Lessons in Control
Chapter Twelve: The Anniversary Gift
"That is Willow, right?" Xander was staring in open-mouthed astonishment at the couple dancing on the dance floor of the Bronze. Well, dancing was an overstatement. A gross overstatement.
"What's she wearing?" Buffy asked the table at large, her eyes never leaving the couple who were barely moving. "Game of Love" by Michelle Branch and Santana was playing, and while it was one of Buffy's favorite songs, she didn't even hear it.
Dawn was fascinated, "It's a dress, sort of. I think."
It was a dress, sort of. It was two deep rust-coloured pieces of dress-shaped material, the exact same shade as Willow's hair. One arm was sleeveless, while the other was completely covered, sort of. The two pieces of the mini dress were being held together by lengths of gold chain, each about two inches long. The chain allowed for a long expanse of completely exposed skin that ran the length of the dress, making it perfectly clear, from a side-view, that Willow was wearing absolutely nothing under that dress. The chain was fastened at intervals to hold the dress together down both sides and up the sleeve.
If you could make your eyes travel farther down, which all of them except Dawn were having a hard time doing, she was also wearing rust stiletto heels with gold chains hanging in scallops across the back of the heel. Lorne had picked out the entire outfit, when she had expressed an interest in finding something 'special' for their anniversary. But the Sunnydale gang didn't know that. None of them seemed to notice the black leather band around her throat either.
"That's not dancing," observed Anya, also engrossed in the couple. "That's vertical orgasms."
"Ahn!" Xander yelled, holding his hands over Dawn's ears. The teenager swatted him away.
"What?" Anya asked, "It's true. They're not dancing, they're grinding their sex organs against each other in what looks to be a very stimulating and highly enjoyable manner. Wanna dance, Xander?" she asked, hopefully.
Her boyfriend didn't hear her.
The couple in question had no idea they were being discussed. Oh, Spike could have heard them if he'd been paying attention. Even though the club was crowded, he could pick up everything that was said, even in the office behind the bar. But his concentration was centered on the woman in his arms. He couldn't believe she'd worn this dress.
They'd been home from LA for three weeks and Willow had stalwartly refused to wear anything she now termed 'Lorne's clothes'. He had begged and pleaded but she hadn't given in. She'd promised to wear them they next time they went clubbing in LA, but it was all a no-go for Sunnydale.
Until tonight. Tonight was their one-year anniversary. One year ago tonight, he'd lured her to his crypt to determine her feelings for him and they'd been inseparable ever since. And she had decided to wear this dress for him. He didn't know she'd planned it all along.
He had cheated, of course, hoping she'd give in on the new clothes. Just a little, but in the nicest ways.
Willow had woken up a little after noon to a bed full of yellow rose petals. Yellow roses were her favorite. The room itself was filled with every other kind of flower he could get at the local florist and he'd had a hell of a time getting them all in their room without waking Willow. The bleedin' delivery guy had rung the doorbell, for one thing.
Luckily, Spike had enlisted Dawn's help. She ran back and forth to the van with the delivery guy, carting all the vases of luscious blossoms into the house. Spike had then had the duty to slip them quietly into their room, not a difficult task for one with over a century of practice in vampire stealth. Spreading the yellow petals was harder, but he'd managed it.
While he was doing that, Dawn set up what she called their 'brunch' whatever that was.
Joyce had pitched in by baking an assortment of fruit filled muffins and scones, the latter being something Spike had missed but would not admit to even upon threat of holy water and crosses. Spike had nicked some of Giles' imported English tea, the kind Willow liked that you couldn't buy here in the colonies.
Spike took a red rose from one of the bouquets in the bedroom and put it on her plate. Okay, it had been Dawn's idea, but he had done the actual taking and placing.
He had gone to Joyce two weeks ago, when he was sure Slutty was out patrolling, and asked her advice on what Willow might like for their anniversary. Dawn had happily chimed in with suggestions of her own and when he couldn't decide which Willow would like, he'd decided to do all of them.
Hence, the flowers, the rose petals, the brunch, the china place settings, the linen napkins, the book of poetry that was wrapped and hidden in the kitchen, the sexy-but-not-sleazy lingerie that was wrapped and hidden in the bedroom, the cd of music made especially for the occasion by Dawn, and the secret present he'd thought of all by himself that was not wrapped but hidden in the trunk of his car.
When everything was set and the 'brunch' was being kept warm in the oven, Spike had slipped back up into bed and made 'waking up' movements and noises meant for the sole purpose of waking Willow.
It had all worked like a charm, and even when he'd admitted that two of the Summers women had helped him, she was still just as impressed. She'd even shed a couple of tears and he couldn't figure out for the unlife of him what that was all about, but she'd insisted it was good crying, so he'd been pleased.
She'd insisted that he go out at sunset to feed, even though he hadn't wanted to leave her, but she'd insisted - demanded actually.
When he'd arrived back home, he'd found her dressed exactly as she was now, dancing with him in the Bronze. She'd even gone so far as to apply the makeup he had bought for her, in the model-perfect way that the salesgirl had shown her. She even made a fuss with her hair, curling it in loose ringlets and pulling it up in a mussy-but-sexy fashion, designed to draw emphasis to the only piece of jewelry she was wearing, her collar.
