Disclaimer: I own none, not even the Hellfire Club, just borrowing them for my own twisted pleasure and public humiliation.
Feedback: If you want me to continue this it is kind of mandatory - if I don't get nagged I just don't write. Also not sure if this story really works, so tell me...please!!!
Notes: Okay this is the first story in a series I am doing called "The Games We Play". Season Four is implied and shock horror I have bought Oz back (just for a little while). I have also bought back the Desoto. This series isn't going to be all angsty, it will be a reflection of normal life and relationships, a few twisted and hopefully funny moments and a couple of things that will question my sanity. Maybe. If I don't get feedback then it stops on the roof of the Desoto. Oh, yeah, Inell this is the story I was telling you about - there you go it's just for you!! What?? Charms?? Ummm, think of this as a writers block kick start...it's coming ok.
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Spike wandered along the pavement smoking a cigarette reflecting on his unlife in Sunnyhell. It was crap. He had spent the earlier part of the evening sitting on a park bench watching all the little happy meals walk past, young, pretty and weak. Silly little chits who were stupid enough to walk alone, smiling their flirty little smiles at the demon having no idea how tempting they were to him. A few months ago he would have flirted back, teasing them, making them want him and then he'd give them a hicky they would never forget. Well actually they wouldn't have the opportunity to remember they'd be dead. That was then, this was now, all he could do was look, scowl and muse over his past conquests.
This was his life now, defanged and reluctantly involved with the slayer and her little support group. Shaking his head he took another drag on his cigarette as he glanced down the darkened street.
The wolf's van was parked out the front of Giles' apartment complex. His features formed a half snarl, the wolf had been back for a month now. After a week of tears, meaningful conversations and the encouragement of the group Oz and Willow were once again in a relationship. Ever since then he'd noticed that Willow had turned into a complete bitch - her temper was short and she was constantly fatigued. Spike thought she was a fool to take the wolf back, he had hurt her once and he would do it again - it was in his werewolf nature to want a mate of his own kind and it was only a matter of time before he'd leave for a bitch.
Spike leant against the van, finishing his cigarette and musing over his thoughts. That's when he heard it. Turning his head slightly he listened, amused at the soft grunts and groans coming from the interior. Smirking he felt the van move under his shoulder as the moans of the wolf became louder. Turning his gaze back to Giles he continued to listen - it had been too long. Sure Harmony hadn't been his dark goddess, but what the hell she was still a fuck. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the sounds, on the passion in the wolf's pleadings, and then he smiled at the soft moans of Willow. An image flashed through his mind he could see her wrapped around him, writhing beneath him as he fucked her, moaning for him. Biting into the side of his cheek he again thought that it had been far too long. Oz begging Willow to come interrupted his thoughts, the sound he heard next made him raise an eyebrow. Focusing on Willow's moans he started to smirk - she was faking. The wolf wasn't man enough for her. He rolled his head forward and suppressed his laugh as he heard the wolf practically howl as he came.
"That would explain the moods." Spike muttered to himself as he flicked the cigarette butt away and banged on the side of the van. "You two get a bloody room!"
He laughed as he heard them scrambling about and walked up the path to the watchers house. Giles had wanted him back at 7.30; it was now closer to 8pm.
"At last." Exclaimed Giles as Spike sauntered into the living room. "Well, now all we need is Willow."
"She's coming," Spike exaggerated his pronunciation of the word, just as a flustered and dishevelled Willow walked through the door. Spike grinned at her, causing her to turn a brighter shade of red, before leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Can I offer you a cigarette, pet?"
Smirking Spike turned away from Willow's seething glare and plopped down on the couch setting his feet on the coffee table. "So what is the deal this time?"
"Angel," Giles began only to be cut off by Spike groaning and rolling his head back on the couch. Ignoring the vampires dramatics Giles continued. "Angel believes he's acquired a laptop that belonged to an associate of the council. You two are going to LA tonight to pick it up."
