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Tied Up

Season 4- Spike has his chip, no Tara. Oz broke up with Willow but didn't leave. This is heavily based on a dream I had before I woke up this afternoon.  In the original my family was fighting the demon and I was Willow's character, and I woke before the good stuff :(

*~*

Prologue
(yeah, my dreams have prologues)

Spike is on TV advertising the cult British sci-fi comedy Red Dwarf.  Worryingly, he's wearing a LOT of glitter and sequins.

*-*-*-*

Willow sat frozen in the large wingback chair, her friend's gathered closely around her.

*And why is it ME who is curled up in a chair with a freaky demon tucked in a hole underneath?*

She realized that Oz was there, and she momentarily forgot her fearful anger in a burst of Oz-related anger.  And then she saw Spike.

Instead of his duster, dark red shirt, black T-shirt and jeans, today - tonight - he wore a vivid red shirt with black leather trousers.  His skin glowed against the color, and she found herself mentally relaxing at the sight of him.

Buffy waited tensely in front of the chair, her arm drawn back in readiness with a spear.

"Where is he?"

"Willow, don't move."

*Not planning on it.*

"Remember Buffy, you have to thrust the spear into his shoulder."

"Can we, you know, flush him out?"

"Just be ready."

Willow moved slightly in discomfort, frowning.  She focused again on Spike. Vampire speed, right?

"Spike," she said softly, and his blue eyes moved instantly from the floor to her.

"Can you get me out of here?" she begged, holding up her hands in pleading helplessness.

"Sure, pet."

Xander reached out to stop him, holding back Spike's arm.  The vampire growled, shoving Xander's arm away from him.  Spike's expression grew strangely blank, and then he punched Xander in the stomach.  The boy buckled, gasping for breath, and Spike's eyes flared before he smiled beatifically.

"Hey!" he shouted happily, while Xander wheezed on the floor.

*Oh, now I'll never get out of this chair!*

Spike let out another delighted shout, and then suddenly he was on the chair with Willow.  He knelt above her, his strong knees gripping at either side of her thighs.

"Hello, pet," he said huskily.

She lifted her face to him with a slow smile.  "You look nice."

Willow then gave a small gasp for breath as he dropped a searing kiss to her lips.  She met his mouth hungrily, her tongue entwining with his.  Her hands moved to his shoulders, drawing him against her.

And then he was gone.

"You bloody bitch!" Spike howled, glaring at Buffy, who had turned away from him again to watch for the demon.  When he realized she was ignoring him, he pouted and began to pace instead, leaving the others to deal with the demon.

*Is he waiting for me?  Dammit, I'm still stuck in the chair!*

Chaos erupted with it, as the demon shot forth, and Willow gave a cry of desperation as she saw Buffy entangled with it, face to face.  Buffy needed to stab it in the back, there was no way she could find the leverage or the target while she was facing it.

The demon and slayer struggled, twisting before her.  No-one else stepped in, half-guarding Willow from Spike and also waiting in readiness if Buffy needed them.

Finally there was a rush of movement, and the demon sprawled against the wall, a metal spike buried in its chest and fixing it to the wall.  Buffy raised her spear again, pulling the demon's right shoulder from the wall and baring the mark she had to pierce.

The demon stiffened as the spear thrust through its shoulder, dark yellow liquid oozing from the exit wound in its chest.

"Ew," Buffy commented, wrinkling her nose.  And then she turned cold eyes to Spike.

He let out an unmanly, unvampirely yelp as she closed in on him with the rest of her friends.  Xander and Anya sat on his struggling form to hold him down while Buffy drew his arms forward and snapped on a pair of handcuffs.

*And just what is Buffy doing running around with handcuffs?*

Spike roared as he was cuffed, trying to twist out from under Anya and Xander.  "No!  Damn you, let me go!"

They ignored him, and while Willow watched, still stiffly confined in her chair, they banded together to pile things on him.  Wood, other furniture from the room, boxes and heavy books were all piled atop the indignant vampire.

*Just as well he doesn't need to breathe.*

As Buffy surveyed her work, Xander came up behind her with a can of yellow paint.  He grinned and drew forth a medium sized brush, dripping with pale yellow paint.  He swiped it once across Spike's twisting face, leaving it striped in yellow.

"That's for the punch, best buddy Spike," he gloated.

"You're all going to die," Spike vowed.  "No thanks for lookin' after me anymore, your guts are gonna be bird food.  All ready in nice tiny pieces.  And you first, you bloody little prick."

"You kiss your daddy with that mouth, Spike?" Xander smirked.  Buffy shot him a glare, but Anya snorted with laughter.

"Come on, guys, I think we've done enough here," Buffy suggested, and Willow watched them troop out, not waiting for her to follow.

Spike's forehead was pressed against the ground, his handcuffed hands stretched out before him.  He was groaning and muttering lowly as she uncurled her legs and moved off the chair.

When she stepped closer, he raised his head.  She bit her lip concernedly at the anger in his eyes, then harder as she looked at the paint on his face.

"Go away," he said sullenly, resting his head back on the floor.

Willow obeyed him silently, at least as far as to step around his hidden form.  Resolved, she began to lift the debris from him.  After several minutes, she heard his voice again.

"What are ya doin', pet?" he asked quietly.

"Letting you go," she answered, struggling to remove a wooden coffee table from his back.

"Ah.  Um, you did realize that I got my bite back?"

"Yup.  You wanna stop talking?  This is kind of hard work, and I don't think you're in a position to help me."  She kept her tone even as she steadily freed him.

"Right.  Sure, luv."

As his body was cleared, she saw that his shirt was dusty and torn, and gave a small sigh.  Finally he was able to move, and rolled and sat up to clear the last of the debris himself.

She moved back to face him, and his eyes fixed upon her, burning in.

