Everything I Said
By Cobweb
Title: Everything I Said
Author: Cobweb
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Spike sees something he shouldn't, kindling
feelings that evolve into much more.
Distribution: Seeing as this is my first fic, simply
ask. Chances of me turning you down are slim to none.
(Naughty-fic. Well, everybody's gotta start
somewhere, right?)
Disclaimer: Characters are property of Joss and
Mutant Enemy. Grr. Arg. Please don't sue--I don't
have much anyway. Really.
Feedback: Would be a dream. Loved it? Spite it?
Let me know.
Notes: Ideas and inspiration thought it would be fun
to swarm my head, turning this into a series. Little
buggers, they are. So expect more of this, though
maybe not as... sexually-oriented.
~~~
Willow's eyes fluttered open, squinting
in attempt to
partially block the harsh sunlight streaming through
the gauzy curtains that covered the windows of the
French doors that led to her balcony. The sky outside
blazed with firey orange and pink tones; it was
sunset. She couldn't believe she'd slept as long as
she had. Spike, Buffy, and her had been out almost
until dawn the previous night. Active demonic
behavior had risen in the past two weeks, and neither
of the three had a clue as to why. Giles seemed to be
reading continuously, searching for clues or reasons
to whatever possible demon's or vampire's ascension to
earth would have caused such an uproar amongst those
of the underworld. With Xander and Anya's help,
progress was faster, but still holding only a passing
promise of finding out what was happening in the world
beneath them.
Last night had been busy. It was
like an utter swarm
of vamps had appeared from no where, and if it hadn't
been for Spike's keen senses, the trio might have been
caught unprepared for the attack. As it was, each had
returned home with quite a number of stakings, with
bruises to show for them all. Willow was reminded of
this as she rolled onto her side, wincing as at a
particularly nasty dent in her hip pulsed in pain at
the pressure. Shifting so that she was sitting up,
the young witch rubbed the offending area lightly with
one pale palm. Green eyes gazed sleepily around the
room. Buffy would be calling her in a couple of hours
to begin another night of fighting the forces of evil,
so she decided it best to just get up. A shower was
sounding especially good around that time.
Slender fingers rose to sweep her flaming
red hair out
of her face, and she grimaced as she yanked through a
tangle. < Definitely in need of a good shampoo... >
she thought to herself, and rose, shrugging into a
soft blue terry-cloth robe. A shiver ran through her
body at the quiet of the house. Willow sighed. She
had come home from college for the summer, only to
have both parents floating in and out occasionally,
simply passing through in between business trips.
Sometimes they were gone for days, sometimes weeks...
not that it was any different than when she had been
growing up. She had gotten used to it then, and had
grown to expect it now.
In bare feet, she trudged into the bathroom
and ran
the hot water. Clouds of steam had already begun to
rise as she stepped out of her black satin pajamas.
She found herself drawn to black as of late, very much
so in the form of lingerie and sleep wear. The
contrast of it compared to the snow tone of her skin
and her flaming locks was striking to say the least,
and Willow wanted to feel striking now and then, even
if it was only in private. Right now she felt more
adult and mature than ever in her life before. She
was, after all, a woman now. Nineteen years was but a
fraction of a lifetime, but she'd always been an old
soul. And with all of the things she'd experienced
thus far, she figured most anyone would feel old by
now, had they been in her shoes.
Willow turned turned the faucet knob that
would
transfer the tub water to the shower sprayer and
stepped inside the bath. Heat poured over her,
drenching her in relaxation. She closed her eyes and
reached for the shampoo bottle. She flipped open the
cap and inhaled the sweet herbal smell and giggled.
She felt like one of those women on the Herbal Essence
commercials. A small smile graced her features as she
shook her head and squeezed a dollop of shampoo into
her hand and began to work up a lather.
~~~
Spike turned the knob on one of the French
doors,
pleasantly surprised as he found it to be unlocked.
