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snoggedTitle: Change the Addiction (6/?)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 2006
Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17 for sexual situations and language
Setting: An alternate route from Season 6 - "Wrecked"
Summary: The best way to get over an addiction is to change it...
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spikesredqueen andvelvetwhip. Thank you both so much for putting up with me! I also want to thank all of my loyal readers because your support means the world to me.
A/N: Well over a year ago, I started writing the Addiction Series based off a drabble I did for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
btvsats_love that explored what Season 6 might be like if Spike had been part of Willow's magic intervention. It never got where I wanted it to, and this is my shot to look at it again with fresher eyes. I hope you like the journey!
Previous Chapters
Fromblondebitz
Fromangelstoy
The next morning, Spike can still smell the warm softness of Willow on his sheets as he lies down on top of them. His eyes drift towards the stone ceiling of his crypt, focusing on deep cracks and gouges formed from one of the many earthquakes that had rocked this California town.
The scent of her makes him feel heady with the sort of sensation that he can’t recall feeling for the Slayer. It’s not the type of scent that wiggles it’s away under the skin, and devours the host until there’s nothing left. There are no notes of obsession, or madness, or masochism.
It is, however, the type of scent he wants to savor over and over again. It’s an olfactory craving that he can feel course through his veins.
Most of all, the sweet, strawberry smell leaves him with an understanding that his motives for helping Willow run deeper than he ever could have fathomed…and from what he saw last night in her submission to his tongue, he’s willing to wager that she’s feeling the same way right about now.
‘Course, there’s no way for him to verify that at the moment with her being away at the Magic Box tending to Anya’s new shipment of slug-scented candles and chattering about what color streamers should decorate the furniture at Buffy’s birthday tonight.
As his mind rolls around Buffy’s name, Spike inhales an unnecessary breath and leans over the bed, pulling a beaten-up pack of cigarettes and his lighter from the inside pocket of his leather duster. He pulls a tube from the pack, sticks it between his lips, and flicks the lighter. The cigarette’s end glows ember red and his lungs suck in the rich tobacco smoke.
The idea of spending six hours with that haughty bitch breathing down his neck while that idiot boy, Xander. ruins his vocal chords singing the Birthday song doesn’t sound like something high on his priority list.
But Willow did extend an invitation, and it would likely earn some brownie points with her. Especially since she’s desperate enough to let him do anything in his power to keep her from down-spiraling into the dark magic again…it really is the least he could do.
Drawing in another puff of smoke, he sighs deeply, feeling the burn course through his veins. Maybe tonight he would push her a little further over the razor-sharp edge of their agreement, show her what its like to really taste the darkness and oblivion he can offer her, and bury her problems once and for all under a sheen of sweat and a few carnal screams.
And that’s a party he wouldn’t want to miss.
***
Willow stands in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she analyzes her outfit choice for the evening. The knee-length black skirt looks okay, but the peasant shirt looks lumpy, and being lumpy for Buffy’s party sounds like a really bad idea. Especially with Spike coming.
A blush heats her cheeks at the thought of the blond vampire making her come the night before, and her fingers grip the hem of the top, half-heartedly tugging at the fabric. She still can’t believe that she let him slide his tongue between her legs, that she let him wind her body up like a toy until her body let go of the tension with some sort of crazy whoosh.
Everything Spike did to her, everything he said to her, every look he gave her felt like a challenge to her moral structure. She’d been raised to think that love and commitment were supposed to come before physical intimacy, and even though Spike had made the commitment to take care of her, to heal her of her addictions…she didn’t love him.
Yes, she definitely feels something for him, but it isn’t the same sort of feeling she had for Oz or that she has for Tara. It’s something far different. Something that’s more under the skin, more like an ultimate thrill, or an adrenaline surge. Something that’s more like blindly falling off the edge of a cliff, instead of something that’s like falling into a safety net.
She tugs at the shirt again, and glances in the mirror, letting satisfaction settle in the pit of her stomach. “It’s about as lumpless as it’s gonna get,” she mutters, before walking over to the bed, and grabbing the colorfully-wrapped gift off the mattress.
Strains of Anya and Xander’s conversation hit her ears as she descends the staircase…something about the rancid smell coming from the cheese platter and what sort of cheeses should be on the platter at the wedding…and as she gets closer to the kitchen, she can hear them shoo Dawn away so that she doesn’t interfere with the adult male friend who’s coming over to see Buffy.
