CoF - Laure Alexander - TEAOW&S - Movie and a Dinner

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: NC-17, BDSM.
PAIRINGS: Willow/Spike
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
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With an angry grunt, Willow pulled off the fourth outfit of the evening, tossing it on her bed. Glancing up from flipping through the latest issue of Vogue, Buffy sighed. "What was wrong with that one?"

"Why does everything I own look like my mother bought it at Sears about twenty years ago?"

"Will, that dress you just discarded came from The Limited. I was there when you bought it, remember?"

"It just isn't right." Frustrated, Willow began to paw through her closet again.

"I know you haven't been out with him for a long time, but you're acting like this is your first date," Buffy said with a laugh.

"It is our first date." Willow pulled out a mint green wisp of chiffon and frowned out it.

Snorting, Willow pulled the dress over her head, muffling her voice in the folds of cloth. "We've never really been out on a real date. You know, movie and a dinner..."

"Movies are in nice windowless buildings." She straightened the dress over her hips and turned to look in the mirror. It fell in a straight line from the cap sleeves to mid calf where it ended in a handkerchief hem. Painted across the bodice and around under one arm was a trail of faded roses. "So, we do that first, thanks to the stupid sun staying up until half way through the evening."

Willow sighed and turned back and forth in front of the mirror, frowning heavily. "So, we have to meet in the theater. I don't know. Does this look right?"

"You look gorgeous. That color is perfect, and I love the rose design. So, what movie are you going to see?"

"Well..." Willow grinned and dug in her closet for shoes. "He did groan when I mentioned it. I think he would have preferred Phantom Menace, but I'm not in the mood for mile long lines and fanboys."

Spike stood just inside the lobby of the theater, glancing at his watch every five seconds and staying out of the stray beams of sunlight coming from the stupidly placed skylights. He'd come up through the electrical tunnels into a utility closet and managed to blend with the exiting crowds of the afternoon shows in order to buy two tickets, but had been waiting for ten minutes past their scheduled time to meet.

Shaking his head at how pathetic his thoughts were, Spike glanced at his watch again and gave a breathless sigh, then looked at the tickets in his other hand. Hugh Grant? Julia Roberts? When had he become a nancy boy?

As his eyes returned to the doors, a vision in green entered, and he silently answered to himself. When a little, red-haired vixen had snuck her way into his heart.

"Sorry I'm late," Willow apologized, running her eyes over him and silently approving of his dark gray slacks and white band-collar shirt. Leaning up, she kissed him lightly.

"This old thing?" She gave him a mischievous smile and tucked her arm through his, leading him towards the ticket takers.

"Okay, it wasn't a horrible movie," Spike conceded as they exited the theater into the balmy night and walked towards her car. "And, it was nice to see London."

"Oh...must have been back in the late 70's. When the punk scene became that new wave crap, I split."

"I've always wanted to go to England. All that history, and the museums, Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, and..." Willow flushed. "I sound like a geek."

"A gorgeous geek." He grinned and hugged her to his side. "Nelson--the guy in Trafalgar--was a ponce. Wellington, now there was a leader. Bigger than life, he was."

"You knew the Duke of Wellington?" Her awe was real, as she realized that there was still a lot she didn't know about him.

As he helped her into the car, taking the keys from her to drive to the Italian restaurant, Spike continued his story. "Angel had tons of money and some made up Irish title that let us move through the ton. I even dined with the Prince Regent once, you know, the fat git who became George the fourth. It was at his house in Brighton. Spent all the tax money on it and it still looked some Moroccan brothel."

"I didn't realize. I mean, I guess I thought you just knew other vampires and stuff."

"Angel was a lot different back then. He liked to pretend he was human and insert himself in peoples' lives. Of course, it was really easy to do back then, before the days of computers and background checks. He had the money, the education and upbringing to pull off a fake title."

"What about you? I know you went to Oxford and were training to be a priest." Willow giggled at that, then continued, "Were you a noble?"

