Rating: NC17
Pairing: Willow/Spike (as it should be)
Spoilers: Through end of season 4.
Summary: Spike and Willow come to an understanding.
Notes: Fluff, the whole fluff, and nothing but the fluff. * * indicate emphasis.
Feedback: It's ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)! Don't make me beg, it's not pretty.
E-mail: spikedluv@midtel.net
Distribution: If anybody wants it, please take it. Just tell me where it goes so I can keep track...OK, so I can pull it up and just stare at it for a while!
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, just borrowing them for awhile. Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr Argh, the WB, UPN and whoever else they really belong to, although I wouldn't mind having a Spike of my own. Who would?
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The front door to Giles' apartment slammed open making Willow jump and glance up. Spike entered in a billow of black, leather duster and took one last drag off of his cigarette before pinching it out and tossing it out the door. He kicked the door shut and blew the smoke out of his dead lungs as he sauntered toward the living room.
The apartment was empty except for Willow who was sitting Indian-style in the comfy chair in the corner, her lap top on the footstool in front of her and a thick tome open on her knees.
"What do you want, Spike?" she asked the blond vampire in disgust.
"Nothing *you* can give me, witch," he retorted snidely as he plopped down on the couch and lifted his booted feet to the coffee table.
"Whatever," she scrunched her nose up and rolled her eyes, then turned her attention back to the book she had been reading before she was so rudely interrupted. Stupid vampire, anyway. What did he think he was doing, dropping by like they were friends. They *weren't* friends, he'd made sure of that.
I mean, she fumed to herself, first he comes back all grrr and trying to bite her only to have to turn to them for help when he couldn't feed because of the chip. And they *did* help him. Gladly. Well, reluctantly. And there *were* the chains. But, he was a vampire, he probably thought back on his time spent chained in the bathtub fondly.
And how did he repay their kindness, alright, tolerance, of him? By being mean and...and a big, fat liar, that's how! First he told her and Xander that they were useless, impediments, even, to Buffy's fight against evil.
And he made them *pay* him to help them! She could understand that he needed money to live on, blood didn't grow on trees, after all, but none of *them* got paid. Not even Buffy, and she was the *Slayer*!
And *then* he went and jumped ship like the traitorous...poophead...that he was, siding with Adam, that demon hybrid monstrosity created by the Initiative. He *lied* to them, pretending to help them when he was really helping Adam. He even tried to drive a wedge between them, and nearly succeeded before they realized what he was up to.
She could understand that he wanted the chip out, but helping Adam was just...wrong! Spike ended up helping them defeat Adam, but that was only because Adam had lied to him about removing the chip in return for his help and Spike was forced to run for his life, er, unlife.
Ha! It wasn't nice being on the receiving end of the lie, was it?
"Where is everyone?" Spike broke the silence, annoyed that the little chit was ignoring him. Nobody ignored the big bad.
"Not here," Willow didn't look away from the book she was pretending to read.
"Know that," Spike ground out. "Where?"
Willow looked up in exasperation. "Buffy and Giles are on patrol, Xander and Anya had plans and I am *trying* to research. What...do...you...want?" she repeated.
"Like I said...," Spike smirked.
"Yeah, yeah," Willow waved her hand at him. "Well, since I'm the only one here, and I can't give you what you want, why don't you leave?"
"Trying to get rid of me, witch?" he asked, pretending hurt.
"Um," she put her finger to her chin and stared at the ceiling in fake concentration, then looked back at him. "Yes!"
"That's not nice," Spike taunted.
"Nice?" Willow looked at him in disbelief, her heart raced and she could feel the flush suffusing her skin. "*Nice*?" she asked again. "How *dare* you?" she stood and dropped the book on the chair. "You come in here like we're friends," she indicated the front door he'd recently slammed through as she stormed over to him, "but we're not friends. You don't even like us. You just use us. You're a mean...using...lying...jerk," she finished with her hands on her hips, her chest heaving angrily as she tried to stare him down.
"Oh, Red, you wound me," Spike mocked her as he brought his hands to his chest dramatically. "Mean? I'm *evil*. Besides, you know what they say...sticks and stones and what all."
"Yeah," she took a step forward, "they say if you shove a stake through your unfeeling, unbeating heart you'll turn to dust!" she lifted one hand from her hip and slapped him as hard as she could.
Spike's head jerked to the side and he glared at her with amber eyes. Bugger, he thought, *that* was unexpected. Even more unexpected was the hard-on he now sported, which only grew as he got a whiff of the delectable scent of Willow's fear as she took a step back. Oh, yeah, he was going to show her...The front door opened to admit Buffy and Giles.
