The Big Bad

By Hush
Under My Skin 4

The harsh lyrics and rhythm of heavy metal beat the walls of the garage. Sweat and grease covered Spike's face and hands as he rattled around under the front end of Willow's Thunderbird.

"The things some blokes do for Tits & Ass," he muttered, positioning the wrench on a nut and giving it a particularly vicious tug. The wrench slipped and Spike cut his hand on something sharp. "Bugger!"

Two days... A lot could happen in two days. In two days the world could end. In two days, he could kill over two hundred people. In two days, a certain redhead could grab hold of a bloke's nuts and twist them round and round till they were ready to pop off.

Two days and he hadn't even gotten the effin' blow job she'd promised. Two days, and here he was slaving away under her car like some bloody grease monkey in order to get the heap o' trash running properly. "Sorry sod I am," he grumbled.

"Are you?" an impish voice asked as a light weight settled on his lap. Spike yelped and dropped the wrench, damn near pounding his brains out on the engine.

"What the?!" He looked and caught a glimpse of red hair and green eyes peering at him under the car. Confidently, Willow straddled his lap like a saddle. Spike immediately pushed out from under the car, moving smoothly along the garage floor with the strength of his arms. As soon as his torso and head were clear, Willow leaned forward and draped her body over his sprawled form.

Staring into her eyes, he spied mischief and malice in the emerald depths. "Cor Red, make some noise next time." Mentally, he cursed. A human shouldn't have been able to sneak up on him. A brief, sloppy kiss landed on the side of his mouth. Spike instantly wiped away the red smear she left on his cheek with the back of his hand.

She smelled clean, of soap and shampoo. Strands of damp hair clung to her nape, telling Spike that she had come straight over from a shower. Damn but he was pleased to see her. It had been nearly 24 hours since their last encounter, and he hadn't gotten laid then either.

His music switched off as she reached for the boom box. "If you played your music any louder, the entire Legion could march up on you unannounced," she informed him dryly. She sat up.

"What the fuck is the Legion?" he asked but was too distracted to even care about the answer. Willow leaned over and grabbed her bag. She rummaged through it and extracted a small red bottle before tossing the backpack aside.

"What's that?" Spike demanded suspiciously.

"You'll see," she purred. She knelt and moved further down his prone form until she straddled his upper thighs. Spike's hips nearly exploded off the cement floor as she reached for his fly and his entire body jumped. Finally...!!!

Her generous mouth parted as she licked at her lips and her fingernails trailed lightly over that tempting bulge in his jeans. "I promised you something," she teased, digging her fingernails into his denim-encased cock. It was brutal. He loved it.

"Damn right you did an' it's time to pay the Piper, Red." He smirked, making a point of acting cavalier. He didn't give a rat's arse if she blew him or gum.

"Yeah right," said her look. A lesser demon might have wept as Willow eased down the zipper of his tight fitting black jeans. She slipped two fingers inside to press down his cock and yanked the zipper the rest of the way open. Spike moaned.

Fuck oh fuck oh fuck! He was more than ready to give it the old one-two! Open up baby! Blow that whistle and full steam ahead! Choo choo! Here came the Spike Express number five!!

His exuberant cock trampolined into her open hands. "Oooh!" she cooed. "It's so cute!"

His fists slapped the cement floor causing a crack and Spike's closed eyes sprang open. "Bollocks!" he exclaimed, immensely insulted. "More there than you've seen the likes of before." Chipless, he would have ripped out her throat for such a slight.

"If you say so," she replied with the distinct note of humoring. Her eyes glinted wickedly. "You're just like a Shetland pony hung like a Clydesdale." She grasped his straining cock and massaged the soft flesh of his iron length.

"Damn right an' don't you imply otherwise." His sex-crazed mind missed that she had gotten away with calling his stature small. He had fixated on her first slur. The Big Bad didn't take that sort of shit from anyone... especially a woman who had to use both hands to grasp all of him.

"Wouldn't dream of it." She giggled and squeezed Spike hard enough to force the blood out of his dick and into his body. His face blurred into game face and he growled a low warning but he managed to keep it hard and keep it up. Finally, she grunted and let go of his cock.