"Nah, I was an Honorable." At her look of incomprehension, Spike continued. "My father was a baron. No one of any real importance, but he owned a lot of land in Cheshire and we had a lot of money. I was the third son, destined for the church. The Honorable William Francis Harold Addington." He chuckled softly. "One thing that Angelus always hated, him with all his pretensions and everything, was that I outranked him. He was only the son of a merchant. Sure, he was descended from the Old English aristocracy..."

Spike flashed her a grin and continued, "The Irish like to forget that it was one of their own that invited the English into their country in the first place. Some Irish king needed help with an enemy and brought in a bunch of English soldiers, that just stayed. They were the Old English, Catholics. A lot of them intermarried with the Irish Catholics and formed many of the old families, including Angel's. Then, in the late sixteenth century, the Plantations began. Protestant English were given land in Ireland, mostly the north. England was now a Protestant country and wanted to abolish Catholicism. To keep the Irish down, even the formerly English Catholics, they instituted a lot of punitive laws."

"Anyway, Angel only got an education because his grandfather managed to become wealthy by building a small shipping line. I'm sure Angel would have frittered away the wealth if he'd ever inherited it. But, he had no title, and no chance of ever getting one. Unlike me. If I'd done as he wanted and slaughtered my family, I could have been Baron Addington."

Spike shrugged and pulled into the parking lot. "Didn't see any point. They never came to London. My father was involved in only local politics and never once took his seat in the Lords, and my eldest brother was just like him. Thomas, the second son, was in the army and spent most of his time drunk, so I could have walked right past him and he wouldn't have recognized me."

He stopped the car and got out, then opened Willow's door and helped her out. Holding hands, they walked towards the restaurant.

"Two that survived past childhood. Mary was the eldest child and I never really knew her. She was married by the time I was out of the nursery. Catherine was a year younger than me, and quite the Hellion. You remind me of her sometimes. She was very intelligent and determined. Earned herself a number of beatings by talking back to father, or for tearing her dresses chasing me up trees and riding astride."

The conversation paused as the entered the restaurant and were led to a cozy booth. Spike ordered a bottle of Chianti, and they glanced at the menus.

"What happened to Catherine?" Willow asked after she had chosen her dinner from the long list of fattening sounding foods.

Setting aside his menu, Spike leaned back in the booth and smiled slightly. "Angel hated that I kept track of my family. I never saw them again, never communicated with them in any way. I don't know. Maybe he thought he'd lose me to them or something. Anyway, I did keep track of what happened to all of them. I didn't mourn their deaths or celebrate their lives, but..." He shrugged helplessly. "They once meant a lot to me."

The wine arrived and the waiter poured them each a glass, then took their orders--veal parmigiana for Spike and four cheese ravioli for Willow.

"Good. I wouldn't want you to dust when I kiss you later." She wrinkled her nose at him, smiling. "So, back to Catherine..."

"She had a good life, I think. Married a neighboring land owner, a baronet, and had half a dozen kids. She lived to see several grandkids climbing the trees we used to climb."

"She was." Sipping more of his wine, Spike changed the subject. "So, what's it like being an only child?"

"Actually...it's kind of lonely. I think that's why I've only had a few really close friends in my life. You'd think it would be the opposite, but, for me, I had trouble socializing since I didn't have any siblings to deal with. My parents were firm believers in not just zero population, but minus, so I never had the chance for a brother or sister."

"I suppose...I should meet your parents some time," Spike broached the subject delicately.

"Yeah. Um...I better pave the way. I don't think they realize that I like boys yet." She gave him a smirky smile and drank some of her wine. "I think we should keep your real identity a secret."

The meal was wonderful. Spike helped himself to half of Willow's ravioli, and she retaliated by taking the last bite of veal. They finished the bottle of wine, and ordered coffee with their tiramasu.

"Oh, this is heavenly," Willow sighed after taking a bite of the creamy dessert.

She took another bite, then sipped her coffee, before bringing up a subject they had both been avoiding. "So, what happened the other night, on your return."

