Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season Three/Season Four.
Distribution: Only if you ask…
Pairing: Willow/Spike.
Feedback: Yes. Very yes…Please?
Disclaimer: Of course I own them. They live in my closet and act out episodes whenever I like (note the sarcasm).
Warnings: Smut, a little physical torture, hints at dominant/submissive. Don’t read this if you don’t like gross/smutty/dirty things. You’ve been warned!
Summary: "When once the fierce heat of her quenchless, lustrous eyes have burned into the victim's heart, he will know no other smile but hers." –Clarence S. Darrow.
Dedication: This one’s for Sylver. The grown-up who still has time for a little kid like me.
A/N: Sorry for the repost! It must have been coz i changed it to old text.
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Prologue (Willow’s POV)
"Mom! Dad! I’m home!" I called out, pausing to hear any signs of life. I let out a long breath when I realised I was alone. I had never attempted a spell this powerful before. Sure, I’d floated my share of pencils, but this was different. It required summoning all the elements, not just two. If Giles knew I was doing this, he would flip. And not just in the metaphorical sense. But ever since I’d seen the spell in ‘Ritual: A Beginners Guide’ and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. What if I could make it rain at will? What if I could move the ocean with my mind? Okay, so this was a little bit smaller, but it was a start to something greater.
I hadn’t told anyone, not even Oz. I know they would just look at me in that patronising way, counting off on their fingers why this was a bad idea. ‘You’re too young, Willow,’ ‘you’re not a proper witch, Willow,’ ‘you’re not good enough, Willow…’ Alright, they never said that exactly, but they might as well have!
I emptied my backpack on the floor, watching the ingredients tumble onto the carpet. I then flipped open the book to the page number I had memorised and began checking off each ingredient in my mind.
‘Grimwater…check…candles…check…raven feathers…check…ostrich tongue…ew, check…Knife of Aspero…checkety check!’
I wasn’t that fluent in Latin yet. I could recognise some basic sentences like, ‘The menu looks interesting. I’ll try the chicken,’ and ‘I will trade you six goats for your daughter.’ But they weren’t very useful, especially in conjuring up mystical forces. Besides, I don’t even like chicken.
"Alrighty," I chirped to myself, tugging the small metal pot I use as a doorstop in front of me. I poured the grimwater into it, grimacing as the scent hit my nostrils, "Mmmm, rotting plant flavour," I muttered, lighting each of the three tiny candles and placing them in a triangle around me.
"Adsurgo!" I said loudly, hoping the pronunciation was correct. I added the raven feathers as I said this, and the mixture smoked slightly. "Clueo!" I then added the ostrich tongue. The muscular, textured and very slimy bird appendage slithered through my fingers and I resisted retching into the potion. It started bubbling and spitting, but I carried on. "Intus," I said softly, reaching for the knife. Clenching my eyes shut I let the blade of the dagger tear into the flesh of my palm. I cried out and then whimpered, but I did not try tending to my wound. I held it over the hissing pot, allowing the blood to pour liberally into the concoction. "A-ardour!" I sobbed, screaming a little when the pot overflowed onto the carpet.
Suddenly, it stopped; the pain in my hand, the bubbling pot and my own noises of pain. I looked down at the potion cautiously, but all I saw was an empty pot. My hand had stopped bleeding and the cut was gone. Hell, there wasn’t even a scar. Aside from the burnt out candles and book that lay open beside me, there was no evidence that a very serious spell had taken place only a few seconds ago.
I shrugged. Maybe it had worked? I looked at my fish tank, concentrating on just getting the water to ripple. My one fish stared back at me, and even it looked less stupid than I felt. I sighed in frustration, gathering up my candles and placing them on my shelf. I strode over to the windows, opening them. The warm breeze soothed me and I slipped into bed, suddenly drained of energy.
The wind continued to blow, a particularly strong gust hitting the book. The pages flipped rapidly until suddenly coming to a stop, right on the spell that had been circled in red earlier that day. ‘How to control the elements: Water’. Then, another gust blew it back to the spell that had just been completed; ‘Summoning the figurative elements: Fire’.
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Chapter 1
I knew that was when it started. I just knew, but did nothing. At first it was almost unnoticeable. I would be laying in bed, twiddling my thumbs, when a sudden rush of heat would literally hit me, and the next thing I knew, my hand would be in my panties and I’d be using my fingers to bring myself to orgasm. By the end I’d be confused and ashamed, but also satisfied. So satisfied it scared me a little. It progressed soon after that. I’d be sitting in class and a rush of heat would travel straight to my groin.