Bloody hell, that was bleedin' bad timing, Spike thought as he imagined what he would do to the little redhead. He could work around the chip. It wouldn't go off if he didn't intend to hurt her, and he didn't...much. He closed his eyes as he imagined himself buried in her heat as she writhed beneath him, begging, screaming his name as he...
"Spike!" he looked up to see an aggravated Buffy staring at him.
"What?"
"I asked what you were doing here," Buffy said.
"Just checking in," he waved a hand nonchalantly, "but I see you've got it all covered, so I'll just be going," he stood up with a glance at Willow and left without another word. He had a lot of thinking to do.
Buffy turned to Willow who still stood frozen in place, rubbing her stinging palm, "What was that all about?"
"I don't know," Willow said, and it wasn't a complete lie, `cause she was wondering what in hell just happened herself.
***
Spike climbed the stairs of Giles' courtyard apartment, leaned against the stone wall at the top and lit a cigarette. What in bloody hell just happened, he thought. Willow, the shy, good little witch, had yelled at him, and slapped him. Hard. Hard enough to make *him* hard.
He wasn't sure which had shocked him more, the fact that she slapped him or the fact that he liked it. Despite the fact that vampires got off on pain, giving it, receiving it, made no difference, Spike never thought *Willow* would be able to...rock his world. But she had, and he was still reeling.
Hell, she was biteable, he hadn't been lying when he told her that, but he'd never thought about her as being shagable. She was too good, too pure, to turn his head. The goodness, it just *oozed* out of her pores. It was disgusting, really, how sweet and *nice* she was.
But he'd seen a different side to her tonight, she'd lost her temper, yelled at him and slapped him. He wasn't sure who had been more surprised, her or him. And he wondered what it would take to make her lose control again.
***
To Willow's dismay Spike began attending the Scooby meetings regularly. He bickered with Buffy and Xander, only pretended to research, and made comments designed to raise Willow's ire. She suspected that he was playing with her. He hadn't mentioned the incident, but she feared that he was trying to find a way to get back at her for slapping him the other night. She was only partly right. Turns out, he was just trying to find a way to get her.
The night, a week later, that Buffy came back early from patrol with a gash that ran along her jaw line was the night that everything came to a head.
"Buffy, what happened?" Willow was the first one to see the hurt Slayer as she staggered into the apartment and she jumped up from the table and ran over to her, helping her to a chair.
"Demons," Buffy panted as she held her hand to the gash. "Big, ugly...did I mention *big*?" she swayed in the chair.
Giles appeared at Willow's side and she stepped back so he could tend to Buffy's injury.
"I need to go back out and make sure they're not killing...ow!" Buffy slapped at Giles' hand as he cleaned her wound.
"Stop complaining," Giles said as he concentrated.
"You can't go, you're hurt!" Willow told her. "We'll go. Xander and...," her voice trailed off as she realized that Xander and Anya weren't there that evening.
"I'll go," Spike stood up and grabbed his duster. "Anything would be better than sitting here reading these dusty old books."
Willow just stared at him. She had been planning on going, but she didn't want to go with Spike. She knew he couldn't hurt her, but he annoyed the hell out of her and she just didn't need anymore of that tonight.
Willow came back to the conversation as Spike said, "Witch doesn't have to go if she's scared or can't handle it."
"I can handle it!" Willow automatically defended herself and then realized that she'd fallen into his trap. Spike just smirked at her.
"Let's go, then," he waved his hand toward the door and Willow grabbed her jacket.
"Weapons," Buffy managed to say before they left and Spike grabbed a battle axe for himself and a short sword for Willow out of the weapons trunk. He strode out of the apartment with both weapons in his hands leaving Willow to follow him.
Willow stepped through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind her. Spike was standing by the fountain, both weapons lying on the fountain wall as he lit a cigarette. Without a word he picked up both weapons, handed Willow the sword and walked away. Willow obediently followed.
They found the demon twenty minutes later and Spike would have rolled around on the ground with laughter if it wouldn't have been so undignified.
"Bloody hell!" he swore, shaking his head. "I can't believe the Slayer is such an idiot! Stupid bint."
"Hey! Don't call Buffy names. Why aren't we fighting the demons?" she asked.
"`Cause they're peaceful," Spike dropped the axe and lit another cigarette.
"What do you mean?" Willow asked in confusion.
