by The Wicked Sluts
Willow was aroused.
Plain and simple.
It had been more than two weeks since she and Angel had had a chance to be alone, and it was killing her. She was addicted to the vampire, the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, the way he bruised her, and the way he fucked her.
And now she was alone on a date with Oz, in his van, in the middle of the woods and she needed a release.
The pair were stretched out in the back of the van, curled up on a soft blanket, talking. Willow loved Oz more than words, and the thought of leaving him never entered her mind. But… there were things that Angel gave her that Oz simply couldn’t. But… Oz was who she was with at the moment.
She moved closer to him, stretching her right leg across his body, nibbling on his neck, and casually trying to place some friction where she needed it. She knew that Oz was getting aroused, too, and she was ready to go over the edge with him. He caressed her back through the thin cotton material of her shirt, returning her kisses more fervently the harder she pressed against his leg.
He rolled Willow onto her back, and gingerly unsnapped her jeans, unsure of whether Willow would want to take things further. His action was answered with a moan, and he dipped his fingers under the waistband of her panties, finally settling his hand in her moist nest of curls.
“Willow?” he questioned.
He complied, spreading her lips and sliding a finger into her core. She clenched around the finger, fighting the urge to call out his name… afraid the name she would call out wouldn’t be Oz.
He slid another finger in, pumping them quickly in and out. The difference in the way Angel touched her and the way Oz touched her was astounding. Angel was obviously so much more experienced in the ways of making a woman come. He knew exactly how to touch Willow, exactly how much pressure she needed, and when she needed it. He understood Willow in a way that Oz was oblivious to.
His thumb grazed her clit, and Willow bit back a scream. She was so close… even if Oz wasn’t who she wanted at the moment, he was who she loved, and it would only take a little bit more…
But Oz ignored her silent plea to place more pressure on her center, continuing to move his fingers in and out. Willow was shaking with need now. She needed…
Closing her eyes, she forgot for a moment where she was, and who she was with. Without thinking, she lowered her own hand between her legs, and rubbed herself through her jeans, crying out as her orgasm ripped through her body, soaking Oz’s hand and leaving the startled young man gaping at this girlfriend.
“Willow, what the hell was that?” he moved away from her.
Blinking her eyes, she focused on Oz, “What was what?”
“That!” he said, “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Will. You’ve been acting all weird lately. Distant.”
“Oz, please…” she sat up, hastily buttoning her jeans.
“I’m taking you home.”
The drive back to Willow’s house was made in silence. Oz stared at the road as Willow blinked back tears, both from knowing that things had suddenly changed between her and Oz, and because she wanted nothing more than to be with Angel at that moment, to be punished for her behavior, punished for wanting Angel more than Oz. And knowing that the moment that Oz drove away, she would be running towards the mansion.
An hour later she was standing outside the door to the Crawford Street mansion. She brought her hand up to knock, but pulled it back down. This part always confused her. Knock or just open the door and barge in? She knew she was being a little silly, but it was troubling. Her good manners dictated that she should knock. Her id told her that she should have free reign to walk right into her lover’s home. And if Angel didn’t like that…well, he’d just have to punish her, wouldn’t he? She pushed that thought down and decided on a compromise swinging the door open at the same time as she rapped gently on it.
She could see Angel sitting on the sofa, his crooked arm propping his head up. There were no lights on in the mansion, but flickering firelight bathed the room in an eerie glow, casting shadows on the walls that stretched to the high ceiling. He didn’t move a muscle when he spoke.
“Come in, Willow.”
Willow was slightly surprised and a little pleased that he knew it was her.
“How…how did you know it was me?”
“Buffy’s visiting her father. Who else would be polite enough to knock on the door at almost one o’clock in the morning.”
“Oh.” Her voice seemed tiny in the large room. She walked towards the sofa slowly, worried that she truly was intruding on some private moment. He remained motionless until she was about ten feet from him. With a swift move, he leapt over the back of the sofa and grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly, one time.
Willow looked up at him, her eyes wide with terror and waited for him to say something.
“Did you come here to gloat? Or was it to tell me that you were through with our little lessons since you’ve found out that Oz can take care of things for you?” His voice was steely in tone.
Angel began to slowly back her towards the wall, his grip never loosening. “No what? No you’re not gloating? No this isn’t over?” He paused when he had her against the wall, then continued. “Which is it, Willow?”
“You’re hurting me.” She replied meekly.
“And you’re trying to hurt me. What of it?” Although his words were harsh, Willow could feel his hands relax almost imperceptibly. Willow took the opportunity to move her hands to his waist and begin to caress his sides through the soft material of his shirt before answering him.
“So that’s it? The wolf couldn’t satisfy you so you came to me?” He smirked. “I guess that being second choice isn’t so bad in this case.”