"What?" Spike asked incredulously, he could hear Willow begin to protest.
"Well, if the assumptions are correct it could be a valuable asset to us. The reputation of the man in question is phenononamble - he was brilliant and highly committed to his duties. His files could be of great significance." Giles said elatedly. Spike looked at the watcher, only Giles could get this excited over the possibility of knowledge. "The problem is the computer has a complex security system - Angel can't even get into it. Therefore Willow is the best person to go, considering her technical knowledge."
"You mean hacking ability." Willow stated joining Spike on the couch and staring dejectedly at his boots on the coffee table.
"Why do I have to go?" asked Spike, sounding like a sullen child. He knew exactly why, the wolf had a gig, Xander was busy shagging as was the slayer. Also he had the ability to drive - something relatively few of the Slayerettes appeared to have mastered.
"It could be dangerous." Giles replied.
"So send the slayer," Spike stated.
"Spike, you could at least try to be a little more enthusiastic." Giles sighed; he had his reasons for not sending Buffy and didn't feel it necessary to share them with Spike or Willow.
"What? You want me to fake my enthusiasm?" Spike asked in wide-eyed innocence, while brushing his arm against Willow's, causing her to jump. "That just wouldn't be right. I mean faking is just a terrible act of deception."
Giles frowned at the vampire who was attempting to stifle his laughter. Shaking his head Giles took a deep breath.
"Go now," he ordered, his patience wearing thin. "Angel is expecting you there by ten."
***
Spike eased himself into the drivers' seat of the Desoto and waited for Willow, she was using Giles' bathroom.
He loved that car; it was part of him. When he had first realised he could still maim, damage and destroy non living creatures he had gone straight to Harmony and her little air headed cronies and savagely beaten the crap out of every single one of them before staking them. Of course Harmony had begged for forgiveness, he'd repented and let her service him...then he'd staked her. That was months ago. The Desoto and the sweet feeling of revenge were the only things that he took with him from that brutal and bloody night - and he had been grateful for the car ever since. Although when he had first seen it he was absolutely disgusted and cursed that he'd staked Harmony so quickly - he should have made her suffer for the damage to his beloved car. The paintwork had been scratched and some of the panels were dented, she had put fluffy cow design car seat covers on because the original leather seats had been slashed and a silly comic character hung from the rear vision mirror that had been covered with old photos of her. The tires were low as was the oil. The thing that had made him want to heave though was the cassettes that littered the interior and were jammed in the cassette player. It was the type of music that could be constituted as the foulest and cruellest form of torture that even the most sadistic demons would not use - sugary sweet pop. Damn it she should have been doused with Holy Water and left to slowly burn to dust for what she had done to his car.
Lighting a cigarette Spike shifted slightly and watched as Willow walked down the path a frown marring her face.
When he'd first bought the car back Giles had complained about the "ugly piece of Americana" but he accepted it. Somehow Spike became Willow's personal chauffer, for months he would pick her up from her dorm and take her wherever she needed to go before driving her back. It was something that Willow greatly appreciated. Gratitude she displayed one day when she "stole" the Desoto. When Spike discovered the car missing it drove him to a fit of rage that he took out on any and every demon he could find - the rage continued for a week. One evening he walked out to find it parked, the body had been repaired and resprayed and the once scratchy black paint covered windows had been replaced with black tinted ones. The interior had also been refurbished with cherry red leather that was soft and supple. But the thing that he adored and truly appreciated the most was a six stack CD with eight speakers wired through the car. Although nothing was ever said he knew it had to be Willow's work, she was the only one in the little group that he really associated with. The rest put up with him. Sure he and Giles had necessarily bonded through their living conditions however had Spike said he wanted to live in the Desoto he was sure that Giles would have been deliriously happy. It was Willow who spent hours chatting to him, although at first he had teased her and tried to discourage her - it didn't work. She'd chat, he'd listen, one day he started to talk back and the next thing he knew he was looking forward to seeing her. Damn. He'd look forward to seeing her smile, hearing her voice, her soft giggle. They became the terrible twosome, as thick as thieves, everyone else in the group was paired up so it was natural for them to fall in together but Spike would never really admit to how much Willow had grown on him. For months they lived in each other's pocket always together doing their parts in the fight against evil.
