Willow awoke the next day in their room. She wasn't quite sure when
it had become "their" room, but it was now. She sat up, looking around the
empty room, trying to find Spike, but he wasn't there. She knew the night
before had been hard for him. He'd insisted that she stay the night with
him, and though she protested, in the end she curled gratefully around his
body.
Willow couldn't believe what had happened yesterday, it didn't quite
feel real. She was no stranger to self-fulfillment--no teenage girl was--
but she'd never had a partner to help, never really ever imagined anyone
would want too. But Spike had, he'd shown her something so beyond her
scope that she found herself falling back into bouts of nostalgia to think
about the feel of his lips against her writs, or his fingers against her--
Where was, Spike?
Throwing off the covers, Willow hunched over as a flutter of cramps
found their way into her back. She stretched, hoping that would help, but
knowing in reality that it was pointless. Glancing at the clock, Willow
saw that it was far too early for Spike to be awake, only about three in
the afternoon.
Worried, but determined not to show it if possible, Willow went to
the bathroom to take a quick shower. She was trying her best to respect
Spike's wishes, and anything she could do to help was something she
absolutely had to do. She'd watched him suffer last night as they sat in
the library together. Every now and then, his game face would slip and
then he'd be off and into the back part of the library, gone for ten to
fifteen minutes before returning. She'd still been shy about the whole
thing, asking him softly if he wanted her to try showering again. He knew
then what he was doing to her, and he did indeed send her off for a shower,
but met her in the bedroom for an early day's sleep.
She remembered all this as she dried off, going back into the bedroom
to see if Spike had returned, he hadn't. Resigned to finding him, Willow
went to the closet and withdrew another one of Spike's silk shirts, closing
her eyes in remembered passion as the fabric caressed her skin, transfixed
by the smell of his cologne around the collar.
With bare feet, Willow left the bedroom and walked silently down the
long hallway, lit only occasionally by gas scones. She stopped before the
top of the stairs to admire a painting of an old looking stained glass
window. It took her a moment to justify a painting instead of the real
thing--no matter how beautiful it would have been, to a vampire it was one
more source of death.
She glided down the stairs, the soles of her feet sinking deeply into
the plush carpet.
Willow began with the library, but after finding no sign of Spike,
tried his study before moving down the final flight of stairs. In the
entranceway, she tried to figure out where to begin. She could search the
kitchens, but Spike would never expect her to be up this early, so
breakfast wouldn't be on his mind. The ballroom was a likely choice, but
something seemed strange about that, as if it just wasn't a place for him
to go. Spike would have wanted to surround himself with something, to take
comfort in feeling completely encased without really being trapped.
Then suddenly, she knew where he was.
Her ankle cracked on the last step, sounding an echo throughout the
marble entranceway. She resisted a giggle, and instead resumed her silent
walk down the hallway and to the left.
Steam rose and collected on the glass walls of the built in
conservatory. Through the glass, Willow could see the dozens of plant
varieties that grew in the greenhouse. Absently, she noted that the set of
mirrors that drew sunlight from outside were down, leaving the room in
darkness. Without stopping to consider the flowers any further, Willow
opened the door and stepped inside.
The air was thick with humidity, and her skin felt damp and muggy
against the silk shirt, but the heat was good for her back, and she
stretched languidly, her hands raising above her head in relief.
A thin stone path cut between the plant life, and Willow knew a small
pond containing goldfish was in the center were a small fountain stood.
She walked that way, mindful of the stones beneath her naked feet. A few
branches of a broad leafed plant hung in her way across the path, and
Willow gently pushed them aside to reveal the fountain, and the hunched
form of Spike.
He was seated on one of the benches, his back hunched over his knees
as his face rested in the palms of his hands. He was dressed in a black
silk shirt and a pair of tan pants that were in a style a century old; but
his feet were bare, and his hair looked tousled from his restless night's
sleep. He looked innocent like that, nothing like the killer she knew him
to be, and she knew why, knew he was fighting his demon even now,
struggling with the feel and scent of her on the very air she stood in.
Silently she cursed herself, how could she have come here, it was
likely the only place that wasn't permeated with this scent that drove male
vampires insane. Spike was probably looking for a few minutes peace, and
here she was, disrupting even this solitude.
Those thoughts lasted for about ten seconds. In their wake was a
series of thoughts so much more powerful than the last. She belonged here!