Spike had been dead tempted to stay at home and fuck her silly in every position he could think of, in every room in the house including the basement and then pulling her out on the back lawn and starting all over again.
But then he decided to stick with the plan and go out to dinner followed by dancing at Sunnyhell's one and only club.
After their 'discussion' in the car on the way back from LA, they'd gone home and he'd confided to Willow what Cordelia had said and why he'd felt the need to do what he did in the car. He'd apologized - profusely.
She'd refused to accept his apology, alleging that if that's he the way he felt was the best way to soothe his temper, by all means that's what he should do and then she offered to have Xander piss him off a couple of times a week just to make sure he kept in practice for times when he was really mad.
He smiled, but it hadn't reached his eyes and she saw it. She'd spent a lot of time since then rebuilding his ego and every time she did he thanked the PTBs for sending this girl to him. Or him to this girl, whichever way they'd decided to do it, he didn't care, as long as she was his.
When he'd seen her tonight, after the first initial physical response, he'd decided to take her out and show every soddin' person in this town that she was his. And vice versa. He wanted them all to fall down and weep at what they'd missed out on. He'd known that she'd been overlooked and pushed aside by almost everybody in this town, even her so-called friends. Tonight she was everything every woman should aspire to be and he planned to make Sunnyhell sit up and pay attention.
They were. Some parts of the male population especially, were sitting up at more than just attention. He felt their looks, heard their gasps, registered their whispers enough to know that nobody would ever overlook Willow again and then he put all his concentration on her and left the rest of them to stew.
They went right to the dance floor as soon as they got there, they hadn't even seen the Scoobies, although Spike had heard them when the gang had first noticed he and Willow dancing, then he had promptly tuned them out just he had everyone else in the club. He had better things to think about.
She'd never danced with him like this before. For the first time ever, she wasn't self-conscious, she wasn't worried about what everyone else would think. She was there just for him, his own private dancer. She let the rhythm guide her, swaying her hips into his and he followed her movements until they were grinding together in a slow beat that was only theirs. His hands slid down her sides, absorbing every bit of heat from her exposed flesh, he slipped his fingers under the chains and then inside the back of the dress. Everywhere he touched was hotter than the last bit. He felt a bead of sweat drip down her back and land on one of the fingers he had slid under the stretchy fabric of the dress.
"Love, let's go home."
She smiled at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking of, which she probably did. "You don't want to dance with me anymore?" she asked from behind seductive auburn lashes as she caressed the back of his neck.
He felt his mouth and throat go dry. "If we don't leave now, I'm not going to make it home and you know it, you little vixen," he said in a voice suddenly lower than it had been a minute ago.
"We don't have to wait 'til we get home," she teased, nodding toward the back door that led to the alley.
He stepped back and took a breath. When he still wasn't under control, he pulled out his cigarettes and took his time lighting one. When the lighter had clicked shut and been returned to his pocket, he spoke.
"As tempted as I am," he said, nodding in the direction of the alley, "You deserve so much better, baby 'specially tonight. And I'm gonna do so right by you, I promise, but I've got to get you home to do it."
She smiled and he wrapped his arm around her neck, kissing her with all the pent-up passion he felt. The couple didn't even notice that the club had gone uncharacteristically quiet as they left.
"Earth to Buffy, come in Buffy." Dawn snapped her fingers in front of her sister's face but got no reaction. She shrugged in Anya's direction.
"Xander's still catatonic and Tara hasn't blinked since Willow and Spike first walked in the club. Wanna come to the ladies room with me?"
"Sure. Nuthin' else to do until the three stooges wake up." Dawn shrugged and followed Anya to the Bronze's less than glamorous rest rooms.
"Why do you suppose they're acting so strange?" the teenager asked the thousand plus year old former demon, hoping she could shed some light on why her sister and friends had come down with a bad case of apoplectic behavior.
"Well, I'm not sure about Buffy, but its probably the same reason as Xander, sort of."
"So? What's up with Xander?"
"They see Willow as she was when she was fourteen - a sexless little nothing useful for helping with homework and companionship if no one was on their sexual radar."
"Hey! I'm sixteen! That's only two more than fourteen. I'm not a nothing!"
"I know, Dawnie. And Willow probably wasn't either. But they didn't see that. And you're very different than Willow was. You've known about vampires and demons for most of your life. Your sister's the slayer, you know what goes bump in the night, you've matured faster than most girls of that age. But Willow grew up in Sunnydale, the Land of Oblivion, where deaths and disappearances were overlooked and ignored. That stupid demon ex-mayor had a PR machine working overtime promoting this town as the perfect little world where peace and harmony reigned over all."
"What's that got to do with Willow?"
"I'm getting to that. Willow was a shy, mousy, bookish fourteen year old who hid behind her books and her clothes. She did such a good job that even her closest friends stopped looking at her as a girl who feels girly things, and it carried over into her being a woman who they forgot feels womanly things."
"But Spike saw past that," Dawn offered as a counterpoint.
"True, but Spike's special. Even an ex-demon very much in love with a human man-child can see that."
"So that explains my sister and Xander. What's wrong with Tara?"
"I think Tara has a crush."