Willow grabbed the small red bottle and uncapped it. Spike watched with detachment while she upended the bottle and smeared his member with something slimy and cold. It reeked of cinnamon. "What the hell is that?"

"Flavored massage oil," she replied, lowering her face with her tongue extended. "It heats up with friction. On humans it gets pretty hot, so I figure it might just make a vampire combust." She exhaled heavily on him.

"Great! Now I'm being used-AHHHHHHHH AH AH! OH MAN! SHIT!" It was hot.

The very tip of her dexterous tongue circled the crown of his cock. "Say please," she demanded, caressing that tip with her supple lips as she pressed a little kiss upon him. "I want you to beg."

"Nuh uh." He wasn't begging for that little bit of teasing but he was enjoying the show. Willow looked good bent over his prick with her red locks falling about her face. She wore a tight leather skirt and a low cut blouse, which he could see straight down from his vantage point.

Her talented tongue swirled slowly about the head of his cock and her hands slid down his length with a long, sure stroke. One cradled his sac and the other strayed even deeper between his thighs. Spike jumped as a single digit wedged into his crease and then another. "Peaches, pet, luv, ducks, sweets..."

In a fit of pique, Willow slapped his dick. Hard. Her hand slammed down onto his cock, smashing it into his rock solid abdomen. "Bloody hell!" Spike hissed.

"Mistress or Willow," she admonished.

"Oi, nice girls aren't supposed to know...know." His voice trembled as her fingers applied firm expert pressure to his sensitive prostate. His eyes crossed. "Oi..."

"I'm not a nice girl." She smirked at his incoherence and opened her lips, taking his cock into her mouth. Hissing and groaning, Spike thrust toward her and she consumed him.

She was right, she was right. The oil that coated his dick heated up like a broiler oven as it came into contact with friction, saliva, and the warmth of a mortal mouth. It had been a damn long while since the Big Bad had violated a human's mouth and throat.

She gave some of the best head he had ever gotten. Nearly beside himself with delirium, Spike couldn't understand how the petite redhead had mastered fellatio to such an extent. His unraveling mind calculated decades if not centuries of experience. Willow's skill rivaled even Drusilla's. He wondered if her face bore the same expression of dreamy submission Dru had always worn.

Spike checked and Willow's expression wasn't anywhere close to submission. It was masterful. She was intent and aroused, getting off on the searing heat and pressure searing his cock to ash. She noticed his glance and her expression hardened with sadism. Cruelly, she just stopped. Her mouth withdrew and her hand grabbed the base of his cock hard to cut off an orgasm.

He snarled low in warning and her palm slapped his dick again. WHACK. His balls bounced like ping pong balls. "OW! FUCK!" Spike howled.

"Beg me Spike," she purred, still fondling his quivering member. "Say pretty please an' I'll let you come." She coddled him as he thrust toward her but denied him further contact with her lips and tongue until he said the words she wanted to hear.

Spike growled again but Willow refused to yield to his yellow glare. She wouldn't give in and waiting was hurting Spike a hell of a lot more than it was hurting her. "Please," he forced the word past his razor sharp teeth.

"Good boy." Her laughter floated on the air about them and she bent again. Engulfed. Heat. He suffered a second death and rebirth. He stopped and he started all over again. Spike closed his eyes and finally found the true meaning of being flogged as she beat the unloving crap out of the ol' Big & Bad.

He came. And sweet Jesus Christ and Mary, did he come. His balls tightened and the pressure built until his cock erupted, blowing his wad so hard that it might have gone into orbit. It was a miracle Willow didn't have a hole in the back of her head. The violence of his orgasm activated his bleeding chip, causing so much pain that William the Bloody passed out.

Afterward, Spike woke with a splitting headache, still sprawled out on the cold cement floor. His pants were open and pushed past his hips. Cum pooled on the garage floor beneath him. Willow hadn't swallowed.

A scrapping sound startled him and Spike opened his eyes. His head hurt too much to move. Seeing that he was all right, Willow picked up her bag. "Where're you going?" he demanded. She looked ready to leave and she'd only just arrived. He hadn't hardly seen or spoken with her since they bought the Thunderbird together on Monday.

Willow sighed. "I've got a paper to research tonight. Sorry lover. I'll make it up to you tomorrow." She blew him a kiss and flitted from the room before he recovered.

