Closer
By The Wicked Sluts
See Part 1 for Disclaimer
Part 6
***
Willow waited, nearly drifting off to sleep. As her eyes were closing, Angel entered the bedroom carrying a plate, napkin and a glass of what she assumed must be juice.
“Scoot over and sit up.” He said, setting the things on the bedside table.
Willow did as she was told, propping herself up in bed. She glanced over at the plate. It held a block of cheese, two apples and a knife. Angel placed the linen napkin on her lap and held up both apples.
“Jonagold or Granny Smith?”
“Granny Smith, please.” She replied.
Meticulously, Angel sliced off a sliver of the apple and then a wedge of cheese. Balancing the two on the knife, he held it to her mouth, his index finger brushing the curve of her lip. Willow accepted it. She savored the mingling tastes of the tart fruit and the mellow cheese, thinking it vaguely appropriate that two opposite things could come to gather and create such a pleasant balance. When she’d finished that bite, Angel offered her more and the process was repeated until her hunger was sated. He offered her the glass and Willow drank deeply, taken aback a bit by the fact that it was wine and not juice. Half the glass finished, she handed it back to Angel.
“Thank you. I feel better.”
Angel looked at her a moment. “Not necessary. You need to keep your strength up, for both of us.”
Willow looked at him. “Well, what now. Do we need to rehash this again? Do I go home? What’ll it be?” she asked. Secretly, she hoped it would be a third choice, but wasn’t going to dare to ask.
Angel pursed his lips and thought a moment. Talking would be good…but something else would be a hell of a lot more fun. A wicked thought struck him and he picked up the knife from the tray, and began absently fondling the wood handle of the sharp blade.
“You trust me, yes, Willow?”
Willow nodded a cautious affirmative, eyeing the knife he held. She trusted him…he’d said he’d never hurt her…but pain was part of their pleasure. What if he…? She stopped herself. This was Angel…he’d never cause her true physical harm.
“You remember my safe word, Angel?” She asked.
“Yes, I remember. But you won’t need it. Lie down and close your eyes.” He commanded.
Willow did. Her stomach was fluttering nervously, but it was more from excitement than real fear.
Angel leaned over her and whispered in her ear, “Now, Willow, you have to lie completely still. You know my hands are steady, but if you jump or jerk, I won’t be responsible. Understand?”
Willow swallowed hard, and answered, “Yes.”
Angel nodded, satisfied, and moved to the foot of the bed. Carefully, he turned the blade in his hand so that the edge was resting along his index finger with the blunt side facing out. He believed Willow would hold still to the best of her ability, but he knew she was ticklish. She might not be able to help her body’s reaction. In her mind, the threat of the sharp instrument would be real enough, despite the fact that Angel would never allow that to happen.
Slowly, he began tracing the knife lightly across the instep of first one foot, then the other, glad that he’d covered the sharp edge as her toes curled. He moved up her legs with it, circling her knees, and then along her ribs, keeping his movements perfectly symmetrical on each side of her body. Briefly, he would pause and glance at her face. Her lips were now slightly parted and her breath coming in shallow gasps. Angel could smell the joined scents coming off of her…fear and desire.
With her eyes closed, Willow was left with the images her mind conjured for her. She could visualize Angel leaning over her with the knife, his finely muscled body tensed, but his hands steady. Each new touch of the blade brought a new vision, each one more erotic than the next. When he touched her breasts, she gasped aloud. He circled each areola until both were impossibly hard. It was as if he were burning her, branding her with each caress of the cool instrument.
Angel moved to his side, running the point down to her navel. He circled the perfect indentation, pressing the point easily into the supple flesh but not drawing blood, as the tip of his tongue trailed the line of her mouth. Their tongues met briefly as she wet her lips and a bolt of pure hunger shot through Angel. Willow was his…his possession. Only she could give herself so completely, offering up her body to him, allowing him to take her, to do with her anything he pleased. That kind of power was heady, indeed. His cock twitched in anticipation of burying himself inside her, claiming her, having her scream out his name.
Careful not to forget the game, Angel ran his hand further, touching the juncture where her thighs met. A soft mewl escaped her, and Angel saw her fingers clutch at the sheets in an effort to keep her hips from bucking forward. Quietly, he spread her thighs and climbed between her legs, lifting her up with his free hand by the small of her back. With some effort, he positioned himself at her entrance, awkwardly turning his other hand so that the blunt edge rested against her throbbing clitoris, and then he paused.
“Who do you trust, Willow?” He asked.
It was torture for her not to pull him into her with her legs. Willow bit down on the inside of her cheek, tasting the coppery fluid that flowed from the tiny wound. That small act let her regain enough control to answer.
“You. Only you. Always you, Angel.”
“Swear it?”
Neither of them could be sure if it were a truly a question or a plea.
“I swear!” Willow nearly shouted the words.
Tossing the knife to the floor, Angel took her hips firmly in both hands and plunged into her, his girth stretching and filling her. Willow arched her back and grabbed at the headboard as a swell of pure pleasure tore through her, every nerve in her body pulsating with passion.
Angel watched her as he moved back and forth inside her, each thrust bringing him nearer to the edge, her orgasm-slicked walls grasping at him as if trying to tear the very seed from his body. Before she could come down, he drew her legs over his shoulders, freeing his hands to manipulate her overly sensitive clit as he pushed into her. His effort was met with the spasming of her hole around his erection as he bumped against the tip of her cervix, and he could tell she was close to falling again.
Panting heavily, he begged her, “Please, Willow. Open your eyes now.”
She complied, her eyes dark with an almost feral lust. “Angel.” Confirmation…it was confirmation that he, and only he, was able to bring her to this state of desire, and it was exactly what he wanted. With a last thrust, he came inside her, his aching testicles emptying inside her as the tip of his cock swelled, sending her groaning into a final orgasm.
Gently, his body still twitching with the remembered pleasure, Angel lowered Willow to the bed, refusing to move out of her. Holding his weight on his elbows, he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her with tenderness and gratitude.
The room was silent save for the slow quieting of Willow’s breathing. They disentangled their bodies, and Angel drew her into his arms. When she started to speak, he silenced her with a mild, “Hush, now.”
Lying together, Willow couldn’t help but feel contented. She now knew what she had to do. She might love Oz, but there’d be no more dating, no more smoochies. She belonged body, and maybe someday soul, to Angel…her teacher, her master, her lover.
Physically satisfied, Angel couldn’t help but feel restless. He knew what he had to do now. Willow was his lover, physically. He could not deny needing her. And he had to admit there was the inkling of some other feeling there, but he could never betray Buffy by giving Willow his heart. He was going to have to make that clear to Willow, despite the consequences.
Not now, though, he decided, as Willow’s warmth heated his body, allowing him to fall into a sanguine sleep.
END - To be continued in next part of the Private Lessons Series