"On who?" Dawn asked eagerly. Willow wouldn't like it if Tara had a crush on Spike. Being Willow, she'd be understanding, but she definitely wouldn't be happy about it.
"Both of them," Anya said as she threw her paper towel into the trashcan and walked back into the noise of the club. On the way back to the table she stopped at the bar and ordered five glasses of ice water.
"You must be really thirsty." the teen stated.
"Well, two of them, you and I are going to drink."
"The rest?"
Anya smiled, "It's wake up time."
Spike stopped Willow before he unlocked the front door. "Put this on, Willow." He held out an emerald velvet blindfold. He heard her heartbeat speed up as she turned around to allow him to fasten it behind her head.
He loved that she enjoyed this game. It had been her decision to wear the collar tonight. Usually they talked about it first or it was asked if one of them was in the mood for it. But for her to wear it tonight - their anniversary - without even asking him, meant more than he cared to contemplate. It meant that she trusted him. It meant that she was willing to give herself to him. It meant that she was his, would always be his, and just his. He'd never had anything that was just his before. He'd never had anyone love him back as much as he loved them. It was making him a little light-headed.
"Hold still, Love, be right back."
She heard his footsteps walk away and then she heard creaking and then what sounded like the trunk on the car being closed quietly - or as quietly as was possible on that old - sorry "classic" - car.
She heard the key in the lock and he led her into the house with a hand under her arm. She was led up the stairs and into their bedroom. She just hoped her gift was in place. Anya had promised it would be.
"Red, what?!" he asked and she answered, "Surprise. Do you like it?"
Spike looked longingly at the king-sized bed. "Oh, yeah, baby. I love it. Let me show you how much." She could hear the smile in his voice. She could almost hear all the wickedly sexual thoughts running through his head.
He was determined to do this right, even if it killed him - again - and right now he thought it just might. Maybe a small change in plans then.
He pulled the stretchy lycra dress down off her shoulder, pulling her arm out as he went. His hands ran down her body, "Have to take it off going down instead of up," he said in a breathy whisper at her ear, "Don't want to mess up all that beautiful hair." He fingered one of the ringlets, "Like fire you can touch."
She felt him walk away and heard a click as he said, "I hope you like this. Dawn made it." The first sweet notes of "Don't Want to Miss A Thing" by Aerosmith came through the speakers. She smiled; Dawn knew this was one of her favorites.
He returned to removing her dress, hooking his thumbs under the stretchy fabric as his hands slowly moved down her body, conforming themselves to every contour and making all of her nerve endings tingle. When it finally fell to her feet, she kicked it off, knowing she was standing before him now wearing nothing but a green velvet blindfold, a pair of high heels and a leather submissive's collar.
He took her hand and led her over to the bed. She heard a rustling of sheets before he helped her to sit down. "Sit up against the headboard, Willow," he told her and she sat back into a cloud of pillows at her back.
The next song started and Spike chuckled softly as Dave Matthews Band's "Crash Into Me" started. "A boy's dream" he said under his breath and Willow wasn't sure if he was talking to her or not.
He looked at her sitting there, legs out straight in front of her, hands clasped in her lap and he wanted to pull the blindfold off and remove the collar and let them both spend the rest of the night in a tug of war for dominance while making love. But he didn't. He reminded himself that he wasn't stupid and this was something to be savoured. His Willow, naked before him, willing to do anything he asked. He unbuttoned and unzipped his fly out of necessity, but he didn't take his jeans off.
He pulled the vanity stool to the end of the bed and sat gazing at her until she began to feel self-conscious and wrapped her arms over her chest.
"Put your arms down." She did.
"Spread your legs." She did, giving him an up close and personal view of her freshly shaved pussy. He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head.
"I want you to be wet for me," he told her, never taking his eyes from the soft folds between her legs. When she didn't move he softly ordered her, "Touch yourself for me."
Her tentative hands started at her neck, one on each side and moving downward. She let her head fall back and imagined in her mind what was going on in the room.
Her beautiful blond vampire, sitting near the end of the bed, watching her, wanting her. It amazed her that he could feel this way. He was so perfect physically that she didn't understand what he would want with her. He could have anyone - ANYONE - that he wanted on the entire planet. Why wasn't he chasing after supermodels or porn stars? Why was he here in Sunnydale with a nobody like her?
She put her thoughts on hold when she heard him gulp; her fingers had reached her breasts and her index fingers were circling her areolas. She pinched her nipples between her fingers and felt heat and moisture rise between her thighs.
While her left hand stayed to continue to tease her own nipples, her right hand made a slow descent toward her abdomen. She bent her knees and pulled her legs up. She spread her knees apart, opening herself up to his eyes and her fingers.
She smiled as "The Most Beautiful Girl In The World" by New Power Generation started. She'd have to thank Dawn tomorrow. The song helped her to drown in her performance for Spike, her body now moving in time to the rhythm of the song as she ran her fingers through her wet folds. She ran her fingers down as far as she could reach, lifting her hips to touch the tight opening to her anus. She knew this was one of Spike's favorite places to be, heck, she liked him there just as much as he did.