"Right! Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am!" Spike swore and patted down his front pocket until he found his smokes. Still lying flat on his back, naked in a pool of cum, he lit a fag and contemplated the ceiling. "Leave. See if I care. I got what was coming to me!"

Part Two

True to her word, Willow stayed away for another day. Spike spent the first several hours hanging out in the mansion thinking it was just another of her sadistic games. She wanted to spend time with him. He could see it in her eyes. It didn't make any sense for her to leave.

After midnight it finally dawned on him that she wasn't coming back. The two-bit witch had used *him*, William the Bloody, for a twardy tryst on the floor of a garage! She had blown in, blown him, and blown out!

"Bleeding chip musta fucked up my head in more ways than one," Spike muttered. "No bird uses *me* for a cheap fling!" No, no, that wasn't how it was. All wrong. It was the other way around and damn obvious to anyone with two eyes. *He* was the one who had done all of the using!

"An' now I'll do the leavin'." Determined to demonstrate to the world that *he* didn't need anyone, Spike left the mansion and went looking for trouble. He bought a bottle of whiskey and some blood from Willy's but the bar was empty so he didn't get his fight. Instead, Spike wandered the streets of Sunnydale late into the morning, determined to never go back.

Near sunup, Spike somehow wound up back in the Crawford Street mansion. He was drunk enough to be deeply mired in emotional crap, mentally reviewing his entire breakup with Drusilla yet again, and then moving on to the quagmire he'd gotten himself into with Willow.

"Bloody hell!" Spike announced to the empty room and took another swig off his bottle. It was his gut reaction to life in general. His very location--lounging on top of the grand fireplace of *Angel's* elegant home--was a prime example of how truly fucked up he was.

"Can't believe I let her talk me into this!" Swig. "Bad enough I've got her leadin' me around by the balls but now I'm livin' in that soddin' trotter's house. Bloke doesn't even 'ave a decent bottle of booze." He glared at the pilfered bottle of wine in his hand as if it were to blame for Angel's taste in alcohol.

Spike hadn't been this worked up over a woman since...Dru. "Fuck!" He exploded to his feet and staggered around the room. Thinking about Drusilla's betrayal and abandonment never failed to put him into a foul mood.

Spike continued to add up his grievances, moving on from his residence to the real source of his upset: "Mistress" Willow. "Willow's screwin' with my head. I know she is... This is a big setup an' the Slayer an' her powder kittens are going to get a right royal laugh at my expense."

PARANOIA. Except... except... he didn't believe it. Spike knew people. He understood what made them tick. And he didn't sense a setup. Her want--NEED of him--was REAL. He saw it in her eyes when she reached for him and the hurt when he made her cry.

What he did know about "new" Willow didn't jive with anything he knew about the "old". New Willow didn't make any sense, no matter how soused Spike got or how hard he thought about it. She was *too* confident, *too* sadistic, *too* violent, *too* sarcastic, and possessed too many other un-Willow-like qualities. Nothing fit with what he knew of Willow.

The only conclusion that made sense was that neither the Scoobies or he had ever really known jack shit about the redhead. "Either that or she's possessed. Or I'm bewitched..."

Huh. *There* was yet another mystery. And no matter how hard he figured it, he still couldn't explain why he'd become entangled in an affair with a *human* girl. And the Slayer's best friend no less! Dickering with Willow might very well get him staked considering that he was as helpless as a newborn kitten. The Slayer would be in a wicked ass mood if the little witch got hurt and went crying to her best friend.

Humans were too soft and transitory to hold Spike's interest for any length of time. Girls like Willow didn't understand that shagging was shagging. Nothing more. Girls like Willow expected candy and flowers and sweet nothings. They wanted commitment and everlasting love, things that a demon like Spike wasn't capable of feeling for a human girl.

Oh sure, Willow was a fine bit of rough. He ached to give her the old heave ho right and proper like but she wasn't exactly his ideal choice of companion. Apart from Drusilla, women with a less class were usually more to his liking. They were certainly less work. In contrast, both Dru and Willow were extremely High Maintenance.