Dawn pushes past her in a huff, barely acknowledging Willow’s presence as she heads upstairs to her room to cool down. As Dawn climbs the creaking stairs, the back door swings open, and Spike steps inside, carrying a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Willow catches his knowing smirk and smiles as Clem stumbles in behind him.
“Spike.”
Willow leans against the door frame, watching Buffy’s facial expression switch from smile to scowl, and her heart starts to pound inside her chest. What if Spike says something? What if Spike says something about her? What if Spike gives her secret away?
It’s not like she’s a good liar. Xander told her once that she’s got more nervous tics than a Lyme disease research facility, and while that was funny at the time because of the reference to tiny bugs, she doesn’t really feel like showing those off tonight if things get awkward.
Her friends would probably burn her at the stake if they knew what she was doing to avoid the magic, and that feels like a best case scenario. She can’t even bring herself to think of what the worst case scenario might be…
“Willow mentioned there was a shindig going on. Figured I’d stop by,” Spike says nonchalantly, stepping further into the house.
Willow sees Buffy’s hair shake, a symbol of her nodding, a symbol of her best friend not pushing the subject any further, and she lets go of the breath she’s been holding in. With a quick glance at Spike, she backs away from the kitchen door, heading towards the stairwell.
What she doesn’t see is the look on Buffy’s face, the look that clearly asks why Willow would be talking to Spike in the first place. But Spike sees it well enough, and once Buffy starts busying herself with the beverages, he saunters out of the room and finds Willow wrapping her arms around her body, hiding in the shadows of the staircase.
“Red?” Spike asks, his hand instinctively dropping onto her hip, and taking a step forward to narrow the gap between them. He doubts the rest of the party will go looking for them anytime soon, and he can’t resist getting closer to her.
“I’m not ready, Spike,” Willow whispers. “Not ready to tell them…”
His eyes soften and his lips press forward, catching the corner of her mouth with a kiss. “No need to tell anyone about it, pet. Addicts are good at keeping secrets.”
This kiss reminds her of the aftershocks she felt from last night, so Willow’s fingers clutch the lapels of his coat, and her covered breasts bump against the hard planes of his chest. He’s firm, solid…like the foundation of a house. It’s hard to believe that a well-placed wooden stake to the heart could turn him into dust. She deepens the kiss, confidence washing over in waves as her tongue sweeps over Spike’s lips, seeking entrance into his mouth.
As the aching heat grows between her thighs, she wishes she could use magic. It would just take a second to make every person in the house disappear so that he could do the same thing he did last night. So that he could do more than he did last night.
Spike’s hand slides off her hip, skating around to cup her ass, memorizing the curves, the smoothness. He breaks the kiss, swallowing back a groan as he moves to nip at her ear. Willow bites down on her lips to fight back a whimper as Spike’s skillful tongue sweeps over the outer lobe. “Could push your skirt up ‘round your waist, and take you right here. Could make you squirm and writhe with all your friends in the other room. Betcha that’d be the sorta thrill that the magic never gave ya.”
He captures her lips again, pushing her tighter against the wall, and sucking the moans from her throat as his free hand skates down her side. He finds the hem of her skirt, and pushes it upwards…he just needs it to be high enough so that he can get inside of her, and resolve the pressing urgency growing inside his pants without drawing unnecessary attention to their dark corner.
Willow squeezes her eyes shut, hoping to ignore the conversations of her bestest friends going on less than fifteen feet away from her. She can’t help but feel the thrill that Spike promised to give her when she agreed to this experiment, and she also can’t help but feel drops of liquid heat sliding down her thighs.
Or, the engorged head of Spike’s erection suddenly pressing against her clit right now.
When did he move her panties out of the way?
When did he take his pants off?
Meep...
The sudden scratch of denim rubbing against her thighs answers the last question, and the sudden jolt of electricity coursing through her veins when his cock twitches against her clit again is enough to make her forget caring about her first questioning thought.
Willow sucks in a quick breath, her body thrumming with an energy that seems foreign to her, an energy that she never got from the magic.