As her fingers kept up their exploration, she imagined what Spike might be thinking as he was watching her. Was she doing this right? Was she pleasing him? If she was, she hoped he wasn't just sitting there. She imagined him getting hard and as drops of pre-cum weeped out, his hand would move to grab it and use it as lubricant to bring himself pleasure.
She imagined his hand glistening as it ran down the length of his cock. In her mind's eye, she saw him with a straining erection, one brought on just by watching her. She saw the muscles in his face and neck get tight as he pumped himself, never taking his eyes from her body.
As she brought herself closer to orgasm, she imagined Spike doing the same. Her imagination watched Spike get bigger and harder, pearly white drops appearing at the slit at the top of his cock's engorged head and she wanted to reach out and taste him.
Since this option wasn't available to her just now, she did the next best thing, she pulled the two fingers that she was using to fuck herself out and brought them up to her mouth. She held them above her mouth as her tongue reached up, catching the drops that were about to fall.
She heard a tormented groan come from her lover, so she slipped the two wet fingers into her mouth and sucked.
"Bloody hell, Willow!" came almost screaming from his lips and she felt warm fluid splatter on her leg: first her ankle, then closer to her knee and finally a large plop on her thigh. She smiled in a new-found satisfaction. She didn't know why, but she was inordinately proud of herself for some reason. Well, come to think of it, she did know why.
She heard him moving. He gently took one wrist and fastened a fabric-covered handcuff around it. Her other wrist moved up to join the other; Spike chuckled, "It's no fun if I'm not forcing you against your will." She quickly pulled her arm back down, but he grabbed it, kissing the inside of her wrist. "I'm only kidding, Willow. I want you to want this too." He looped the handcuffs around a pole in the headboard and then attached it to her other wrist.
He gently tugged her hips so that she was laying flat on the bed. "Crazy for You" by Madonna started to play as she wiggled herself into a comfortable position; it was a little difficult with her wrists handcuffed to the headboard. She heard Spike's strangled groan so she wiggled a little more. "You're bent on driving me insane, aren't you?" he asked, only half joking.
Since she was wearing her collar, she knew she was only supposed to speak if she was asked a question and that was most definitely a question.
"Yes, master," came out much breathier than she had intended, but it had the desired effect; Spike was next to her on the bed and crushing her lips beneath his.
"Bad slave, taunting your master like that. I think I'll have to punish you."
She heard the drawer of the bedside table open and shivered in anticipation. Soft rabbit fur ran down her body from her neck to her feet.
"Turn over. You need to be spanked." She almost twisted her wrist in her urgency to flip onto her stomach.
A barely stinging slap from his hand hit her bottom, followed immediately by his caressing hands soothing the spot. She was beginning to suspect that Spike liked spanking her as much because of the caresses he administered as the pain he got to inflict.
The next blow from his hand was a little harder and his fingers lingered on her skin just a little longer. He remembered his promise to himself to make this perfect for her. "Open your legs." He moved himself around until he was kneeling between he legs. He brought the rabbit fur flogger down on her ass with a whack that he knew sounded worse than it felt. Nevertheless, he bent over and kissed the spot that had been whipped. Her bum wriggled beneath his lips.
He hit her with the flogger once again, this time making sure that the end brushed against her red and swollen labia. His kiss to her cheek was followed by a kiss to her labia. She raised her ass in the air and moaned.
"Down. You're being punished, Willow, don't forget that. If I want to enjoy your pain - your hot… wet… swollen… aching… pain, than I will, but I'm the master, you are to be subservient to me, do you understand?"
She nodded.
"Answer me, my slave. Do you understand that you are to accept your punishment no matter what," he stopped to quickly lick her swollen clit, "it is?"
She screamed "Yes, master," as she came and he smiled at her reaction. She was so passionate he could get her off just by talking to her, he didn't have to even be in the same room. Note to self: Fuck Willow with words later on tonight.
His hands were on her back stroking her, calming her, letting her regain control before the next phase of her 'punishment'. When her breathing was even, he pulled out the purple leather flogger she had picked out that night in LA. He let it fall on the bed next to her face, he knew she loved the smell of the leather. He heard her deep intake of breath and asked, "Do you want this?" It wasn't really a question, she was going to get it anyway, he just wanted to build up her anticipation.
"Yes, master," she purred. He couldn't help the grin that came to him. Hadn't he just told her she was supposed be pretending to be punished? Gods below, he loved this woman.
He ran the leather strips down the length of her back. As he raised the whip, the tempo of the music changed dramatically as a new song started, "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard. Not his favorite band, but a great song. He rolled his eyes and silently sent a quick thank you to Dawn. He let the whip fall in a satisfying slap that left red slashes across the perfect skin of his girl's ass. He really liked this song. Without easing the pain, he cracked the whip across her ass once again. She hissed and backed into his hardening cock. He slid up until his erection was resting in the cleft between her lower cheeks and snapped the whip down again, this time hitting both of them.
His hand reached out to soothe the red slashes across her bottom and he moaned as his hand pressed his cock into the softness of her flesh. He brought down three fast successive blows, taking the brunt of the pain himself.