Slowly Spike set his coffee cup down, then looked at her with hooded eyes. "I told you on the phone that everything was fine. That Angel had accepted me back into the clan and back at his side."

"And I don't believe for a minute that Angel would do anything altruistic without getting something in return," she returned, giving him a stubborn look.

Her soft, sad answer made him shake his head. "I didn't do it for you, Willow. I told you that."

"Yeah, that you needed to be back in the clan to be with Drusilla, that Angel won't let you leave town anyway, so you might as well be at his side. I'm sure those are both part of it, but..."

He sighed again, and sipped his coffee, stalling, but finally gave in. "You're right. At his side, I have a better chance of changing his mind and, if that fails, I have a better chance of...claiming you. I'll already have fought everyone I can fight, so no one but Angel will dispute my claim on you."

Not wanting to think about that, Willow brought the topic back to Angel. "What happened with Angel?"

"And that means." Spike's look told her what she needed to know, and she flushed, dropping her eyes. "Did he hurt you?"

"Willow, it's okay." Reaching across the table, he took her hands, squeezing them gently. "It was to be expected. If I hadn't been crippled, it would have happened a lot sooner."

"Did I like being submissive to my sire for the first time in a hundred years? No. But, I did it, and I can keep doing it. I don't have a choice. Not a real one, at least."

Willow nodded and gave him a rueful look before determinedly smiling and picking up her fork. "So, are you taking me home and giving me a chaste peck on the cheek after this, our first date?"

They didn't go to her house. Spike pulled the car into the parking lot of a small, quiet apartment complex.

"My place. I rented it yesterday and with the high turnover in this town, it was available immediately." Taking her hand, he led her into one of the buildings and down the stairs to a door. "It's just for us, luv. I have to live at the mansion, but we can come here, meet here." Unlocking the door, he led her inside, turning on the lights. "It's not much," he said, shrugging apologetically.

"It's nice. Secluded." The main room had a couch and table with one lamp. "Can I help you buy furniture?"

Willow walked past him and down the short hall to the one bedroom. Turning on the light, she swept her eyes across the dresser, night stand, and really large bed. "I see that. The essential pieces."

Spike came up behind her. "Well, I thought you might like to bring a change of knickers or something, to leave here, so a dresser was important, and, well..."

"The bed." Willow flipped him a grin and walked over to the bed. It was king size with a cast iron bedframe that had high posts with a canopy frame, and was covered with a pale blue and gray comforter. "So...just how strong is this frame?" she asked while wrapping one hand around a post.

"Shall we find out," Spike murmured, sliding his arms around her waist and pressing against her back.

A shiver of desire went through her and she leaned against him. "It's been so long," she whispered.

"I was hoping you'd feel that way." He opened a drawer in the dresser and drew out a set of delicate gold chains. At the sight of them dangling from his hands, Willow's mouth went dry. "I think you'll look quite lovely in these.

Unable to speak, Willow nodded, surrendering eagerly to the lust blossoming within her.

Quickly Willow removed her dress, draping it over the dresser, then stepped out of her shoes, leaving her in a thin, cream silk chemise that fell barely to mid thigh. Spike stopped her from removing it, but slid his hand up her leg and tugged her panties down. As she stepped out of them, he grasped one slender wrist and affixed the ornate manacle around it. After chaining the other wrist , leaving about a foot of slack between the two, Spike lifted her to the bed, then fettered her ankles with the other set of restraints. A slender chain went from the middle of one set to the other, resting lightly on her stomach and between her trembling legs.

Turning from the enticing picture she presented, bound and helpless on his bed, her red hair spread across the pillows, Spike lit several candles, then turned off the overhead light. A portable stereo sat on the dresser and he hit play. A mellow love song sounded into the quiet room. Slowly he removed his shirt, then toed off his shoes. He made a show of pulling the belt through the loops, then doubling it between his hands and tugging.