She belonged next to him, with him, no matter what state her body was in.
He had no right to push her away, to try and hide from her. This was not
his burden to bear, it was theirs, together, and more than that, it was a
burden neither had to bear.
Spike had wanted to spare her modesty, to give her time to adjust to
the things that had happened to her and the things she'd learned. Yes
she'd tried to have Spike kill her, yes she'd tried to hurt herself to stop
the pain, yes she'd done it twice, yes she'd revealed a secret that even
now haunted her memory; but she was not weak, not anymore. His love and
kindness had made her stronger. His desire for her had strengthened her
will to live, for as long as he let her, until Spike joined them together
in eternity. She knew the whole of her life had been bringing her to this
point, this very moment; and she knew, exactly, what she wanted.
Unconsciously, her shoulders squared, her back strengthening, as she
walked slowly towards the hunched figure on the bench. Spike didn't look
up as she approached, and it was with a mental slap on the forehead and a
congratulatory slap on the back that she realized she was wearing only the
black shirt, and not a damn thing else.
Willow could easily see him struggling to control himself. His body
was tense, his muscles shaking slightly from the effort to maintain
control. Spike had told her last night that the second day was always the
worst, the third just slightly better. To think of him as suffering even
more than he had yesterday, it was more than Willow was willing to stand.
Her delicate fingers came up to just barely touch the outside of his
hand, and his face shot up instantly, his eyes golden in the misty light.
"I woke up and you weren't there. What happened?" She watched him
struggle with the demon, saw the ridges of his face flicker across his
features, his eyes dilating as she moved her fingers to touch firmly to his
cheek.
He tried to turn away from her, tried to hide the struggle raging
inside his body; Willow only opened her palm to lay against his cheek,
keeping him in place. "What happened?"
A smile that could only be considered painful fell across Spike's
face, and Willow could see the beads of sweat from his struggles forming on
his brow. "Nothing, Pet. Everything's fine. W-why don't you run upstairs
and get ready for the day." He gulped, she saw the apple of his throat
move in response to his suffering. "You know, grab a shower and throw
some…more clothes on." He was failing and he knew it, worse, he knew she
knew it as well.
Spike was hurting, he was in pain, and so was she; this had to stop
now.
Her hands came up to cradle his face, her fingers brushing against
his cheekbones, the pads of her thumbs caressing his eyelids. Slowly,
softly, she worked her hands over his face, smoothing back his hair,
touching him while he was too enthralled to protest.
Enthralled he was. Spikes eyes were already golden, but a dull look
of distance was in them, and it took Willow a moment to realize it was an
almost drug like pleasure.
Empowered by her own dedication, and the sudden look in Spike's eyes,
Willow took a step forward, felt Spike spread his knees to accommodate her
legs, felt his firm fingers digging almost instantly into her hips.
As she looked into his eyes, she could see the war behind the golden
spheres. Spike was fighting to remain in control. She had no desire for
him to ever lose control, in fact the very idea frightened her. Willow
knew Spike would have to be thinking, but now was still the time to get him
off balance.
Bending at the knees, Willow pushed her body forward until the peaks
of her breasts were pushed forcefully against Spike, the force seeming to
push him backwards on the bench. Her mouth hovered only inches from his
lips as she spoke. "I just took a shower not five minutes ago. This thing
you're trying to do, Spike, it isn't going to work, and I don't want it to.
I am yours, I have been since the moment you saw me in that park. I'm not
doing this because I owe you anything; it's your job to take care of me,
you promised me you would. But that goes both ways, Spike. This is
something I can do for you, let me do this for you, for us. I can't stand
to see you like this." Then with as much speed and force as she could,
Willow kissed him, crushing her mouth to his in an act that could only be
considered brutal and demanding.
It was enough. With a growl so loud it rumbled past Willow's own
chest pressed against Spike's, the vampire's grip about her hips shifted
and he was slamming her body against his, pulling her into his body as far
as physicality would allow. His grip was almost punishing, hurting her for
making him want her so much, for making him do this, but she tempered it
with the soft caresses of her hands against his back, along the ridges of
his face. His hands wound into her hair, forcing her head back with a
strong tug that hurt far worse than she let on. Fangs grazed her neck but
did not puncture, while his skilled tongue soothed the angry scratches left
behind.