He dropped the whip to the floor and pulled Willow up onto her knees, burying himself inside of her. She pushed back against him and he spanked her left cheek hard; he wanted to drive, wanted to pound into her until she screamed out his name. Instead of stopping she moved herself harder, pulling forward then slamming back against him. Every time she did this, he smacked her ass again, spurring her on even more. It didn't take long; he felt her inner muscles grab hold of the still stinging flesh of his whipped shaft, sending him into a climax that had him screaming, "WILLOW!" and Willow screamed out, "SPIKE! Oh goddess, SPIKE!"
Their legs gave out at the same time and they fell to the bed in an exhausted heap, Spike remembering to hit the release on the cuffs as he landed. He lay on top of her, still wrapped in her wet softness and listened to her gasping for breath. He started to drop to the side to give her room to breath, but she called out, "No" and held him in place with an arm stretched behind her.
He reached up to unbuckle her collar, kissing the skin that had been rubbed red by the leather. "I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anything." There was so much emotion in his voice that Willow didn't know what to say. 'I love you, too' just wouldn't cover it, so she lay there, one hand behind her head, running her fingers through his hair until they both calmed from the physical and emotional exertion.
She thought he might have fallen asleep when she heard him ask, "Hungry?"
"Mmm, yes, please."
"Come on. Shower first. For some reason, we're both all sticky," he laughed.
She smiled as he led her into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She loved taking a shower with him. Sometimes he made love to her so hard she thought she'd be knocked unconscious from her head hitting the tile; other times, their lovemaking was so slow and tender she'd break down and cry. She wondered what he had in store for her tonight.
She was so sated all she could do was lean in a relaxed slump against the shower wall. She closed her eyes and waited for him to touch her. His hands never came. A warm soapy washcloth gently washed her back and her shoulders. It massaged her aching leg muscles as it ran over her heated flesh. It cleaned her arms and scrubbed the dead skin off her elbows just like she always did when she did this for herself.
Cool hands moved her face into the spray of warm water and then the washcloth scrubbed all of the makeup off that she had so carefully applied only hours before. A disembodied voice floated into her relaxed consciousness and said, "Gods below, you're so beautiful. Why do you hide behind all that crap?"
She giggled. "You bought it."
"You're avoiding the question. I understand the rest of those chits, they need all the help they can get. But you - you're beautiful - perfect. Why do you wear it?"
She smiled and let herself be pulled into a hug. "So I can hear you say things like that when I wash it off."
"Well, it's not good, but it's a reason." He smiled.
She smiled and let him pull the pins from her hair. It had taken a lot of gel and hairspray to get her normally flat hair to stay in the curled ringlets and she was more than happy to let him wash it all out. His fingers felt so good massaging her scalp and running through her clean hair that she fell asleep against his chest until he turned off the water.
"Still hungry?"
"Only if you feed me, I'm too tired to move."
He grinned. "That can be arranged. Go get a robe, I'll meet you downstairs."
When she had put on her fluffy white terry robe and towel dried her hair, she realized that her feet were going to be freezing on the cold linoleum floor of the kitchen, so she stopped to put on a pair of warm scrunchy socks.
She walked into the kitchen and cuddled against Spike's back, wrapping her arms around his waist. She offered a silent prayer to her goddess for sending him to her. He leaned back into her embrace and said, "Close your eyes."
Her energy rallied at his words, "New game?"
"Sort of. Close your eyes."
"Okay, closed."
"Come sit." She thought she was going to be led to a chair, instead she was lowered to the floor and she was pretty sure she was next to the open refrigerator.
"Promise to keep them closed, no matter what?"
"Uh-huh."
"You're so much fun to play with," he laughed. She heard various noises, some she could identify, some were more mysterious. She heard chopping with a knife on the butcher-block cutting board. She heard the food processor going briefly; she heard the can opener and what sounded like the top being popped on a can of soda pop.
She was just about to ask what all he was doing up there when she felt him plop down on the floor next to her.
"Open up."
"Huh?" She pulled her knees up to her chest.
"Open your mouth," he said, chuckling.
She did and she felt some thing cold and hard being dropped in. It was round, like a cylinder. "Carrot," she said, laughing.
When it was gone he said, "Open," and this time it was something sweet and gooey. "Mmm," she said as she swallowed the cherry pie filling.
"Like that?" he asked.
"Mm hmm," was her only answer. He scooped some of the sweet filling out of the can with his finger and this time when he told her to open he stuck his finger in her mouth. She sucked every last molecule of sweetness off of his finger and still continued to suck the finger. His jeans were getting tight and he had hardly even started so he pulled it out, admonishing, "This is my game, no changing the rules." Her answer was the most innocent smile.
"Open."
She felt something kind of liquidy but tangy fall on her tongue. "Ugh - mustard. Now I need a hot dog," she asked sweetly.
He groaned and pulled her hand over to feel his hard groin. "Later," he promised.
She opened her mouth without being told and he held a cup to her lips. "Drink."
Hoping it wasn't blood, she swallowed. "Mmm, ice coffee, my favorite." She opened her mouth for more but he told her, "No more caffeine for you tonight. I may need you for something later and I don't want you jumping all over the place."
She pouted, "You're no fun."
"Now you know that's a lie," she heard when he led a finger up her thigh and into her moist heat. He was inside of her just long enough to coat his fingers with her juices and laughed as he saw her mouth open. "No way, pet, this one's mine." And she heard his moan as he sucked on his own fingers.