"But she does 'ave A Quality," Spike confided to the flames. New Willow had an edge--raw sexuality and personal power. He liked the way she dressed, talked, and walked. She rode his lap like a jockey going hell bent for leather, and gave the best oral sex he could imagine. If it was the last thing he did, Spike swore he was going to give her the shaft. He *would* wedge his cock into that tight little pussy or ass. Either way worked, preferably both.

Thinking about Willow got him all horny again. Spike's spike hardened in his pants, taking up a lot more room than the tight fitting back jeans afforded.

"Life's not going like it's supposed to," Spike mused, weaving as he swaggered about the room. "Bad enough I got this bloody chip in me head. I never really appreciated the killin' till it was gone," he lamented. "Makes me wish I could go back and savor each murder and mutilation proper like."

A feminine snort interrupted his monologue. "You're a real piece of work, Spike. If you got your chip out, how long will it be before you thought to yourself, 'Ah, sort of miss that old chip of mine....'?" The mocking words cut him to the quick and a creepy sense of familiarity descended over the blond vampire.

Spike swiveled to face Willow. The redhead lurked in the shadows, effortlessly occupying the darkest place in the room. It was damn spooky, her newfound talent for that. Spike took a heavy draught from the wine. How long had she been standing there? "Not nice of you to sneak up on a bloke like that." It was the second time in a row. She was making a real habit of it and he didn't like at all.

"Thought you said you weren't coming back, *pet*," he taunted. He deliberately emphasized 'pet', daring her to punish him. It was a transgression in blatant violation of the rules of their dom/sub relationship, which Spike only played along with because he wanted to pork the little vixen until she couldn't stand.

Willow grinned and let the comment slip. "I said that *yesterday*," she pointed out, unconcerned. Her smile promised retribution later. She was good at unexpectedly giving him some of his own back.

The blow job had been a good example. She'd postponed and withheld it as a form of punishment for real and imagined transgressions alike for two full days before she'd blindsided him on the cold cement floor. Somehow-someway--giving head had gotten turned into a dominance maneuver.

Spike's balls turned the color of neon smurfs as his cock stirred with the memory. He swallowed as she strode over to him, swinging her hips like a doxy begging for the some argey-bargey. She wore a black tube dress with an indecently high skirt and low neckline. If he were a little lower Spike would have been staring straight up her skirt and had a front row seat to her panty-clad crotch.

He sat down.

"You're drunk," Willow said, grossly overstating the obvious.

"Am I?!" Spike exclaimed. "No kidding, love?"

"You're thinking about Dru again."

"Sure I am," he agreed. It was easier than admitting he'd been thinking about her. He wasn't about to hand over that sort of power. She'd use it to leverage him over a table and give it to him up the ass.

She believed him. "I can tell from the distant look in your eye. You're here with me but your mind is with her." There was only the faintest trace of hurt in her tone but none of Harmony's whininess.

"Don't like that, do you? Me thinking about Dru?" he asked, expecting her to be jealous.

"Nope, but I understand. I know what it's like to love someone so much that you don't know where you end and they begin." Her eyes drifted away as she thought about her own true love - that Oz fellow, the werewolf. Jealousy cut through Spike's gut.

"Me and Dru was like that," he confided. He didn't want Willow thinking about another man while she was with him. Oi, but it was a nasty double standard. By the same token, Willow probably didn't appreciate playing second fiddle to Spike's absent Dark Queen.

Willow sighed. "I know," she replied simply. "I'm sorry. If I could give her back to you, I would. If I could undo what Angel-us did, I would." The sorrow in those intense green eyes was sincere.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, pet," he protested.

"Yes, I do." Her compelling eyes trapped him. "More than you know. More than you can ever know." Regrettably, she sat, leaning against the wall next to him, so Spike lost his front row view of her pussy.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed. "What? Are you my fuckin' shrink now? Do I look like I need one?" Irritated, he heaved the bottle into the fireplace. It shattered in a red and orange shower of shards as the firelight caught the glass.

She smirked but otherwise refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "With all that pent up rage that has nowhere to go? Hell yes!"

Spike leaned back against the wall again and closed his eyes. "It's the damn chip. I haven't got any problems that aren't caused by the chip." He opened his eyes and touched his forehead, looking to the side at her. "Don't need my sex pot playin' at being my chum," he told her, rebuffing her attempts at "bonding" with him.