Willow's breathing turned to sharp pants and her whole body tingled in anticipation.

Unfolding the belt, Spike trailed the buckle end slowly down her body from her breasts to thighs. She shivered at the touch of the cool metal and spread her legs as wide as she could. Skillfully, he used the buckle to catch the lace border of her chemise and draw it up to her hip. Leaning down, he placed a light kiss on the bared skin.

Spike dropped the belt next to her, then climbed on the bed, straddling her hips. His fingers found the ties on the front of her chemise and he slowly undid them. Spreading the bodice open he watched her breasts pop free, her nipples pebbled in anticipation of his touch.

Instead of granting her silent plea as she arched her back and whimpered, Spike reached in his pocket and pulled out two small objects, holding them up for her to see. "Make them harder."

Her breath catching in her throat, Willow's fingers found her nipples and pulled and twisted. Heat flooded her and she moaned his name, her eyes wide and wild.

Smiling, Spike pushed her fingers away and attached the alligator clips to her nipples, delighting in her whimpers of pain. Moving off of her he turned her onto her stomach, then raised her to her hands and knees. The weights on the clips dragged her breasts down and she squirmed.

"Sopping," she moaned, digging her fingers into the bedding as she felt moisture leak down her legs.

His hands pushed the chemise up over her hips, baring her bottom to his avid gaze. He caressed her firm flesh, kneading the cheeks, then leaned down and ran his tongue down her crack. Willow yelled and bucked, trying to drive his tongue deeper.

"Do you know one thing I love the most about you?" Spike murmured as he nipped at one cheek.

"How just the thought of me fucking you makes you so wet." As he spoke, his voice hot with need, he unzipped his pants and positioned himself behind her, spreading her legs as wide as they would go. As she wriggled against him, he let his cock slide along her wet cleft, rubbing the tip against her clit and making her moan even harder.

Spike caught her wriggling hips in his hands and thrust forward, sliding easily into her. As he reached the edge of her womb, they both groaned and Willow squeezed her inner muscles. With her legs only about a foot apart, she was tighter than normal and Spike gasped and shook at the physical pleasure that slammed through him.

Slowly he began a steady rhythm, driving shallowly into her, watching her shoulders shake, her back arch as her hips twisted back against him. Gradually he sped up the thrusts, feeling white heat shoot through his balls, until with a deep growl he spilled himself inside her.

As he withdrew, Willow shook from head to toe, panting for air. Regaining his equilibrium, Spike rose to his feet and stepped out of his pants. His cock was still half hard and he cupped it, caressing the wet flesh.

When he was erect again, he took her shoulder and lifted her onto her knees. Her face was bright red, her eyes glazed with lust. Her nipples were elongated, the aureoles nearly purple from constriction. Her hands clenched on her thighs, but she made no move to touch herself.

Morphing, Spike took one claw and slit the silk garment at each shoulder, then down the front. As he returned to his human form, he pulled the remains of her, and grinned as her breasts heaved with unrequited passion. He looked down at her spread legs and caught a glimpse of glistening red curls, then watched her stomach undulate, her body just on the edge of orgasm.

Reaching behind her, he unclipped the chain from between the manacles at her ankles, then pulled it from beneath her and up above her head, tugging her arms up. He climbed on the bed, then locked the end around the canopy frame, leaving her just barely on her knees.

Willow's breasts thrust forward and down, her back arched, and the scent of her arousal filled the room.

Rising from the bed again, Spike picked up the belt and moved to stand behind her. Shuddering in anticipation, Willow licked her dry lips and let her head fall forward. His hand brushed over her back, moving her long braid over her shoulder.

"Don't come," he ordered thickly, then cracked the leather across her bottom, making her jerk and moan in pain. He hit her again and again, concentrating the blows on her bottom which began to turn a bright red. Her moans turned to soft cries and she clenched her hands into fists, tugging on the chains, as her body twisted under the belt.