Thunder rumbled outside and she jumped. "S'allright, Love, just a little thunderstorm. Now where was I? Oh yeah. Open."
She felt the tines of a cold fork on her tongue and she closed her lips around it to find her mouth full of her favorite cheesecake. After she swallowed, she asked, "Where did you get Buffy's mom's cheesecake?"
"She sent it over this morning with the other stuff."
"And you didn't tell me? That's just mean."
"Well, Dawn said it wasn't for 'brunch', it was for later and then well, we were keeping each other kinda busy 'later' and you seemed right happy with what you had in your mouth at the time so I forgot to mention it."
She had the grace to blush and then realized that it was really pointless to blush in front of Spike, so she tried to stop. That made it worse. His hands cupped her cheeks and he whispered, "I love to make you blush. All pink and rosy and warm."
She hadn't realized he had moved until she felt cool lips on her neck. "Mmm, back to bed now?" she asked hopefully.
"Nope, not done feedin' ya."
For the next fifteen minutes she was fed, in order, cheese, honey, artichokes, raw egg (which she spit out), sliced red peppers, Ritz crackers, cherry tomatoes, pecans, Jack Daniels (she almost choked on that), orange sections, peanut butter, raw zucchini, hard-boiled egg, jello and Tabasco sauce. That was followed very quickly by half a slice of bread and a quart of milk which she poured half down the front of her robe in order to get it down faster.
The storm was getting stronger and it seemed as if they were the only two people in the world. Suddenly the lights went out and Willow screamed. Even though her eyes had been closed, light had filtered through and then suddenly everything was dark.
"Quick, Spike, close the fridge, we don't want anything to spoil. You never know how long the power's going to be out."
She didn't hear anything for a few moments. "Spike?"
Finally she heard the frig door close, but then the freezer door opened and closed. She heard a drawer on the other side of the kitchen open and close.
"Spike?"
"Lay down, pet."
"Spike?" she sounded a little wary.
"You want to make one of my fantasies come true?" he asked tentatively, as if he wasn't sure what her answer would be. She smiled and lay flat on her back.
She felt his hands untie her robe and slip her arms out of the sleeves. Something really, really cold was placed on her stomach. It smelled like chocolate. Ice cream? It was starting to melt on her heated skin. Another scoop was placed next to it.
"Spike?"
"Yeah, pet."
"What are you doing?"
"Making a banana split."
"That's your fantasy, a banana split?"
"Yup," he laughed. Another scoop landed next to the first two, which were slowly melting and creating trails of ice cream down the sides of her stomach. It felt really good. She heard a spoon scraping on something.
"What's that?"
"Whipped cream." She didn't know why, since it was dark as pitch in the house, at least to her it was, but she had the feeling that Spike had never directed his comments at her, but instead kept his eyes fixed on the creation he was making on her stomach. She heard a jar open and knew the cherries would be next.
"What about the banana?" she asked.
"I was just getting to that." The soft cool skin of a banana touched her face and ran across her check and down her neck to her chest.
"Aren't you going to peel it?"
"Nope." She was afraid he was going to say that. The banana continued to move across her body, circling her breasts and down past the melting scoops of ice cream. It paused at her belly button.
"Open your legs." With an overly loud gulp she did as she was told. The cool skin of the banana moved down to her newly shaved skin before being laid on her abdomen. Spike's hand moved through her wet folds and one finger slipped inside of her, slowly stroking and stretching her; then another finger joined the first and when she was moaning and grinding against his hand, a third and fourth finger were pumping inside of her. When she was on the verge of cumming, he stopped. Wet fingers slipped back up from her slick channel, past her aching clit and finally settled on the banana, which now continued its journey down her body until it was poised at her waiting opening. Slowly, so very slowly, he pushed it inside of her, filling her. She moaned and then was instantly upset with herself - she was getting turned on by a banana!
Well, no, her brain reasoned, Spike and all of the things he was doing to her were turning her on. Okay, that was okay, her brain rationalized. It was about then that she realized the banana wasn't moving - or rather, Spike wasn't moving the banana. Her internal muscles were grasping it, convulsing around it, not enough to cum, but enough that she was ready to forget about it being a banana.
"Spike?"
"Shh."
It was a minute or two before she felt him move again and then it was his hands on her stomach and abdomen, rubbing the ice cream around on her skin. He massaged the melting ice cream and whipped cream into her flesh, covering every bit of her between her hairline and her knees. She closed her eyes and let her senses take over. The man she loved was touching her, caressing her everywhere, making her body tingle and tense. He covered her face and her arms, he spent a gloriously long time on her breasts and nipples, massaged the thighs that were aching from their earlier lovemaking. Her fevered cunt was being deliciously filled while he was doing this and all of it was living out a fantasy for Spike. She came, strong and hard; the banana shooting out of her to hit the wall across the room.
It took a few seconds for her mind to register why Spike was laughing, but when she got her mind around it, she started laughing too.
Strong arms lifted her and carried her to the back door. "You need a shower, Love." He headed out to the back lawn and when he was in the center, he dropped her legs and let her stand.
