Pairing: S/W
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through “Hush” from Season 4, but mostly focuses on “School Hard” from Season 2.
Distribution: Bite Me, Please? Soulmates, and Near Her Always. Anyone else, if you want it, just ask. I always say yes.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, I just play with them when I get lonely at night…
Dedication: To Inell for the constant support and inspiration, to Feen for the encouragement, and Lisa-pet for her birthday!
Summary: Plotless smut about a naughty dream
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Willow bounced excitedly as she changed into her pajamas and tucked herself into bed. She wrinkled her nose a bit as she looked as the steaming mug of thick, purplish-grayish liquid on her bedside table. It didn’t look very appetizing, and it smelled kinda like wet paint. Mentally giving herself her Resolve Face, she picked it up. It looked exactly the way it was supposed to look, according to the book she had gotten it from, which meant (hopefully) that it would do exactly what it was supposed to do. After one last, nervous gulp, she pinched her nose and chugged it down. She slammed her hand over her mouth as soon as she was finished so she wouldn’t give in to the urge to throw it all back up. Yep, it was just as disgusting as it looked. Grimacing, she put the mug back on the table and settled herself under the blankets. Within moments, she was asleep.
The idea had come to her in those miserable couple of days when Sunnydale was without sound. With all the time she had on her hands with no classes and no conversations with friends, she found herself noticing little details that would normally slip past her. The problem was, all those little details seemed already familiar. Willow had always had a problem with constant feelings of déjà vu, but she never gave them much thought, simply chalking it up as just one of those freaky Hellmouth things. But when they researched The Gentlemen along with the fragments that Buffy told them about her foreshadowing dream, the pieces finally came together for Willow. Maybe it was something more than just freaky déjà vu. And maybe Buffy wasn’t the only one with prophetic dreams.
Willow had never been very good at remembering her dreams. When she was little, she used to wake up screaming from nightmares, and then be unable to explain to her parents exactly what it was that had scared her so badly. They would look at each other over her head and say that she was obviously engaged in a plea for attention and that they should possibly take her to a therapist who would be able to help her get over her psychological repression and spotlight-seeking behavior. Then they’d get into an argument over different types of treatment available to children, and forget all about her.
Her whole life, flashes from her dreams would come to her at odd times, but she was never able to remember more than bits and pieces. But those little pieces had, on more than one occasion, given her instincts in a situation that saved her life. When she realized that she might be having prophetic dreams, it occurred to her that she had a very valuable tool that she wasn’t using.
She’d talked about it with Tara, the girl she had met in the Wicca group, and Tara had suggested a spell from an old book that had belonged to her mother. The spell allowed a person’s conscious mind to enter their own dreams as an observer. Willow had jumped at the idea. The potion that the spell required had taken over a week to prepare, but Willow had tackled the task meticulously, determined not to mess up another spell. The potion, when finished, looked just as it should, and within seconds of swallowing it, she fell instantly into a deep, dream-filled sleep.
She looked around eagerly, excited to see where her dreams had taken her. To her surprise, she was in the high school lounge. The non-burnt-to-a-crisp high school lounge, where lights were being switched off by the not-yet-eaten-by-a-big-snake Principal Snyder. Willow looked around more carefully. Tables, decorations, a bowl full of very sour lemonade, Buffy looking nervous, Joyce looking upset, and herself looking… well… sixteen again. Willow winced as she looked at her outfit. Okay, so Cordelia had been way crueler than necessary all those years she had made fun of Willow’s clothes, but she did have something of a point.
“Parent Teacher night,” she said to herself. “Great. Not only do I not have prophetic dreams, I don’t even have *original* dreams. Honestly, is this the best my subconscious can come up with?”
Everyone else in the dream jumped when two vampires suddenly come crashing through the window. Willow, on the other hand, yawned. She’d seen it all before. She glanced at her nails as several more vampires stormed into the room and wondered if it would be possible to somehow leave this dream early and move on to another one. But then an unmistakable voice echoed through the room and she started to realize why she might be having this dream in the first place. Even though she only remembered bits of her dreams, she remembered enough to know that that particular voice had become very common in them, lately.
“What can I say? I couldn't wait.”
Willow shivered as she looked at him. Along with the rest of the gang, she had gotten used to thinking of Spike as the fangless annoyance that ate all the snacks and whined about blood all the time. Gorgeous, yes. Unbearably sexy, even when he was pouting (mmm, *especially* when he was pouting), yes. But dangerous? Not anymore. She had forgotten what it had been like junior year when Spike was chipless, undefeated, and positively radiating power and danger. The shiver settled in her lower abdomen. Damn, but he made evil look… absolutely delicious.
