Spike slumped back against the bathtub, asking himself yet again how he'd managed to royally piss off the whole bloody pantheon of gods. A few he could understand, what with being a vampire and all, but it seemed like every last one had turned against him. That was the best explanation he could come up with for how his life had gotten so thoroughly fucked up over the last few years. As much as he would've loved to lay the blame for all of it at the Slayer's doorstep, he was forced to admit, if only to himself, that she really wasn't the reason Dru was catting around South America or part of the commando team that had shoved the hardware in his brain that was going to ruin whatever he had left of eternity.
No, the Slayer was to blame for a fair amount of it, but the rest was just fate shitting all over his head, like one of Dru's damned birds. He'd done something that he'd probably never know about that managed to tick off the universe and now he was paying for it. Spike just wished the payment had come more in the form of hot pokers or having his skin peeled off in one long strip. It would've been easier than his current predicament, being at the mercy of children, dependant on the kindness of humans for his dinner. Not to mention the Watcher's hospitality, which left a great deal to be desired.
The chains and cramped quarters were bad enough, but those he could deal with. The worst part was the loneliness, the isolation and the unending boredom. He'd been given a TV, but it was kept just out of reach so he had to get one of them to change the channel or even turn the damn thing on. And just to make matters worse, the Watcher's apartment seemed to have become a hive of activity, with the Slayer and her little pet humans trooping in and out at all hours.
Spike could hear their hearts beat out in the living room, listen to the bright chatter of voices and staccato bursts of laughter, and it was slowly driving him mad. He wasn't used to this, hadn't spent this much time alone since his turning, not even when he was being punished. Angelus had known about his dislike of solitude and used to banish him as part of his many sadistic 'lessons', but never for more than a night or two. He'd spent two weeks in the bathroom by now, and he was starting to welcome the times that the Slayer stalked in to threaten him. At least then he wasn't completely alone, even if he'd rather have traded her for her little witchy roommate.
The witch. She fairly reeked of misery these days, strong enough that he could almost smell it away in here, a delicious scent second only to her terror. She'd been a right treat that night he'd kidnapped her, and if he'd had any sense at all, he'd have taken the time to properly enjoy it. He closed his eyes and pulled up the memory of her, the way her voice had trembled and her hands had shaken as she faced him. God, he missed that!
A sudden throb from his crotch made him groan and he realized that he'd gotten hard thinking about the little witch in the factory. He reached down to adjust himself, the brief contact only making him harder, reminding him how long it had been since he'd had any decent sex. Fuck, this was verging on torture, now! The thought of taking care of it himself occurred to him, but without being able to lock the door he had no way to guarantee his privacy. That would be just his luck, to have one of the damn Scoobies walk in on him while he was wanking. Of course, they usually only came in here to feed him or make with the nightly interrogation and both of those things were still a few hours off yet...
His body had made the decision for him while he was still arguing it through, fingers working quickly to undo his pants and pull his erection out. Wrapping his hand around his dick, Spike leaned his head back against the tiles and closed his eyes. He thought about that night at the factory again, pictured that ridiculous fuzzy pink sweater and thought about feeling her up over it, discovering all those curves he knew she'd been hiding. He imagined her fear giving way to arousal as he teased her, thought about shoving that little skirt up and slipping his hand down between her legs.
"Oh, yeah," he groaned softly, hand working faster as he let the fantasy take shape. She'd cry and beg him not to hurt her, afraid of the passion within herself that he knew he could tap. He pictured her mouth falling open when he touched her, wondered what she'd sound like when she came for him. Would she shriek or moan or just shudder when it took hold of her? He tightened his grip, thinking about how she would've wrapped around him. She was probably still a virgin then, would've strangled his dick with her pussy, so tight that-
A gasp echoed in his ears, tearing him out of the factory and dumping him back in the bathtub. Spike's head jerked up and he turned to see the same girl he'd been thinking about standing in front of the bathroom door. Fuck, how the hell had that happened? He swallowed hard, wondering if he should apologize or pretend he hadn't seen her when he smelled it. The first faint traces of a musky scent that hinted at much more than he was sure she was even aware of.
Blue eyes locked with green, one pair dark and hazy with arousal, the other wide and stunned at the scene she'd walked into. He waited for her to scream and bring the Slayer or Watcher running to stake him, but she just stared, eyes widening as she looked at him. Spike started to take his hand away when he heard her whisper, "Don't."