"Than-" he started but she stopped him with a kiss. As the rain poured down on them and thunder rumbled loud and strong, she kissed him with passion and waited for a streak of lightning. When one came, she looked into his eyes and knew she would do anything this man ever asked of her. She loved him, trusted him, adored, worshipped and revered him. And his eyes told her that he felt the same way about her. And she would have all of this literally forever. She didn't plan on becoming a vampire anytime soon, she knew that one of the things Spike liked about her was her warmth, her physical warmth, and she wanted to keep that for him as long as she could.
She pulled out of the kiss and told him to keep focused on her eyes, never leave them. When she felt those beautiful blue orbs digging into her soul, her hands reached out to undo his jeans and never lost his gaze as she pulled them down and off of him. She lay him down in the wet grass and lowered herself onto his pulsating cock, riding him hard and slow. His fingers dug into her hips and his chest and neck muscles tensed as his climax grew closer, but he did as she asked and never took his eyes from hers. That was his undoing; he spilled his seed into her within minutes, but she didn't seem to mind, she fell as quickly as he did.
She lay down on his chest to catch her breath, neither said a word, they didn't have to, it had all just been said.
Willow was getting settled up against the headboard of their new bed when Spike announced, "I have another pressie for ya." His voice was low and soft and the words barely came out.
"More?" Willow asked, agape. "After this morning and the flowers and the food and the book and the expensive nightie that lasted all of three and a half seconds before you were taking it off me again? And then dinner and dancing? There's MORE?"
The excitement in her voice gave him a little more confidence.
"Well, just a little thing really," he said, walking over to the closet and pulling out his guitar. He lay it on the bed before going downstairs and bringing up his duster. He lay the coat on the other side of the bed, picked up his guitar and sat down next to Willow, crossing his legs in front of him on the bed and settling the guitar on his lap.
Her eyes glassed over and she whispered, "I love it when you sing to me."
The melody was one that she was vaguely familiar with but she was sure he'd never sung it for her before. His voice was like warm honey as he sang to her, his song strong and sure.
"I've been searchin' a long timeWhen he was through, he lay the instrument on the floor and looked at Willow. Tears were streaming down her face. She wasn't making a sound, but her face was covered in tear tracks. He reached behind him into one of his duster pockets. He pulled out a small flat aqua box, about five inches by five inches and handed it to Willow. It had a white bow tied around it and the word 'Tiffany's' was printed on the top. She looked a question at him, but he just motioned for her to open the box.
For someone exactly like you
I've been travelin' all around the world
Waitin' for you to come through
Someone like you
Makes it all worthwhile
Someone like you
Keeps me satisfied
Someone exactly like you
I've been travelin' a hard road
Baby, looking for someone exactly like you
I've been carrying my heavy load
Waitin' for the light to come shinin' through
Someone like you
Makes it all worthwhile
Someone like you
Makes me satisfied
Someone exactly like you
I've been doin' some soul searching
To find out where you were at
I've been up and down the highway
In all kinds of foreign lands
Someone like you
Makes it all worthwhile
Someone like you
Keeps me satisfied
Someone exactly like you
I've been all around the world
Marching to the beat of a different drum
But just lately I have realized
Baby, the best is yet to come
Someone like you
Makes it all worthwhile
Someone like you
Keeps me satisfied
Someone exactly like you
Someone exactly like you
Someone exactly like you
The best is yet to come
Oh the best is yet to come
Someone exactly like you
Someone exactly like you"
She didn't know what she had been expecting, but what she found definitely wasn't it. Inside, laying on a cushion of aqua velvet, was a key. A new, shiny key, but it looked like an ordinary key.
"What-"
"I bought a house. You know that old Victorian that the woman with all the grandkids lived in over on Peach Street, the one you sigh over every time we pass it? I bought it - for you - for us."
She was speechless. She was so happy, on so many different levels - that he cared about what she wanted, that he listened when she said something, that he wanted a place of their own, that he had done this, bought a house - on his own, when everybody else seemed to need her because they couldn't figure out how to make a bank deposit.
"How -? I mean, can we afford it?"
"Already paid for, in cash. No mortgage."
When her mouth dropped open even wider and she didn't say anything, he grinned. "Did I forget to tell you I'm rich? Some of it's family money. Some, well, you don't want to know where I got it. But it's been sitting in accounts around the world. Couple of months ago, I hired an accountant and set her on getting it all together. One thing about being a vampire, no real need for cash, you want something, you take it - it's a great system. Until you fall in love with a human girl who makes you re-think the way you do things. Oh," he reached back into another pocket of the duster and pulled out a leather wallet. "These are yours." He started dropping little pieces of plastic with her name on them in front of her: American Express, Mastercard, Visa, Discover, Bloomingdale's, Neiman Marcus. "This too." It was a checkbook. When she opened it, she saw the names 'William Aurelius' and 'Willow Rosenberg' in the top left corner with her parents' address under it.
"You have to go into the bank and sign some kind of card, they were rather touchy about that. And if you like the new house, you can change the address while you're there."
"But - but - " it was then that she realized he hadn't really looked at her as he said all this and his voice had gotten kind of soft by the time he got to the end. Did he think she wouldn't like it? Did he think she'd turn down a house of their very own? A house that was theirs - hers and Spike's? Did he think that she'd turn down him?
