Buffy
the Vampire Slayer
Doctor
Who
Enjoy!
Revenge, Vampire Style
Spike
knocked on the door to Willow's dorm room and waited, practically
bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. The time had finally
come, and he was anxious to get to it.
"Who is it?" Willow called out.
"William the Bloody," he called back with a grin. A couple of students walking by turned to stare at him. He glared back, daring them to say, or do anything. They hurried on their way.
He heard Willow snort rudely before saying, "Um, come in... I guess."
Spike turned the knob and went inside. Willow was sitting at her desk, typing something up on her computer. He shut the door loudly, waiting for her to face him before pointedly locking the door. "Not very smart for a friend of the Slayer's."
She frowned at him as if he'd insulted her. "I'm a witch, I know spells and stuff. Plus, as you just pointed out, Buffy's the Slayer. What more protection do I need?"
He rolled his eyes, snorting in contempt. "Spells and stuff. Right." He knew first hand what her spells could do. Knew it, and really didn't like it. He sniffed in disgust, smelling Buffy's scent all over the room.
Willow's frown grew when he remained silent. She watched him for a second, her eyes sliding back to her computer. She was anxious to get back to whatever she was doing. "Um, you know, Buffy's not here, if you came to see her, she's with--"
"Captain Shags-a-lot," he interrupted, nodding. "I know. Didn't come to see her." He sneered at her, but she had already turned back to her computer. Well that was rude. Here he was trying to be evil and put on a nice show of it for her and she wasn't even paying attention to him.
"Oh," she said absently, her fingers moving quickly across the keyboard, clacking away like there was no tomorrow. "What'd you need?" She spared him a small, quick glance before turning right back to the screen. "Demon info?" The glow from the screen made her appear paler than she actually was, giving her the pallor of a vampire.
He hadn't lied to her months back when he told her he'd bite her in a heartbeat... she was entirely enticing in that manner. Innocent and vulnerable. And sexy as hell to boot.
He sat down on Buffy's bed, watching her. Settling back against the headboard, he made sure to put his booted feet on the blankets, hoping a little mud and dirt would ruin the Slayer's pristine sheets.
It irritated him that Willow didn't even flinch or bother to keep him in sight. He wasn't a threat to her anymore. And since she was the weakest one of their group, even with her spells, that was insulting. He glared at her back, but his words were even, no hint of his ire in his voice. "Why would you think I'd want information from you?" He lowered his voice, eyeing her neck hungrily. "What could you possibly have to tell me that I don't already know?"
She sighed, turning in her chair to face him. "Then why are you here? And, hey! Get your feet off of her bed. You're getting it all dirty." Her arms went over her chest, crossed with a pointed glare at his booted feet.
He ground his feet into Buffy's bed before standing up. This wasn't going the way he'd wanted it to. The way he'd imagined it.
"Doesn't matter, pet." He moved closer to her, staring at the pulse point in her neck. She had a faint scar from Harmony's bite, but other than that, her neck was perfect. Just right for the tasting. Or the tearing out and drinking. Either way.
She reached up, wrapping her hands around her neck, pretending to rub out an ache, but he knew bloody well she was hiding it from him. "Do you mind?"
"Not really, no." He let his face change, watching the fear creep into her eyes, then all the way across her face. She was frightened, but she didn't want him to know it. He inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of her fear, wanting to taste it.
She stood up hastily and pushed by him, stopping in the middle of the room to face him. "Wh-- what do you want, Spike?" Her heartbeat was gaining speed with every second, and her eyes kept flicking from him to the door.
He moved causally in front of the door, cutting off her avenue of escape.
"What do I want?" He pretended to think seriously on her question, gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "What do I want." Dropping his eyes to her face, he grinned, showing lots of fang. "You," he answered.
She bolted for the door, not caring if he was standing in front of it or not. He grabbed her easily by her arms and spun her around. He pressed her to him, holding her tightly so that her back was flush against his chest. Nuzzling her neck, he drew in a deep breath, marveling at how much fear she was giving off. And it was all for him.
"Someone's afraid," he singsonged. She tried to pull away from him, but he held on tight, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms. "Whoa, whoa, whoa... leaving so soon?" He spun her around, holding her at arms length as he ran his eyes over her. "We're just getting started, love."