With one thrust, he finds his way inside of her, using the cream-colored wall to keep his balance as he finds a pace that she can deal with without giving away their location. She’s so wet for him, so needy for it, and she’s a far cry from the woman who made a no-sex rule just three weeks ago. His dick twitches and pulses inside her velvet walls, loving the way she squeezes him, the way she draws him deeper into her warm, gooey center.
He wants to savor her, wants to extend this journey, wants to make her feel each and every quiver. But there’s no time for that tonight, not with Father Time holding them in a vice-like grip, not with the din of shuffling feet in the background. So he chases their orgasms with lightning, using centuries of practice in sex and seduction to get them where they need to go.
A blissful cry catches in Willow’s throat, as her body shudders and spasms with pleasure, and her climax rips through her body with the intensity of a typhoon before her brain even has the chance to recognize what Spike just did to her.
“Holy crap,” Willow breathes, willing her body to recover so that she can make it through present-opening without causing a scene.
“Holy crap doesn’t even start to cover it. I’m thinking ‘holy shit’ might be more appropriate.”
It takes Willow less than three seconds to realize that the voice…isn’t Spike’s and it takes more than five seconds for her to find the courage to turn around and see who found them.
Chapter 7
Please Note: I cannot take credit for the Lyme Disease joke. That credit must go to the writers of the Big Bang Theory
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 2006
Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17 for sexual situations and language
Setting: An alternate route from Season 6 - "Wrecked"
Summary: The best way to get over an addiction is to change it...
Beta:
spikesredqueen andvelvetwhip. Thank you both so much for putting up with me! I also want to thank all of my loyal readers because your support means the world to me.A/N: Well over a year ago, I started writing the Addiction Series based off a drabble I did for
btvsats_love that explored what Season 6 might be like if Spike had been part of Willow's magic intervention. It never got where I wanted it to, and this is my shot to look at it again with fresher eyes. I hope you like the journey!Previous Chapters
From
blondebitzFrom
angelstoyThe next morning, Spike can still smell the warm softness of Willow on his sheets as he lies down on top of them. His eyes drift towards the stone ceiling of his crypt, focusing on deep cracks and gouges formed from one of the many earthquakes that had rocked this California town.
The scent of her makes him feel heady with the sort of sensation that he can’t recall feeling for the Slayer. It’s not the type of scent that wiggles it’s away under the skin, and devours the host until there’s nothing left. There are no notes of obsession, or madness, or masochism.
It is, however, the type of scent he wants to savor over and over again. It’s an olfactory craving that he can feel course through his veins.
Most of all, the sweet, strawberry smell leaves him with an understanding that his motives for helping Willow run deeper than he ever could have fathomed…and from what he saw last night in her submission to his tongue, he’s willing to wager that she’s feeling the same way right about now.
‘Course, there’s no way for him to verify that at the moment with her being away at the Magic Box tending to Anya’s new shipment of slug-scented candles and chattering about what color streamers should decorate the furniture at Buffy’s birthday tonight.
As his mind rolls around Buffy’s name, Spike inhales an unnecessary breath and leans over the bed, pulling a beaten-up pack of cigarettes and his lighter from the inside pocket of his leather duster. He pulls a tube from the pack, sticks it between his lips, and flicks the lighter. The cigarette’s end glows ember red and his lungs suck in the rich tobacco smoke.
The idea of spending six hours with that haughty bitch breathing down his neck while that idiot boy, Xander. ruins his vocal chords singing the Birthday song doesn’t sound like something high on his priority list.
But Willow did extend an invitation, and it would likely earn some brownie points with her. Especially since she’s desperate enough to let him do anything in his power to keep her from down-spiraling into the dark magic again…it really is the least he could do.
Drawing in another puff of smoke, he sighs deeply, feeling the burn course through his veins. Maybe tonight he would push her a little further over the razor-sharp edge of their agreement, show her what its like to really taste the darkness and oblivion he can offer her, and bury her problems once and for all under a sheen of sweat and a few carnal screams.
And that’s a party he wouldn’t want to miss.
***
Willow stands in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she analyzes her outfit choice for the evening. The knee-length black skirt looks okay, but the peasant shirt looks lumpy, and being lumpy for Buffy’s party sounds like a really bad idea. Especially with Spike coming.