*Hunger, or, well, another sort of hunger?*

"I don't have the keys," she told him regretfully.

He regarded her a moment, his lip quirking.

"Doesn't have to matter," he answered hoarsely.

*-*-*-*

She knelt in front of him, and gently kissed him.  He met her movement, and their tongues entwined hungrily again.

Spike moved his arms to hold her, then growled against her lips as he found his hands confined.  She drew back for breath, and smiled.

"You know, this is nice."

Spike scowled.  "What, because I'm all safe and bound, and can't hurt you?"

"*No*," she retorted, running her hands over his strong shoulders.  "Because you're *tied up.*"

His scowl changed to a grin.  "Kinky."

She unbuttoned his shirt, admiring his pale chest as it came into view.  Her fingertips brushed over his nipples, and he closed his eyes momentarily, his face tense with pleasure.

Willow started to slide his shirt off, then growled as she encountered the handcuffs.

"Thank Goddess your ankles aren't chained together," she sighed, pulling the shirt back up.

He cocked an eyebrow.  "I don't make love with my ankles, luv."

"Oh, *that's*  how you do it?" she teased, wide-eyed.  "And who said we were making love?"

She ripped open the buttons on his pants with a single yank, and his eyes flared as his hard cock was set free.

"*I* did, pet," he murmured huskily, then hissed as he fingers closed around his shaft.  "Seeing as- oh God- as I like you so much and all."

Her hand halted.  "You do?"

"Bloody hell, yes," he replied, thrusting against her still hand.  "Why do you think I stayed?  It bloody wasn't for the others."

"Well, hell," she said in surprise.

He moaned as her thumb traced over the head of his cock, and she winked at him.  "Let's get on with making love, then."

Willow pulled off her sweater, and quickly unclasped her bra.

"Oh, *yeah,*" Spike said reverently, then groaned in frustration as her tried to take both her breasts in his hands.  He succeeded in holding them, but didn't have enough leverage to move his thumbs more than just across her nipples.

Willow lifted his hands and dropped them over her neck, moving closer to his cool body.  His straining cock sought beneath her short skirt and against her already wet panties, and she moaned, then refocused her attention.  She lifted herself to his face, her breast falling against his mouth.

His cool lips eagerly closed over her tender flesh, his tongue sweeping over and then suckling her nipple.  He made pleased murmurs against her skin as he nibbled and caressed, and his cock nudged at her increasingly wet heat.

Spike shifted his attention from one straining, swollen peak to the other, and Willow moaned.  She stood, bending over to keep his mouth satisfied, and quickly unzipped her skirt and stepped out of her panties.  When she knelt again she drew his pants to his ankles, running her hands over the coarse hair of his calves and strong thighs before resting against his hard cock.

He drew away from her breasts, leaving both buds pink and taut, lifting his arms back over her head.

"Willow," he whispered, his eyes tender as she kissed him again, her arms locked about his neck.

His hands were trapped between their two bodies, and he cunningly moved his fingers to twist her clit.  She arched against him, fresh juices running from her wet cunt.

"Spike," she murmured against his mouth, moaning as his fingers continued to work her arousal.

Breathless as she neared her orgasm, Willow drew her arms down to take his hands, settling them back over her neck.  She wrapped one of her own arms about his neck, and dropped the other to his cock as she moved closer against him.

She guided him to meet her, crying out as his cool length surged into her warm, wet flesh.  He thrust deeply into her cunt, stretching her walls more than ever before, filling her completely.

They kissed again as they moved in tandem, Willow arching to meet Spike's powerful thrusts.  Their tongues moved deep in each other's mouths, and Willow moved one hand to her clit as her other hand held him still closer.

As she rubbed her clit and felt her cunt clench tighter around his cock, Spike let his hands fall from her neck to her ass.  He cupped one round cheek lovingly, then pulled her even further against him, his cock sinking seemingly further inside her.

She rubbed her cheek against his face as she felt it ripple and change, and he purred softly.

"Spike, oh Spike," she babbled, surging wildly against him.  He gave a low, half-purr, half-growl, and thrust forcefully into her cunt.  She screamed, her head falling back as she arched her body against him.

Spike's head fell to her breast as she began to shake, her walls gripping him powerfully.  His fangs bit neatly into the pale skin, and as she cried out and throbbed about him again, and the hot blood spilled into his mouth, he grunted and shot his seed inside her.

Willow watched Spike lap tenderly at the blood on her breast, as her cunt pulsed gently and his softened cock slipped from her.

"Oh, my," she said quietly, her hands running over his now smooth face.

He grinned, licking his lips, and then kissed her.  She melted against him again, then drew back.

Willow laughed at his pleading expression.  "Come on, Spike, it's nearly dawn.  As fun as it might be to stay here, I'd like to have you *not* handcuffed next time."

He beamed at her words.  "Can't argue with that, luv.  Fine, pull me pants back up and I'll follow you like the love-sick puppy I am."

She laughed again, helping him to stand and then kissing him as she buttoned his pants.

"Well, love-sick puppy, you keep pleasing your mistress like *that* and I might let you sleep on the end of my bed at nights."

"The end?" he enquired, rubbing his hands over her ass and nuzzling her neck as she drew up her skirt.

"Oh... maybe in it..." she said breathlessly, as he slid his lips over hers again.

He grinned at her as he pulled away, and she shrugged into her sweater.

"You know, your friends are gonna stake me for this," he frowned.

Willow linked her arm through his.  "Spike.  You have yellow paint on your face.  I think they deserve whatever they get."

He ran a hand over the stripe with a groan.  "Damn right.  That stupid cow of a slayer!  And *Chubs*!  I'm gonna *kill* him!  Ow, oh, ow, oh fuck, oh fuck, no I'm not.  Ow.  Oh, FUCK!"