Usually, I rocked on the hard edge of the chair until it went away, or until I screamed, but by that time I would be sent to the nurse with a severe case of the ‘flu.’ The only words I could use to describe it were ‘constantly’ and ‘horny.’ I would walk down the school hall and see Percy, or Larry, (even fucking Jonathan), and I’d want to ride them till I was a spasming wreck. One time I actually grabbed Jonathan by his lapels and pushed him into a nearby closet. I rubbed my mound on his stiffening cock, but he let out a high-pitched moan and came in his trousers before I could really get into it.
The first time Oz and I had sex, I just was not in the mood. It was good, though, really good, but average in comparison to my daily orgasmic heat sessions with my now very talented fingers. I remember one time, when we had just begun at the university; I was sitting on his lap in the cafeteria. I was hit by another heat rush and began rocking. My head was thrown back and I was riding him, his erection poking me through my soaked panties. Nobody noticed though, even when he unzipped his fly and we fucked right in the middle of the crowded eating place. I think he told Devon, because he would throw us longing looks whenever we would sit together at the Bronze.
Then at the worst possible time, when my cravings were becoming more intense, he cheated on me with that Veruca *whore*. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’d cheated on Oz before, and not just with Xander (and let me just say for the record, it’s a pity Xander hates vampires so much because he’s a fucking *demon* in the sack!). I mean, I know it’s wrong, but Oz just wasn’t there all the time. Sure, he was there when I had time to suck him off. Sure, he was there when I wanted it desperately from behind. But sometimes I needed it two or three times…at once. I begged him for a threesome, but he was just so stubborn. It didn’t bother me that he had cheated on me, I do miss him though. His cock was noticeably bent, which was always fun. And the things that guy could do with a vibrator…mmm. I think all the sex was getting to him though. I don’t blame him, I was an eight-a-night girl, but only if I’d spent the whole day getting myself off. If I hadn’t, then…well, he’d probably be dead. I’m not bragging, honest! Percy fell into unconsciousness after the first two nights. I had to take him to hospital. Don’t worry, I convinced two male orderlies to eat me out while I waited for his test results. So, all was well and good.
But it was Spike, that fucking bastard, who made it worse. Okay, picture this. You’ve been eating Cadbury your whole life. You think, ‘this is as good as it gets,’ so you’re satisfied with that. Are you with me? Then, one day, a tiny crumble of Hershey’s cookies and cream drops into your mouth. Suddenly, you’re ravenous for more. Fuck Cadbury and Nestle, this was the real stuff. And then you find out you can’t get any more. So what now? You’re spoiled for other chocolates, aren’t you? As soon as that vamp-shaped cookie chocolate strolls into your room, pounces on you, his pelvic bone thrusting into your aching clitoris, his hand brushing your breast…It’s over. Never mind that at the time he was threatening to kill me. To be honest I was even a little disappointed when his stupid chip kicked in.’
But by that time, I realised it was a spell and there was no way that aggressive attack could be considered sexual. At first I thought I just had a deprived sex-life, but then I realised that my whole life seemed to be me trying to get off. I knew that wasn’t right, I had to face facts. I was a slut, a magically induced slut, but a slut nonetheless. So I decided to quit. I quit having sex. I did meditation; I looked up spells that would soothe the need inside of me. I never found the counter spell, though. It’s probably something really ironic.
Sometimes the tension was so great; I thought I might snap, especially when Spike came to live with Giles. I would see him all the time, that chocolaty goodness so close I could taste it. Sometimes I dreamt that he was tied up in the tub and I’d hurt him. I’d bite him and scratch him and cut him, and he’d be utterly helpless. So helpless, but so achingly masculine, I’d have to have him. So I’d force myself on him. He’d thrash around, grunting and moaning and making all those lovely noises that make me wet. Rape is such an ugly word, don’t you think? Oh no, that’s not what I’m doing, I just thought I’d bring it up.
I was in the middle of meditation one night, when suddenly it happened. The familiar hot throb, but this time followed by come pouring down my leg. I moaned, suddenly so hot my clothes were stifling me. My fingers worked the magic between my thighs and I came again, only this time it didn’t stop. The heat was unbearable, choking me. I ran into the bathroom, throwing off my clothes and turned on the cold shower. I could almost hear my skin hiss as the cool water cascaded down my back. I grabbed my shower brush, and positioned myself over the smooth handle. I plunged it in and pinched my clitoris, working the hard phallus-substitute in and out. With one last thrust I came again, shuddering and moaning. I stayed under the spray until the coldness affected me and I hopped out.
The same thing happened the following night, but I stayed in my bed. It was too much, and I screamed, eventually passing out. When I woke up, there were second degree burns down my back and across my stomach. I did a healing spell but I still felt scared. I knew I should have gone to Giles about this a long time ago, but really, how would he know more than I would? Besides, I’d be…embarrassed. Yeah, yeah, I know…it’s a bit strange for a chronic, incurable nymphomaniac to feel embarrassed *now*, after everything. But Giles is like a father figure to me, even though maybe once or twice I did have sex with him in his sleep. Well, not sleep exactly; it was sort of a Dream spell. I made him believe the whole thing was a dream. It was fun, really, except he kept calling me Prudence.