Willow opened the passenger door and sat down. Fastening her seatbelt she crossed her arms on her chest and stared straight ahead.
"Let's go then pet," Spike said turning over the motor.
Of course that was before the wolf's return. After that she had stopped laughing, stopped giggling, stopped smiling and eventually stopped talking. She wasn't happy and Spike hated it. When she had asked his honest opinion about getting back with Oz he had been blunt and said she would be a fool. He really had to work on his tact.
"So," Spike let the word roll around in the silence that had settled in the car for the last ten minutes. "How's the wolf?"
"Oz is fine," replied Willow, still staring out the window.
"You know," Spike lit up a cigarette. "If he isn't meeting your needs you really should say something to him."
"Wah...what?" she looked at him incredulously. "What are you talking about?"
"Well tonight's little performance in the van obviously left you unsatisfied," Spike took a long drag on the cigarette and shot the disgruntled redhead a quick look. "I mean look at you - you're crawling out of your skin with need, wound up so tight you're about to go crazy."
"I am not going to discuss this with you..." Willow shook her head in disgust. She had been horrified when she realised that he had been listening to them.
"God it's none of your business anyway. I can't believe you...you...you...well I can't believe you did it - you listened while we had...you know what I mean."
"What? I only caught your non-Oscar winning performance." Spike smirked before starting to imitate the sounds she had been making, his face twisting in a mock of passion. Willow stared at him before turning bright red as she realised what he was talking about.
"I am not having this conversation with you." Stated Willow turning away from the still moaning vampire.
"It's only going to get worse you know. You have to tell him - do you want to go through life unsatisfied?" he sobered up, part of him enjoyed making her squirm and blush, but part of him wanted to shake some sense into her, and all of those parts just wanted to see her smile again. "I mean you're a passionate young woman and you deserve better than that."
"I am not having this conversation with you." She repeated, keeping her gaze fixed on the passenger window, vowing to herself if he said sex she would just die.
"Sex is an important part of a relationship," Spike took another drag on his cigarette.
"I am not having this conversation with you." Willow groaned and sank down in the seat, bringing a hand up to cover her face - he'd said sex. Spike exhaled the smoke and continued.
"Can I ask you a question?" Without waiting for her reply he asked anyway. "Have you ever had an orgasm with him?"
"I am NOT having this conversation with you." Willow stated once more, her face turning an intense shade of red. Spike looked at her and opened his mouth to say something. "NO! No more, it isn't any of your business and I am not having this conversation with you. Not now not ever."
To reinforce that fact she leant forward and turned up the stereo that made further conversation impossible. Spike continued to smoke his cigarette.
***
Spike looked up at the familiar door of the agency. He didn't want to go in there and face his sire, but he didn't have a choice. As they had walked from the car, parked some five blocks away, he had tried to talk Willow into blowing off their responsibilities and hit the LA nightclubs. She had answered him by glaring her disapproval. Stubbing out his cigarette he followed Willow's lithe figure through the door.
"Willow!" Angel exclaimed as he saw her. He moved forward to envelop the redhead in a hug, scowling at Spike over her head.
"Angel," she pulled back from his arms to smile at the dark haired vampire. "You're looking well. Actually, er, you look like you usually do...but I haven't seen you for so long, you don't look any different but it's so good to see you...you know not in a pile of ashes...so I guess saying you look well is the right thing to say even though you are a vampire and literally dead..."
"It's nice to see you again Willow," said Angel breaking through her gibberish. Spike still hadn't moved from the doorway, his face plastered with a mixture of boredom and hatred.
"So, you have a laptop that is presenting problems?" asked Willow. Angel nodded and led her to a desk. "Well we are here to pick it up."