At least that was something. < Buggery lazy slayer,
making me the messenger boy instead of paying the bill
on her bloody cell phone... go all the way out to the
cemetery and she tells me to go back and get Willow...
little tart slayer... > he grumbled to himself,
stepping somewhat cautiously into Willow's room. It
was only then that he realized he could have just rang
the bell and gone in through the front, but old habits
die hard, even harder when one was already dead.
"Willow?" he called out to her. No
answer. He
listened for a moment, and the sound of running water
caught his ears. He shrugged and strolled to the
source of the sound, out of Willow's room and down the
hall towards the loo. < Must be showering... ah well,
nothing she has that I haven't seen before. >
He knocked softly once, just so he could
say he had.
When there was no reply, he took it upon himself to
make his presence known.
The bathroom was fogged with steam, which
he carefully
navigated through until a spot of clear formed in the
sticky air. Spike hadn't expected the girl to have a
glass shower stall. Curtains were one thing,
see-through was quite another. He arched a brow at
her naked silhouette, bathed in thick, white soap
suds, water trickling down her warm flesh. His teeth
ground together as a pang of lust stabbed through his
body. The little witch was damned sexy. Too damned
sexy. Lude puns raced through his mind, one of the
most notable being, "slippery when wet". He shook
them from his mind. It would do him no good to have
such... distracting thoughts, especially while in
battle.
But that didn't mean he couldn't watch.
And...
fantasize. He nearly groaned aloud at the thought of
her slippery, pale, hot flesh pressed against his own.
He jumped slightly as her palm pressed against one
clear wall of the shower, leaving a moist handprint.
Cerulean eyes drank in her every movement as she
bathed; running the sudsy sponge over her flat
stomach, up and around the swell of her breasts, then
back down to cleanse the delicate crease of where her
thigh and more... private areas met. She ran the
sponge along a slender arm, until it came to her
shoulder, grazing over the shadowed part of her
collarbone and then moving on to her neck.
Oh, that neck. That creamy, pulsing,
heated neck of
hers that he longed to taste. Spike bit back another
groan as remembered her scent, a rich blend of vanilla
perfume and Willow herself. The air seemed to be
injected with it now, he realized. So sweet... so
fresh... she was so flawlessly beautiful.
He shifted uncomfortably--one of the many
drawbacks to
viewing such a sight while wearing black jeans. So
consumed was he by his thoughts of lust that he barely
noticed that she was rinsing off and would be out of
the shower any moment. With perfect silence, he left
the warmth of the room for the crisp, cool air that
circulated throughout the rest of the house. He
lingered in the hallway for a moment before deciding
to return to her room and wait. She wouldn't be that
long anyway.
~~~
Willow turned off the water and stepped
out of the
shower stall. The room was clouded with steam, and
she hurried to wrap herself in a towel to sooner
escape the thick air. Still dripping but not caring,
she sighed deeply and wiped off the mirror, gazing at
her own reflection. Her face had a slight flush to
it, and her hair, now an auburn colour from the water,
dripped onto the counter top. The ends of it were
spikey and it was almost unruly, in a sexy sort of
way. She smiled seductively at her reflection before
bursting into a small fit of giggles. Gathering up
her discarded night clothes, she left the bathroom and
started back to her own.
She stepped into the room and shut the
door, even
though she knew no one was home. She thought she
knew, at least. She cast the pajamas absently over
her shoulder, unknowingly covering Spike in puddles of
black satin.
He inhaled the scent of the clothes before
pulling
them off of his head. She smelled so damn good. He
watched as she went over to her stereo, still unaware
of his presence. She placed a cd into one of the
multiple players and put a song on repeat. The lofty
sounds of the Cranberries filtered through the
speakers, Dolores O'Riordan's heavily accented voice
winding melodies together. Spike smiled as he heard
her sing along, his eyebrows lifting as he realized
that she wasn't half bad as a singer, especially for
singing in an Irish accent.