“You…how… Maybe I had a great time with Oz! Maybe I am here to tell you to fu…” She drew in a deep breath. “To fuck off! There.”
Angel slid one hand down her arm, taking her fingers into his and drawing it to his nose. He shook his head and dropped her hand. She moved to break free from the other hand pressing her against the wall, but Angel pressed her back. With his free hand, he worked at his trousers, undoing them and freeing the erection he’d been sporting since he first felt her presence. Pushing up her skirt, he reached for her panties and found none. Bending his knees, he spread her legs and positioned himself at her entrance. Neither of them was shocked to find that she was wet with anticipation.
Cupping her face in his hands, he looked deeply into her eyes.
“Tell me no. We won’t do this if it isn’t what you want. Just say no.”
Her voice trembling, Willow answered. “Yes.”
“Yes because you want me? Not yes because you think you need to be punished?” He asked in a choked voice.
“Yes, because I need you to make me feel.” She pleaded.
Burying his face in the nape of her neck, Angel pushed forward imbedding himself in her throbbing heat. With controlled urgency, he moved in an out of her, each thrust bringing a strangled cry from her lips. Willow ran her hands up under his shirt, clasping at his back and digging her nails into his flesh. Angel could feel his face change, could feel his human visage slip away. As her tight hole began to spasm around his shaft, Angel slipped his fangs into Willow’s neck lightly pricking her skin and drawing out a tiny amount of her rich essence as he filled her with his. Sobbing with pleasure, Willow clung to him.
Slowly, Angel withdrew from her neck and core. He knew she wouldn’t be able to stand on her own, so he swung her into his arms and carried her to the sofa, placing tender kisses on her face.
They sat silently on the couch, clinging to each other, not saying a word. Willow was in shock. He bit her neck… the act he had deemed far too intimate for what they were sharing, yet he had done it.
Angel’s mind was racing, thinking over many of the same thoughts as Willow. As soon as she walked in the door of the mansion, he knew that she had been with Oz, and that she had orgasmed, and it drove him nearly insane with jealousy. He had wanted to punish Willow… not for being insolent with him, or even because she had wanted to be punished. He wanted to hurt her for wanting someone other than him.
And that was crossing a very dangerous line.
Willow’s breaths were finally slowing down, her heartbeat idling to a manageable pace.
“Angel?” she questioned, receiving only silence in return.
“Angel, please talk to me.”
He had nothing to say—or, rather, a million things to say, but not one of them that he could vocalize to Willow at this moment.
So he fell back on his defenses.
“What do you want me to say?” he snapped at her.
“Don’t do this, Angel. You bit my neck.”
Wincing at the accusatory tone in her voice, he turned her head, checking her neck to see how much damage he had inflicted.
“You didn’t hurt me, Angel. That’s not what this is about,” she said, brushing him away.
Angel sighed, “Why don’t we start at the beginning then? What happened tonight with Oz?”
It was Willow’s turn to fall silent.
“Willow, we have to talk about this. What just happened shouldn’t have, and we have to figure out why it did.”
With a deep breath, she quickly recounted the night’s events, emphasizing that she simply knew that she needed to be with him after her encounter with Oz, but not knowing why.
She looked at him questioningly, hoping he had the answers that she needed.
“I don’t, Willow,” he said, instinctively knowing what she was thinking. “I don’t know… Damn it.”
Disentangling himself from her, he stood from the couch and moved to look out the French doors onto the patio, frustration evident in his sagging shoulders.
“I think it’s safe to assume that we care more about each other than we should. I think I was trying to mark you as mine. A stupid, animalistic thing of me to do, but for some reason in the throes of passion, I wanted—needed to make sure that other men would know you belong to me. As far as what’s happening between you and Oz—he doesn’t satisfy you. You have needs and wants and desires that you haven’t told him about.”
“And after his reaction tonight, I never can,” she said quietly, tears leaking from her eyes.
“Maybe if you tell him…”
“Angel… I can’t.” She was sobbing, yet Angel didn’t make a move to comfort her.
“Because… when I think of Oz doing to me the things that you do, it turns my stomach. I don’t ever want him to touch me the way you do… to do the things you do. Only you, Angel… that can only be you.”
“Only me, Willow? Are you certain?”
Angel turned from the doors and leaned his back against them, quiet reflection settling over his features for a few moments while Willow struggled to get her tears under control.
Finally, he spoke, “It’s time to stop the tears, Willow. I want you to go in the bedroom and get undressed.”
Willow acquiesced, rubbing the tears away with her palms. Once again, she intuitively knew that he was testing her… testing her strength and resolve. She had no doubt that they were about to engage in something different from their previous games and, while she was frightened, she could still hear his words from their first night together echoing in her head. <I couldn’t hurt you, Willow.>
She obediently moved into his bedroom, stripping her clothes and lying them on the back of a chair.