She felt herself pulled along as her dream-self ran and felt a moment of regret. If it was just a dream, why couldn’t she stay and stare at Spike? She couldn’t do it in real life; he’d catch her staring and make fun of her until the end of time. Staring at Spike in a dream was harmless and fun. Willow ran her eyes over Spike one more time before her dream-self pulled her completely out of view. <Oh yes,> she thought to herself as the tingling in her abdomen got worse <it’s *always* fun to stare at Spike.>
Willow watched as her dream-self and Cordelia came running out of the lounge and ducked into a closet. Moments later, that delectable voice was back.
“Slaaayer! Here, kitty, kitty.” Willow shivered again at the sound of his voice, and wondered in dream-Willow’s panties were wet, or if it was just her. Of course, during the actual event, Willow had been too scared to get turned on. Well, she’d been too scary to get more than a *little* turned on. After all, British accents had a way of going straight to her panties, no matter how scared she got. But since Willow was in the dream only as an observer and knew that she could not be seen, heard, or touched, she knew that she was in no danger. She was, therefore, free to let Spike’s voice get her as horny as it could.
“I find one of your friends first, I'm gonna suck 'em dry. And use their bones to bash your head in,” Spike continued, walking right past Willow who licked her lips as she got a much more ‘up close and personal’ view of his ass than she had ever been privileged to before. She wondered if it really was that perfect, or if her subconscious was just having a little fun with the image. “Are you getting a word picture here?”
“Spike! Listen...” a vampire near Spike called out and Willow growled at him. He was interrupting her moment.
“Someone's in the ceeeeeiling!” Spike stated in a singsong voice, and started to head off in another direction. Willow pouted. She was stuck within a ten-foot radius of her dream-self at all times, so she couldn’t follow. Seating herself on the floor, she hoped that the dream got a lot more interesting, soon. If all it did was follow what had happened in reality, then she’d spend the rest of it stuck alone in a closet with Cordelia Chase, which still rated as one of the worst memories of her life, right up there with being trapped under a bookcase in the library by Drusilla and… hey, this was different. Willow watched with interest as the closet door hiding her dream-self and Cordelia opened.
“I think he's gone,” Cordelia whispered as she stepped out of the closet.
“He could come back!” dream-Willow hissed from inside, gesturing for Cordelia to come back in and shut the door.
“But what if he doesn’t?” Cordelia asked, turning to face dream-Willow. “Then I’d be stuck in a closet for God knows how long with *you*.”
Willow smirked as she watched her dream-self debate whether or not it was morally conscionable to let Cordelia go off to be eaten by vampires.
“Alright, Cordelia,” dream-Willow said at last. “If you want to go so badly, then go. I’ll stay here.”
“Okay!” Cordelia replied cheerfully, strutting off down the hall. Dream-Willow enclosed herself back in the closet.
About thirty seconds later, both Willows heard a high-pitched, piercing scream come from another part of the building, and a minute after that, a loud, annoyed (and annoying) voice started heading down the hall saying, “Hey careful, fang face, do you know how much this dress cost? And while we’re at it, do you have to be so rough with the whole ‘dragging the girl down the hall’ thing? I mean just because what’s-his-name told you to bring all people trying to escape to him is no reason to treat me like a prisoner or something.” Willow caught a glimpse of Cordelia being dragged down a hallway by a vampire who looked to be in an extremely foul mood. “I mean really, what ever happened to subtlety? It couldn’t kill you to say please; you’re dead already! And for that matter…” Cordelia continued for another few seconds before the voices, thankfully, got too far away to hear.
After that, everything was blessedly quiet for a few minutes. While Willow definitely appreciated the contrast from the first time she had been stuck in the closet (*anything* was preferable to listening to Cordelia Chase’s prayers) she was starting to wonder how long she was going to have to sit in a dream where nothing was going on. Surely her subconscious could come up with something better than that.
Of course, in accordance with Sunnydale tradition, she no sooner wished for something to happen then all hell broke loose.
The first thing she heard was the roar. Next thing she knew, Xander was barreling down the hallway as if the legions of hell were after him. Angel was running alongside him… and the legions of hell were running after them. Spike was at the back of the pack but he stopped when he reached where Willow was standing. She froze, wondering if it was possible that he knew she was there (which didn’t seem likely since Xander and about half a dozen vampires had run right through her and hadn’t noticed a thing) when she realized that his focus was on the closet door where dream-Willow hid.