That night I tried another spell. It was to squash urges and feelings, and it worked. I woke up feeling as un-horny as one could be. Even Anya noticed my unusual amount of energy as I strode into Giles’ apartment…
"You look chipper today, Wills," Buffy observed.
Anya nodded, "Chipper, bordering on irritating."
"Thanks, Anya," I said sweetly.
"No problem!"
"So," I said, trying to deter everyone from my wellbeing, "any bad guys needing some Willow love?"
"Nah. We thought we’d go hang out at the Bronze tonight," Xander said, snuggling closer to Anya.
"Cool!" I replied. Tonight, I would wear plain cotton underwear and the baggiest clothes I could find.
"We’ll meet at around…seven?"
"Okay," I said.
We met at exactly seven. I wore a pair of black pants that were completely shapeless with only a belt keeping them up. For my top I wore a large ‘Stephen King Rocks’ t-shirt and a woolly sweater. I danced, and I did it as badly as possible. Me and Xander were creating a ruckus with our terrible clothes and even worse dancing. As soon as he shot his goofiest grin at me I felt it. It was worse than before, like a stabbing right in my groin. And the heat was ludicrously intense. I could feel equal amounts of come and sweat leaking from my body. I yelled some excuse about fresh air and burst outside.
"Oh…god…" I panted, clutching at the railings and begging it to go away. The alleyway was empty so I had no qualms in ripping off my jumper.
‘Air!’ my skin screamed, and I complied by pulling off the rest of my clothes, save for my shirt and underwear. I couldn’t stand; the thick air was pushing me to the floor. Sweat dripped from every pore and I whimpered. ‘This is it,’ I thought numbly.
"Luv?" Oh god, has there ever been a sweeter sound?
"Sp-spike!" I hissed, raising my head, "h-help me!"
He looked shocked, but also amused, "Why? What’s wrong?"
I started coughing dryly, my whole body flushing. I tore off my shirt and moaned, needing release. "Just…f-fucking…help me!"
He scooped me up in his arms, but I twisted away from the heat that wasn’t there. He kept me still, though, his jaw set. "I never refuse a lady who talks dirty…what’s wrong?"
I didn’t answer. My whole body spasmed and I arched, coming right there. I was too hot to care, but Spike stopped and stared at me, "Don’t…say ‘dirty’…wh-when I’m like this! Don’t do anything…!"
"Fucking hell luv, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"
"A spell," I wheezed, "Do something…cold w-water…throw me in a giant fish tank, I don’t care!"
He looked at me as if he was trying not to smile, but his eyes conveyed worry and I clamped my legs together to stop another orgasm. "Stop looking at me like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like you care!" I moaned, riding off another orgasm.
"Bloody hell!" he said, propping me on his bike, "Just calm down, I’ll try to find somewhere for you to cool off…"
I could only nod as he settled himself in front of me and started the engine. The cool breeze soon calmed me down, and I relaxed, letting my head fall onto his back. I took a deep breath and I smelled the cool leather. It smelled of tobacco and sweat and liquor and…I shuddered as it triggered the memory of Spike straddling me, my crotch pushed insistently into his as he lowered his head…
"Ah!" I gasped, beginning to rock back and forth. But it wasn’t enough, which was strange, because just before I was getting off on words alone. I began rocking harder, my opening pressed into the denim of Spike’s jeans.
"What are you doing, pet?"
"I need you inside me," I growled, moving closer and pushing harder.
"What?"
"Nothing! I…uh," I groaned, wrapping my legs around his waist. The bike swerved, but I paid no attention to that as I rubbed myself on him.
"Willow! Stop that!" he ordered, his voice breaking.
"I-I’m sorry! I c-can’t!" I wailed, my hands coming round scrape across his chest and my calves gliding back and forth over his inner thighs. He swerved again, deeper this time, but I paid no attention.
"For fuck’s sake, pet! You’re going to get us killed!"
"Pull over!" I moaned into his ear, and he complied.
"Red, not that I mind having a…oomph!"
I launched myself at him, sending us both to the dirty ground. I couldn’t help it; he was begging to be fucked. I needed him. He was finally there, right where I wanted him. And he couldn’t do a thing.
"Just shut up!" I growled, "I need this, and you’re going to give it to me."
He arched an irresistible eyebrow. "Oh, am I?"
I sneered, "What are you going to do?" I leant forwards, dragging my tongue along his dead pulse point, "Lick me to death? Let’s hope so."