Angel followed her, watching her every movement.
After she removed her clothes, she turned to stare at Angel.
“What?” he asked.
“You didn’t tell me what to do after I took my clothes off.”
He briefly smirked, amazed and elated that she followed his orders so closely.
“Sit down in the chair, Willow.”
She did as she was told, watching his hands as he unfastened his pants, pulling his member free. He moved in front of her.
“Suck,” he commanded with a single word.
Her eyes fell shut, grateful. This was something she could do. She slid her lips over the head of his penis, sighing softly as she perched on the edge of the chair, her hands clenching the arms. His shaft quickly hardened with her assistance, and he pulled away, not wanting to come in her mouth.
“Do you know what I want to do to you, Willow?”
She shook her head no.
“Do you want to know?” he asked darkly.
Her teacher was back, and Angel was gone. It was time for a lesson. She shook her head yes.
“Lie down on the bed,” he instructed.
When Willow started to spread out on her back, he stopped her, “On your stomach.”
Cautiously, she turned over.
Angel sat on the bed beside her, and reached between her legs. Despite her fear, she was sopping wet. Angel plunged two of his fingers into her vagina, scooping some of her wetness out, and let his fingers drift backwards, spreading her cheeks. He casually slid his fingers back and forth across her tight hole.
Bending over, he whispered in her ear, “I want you here, Willow,” he pushed the tip of one finger inside her.
She gasped aloud, nearly jumping out of her skin. Angel removed his hand and pressed it against the small of her back, holding her gently down on the bed.
“Can you do this for me, Willow?”
“Yes!” Willow was surprised by her own lack of hesitation. This was something that she had thought about… she and Angel had engaged in anal foreplay before, but with him on the receiving end.
She knew that eventually, if things continued to progress the way they were, it would come to this. She didn’t think it would happen so quickly, but a lot of things seemed to be happening quickly tonight.
Angel was equally surprised by her swift acceptance. Pleased, but still surprised. She did that to him a lot, he was discovering.
“On your hands and knees then,” he ordered, a little harshly, before leaning over to whisper in her ear again, “You know, if you keep saying yes to everything I say, I’ll never have any reason to punish you.” He gave her earlobe a light kiss and a nip with his blunt teeth, earning a grateful smile from Willow, who marginally relaxed.
Angel wanted her to enjoy this. He knew from experience that if it was done correctly, Willow could derive almost as much pleasure as he could.
As she made herself comfortable, grabbing pillows to support herself with, and Angel laid on his back, his head between her legs.
“Angel?!” she gasped, not expecting him to worry about her pleasure right now.
“I didn’t give you permission to talk,” he said, quickly swatting her backside.
He spread her lips with his tongue, sliding it back and forth along her slit, pressing it lightly inside her walls before dipping back out, and pressing it against her clit.
Her legs tightened as she balanced precariously on the edge of her orgasm, but Angel had no intention of letting her come yet. He drew his attention away from her clit and contented himself to lick at her outer lips. He sensed her relax a bit, and then he moved back up, pulling at her gently with his teeth, feeling her draw closer again. Willow was panting, almost desperate in her need to come.
This was exactly where he wanted her to be. Pulling himself out from between her legs, he stood and moved to his dresser, rummaging around in the top drawer before finally pulling out a tube of KY jelly.
As he walked back to the bed, he spread a small amount on his index finger, and sat on the edge of the bed behind Willow. With his other hand, he felt her wetness again, wanting to keep her on the edge, tense, and willing to let Angel manipulate her body any way he wanted as long as she got to come.
He snaked the slick finger easily into her tight hole, and worked it gently in and out of her body, slightly lubricating the opening of the passage. Willow buried her head in the pillows, caught between hating this invasion and loving it at the same time.
Angel was taking his time. This wasn’t something that could be rushed… it would only end badly for both of them if he forced this before she was ready.
Slowly and cautiously, he added another finger. He was moving agonizingly slow, and Willow wasn’t certain if she hated him or loved him for it. He moved the two fingers around, not simply in and out, loosening her sphincter muscles. He kept the open tube of lube next to him on the bed, and with his free hand, he squeezed a little more out onto his fingers as they moved in and out of her body, and added a third finger.
Willow was amazingly accepting of him. He expected resistance to the third finger, and while she did clench around him, he knew that she was making a conscious effort to relax. The fact that his other hand went back to playing with her clitoris helped immensely; she was so desperate to come that she would have gladly allowed him to do anything he wanted at that moment.
Yet Angel refused to speed his actions along. With his fingers inside her, he began to spread them, slowly, stretching her entrance.
A knee-jerk reaction, Willow clenched her muscles tight, forcing his fingers back together. Angel almost snickered, but caught himself in time. Laughing at her wouldn’t be prudent, and he knew that at this moment, she wouldn’t see the humor. Maybe later.