Her eyes were incredibly wide and frightened, making him feel all manly again. "But, the chip--"
"Gone," he confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. "Or, more accurately, malfunctioning. But who am I to split hairs?" His grin widened as he lifted her up and threw her backwards. She landed on her back on her bed, bouncing a couple of times. He heard a loud thump as her head smacked into the wall and winced almost imperceptibly.
"Ow," she moaned, moving her hand to the back of her head. She glared at him for all she was worth, poised to run. When he tilted his head at her, she glared some more, trying unsuccessfully to kill him with a look. He smirked, and stalked over to her.
"Sorry about the head, didn't mean to--" he shrugged, chuckling as he rolled his shoulders back. "Still, it was a nice bonus."
She looked away, trying not to let him see the pain and hurt written plainly across her face, but he could see it, and it tasted wonderful.
"Buffy's gonna be here soon," she told him bravely, fixing her eyes right on his. He admired that a little. "And Riley," she insisted. "M-- maybe even Xander too." Her voice only shook a little.
He laughed, a bit cruelly he'd have to admit, but necessarily. "Not likely, love. I left them at the Watcher's... they won't be coming to your rescue." He sighed dramatically, as if it pained him to say the rest, but he had to tally on despite the pain. "Ever." He watched realization dawn, loving the sweet way tears sprang to her eyes. She was so caring and trusting. So nonjudgmental. It was touching, really.
She gasped a few times, panting for breath, and tried to scoot away from him. With her back to the wall, she was stuck. There was nowhere to go.
He knelt on the foot of the bed, grabbing her ankles and yanking her back down. She screamed, kicking and hitting at him, trying to shove him off of her, shoving with all her strength, but she couldn't budge him.
He crawled up the bed, straddling her waist with a smirk. She bucked wildly, trying to dislodge him. All she succeeded in doing was pulling her pretty purple blouse out of her jeans. It rode up, giving him a nice view of her flat, pale stomach and the plain white bra covering her breasts.
He sighed happily, sitting back on his heels. "Brings back memories, doesn't it, Willow? You, me, this bed. Good times."
She yanked her shirt down, trying to tuck it back into her jeans. "Just kill me already," she told him, avoiding looking into his face.
"Ah, putting on a brave front." He shook his head with a chuckle. "Works better on people who can't smell your fear... or hear your heart pounding..." he caressed her cheek with one hand. "I can even see it on your face." His other hand drifted lower, his fingers sliding under the waistband of her jeans.
She sucked in a breath, shifting desperately to get away from his questing fingers. Her hands, pressed flat against the mattress, pushed and clawed, trying to move. A sob slipped out, dragged back inside by a shuddering breath.
His eyes stayed steady on her face as he closed his fingers around the hem of her blouse and dragged it free of her jeans. Her breath left her in a relieved rush, her mouth closing on another sob.
He slid both hands under the shirt, spanning her waist, slowly pushing her shirt up, exposing her stomach to his hungry eyes. It'd been so long since he'd had any contact with a woman. Well, there was Harmony. And she was one hell of a shag, but Willow... she was human and afraid and this was turning him on more than he'd thought it would.
She seemed to realize suddenly that her hands were still free. She shoved at his arms and tried to yank her blouse back down, but he snarled at her, refusing to let go of the flimsy material. Taking both of her hands in one of his, he held them above her head.
"Oh, come on now, give a man a touch, hmm?" She struggled harder at his words, moving underneath him in the most delightful way. Just for fun, he loosened his hold on her hands, letting her get free... but just a little. She clawed at him and pushed, kicking her legs behind him. He couldn't help but chuckle as he leaned down and whispered, "That's it, keep it coming, love... this is vampire foreplay."
She shoved her hand against his chest. His skin started to burn and tingle uncomfortably. He jerked back into a sitting position, staring down at the large wooden cross she had pressed against his chest.
"We all have our crosses to bear, I guess," she smirked, fully expecting him to run screaming from the room.
He really hated to disappoint her, but that wasn't going to be happening any time soon. He laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I think that may actually be the cheesiest line I've ever heard." Shrugging, keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he reached down and pressed her hand tighter on him, careful to keep his own hand from touching the cross.
The smell of burning flesh permeated the room, and smoke was rising from him. He was in excruciating pain, but it was a good kind of pain. Like he'd told her, vampire foreplay. He leaned down and licked her neck, barely resisting the urge to sink his teeth into her flesh. The pulse point was right there, and she smelled so good, even through the smell of his own burning flesh.
