind. Not that Buffy wasn't my friend. She was in fact my best friend, in a way that only the one we love so completely can be. But Willow was now my friend in a much different way. She completed parts of me that Buffy did not. She touched me in ways Buffy never could. It's so very hard for me to put into words just how painful that really was. How horribly twisted is my curse that I couldn't be intimate with the woman I adored simply because I loved her too much, and because she in turn loved me in a way that made me forget just what a monster I am. Fucking gypsies! No, fuck me for all the seriously stupid choices I've made in my life.
As for the shame, sorry, but for the first time in a very long time, there would be no shame. Willow was a wonderful lover and I would never dream of making what took place between us seem shameful or wrong. She gave herself to me in friendship, with love for me in her heart and without regard for her own wellbeing. I would never dishonor her gift by making it seem like less than the unbelievably satisfying encounter that it was. And I'll admit that I took some pride in knowing that I was able to pleasure her as well.
All though, I will confess that I was still remorseful with regard to the fact that Xander found out about us. I felt badly that Willow was forced to chose between the two of us. Xander had been her friend since they were little children. I was but a relatively recent addition to her life. Or was I? Dear lord, at that point I was honestly starting to believe that we had been together before. There was no other way to account for the dreams we shared. And it was not only Willow and I who were experiencing those dreams. I feared that those bizarre dreams were not really dreams at all, but memories masquerading as dreams. That's the only way to explain what happened between Xander and Willow and me.
Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself again in the recounting of these events. God, I'm actually babbling. You see, even after all the decades that have passed, Willow still has that effect on me. Even from the grave she still somehow manages to loosen up my tongue. Or perhaps, Aishling, a chailín mo chroí (my darling girl), you simply possess the same skills; wield the same wonderful magic.
Ah, but I have yet to talk about the fear, fear of further exposure and the reprisals that would surely follow it. You must well know that I didn't want Buffy to find out. She would have been devastated and I'd already broken her heart more than once during the time I'd known her. I was sometimes surprised she had a heart left after the way I continually damaged it. And yet, even more hurtful for me was the knowledge that Buffy would never accuse me of having been unfaithful to her, she would never even think to treat Willow as anything less than her most treasured friend. I feared she would somehow feel that she had failed us, when in fact, regardless of our reasons for doing so, it was Willow and I that had betrayed her. Even if by some remote chance Buffy did hold us accountable, as the initial pain caused by the discovery of our infidelity started to fade, Buffy would forgive us, just as she has always forgiven even the greatest of my trespasses against her. But that's what made Buffy who she was, her boundless capacity for compassion and her limitless ability to love.
But I also feared the future consequences of our actions, even if no one else ever learned about what had taken place. My greatest fear was that the link between us would have an adverse effect upon Willow, and perhaps now even Xander, and that in my absence no one would know what was going wrong. Therefore I knew that even if Xander remained true to his word, if he never told another soul about Willow and me, I would in fact reveal our secret to one other person. Before I left Sunnydale, I would pay a visit to The Watcher. I would swear Giles to secrecy and then I would tell him everything. I needed his help once again, and would gladly pay whatever price he asked to obtain his services. Willow had said Giles wanted to know about my time in Hell. Well, if that's what it took, I'd tell him, I'd tell him all about it.
Oh, but all my thoughts of shame and fear and regret were quickly set aside as I felt the soft, cottony fabric of my sweatpants slip off of my hips and slide down my thighs to end up bunched at my knees.
Willow was still on her knees, as well, and moved a bit closer to me. A very mischievous look lit up her face.
"What are you up to?" I queried warily.
With an exaggerated casual shrug of her shoulders and a false innocence in her tone of voice, Willow replied.
"Oh, nothing. I just thought I'd see where this trail leads, where it ends."
It was then that I realized Willow had never removed the finger she was using the trace my old war wound. And now she was resuming its painfully slow downward travel. Her finger stopped at the end of the path, resting just above my patch of dark pubic hair.
My dick seemed to have a mind of its own. It was twitching and bobbing about, as if to say, "Hey, Willow, look at me! Here I am! I'm all ready for you. Touch me, touch me, touch me!"
I groaned loudly when she leaned in and started to retrace the scar, using her tongue this time. I gently gathered up her hair and held it aside so that I could watch her. I wanted to see her tongue sliding along my flesh as well as feel its fiery wake. Oh, and much to my pleasure, this time she did not stop at the trail's end, but instead continued downward and laved my testicles with her hot, velvety tongue. I grunted in dismay when she pulled away.
"This isn't working," she sighed.
"What?" I said a bit louder and more forcefully than I intended to. I was just so disbelieving, so disappointed. What wasn't working, I asked myself. Shit, it was working for me!
"Stand up," Willow instructed me. "I'm too scrunched up this way."
I almost fell off the couch.
In my haste to comply with Willow's wishes, and to get her hot mouth back on my body as soon as possible, I had forgotten that my pants where still down around my knees. Jesus Christ, I was 243 years old and I was acting like, well like Xander, a youth with raging hormones and a raging hard-on to boot! It was ridiculous. I mean, even if we discount for a moment the emotional maturity that I should have possessed, given my advanced age, there was still the fact that I would forever have the physical maturity of a 27 year old man! It should not have been caught yet again with my pants down!
And adding insult to near injury, Willow laughed at me. I growled at her as I struggled to remove the offending pair of pants. I finally succeeded, then tossed them out of the way once and for all.
By the time I was done Willow was sitting properly and wearing nothing but a smile. She must have shed the T-shirt while I was occupied with my pants. She was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Do you have any idea how happy you make me?" I asked, the awe I felt very evident in my voice.
"Not too happy, I hope, you stupid demon," she replied jokingly.