"Didn't Giles tell you?"
"Tell us what, Peaches?" Spike finally spoke moving to stand a few feet from the desk they were at.
"I'm hoping that there may be some information on a Grestal, a demon we are currently involved with. I need anything you can find on it. That's how we got the computer in the first place - there were all sorts of whispers about it." Angel said as Willow sat down in front of the small computer. "If you could find any information and leave a hard copy of whatever you come across I'd be grateful."
"Well that shouldn't be too hard. I'll do a file search regarding the demons name and just work on opening those files. The rest can wait until we get back to Sunnydale...unless you need anything else?" asked Willow.
"No, no, just those files. Look I have to go, make yourself at home," he said to Willow, immediately dismissing Spike. "If the phone rings the machine can get it. I'm not sure when I'll be back - if you finish and want to head off just pull the door shut behind you."
"Oh, okay," Willow had been hoping to catch up with him a bit more, but it was obvious that he was busy. "Well, I'll do what I can."
"Thanks Willow," said Angel with a half smile as he stood up. Walking away from the desk he frowned at Spike before dropping his voice so that Willow couldn't hear him. "Stay with her, anything happens and I'll let the crack of dawn kiss your ass goodbye."
"Yeah, love you too peaches." Spike replied a cold sarcasm creeping into his voice as he watched his sire walk out the door. He looked around the dingy little office and let out a sigh of boredom. Willow was already busy with the laptop, her fingers clicking across the keys a look of concentration on her face. "So how long is this going to take?"
"Hopefully not long - especially if you don't interrupt by asking me questions every five minutes," said Willow not taking her eyes from the small screen. Spike mimicked her silently, his face twisting in imitation before he sat down at the desk usually occupied by Cordy. Being bored he did the only thing possible - he started to rummage through her drawers. Willow glanced up. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?"
Willow closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep calming breath. "Aren't you hungry or something? I'm sure Angel won't mind if you help yourself."
"Fine," Spike pushed himself away from Cordy's desk and headed into the apartment. He didn't care to go heat some blood and feed, he'd rather snoop around Angel's abode - see if he could find anything interesting. He did. Some fifteen minutes later he re-emerged with a mug of warm blood, a wicked grin and a plan. He sat down in a chair opposite Willow. "Finished yet?"
Willow had her elbows resting on the desk, her face buried in her hands, thumbs rubbing at her temple.
"I have the few files that Angel wanted," she murmured. "Each file seems to have a different password, it's going to take ages."
"How long is 'ages'?" Spike asked carefully placing his full mug of blood on the desk.
"At least a few days," Willow removed her head from her hands and began to close down the computer. Spike watched in silence until it was safely packed away and Willow had resumed her seat.
"We should go then," he suggested. Willow nodded.
"No point hanging around, I'll write Angel a note." Willow said. Spike watched her carefully, smirking at the childish happy face she stuck on the bottom of the note. Standing up he looked from Willow to the mug of blood and back to Willow. Slowly he moved his hand to the mug and struck it, sending it flying into Willow's lap and spilling the contents all down her front. She jumped up out of the chair.
"SPIKE!" she screamed at him, pulling her bloodied top away from her body. "Great, just fantastic. You did that on purpose!"
"Me? Waste good pigs blood? Not likely. It was an accident." Spike feigned innocence as he took hold of her hand and led her into Angel's apartment. "Come on you can borrow something...I think leather would suit you."
Willow was about to protest when she felt the blood leaking through to her underwear, making her squirm. < Oh, this is so revolting! I am going to kill him. > She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she saw a pair of leather pants and a black silk shirt laid out on the bed.
"You planned this!" she accused.
"Come on, pet. I am not wasting a night in LA. Either get changed or I'll do it for you." Spike said, not denying his plan.
"I am not wearing that," she said through clenched teeth. Spike turned to face her.
"Well you can go naked if you want. Those," he stated, pointing to the pants and shirt. "Are the only thing the great poof has that would go close to fitting you."
