E - Mail: BellaDonna12000@aol.com
Feedback: On list or privately.
Pairing: Willow/Spike (sort of)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Willow's thinking about Spike while in the shower. You do the math.
Spoilers: None, really.
Timeframe: mid-season 4.
Warnings: Explicit sexuality. This is a Plot? What Plot?, so if you don't like those type of fics, you can leave now :-)
Distribution: Near Her Always, Rapture, WillSpikeFic, spike-n-willow-fic, and Willow_Vampires mailing lists. Anyone else just get in touch and I'll give you permission to archive the fic at your site.
Beta Reader Thanks: Thanks to Kaz for the very quick beta. I hope that the additions I've made work.
Disclaimer: These characters and their universe are owned by Mutant Enemy, Inc. and Fox Television. I make no claim to anything but my own writing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Willow sighed as the warm water of the shower eased away the tension
in her body. She'd helped Buffy on patrol, and she'd actually fought and
staked a couple of vampires, leaving her a little sore from all the physical
activity. She rinsed out the shampoo from her hair, grabbed the bottle
of body wash from the plastic caddy in front of her, and dispersed the
liquid into the mesh puff in her hands. She ran the puff over her body,
cleansing herself thoroughly and tried to forget the thoughts of *him*
that kept worming their way from her subconscious. No, not Oz.
Spike.
Willow's nipples hardened at the thought of him, and she felt disgusted
with herself for it. So what if he was attractive? He had tried to kill
her (and just about everyone she cared about) more than once. Holding her
down, fangs at her neck, on top of her. On top of her. A rush of heat pulsed
through her at the memory. By the goddess, this was bad. It was downright
*wrong*. She needed to stop thinking about him; to stop from wondering
what it would be like to actually *touch* him. What was wrong with her,
anyway?
<You're horny is what's wrong. It's been a while since Oz left.>
an inner voice answered. <Go with it. A little fantasy isn't going to
hurt anyone.> So, Willow let herself slip into a rather un Willow - like
daydream. She imagined Spike caressing, nibbling and licking her nude body
everywhere; imagined the feel of him naked against her as she began to
get hot; imagined the smooth, cool, hard muscles of his chest and back
under her exploring fingertips, imagined him begging for more as her hand
slipped down between her legs; imagined the two fingers steadily thrusting
in and out of her were his as the heat built to an unbearable level; imagined
him calling out her name in pleasure as she started to shake slightly with
her release. <Spike!> Willow silently screamed.
Still breathing a little heavily, Willow opened her eyes and steadied
herself. The world hadn't stopped. No bolt of lightning had struck her
down for her traitorous, lusty thoughts. She turned off the water, stepped
out of the shower and wrapped a big towel around herself.
<You are bad, Rosenberg. Just bad>, she chastised, then giggled at
that idea. No, not bad. Maybe a little horny.
END
read the sequal 'More Showery Badness'