I emphasised my lewd comment with a wiggling of my hips. Spike groaned, humping upwards involuntarily to gain more of that delicious contact. I answered this by pressing down harder and letting my lips meet his in a searing kiss. I tugged at his shirt, making little irritated noises when it got stuck just below his chin. Then I broke away and pulled it up the rest of the way.
"Bind," I muttered. His hands snapped back, over his head. He tried to tug them out of the magical handcuffs, but it was no use.
"Oi, witch, what’re you…"
I admired his hair, the way it contrasted starkly with the dark ground, the way it gave the illusion of brittleness when really it was soft below my fingers, the way it curled easily in my clenched fist.
"Look at you," I said quietly, "bound to the floor, no way to move…I could…" I dragged a sharp fingernail across his chest until a thin line of blood coloured his skin. He gasped and I felt his erection press harder against my opening. I punched him and he growled, turning into his demon visage.
I quivered at the sight, leaning forward so I was an inch away from him, "You can’t do anything…but watch." I moved lower and raked my nails over his chest, pulling up flesh. He snarled and moaned, growing painfully hard. Then I turned black eyes to his, "Shut up, you useless piece of…"
Spike threw his head forwards taking my lips in a kiss. It wasn’t so much a kiss as a battle for dominance, our tongues clashing and lips working furiously against each other. His vampire teeth drew blood from my lips, and he lapped at my mouth greedily. I crawled further up his body so I could kneel over his chest. Grabbing him by his hair, I tilted his head back roughly, biting his tendon. He roared and arched his hips, the side of his neck glistening red as I swallowed his cool blood.
"See how *you* like it," I said heavily, kissing a path down his chest. I lapped up the blood from his wounds, making them sting in the frigid air. His demon visage went back into hiding and he let his head fall back. I was now massaging slow circles on his torso, delighting in the muscles that stirred beneath my lips. I let my fingers run over the hard bumps of his ribcage, then my tongue swirled over his belly button. He took unneeded breaths, continuing to struggle uselessly against the magic preventing him from laying a finger on me.
"Take off…the sodding…spell, luv," he said huskily.
I raised my head and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is puppy getting demanding?"
He smirked. "Do you trust me?"
I thought about that for a moment, then with a sly smile and a flick of my wrist I said, "Relescio."
He rolled us over, attacking my mouth and body with a vicious hunger. I moaned and cried, trying to escape from the fingers that squeezed my flesh. He wasn’t too curious as to why the chip wasn’t going off at my obvious pain, he was too busy concentrating on the sadistic pleasure he got from my struggling body beneath his.
"You women, you think you can always get the upper hand. You think you can control me, think I’m beneath you. Well," he pinned my wrists above my head, "looks like the tables have fucking turned, eh?"
He used one hand to keep my wrists secure, and the other to roam my body at will. I couldn’t help the strangled groan as he scraped his nails on the insides of my thighs, raising welts. I also couldn’t help the gasp of pleasure as he bit into my nipple, or the cry of pain as jammed his knee into my crotch. It hit my over-sensitised bundle of nerves with enough force to make me jerk upwards. He responded by grinding it in harder and pushing me flat on my back.
"Don’t you bloody move," he growled, his fingers digging into my hips as he rubbed my cunt into his thigh, and his crotch into mine. "You’re a dirty girl, and need to be treated like one."
"Y-yes!" I gasped.
He flipped me over, my limbs wobbled but I stabled myself so that I was propped up on my hands and knees. His hands gripped my waist, and with no more warning than that, he ripped my soaked panties from my body, freed his straining cock and thrust it into my opening. We shared a moan as my cunt clenched around him. He didn’t give me time to adjust to his superior size before he drew back and thrust in again. He wedged his thighs between mine, spreading them further apart, as he continued to move in and out of me roughly. I tried to squeeze my thighs together in an attempt to keep his cock buried inside of me, but he kept them uncomfortably wide as his movements grew faster.
My eyes closed and my mouth opened as it emitted sounds of ecstasy. Spike, on the other hand, made noises that sounded very much like ones of pain. My arousal trickled down my inner thighs, and Spike traced the moist path with his finger until he reached my clitoris, which he began stroking furiously.
"Spike…oh, Spike, you fucking…I’m coming!" I screamed, pushing back against him one last time before my inner walls started to convulse. Spike slipped into game face as he came, his cold seed filling my cunt and dribbling down my thighs. He continued to pull in and out until he softened inside of me.
Spike stood up, leaving me very tired and in a demeaning position. I panted, finding the strength to rise to my feet, "Spike?"
"Yeah, luv?" he asked, tugging on his T-Shirt and fastening his pants.
"I’m sorry," I replied, and he shrugged, tossing me his leather duster.
"Yeah. Figured that," he said smoothly, hopping on his motorcycle. He started up the engine, and not looking at me once, drove away, leaving me wondering if he even heard what I had said at all.
The End.