I let the mask slip away and with glowing eyes and a fang-filled smile I stepped forward and stood between her open thighs.
"Oh, no, Willow," I snarled. "It's a totally different kind of happy."
"Good," she giggled as she moved to sit at the edge of the couch then reached out and took my throbbing member in her hot little hands. She leaned forward and used the soft curve of her cheek to caress my cock. "Cause I'd hate to have to stake you right after I make you come."
"Willow!"
"What?" Miss Innocent asked. "I mean, you know how hot I get watching you come. Who'd get me off if I had to dust you?"
"Is this really a conversation we need to be having?" I asked, actually laughing myself as I got a very sick mental picture of Willow trying to get herself off while her hands were still covered with my ashes. Perhaps using the very same stake she'd dusted me with? I told you that I'm a deviant.
"No," Willow croaked. Her voice was thick with lust and she looked up at me with eyes that had once again gone nearly black. Then she whispered, blowing soft, scalding puffs of her breath on my cold, hard cock as she spoke.
"I can think of much better things to do with my mouth."
Willow proceeded to show me again that she could in fact do other wonderful things with her mouth.
I slid my fingers through the crimson silk that was her hair, and pushed it back away from her face. Just as I had wanted to see her tongue on my belly a few minutes ago, I now wanted to have a clear view of her mouth engulfing my cock. I let out a groan, a deep guttural sound that echoed through cavernous room. I couldn't help it. The sight on my dick slipping between her rosy lips combined the feel of Willow's warm, wet mouth was almost enough to make me come before she ever even really started to suck me off. Oh, and she knew just how to twirl her hot little tongue, sliding along the underside of the ridge of the head then teasing the slit with the very tip of her tongue, lapping at the pre-cum that was dribbling out.
Willow used one of her hands to ring my shaft, stroking the lower portion where her mouth didn't reach. She slid her other hand between my thighs and urged me to open them. I complied by widening my stance, giving Willow the access she wanted so that she could fondle my sac.
No rough handling this time, despite the fact that she knew what I liked. It seemed as though this time she was going to do it her way. I was more than willing to let her. She used a gentle touch, caressing my balls, pulling carefully at the skin that surrounded them and I loved it.
Each tender stroke and tug on my sac was bringing me closer to the edge. Every languid sweep of her tongue and the soft suction she was applying to my cock moved me gradually toward my climax. It was a slow but steady climb to the pinnacle, and I just knew that the view from the top was going to be spectacular, well worth the effort required of me to hold back, to allow Willow to continue on at that lazy pace.
But damn it all if just as I resigned my self to holding back I didn't start to smell it rising. The sun, that is. Dawn was fast approaching and once more we had neglected to close the blackout curtains.
I tried to stay calm, to simply relax and let Willow finish me off at the rate she was going. I really had been enjoying it, until the minutes continued to pass quickly by and the demon started to panic. But I was close, so very close and was truly torn between my desire to come and my need to hide from the sun.
Willow must have sensed my growing fear because she glanced up at me, not releasing my cock from her mouth, but questioning me with her eyes.
"Hurry, Willow. Please," I begged. "The sun's coming up. I want to come before it does."
She quickened her pace, her head bobbing more rapidly and her hand pumping me more vigorously. She was using a firmer touch on my balls and was sucking my cock like a Hoover. But it wasn't enough. My fear of the sun was counteracting all of Willow's diligent efforts. I was so fucking close, so fucking scared and so fucking frustrated.
I was actually panting as I struggled to find release, to keep from bolting from the room and to speak, all at the same time.
"More, Will. Harder. Faster. Sun. Fuck. Please. Burn. Come now. Please."
Willow abruptly released me in every way. Her hands stopped touching me. My cock was no longer in her mouth. With an exasperated sigh, she sat back on the couch.
"I didn't want you to stop!" I cried out in disbelief. But even as I said those words, I was instinctively backing my way toward a corner of the room where I knew the sun couldn't reach me, a dark little recess where the demon would be safe from its deadly rays.
"Well, I'm sorry," Willow snapped back. "But it's your fault I stopped."
"Willow, it's the sun. I--"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Hurry. Let's get into your room. You'll be safe there. I'll close the curtains out here later."
She jumped up off the couch and headed toward me. The sun was starting to shine threw the large window at the top of the far wall and I could see it making its way across the room. I was going to have to move fast to avoid getting burned. Willow took a hold of my hand and started to drag me to my room.
"You know, if you had only kept your mouth shut for a minute or two more, I could have finished you off out here," she admonished me as she pulled me along. "But, *no*. Mr. Suddenly Loquacious has to start babbling away. I know you were getting scared. I could feel it, but we still had time, you know. You just couldn't let me do it, you had to say those words and then I was lost. I couldn't keep going. Suddenly all I could picture was me ending up with a mouth full of your ashes instead of your cum."
"Willow!"
She'd done it again. She'd shocked the hell out me. Babbled on like usual then wham! Blindside the centuries-old vampire. Both of us were laughing as we fell down upon the disheveled bed, landing side by side on our backs.
When we finally both settled down, Willow rolled over and propped her head up on her bent arm. She smiled down at me warmly, and I returned the kindness. With her free hand, she stroked the heavy ridges on my brow. I hadn't even thought about shifting back to my human face. I was comfortable as I was. Willow accepted me as I was. She bent down and kissed my mouth, as I was. This time, however, she was careful not to nick her tongue as she slid it about within my mouth and at first I wondered why. Then she spoke.
"I think this worked out better anyway. I didn't want you come fast. I want to you come very, very slowly. Then I want you to take your damn time and make come softly, slowly, too. I want our last time together to be painfully slow. Think you can handle that, demon?"
"Just
don't bite me again, witch, and I should do just fine."