"Oh, goddess! Spike, I love you so much. I love this. I love the house, I love how thoughtful you are, I love that you're willing to stay here in the town you call Sunnyhell, I love you, just you." And she jumped into his lap and kissed him.
"Well, pet, in that case," he picked up the Tiffany's box once again and handed it to her, "You may want to look under that little pillow thing." When she lifted it, she didn't see anything at first. Then a glint caught her eye and she looked at the bottom of the cushion. Attached to it were two rings, exactly alike except for size, perfect bands of white gold rimmed with yellow gold.
"Oh my goddess! Spike, are you -" she took a deep breath, this was Spike she was dealing with, he may not look at things the way humans do. "What are these for?" she asked with the most fake calm she could muster at the moment.
"They're to wear, o' course. One for you, one for me. Let's everybody know you're mine and I'm yours. Means we're together forever."
"Oh." She smiled. Commitment. They meant commitment. That was good, that was very good. Together - forever - hadn't she just been thinking the same thing outside?
"They're wedding rings," he announced as if maybe she didn't know.
"Yes, I know," was her whispered reply.
"Vampires don't get married, ya know."
"Yes, I know, Spike. And it was so thoughtful of you to get these rings. We have a relationship that will be forever, so these are appropriate, very, um, appropriate."
"But you're not a vampire," he whispered, very close to her ear as a single tear ran down her face. Another aqua box appeared in his hand. This one was small and square. When she didn't move to open it, he did. Inside was another box, this one was cut blood-red crystal with an almost invisible hinge in the back. He held it out for her; she didn't touch it.
A very small voice said, "Spike?"
A very aggravated voice answered, "What?"
"What, um, what's in the box?"
He'd had enough. She didn't want him. He was good for fun, play with him a couple of years until someone serious came along, then dump him like the scum he was. He pushed her off of his lap and stood, pacing around the room, the box still in his hand. "It's my heart, Willow," he spat at her. "It was my bloody heart that I was fool enough to think you'd want." He looked at the box. Instantly he calmed. He should have expected this. It was his own damn fault for getting his hopes up - again. You'd think a century and a half would have taught him something. The words he'd heard so long ago echoed inside his head, 'You're beneath me.' Only this time it was true. He was beneath her. Everything about Willow was pure and sweet and perfect. Deserving of someone better than him. "It's nothing, Love. Nothing. Keep it, sell it, bury it, I don't care. I bought it for you. To do with as you like." He stooped down and set the box on the floor. As Willow stood staring at the box and replaying everything he'd said, he left. When she looked up, he was gone.
She found him forty-five minutes later. He was sitting in the Bronze, a full glass and an empty bottle in front of him. He was sitting at a table full of what she knew to be other vampires, some friends of his, some not so much. She looked over and saw Buffy, Xander, and Anya at the same table they'd been at earlier. Tara and Dawn must have gone home. It was almost closing time anyway. She waved at her friends, but didn't go to their table.
He felt her when she came in. He figured she was here to commiserate with her friends or tell them what an ass he'd made of himself. She wore the same dress she'd had on earlier, the same painfully high heels. Then he saw the collar. What game was she playing at? Little human girls should know better than to piss off already pissed-off and now drunk vampires.
She walked right up to his table and then around to the side where he sat. She quietly and politely asked the leather and studded vest wearing 350 pound vampire next to Spike if he could move just a little to give her some room to sit. Everyone was quiet at the table as he did it.
"What?" the vamp asked. "She said 'please'. Look at her, what was I supposed to do?"
She told him thank you before sitting herself on the floor at Spike's feet and resting her head on his knee. She never looked at him, just sat there as she knew a good slave was supposed to do.
The conversation started up again and Spike was telling them about a new cross-breed of demon that Angelus had told him about in LA. They were blood suckers as well, and if they decided to visit Sunnyhell, the clans here were going to have to rally in order to keep their food supply as it was - theirs. As he spoke, he unconsciously ran his fingers through Willow's soft strands, he'd done it so often in the last year that he didn't even realize he was doing it until he heard a contented sigh come from her direction and he looked down at her for the first time. Not only was she wearing the collar, but also a black leash, which she had lain across his lap. Her left hand had come to rest on his thigh, something she often did without thinking about it.
But this time it was different. This time the third finger of her left hand was bejeweled with a ring. A three carat garnet ring with two triangular diamonds on each side of it. It was set in white gold. The exact same ring that had been in a red crystal box that he'd left sitting on the floor of their room in Willow's parents' house.
He cut off what he was saying and pulled Willow up and into his lap. She was now crying.
"I love you," she said through her tears. "I love you so much. I'm never going to give you up and if you think you can get rid of me by just walking-"
She didn't get to finish the speech she had planned while looking for him because he was too busy kissing her and lifting her up to carry her out of the club. Once they were outside, Spike walked her up to the nearest wall and held her in place between himself and the wall. She wasn't going to misinterpret him this time.
"Willow, will you marry me?"
Buffy, Xander and Anya had run out of the club and had arrived just in time to hear his question. And see the tears run down Willow's face as she bit her bottom lip and nodded.