So, the little witch wanted a show, did she? He'd reckon she'd never seen a man get himself off before and could see how that might make her curious. Hell, he'd be surprised if she'd done anything wilder than get on top with the wolf. There was probably still a helluva lot left to teach her about sex, and he sure as hell didn't mind adding to her experiences.
But if he was going to perform, he was going to make damn sure she never forgot it. Taking his hand off his cock, Spike shoved his jeans down off his hips, chains rattling as he wriggled until they were pushed down to his knees, baring his cock and balls fully to her gaze. He teased himself a little now, drawing one finger up his length and circling around the tip, hissing in pleasure as a single drop of fluid appeared.
Spreading the liquid around with his thumb, he slowly curled his hand around his shaft, fisting himself in a loose grip. Since this was almost definitely never happening again, he needed to make it last. He wanted to talk to her, tell her about the things he'd been thinking about before she interrupted him, ask her what she was thinking as she watched him stroke himself, but he bit his tongue, holding the words back in case they somehow broke the strange spell that seemed to have settled over her. He settled for showing her, hand languidly moving over his dick in slow strokes that left him gasping for air.
God, it was so good, but he needed to move! Spike slowly pushed his hips forward, fucking his fist the way he wanted to fuck her. Precome slicked his hand, making it easier to pretend, and he started moving a little faster, squeezing harder when he saw her eyes dilate at the sight of his cock appearing and disappearing with each thrust. He was getting close now, so close...
She licked her lips, and it was all he needed. He bucked up, thrusting hard into his hand, then moaned as he came in long spurts that spattered his shirt and coated his fist in creamy white silk. She gasped, the scent of her arousal practically doubling with his orgasm. Oh, yeah. This was a show she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.
Spike gave his cock one last caress before he carefully tucked it back in his jeans. He knew exactly when she realized where she was, what she'd just seen and who she'd seen doing it, because she went red to her hairline and immediately whirled around, hand shooting out to take hold of the doorknob. Just before she opened it, Spike said in a low voice, "Think about me when you're alone in bed later, Red."
She stiffened, then wrenched the door open and fled, his laughter ringing in her ears as it chased her from the room.
It was hopeless. Willow had been tossing and turning for the last hour and a half, trying to find a comfortable position and go to sleep. But every time she thought she'd succeeded, she'd close her eyes and see Spike. She couldn't seem to get the image of him out of her mind, and it was driving her up the wall.
She hadn't meant to walk in on him doing... that, and knew she should've closed the door and left him alone as soon as she realized what he was up to, but she hadn't been able to help herself. Who'd have thought that it could be so erotic to watch a man masturbate? Or maybe it was just Spike, who seemed to be able to make almost anything sexually charged, from walking down the street to drinking blood or even being depressed that he couldn't bite her. Either way, it had stirred something inside her, woken a longing for more even though she knew it was impossible.
But if it weren't... Willow sighed and turned onto her back, thinking again about the way Spike had wrapped his hand around his- around himself, about his eyes as they'd darkened while he worked himself, about the hard thrust of pale skin that had jutted up from the black clothing he always wore. It had seemed larger than the others she'd seen, like one of the toys she remembered whispering about in high school instead of actual human flesh and blood. And while he wasn't human, he'd been born with a human body and she doubted becoming a vampire would change that part of a man.
He'd stroked himself so slowly, almost like he didn't care about climaxing right away. Did that mean he'd touch someone he was in bed with like that? She thought it might. What would it be like, to have those hands on her body, to be the focus of that single-minded need she'd glimpsed in those last moments before he came? One hand drifted up to stroke a breast through her pajama top, fingers idly caressing herself the way she remembered Spike's hands moving. When her nipple hardened, sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine, it was almost secondary to the growing warmth that was slowly creeping over her body.
The memory of Spike's hand working over his hard flesh made her squirm, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slide her free hand down inside her pants. Fingers brushed over cotton, and she could almost imagine they were Spike's, that he'd somehow gotten free of his restraints and come hunting her. Would he, if he could? Or would it be Buffy that he really wanted, just like everyone else? She thought about his hands tightening around himself, about the way he'd bucked up into his hand, and how his eyes had darkened when he'd finally let go, and as the panties under her hand grew damp, she decided that just for tonight, she'd give in.