“Fe,” Spike said, taking a step closer to the door, “fi,” another step, “fo,” another “fum. I smell the blood of a nice…” he put his hand on the doorknob of the closet, “…ripe…” he turned the knob in his hand, “…girl.” He opened the closet. Willow rushed forward into the closet with her dream-self. Things had just gotten interesting and she’d be damned before she’d give up a front row seat for this.
“Come out, Little Red,” Spike purred. “It’s time to meet the Big, Bad Wolf.”
Willow watched as dream-Willow hesitantly stepped out of the closet and into the hallway. Spike circled her, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “You’re one of the slayer’s little friends, aren’t you, Little Red?” Shakily, dream-Willow nodded. “You know what I said I’d do to her friends when I found them?” he whispered, switching to her other ear and blowing on it gently. His grin turned wolfish when she shivered.
“I said I’d suck them dry,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body up against his. He used his other hand to brush her hair away from her neck, then ran his tongue over the exposed flesh with a long, slow, sensual lick. Dream-Willow shivered again and closed her eyes. Willow, herself, was starting to feel a little weak in the knees.
“Do you want me to suck you dry, Little Red?” he asked, attaching his mouth to her neck and sucking on it slowly, still in human face. Willow watched his hand slip up from her waist to cover her breast. He caressed it firmly for a few moments. Both Willow and dream-Willow hissed when he pinched the nipple.
“Ever been sucked, Little Red?” Spike whispered in her ear, letting his other hand drop to caress her thigh. “Ever been tasted? Ever been savored for hours?” His hand slid up to cradle her core, sliding up under the hem of her skirt and then down into the waistline of her tights. Willow was tempted to get down on the floor and look to see exactly what his hand was doing, but she felt a little strange, looking up her own skirt. Besides, a second later, she knew *exactly* what Spike was doing.
“Ever been *penetrated*?” he asked, letting his fangs slide out just enough to graze against her throat. The jerk of dream-Willow’s hips and the gasp that flew out of her lips made it very clear that her neck wasn’t the only part of her being grazed. She sagged against Spike, clearly dependant on him to hold her up as her legs turned to spaghetti.
Willow followed her example, and let her legs go limp as she slowly slid to the floor. Deciding that dream-Willow shouldn’t be the only one having the fun of being penetrated, she spread her legs, sliding her hand down the waistband of her boxers, and then inside her panties, moaning with satisfaction as her eager fingers found her soaking wet slit.
“The last girl I killed,” Spike continued, his voice dropping to a lower register as he continued moving his hand under her skirt, “she begged for her life.” He dropped his face back to her neck and licked away the tiny trails of blood his fangs had left. “Will you beg?” he whispered, thrusting his hips against her ass.
Willow didn’t know about her dream-self, but she, personally, was so turned on at that moment, she’d have stripped naked and hopped on one foot while patting her head and rubbing her belly and singing “The Star Spangled Banner” if it would have gotten Spike to fuck her. She was so wet, she’d have been dripping on the floor, if she were actually there instead of just viewing it as an observer. As it was, she knew she’d have to change her panties and boxers when she woke up, and maybe change the sheets as well.
Dream-Willow seemed to agree, if her moans of “Yes, please yes…” were any indication.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Spike chuckled, grabbing her body and pressing her against the wall, pining her with his hard body and guiding her legs so that she was straddling his waist, legs spread wide and his hand still playing inside her panties. He thrust his hand hard up against her, smirking when her eyes slammed shut and she gave a guttural groan.
“So noisy, Little Red,” he teased. “What if someone hears? What if someone comes walking down this hall and sees you like this, skirt hiked up, legs spread, with half my hand buried up your twat?” Dream-Willow moaned even louder, and Spike tsked in teasing disapproval. “Can’t have you making all that noise, can we? Now, what can I do about that, do you think?” Without waiting for her response, he slammed his mouth onto hers, taking advantage of her already-parted lips to slide his tongue instantly inside her.