"Peaceful," Spike repeated. "Don't like to fight."
"But, Buffy..."
"Well, sure, they'll fight if they're attacked, and do some damage defending themselves, I mean, look how big they are," Spike waved the cigarette at the demons.
"Peaceful?" Willow asked and Spike nodded. "Okay, then let's go let Buffy and Giles know...," she started to turn away, but Spike reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Not so fast, pet. I've been doing some thinking."
***
"Th-that's wonderful, Spike. Why don't we talk about it on the way back?" Willow nervously tried to pull her arm out of Spike's grasp. He tugged the sword out of unresisting fingers with his other hand, dropped it on the ground with the axe, then let go of her arm. Willow started to back away and Spike could smell her uncertainty mixed with a little bit of fear.
Spike took a step toward her. "Remember the other night," he took a long drag on the cigarette he held between two fingers, "when you asked me what I wanted?"
"Y-yes," Willow replied as she took another step back. "Y- you said I couldn't g-give you what you wanted," her voice was breathless with fear, her heart racing, her breath coming faster.
"Yeah. That's what I've been thinking about," Spike took another drag off of the cigarette, drawing the moment out.
Willow took another step back as she took a quick glance behind her. Shoot, one more step and she was going to run into a mausoleum. She turned her eyes back to Spike.
"I've decided," he continued, taking one last drag and pinching the cigarette between his fingers, "that maybe you *can* give me what I want," he ran his eyes hungrily over her body.
Willow automatically took another step back and felt the wall of the mausoleum at her back. "Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered.
"I want to touch you," he blew the smoke out as he took a step forward, "taste you, feel your legs wrapped around me as I pound into you."
"You're a *pig*, Spike!" Willow flew at him with her little fists flying, pounding at his face and chest. "A disgusting pig!"
Spike grabbed her wrists and pushed her back against the mausoleum. He pressed his body against hers and placed his hands to either side of her, effectively trapping her without hurting her.
"Let...me...go!" she flailed at him with tiny hands, pushing against him until she felt his erection pressing into her stomach. She froze. "Let me go," she said in a small voice.
"No," he put his face near her neck and breathed in her scent, then ran his tongue along her flesh, salty from her exertions. He pulled her skin into his mouth and closed blunt teeth on it. Willow's head jerked back and she almost cried out as she felt moisture at her core.
Damn him! She hated him...*hated* him! He was a liar, he was mean, he used them...oh, goddess, he made her so hot. She hated *herself*. She knew what he was, what he'd done to them, what he swore he'd do if he ever got the chip out, and she *still* wanted him. Every time she saw him her heart would do a little jump and her stomach would flutter, and then she'd remember who he was. She had to remember who...he...was, but it was getting so hard to think.
Spike smelled the heavenly scent of Willow's arousal. Bloody hell, he'd barely touched her, he thought. Then his lips were on hers, forcing them apart, exploring her mouth as his hand moved down to her thigh and slipped beneath her skirt.
He felt her moan as his fingers trailed up her inner thigh until he reached her knickers. He rubbed her through the thin barrier of cotton until his fingers were slick with her juices, kissing her breathless, only stopping when she needed to suck in air before claiming her lips again.
Suddenly Willow moved, placing her leg behind his and pushing on his chest. Spike tumbled backward onto the ground. Before he could recover Willow was on him, straddling his legs. Shaking fingers tugged at his button, undid his zipper.
"I hate you," she was saying. "You're mean...you lied...and you....you're mean..."
Spike only took a moment to wonder what in hell was going on before he lifted his hips to let her pull his jeans down. She scooted up his body and he reached under her skirt and ripped her knickers off.
"I hate you!" Willow repeated as she wrapped her fingers around him and positioned him at her entrance, then lowered herself onto him.
"Don't worry, luv, I hate you, *too*!" Spike's snarl turned into a moan as she covered him with her heat. Bloody...fucking...hell, he thought as his fingers closed over the round globes of her bum.
"I hate you," Willow repeated as she began to ride him, her fingers digging into his chest, "hate you." She grabbed his duster and pulled him up, moaning as the new position caused her to rub her clit against him every time she moved, before crushing her lips to his.
Spike reflexively squeezed her bum. He figured there'd be bruises tomorrow, but the chip didn't go off, so he couldn't be hurting her. Or else she liked it.
Willow's tongue explored his mouth angrily as she rode him. One hand held his head steady while the other slipped beneath his t- shirt to run over his stomach, his chest. Oh, goddess, she thought as her body began to tense, this was so much better than she'd dreamt.