She thought about Spike slipping into her bed in the middle of the night, about waking up to his hands already driving her crazy with need. Would he leave her dressed at first, or strip her while she still slept? There was no question that he'd want her naked eventually. Pressing her fingers a little harder against herself, she sighed and shifted on the bed, opening her legs a little further, as though to invite a lover between them. The movement thrust her breast harder into her hand, and she closed around it fully, the diamond-hard nipple digging into her palm.
A hard squeeze was enough to make her legs fall completely open, and she could imagine Spike's smile. Flattening her fingers, Willow began to rub faster, pushing against the cotton barrier as the small sparkles of pleasure began to grow. The cloth was noticeably wet now, and when she raised her hips up against her hand, it got wetter still. Before she could talk herself out of it, she moved her hand down under her panties, gasping with the first contact of fingers on her wet skin. Would Spike have teased her like this, or would he simply stroke her until she hovered on the edge of climax? Would he want to see her come, or make her beg for him to fuck her?
Grinding the heel of her hand against the damp patch of hair, she rubbed her fingers faster against her slick folds, biting her lip to hold back a moan when the first electric shock of real need shot up her spine. She remembered Spike's hand closed around his... God, his cock. Just thinking the word made her feel all sorts of hot and needy. He'd been so hard, and she'd watched the tip get wet as he stroked, and wondered what it would taste like. Oz hadn't ever asked, but once she'd convinced him to let her try. He hadn't pulled her off right away or complained about her lack of skills, but he didn't come, either, just let her lick and suck until he reached down to bring her back up on the bed so he could slide inside her.
Thinking about it now, she realized she'd wanted more. She wanted to see what it was like to make a man come just with her mouth. What would Spike have done if she'd walked over to the tub and knelt down to take him inside like that? She bucked up against her hand as she thought about closing her lips around him, licking that shiny wetness from the head of his cock, and sucking him until he came. The long white spurts that had shot out of the tip had held her hypnotized, fascinated at the thought of feeling the silky strands that covered his shirt on her skin. She wiggled a little more, then gasped as the knot in her stomach tightened and a fresh burst of moisture coated her fingertips.
Dimly she realized that she should try to be quieter. Buffy could wake up at any second, and the thought of her roommate and best friend seeing her writhing on the bed like a total skank definitely wasn't a happy one. But at the same time, the thought of being caught sent a tingle through her. What if it wasn't Buffy who caught her, but Spike, walking in on her like she had him? Would he watch as she made herself come, the way she had watched him, or crawl onto the bed and take over? She knew he probably wouldn't be content to just watch, although the thought of hot eyes on her was enough to make her start thrusting up against her fingers in a regular rhythm.
She could feel heat crawling slowly up her legs as she got closer to orgasm, and she remembered Spike's hand sliding over his cock, his eyes never looking away from her even when he came. He'd been quiet about it, although the way he bit his lip she thought maybe he hadn't wanted to be. She wondered if she could've made him groan if she'd taken the action she wanted to. Would he have forgotten about noise if she wrapped her hand around him and stroked?
The thought of Spike moaning and arching under her touch had her fingers rubbing over her quick and hard. She could almost hear the low sound in her ear as she thrust up against her hand, hissing at the way her nipples hardened to painful points with the pictures her mind conjured up. He'd moaned when he came, she remembered that, how his cock had twitched and come shot out to cover his shirt and hand, one hard spurt and several smaller others that dripped down over his fingers onto his jeans. Had he managed to clean up before anyone found out? What would he have said if she offered to lick him clean?
A sharp twist of her hips sent her fingers sliding right over her clit, and she bit down hard on her lip as her whole body tightened and shook in a pleasure so intense that it verged on pain. This wasn't the soft sensations she felt when Oz touched her, or the gentle ease that she'd given herself- it was boiling hot, and there was no getting away from it. Like lightning, it sizzled over her nerves before it faded, leaving her still achy and wanting something more. Something Spike-shaped, to be exact.
Willow slid her hand out of her panties, slowly releasing her breast as she relaxed against the bed. Her body hummed in a pleasant vibration that she instinctively knew was only the beginning of the feelings it was capable of, but right now, it was nice. She closed her eyes and wondered if maybe one day she'd get the chance to act on some of her thoughts, her lips curving in a smile as she drifted off to sleep, already knowing that her dreams would be filled with a bleached blond vampire.
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