Spike lifted a hand to the back of her head to angle her mouth properly against his. Following his example, her hands flew to his head, tangling her fingers in his hair as she pulled his mouth even closer to hers. Once she got the hang of it, he let his hand slide down to the neckline of her shirt. He trailed a single fingertip against the warm skin just above the neckline and smiled against her mouth when she shivered. His hand closed over the material and with a firm tug, ripped it away. He reached a hand inside the cup of the bra and pulled her breast out over it, squeezing and kneading it in his large hand. Dream-Willow pulled her mouth away from his to gasp in pleasure. Spike replied with a wicked smirk and used his now-unoccupied mouth to suckle her bared breast while his hand slid behind her back and quickly worked the clasp on the bra.
Willow, from her position on the floor, groaned and slid another finger inside her pussy, cursing the fact that her fingers were so slim. She had three inside her already. If Spike got her any hotter, she’d be fisting herself, which would be a first. She’d never been this turned on in her life, and she wasn’t being touched by anyone other than herself! Her free hand yanked up her tank top to uncover her own breasts. Sliding a few fingers into her mouth, she sucked on them until they were well-lubricated and then started pinching and teasing her nipples, trying to image the feel of Spike’s tongue and teeth worrying the hardened buds.
Meanwhile, dream-Willow was going insane. While Spike’s mouth focused on teasing and tormenting her breasts, her mouth traveled everywhere she could reach, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses on his hair, his face, his neck, and what she could reach of his shoulders and chest by clawing at his t-shirt. Then she froze. Willow couldn’t see what it was, precisely, that Spike had done, but whatever it was, it sent dream-Willow into the most intense orgasm Willow had ever seen. She screamed out her release in a single, sustained, high-pitched note about half an octave higher than Willow had ever managed to reach before. Spike let her ride it out until she was shaking from head to toe. Then and only then did he pull his fingers out of her.
Spike smiled when she groaned at the feel of his talented fingers leaving her body and smiled even more at her lust-filled gasp when she saw him take his soaked fingers and slide them into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Delicious, my sweet little Red,” he murmured. He looked thoroughly satisfied with himself at the state to which he had reduced her. He moved back a bit, as if to let her pull away from him, but dream-Willow surprised him by tightening her legs around his waist and hurling herself at him, attacking his mouth with reckless abandon, sucking on his tongue as she took his taste mixed with hers back into herself. And he was shocked as hell when her hands started tugging at the zipper on his jeans. He pulled away, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him when she tried to lean back in to reinitiate the kiss.
“Red? You’re sure you want this?”
She replied by taking the hand that was clasping her chin and raising it to her lips, pressing a soft kiss on each of his fingers. “I want this, Spike,” she answered. “I want all of you. Please, Spike.” She leaned in and started planting soft kisses all over his face, murmuring “please” after every kiss. Spike captured her lips with his and kissed her passionately, with an intensity that hadn’t been there before. Dream-Willow’s hands returned to his fly and this time he didn’t stop her as she unfastened it completely, pushing his jeans down slightly on his hips so that she could work his erection out and into her eager hands. She positioned him at her entrance and he pulled away from the kiss. They froze like that for a moment, just staring at each other, and then he sank deep inside her, pulling a groan out of both of them, before he fastened his lips to hers and began moving inside her.
Willow was nearly in tears. Whatever Spike had done to set dream-Willow off, she hadn’t been able to duplicate it, and in the relative calm that had followed, she’d lost the edge to climax. Now, of course, it was back with a vengeance. She couldn’t take her eyes off of where Spike and dream-Willow were joined, couldn’t stop staring at their tongues, their limbs, their cores intertwined as if they were long-separated puzzle pieces that had finally been fitted together. She could almost taste the climax building inside her, just needing one last thing to push her over the edge, when dream-Willow pulled away from Spike, pushing his face down to her neck.
“All of you, Spike,” she panted. “Please, I need to have all of you.” Spike reared back just long enough for Willow and dream-Willow to see his demon visage come to the fore before he buried his face and his fangs into her neck. Willow raised her hand to her neck, digging her fingernails into the skin as she and her dream-self soared into an orgasm so powerful, it woke her up.
Her eyes flew open to lock with crystal blue eyes lit up with lust and passion. “Spike,” she murmured, so caught up in the images of her dream that her mind didn’t quite comprehend that she was awake, and the vampire was sitting on the edge of her bed, where he had no business being. Her mouth attacked his, moaning at the ability to finally taste and touch him, as she had been longing to do since the dream began. Spike froze for a moment, but then began kissing her back with just as much enthusiasm. His hands buried themselves in her hair as he fastened his mouth more firmly on hers, pushing his weight forward to lay her back down on the bed, with his body on top of hers. She purred with pleasure at the full-body contact and was lifting her hands to get his clothes out of the way when her hand struck an object, sending it hurtling to the floor where it crashed and shattered on impact. Dazedly, Willow looked over and saw the pieces of what used to be her coffee mug sitting on the floor.