"It makes me lonely, it makes me very lonely,
when I
see you here, waiting on..." she sang, dropping her
voice and swaying her hips in her towel. "It makes me
tired, it makes me very tired, and inside of me,
lingers on..."
He could have sworn she'd been singing
to him, about
him. He continued to watch in silence as she stopped
singing and simply moved to the music that was so rich
in rhythm and depth of emotion.
But you have a heart, oh
Don't believe it, and you will find it
Waiting on
Everything I said, oh
Well I meant it, and inside my head
Holding on
She spun around, eyes closed, and continued
to dance
slowly like a snake, her body curving in and swaying
seductively. Spike's jaw clenched and unclenched at
the sight. She was so damn beautiful. He wondered
whether or not to keep silent, but soon realized that
he wouldn't have to make that decision as she went to
sit on her bed and ended up in his lap instead.
Willow shrieked with surprise and darted
off of him,
quickly getting to her feet.
"Spike! What the hell are you doing here?!"
"Slayer sent me to come get you," he stated
simply.
Willow looked nervous, her eyes focusing on anything
but his face.
"How long have you been here?"
"Since you came in. You were in the
loo before, so I
decided to wait in here." There. It had only been a
half-lie. It was somewhat redeeming, at least by his
standards.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Uh, oh. She sounded angry. Almost.
Spike shrugged. "Couldn't help myself.
You know, you
really are a very good dancer," he gazed up at her,
his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Willow
blushed fiercely. "Oh, don't be embarrassed, pet.
You've got nothing to be modest about."
He made sure that that last sentence dripped
with
invitation.
Willow wasn't quite sure what to say.
The strums of
guitars and lyrics of the song was the only sound in
the room.
'Cos if I died tonight
Would you hold my hand, oh
Would you understand
And if I lived in spite
Would you still be here, or
Would you disappear
Willow's brows furrowed. She could
feel him watching
her. She could feel his eyes boring into her at the
lyrics. Those gorgeous, piercing, electric blue
eyes... < No! Bad Willow! Bad! Don't think like
that... well, at least not about him... > She bit
down on her lower lip, which only enticed him more.
He wondered what she tasted like.
"I-I gotta get dressed..." she stammered,
annoyed at
the falter in her voice. Why could she never manage
to sound authoritative when she wanted to?
< Pity, > Spike thought to himself,
but didn't move.
Didn't want to move. He thought he could stare at her
forever and never tire of the sight of her. < Bloody
gorgeous. >
< Damn. Damn damn damn.
Why isn't he moving? Damn.
> She turned around, unsure of what to do next.
Spike took that as his cue. He rose and stepped up
behind her, blowing an icy breath along her neck that
caused gooseflesh to appear on her skin. He smiled
devilishly, leaning in to whisper into her ear.
"Turn around, love," he said softly, the
lilting
British accent of his voice drizzling like so much
honey.
Willow froze. What would he do?
What would she do?
She couldn't possibly, not with him... could she? <
No! No, she most certainly can't. She won't. She
won't, > she emphasized to her brain. The steam from
the bathroom was gone, but something still lingered in
the air; desire. Pheromones, hormones, were her
explanations.
When she didn't move, Spike decided a little...
persuasion, was in order. His cool tongue lightly
grazed over her skin, ever so slightly making contact.
She shivered in response.
< Damn it, > she cursed herself.
< It's too
dangerous. And Buffy could come looking for us if we
don't show up and find us. Yeah. There. Too
dangerous. There's nothing arousing about the thrill
of the possibility of getting caught. Nope. Nothing
inviting about the thought that someone might find us,
spread out across the bed, naked, sweaty, pressed
against each oth--oh, what the hell. >
She took a deep, shuddering breath and
spun around.