"These aren't Angel's, they're too small," curiosity had gotten the better of Willow as she hesitatingly picked up the pants. It was either curiosity or the revolting sensation of have warm blood saturating her knickers.
"They're mine. Angel must have packed them by mistake," Spike spoke softly. Willow looked at him, she had never seen him wear anything but black jeans, and she raised an eyebrow in question. Spike fingered the soft leather. "Angelus liked his toys in leather. Hurry up and change."
Willow looked at the blonde vampire thoughtfully. He rarely spoke of the past, especially of Angel, or of Angelus. Looking back at the pants she sighed, the blood was getting to her, the fact that she had only been able to open a few files was also annoying her. Everything about her life was frustrating at the moment. Maybe Spike was right, why waste a night in LA? Picking up the pants and shirt she headed off to the bathroom.
Spike watched as she walked away and grinned. He lost the grin some 10 minutes later as he could hear Willow's soft muffled curses coming from the bathroom.
"What are you doing in there pet?" Spike asked from the other side of the door as he tried to work out what exactly she was saying.
"You are too skinny!" she hissed at him through the door. "They don't fit."
"Come out and let me see," Spike said leaning back against the wall.
"No, I can't get them done up."
"Willow just get out here now," Spike demanded. After a moments hesitation the bathroom door opened and Willow shuffled out. The leather pants were slightly too long for her and bunched around her ankles. The silk shirt hung down loose, nearly to her knees - there was no mistaking that it was Angel's shirt.
"They don't fit," she said sadly. Her hand was buried under the shirt and Spike guessed she was holding the waistband together.
"Well let me see," he started to pull the shirt up causing Willow to squeak and try to slap his hands away.
"Get your stupid hands off me!" she screeched at him backing away and slamming into the doorframe. Her hands reached for the back of her head. "Ouch."
Before she realised what was happening Spike had grabbed the shirt and tugged lightly, the buttons popped open and she felt his arms wrap around her.
"Okay, shirts fixed," he stated tying a double knot in the ends just below her breasts. His hands went to the button fly of the pants and delved into the leather, his eyebrows shot up and he smirked as he realised she wasn't wearing any underwear. Trying not to think about Willow sans underwear he pulled the leather together and twisted the buttons through the eyelets. Once the pants were done up he took a step back and looked at her thoughtfully. "Squat."
"What?" she asked, still holding the back of her head while looking down at herself. Spike had undone every single button on the shirt and then wrapped it around her ribs twice before tying it so that her midriff was bare. She had no idea what he meant by the command squat.
"Squat down, the leather will stretch a little," he looked at her confused eyes. "You'll feel more comfortable."
"Oh," she said squatting down and wriggling a few times. It did feel more comfortable.
"That's enough love, let's go," he grabbed her hand, led her to the office to pick up the laptop and dragged her out into the night.
***
Spike watched Willow's reflection in the mirrors that lined the walls of the club. It was great. Her expression kept changing from disgust to awe to intrigue. They were in the Hellfire Club, a well-known bondage club - especially to the vampire and demon population of LA. He didn't really know why he wanted to come here, especially with Willow - probably just for the shock factor and he was certainly getting that. Once they'd locked the laptop in the boot of the Desoto they had walked half a block to the back entrance of the club. Spike had merely vamped out and their admittance was granted free of the cover charge paid by the human patrons. Now, as Spike moved easily amongst the patrons, Willow was clinging to his arm. One hand firmly clutched at his while the other was twisted in the sleeve of his duster, her whole body was pressed into his arm. Spike checked out her reflection again and smirked - should anything happen she was going to rip his arm off.