He placed his hand on her hip, massaging the tense muscles, “Relax, Willow… please. Just relax again.”
She did, and he spread his fingers again, stretching her, before pulling them out, applying more lube, and then carefully thrusting them back inside her. He repeated the motions for several long minutes until he was satisfied that she was ready.
He slathered a generous amount of jelly from the base to the tip of his penis, stroking himself with one hand to spread it evenly.
Positioning himself on his knees behind her, he placed the head of his cock at her opening. He was hard as a rock in anticipation of being sheathed so tightly inside his lover’s body.
“Ready, Willow?” he asked.
“Yes, Angel… please,” she begged.
Again, he was amazed by her, and her total acceptance of him, something he didn’t get from anyone else in his life now and hadn’t for a very long time.
He pressed forward, sliding his tip inside her. Instinctively, she flinched. Angel waited for a moment for her to grow used to feeling him inside her before he slid further in. The process was arduous and slow… he was about halfway in before Willow pushed herself back against him.
He was all the way inside of her, she could feel his course pubic hair scratching against her bottom. He gave her time to recover, to grow accustomed to the feeling.
She wanted to speak… needed to speak… but she remembered her station. He hadn’t given her permission.
She looked back over her shoulder, pleading with him with her eyes.
“What, Willow? What’s wrong?”
“May I speak? Please?” she begged.
She needn’t have asked. As far as Angel was concerned, the lesson was over for the time being, the real contest having been whether or not she would allow this in the first place.
“Of course, you can… anything,” he replied, gritting his teeth. The feel of her muscles involuntarily clamping down on his cock was going to quickly drive him over the edge.
“It feels so good,” she finally moaned, “It’s so… God… Angel… so tight… so…good…”
Angel slid out, and pressed back in. He wasn’t going to last; the feeling was too incredible. The combination of her heat, her tightness, and the steady stream of words that was pouring from her lips was too much for him.
He found a slow rhythm, moving in and out, in and out. He reached around and between her legs, tugging and pinching her clit between his fingers. It was all she could take and she erupted into her orgasm, screaming as wave upon wave of bliss enveloped her body. She thrust back against Angel, her muscles growing rigid around his shaft as the last vestiges of her orgasm ripped through her body.
Falling forward, Angel sank his fangs into her side, only tasting her as his own orgasm was so intense and earth-shattering that he was unable to suck the blood from her. He came in quick, hard spurts, his body shuddering and convulsing as feral cries erupted from deep within his chest.
Gasping for unneeded breath, he fell on top of her.
“Angel, I can’t breathe,” she panted.
He gingerly pulled out of her, and rolled over onto his back to lie next to her, the pair both completely spent.
Angel waited until they both had caught their breath, then took her hand and led her into the bathroom. Willow weakly followed, her knees wobbly from the exertion. They reached the shower and he wrapped one arm around her, lending his support as he turned on the water and adjusted it to a comfortable temperature, then half-carried, half-pushed her underneath the stream of water. Willow laid her head on Angel’s shoulder and let the water course over them, it’s pulse washing away the sweat and stickiness from their bodies at the same time it soothed her aching muscles.
Leaning her against the wall, Angel took a bottle of body wash, banana and vanilla scented and began lathering his body from head to toe. He smiled for a moment as the scent hit his nostrils…it was something he never would have purchased before Willow had begun sometimes-sharing his home. After rinsing, he soaped up his hands again and went to work on Willow, massaging the soap into her aching muscles and removing the scent of their lovemaking, and more importantly, any traces of her and Oz’s earlier adventures from her body. His stomach lurched slightly at the thought of her in Oz’s arms, her moving beneath him, clutching at him. Despite her assurances that Oz couldn’t fulfill her, the mere thought of her with another man gnawed at him like a rat after a sack of grain. He shook off the image. It was wrong. Buffy was his love, not Willow. Willow was his lover…scratch that…his sexual partner. They both needed to accept it for what it was and be done with ideas of anything else.
Angel opened his mouth to say as much, but as he looked up from washing down her feet, he saw her face. Her head tilted to one side, a fine rivulet of water streaming down her cheek from her hair, the contented half-smile playing at her lips. Surprisingly, his chest tightened. He couldn’t say the words, because at that precise moment they weren’t true. Not for him, at least. No matter that he loved Buffy…whatever he felt for Willow, whatever she was to him, she was not just his plaything.
A noise startled him from his thoughts. It was Willow’s stomach rumbling. She blushed and opened her eyes.
“Sorry,” She said demurely. “I guess I worked up an appetite.”
“That’s okay.” Angel turned off the water and reached for a couple of towels, handing one to Willow. “Dry off and wait for me on the bed.”
Angel ran the towel briskly over his body and then wrapped it around his waist, leaving Willow to follow his instructions.
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.”
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.