Spike was a bit surprised, but wasted no time in
lowering his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss. She
returned the pressure with equal need, opening her
mouth in invitation to his tongue, which plunged to
meet her own. Their mouths twisted together,
entwining with each other with a force that neither
cared to control. The scorching heat of her mouth
urged him further, his fangs grazing the sensitive
flesh. She pulled back for a vital breath, allowing
him to suck and nibble on her lower lip before she
pushed herself back into him, arching her back against
his body.
Spike had no trouble feeling her heat through
his
shirt. He was moth to her flame, helpless to stop the
attraction and need that engulfed him. He could feel
her breasts throb in time with her pounding heartbeat
as she pressed closer to wrap her arms around his
neck, clawing at him lightly with her nails. For the
first time that night, he didn't try to suppress the
groan that had risen up in throat. Not breaking
contact, they staggered towards the bed. She pushed
him into a sitting position and straddled his lap,
eagerly wanting more of him.
They continued to kiss ferociously as she
lowered her
hands to peel off his shirt, and Spike then decided
that she tasted like a ripe peach. The thought of
Willow sinking her teeth into the luscious fruit only
excited him further. They separated so she could pull
his shirt over his head, and Willow noticed his eyes,
flashing from blue to yellow and back again, finding a
medium at olive-coloured cat-eyes, dark with desire
around slitted pupils. It was almost carnal, she
noted.
Her towel loosened and fell to her waist,
exposing her
pale breasts, topped with rose-coloured peaks. They
were perfect, according to Spike. Perfect teardrops
of flesh, heated and begging for attention which he
was more that willing to supply. His mouth traveled
down, passing over her neck. (He would save that for
later.) He licked around each breast, sliding his
cold tongue over her hot skin, being careful to avoid
the aching tips. She stretched in his embrace like a
cat, grimacing each time he would skip over one of the
hardened nubs.
She was squirming in his lap, grinding
her hips
against his own. He gave in to her silent requests,
taking one breast into his mouth and suckling it
roughly, nipping at the tip. This elicited a moan
from his mate, and his eyes wandered up to where she
had her head thrown back in ecstasy. She was so damn
beautiful. Her hair swung and whipped like fire, the
highlights dancing in the light. Her emerald eyes
were half-closed, their lids heavy with want, and her
mouth was parted in soft gasps that sometimes sounded
like whispers of his name. He moved on to the other
breast, and her moans began all over again.
Willow could barely believe she what she
was doing,
and more importantly whom she was doing it with.
Swept away in emotions and cravings, all she could do
was enjoy the intense feelings of the present. His
body was chilled, contrasting with her own heat like
fire and ice. It felt wonderful. She'd suspected
that Spike would be an excellent lover. Nearly two
centuries of practice had been quite a benefit. He
prided himself on what he could do, in lovemaking and
everything else, and for him, there was no point in
being with someone if they didn't enjoy his
performance. And enjoying it, she was. Pressing down
on his hips, she felt his pulsing member, hard and no
doubt uncomfortable in his jeans.
She reached down, massaging him through
his pants,
silencing his frustrated growl with a deep kiss. She
broke it off abruptly and tenderly kisses his jaw,
then planted another on his throat, making a trail of
small licks and kisses down to his jeans, stopping to
lick around his navel briefly. Nimble hands hastily
undid his belt and pulled it off in one swift motion.
Spike leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes as
she unbuttoned the confining jeans and pulled down the
zipper, freeing him from the constricting fabric. He
moaned as she slid one finger over the tent in his
black silk boxers, teasing him with her touch. He
fought the urge to throw her back and ravish her right
then on the floor, giving her as much patience with
his body as she gave him with hers. He lifted his
body off of the bed momentarily to aid her in removing
his pants and boxers, clenching his jaw when she had
to stop to take off his boots. He'd never felt a need
like this before. Her body flowed over him, spreading
fire everywhere that she touched him. The heat felt
as if it were building up inside him, causing him to
strain for release.