She yanked her hand out from between them and shoved him away from her neck. The cross fell to the bed. She grabbed for it, but he got to it first. He picked it up, immediately throwing it across the room. It hit the wall beside Buffy's bed and landed harmlessly on the floor.
He lifted his shirt, examining the cross mark now burned into his chest. It was directly in the middle, a little high, but in a good place. He lifted just his eyes, grinning at her. "Hurts so good." It was so fun playing with her. She had an extremely expressive face, and she let it all get to her.
She screwed her face up in disgust, shrinking away from him. "You're sick. And disgusting."
"No." He grabbed her hands, holding them above her head. Her shirt rode up further, exposing half of one white-covered breast. His eyes lowered to the material, his body warming at the site, but it was his voice she paid attention to; it was cold and dripping with disdain. "Disgusting is what I was when I had the implant. Disgusting is having to go against every instinct in your body. Disgusting," he bit out, raising his eyes to her face, "is what you are. At least that pathetic group you call friends kept their distance. Not you. You had to be nice, trying to befriend the demon." He freed one of his hands, holding both of hers in one hand above her head, pressing them hard into the pillow. He absently ran his free hand across her abdomen as he talked, his eyes burning into hers. "I've got news for you, love. All those attempts at being friendly? Never worked. I was using you."
She frowned, dropping her eyes to his chest, the hurt on her face plain as can be. "Liar."
He grinned down at her. "I don't really think you're in a position," he pressed himself on her legs, reminding her just what position she was in before continuing, "to call anyone a liar, do you?"
She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side.
He stared down at her in surprise. She was giving up? Just like that? Well that was disappointing. Where was the fight? He'd expected much more than this from Willow. She was no Buffy, but she had spunk to her when she was tested. Hadn't she stood up to Giles over those blasted Chumash Indians?
Give them some land, she'd said, while they were maiming and killing... huh. Why wasn't she fighting for her life, damn it?
He leaned down and licked her jaw, just under her ear. He was only nipping lightly, hoping to get a rise out of her, but she remained just as still as before. He frowned, pulling back to lick his lips. Her skin tasted salty and-- something else. Glancing down at her, he curled his lip in disgust. Makeup. Why did women have to wear that rubbish, didn't they know how nasty it tasted?
Drifting lower, where he hoped her skin was makeup-free, he licked at her pulse point, scraping his teeth lightly, so lightly. But it was hard. Hard not to just sink his teeth deep into her throat and rip the skin free, feasting on her blood like he used to.
His teeth, of their own volition, without any prompting from him, slid in, just the slightest bit, before stopping. Halting himself from sinking them in further, he held still, panting against her neck. That was as far as he could go, absolutely as far as he could go.
His eyes slid shut as the taste of her blood welled up in his mouth. Oh God, it'd been so long. So bloody long. Darting his tongue out to lap at the blood, he pressed his lips tightly around her flesh and drew her blood in. Just one taste, that's all he needed, but he couldn't stop himself from sinking his fangs completely into her neck, the overwhelming pleasure taking the edge off the jolt of pain. She was soft and feminine in all the right ways. And beautiful to boot.
She gasped harshly when his teeth pierced her flesh, but didn't cry out or scream. Admiration for her leapt to the fore again.
He sucked at her blood for a full minute, slowly, so very slowly, then forced himself to pull away, letting his face go back to human. She breathed a sigh of relief, her whole body going limp underneath him, but she stiffened up again when he pressed his lips roughly against hers. He kissed her thoroughly, forcing his tongue into her mouth, forcing her to taste her own blood, forcing her to respond to him.
When she did, when she finally started to breathe again and relax against him, he jumped off of her and strolled unhurriedly to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and turned to look back at her.
She opened her eyes slowly, frowning at him. The frown was quickly turned into a glare as she slapped her hand against her bleeding neck. Her chest rose and fell with heavy pants, her blouse still shoved up, exposing her breasts and abdomen.
He smiled slowly, thinking she was more than just beautiful with her hair all wild and her face flushed. Sliding his eyes from her breasts to her face, he nodded at her, opening the door. "Oh, uh... April Fools." And then he was gone.
