Pairings: W/S (B/G, X/Anya, C/D)
Spoilers: Through Pangs or further, I suppose - I've not seen after Pangs yet. But I've played a bit with some associations, such as W/O not shagging. Just enjoy and don't worry about canon.
Rating: R
Challenge: From the AlternaBuffyFic list. This is a response to Nightbird's December challenge. Incorporate Spike, Christmas celebrations, someone getting drunk, something embarrassing being told, and three of the following: chocolate cake, a jersey you always get off an aunt and never wear, a bean bag chair, someone waking up with someone unexpected, the quote "On the count of... kick...Kick!" or "What on earth are you doing to the furniture," the lyrics to K's Choice--Virgin State of Mind, a pink haired troll, and Danger Mouse boxer shorts. As usual, I go above and beyond and incorporate all the stipulations. Someday, perhaps, I won't be so anal. (yeah, right)
Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon and are delivered by way of the great WB.
Author's Note: This is my first Buffyverse fic. I (almost always) only write when challenged. I'm an established writer in Trek fic, and I'm obsessive about Xena fic as well. If anything, I'm well read. I'm having major writer's block on a massive Voyager series I'm working on and I just couldn't get this challenge out of my head. So I figured I'd dash it off and get back to "Dark Waters." And yes - it's the dreaded SONG FIC! Although I must say I was much more subtle with it this time. :) Happy Birthday, Nightbird.
Feel free to read my fic and visit the fan fic Web sites I design at
www.sileya.net
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Outside just the slightest tinge of pink lights the sky. Shiny green holly with plumes of red berries hangs about the eaves, misteltoe at the doors, red ribbon twines about the banister.
The main room in Giles' house is dimly lit, sleeping bodies strewn around the sparkling Christmas tree. Giles is stretched out on the couch, in his sock feet and jeans, Buffy curled up on top of him in her Count Chocula nightshirt. His arms encircle her protectively, her twine about his neck; happy smiles grace their faces. Xander is crashed out on a bubble-gum pink bean bag chair he brought from home, in his Danger Mouse boxers and a Dingoes Ate My Baby t-shirt, Anya sleeps with her head on his shoulder, her arm possessively over his waist. Doyle and Cordelia claimed the armchair and ottoman early in the evening, she now slumbers on his lap, his head tilts sideways against the flaring back as they sleep in each other's arms.
A mess of a holiday feast sprawls across the dining room table, littered plates, filmy glasses and crusted silverware evidence of the past meal - and the remnants of a chocolate cake stand regnant above the devoured foodstuffs.
The soft light from tiny bulbs decorating the Christmas tree casts oddly shaped shadows on the walls and in the corners. The same twinkles cast off crunched up wrapping paper, torn into shreds that turn the carpet a myriad of colors. Mounds of new clothing lie untidy, some still nestled in boxes, mangled tissue paper wrapping peeking out. A jersey for the Mighty Ducks hangs over the back of a dining table chair, Giles had muttered something about a sweater like one of his aunt used to give him (that he never wore). The steel heads on a quiver of wooden crossbow bolts shine from the velveted case, Buffy's squeals of pleasure had resounded joyfully in the ears of those who love her. The glitter of diamond earrings sparkle from the rich red tree skirt where Cordy had dropped them when Doyle professed his love. All manner of books are stacked in piles around the tree, along with ripped-open envelopes of gift certificates. A stack of video tapes had fallen and scattered across the carpet hours ago, the new VCR proudly stands displayed atop the TV.
Besides the lights, a string of troll dolls hangs on the tree, a particular number of them. Devised by Anya of all people - from each troll dangled a name tag. A troll with bright blonde hair had a toothpick in hand (The Slayer) stood connected to one with the gray hair closely trimmed, wearing a tweed cloak, and glasses had been drawn on its face (The Watcher). Next, a Troll with short pink hair and a dress wearing a necklace (Anya) is connected to a Troll in green holding a bag of potato chips (Xander). A doll with its brown hair slicked back is dressed like a debutante, (Queen C) is right next to a Troll with red spikes all over its face (Doyle). Finally, a Troll with flaming red hair next, holding a stack of matchbooks (Willow), and one with cropped white hair and a black leather jacket (Spike).
Whispers only slightly break the silence of the room, soft voices from behind the Christmas tree.
"You never answered your truth question, luv. Do you think I'm sexy?" Spike growls in her ear softly.
Willow shakes her head, warding him off his lanky body moving closer makes her own body press into the wall, her shaking hands, soft smile and glinting eyes betraying her lie.
"It was just a game of truth or dare, Spike," Willow replies, her eyes cast shyly to the floor as he presses closer to her.