The heady mixture of pain and pleasure had Willow panting, and her
hands became useless except as anchors to the tense biceps of her captor
and soon to be lover. Spike's growls became lower, the sound more of a
vibration than an actual tone. His mouth found her breast, and Willow
moaned loudly at his skill. A sharp sting caught her attention, and she
cried out as his fangs punctured her nipple, the warm feeling of pooling
blood causing Willow's world to dim for a moment.
And then, it was as if she were his mother, only in a near reverse.
Spike's arms flashed under her legs, and before she knew what was happening
she was laying across his lap, his hand supporting her as his head bent
over to suckle from her dripping breast. And the sensation, the erotic,
sensual, sensation of a full grown man doing this to her, drawing life from
her in this way, had her crying out as the beautiful tension filled her
lower body, making her arch into his mouth.
With every pull on her breast, with every caress of his tongue to
stimulate the blood to flow, Willow felt the crest of absolute fulfillment
rise in her, until she was begging with body and voice for release, calling
his name over and over in some plea for mercy. She wanted him, needed him,
there was no denying it, no point in pushing it aside for later, it was
now, the present, this very moment; and Spike obliged.
Again his cool fingers--warmer now for the blood he'd taken from her--
stole under the tails of her borrowed silk. With skilled ease he found
what she needed, and with one final pull on her breast, and a firm caress
of his fingers, she was complete. She screamed, the sound vibrating
throughout the glass room, shaking the windows and disturbing the plant
life. The sound was soul deep and powerful, filled with satisfaction that
comes only from the deepest fulfillment. Exhausted tears drifted slowly
from her eyes as Spike's mouth continued its assault, and his fingers
returned to haunt her just as she thought her body had achieved blissful
peace.
Trembling against him, Willow used all her remaining strength to wrap
her arms about his neck, to pull him even more firmly against her so that
this contact, this sweet, sweet torture would not end. Her fingers wound
idly into his short hair, until Spike's fingers made her forget what they'd
been doing.
How long this continued, Willow did not know. She was sated and well
loved, feeling warm and languid now as Spike's fingers were less of an
instrument to her insanity and more a comfort which she spread her knees
wide to welcome. His mouth continued to work her body, and she sighed at
this feeling, this blissful feeling of completeness with a vampire, with a
man.
Eventually, she knew things had to stop, and it was with her deepest
regret that she spoke softly to him, her fingers working lightly at the
back of his neck. "Spike, oh Spike, you have to stop now. There's more
but you have to stop this now."
Slowly, over the course of nearly ten minutes, Spike worked his way
back to her, fighting his demon for control as he lifted his head, his
tongue licking the slight tinge of blood off his lips. Willow didn't look
down at herself. Spike had never even removed her shirt and she knew if
she looked the shock of her blood soaked chest might manage to send her
into a light panic.
Instead she focused on Spike's eyes, and when the look of near
desperate guilt came into them, she spoke again. "I'm ready to finish
this, and I want you to stop feeling guilty right now. I knew what I was
doing, knew that something like this would happen. I won't say that I'm
not scared, I won't lie to you, but you need this, we need this. I'm no
expert on vampire bonds, but I understand how powerful blood is to you, I
accept that about you, and I accept that about my future self as well. I
trust you to stay in control now, as a Master, as my future mate, to keep
from turning me. I trust you to keep all your promises to me. I love you,
and I want to give this gift to you." Leaning forward, Willow kissed him,
her tongue tasting her own blood on his lips--the taste did not disgust her
as it once might have.
Spike was breathing hard, forcing air into long dead lungs out of
some deeply engrained directive. "Willow…you don't know what you're
asking."
Suddenly, firm hands wrapped about Spike's face, forcing him to look
into the dilated ones of his desire. "I know exactly what I'm asking, and
you know exactly what I'm giving. If you can't do it for yourself, then do
it for me, do it because I can't stand to see you like this." And she
kissed him again, throwing all of her desperation into the touch of her
lips.
It was the last bit of resistance Spike had left. On legs coursing
with the power of virgin blood, Spike stood and lifted Willow with him,
barely taking his eyes from hers as he navigated his way out of the
conservatory and up the wide stairs to the second floor.