He chuckled to himself as he left her dorm, barely feeling the cross burns and implant headache. Revenge really was sweet. Marrying the Slayer, indeed, that should teach Willow to take more care with her spells.
"Who is it?" Willow called out.
"William the Bloody," he called back with a grin. A couple of students walking by turned to stare at him. He glared back, daring them to say, or do anything. They hurried on their way.
He heard Willow snort rudely before saying, "Um, come in... I guess."
Spike turned the knob and went inside. Willow was sitting at her desk, typing something up on her computer. He shut the door loudly, waiting for her to face him before pointedly locking the door. "Not very smart for a friend of the Slayer's."
She frowned at him as if he'd insulted her. "I'm a witch, I know spells and stuff. Plus, as you just pointed out, Buffy's the Slayer. What more protection do I need?"
He rolled his eyes, snorting in contempt. "Spells and stuff. Right." He knew first hand what her spells could do. Knew it, and really didn't like it. He sniffed in disgust, smelling Buffy's scent all over the room.
Willow's frown grew when he remained silent. She watched him for a second, her eyes sliding back to her computer. She was anxious to get back to whatever she was doing. "Um, you know, Buffy's not here, if you came to see her, she's with--"
"Captain Shags-a-lot," he interrupted, nodding. "I know. Didn't come to see her." He sneered at her, but she had already turned back to her computer. Well that was rude. Here he was trying to be evil and put on a nice show of it for her and she wasn't even paying attention to him.
"Oh," she said absently, her fingers moving quickly across the keyboard, clacking away like there was no tomorrow. "What'd you need?" She spared him a small, quick glance before turning right back to the screen. "Demon info?" The glow from the screen made her appear paler than she actually was, giving her the pallor of a vampire.
He hadn't lied to her months back when he told her he'd bite her in a heartbeat... she was entirely enticing in that manner. Innocent and vulnerable. And sexy as hell to boot.
He sat down on Buffy's bed, watching her. Settling back against the headboard, he made sure to put his booted feet on the blankets, hoping a little mud and dirt would ruin the Slayer's pristine sheets.
It irritated him that Willow didn't even flinch or bother to keep him in sight. He wasn't a threat to her anymore. And since she was the weakest one of their group, even with her spells, that was insulting. He glared at her back, but his words were even, no hint of his ire in his voice. "Why would you think I'd want information from you?" He lowered his voice, eyeing her neck hungrily. "What could you possibly have to tell me that I don't already know?"
She sighed, turning in her chair to face him. "Then why are you here? And, hey! Get your feet off of her bed. You're getting it all dirty." Her arms went over her chest, crossed with a pointed glare at his booted feet.
He ground his feet into Buffy's bed before standing up. This wasn't going the way he'd wanted it to. The way he'd imagined it.
"Doesn't matter, pet." He moved closer to her, staring at the pulse point in her neck. She had a faint scar from Harmony's bite, but other than that, her neck was perfect. Just right for the tasting. Or the tearing out and drinking. Either way.
She reached up, wrapping her hands around her neck, pretending to rub out an ache, but he knew bloody well she was hiding it from him. "Do you mind?"
"Not really, no." He let his face change, watching the fear creep into her eyes, then all the way across her face. She was frightened, but she didn't want him to know it. He inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of her fear, wanting to taste it.
She stood up hastily and pushed by him, stopping in the middle of the room to face him. "Wh-- what do you want, Spike?" Her heartbeat was gaining speed with every second, and her eyes kept flicking from him to the door.
He moved causally in front of the door, cutting off her avenue of escape.
"What do I want?" He pretended to think seriously on her question, gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "What do I want." Dropping his eyes to her face, he grinned, showing lots of fang. "You," he answered.
She bolted for the door, not caring if he was standing in front of it or not. He grabbed her easily by her arms and spun her around. He pressed her to him, holding her tightly so that her back was flush against his chest. Nuzzling her neck, he drew in a deep breath, marveling at how much fear she was giving off. And it was all for him.
"Someone's afraid," he singsonged. She tried to pull away from him, but he held on tight, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms. "Whoa, whoa, whoa... leaving so soon?" He spun her around, holding her at arms length as he ran his eyes over her. "We're just getting started, love."
Her eyes were incredibly wide and frightened, making him feel all manly again. "But, the chip--"
"Gone," he confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. "Or, more accurately, malfunctioning. But who am I to split hairs?" His grin widened as he lifted her up and threw her backwards. She landed on her back on her bed, bouncing a couple of times. He heard a loud thump as her head smacked into the wall and winced almost imperceptibly.