Green eyes widened. "I'm *not* your sex pot AND I wasn't trying to be your chum."

"Sure you were. You've even got the body language us blokes use down pretty good," he conceded magnanimously. Her eyes rounded more and he smirked. She thought he hadn't noticed! "No fault o' your own, luv. You just aren't a man. You're way to soft for one thing."

Her jaw dropped. "I am?" It was the first real rise Spike had ever managed to get from Leather Goddess Willow and it got his juices going to see her so completely confounded.

"Hell yeah you're soft," he confirmed with satisfaction. "If you were a man you'd be a right flouncey nonce."

"But but..." She mouthed something and turned a strange look on Spike. "I'm bi," she pointed out.

"I'll bear that in mind if I'm ever in the mood to see you gettin' it on with another bird," he acknowledged generously. Spike definitely had the upper hand in this conversation and he intended to keep it.

"But but..." Her head titled. "Are you telling me that I'd make a lousy man?" The query was phrased so that she could be one hundred percent sure that she had his meaning. Her uncertainty was both amusing and endearing.

"Pet, you would be a Pouf to end all Poufs."

Her mouth turned down and her arms crossed. "You asshole," she snapped. "I only wanted to talk."

Cor, now she was hurt! "Look, don't go getting' all pouty." He pulled the little jezebel into his arms. "It's sweet an' all an' I appreciate the grand gesture. Don't be hurt." He smiled sweetly. "It's right as rain that you're all soft and squishy on the inside an' tough as nails on the out. It's as sexy as all hell, and fuckin' adorable."

"Thanks," she said dryly. Willow rolled her eyes but she flushed with pleasure, her delicate complexion warming to a lovely shade of pink. Her eyes were still wary though. Spike knew he needed to do some kissing up or he'd never get her into bed. There was a fine line between being right and rubbing a woman's nose in it.

"I don't need therapy from you, pet," he purred. A warm burr entered his voice as his groin tightened. "What I need a bit of the ol' slap and tickle."

She laughed. "You're so pathetic, Spike! It always comes back to this: getting me into bed. I told you no."

He scowled. "I don't like 'no'. You haven't even given me a good reason."

"You're right." She squirmed in his arms and sat up. "I don't need to give my sub a reason."

He was too drunk and surly to care about the game. "Don't start with that crap now. You dom because I play along. Any power you have over me, I gave you." His eyes turned yellow on the brink of game face.

Like he expected, Willow shot to her feet. Spike knew such blatant disobedience would be met with swift reprisal. It was part of the game. Her boot clad foot collided with his ribs. "Umf. Starting with the foreplay already, Red? Hot to get to it tonight, are we?"

"Willow or Mistress," she informed him imperiously.

"Whatever you say, ducks." Willow put her foot down on his crotch. "OUCH! FUCK! All right all right I give!" Spike grew extremely accommodating, smiling and wheedling. "I'm just funnin' with you, *Mistress*. Don't always 'ave to go fer me knackers, you know."

"Yes. I. Do. It's the only way to get your attention."

"You have it now." He offered up his most endearing, shit-eating grin. At that point, Spike would have said or done anything to convince her to remove her stiletto heel from his crotch. She had one of his delicate sacs pinned to the floor with enough force that a human's testicle would have ruptured.

"Mistress or Willow," she warned with a sweet smile. Her foot stayed where it was and she even leaned in a little harder.

"Mistress! Willow! Auntie Bertha even!"

She laughed and stepped back. Spike sagged with relief and grabbed at his crotch, checking his one eyed trouser snake over for damage. His inspection revealed to ruptures or tears, only a raging erection. Abuse turned him on and Willow knew how to dish it out. He could tell from the look in her eyes that his Red was hot to trot.

Part Three


A good strap of leather in the hands of a master set up a rhythm not unlike music as it impacted with flesh. Spike grunted and grasped the chains binding his arms to the ceiling for support. The strong metal links clinked but they were the only sound in the room beyond the buzz and slap of the strap.

Sweat trickled down his bare chest toward the band of his black jeans. On his back, it mingled with blood. Willow had drawn quite a bit of blood but Spike refused to cry out. The lashing didn't actually hurt all that bad. The pain was more pleasure than a discomfort.