Happily Spike continued their tour of the lower level of the club. Various acts were scattered about for the patrons' titillation and entertainment. Most of the acts consisted of various dominatrix, both female and male, taunting slaves and using them for blatant sexual satisfaction in front of the crowds. Some of the more bizarre acts included a guy being wrapped in plastic, a small opening left for him to breathe, his genitals were exposed and he was suspended from the ceiling - his mistress was moving him about by light chains attached to nipple rings. There were women chained in cages, men naked and collared like dogs, dominatrix wearing leather cat suits and masks - anything and everything of the bizarre world of torturous sex could be found in the various acts scattered about the floor of the club. Whips, candles and chains were a major theme in all the acts.
After an hour of wandering amongst the noise and the crowds Spike decided to move upstairs. Willow still clung to his arm, although her earlier look of sheer horror had long ago been replaced by fascination. Again a small growl and show of his game face gained them access to the stairs and he led her to the upper level. It was quieter and softly lit with candles. A small raised stage was set up in the middle of the room, it held an A frame with a man chained to it - he was being whipped by a busty blonde - the rest of the room consisted of various sofas, love seats and chairs as well as two pool tables and a bar. Spike sat them down on a couch and the barman bought them complementary shots of tequila. Sipping his drink Spike scanned the room, there were only a few couples mostly involved in heavy petting while watching the performance on the stage. A few of the clubs girls hung around in the shadows, making him a silent offer with their eyes. He shifted on the couch as he took in the merchandise the club had to offer.
"So," squeaked Willow, finally releasing his hand. "Do you come here often?"
"Nah, just a bit of entertainment." Spike finished his drink and started to search his pockets for cigarettes. "Fancy it pet?"
"Oh, absolutely. You know, I've always wanted to be tied up and beaten," she said sarcastically. "I hear it's a great way to relieve stress."
Spike lit up his cigarette taking a long drag as he watched her face. It was flushed, her eyes were wide with wonder and her lips were moist from the drink she was sipping.
"Would you?" asked a male voice from beside them. Willow looked up in shock at a reasonably good-looking guy dressed in leather. "We're here for your pleasure."
Spike watched as her mouth moved but no words came out. The guy was obviously one of the performers - Spike knew the routine, they approached members of the audience and got them to play the games, be tied up and tortured to a pleasurable orgasm. It was what the Hellfire was known for.
"Well, pet? Unless of course you are too scared," Spike grinned at Willow, who was still doing an imitation of a goldfish. He turned his attention to the performer. "I don't think the little girl is interested mate."
"Hold on, I can make up my own mind thank you," said Willow, she wasn't about to have Spike tell her what she should do. "I'd love to...what do I have to do?"
"Nothing at all, we will see that your needs are met," the young man held out his hand, a seductive smile spreading across his lips. "My name's Channon."
"Hi, I'm Willow," she took his hand as he pulled her up off the couch. Smiling he led her toward the stage, explaining things as they went. She was told that foremost was her pleasure, that the frame and everything else were just props and that anytime she wanted to stop, whenever she felt uncomfortable with what was going on she just had to say the safety word that they agreed on.
Spike watched as Willow moved away from him, idly wondering if Angel ever found out about this if he would follow through with his threat. He picked up Willow's abandoned drink and sipped it, rolling the taste around his mouth. She had no idea what she had just agreed to, he knew she wouldn't be able to handle anything major. Catching Channon's attention he motioned for him to come to him.
"Yes?" he asked standing in front of Spike. Willow watched from the side of the stage.
"Don't mark her. No cuts, no bruising, no burns - just make her cum," Spike instructed. Channon shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
"Well that's not we're about..."
"Mark her and you die," Spike growled. Channon nodded in silent understanding before going back to Willow.
Spike watched as Willow was led up to the frame. Soft black silk scarves replaced the chains and Channon tied another scarf around her eyes as a blindfold. Leaning back against the couch Spike smiled as the silk shirt she wore was abandoned, she tried to cover her breasts with her hands only to have Channon step in close and whisper to her. Her arms were raised, caught by the scarves and her ankles were similarly tied leaving her spread eagle. Channon slowly began to massage her shoulders, calming away her fears, his hands soothingly stroking her back. Once she was relaxed he moved around to the front of her bound form and grabbed an ice cube to trace patterns on her naked breasts, teasing the nipples until they were rock hard before moving the ice down to her stomach and naval. He continued his slow torture until the ice had melted completely.