He swept them both into his study by the library, placing Willow on
top of the desk and kissing her passionately, before pulling away and
nearly ripping a painting from the wall. Behind the frame stood a wall
safe, and with only a few turns, Spike had it opened. His fingers were
nibble, and in seconds he had what he needed tucked into his shirt pocket
before going back to the table to collect Willow.
She kissed the column of his neck on the way up the last stairs,
adding her own marks in the form of light bruises that in some way made her
feel as if he now belonged completely to her. She never saw him shut off
the gas to the lights, never even noticed when they fell into complete
darkness. All that mattered, all she needed was here in her arms, the rest
of the world could disappear and she'd never know nor care.
Once in the master bedroom, Spike shut and locked the door. He
walked to the bathroom door and set her on her feet. His instructions were
crystal clear. "Take it out and get rid of the shirt." Nearly vibrating
with need, Willow moved to the toilet and pulled haphazardly on the string
before flushing and ripping the shirt off, tearing the fabric in her haste.
And then she was back, his arms wrapping around her again to lift her
into the air. He moved to the bed, crawling on his knees across it until
he could place her in the middle of its wide expanse.
She fought every instinct she had not to cover her body, not to shake
with fear instead of need. But ever the vigilant lover, Spike noticed, and
calmed himself down to caress her body softly in preparation. When he
spoke it was to ease her fears.
"In a few moment's I’m going to take your arm and tie a tourniquet
around it, here. I'll tap the inside of your elbow to raise a vein. I
told you, this process is considered painful, but a heavy dose of morphine
should take care of most of it. Once the drugs take, I'll roll you to your
side and then puncture a set of nerves at your lower back where I showed
you last night. It'll take a little while, but you'll know when it starts
working. Then I'll drink from you, and I swear it to you, my Red Queen,
you will only feel pleasure." Leaning forward he kissed her soundly,
caressing her stomach as the chill of fear crept into her bones. "I love
you, Willow."
"I-I love you too, Spike."
The tourniquet was placed then, and Willow watched in fascination as
Spike plunged the needle into the stopper, extracting an exact amount of
clear liquid.
"H-how do you know how much to give me?"
He smiled, a slow soft smile. "Angelus used to be an addict,
completely dependent on the stuff during the last two decades of the
nineteenth century. He had a bitch of a time kicking it." He licked the
inside of her elbow before gently and painlessly inserting the needle and
delivering the drug.
Willow had never in her life done drugs before and she said as much.
Spike chuckled as he slipped the needle from her arm and released the
tourniquet. "You're not missing much. Angelus was a bigger poof than he
was as Angel when he was high. Used to wear the dumbest things you've ever
seen; put on one of Dru's corsets once and walked around the house scaring
the servants."
"How di-did he kick the habit?" She asked, her limbs still shaking.
Spike hesitated, his eyes going dark for a moment. "I locked him in
the cellar for two months. For two months he fed from me and me alone, and
for two months he took out his rage on me. It was alright though, worth it
in the end to have him back." Suddenly Spike's lips closed, as if he'd
said more than he wanted to ever say again. "Not important, Luv. Tell me
when the world goes a little topsy-turvy on you."
She could tell he was more in control. His eyes had remained a clear
blue since she'd returned from the bathroom, and she thought her blood
already in his veins must have helped with that at least a little.
Willow didn't notice the first hit of the drug to her system, but
Spike knew it from her next statement.
"I'm scared."
Sitting back, Spike brushed a few stray hairs from Willow's check.
"It's alright to be scared, it's a scary thing. I doubt you'll feel so
scared in a few minutes, but until then, just try to relax. I love you.
You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, both inside and out." He
lifted her hand, kissing her palm until she sighed, her eyes rolling
slightly up as the drug now slammed home to her system.
He allowed her to bask in the high for a moment, knowing that with
the pain she'd be only slightly buzzed. He'd purposefully given her a bit
too much, but she'd be fine in the morning.
Spike couldn't express in words what this gift meant to him. It was
an act of trust so final from Willow, that he knew that after this there
would be no more retreats to childhood. Come tomorrow night, she'd be
completely woman, his woman, and he couldn't prevent the growl of
possessiveness he gave off at the thought.
He was startled a bit when she giggled. "You're all, grrrrrr!
You're so cute when you do that." Willow giggled again.