"Yah, I believe that, luv. Truth or dare after spiked egg nog? It's a wonder there wasn't an orgy in front of the tree..." he answers, voice low as he studies her.
"Well, it was funny at the time - getting Xander to admit his most embarrassing moment - who'd have thought he'd mention that he lost his...virginity...to Faith?" Willow says matter-of-factly.
"Cordelia sure didn't. Doyle had to hold her down." Spike reminds her.
Willow giggles softly. "She was drunk...I'm sure of it."
Spike smiles a bit and speaks again, lowly. "Back to my question, ducks - do you think I'm sexy?" his fingers lift her chin so she has to look at him.
Willow's face flushed, visible to Spike even in the low light. "Why does that make you blush, pet? It's not like you're a virgin..." he murmurs.
Willow only blushes harder, embarrassed. Spike blinks. "What about the dog...Oz?"
Willow shrugs, not able to speak.
"Willow - do you think I care? Whether you're a virgin or not?" Spike asks curiously.
Willow shrugs. "I can't believe we're talking about this." she murmurs under her breath.
Spike chuckles. "You don't have to be scared of me, luv. Now, Buffy - in that t-shirt - that's something to be scared of."
Willow chuckles again, relaxing a bit. Spike moves closer, changing ideas mid-thought.
"What do you do...where do you go when you're scared, luv?" he murmurs as his hands skim down her arms, soaking up her warmth. His eyes caress the fine lines of her white skin.
Willow waits a moment, before whispering, "There's a chair...in my head...in which I used to sit..." she presses her eyes shut, trying to will herself away.
"A place to run away to? To deny what's happening? To avoid it?" Willow nods, biting her bottom lip lightly.
Spike shakes his head. "There's nothing to fear here, luv." he says as he decides to try and make his Christmas wish come true. "The dog would never give you the thrill...not like I will, Red." Spike replies silkily, fingers trailing along her collarbone, his mouth quirking as he smells her sweat and arousal mixing, turning her damp and weak.
Her eyes fly up to his. "Will? You will? I mean..." Willow stutters in a whisper, face flaring. "But..but why? Why me? Why now?" she looks up at him with confused eyes flushed with warmth.
"I guess I'm in a virgin state of mind, luv..." Spike hisses. On impulse, he leans forward to trail the cool wet of his tongue down the side of her face.
Willow shudders, blinking, the tiny sparkles from the lighted Christmas tree phasing in and out of her vision in fuzzy globes - blue and orange, red and yellow. She draws in a shaky breath, the heavy sensuality of the air making her drunk...on Spike.
"Oh..." is all that comes out of her mouth. Spike doesn't even notice, moving closer to press his body against her as his lips touch hers, his tongue darting to tease along the corner of her amazed mouth.
Throwing caution to the wind, she presses her mouth to his and their tongues tangle in a dance for possession, just as Spike's hands push up under Willow's top, his hands caressing her heated skin. Her moans fill his mouth, and he pushes his pelvis against her, grinding his erection into the joint of her legs.
For several minutes Willow's labored breaths fill the still room as Spike ravishes her, her own hands moving over his cool body, keeping him close to her. A stifled cry echoes as his fingers plunge into her, followed by an evil chuckle.
"Come, Willow my sweet..." he growls as he manipulates her to a wet orgasm, covering her mouth to quiet her inarticulate sounds.
After a moment, he pulls her from the wall, and abruptly spins the last empty armchair around, its back facing the room's occupants. Shucking off his pants, he pulls Willow toward him, and she climbs onto his lap, knees at either side of his hips. His erection pushes at her wet core, and she smiles down at him, eyes filled with heat and arousal.
Spike slowly pulls her down on him, stopping when his way is blocked. His eyes look up to hers, hands stilling her hips. "Willow..."
"You said you were in a virgin state of mind..." she murmurs, growing bolder and dipping down to capture his mouth as she pushes herself down upon him, capturing his heavy groan in her mouth.
With Spike's help, Willow begins to move up and down his shaft, her soft moans filling his ears as they lose themselves in each other.
Bothered by something just outside sleep, Xander comes to wakefulness. First he feels the weight on his shoulder, and he smiles, remembering Anya is with him. Then he opens his eyes...and he sees Willow.
His heart jumps - she wasn't who he expected to wake up to. His sleep-filled eyes blink as his comatose mind grinds into gear, and he notices Willow is moving - up... and... down...??
He shakes his head a bit to clear it and opens his eyes wider, trying to form some explanation. His incredulous voice wakes everyone else.
"Willow? What are you doing to the furniture??"
The End