After two dozen blows, Spike dropped the belt and grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as uncontrollable lust washed over him. As he slammed his cock inside her, he whispered harshly in her ear, "Don't come," before pounding to a fast, wild orgasm.

As his cock softened, he staggered around to the side of the bed and collapsed on his back. Languidly he ran his eyes up her shaking body, noting the flush of color and the perspiration on her skin. Her face was bright red, her eyes wide and unseeing. She panted unevenly.

"Please," she begged pitifully, trying to squeeze her thighs together to get some friction.

He frowned at her and she forced her eyes to lower as her hands unconsciously struggled, making the chains clink. Spike rose and unhooked the chain from the canopy, then lay back down, tugging her across him. She winced as her breasts rubbed across his knees, then gasped as he pulled her mouth down to his groin.

"Let's find a better use for that mouth." One hand holding the chain and her hands on his stomach, the other caught the nape of her neck and guided her mouth to his cock.

Resigned and trying to ignore the throbbing, burning need between her legs, Willow ran her tongue along the length of his staff, tasting their combined secretions. As she licked him, she felt the flesh beneath her tongue harden, and wrapped her lips around the tip, sucking avidly. Spike's cock rose steadily in her mouth, and she silently gave thanks to the sexual regenerative abilities of vampires.

Lifting her mouth free, she ran nipping kisses down the underside, then circled her tongue around his heavy balls, before returning to the now weeping tip. Taking a deep breath, Willow engulfed him, sliding his cock to the edge of her throat, her tongue fluttering against the hard, throbbing flesh.

Spike growled and tugged her head up, then flipped her onto her back. With shaking hands he freed one of her ankles and spread her legs wide. Lowering his head, he ran his tongue up her dripping cleft, avoiding her distended and obviously sore clit. Stiffening his tongue, he stabbed it inside her and was rewarded with her knees clasping his head, and her ragged voice gasping his name. He fucked her with his tongue for several minutes, tasting her heady secretions, his nose brushing her swollen flesh and making her moan, then he lifted himself up and over her.

As he moved over her, Willow arched her back and wrapped her legs around his thighs. Spike grabbed her hips, angling her against him, then drove his cock into her hot depths. Willow mewled and twisted beneath him. Lifting her bound wrists over his head, she clutched at his shoulders as best she could, trying to hold him inside her.

Growling low in his throat with lust, Spike thrust hard and fast, pounding her bucking body into the bed. Willow responded with equal fervor, grinding herself against him. Their mouths met in a deep, carnal kiss, as the moved together, making the bed creak and groan with their exertions.

Willow was sore and hot and full of mindless need, but she continued to grind her throbbing clit against the base of his cock as the tension grew deep inside her. Finally, just as she thought she'd go insane, she felt her muscles stiffen and she gripped his neck tightly, gasping for air.

With a silent scream, she came, spasming uncontrollably beneath him, her vaginal muscles nearly pulverizing his cock as they gripped it. Her entire body shuddered and collapsed limply on the tangled bedding, her hands falling back over her head.

Watching the emotions play across her face, feeling her inner muscles fluttering against his cock, Spike thrust a few more times, building towards his own climax, then flung his head back and grunted her name, before pouring his semen into her hot channel. Sighing in pleasure, he levered himself onto his back next to her, and they both lay still, Willow panting, Spike with a big grin on his face.

"Masochist," Spike teased back, then rose to his knees and gently removed the alligator clips, massaging her aureoles until the angry color began to fade. Reaching for the manacles around her wrists, he unhooked them, then followed suit with the remaining one at her ankle. He frowned slightly at the bruises and abrasions forming in circles on her delicate skin. "I need to get these padded." He tossed the chains on the floor.

Tired, but still exhilarated, Willow pushed herself up to the head of the bed and crawled beneath the comforter. "What would be the point of that?"

Joining her and tucking the blanket around her back, Spike pulled her into his arms and took one wrist, placing a gentle kiss on a nasty red mark. "You hurt yourself."

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

Laure Alexander - lara@sunflower.com

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