Spike felt her body stiffen and knew she was ready for release. He quickly rolled them and began to pound into her. Willow wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed his shoulders. She cried out as her muscles clenched around him and Spike thrust once more before she took him screaming over the edge with her.
When Willow was once again able to focus she realized that Spike was still lying on top of her. "Get off of me," she nudged him.
"No," he lifted his chest, pressing his pelvis against her.
"Look, you got what you wanted," she said, "now get off of me!"
"I'd say you got what you wanted, too, witch," he said as he pushed her shirt up and pulled her bra down to expose her breasts.
"No!" Willow cried out. "Get off of me!" she bucked her hips in an attempt to dislodge him which resulted instead in her driving him deeply inside her. Oh, goddess, she thought, he was already hard again.
Spike smirked at her, his eyes holding hers as he began to move in her. He lowered his mouth to her breast and sucked in a nipple as he pumped into her hot, tight passage.
"Oh, goddess," Willow moaned. "I hate you," she repeated, not sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.
"Maybe," Spike said as he sped up, "but you love *this*." He thrust into her and Willow wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands pulled his head down to hers and she kissed him.
"I hate you," she moaned against his lips as she came again.
***
For the next couple of nights Willow managed to never be alone with Spike again, but her nerves were frayed from the tension. Three nights after they'd...after `the night'...Willow was once again alone in Giles' apartment. Xander and Anya had announced the night before that they would be unable to attend the research session and Willow had been afraid that Spike would show up and do something, but Giles and Buffy had left for patrol and no Spike. Willow had just begun to relax when the front door slammed open.
Spike smirked to himself as he heard her heart race, her breath quicken, her blood flowing through her veins, scented her fear, her arousal. He could have entered slowly, quietly, but he wanted the rush her surprise would give him.
"S-spike," Willow stood up from the table, "what, um, what do you want?" she backed away from him as he strode toward her.
Spike took his duster off and tossed it over a chair, "You know what I want, witch."
"N-no," she held her hand out in front of her as she backed away. "We're not doing that again. It, it's wrong."
"But it felt so *good*," Spike drawled as he stalked her.
"N-not really," Willow lied breathlessly and Spike laughed.
"I can smell you, witch," he reminded her, then dove and tackled her to the couch.
"No, no, no," Willow moaned as she pushed against his chest. Spike slid down her body until his knees hit the floor. He spread her legs with one hand and shoved her skirt up with the other, then froze.
"Hoping I'd show up, witch?" Spike finally asked.
"No," Willow denied, shaking her head, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.
"Then how come you're not wearing any knickers?" he smirked as Willow covered her face with both hands.
Spike buried his face between her thighs and Willow screamed at his touch, both hands moving to the back of his head, pressing him against her as he licked and sucked her. Willow bucked as he inserted a finger, his tongue laving her clit as he sucked on it.
It had been two days since he'd touched her, just *two days*, and she couldn't stand it anymore. He was right, she had been hoping he'd show up, just as much as she'd been hoping he wouldn't. It was bad enough before, when she wondered, but now she *knew*, knew what it felt like to have him touch her...and she craved it.
When the door had slammed open her heart had raced, partly in fear, `cause he always scared her, and partly in anticipation, anticipation that made her core weep.
"Spike," she moaned. "Oh, goddess, Spike!" her body tensed as she came and he drank his fill.
When Willow's muscles relaxed Spike pulled away from her and unfastened his jeans, pushing them down his hips. He lifted one knee to the couch, the other foot still touching the floor, and climbed between her open thighs.
"Look at me," he demanded and Willow opened heavy-lidded eyes. With his eyes locked on hers he rubbed himself along her wet slit, then positioned himself at her entrance and drove into her.
Oh, goddess, her eyes rolled back in her head as he pumped into her, her legs automatically wrapped themselves around his waist and her hands buried themselves in his hair. She pulled his head down to her and he kissed her, softly, then more insistently as his need built.
"Spike," she moaned as she felt her own need build, "Spike, please."
"Still hate me?" he asked as he shoved her leg up and thrust deeper into her.
"Yes," she moaned, "please.."
"But you love *this*," he stated as he rubbed her clit.
"*Ye-es*!" she cried out as she came, her muscles clamping down on him.
He buried his face in her neck, his face contorting in pleasure, his mind screaming her name as his own body tensed and he came inside her.
They lay there in the afterglow, silent, breathless, satisfied, both having gotten what they wanted, neither realizing how much they needed.
End