Coffee mug.
Potion.
Potion for allowing her to observe her dreams, which meant that if she was seeing her mug then the dream was over and she… was… awake.
Whoops.
She scrambled away from Spike so quickly and abruptly that she would have fallen off the bed if he hadn’t been holding on to her.
“Easy there, Red, where’s the fire?” he murmured, gathering her back up against him and trying to reinitiate the kiss.
“W-what happened?” Willow asked frantically, twisting in his arms.
“We were kissing,” Spike replied with a smirk. “Don’t you remember? Went something like this.” This time, he managed to recapture her lips for another searing kiss. Willow moaned into his mouth as all thoughts temporarily flew from her head. Unfortunately, they didn’t stay gone for long.
“Spike, wait! What are you doing here?”
“Watcher sent me,” Spike answered when he finished pouting over how she had pulled away from him. “You were supposed to be at his place an hour ago. When you didn’t show, they decided that neutered vamps make good errand boys and sent me after you.”
Willow nodded slowly. So far, the explanation made sense. “But what were you doing sitting on my bed?” she asked.
Spike’s smirk returned with a vengeance. “You were dead to the world when I came in,” he replied. “You didn’t even hear me knocking. I called the watcher, and he said I should just let you sleep. I was going to leave, but then you started moaning my name.” He ran the tips of his fingers over her hand that lay behind her on the bed, propping her up. She blushed as she realized that those fingers were still wet with her cum. “And since you were calling for me, I figured I might as well stay. After all,” he concluded with a devilish gleam in his eyes, “the dream smelled like fun.”
Spike pulled her hand into his and raised it to his lips, slowly licking away all of the moisture. “Ever been tasted like this, Red? Ever been savored?”
Willow’s eyes had drifted shut when Spike started sucking on her fingers, but they flew open at this comment. “What is it?” Spike questioned. “Did I say something wrong?” His lips moved from her fingers to her wrist, licking and sucking on the soft skin for a few moments before moving slowly up her arm. “Or did I say something right?” His lips were on her elbow by now. Willow wondered why she had never realized before that the elbow was an erogenous zone.
“I…mmm, that feels nice… I was sleeping because I drank a potion. Oooh, right there.”
“A potion?” Spike asked as his tongue traced the line of her bicep then moved back down to tease her inner elbow again.
“What? Oh, yes. Potion. It…yesss,” she hissed as his teeth entered her skin for a brief taste, “it was supposed to help me remember my dreams.” She let out a sound between a purr and a growl as Spike lapped at the blood on her arm while one of his hands slid to her waist, tracing patterns on her soft flesh that matched the patterns he traced with his tongue in her blood. “I think some of my dreams are prophetic, but I can never remember them when I wake up.”
“Mmm,” Spike murmured as his lips reached her shoulder, “I love a girl with prophetic visions. Very sexy.” His lips skimmed up her neck to her ear and he nibbled on the lobe. “Tell me about your dream.”
“It was that time in high school when you crashed the parent/teacher night,” she answered between gasps as he attacked her neck with lips, tongue, and teeth. “You… oh! You found me in the closet where I was hiding.”
“Mmm, nice dream,” Spike purred.
“No, it was awful,” Willow answered. “Because of the potion, I was an observer so all I could do was watch while you fucked the living daylights out of dream-me.”
“Poor pet,” Spike said in mock commiseration. “Want Spike to make it all better?” His hand shifted from her waist to the waistline of her boxers. “Want me to make your dreams come true?”
“God, yes,” she answered, yanking his mouth back to hers as she kissed him with all the passion she could muster. Her impatient hands pulled his clothes away as quickly as she could, then pulled back to admire his naked form. She frowned slightly.
“What’s wrong, Red?” Spike asked, looking worried. Did she not like what she saw?
“I don’t have prophetic dreams after all,” she answered, sounding sad.
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re much more beautiful than I dreamed,” she replied. Spike’s smile returned.
“Well, just because the dream wasn’t prophetic doesn’t mean I can’t make it come true, does it?” he questioned as he pulled her closer. Her only reply was another fiery kiss. He responded in kind, pushing her back underneath him on the bed. This time, she didn’t pull away. For hours on end, she didn’t pull away as he made every dream, every thought, and every fantasy she had ever had about him come true.
THE END