A blush heats her cheeks at the thought of the blond vampire making her come the night before, and her fingers grip the hem of the top, half-heartedly tugging at the fabric. She still can’t believe that she let him slide his tongue between her legs, that she let him wind her body up like a toy until her body let go of the tension with some sort of crazy whoosh.
Everything Spike did to her, everything he said to her, every look he gave her felt like a challenge to her moral structure. She’d been raised to think that love and commitment were supposed to come before physical intimacy, and even though Spike had made the commitment to take care of her, to heal her of her addictions…she didn’t love him.
Yes, she definitely feels something for him, but it isn’t the same sort of feeling she had for Oz or that she has for Tara. It’s something far different. Something that’s more under the skin, more like an ultimate thrill, or an adrenaline surge. Something that’s more like blindly falling off the edge of a cliff, instead of something that’s like falling into a safety net.
She tugs at the shirt again, and glances in the mirror, letting satisfaction settle in the pit of her stomach. “It’s about as lumpless as it’s gonna get,” she mutters, before walking over to the bed, and grabbing the colorfully-wrapped gift off the mattress.
Strains of Anya and Xander’s conversation hit her ears as she descends the staircase…something about the rancid smell coming from the cheese platter and what sort of cheeses should be on the platter at the wedding…and as she gets closer to the kitchen, she can hear them shoo Dawn away so that she doesn’t interfere with the adult male friend who’s coming over to see Buffy.
Dawn pushes past her in a huff, barely acknowledging Willow’s presence as she heads upstairs to her room to cool down. As Dawn climbs the creaking stairs, the back door swings open, and Spike steps inside, carrying a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Willow catches his knowing smirk and smiles as Clem stumbles in behind him.
“Spike.”
Willow leans against the door frame, watching Buffy’s facial expression switch from smile to scowl, and her heart starts to pound inside her chest. What if Spike says something? What if Spike says something about her? What if Spike gives her secret away?
It’s not like she’s a good liar. Xander told her once that she’s got more nervous tics than a Lyme disease research facility, and while that was funny at the time because of the reference to tiny bugs, she doesn’t really feel like showing those off tonight if things get awkward.
Her friends would probably burn her at the stake if they knew what she was doing to avoid the magic, and that feels like a best case scenario. She can’t even bring herself to think of what the worst case scenario might be…
“Willow mentioned there was a shindig going on. Figured I’d stop by,” Spike says nonchalantly, stepping further into the house.
Willow sees Buffy’s hair shake, a symbol of her nodding, a symbol of her best friend not pushing the subject any further, and she lets go of the breath she’s been holding in. With a quick glance at Spike, she backs away from the kitchen door, heading towards the stairwell.
What she doesn’t see is the look on Buffy’s face, the look that clearly asks why Willow would be talking to Spike in the first place. But Spike sees it well enough, and once Buffy starts busying herself with the beverages, he saunters out of the room and finds Willow wrapping her arms around her body, hiding in the shadows of the staircase.
“Red?” Spike asks, his hand instinctively dropping onto her hip, and taking a step forward to narrow the gap between them. He doubts the rest of the party will go looking for them anytime soon, and he can’t resist getting closer to her.
“I’m not ready, Spike,” Willow whispers. “Not ready to tell them…”
His eyes soften and his lips press forward, catching the corner of her mouth with a kiss. “No need to tell anyone about it, pet. Addicts are good at keeping secrets.”
This kiss reminds her of the aftershocks she felt from last night, so Willow’s fingers clutch the lapels of his coat, and her covered breasts bump against the hard planes of his chest. He’s firm, solid…like the foundation of a house. It’s hard to believe that a well-placed wooden stake to the heart could turn him into dust. She deepens the kiss, confidence washing over in waves as her tongue sweeps over Spike’s lips, seeking entrance into his mouth.
As the aching heat grows between her thighs, she wishes she could use magic. It would just take a second to make every person in the house disappear so that he could do the same thing he did last night. So that he could do more than he did last night.
Spike’s hand slides off her hip, skating around to cup her ass, memorizing the curves, the smoothness. He breaks the kiss, swallowing back a groan as he moves to nip at her ear. Willow bites down on her lips to fight back a whimper as Spike’s skillful tongue sweeps over the outer lobe. “Could push your skirt up ‘round your waist, and take you right here. Could make you squirm and writhe with all your friends in the other room. Betcha that’d be the sorta thrill that the magic never gave ya.”