Willow wasn't that strong but what she lacked in strength, she made up for in sheer expertise. Spike rather likened Willow's skill with a whip to her talent for giving head: she was damn good at it. She made the leather sing and she knew how to time each lash just long enough to let the pain settle like a rich sip of wine.

It had been a damn long time since William the Bloody had consented to a whuppin. Not so much out of distaste but rather from lack of a partner. That little twat, Harmony, he'd been humpin' hadn't known how to appreciate the finer points of giving and receiving pain. They hadn't been suited to one another at all, on any level: intellectual, emotional, or sexual. She'd been a quick fuck during a dry spell.

Spike figured that New Willow could hold his interest for a while to come. She was fiery and fierce, dark and dangerous, savage and violent, and intrinsically sexual. He got his rocks off on just being around her and she didn't make for a bad conversationalist either when the occasional mood struck him to chat.

He'd heard enough about "vampire" Willow from the alternative universe to be intrigued. Visions and possibilities danced in his head. Willow even listened when he talked about Drusilla, never whining or complaining the way so many others had.

She was the first partner Spike had EVER compared to Drusilla, and that alone made him think. The fact that she had him tied to the ceiling while she beat the crap out of him spoke rather loudly too. No one beyond Dru had been ballsy--or confident--enough to DARE suggest such a thing since his arse of a sire had crawled off to wallow in misery.

Come to think of it, Angelus had never laid a finger on him just for fun.

So this was kind of special...

"Buffy!" Willow's shocked gasp ripped Spike out of his romantic musing like an unpleasant dunk in throw up and shit.

NO NO NO!!! "ARSE!" Spike exclaimed. "Not that blonde pooch again!" He twisted on the chains in order to glare. With a yank of his arms, the chains ripped out of the ceiling.

Buffy and Xander stood in the entryway, gapping like nuns at an orgy. Pissed, Spike removed the left shackle and dropped the attached chain. He did the same with the right but swung it around for use as a weapon. It was pure posturing but he was too ticked off to remember the chip.

"W-W-Willow," Her royal blonde twatiness gasped.

"W-w-what?" Spike mimed.

"Doesn't anyone around here respect anyone else's privacy?" Willow finally asked faintly.

"Apparently not," Spike rejoined sourly.

"Willow, I--" Xander stepped forward, trying to look all macho. Willow spun on him, her green eyes sparking viciously.

"Don't Willow me!" she hissed. "HOW DARE YOU?! Have I ever once said *anything* about your PMS demon?"

"Vengeance," Xander corrected.

"Willow, look," Buffy interrupted.

Willow's gaze on Buffy softened just like it had during their first confrontation over Spike. "Angel," Willow said, shutting the Slayer up with one word. Buffy paled and closed her mouth.

The blonde vampire didn't know quite what to make of Willow's attitude toward her roommate but one thing was obvious: Willow had the hots for Buffy. Spike was intrigued but the Slayer made his gut turn and his dick harden all at once. It was a fucked up combination.

"We wouldn't have come here if we weren't worried about you," Buffy finally managed.

"Nothin' to worry about!" Spike shouted. "I'M CHIPPED, REMEMBER? The first time was annoying." Spike's protective/possessive nature for the little redhead who dom'ed him kicked in like a blue steak. "But this is too soddin' much even for you, Power Muff."

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy replied tightly. She tried to circle him to get to Willow but he matched her.

"No," Willow said softly, "Don't tell him to shut up. He speaks for both of us." The Slayer and Xander paled as if they'd been struck and Spike swelled with pride. The line had just been drawn in the sand. Willow had chosen Spike over her friends.

"Explain this please because it's not making any sense to me," Xander demanded. "I don't get you and *him*."

"Simple," Spike interjected, "I get me rocks off on a good whuppin' an' Willow here she likes-"

The redhead laid a hand on his arm. "Spike please," she whispered. "I can handle this." She squeezed his bicep and stepped out from behind him. "Spike and I are playing kinky sex games," she told the pair bluntly.

A great guff of laughter burst forth from Spike as the Slayer's jaw hit the floor. It was better than any episode of Red Dwarf he'd ever seen. "Now you're welcome to stay if you'd like to play," Willow told Buffy gently. "But otherwise my sub and I would like to be left alone. Please."