Willow's head was hanging low, her whole attention focused on what this man was doing to her. His voice was soothing and seductive, telling her how hot she was making him, how everyone in the room wanted her, how her boyfriend was getting turned on seeing her tied up. Willow couldn't even think rationally enough to set him straight about Spike. She didn't really care. Another ice cube replaced the other one, still teasing her aching nipples and breasts. She could feel a hand stroke her thigh, firmly working its way up until it was rubbing against the fork of her leather pants. Willow groaned low in her throat. The constant murmur of Channon's voice, his hot breath against her neck and ear, and the delightful pressure of his hand between her legs took her where Oz hadn't. With a small moan she came, twisting her hands against her bonds and pushing hard against Channon. He continued to talk to her, letting her gather her wits.
"Do you want more Willow?" he asked her softly.
Suddenly Willow froze. Panic hit her, she had just let an absolute stranger masturbate her to an orgasm, in front of other strangers...worse still in front of Spike.
"No, NO!" she started to pull hard against the scarves, trying to free herself. She suddenly felt humiliated. Any thoughts of a safety word completely flew out of her head as blind panic hit her. "Let me go, please!"
"Okay, Willow just calm down for me. Can you do that?" Channon wasn't too concerned, he'd seen people do this before. It was actually a pretty common reaction, especially from first timers. He wasn't concerned until he saw Spike striding toward him. "Fuck."
"Let me go!" screamed Willow, hysteria creeping into her voice.
"Sshh, pet. Stop struggling," Spike said as he started to release her wrists. He had her shirt back on and tied just as Channon released her ankles. Willow yanked the blindfold off and glared at Spike before turning away and darting down the stairs.
Silently Spike swore to himself and followed her fleeing figure. It was rather hard with the throbbing erection he had from watching her. The performance had been nothing, couldn't even be called bondage but it got her off and that was what she needed. Unfortunately he hadn't realised the effect it would have on him.
"Too long, too long," he chanted to himself as he worked his way through the crowds and willed his body to stop acting like some over sexed schoolboy.
He found her sitting on the side of the bonnet of the Desoto, arms crossed and a pout on her lips. She looked adorable. There were no tears, which he took as a good sign - he had expected to find her in a sobbing heap. Smiling he sauntered over to her. She glanced up and frowned.
"I don't believe I was so stupid to let you trick me into doing that," her voice was tinged with anger. "I hate you."
"Come on, Willow. Admit it, you loved every moment of it." Spike smirked at her, standing between her legs and placing a hand either side of her arse on the cars bonnet. "I can smell it from here."
"You're disgusting you know that? Just because you're a vampire who gets off on that sort of thing doesn't mean that everyone else does!" Willow said in defence. His legs were brushing against her inner thighs, making her flesh tremor. Breaking eye contact she glanced down at her hands only to be alarmed at how close they were to Spike's groin. < If I flexed my fingers they'd be touching his...oh, oh, bad thought. > She moved her hands to rest behind her as she inched away from Spike and his groin. Pulling her legs up she stood up on the bonnet of his car, defiantly looking down at him. "But you are the only one who isn't having sex so I guess you'd get turned on by anything - probably came in your pants."
Smiling at her own wit, Willow turned and started to walk across the bonnet of the car. She was shocked when she felt his hands grab her waist, turning her and forcing her face down on the roof of the car. Spike grabbed her hands, bringing them down and pressing them against the windscreen he bent over her, resting his hips against her, his feet firmly planted between hers on the bonnet.
"I wasn't the one who came in my pants, pet. I believe that was you." He practically purred in her ear. Smiling he could hear her gasping for breath. "All that sweetness spread over leather - I'd love to taste that."