"Ow," she moaned, moving her hand to the back of her head. She glared at him for all she was worth, poised to run. When he tilted his head at her, she glared some more, trying unsuccessfully to kill him with a look. He smirked, and stalked over to her.
"Sorry about the head, didn't mean to--" he shrugged, chuckling as he rolled his shoulders back. "Still, it was a nice bonus."
She looked away, trying not to let him see the pain and hurt written plainly across her face, but he could see it, and it tasted wonderful.
"Buffy's gonna be here soon," she told him bravely, fixing her eyes right on his. He admired that a little. "And Riley," she insisted. "M-- maybe even Xander too." Her voice only shook a little.
He laughed, a bit cruelly he'd have to admit, but necessarily. "Not likely, love. I left them at the Watcher's... they won't be coming to your rescue." He sighed dramatically, as if it pained him to say the rest, but he had to tally on despite the pain. "Ever." He watched realization dawn, loving the sweet way tears sprang to her eyes. She was so caring and trusting. So nonjudgmental. It was touching, really.
She gasped a few times, panting for breath, and tried to scoot away from him. With her back to the wall, she was stuck. There was nowhere to go.
He knelt on the foot of the bed, grabbing her ankles and yanking her back down. She screamed, kicking and hitting at him, trying to shove him off of her, shoving with all her strength, but she couldn't budge him.
He crawled up the bed, straddling her waist with a smirk. She bucked wildly, trying to dislodge him. All she succeeded in doing was pulling her pretty purple blouse out of her jeans. It rode up, giving him a nice view of her flat, pale stomach and the plain white bra covering her breasts.
He sighed happily, sitting back on his heels. "Brings back memories, doesn't it, Willow? You, me, this bed. Good times."
She yanked her shirt down, trying to tuck it back into her jeans. "Just kill me already," she told him, avoiding looking into his face.
"Ah, putting on a brave front." He shook his head with a chuckle. "Works better on people who can't smell your fear... or hear your heart pounding..." he caressed her cheek with one hand. "I can even see it on your face." His other hand drifted lower, his fingers sliding under the waistband of her jeans.
She sucked in a breath, shifting desperately to get away from his questing fingers. Her hands, pressed flat against the mattress, pushed and clawed, trying to move. A sob slipped out, dragged back inside by a shuddering breath.
His eyes stayed steady on her face as he closed his fingers around the hem of her blouse and dragged it free of her jeans. Her breath left her in a relieved rush, her mouth closing on another sob.
He slid both hands under the shirt, spanning her waist, slowly pushing her shirt up, exposing her stomach to his hungry eyes. It'd been so long since he'd had any contact with a woman. Well, there was Harmony. And she was one hell of a shag, but Willow... she was human and afraid and this was turning him on more than he'd thought it would.
She seemed to realize suddenly that her hands were still free. She shoved at his arms and tried to yank her blouse back down, but he snarled at her, refusing to let go of the flimsy material. Taking both of her hands in one of his, he held them above her head.
"Oh, come on now, give a man a touch, hmm?" She struggled harder at his words, moving underneath him in the most delightful way. Just for fun, he loosened his hold on her hands, letting her get free... but just a little. She clawed at him and pushed, kicking her legs behind him. He couldn't help but chuckle as he leaned down and whispered, "That's it, keep it coming, love... this is vampire foreplay."
She shoved her hand against his chest. His skin started to burn and tingle uncomfortably. He jerked back into a sitting position, staring down at the large wooden cross she had pressed against his chest.
"We all have our crosses to bear, I guess," she smirked, fully expecting him to run screaming from the room.
He really hated to disappoint her, but that wasn't going to be happening any time soon. He laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I think that may actually be the cheesiest line I've ever heard." Shrugging, keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he reached down and pressed her hand tighter on him, careful to keep his own hand from touching the cross.
The smell of burning flesh permeated the room, and smoke was rising from him. He was in excruciating pain, but it was a good kind of pain. Like he'd told her, vampire foreplay. He leaned down and licked her neck, barely resisting the urge to sink his teeth into her flesh. The pulse point was right there, and she smelled so good, even through the smell of his own burning flesh.