Her nails ran along the insides of his
legs on her way
back up, causing him to inhale sharply, even though he
didn't need to. A warm hand gripped his sex, and he
wouldn't have been able to control the buck of his
hips even if he'd wanted to. His eyes met hers, both
sets dark with desire, visions of what was soon to
come playing out before each other's gaze. Willow's
head dipped back down, licking at one of his flat male
nipples. She heard him exhale heavily above her, a
soft rumble building in his chest like a throaty purr,
growing louder as she raked her nails along his sides
and down his chest. Both were more than ready.
Lifting herself in his lap, Willow kissed
him hard,
plunging her tongue into his mouth. She positioned
herself over his sex, teasing him with the throbbing
heat that radiated from her before impaling herself
upon his shaft. Spike growled at the sudden intense
heat that engulfed him, filling him with such an
immense pleasure that he thought he might lose control
at any moment. Willow's head move around to nibble on
his earlobe. She ran her hot tongue along the smooth
line of his throat, stopping to nip at the sensitive
flesh right below his ear and jawline. A snarl
escaped him as she raised up along him, tightening her
inner muscles before releasing them and slamming back
onto him.
Cor, she was incredible, biting down softly
on his
neck, harder each time she thrusted against him. His
hands cupped her breasts and pushed them together so
that he could passionately suck their swell. Ever so
often, he'd give her little bites that left small
passion marks on her smooth, ivory skin.
She rode him faster, each thrust becoming
more urgent
and powerful and deep. She felt her climax
approaching, and sunk her teeth into the base of his
neck. Spike roared in response. Having his trademark
bite used on himself was, to him, very erotic. He
felt his control start to splinter, and if there was
one thing Spike loved to be, it was in control. He
grabbed onto her waist and stood up abruptly, still
inside of her. Willow yelped in surprise as he
carried her the few feet to the wall and shoved her
roughly up against it. His mouth went to work on her
neck, running his fangs along the tender flesh,
nipping and grazing while he continued to thrust into
her tight, hot embrace of his body. Their movements
had become more frantic and desperate as she ground
against him pushing deep inside her body. Neither
noticed the steady beat of the song still playing in
the background.
Surely must be you
Surely must be you
But I don't make you lonely
Willow's breath was ragged and gasping,
her body
throttling towards the edge. Her clit rubbed against
his cool body with every pump of his hips, producing
the most intoxicating friction. Her body began to
tremble, then she writhed wildly in his arms,
screaming his name with every surge of ecstasy that
crashed into her as she orgasmed.
I'll get over you
I'll get over you
But I don't make you lonely
Her nails dug into his back, clawing madly
and cutting
into his skin, most of them seeping blood. Spike
threw his head back as he approached his brink with
hers. Her walls gripped him tightly, the heat
flooding his senses and pushing him to his limits.
His sex ached and throbbed as she pulsated around him,
driving him insane with need.
With a loud roar, he shuddered hard as
he came. For
an instant, his vampire features masked his own, and
in the midst of their release he brought his face to
her neck and bit down hard, his sharp fangs slicing
into her. Willow cried out in pleasure and in pain,
his grip on her not loosening until each had ridden
out the last waves of orgasm.
I don't make you lonely
Spike staggered back onto the bed, this
time rolling
on top of her. He pulled reluctantly out of her
warmth and kissed her tenderly before returning to her
neck. Willow flinched for a moment, but relaxed as
she felt him gently lick the wound clean and she
realized that he wasn't going to drain her dry. Her
heartbeat gradually slowed to normal, and her usual
soft breathing returned. She threaded her arms around
his neck and held him. He looked into her face, and
she saw that his eyes had once again returned to their
natural oceanic blue. He kissed her softly, brushing
over her swollen lips.
"I thought you couldn't bite people...?"
she
whispered. Spike's gaze seemed seared to her own.
"Not out of hostility. But that was
far from hostile,
love," he soothed her, his voice quiet and gentle.
"Oh."