Keeping hold of her hands he dropped to his knees, her leather clad ass in front of his face. He ran his nose and chin across one cheek and then the other before lightly biting each buttock. Closing his eyes he lost himself in the aroma of Willow and leather - he had never smelt anything so sweet in his life. Rubbing his cheek against her bottom, slowly working his way down until his face was buried between her thighs. He let his teeth drag along the leather, his tongue tracing a path along the seam; she quivered and moaned lightly. Releasing her hands he gripped her thighs and pulled her hips back from the windscreen so he could move further between her legs. Any rational thought he may have been clinging to since they left the club vanished. He could smell her arousal, her juices from her earlier orgasm had permeated the leather, and he could taste her.
His fingers massaged her leather bound thighs as he tried to pull her closer. His teeth were savagely dragging across the leather, opening his mouth wide he took as much as he could and sucked against it, trying to drown in her taste. Pushing his mouth against her in a steady rhythm one of his hands moved to stroke her leather covered ass.
"Spike," Willow breathed, her mind shattering at the sensations he was creating. Her chest and head were still resting on the roof of the car, her hard nipples ached against the cool metal, and she bought her hands up to lay flat either side of her head. She moved her hips against his mouth wanting more.
Spike could taste her and it was driving him to distraction. The leather was slick with his saliva and her juices. Pulling her further back from the windscreen he crawled from between her legs, mouthing his way up the leather pants until he touched hot flesh. Finding her navel his tongue darted out and circled it before licking it, delighting in the taste of her salty flesh. He stood up, forcing her to stand also, swaying unsteadily on her feet. One of his arms encircled her waist while the other hand found it's way under the shirt, his fingers brushing over her hard nipples and swollen breasts. As a moan left her lips he sat back on the roof and claimed her lips.
< He tastes like leather. > It was Willow's last thought as she surrendered to him, his mouth, his lips, and his tongue. Grasping the back of his neck she let her body fall onto his, lifting one leg to kneel on the roof she pushed her hips against his. Feeling his throbbing erection she moaned into his mouth and her other hand found the small of his back, pulling him to her.
Spike struggled with the buttons on her pants finally getting them open. As his fingers delved into the combined heat of Willow and leather he moaned at her wetness. Breaking the kiss he pushed her away so he could grab the waist of her pants and pulled them down around her ankles. Catching her eyes he saw a look of shock and lust. He spun her around and forced her back onto the roof of the car and stepped between her leather-shackled feet. Claiming her mouth again he freed his cock and rubbed it against her slick slit. He moaned as he felt her arms encircle his waist while her legs wrapped around his thighs. Breaking the kiss Willow looked at Spike, her eyes full of lust.
"Spike," she demanded rubbing against him. "Fuck me."
Spike grinned; he knew an invitation when he heard one. The word fuck hadn't even left her lips when he thrust deep into her, causing her to shriek. He moaned and shuddered at the feel of her tight hot passage. Clenching his jaw he slowly pulled back out before thrusting deep again. One of his arms circled her waist while the other supported part of his weight on the roof of the car. Moaning, he thrust deep and rhythmically. He could feel her moving beneath him, her breath coming in pants, her body slick with perspiration. His mouth wandered from her neck to her face to her mouth as he continued to thrust. He lost himself in the tight feel of her, her intoxicating smell and the sweet sounds that were coming from her mouth. Once again he thought it had been too long as he felt his balls tighten, his body screaming for release. Moving his hand down between them he found her clit and twisted it - her reaction was immediate with her pelvis slamming into his, her head rolled back on the roof of the car and she screamed his name. The sound of his name on her lips drove him into his climax. Burying his head in the crook of her neck he rocked gently against her shuddering body, prolonging their pleasure. Still buried deep within her, he listened to her laboured breath and enjoyed the feeling of her arms and legs wrapped around him.
< Bloody hell, > rational thought returned to Spike, it was like
hitting a brick wall. < I just fucked the witch - I'm going to be staked!
> He moaned into her neck and felt her muscles twitch around him. <
But it was worth it. >