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dragonyphoenixTitle: Adrift in a Sea of Discarded Desires 1/5
Series: Double!Verse
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Willow/Spike, Dru
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: Non-con; death during sex
Summary: Sequel to Conjuring Love from the Ashes of an Old Flame – as the love spell wears off, Willow and Spike remain together, but an unexpected arrival might change things forver.
Notes: Might be my first femmeslash with an explicit sex scene.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who helped me with San Francisco: rebcake for suggesting Haight-Ashbury and providing very detailed descriptions of the painted ladies and pass-throughs; whichclothes for stepping up and suggesting where Spike and Willow might set up shop; rua1412 and brunettepet for suggesting how Spike might get around the city; findmeneverland for discussions about Golden Gate Park and Spike transportation; and vikingprincess for pointing me to a very fun street, which sadly didn't make it into the story. You were all so helpful! Thank you. All mistakes are, of course, my own.
Love spells wear off gradually. Nine months had passed before Willow realized she didn't love Spike, but she was used to having him around, and while she did think about going back for Xander, it didn't seem worth the effort.
Still, her mood had soured. Being madly in love had been thrilling, exciting, intoxicating. Nothing, not the longest hunt nor the grisliest kill, brought back that old frisson. So she wandered alone, keeping to the more isolated paths, pretending she could lose herself in woods of Golden Gate Park. Wandering the edges of Stow Lake, following a path no human could even see, she found herself at the base of a waterfall. At her feet was a pool, not very wide really, a squarish area between two and three times the height of a tall man on any side. To her left a rock jutted straight up but on her right smaller rocks formed a series of steps, creating a path she could jump up to the bridge, made up of a set of three arches the color of dried blood. A pair of lovers, silhouettes in the darkness even to vampire vision, kissed, whispering sweet nothings back and forth, the words bland and boring but the voices sounding so much like Xander and Cordy that she found herself leaping up the rocky path, flying over the fence, and tearing the lovers apart and tossing the guy to the ground.
As Willow grabbed the girl, the tiny blond reached into her pocket, pulling out a knife. Disarming the girl without a second thought, Willow broke her leg with one short, sharp kick. “Don't go anywhere,” Willow said over the screams as the girl fell to the ground.
Yanking the guy up off the ground, Willow leaped over the fence, standing atop the tall rock, the one that fell straight down to the water. With a snap, she broke his neck. Dropping the body, she gazed over the edge, curious to see where it would drift to, only to be disappointed when it got stuck on the rocks at the edge of the pooling water.
From the woods beyond the bridge, a voice called out. “Bored yet?” It was her own voice. Willow leaped, jumping over the bridge, her feet making tiny whooshes of sound against the packed dirt. She couldn't see anyone in the trees until a figure shifted, moving leftwards a half-step, revealing black boots, a tight fitting leather outfit, breast jutting out under red fabric, and her own face beneath shoulder length hair. Damn she looked good.
“I thought we sent you back,” Willow said, her grin the first time she'd truly smiled in weeks.
“You did. I died. Spent some time in hell and then got sent here. Imagine my disappointment to find myself in your universe.”
“How'd you know where to find me?” She didn't question why Willow had come looking for her. Of course she would.
“Scrying,” Willow replied.
“Can I see?” Closing the gap between them, she wrapped her arms around Willow, copping a feel as she squeezed Willow's ass, one that felt exactly like her own.
Brushing a hand over Willow's breast, Willow replied, “We'll need to find a pool, liquid to scry with, but no reason why you shouldn't. Later though.” Running a finger along the curve of Willow's ear, she traced lazy spirals behind the earlobe. As Willow moaned in pleasure, she said, “I know all the sweet spots.”
Willow replied with a wicked smile as her eyes lit up.
Grabbing Willow's blouse just above her breasts, she tore down, shredding the black lacy fabric until it was a pile of threads at their feet. Dropping to her knees, Willow bit a nipple until it hardened in her cool mouth. Leaning back and looking up from under eyelashes, she said, “Wanna go home?”
