Lessons in Control
Chapter Eleven: Working Through the Anger to Find the Fear
"Red." He was getting testy. Forget about testy, he was downright pissed. "Red!"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't lose your pants, I'll be there in a minute." She'd heard it all before and it didn't phase her anymore. He'd wait. What else could he do?
He was a bloody master vampire! Why was he standing here - holding a jar with a fucking caterpillar in it - waiting for a tiny little human to get done hugging every demon in the place? Twice! Back to Cordelia. Three times for the cheerleader demon - great. They'd never get out of here and back to Sunnydale before dawn.
"Red!"
"Better get going, Sugarplum," Unca whispered in her ear as she hugged him and thanked him for the shopping trip once again.
"Oh, just ignore him," she murmured, rolling her eyes. "He's just a big poophead sometimes," she finished, laughing.
"He looks upset, Willow, you'd better go," Angel whispered in her ear, pushing her toward the front door and Spike. Louder he said, "I'll see you in a few weeks."
Just as they were walking out the door, Cordy made an observation to the room, "Well, looks like he's not so 'big' or 'bad' anymore. Willow's got him wrapped…," but Angel put his hand over her mouth and nodded toward the door, where Spike was standing looking back through the glass.
He hadn't had the urge to kill since before he'd gotten the chip out. And he'd promised Willow - drinking only, no killing. If he ever decided to break that vow, the cheerleader was first.
She could tell something was wrong, but he kept insisting he was 'fine' - in the most petulant voice she'd ever heard. He hadn't even turned on the radio. She was sure something was really wrong when he didn't want a cacophonous racket while he was driving. Fine, if he wanted to be that way, she'd just act like nothing was wrong as well.
She turned on the radio and took her time selecting a station. She finally settled on something she thought might have been Christina Aguilera, but since she wasn't a fan, she wasn't sure. But it was nauseating, which was what she was going for. She just wanted to do something to piss him off so he'd blow and tell her what was wrong. They'd been driving for almost an hour and the only words out of his mouth so far had been 'nothing' and 'fine'.
When Christina didn't get to him, she got really worried. But if he didn't want to talk, there was nothing she could do, right? Right.
Well, maybe…
She did an admirable job of faking a yawn and stretching. She stretched out on the front seat like she often did on the long drive to or from Sunnydale, resting her head on Spike's thigh. She closed her eyes and relaxed into him.
Well, this wasn't good. He wasn't even absentmindedly running his fingers through her hair like he always did when she slept on him. Whatever it was must be bad and he just wasn't ready to talk about it.
She lay there going over the day in her mind, trying to decide what had upset him. The fingers she rested under her cheek started tracing lazy designs into his thigh as she thought. She didn't do it on purpose, she just thought better if she was touching him. Everything was better when she was touching him. Her thoughts had gotten up to loading the shopping bags into the trunk when she felt his fingers in her hair. The light, easy strokes of someone who was deep in thought but felt better when he was touching her.
She relaxed for real and let her mind wander. Fortunately, when her mind wandered, so did her hands. Mostly because that was what her mind was wandering on. He didn't even seem to notice, even when she reached up under his shirt to caress the smooth skin above his jeans. She unbuttoned the top button of his jeans.
"Not now, Love," she thought she heard him say absently, but that was impossible, he never told her to stop. So she kept on as if she hadn't heard anything. Her tongue tickled the skin that was now exposed from behind the button. No response. She blew warm breath across the wet skin as she opened the next button of his jeans.
He must have slipped into a coma.
Her next lick brought a response even though it wasn't from his brain. She was hopeful now. She continued to unbutton, then lick, then blow soft warm breath across his cool skin until she had opened his fly completely and she knew there was no way he could ignore her now. The proof of it was bold as brass in front of her.
He still hadn't said anything, but she didn't care, she wasn't about to stop now. His first vocal recognition of her was his hiss as her tongue slid across the head of his cock. The point of her tongue finding the slit in the tip brought a small moan. When her warm hand took his sac and kneaded it, he let out a verbose, "Cor, Love." She felt positively giddy. This called for a celebration. She licked her lips and slid him completely into her mouth and throat. His hand tangled in her hair and latched onto the back of her head. She needed no further encouragement and she was smart enough to realize that he didn't want her to take her time.
She was very careful not to hit her head on the steering wheel as she quickly moved up and down on the velvety length of his phallus. She sucked him, she licked him, she flicked her tongue against the bundle of nerves under the ridge.
Every time a drop of pre-ejaculate would surface, she would lick it up like it was the finest delicacy because to her, it was. Each taste of him would make her moan and squirm, she could feel her panties and shorts soaking through.
Her enthusiasm was not unrewarded. It wasn't long before she felt his balls tighten and his body tense; her mouth suddenly filled with the milky salty essence of Spike.
As she was licking him clean, she heard his longest statement since they had begun driving him.
"Take your shorts off." She happily and quickly complied, ever thankful that he drove the ancient DeSoto with the huge front seat. Plenty of room to maneuver.
He started to pull off the road, but she insisted, "Drive." He didn't say anything and kept driving. She told him to move the seat back and was amazed when he reached for the latch and did as she said. 'He'd been so surly before, wonder what could have improved his mood' she thought but didn't say and giggled inwardly.
She slid her feet across to the driver's side floor and maneuvered herself as if she were going to sit in his lap, but as she sat, she slid her moist heat down around him. She used the handrest and the dash to gain the leverage needed to raise her body and then lower it.
He let out a loud groan and pulled to the shoulder of the road faster that she'd thought possible. "Turn around," he growled out through gritted teeth and when she did, he thrust up into her as if his unlife depended on it. Both of his hands grabbed hold of her head and pulled her in for a kiss that almost bruised her. She had to use a little force to push him away when she needed air, and she saw his eyes shining with something she hoped was intense passion. It was either that or anger.
He sounded angry as he stated, "I love you" and pulled her in for another bruising kiss.
They were desperate in their need to comfort each other in the only way that they could, given his mood. He seemed to need to prove something and she was going to allow him to get it out of his system in whatever way he felt was necessary, even if she couldn't walk tomorrow. Granted, it would be the happiest loss of movement in history.
His obsession and possessiveness were stirring feelings in her that she was sure every feminist on the planet would damn her to hell for. He wasn't having sex, he was claiming and consuming.
Every time he impaled her, he filled her with more than just his manhood. He was filling in the missing piece inside of her and he wanted her to know it. Didn't he know that she was already more than aware that he was everything she wasn't? Everything she needed to feel alive and whole?
When she needed air again, she pushed him away and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She was panting, needing oxygen before she got dizzy. She heard the angry, "I love you" again right before he sank his fangs into her neck and drank her into him.
'He's taking more than usual' was her last thought before her climax hit her hard and fast - sort of like a Mack truck. When she came down she felt his seed burst inside her womb and then he was licking the twin puncture marks on her throat.
She made no move to get off of him and his hands got gentle on her back, stroking her spine in a way that made her shiver.
He gave her an almost apologetic smile and rested his forehead against hers. "I love you so much it scares me," he whispered.
"I'm brave enough for the both of us," she whispered back.