Leaning down, Spike kissed her softly. "Ok, Willow, I want you to
roll to your side now, you'll be alright, I'll make sure you don't roll off
the bed." She giggled again, but rolled to her left as he gently
positioned her to curve the lower part of her back. "Now hold really,
still, Luvie. This is going to hurt, but I want you to breath through it,
I promise I'll make it up to you."
"OK, Spikey!"
Cringing at the nickname, but entrance with her playful behavior,
Spike fell into game face and allowed his demon to assume control. With
minimal difficulty he found the small bundle of nerves by her bottom three
vertebra. The ancient Chinese long knew of a similar trick using
acupuncture, this was only slightly more barbaric.
Not stopping to warn her further, he struck. Lightening fast, his
left fang punctured the ridge of her spin and he listened in a grip of
sympathy, to the sound of Willow crying out in pain. His right hand held
her hips still while his left kept her from scooting away while his own
fluids pumped into her system.
When the sound of Willow's tears were more than he could stand, he
withdrew, slicing his tongue to stop the blood, then licking it way to
disinfect.
"There now, Luvie. You were so brave. I'm so proud of you." She
sniffled as he gently rolled her onto her back. "I'm so sorry I had to
hurt you, Willow, but I promise, in just a minute I'll make you forget all
about it, I promise. Don't I keep all my promises?" He watched her nod
tearfully. "Good girl. That's my girl," and he gently brushed the tears
aside.
He watched her silently then, saw her eyes drift in the throws of a
first time fix. She moaned soundlessly, a mixture of fear and the still
desperate hum of her body's need for his. Gloriously naked before him,
Spike had the first real opportunity to examine his prize with the critical
eye of a painter.
Long straight hair the color of first drawn blood fanned out around a
pixyish face with wide green eyes. Her lips were kissable, neither overly
full nor too thin. The column of her neck was long and lean, meeting with
visible collar bones that only enhanced the beauty of her perfectly shaped
pert breasts. Her stomach was nearly flat, and on her back, she seemed
even more thin than usual. Wide hips completed an hourglass figure that
was at once alluring to a man born in the eighteenth century. Long thin
legs tapered to delicate feet that seemed almost a little too small to
support her five foot five inch figure. In a word, Willow was perfect.
But there was the briefest in draw of breath, and Spike watched the
first signs of discomfort flitter across Willow's features. Instantly he
bent to comfort her. "Everything's fine, Luvie. You're doing wonderfully.
Turn your head now, that's it. I want you watch the fire for a little
while. Just focus on it like you told me you do when you pray to the
Goddess. Keep your eyes focused right there, Willow. Your hands, your
arms, legs, they can do whatever you want, whatever they need to, but I
want you to keep your eyes right there. Will you do that for me, Willow?
Will you look right there for me?"
From this angle above her, he could see the firelight dancing in the
green depths of her eyes. Hesitantly, she nodded her head, the discomfort
clearing some of the Morphine haze. One frightened hand reached for his
blindly, and he took it, squeezing before laying it to rest across her
stomach.
"If you ever want me to stop, Willow, just say, 'stop', and I will, I
promise you. I'm going to take care of you. I love you…so much."
"I love you too, Spike, I love you too."
Doing his best not to startle her, Spike slid his right hand from the
mattress onto her left hip and across her stomach to her right side. With
both hands on her hips, he moved, careful to go slowly so that she could
sense his movements before he arrived. She jumped as he set his right knee
on top of her two locked one, his need understood from the slight pressure
he placed there. He watched her body quake once before her knees slowly
unlocked, and with gentle insistence, he put his own knee between hers.
His blood warmed hands glided down over Willow's hips, over her
thighs before gently cupping her knees, slowly pulling them further apart
as she continued to quake, her breathing desperate.
He wanted to sooth her, to comfort the fear she was feeling at her
first true intimate act, but the separation of her legs brought the
overwhelming scent of blood to him, and it was all he could do to keep from
ravaging her.
Mindful of his own instantaneous erection, Spike lowered his body
closer to the bed, so that his hands were once again resting on Willow's
hips. With a gentle nudge and a lifting from her seat, she was open to
him, the natural curve of her body acting like a waiting saucer, refilling
with every contraction of her body.
It was more than he could stand. His face shifted completely, his
demon demanding he take her now, make her his in every way a vampire could
claim a female. It was a call of his nature, and one he could not resist.
With a slow and savoring swipe, he tasted the essence of his Queen and did
not stop until there was nothing more to take.