"Do you regret it? This?"
His eyes told her he was being sincere.
She chewed
thoughtfully on her lower lip.
"No," she decided. Spike smiled.
"I'm glad. I have feelings for you,
pet. Real
feelings, not just... this."
"You do?"
Spike chuckled. Her face looked so
hopeful and
innocent. He wondered how she always managed to
retain that sweetness about her.
"I do." A soft moment of silence
lingered until he
spoke again. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. The biting.
It sort of just..."
"You didn't," she smiled. "It's fine."
He rested his head on her shoulder, and
she was
contented to simply hold him and stroke his hair.
Everything felt so peaceful; holding him in her arms,
still basking in the afterglow...
Her face nuzzled his hair while her eyes
darted
absently to the alarm clock on her nightstand. She
gasped as the time registered in her mind. Spike had
been there for almost an hour. Buffy would be--
"Willow? Spike?"
Willow's eyes widened in horror as she
heard her best
friend's voice calling from below the balcony.
Quickly, she nudged the vampire sleeping in her arms.
"Spike!" she hissed a whisper at him. His eyes
fluttered open and looked at her curiously.
"What is it, pet?"
"Buffy! She's here!"
Spike jumped off of his mate faster than
Willow would
have thought possible.
"Bleedin' hell!" he whispered loudly.
"Willow? You up there?" Buffy's voice
called out once
again. Willow frantically tried to buy her and Spike
enough time to dress.
"Um--yeah, Buff, be right down!"
The pair scrambled for their clothes, Spike
pulling on
his boxers and jeans while Willow shimmied into her
panties and snapped on her bra. Spike grinned at her.
"Since when do you wear black lace?" he
laughed, his
face quickly meeting a thrown pillow.
After much stumbling and tripping over
one another,
most of which occurred during the search for Spike's
right boot that had been lost under the bed, they were
fully-clothed. Willow had chosen to wear a
sleeveless, leaf bud-green turtleneck sweater to hide
the bite mark, and powder-soft jeans. She had barely
finished tying the laces of her black Doc Marten's
when the slayer's head popped over the balcony
railing.
"Will? What's taking so long?" Buffy asked, puzzled.
"Oh! I--um... I had just gotten out
of the shower
when Spike came over," she stammered. Spike gulped.
"A-and I had to get dressed, and I was hungry.
Y'know, just gotten up, the whole breakfast thing, so
Spike waited for me because I was really starving and
stuff."
Buffy nodded slowly. "Oookay... just
hurry up, would
you?"
"Yeah!" Willow exclaimed, a little too
enthusiastically. Buffy only shook her head and
climbed down the ivy fence.
Willow let out a long, relieved sigh.
< Good, she
believed me... didn't she? > Her terrified thoughts
were interrupted as Spike planted a kiss on the top of
her head. Head. Hair. Hair!
Willow hurried over to her dressing table
and grabbed
her brush. Her hair had already dried, but she had
yet to make it look... decent for public viewing.
Spike watched as the flames were made to rest
smoothly, captivated as she then dipped her finger
into a pot of lip gloss and ran it over her lips,
causing them to shine brilliantly. She grabbed a
compact and seized hold of the small cotton makeup
puff, dusting her face lightly with a fine,
sweet-smelling powder. She frowned briefly at the
small sprinkling of freckles that covered her nose
before reaching for a shimmery khaki-coloured eye
shadow. After a few quick pats onto her lids with her
fingertips, she rose and went to get her
honey-coloured suede jacket.
"Ready," she squeaked out nervously.
"Right then, let's go," he smiled, wrapping
his arm
around her shoulders protectively as they descended
down the stairs. Willow grabbed her keys on their way
out the front door and locked up the house.
"Today, guys..."
Willow bit her lip at Buffy's slightly
annoyed voice.
Spike only shrugged, casting a small smile in Willow's
direction. The three of them began walking towards
the cemetery.
~Fin~