“Home?” Willow asked. “Why not here?”
“Because we're gonna take our time. I don't want to be interrupted by pesky sunlight.”
Willow's smile, an almost malicious twist of her lips, was assent enough.
As she stood, Willow nodded toward the girl whimpering by the bridge. “Still want that?”
“Suddenly I'm in the mood for something that'll put up more of a fight.”
As they strolled along, kissing hands, licking fingers, grabbing asses, Willow ran her thumb over one nipple until it hardened. “How come I'm the only one who's topless?”
Willow cupped her own breasts. “You know what they look like.”
“That's not the point. I wanna play too.”
“Soon,” Willow promised.
They left the park behind, strolling past the painted ladies, Victorian homes decked out in patterns of vivid colors. As they passed into the lights before a violet house, Willow looked up the steps, toward a woman standing by a door, whose eyes were riveted on the naked breasts. “What are you looking at?” Willow growled, baring her teeth. With a slam of the door behind her, the woman vanished into the house.
About four blocks later, two cops, men junior enough to be stuck with a sidewalk beat, swaggered up to the two Willows. “Miss? You can't walk around topless.”
Willow's tits jiggled as she danced away. “I think you'll find I can.” Moving just fast enough to keep out of the cop's reach, Willow dashed down the street to a house with no lights in the front and turned into it's pass-through, the dark passageway between the front and back of the house. The second cop, watching his partner vanish around the corner, told Willow, the one still completely dressed, to stay where she was as he ran after.
Willow's black leather boots clicked against the cement sidewalk as she slowly but purposefully followed. Stepping into the pass-through, walking past the garbage cans and brushing her hand along the wooden siding, she grinned when she saw Willow at the other end, dressed in the cop's uniform shirt and hat, working the handcuffs into a loop on her pants. “Wanna play bad cop?” she asked.
“I wanna play,” Willow replied, pushing open the cop shirt and brushing her hands over Willow's tits. As the second cop moaned, Willow said, “You didn't kill him.”
“I wasn't sure if you'd eaten.”
“I had,” Willow replied, staring at the cop. “Still want to see scrying?”
At Willow's nod, she squatted down, slicing the cop's neck with her fingernail. “Give it a moment for the blood to pool.” When the blood had spread out enough, Willow chanted a few words and waved her hand across the water. “The fall of Sunnydale,” she said.
Willow gazed into the blood, watching as the Mayor stopped speaking, his head bulging out unnaturally, his body expanding, breaking past the confines of his suit, as he transformed into a demon. Students screamed and started running, knocking each other over as they tried to escape. His giant mouth came down, once and then once again. “He got Cordelia. Good, I hated that bitch.”
“I killed her in my universe.” Willow glanced at her, envy clear in her eyes, before turning back to the scene.
Faith and Angel, behind the rows of students, staking vampires with an efficiency that was a beauty to behold, each kept glancing toward the chairs, to where Buffy was standing. “Hurry up and do it already,” Faith called out. As the Mayor's mouth descended into the crowed a third time, Buffy, grabbing a backpack from underneath her chair, threw herself in. “Buffy, you bitch!,” Faith shouted. “You were supposed to throw it in and get out of there.”
There was a rumbling from inside the Mayor. Faith ducked just before demon meat flew every which way, spattering the crowd. “Ow,” the Mayor said, looking down at the hole in his side.
“Ah shit,” Faith shouted. Staking a vamp, she called out to a group of geeks that had hunkered by their chairs. “This way. Get out now.”
“Bored now,” Willow said, dismissing the vision with a wave of her hand.
“Buffy's dead?” Willow asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.
“Problem?”
“I wanted to kill her myself,” Willow complained.
Shrugging, she replied, “There'll always be another Slayer.”
“It won't be the same.”
“I bet I can cheer you up,” Willow said, grabbing her hand. “Come on.” They raced off into the night.
Willow didn't realize where they were going until she saw the house, a bright yellow Victorian with orange trim and stripes of a green and maroon diamond pattern above the windows. “Where are we going?”
“Your place,” Willow said, glancing at the house Willow was staring at.
“You know where I'm living?”
“I've been keeping tabs on you.”
Willow stopped. “Wait, how long have you been in my universe?”
“Just under a year.” As Willow stared at her, she added, “No use butting in before the love spell had worn off.”
“What do you know about the love spell?”
“More than you know.”
Willow directed them down an alley, a path behind the houses that ran parallel to the street. With fewer lights, it was darker and more discrete than the front door. The garage was shut and there was no back entrance, but a second story window was open, it's hazy curtains shimmering in the breeze. Looking up at the window, Willow said, “It goes right to the master bedroom.”
Willow leaped up, grabbing onto the window ledge. Hanging by one hand, she asked, “Why did you pick the Haight?” After climbing through the window, she looked down to see why Willow hadn't joined her. At Willow's pout, she added, “Rentals rarely have nosy neighbors. You'd have fewer worries in the Tenderloin.”
“You sound just like Spike,” Willow grumbled, making her own leap up to the window. “He wanted the Mission district.” When Willow didn't reply, she pushed herself up on the ledge, throwing herself into the room, rolling forward until she was standing. “I wasn't going to live in the sunniest part of the city.”
Willow tugged at her arm, pulling her in for a kiss. “You don't like to be wrong,” she whispered. As Willow bristled against her, she said, “I know just how that feels.” They kissed for a few moments, tongues twisting together in Willow's mouth. Stepping back, she added, “But you should learn to take good advice. Spike has been around over a century. He knows some things you don't.”
At the sound of whimpering, Willow turned, getting her first good look at the room. The bed and dressers were utilitarian enough, although the dark cherry wood glowed as if someone had dusted recently. The dresser across from the foot of the bed, along and unwindowed wall, had a mirror above, which reflected the bed's black sheets but not the two women standing before it.
Hearing the whimpering again, Willow glanced at the closet. Crossing the room, Willow opened the door and yanked out a woman, a young thing in her mid-twenties, dressed in jeans and a torn shirt, with a rag stuffed into her mouth.
“Housesitter,” Willow said. “She deals with anyone who comes to the door. It's a nuisance, keeping her alive. I have to supervise her every second, but it does help avoid suspicion.” Petting her hand through dirty blond hair, Willow wrapped a strand around her fingers and tugged at it sharply. “We're going to have to bathe you again.”
The woman shrank back into the closet, as if it offered some sort of safety. “Bathe?” Willow asked.
“You'll see.”
“Come on,” Willow said, grabbing Willow's hand and shutting the closet door. “We can play with her later.” Running her hand down the cop shirt, she pushed it further open, pausing to rub her hands down Willow's torso. “Gee, Officer Krumpsky,” she said in a patently fake innocent voice. “Please don't pound me with your nightstick.”
“How do you know I have one?” Willow asked, acting just as innocent.
Willow smirked. “I would.” Noting Willow's glance at the dresser, the one with the mirror, she wandered over. “Now where could it be? Eeeny,” she said, pointing at one of two top drawers. “Meeny,” she added, pointing at the second top drawer. At Willow's grin, she opened it and pulled out a phallus, a black piece of plastic so huge it made her arm look small.
“Are you sure you don't want to get pounded?”
With a quick glance at the closet, Willow said, “Later.” Placing the dildo on the dresser, she took two steps to the bed, calling Willow over with a finger. As they climbed on, she grabbed Willow, rolling over until she was on her back. Pushing aside the cop's shirt, she leaned down, biting at a nipple until Willow hissed, arching her breast up into her mouth. Looking up, she caught Willow's gaze. “I can't wait to see what I look like squirming with desire, teetering on the brink, screaming out in ecstasy.”
Series: Double!Verse
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Willow/Spike, Dru
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: Non-con; death during sex
Summary: Sequel to Conjuring Love from the Ashes of an Old Flame – as the love spell wears off, Willow and Spike remain together, but an unexpected arrival might change things forver.
Notes: Might be my first femmeslash with an explicit sex scene.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who helped me with San Francisco: rebcake for suggesting Haight-Ashbury and providing very detailed descriptions of the painted ladies and pass-throughs; whichclothes for stepping up and suggesting where Spike and Willow might set up shop; rua1412 and brunettepet for suggesting how Spike might get around the city; findmeneverland for discussions about Golden Gate Park and Spike transportation; and vikingprincess for pointing me to a very fun street, which sadly didn't make it into the story. You were all so helpful! Thank you. All mistakes are, of course, my own.
Love spells wear off gradually. Nine months had passed before Willow realized she didn't love Spike, but she was used to having him around, and while she did think about going back for Xander, it didn't seem worth the effort.
Still, her mood had soured. Being madly in love had been thrilling, exciting, intoxicating. Nothing, not the longest hunt nor the grisliest kill, brought back that old frisson. So she wandered alone, keeping to the more isolated paths, pretending she could lose herself in woods of Golden Gate Park. Wandering the edges of Stow Lake, following a path no human could even see, she found herself at the base of a waterfall. At her feet was a pool, not very wide really, a squarish area between two and three times the height of a tall man on any side. To her left a rock jutted straight up but on her right smaller rocks formed a series of steps, creating a path she could jump up to the bridge, made up of a set of three arches the color of dried blood. A pair of lovers, silhouettes in the darkness even to vampire vision, kissed, whispering sweet nothings back and forth, the words bland and boring but the voices sounding so much like Xander and Cordy that she found herself leaping up the rocky path, flying over the fence, and tearing the lovers apart and tossing the guy to the ground.
As Willow grabbed the girl, the tiny blond reached into her pocket, pulling out a knife. Disarming the girl without a second thought, Willow broke her leg with one short, sharp kick. “Don't go anywhere,” Willow said over the screams as the girl fell to the ground.
Yanking the guy up off the ground, Willow leaped over the fence, standing atop the tall rock, the one that fell straight down to the water. With a snap, she broke his neck. Dropping the body, she gazed over the edge, curious to see where it would drift to, only to be disappointed when it got stuck on the rocks at the edge of the pooling water.
From the woods beyond the bridge, a voice called out. “Bored yet?” It was her own voice. Willow leaped, jumping over the bridge, her feet making tiny whooshes of sound against the packed dirt. She couldn't see anyone in the trees until a figure shifted, moving leftwards a half-step, revealing black boots, a tight fitting leather outfit, breast jutting out under red fabric, and her own face beneath shoulder length hair. Damn she looked good.
“I thought we sent you back,” Willow said, her grin the first time she'd truly smiled in weeks.
“You did. I died. Spent some time in hell and then got sent here. Imagine my disappointment to find myself in your universe.”
“How'd you know where to find me?” She didn't question why Willow had come looking for her. Of course she would.
“Scrying,” Willow replied.
“Can I see?” Closing the gap between them, she wrapped her arms around Willow, copping a feel as she squeezed Willow's ass, one that felt exactly like her own.
Brushing a hand over Willow's breast, Willow replied, “We'll need to find a pool, liquid to scry with, but no reason why you shouldn't. Later though.” Running a finger along the curve of Willow's ear, she traced lazy spirals behind the earlobe. As Willow moaned in pleasure, she said, “I know all the sweet spots.”
Willow replied with a wicked smile as her eyes lit up.
Grabbing Willow's blouse just above her breasts, she tore down, shredding the black lacy fabric until it was a pile of threads at their feet. Dropping to her knees, Willow bit a nipple until it hardened in her cool mouth. Leaning back and looking up from under eyelashes, she said, “Wanna go home?”
“Home?” Willow asked. “Why not here?”
“Because we're gonna take our time. I don't want to be interrupted by pesky sunlight.”
Willow's smile, an almost malicious twist of her lips, was assent enough.
As she stood, Willow nodded toward the girl whimpering by the bridge. “Still want that?”
“Suddenly I'm in the mood for something that'll put up more of a fight.”
As they strolled along, kissing hands, licking fingers, grabbing asses, Willow ran her thumb over one nipple until it hardened. “How come I'm the only one who's topless?”
Willow cupped her own breasts. “You know what they look like.”
“That's not the point. I wanna play too.”
“Soon,” Willow promised.
They left the park behind, strolling past the painted ladies, Victorian homes decked out in patterns of vivid colors. As they passed into the lights before a violet house, Willow looked up the steps, toward a woman standing by a door, whose eyes were riveted on the naked breasts. “What are you looking at?” Willow growled, baring her teeth. With a slam of the door behind her, the woman vanished into the house.
About four blocks later, two cops, men junior enough to be stuck with a sidewalk beat, swaggered up to the two Willows. “Miss? You can't walk around topless.”
Willow's tits jiggled as she danced away. “I think you'll find I can.” Moving just fast enough to keep out of the cop's reach, Willow dashed down the street to a house with no lights in the front and turned into it's pass-through, the dark passageway between the front and back of the house. The second cop, watching his partner vanish around the corner, told Willow, the one still completely dressed, to stay where she was as he ran after.
Willow's black leather boots clicked against the cement sidewalk as she slowly but purposefully followed. Stepping into the pass-through, walking past the garbage cans and brushing her hand along the wooden siding, she grinned when she saw Willow at the other end, dressed in the cop's uniform shirt and hat, working the handcuffs into a loop on her pants. “Wanna play bad cop?” she asked.
“I wanna play,” Willow replied, pushing open the cop shirt and brushing her hands over Willow's tits. As the second cop moaned, Willow said, “You didn't kill him.”
“I wasn't sure if you'd eaten.”
“I had,” Willow replied, staring at the cop. “Still want to see scrying?”
At Willow's nod, she squatted down, slicing the cop's neck with her fingernail. “Give it a moment for the blood to pool.” When the blood had spread out enough, Willow chanted a few words and waved her hand across the water. “The fall of Sunnydale,” she said.
Willow gazed into the blood, watching as the Mayor stopped speaking, his head bulging out unnaturally, his body expanding, breaking past the confines of his suit, as he transformed into a demon. Students screamed and started running, knocking each other over as they tried to escape. His giant mouth came down, once and then once again. “He got Cordelia. Good, I hated that bitch.”
“I killed her in my universe.” Willow glanced at her, envy clear in her eyes, before turning back to the scene.
Faith and Angel, behind the rows of students, staking vampires with an efficiency that was a beauty to behold, each kept glancing toward the chairs, to where Buffy was standing. “Hurry up and do it already,” Faith called out. As the Mayor's mouth descended into the crowed a third time, Buffy, grabbing a backpack from underneath her chair, threw herself in. “Buffy, you bitch!,” Faith shouted. “You were supposed to throw it in and get out of there.”
There was a rumbling from inside the Mayor. Faith ducked just before demon meat flew every which way, spattering the crowd. “Ow,” the Mayor said, looking down at the hole in his side.
“Ah shit,” Faith shouted. Staking a vamp, she called out to a group of geeks that had hunkered by their chairs. “This way. Get out now.”
“Bored now,” Willow said, dismissing the vision with a wave of her hand.
“Buffy's dead?” Willow asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.
“Problem?”
“I wanted to kill her myself,” Willow complained.
Shrugging, she replied, “There'll always be another Slayer.”
“It won't be the same.”
“I bet I can cheer you up,” Willow said, grabbing her hand. “Come on.” They raced off into the night.
Willow didn't realize where they were going until she saw the house, a bright yellow Victorian with orange trim and stripes of a green and maroon diamond pattern above the windows. “Where are we going?”
“Your place,” Willow said, glancing at the house Willow was staring at.
“You know where I'm living?”
“I've been keeping tabs on you.”
Willow stopped. “Wait, how long have you been in my universe?”
“Just under a year.” As Willow stared at her, she added, “No use butting in before the love spell had worn off.”
“What do you know about the love spell?”
“More than you know.”
Willow directed them down an alley, a path behind the houses that ran parallel to the street. With fewer lights, it was darker and more discrete than the front door. The garage was shut and there was no back entrance, but a second story window was open, it's hazy curtains shimmering in the breeze. Looking up at the window, Willow said, “It goes right to the master bedroom.”
Willow leaped up, grabbing onto the window ledge. Hanging by one hand, she asked, “Why did you pick the Haight?” After climbing through the window, she looked down to see why Willow hadn't joined her. At Willow's pout, she added, “Rentals rarely have nosy neighbors. You'd have fewer worries in the Tenderloin.”
“You sound just like Spike,” Willow grumbled, making her own leap up to the window. “He wanted the Mission district.” When Willow didn't reply, she pushed herself up on the ledge, throwing herself into the room, rolling forward until she was standing. “I wasn't going to live in the sunniest part of the city.”
Willow tugged at her arm, pulling her in for a kiss. “You don't like to be wrong,” she whispered. As Willow bristled against her, she said, “I know just how that feels.” They kissed for a few moments, tongues twisting together in Willow's mouth. Stepping back, she added, “But you should learn to take good advice. Spike has been around over a century. He knows some things you don't.”
At the sound of whimpering, Willow turned, getting her first good look at the room. The bed and dressers were utilitarian enough, although the dark cherry wood glowed as if someone had dusted recently. The dresser across from the foot of the bed, along and unwindowed wall, had a mirror above, which reflected the bed's black sheets but not the two women standing before it.
Hearing the whimpering again, Willow glanced at the closet. Crossing the room, Willow opened the door and yanked out a woman, a young thing in her mid-twenties, dressed in jeans and a torn shirt, with a rag stuffed into her mouth.
“Housesitter,” Willow said. “She deals with anyone who comes to the door. It's a nuisance, keeping her alive. I have to supervise her every second, but it does help avoid suspicion.” Petting her hand through dirty blond hair, Willow wrapped a strand around her fingers and tugged at it sharply. “We're going to have to bathe you again.”
The woman shrank back into the closet, as if it offered some sort of safety. “Bathe?” Willow asked.
“You'll see.”
“Come on,” Willow said, grabbing Willow's hand and shutting the closet door. “We can play with her later.” Running her hand down the cop shirt, she pushed it further open, pausing to rub her hands down Willow's torso. “Gee, Officer Krumpsky,” she said in a patently fake innocent voice. “Please don't pound me with your nightstick.”
“How do you know I have one?” Willow asked, acting just as innocent.
Willow smirked. “I would.” Noting Willow's glance at the dresser, the one with the mirror, she wandered over. “Now where could it be? Eeeny,” she said, pointing at one of two top drawers. “Meeny,” she added, pointing at the second top drawer. At Willow's grin, she opened it and pulled out a phallus, a black piece of plastic so huge it made her arm look small.
“Are you sure you don't want to get pounded?”
With a quick glance at the closet, Willow said, “Later.” Placing the dildo on the dresser, she took two steps to the bed, calling Willow over with a finger. As they climbed on, she grabbed Willow, rolling over until she was on her back. Pushing aside the cop's shirt, she leaned down, biting at a nipple until Willow hissed, arching her breast up into her mouth. Looking up, she caught Willow's gaze. “I can't wait to see what I look like squirming with desire, teetering on the brink, screaming out in ecstasy.”