She yanked her hand out from between them and shoved him away from her neck. The cross fell to the bed. She grabbed for it, but he got to it first. He picked it up, immediately throwing it across the room. It hit the wall beside Buffy's bed and landed harmlessly on the floor.
He lifted his shirt, examining the cross mark now burned into his chest. It was directly in the middle, a little high, but in a good place. He lifted just his eyes, grinning at her. "Hurts so good." It was so fun playing with her. She had an extremely expressive face, and she let it all get to her.
She screwed her face up in disgust, shrinking away from him. "You're sick. And disgusting."
"No." He grabbed her hands, holding them above her head. Her shirt rode up further, exposing half of one white-covered breast. His eyes lowered to the material, his body warming at the site, but it was his voice she paid attention to; it was cold and dripping with disdain. "Disgusting is what I was when I had the implant. Disgusting is having to go against every instinct in your body. Disgusting," he bit out, raising his eyes to her face, "is what you are. At least that pathetic group you call friends kept their distance. Not you. You had to be nice, trying to befriend the demon." He freed one of his hands, holding both of hers in one hand above her head, pressing them hard into the pillow. He absently ran his free hand across her abdomen as he talked, his eyes burning into hers. "I've got news for you, love. All those attempts at being friendly? Never worked. I was using you."
She frowned, dropping her eyes to his chest, the hurt on her face plain as can be. "Liar."
He grinned down at her. "I don't really think you're in a position," he pressed himself on her legs, reminding her just what position she was in before continuing, "to call anyone a liar, do you?"
She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side.
He stared down at her in surprise. She was giving up? Just like that? Well that was disappointing. Where was the fight? He'd expected much more than this from Willow. She was no Buffy, but she had spunk to her when she was tested. Hadn't she stood up to Giles over those blasted Chumash Indians?
Give them some land, she'd said, while they were maiming and killing... huh. Why wasn't she fighting for her life, damn it?
He leaned down and licked her jaw, just under her ear. He was only nipping lightly, hoping to get a rise out of her, but she remained just as still as before. He frowned, pulling back to lick his lips. Her skin tasted salty and-- something else. Glancing down at her, he curled his lip in disgust. Makeup. Why did women have to wear that rubbish, didn't they know how nasty it tasted?
Drifting lower, where he hoped her skin was makeup-free, he licked at her pulse point, scraping his teeth lightly, so lightly. But it was hard. Hard not to just sink his teeth deep into her throat and rip the skin free, feasting on her blood like he used to.
His teeth, of their own volition, without any prompting from him, slid in, just the slightest bit, before stopping. Halting himself from sinking them in further, he held still, panting against her neck. That was as far as he could go, absolutely as far as he could go.
His eyes slid shut as the taste of her blood welled up in his mouth. Oh God, it'd been so long. So bloody long. Darting his tongue out to lap at the blood, he pressed his lips tightly around her flesh and drew her blood in. Just one taste, that's all he needed, but he couldn't stop himself from sinking his fangs completely into her neck, the overwhelming pleasure taking the edge off the jolt of pain. She was soft and feminine in all the right ways. And beautiful to boot.
She gasped harshly when his teeth pierced her flesh, but didn't cry out or scream. Admiration for her leapt to the fore again.
He sucked at her blood for a full minute, slowly, so very slowly, then forced himself to pull away, letting his face go back to human. She breathed a sigh of relief, her whole body going limp underneath him, but she stiffened up again when he pressed his lips roughly against hers. He kissed her thoroughly, forcing his tongue into her mouth, forcing her to taste her own blood, forcing her to respond to him.
When she did, when she finally started to breathe again and relax against him, he jumped off of her and strolled unhurriedly to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and turned to look back at her.
She opened her eyes slowly, frowning at him. The frown was quickly turned into a glare as she slapped her hand against her bleeding neck. Her chest rose and fell with heavy pants, her blouse still shoved up, exposing her breasts and abdomen.
He smiled slowly, thinking she was more than just beautiful with her hair all wild and her face flushed. Sliding his eyes from her breasts to her face, he nodded at her, opening the door. "Oh, uh... April Fools." And then he was gone.
He chuckled to himself as he left her dorm, barely feeling the cross burns and implant headache. Revenge really was sweet. Marrying the Slayer, indeed, that should teach Willow to take more care with her spells.
9-15-07