"O" The Slayer's mouth formed a perfect donut as she backed from the room and Spike would'ave given anything to use her face as a fuck hole right that second. But Willow would have objected so he settled for laughing his arse off as Buffy stammered an apology and ran from the room. Xander followed, sullen with confusion and resentment.

"God, I'm sorry," Willow whispered once the Slayer was gone. "I gave a weak excuse and cut history to come see you this morning. She must have followed me." Down in the face, the little witch sat down on the fireplace. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and for the first time she reminded Spike of Old Willow.

"Don't sweat it," Spike told her and strode over to take Willow into his arms before she started blubbering. "Coulda been worse. She might'ave come in while my tool was rammed down your throat and I was in the vinegar strokes."

Sure enough, a muffled, soggy giggle sounded against his throat. "You ass." Willow hit his chest with her fist before she dissolved into harder laughter. She was releasing tension and Spike held her until the hysteria ran its course.

"I wish they'd just leave me alone," she murmured, face still buried in his throat. Spike swallowed. He liked the feel of her warm lips on his flesh and her small form fit right in his arms.

"They been harassing you about us?" he asked guardedly. She nodded. "That why you've been stayin' away the last couple days?"

Her head bobbed again and Spike felt his chest tighten. "That's bullshit," he told her. He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up. She peered at him with watery eyes. "From now on if anyone's giving you shit, I want you tell me. Clear?"

She blinked. "Clear." A slow smile crept onto her rose lips and she flushed. Sweet. Soft. Spike couldn't stop. His kissed her.

It began and ended in the tender brush of their lips and it was unlike anything they'd shared before. It wasn't lust or dominance, merely sharing. They connected and Spike drew away feeling completely confused. *What the fuck was that?!*

Willow didn't seem to notice. Happy again, she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the fireplace, facing him. She extended her foot, wiggling toes creeping up on the same crotch she had nailed with her heel not so long ago. Spike watched her writhing digits approach the bulge in his pants with dread and desperation. If this was yet another cock tease that would end without satisfaction, he'd stake himself now to spare his dick the agony.

His Red had a real foot fetish and Spike spent more than his fair share of time with Willow's big toe teasing his straining cock through a hole in his jeans or humping the bottom of her foot. It would have been absolutely humiliating if he weren't so pathetically horny.

The soft ball of her foot touched his straining cock. Once lightly, and bounced, hovering, bounced again. Spike moaned. He thrust forward and up with his hips, beseeching his Mistress for more.

"Hmm...I'm not sure you deserve this," she teased with that sadistic smirk. "But I'm in a generous mood tonight, slave." Her foot touched down on his cock. The petite length wasn't even long enough to cover his entire member from stern to aft but Spike didn't care. He whimpered and rubbed himself against her foot, dry humping himself on the steady pressure and the rough denim of his jeans. Spike never wore underwear.

The redhead gave a bewitching little laugh and obliged, indulging his masturbation. Her foot was firm and unyielding and the attention he received from her was all he had gotten in days aside from last night's blow job.

When their dom/sub play had begun, the chit had forbidden Spike to toss off and he had obeyed the command for some reason beyond his ability to fathom. He told himself that it was part of the game but he feared the truth more than almost anything else. Inebriated, Spike's guard slipped and the truth entered into his consciousness.

This game they played - master and servant, owner and slave, dom and sub... Somehow, someway, it wasn't entirely a game. In just three days, the chit calling herself Willow had mastered the Big Bad. She had strolled into his life and taken over like she owned him.

She *knew* him to a fault - his strengths, weaknesses, foibles and fears. She reached right into his being and put his demon on a leash, assuming a natural place of dominance that Spike couldn't begin to explain but it scared the unloving crap out of him.

"I only take this shit from you cause I choose to," he panted, pumping steadily against her foot. Almost there...

She laughed and withdrew. Spike howled in frustration as the orgasm faded. NO NO NO! ARSE! "You take this shit from me because I *own* you, bitch," she taunted.

"Not bloody likely." Spike snorted and sat up with a wicked gleam in his eye, gathering the little minx into his arms. It was time for him to take revenge, and payback was a sweet sweet bitch. And so was Willow...