He captures her lips again, pushing her tighter against the wall, and sucking the moans from her throat as his free hand skates down her side. He finds the hem of her skirt, and pushes it upwards…he just needs it to be high enough so that he can get inside of her, and resolve the pressing urgency growing inside his pants without drawing unnecessary attention to their dark corner.
Willow squeezes her eyes shut, hoping to ignore the conversations of her bestest friends going on less than fifteen feet away from her. She can’t help but feel the thrill that Spike promised to give her when she agreed to this experiment, and she also can’t help but feel drops of liquid heat sliding down her thighs.
Or, the engorged head of Spike’s erection suddenly pressing against her clit right now.
When did he move her panties out of the way?
When did he take his pants off?
Meep...
The sudden scratch of denim rubbing against her thighs answers the last question, and the sudden jolt of electricity coursing through her veins when his cock twitches against her clit again is enough to make her forget caring about her first questioning thought.
Willow sucks in a quick breath, her body thrumming with an energy that seems foreign to her, an energy that she never got from the magic.
With one thrust, he finds his way inside of her, using the cream-colored wall to keep his balance as he finds a pace that she can deal with without giving away their location. She’s so wet for him, so needy for it, and she’s a far cry from the woman who made a no-sex rule just three weeks ago. His dick twitches and pulses inside her velvet walls, loving the way she squeezes him, the way she draws him deeper into her warm, gooey center.
He wants to savor her, wants to extend this journey, wants to make her feel each and every quiver. But there’s no time for that tonight, not with Father Time holding them in a vice-like grip, not with the din of shuffling feet in the background. So he chases their orgasms with lightning, using centuries of practice in sex and seduction to get them where they need to go.
A blissful cry catches in Willow’s throat, as her body shudders and spasms with pleasure, and her climax rips through her body with the intensity of a typhoon before her brain even has the chance to recognize what Spike just did to her.
“Holy crap,” Willow breathes, willing her body to recover so that she can make it through present-opening without causing a scene.
“Holy crap doesn’t even start to cover it. I’m thinking ‘holy shit’ might be more appropriate.”
It takes Willow less than three seconds to realize that the voice…isn’t Spike’s and it takes more than five seconds for her to find the courage to turn around and see who found them.
Chapter 7
Please Note: I cannot take credit for the Lyme Disease joke. That credit must go to the writers of the Big Bang Theory
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-11-09 02:16 am (UTC)You are evil. Pure and simple.
Also a really good sex scene! *fans herself* Well crafted and well, physically possible! There are so many fics out there that I find myself wondering if the bendy guy from the Fantastic 4 can even do them let alone mere humans and vampires!
Heightened flexibility not one of the normal vampire prowess...
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-09 02:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-09 06:02 am (UTC)HOLY SHIT GIRL, THIS STORY JUST KEEPS GETTING MORE AND MORE AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU FUCKING ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TOTALLY CAN'T WAIT FOR MORE!!!!!!!!!
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-09 07:04 am (UTC)In seriousness, I loved this chapter and I can't wait for more!
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-09 07:52 am (UTC)Spike is the devil! I love that about him.
I think Anya or Clem found them, but can't wait to find out :-)
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-09 10:44 am (UTC)An excellent chapter my darling, hot. sexy and oh so delicious!
Looking forward to the next chapter to find out who caught them.
*kisses* xxx
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-09 11:10 am (UTC)I can't belive you stopped here! Now I can't wait for the next chapter.
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-12 03:05 am (UTC)My guess is Dawn, but I can't wait to see who it really is. Great chapter, BTW. Your sex was incredibly hot, and damn, did I mention how hot the sex was????
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-14 12:41 pm (UTC)They were caught? I am so looking forward to know who it is. My money are on Anya ^_^
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2009-11-30 03:42 am (UTC)*runs to see who found them*
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2010-02-22 02:28 pm (UTC)And ending it here? Plain evil. I'm really glad I can go and read the next chapter without having to wait!
no subject
on 2013-05-28 02:54 pm (UTC)Well written chapter, I'm now addicted to this story.
On to the next chapter to see who discovered them
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2016-07-10 04:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted by