Master Class, ch. 2/3

[eurydice72]

More of my winter_of_wes PWP...

Title: Master Class
Author: Eurydice
Pairing: Wesley/Willow
Rating: NC17
Summary: Wesley dreams of power. And Willow. And...other stuff.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Which is probably for the better, because I'd probably never let Wesley out of my bed.
Spoilers: Set in BtVS S3
Author's Note: Thank you to psubrat for the beta, and to sadbhyl and mydeira for reading it and telling me it didn't suck. :)
Warning: Contains spanking, mild rimming, roleplay.

Story begins here



Somehow, the translation was done by mid-afternoon, the changes Willow had made spurring Wesley into a fresh bout of productivity in spite of her lurking in the back of his mind. Tidying away the scroll, he decided it was safe to risk taking it over to the high school that evening. As it was Friday, odds were in his favor that the young people would be out and Giles alone. He believed he could work under those circumstances.

A long hot shower later, Wesley emerged from his bathroom feeling like a fresh man. He could do this. He was a professional. Willow’s words had proven correct, after all. All he needed was to bring the fantasies out into the open and the harsh light of day filtered them away. Perhaps by Monday, he would be able to return to his prior routine with no more thought of distraction.

He was still getting dressed when the knock came at his door. Without thinking, he crossed to answer it, his fingers working on the buttons of his shirt.

Unsurprisingly, Willow stood on the other side. Her hair was piled on top of her head, while make-up stronger than what she normally wore heightened her innocent features. A shapeless coat covered her from neck to knee, however, and Wesley frowned as he glanced up at the cloudless sky.

She fidgeted with the belt of her coat for a moment before speaking. “You didn’t come to school today,” she said. “After last night, I figured…I thought things were better.”

He wanted to tell her that they were. He’d even convinced himself of that, prior to opening the door. But seeing her in the flesh provoked a surge throughout his body, a lust that made his throat tight and his palms itch. To say what she wanted to hear would be lying, and frankly, Wesley was a terrible liar.

“I was finishing the translation,” he said. It was truth, if only partial. “Which I’ve now done, thanks to your contribution. My plans were to take it to Giles this evening.”

“Oh.” The tightness of the belt around her fingers was making the tips turn white. “Then I’m more than a little embarrassed I stopped by. I should probably go.”

“Wait.” She stopped in mid-turn, glancing up at him through lashes made lush with heavy mascara. “Why did you come?” Wesley asked.

Willow shook her head. “It was a dumb idea. Forget it.”

This time, he grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away. Curiosity was dispelling his discomfort. “Tell me.”

Though her gaze darted to where his fingers were curled around her forearm, Willow didn’t attempt to pull away. “I thought…well, I got online today and did some research. About fantasies. And boy, when you’re doing a search on those, you better be specific, because some of the stuff that comes up? Kind of freaky.”

His mouth was dry, but he managed to say, “Your point?”

“Fantasies are powerful because they’re just that. Fantasy. Not real. Having a fantasy made real can lessen its attraction.”

All of a sudden, her fingers fumbled with the belt, the sides of the coat falling open to expose what she wore beneath. Wesley’s breath choked in his throat.

It wasn’t a Catholic school uniform. Far from it. The long-sleeved top looked like it was painted on, baring her midriff and boosting her cleavage, while the tiny leather skirt made her legs look impossibly long in their black hose. It was an ensemble Faith could’ve pulled off with aplomb. On Willow, there was an added sexiness that her unease only increased.

Wesley swallowed, drinking in the sight of her. His cock was throbbing.

“Maybe we should…go inside?” Willow asked.

The question of Oz popped into his mind, but he quickly shoved it aside. She was a smart girl. She would have already considered the consequences of her actions.

Besides, if he brought it up, she might actually walk away. Wesley stepped back to allow her room to enter. He wasn’t willing to have that happen just yet.

“Can I take your coat?” he asked once the door was shut. Inwardly, he cringed at the eagerness of his voice.

Willow slipped it from her shoulders and handed it to him, her hands then fluttering in front of her bare stomach as if to hide it from his view. “I’m a little nervous,” she admitted.

For some reason, that surprised him. “Why? I would never hurt you, Willow.”

Her lips twitched, a smile daring to break out. “You want to spank me, Wesley. Last I checked, kind of means I get hurt in the process.”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” How could he make her understand without sounding like a complete idiot? “It’s about power. Being the one in charge.” Not being the one punished. But he left that part off. “If you were afraid, why did you come? Why would you…offer?”

She began wandering around the room, looking at everything but him. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted in a small, breathy voice. “To think that someone would want me in that way…when Oz doesn’t…I hardly slept when I got home. Do you know how hard it is to be me, standing next to Faith, and Buffy, and Cordelia? Nobody notices me. I’m the good girl that blends into the background. I’m the one everybody else uses for their excuse when they go off to have fun. Just once, I want to know what it’s like to be the bad girl, to be the one who walks into a room and all the guys want to dance with.” She stopped to play with a small ornament on his bookshelf. “Maybe I came because you’re not the only one with a fantasy here.”

All the air was sucked from his lungs. It certainly explained her costume.

“So…this would be for yourself as much as for me?” Wesley asked carefully. It was reaching for straws, but bugger if she wasn’t standing there, holding it out with two hands, waiting for him to take it.

“Maybe.” Willow took a deep breath and blurted, “But I’m still a virgin. Does that make a difference?”

“Oh.” The implication of her words made his eyes widen. “Oh. I hadn’t…I assumed…you and Oz…”

“Do you know how long it took to get him to even kiss me?” Frustration was starting to bleed into her voice, and she replaced the ornament with a bit more force than he thought she intended. “He wants everything to be perfect, which is sweet and all, but we live on a Hellmouth. We don’t get perfect.” Finally, she lifted her eyes to his. The strength he saw there made him harden even more, if that was possible. “We get now.”

There was really no debate left for him. With definitive steps forward, Wesley closed the gap between them, using a single finger under her chin to tilt her head back so that she was forced to look at him. “I shan’t hurt you, Willow,” he murmured. “But you’ve repeated ‘maybe’ more than once. I’ll only do this if you’re a willing participant. It’s not enjoyable for me if I think I’m forcing you.”

A ghost of a smile returned to brighten her features. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“I have. Once. It wasn’t as…satisfying as I would have wished.”

“Oh? Why?”

He chose his words carefully. “My partner didn’t trust me enough,” he said. “She didn’t allow herself to release her power to me sufficiently in order to achieve climax.”

She grinned. “That’s a whole lotta words for saying she didn’t come.”

He smiled with her, aware that the heat that suffusing his body was now threatening to spill over. “Yes, I believe you’re right.”

“So…” Her teeth caught her bottom lip. Wesley had to fight the urge to bend down and bite it for her. “…how do we do this?”

* * *

He half-expected her to be gone by the time he emerged from his bedroom. Though he’d finished dressing as hurriedly as he could, there was still the lingering suspicion that this was all a trick, that somehow Buffy had conned her best friend into sticking the knife into the Watcher she detested by pretending to seduce him. After all, it was inconceivable that such a tender young thing as Willow could ever be interested in a man like him.

Except she was still there when he stepped into the lounge. She even looked more relaxed, curled up in the corner of his couch with a book she’d nicked from the shelves.

She leapt to her feet when he entered, dropping the text like a child expecting retribution. Her gaze swept over him, but if she found anything interesting in his attire, it didn’t register in her face. That made sense. He wore suits like this every day when he went out in public.

“We shall need a safe word,” he said without preamble, then realized that, with her inexperience, she might not know to what he was referring. “Do you know what a safe word is?”

Willow nodded. “Something we pick to say in case we want to quit, or when we want it to end.” She flushed at his surprise of her knowledge. “I told you I did research.”

“Right. Of course. Then, when either of us says, ‘Llama,’ we shall stop, all right?” He was pleased when she nodded again in acquiescence. The anticipation of her responses once he was actually touching her was making his cock twitch. “Just follow my lead. I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly enough.”

She glanced around. “But…you don’t have anything to, you know, spank me with. Like a paddle, or a wooden brush or something.”

The thought that she’d given enough thought to this to consider toys brought goose bumps to the surface of his skin. “I prefer to use my hand,” Wesley replied. Slowly, he walked toward her, lifting a single finger to trace the delicate line of her clavicle. “What worth is there in this if I can’t feel what you feel?”

Her breath visibly hitched. “I see your point.”

Though the temptation to kiss her was thundering through him, Wesley forced himself to drop his hand and stand back, affecting his sternest bearing by lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders. “Do you honestly consider this appropriate attire, Miss Rosenberg?” he said, his voice cold as his gaze devoured her form.

His abrupt shift in manner jerked Willow from the slight haze she’d been in. “Huh?” she asked.

“I will repeat myself only this one time,” he warned. He circled around, standing behind her to survey the rear view, enjoying her fidgeting as she fought the urge to turn around and look at him. Stepping so that he was close enough for his erection to nudge against her ass, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Let’s try this again, shall we? And I expect the truth, Miss Rosenberg. Anything less will result in further punishment.”

He didn’t straighten, choosing to remain in such close proximity, his breath fanning evenly across her bare neck. The scent of her coconut shampoo was even stronger from this angle.

“I…I…like this outfit,” Willow said. Her voice was faint, but Wesley believed that she was starting to understand how the game worked. Her next statement confirmed that. “I wore it because I thought you liked it, too.”

He chuckled. When the low rumble elicited a shiver, he ghosted a hand up her arm, letting it come to rest lightly upon her shoulder. The quiver of the muscles beneath her skin reverberated into his palm.
“While that’s an…interesting observation,” he murmured, “it doesn’t really answer my question, now does it? It does, however, satisfy my curiosity as to why you would dare come to me dressed in such a way.” The tips of his fingers began stroking the exposed skin along the neckline of her top. “You were deliberately trying to provoke me, Miss Rosenberg. Does it please you to think you’ve succeeded?”

There was a pause. He wished he could see her face to know what she was thinking, but there was no way he was going to abandon his position behind her.

Then she laughed.

“The thing is, sir…” She stretched out the polite address at the same time she ground her ass back against him. “…I know I’ve succeeded.”

He couldn’t stop the groan coming from his throat. Part of Wesley was tempted to say the safe word then and there, stop the charade of the fantasy and just take her there on the floor. He knew, though, that if the word was uttered, all chance at repletion would be lost. Beyond the world of the fantasy, there was no way Willow would be interested in what he had to offer.

Snapping straight, Wesley clamped his hand on her shoulder and took a step away, guiding her with no room for challenge to the straight-backed chair against the wall. “Sit,” he ordered.

She stumbled, flustered by his sudden attitude shift. It took a moment for her to get situated in the chair, but when she finally lifted wide eyes to stare up at him, the innocent Willow was back.

Wesley held his breath. He was convinced the fantasy was about to end.

“Are you…” She paused. Even standing where he was, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. “…angry, sir?”

He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. The game was still on.

Taking a step back, Wesley remained silent while he slowly removed his suit coat. His eyes bored into Willow, daring her to look away first, secretly proud of her when she did so only just before he reached his shirtsleeves.

“I will not tolerate such behavior, Miss Rosenberg.” Bending his arm, he made a show of removing his cufflinks and setting them to the side before starting the deliberate roll of his sleeve. “Remove your shoes.”

Though her mouth opened to question the curious instruction, Willow hesitated only a moment, staying within the scene as she leaned over to do as she’d been told.

“Now your tights.”

Her hands went to her hips and then stopped.

“Is there a problem?” Wesley asked.

“I have to stand in order to take them off.” Her breasts rose and fell from her quickening breath. “Sir.”

His eyes glittered as he began removing his tie. “You may do so.”

When she stood, it brought their fronts within inches of touching. Though she waited for him to move out of her way, Wesley remained completely still.

The sound of her breathing was all he could hear. It took every ounce of his control not to grab her.

Without taking her eyes from him, Willow lifted the hem of her skirt just enough to reach beneath and grab the waistband of her tights. She had just started to push them down, the black leather pooled at her wrists, when Wesley said, “Turn around.”

She froze for only a fraction a second before complying. As she started to bend over in order to step out of the hose, he flipped up the hem of the skirt in order to expose her bottom.

“It would appear that you’ve forgotten something,” Wesley said. Her skin was unblemished, the bare cheeks of her ass begging him to touch it. “What did you hope to accomplish by not wearing any underwear, Miss Rosenberg?”

Willow stayed in the half-bent position, twisting her neck in order to look back at him. A wicked smile played on her lips. “I didn’t realize you had a rule against no panties,” she teased.

His hand shot out without warning. The hard slap of skin against skin echoed throughout the lounge.

Willow jumped. When she started to straighten, Wesley’s left hand was there to stop her, firm against the middle of her back as he kept her in the subservient position.

“I did not tell you to stand up,” he said, his voice harsh. He waited until the muscles beneath his palm relaxed, grateful for the brief respite to try and divert his attention from his throbbing cock. “In case you were wondering,” he continued, “that was for failing to answer a direct question. Did you honestly believe you’d escape punishment?”

Her breath was shallow, and the skin on her left buttock glowed a faint pink from where he’d spanked it. “Actually, I was kind of hoping to get that punishment a little sooner, sir.”

This time, he did smile. “Wicked girl,” he murmured. “But then…we both knew that, didn’t we?”

It was a rhetorical question. That was something else they both knew.

Soothingly, Wesley stroked the slight color his hand had left on her ass while Willow finished taking off the tights. He was careful to avoid descending lower and letting his knuckles graze across her labia. The longer he drew this out, the better it would be for both of them.

“I don’t think one is nearly enough to countermand the severity of your disobedience,” Wesley commented. “We shall start with ten. Grab your ankles, Miss Rosenberg.”

Though she did so, there was obvious reluctance in the lassitude of her movements. “I thought…” she started, and then stopped, remembering she was speaking out of turn.

“You thought what?”

“I thought you’d bend me over your knee, sir.”

“And why would I do something like that?”

She faltered. “Because then you could control my reactions more,” she finally said. “And you’d be able to feel them, too. Wouldn’t that be better?”

His sharp intake of breath was audible. Though she’d left off the sir with her last question, he decided her direct understanding of just what his need required was worth letting it go. “I believe this position will suffice for now,” he said. “If I deem it necessary to add to your sentence, then I shall reassess our arrangement.”

Her response was a breathy, “Yes, sir.”

Wesley placed himself at her side, better to allow his blows a full swing. Resting his left hand on the small of her back to keep her still, he said, “Count off, Miss Rosenberg.”

The first strike made her squeak in surprise, and the jump of her muscles beneath his firm touch made Wesley’s cock twitch. His hand was already starting to warm, matching that which heated her ass, and he had to keep swallowing convulsively in order to get rid of the blockage that threatened to stop his breathing.

“One.”

He’d lifted his hand for the second when she spoke, having momentarily forgotten his order for her to keep count. Wesley smiled. “Excellent,” he murmured in encouragement.

Subsequent strikes found fresh patches of skin to pink, each one almost a caress as his hands shared the heat from her reddening buttocks. They shared the sting as well, though he remained silent while Willow gave voice to the sensations through her breathy cries and tiny moans. There was no reason for him to speak; she revealed everything he was feeling for him.

How each blow made him shiver.

How he wanted the same kind of fire in his fingers wrapped around his cock.

How just touching her, soft strokes in between to assuage the growing burn, made Wesley want to sink to his knees and kiss the pain away.

And still, she maintained her count, pacing him when his excitement threatened to impede his progress.

By the time he reached the last stroke, his breathing was labored, so ragged within his chest that his arms trembled. His hand came down on the nearest cheek, lower than the others previous, so that when he drew it away, his fingers grazed across the outer lips of her pussy.

Willow shuddered, visibly wracking as her hands released and then curled again around her ankles. A long breath made her shoulders sink, and Wesley heard a whispered, “Nine.”

He paused. “What was that?” he asked carefully.

Though her head must have been swimming from being bent over so long, Willow twisted her neck to look up at him. Her mouth was wet, her tongue tracing her lips so deliberately that he couldn’t help but fix on the sight, and her eyes were nearly black with desire. “Nine,” she repeated, a little bit louder.

Wesley took a step away. When Willow whimpered, he had to fight to keep his somber demeanor. “How disappointing,” he commented. It surprised him he could sound so collected. “I’d always thought you were an intelligent girl, in spite of your more…wicked proclivities. Yet…you can’t even count to ten properly.”

Indignation flared within her eyes, but when she started to straighten, Wesley was back at her side, forcing her to stay down. “I can!” Willow protested.

Letting his free hand glide over her heated ass, he slipped a finger between the firm cheeks. “But that was ten, Miss Rosenberg,” he said. He passed over the tight pucker, pleased when she gasped out loud, and continued downward to her pussy. “Surely you’re not suggesting that I can’t count properly.”

“No! No, sir,” she stammered.

She jumped again when his finger separated her outer lips, gliding through the copious fluids it found there to trace along the sensitive flesh. His mouth watered at the thought of how excited she was. “Ah, perhaps this is the reason. I’ve underestimated you. You’ve actually enjoyed your punishment.”

“Why…why would you say that?”

He shifted to mold himself to her back, reaching down and tugging gently at her wrists. It forced her to release her ankles, and Willow had no choice but to straighten when Wesley did the same.

“Do you have any idea how wet you are?” he whispered in her ear. With her skirt still bunched around her waist, the only thing keeping his hard cock from gliding between the globes of her ass was the thin fabric of his trousers. Wesley splayed a hand across her lower abdomen, driving their hips more tightly together so that there was no mistaking his erection. “Touch yourself, Willow. I want you to see just how aroused you really are.”

He saw her fingers tremble as she did as she was told, disappearing between her thighs before re-emerging glistening with her juices. Grabbing her wrist, he lifted it before her face, turning it around so that the light made her skin shine.

“Such a wicked girl,” he breathed. He guided her hand closer. “Now taste.”

She stiffened within his arms, clearly not expecting that particular command. From his vantage, Wesley could see the muscles in her throat constrict and wondered if he’d taken the fantasy too far.

But then she moved, tilted forward as much as his arm would allow. The tip of her tongue appeared between her teeth, past her lips, licking along the length of her index finger so slowly that Wesley thought he would come in his pants right there.

Then she spoke.

“Your turn, sir.”

He groaned but didn’t hesitate, drawing her hand to his mouth to suck greedily at her fingers. His lashes fluttered closed as he savored the pungent taste, slipping his tongue between in order to get the drops that were hiding in the soft crevice, imagining it was someplace warmer, someplace wetter, that he was exploring instead.

He groaned again. The reverberations made her fingers vibrate in his mouth.

“Sir?”

The soft exhalation drove his eyes reluctantly open, his lids heavy with the want for more. Letting her fingers go was even harder, but Wesley did so, dropping both of their hands to their sides. “Yes?”

With just the slightest of moves, Willow leaned back against him. “You were right,” she said. “I did mess up the count on purpose.”

“Because you enjoyed what I was doing to you.”

The hand he’d just released reached back to him, loosely lacing their fingers together before she drew it slowly to the soft skin of her upper thighs. “Yes.”

His fingertips dug roughly into the tender flesh. It was the only way to root himself in the fantasy.

“I am not doing this for your satisfaction,” Wesley said harshly. “There is a lesson to be learned here, and I will ensure you learn it.” He shoved her away, sucking down a deep breath to calm his racing nerves. “Remove the rest of your clothing, Miss Rosenberg.” At her wide-eyed surprise, he raised a warning finger. “If you insist on behaving like a slut, you force me to treat you as such.”

It took a moment for her to begin. Slim hands trailed to the hem of her top, and as she tugged it up and over her head, Willow kept her eyes on Wes, watching his reaction to her growing nudity. She didn’t wear a bra. Her breasts sprang free of the clingy fabric, cherry nipples hard and puckered from her desire, and as he waited, she trailed her hands down as if to begin with her skirt.

She didn’t.

They stopped at her breasts, cupping the soft flesh, her thumbs brushing across the pointed tips.

“Yes…” Wesley hissed. Their gazes remained locked, each sparking from their barely restrained desire. “Touching yourself was hardly a trial for you, was it, Willow. You dress this way, hoping to attract male attention, hoping I will notice. I daresay you’re even desperate for it. You would do anything to be touched, I’d wager.”

His words deepened the flush in her cheeks. “You felt how wet I was, sir,” she said. “And I felt how hard you were. I don’t think I’m the only one who’d do anything to be touched.”

It was a bold statement, made bolder by the sudden shove of her skirt down her hips. Willow kicked the black leather free of her legs and stepped forward until she was right in front of him.

“Do you like how I look?”

The question disconcerted him. It lacked the guile of her previous words, was spoken with a rush that suggested uncertainty. In that moment, she seemed herself again, fresh and innocent and wide-eyed, begging for approval from anybody who would glance in her direction. In that moment, Wesley’s heart went out to the brilliant young woman who had come to his flat in hopes of having some need fulfilled, a need he recognized all too clearly.

In that moment, the fantasy became real.

“Yes,” he said softly. Lifting his hand, he ghosted his palm across the tip of her breast. “You are quite beautiful. You don’t need such costumes to try and be so.”

She didn’t answer. The small line appearing between her brows betrayed her confusion about this shift.

Wesley cleared his throat. “I believe I’ve approached disciplining your misbehavior in the wrong manner,” he said. “If you crave to be hurt, then perhaps the best punishment is to give you the opposite.”

“I…I…what do you mean, sir?”

“You shall see.” He gestured toward the couch. “Bend over, Miss Rosenberg. Brace yourself against the back of the sofa.”

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Willow did as she was told, exposing her still-pinked bottom for his inspection. Wesley traced the butterfly bows of her shoulder blades before following the shallow path of her spine down to the small of her back. Her muscles tensed, preparing for another blow.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes, sir.”

“And yet…you were asking for more.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

Willow whimpered as his fingertips caressed the faint burns along her bottom. “I…don’t know, sir.”

“Yes, you do.” Pushing the coffee table out of his way, Wesley knelt behind her, intensifying the force of his strokes. This close, the heat suffused his face, and before he could stop himself, he was leaning forward, running his tongue along the reddest portion, tasting the fire of her skin for himself.

She gasped at the sudden contact, but when she tried to squirm away, his hands slid to the sides of her hips to hold her in place.

“You asked for more…” He left a wet trail of kisses along the lower curve of her ass. “…because you believed…” As he sucked gently at the worst of the contact, he realized Willow tasted faintly of strawberries. “…that any contact at all between us…” Ever lower, his tongue brushed across the edge of her coarse curls, making the muscles visibly quiver in her thighs. “…would be preferable to none.”

Willow cried out when he abandoned his attention and sat back on his heels to break all contact with her. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Her head whipped around, stray strands of hair clinging to her cheeks. “You stopped. Why did you stop?”

“And why should I give you what you want?” he shot back. “This is supposed to be punishment. How can I expect you to learn your lesson if I give you that which you seek?”

“I can learn it,” she pleaded. “I’ll do whatever it is you ask. Whatever you want. Just don’t stop. Please. Please.”

“Mere words, Miss Rosenberg. You’ve attempted to use them on me before. They will not work this time.”

“Then let me prove it to you.” She’d abandoned both the sir and her position, twisting to fall to her knees in front of him so that Wesley was forced to gaze at her, eye-to-eye. Her face burned with the vehemence of her words, but how much of that was from the fantasy and how much of that was Willow, he was suddenly unsure.

“You said you thought I was smart,” she continued. “The way I see it, the lesson you want me to learn is to not think of myself. So let me show you how smart I really am.” Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Willow reached between them and ran her palm over the line of his erection, making Wesley jerk in surprise. “Let’s forget about touching me, about getting me excited. Let’s focus on pleasing you. You don’t have to touch me at all.” She squeezed, and he gasped. “Will that show you I’ve learned my lesson?”

“I believe…” His voice croaked, and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “I believe that it just might,” he finally managed to say.

Delight lit up her face. He was shaking as she pulled him to his feet, but she held true to her word, standing far enough away so that no part of her body touched his. Her nimble fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, only the bare tips occasionally brushing across his skin below. So eager for more, Wesley was struck by the notion that this had somehow changed into punishment for him.

“Nobody’s ever made me feel like you have today,” Willow was whispering. When his head tilted down sharply to look at her, all he saw was the top of her head as she knelt to begin with his belt. “You go through your life, and you think you’ve got it all together, that the world makes sense.” The pressure around his waist disappeared as she undid his trousers and let them fall around his ankles. “And all it takes is one little detail to change, and you realize that you didn’t know it at all.”

Her nails caught along his thighs as she pulled his boxers down as well. Wesley’s cock sprang free, slapping along her heated cheek, and he swallowed down his moan as she took it in her hand to rub it along her face.

“I know what you think of me,” she continued. Her breath fanned over his shaft, as soft and heated as her voice. “You think you know who I am. But you’d be wrong. You don’t know the half of it.”

Any attempts to answer her were thwarted by the swipe of her tongue across the head of his cock. All Wesley could do was curl his hand around the back of her neck, keep her from moving away and cheating him of the warm, wet sanctuary of her mouth.

“Do you like this?” she asked. Her lips trailed down his length. When she reached the base, she hesitated for only a moment before continuing downward, licking around his heavy sac to take the path up the opposite side. “Tell me what you like. I want you to enjoy this as much as you can.”

“I…I…” It was his turn to stammer, sensations overwhelming from her hand and her mouth and the tip of her hot tongue. He cleared his throat. “You’re doing just fine, Willow.”

“Fine?” The warmth of her nearness faded, and he looked down to see her gazing up at him. Slight hurt lingered in her eyes. “I don’t want this to be fine. I want this to be amazing. How do I make it amazing?” Fire suddenly blazed in the hazel depths. “You’re the teacher here, sir. How do you expect me to learn if you don’t play your part as well?”

Her unexpected rebellion spurred Wesley to tighten his grip around the back of her head. “You wish to know what I want?” he queried, his voice low and deadly. “All right. First, I want you to open that delicious little mouth of yours. Then, I want to feel you all around my cock while you suck me off. I know you want this, but what I’m most curious about is how badly, how far you’ll go to get what it is you desire. Do we understand each other?”

She smiled, in spite of the fact that he knew he must be hurting her slightly with how he was holding her head. “Perfectly, sir.”

Without breaking eye contact, Willow opened her mouth and circled the head of his cock, swirling her tongue around the cap before sweeping across the slit and tasting the pre-come that had accumulated there. He did nothing to push her further, but he didn’t let her go, either. He simply followed her lead as he watched her slowly descend down his hard shaft.

He doubted she’d had much experience at oral sex. In spite of her ongoing relationship with Oz, the fact that she was still a virgin spoke volumes about what she’d probably done with the young man. As Wesley devoured the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her scarlet lips, though, he discovered he didn’t care. What she lacked in technique, she made up for with enthusiasm.

His fingers threaded through her hair, holding himself steady while her continuous moans around his cock made his knees begin to tremble. When she slid a hand between his thighs in order to start fondling his balls, however, he knew he had to take more drastic measures.

“Willow,” he said, though even he could barely himself speak. She never stopped in her sucking, and it took reaching down with his other hand to grasp the other side of her head before she noticed he was trying to get her attention. “Sit back.”

Her eyes were luminous as she did so. “Did I…? Wasn’t it…any good?”

The fear in her voice was palpable. “It was extraordinary,” Wesley assured. Already, he missed the feel of her. “I just wish to…change things slightly.”

She watched as he inched around, sitting on the edge of the couch while he removed first his shoes and then his trousers and underwear. He was about to take off his shirt as well when a thought struck him.

“Come here,” he said softly. Waiting until she was kneeling between his knees, he reached forward to run his thumb across her swollen mouth. “You are very beautiful, do you know that, Willow?”

She didn’t answer. She merely waited for him to continue.

His hand dropped to her shoulder. For the first time, he noticed the soft spray of freckles adorning her skin. “I think you’ve learned the first part of your lesson extremely well. If I hadn’t stopped you just then, you can be assured that it would have been impossible for me to do so again before I’d come.”

“But I thought…I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“And I still do. But it’s time to take the next step in learning what it is that pleases me.” For the first time, he allowed himself the luxury of touching her breast, feeling the weight of it before skimming his palm across the hard tip. When she squeaked in pleasure at the unexpected contact, he smiled. “Do you trust me?” Wesley asked.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her reply.

“Good. Take off my shirt.”

Her hands were shaking as she leaned forward, sliding them beneath the cool cotton to push it off his shoulders. Wesley took advantage of her nearness to lean in and lick the curve of her neck, running his tongue upward to her ear before capturing the lobe between his teeth. His bite made her gasp.

“You’ve been driving me mad,” he whispered into her ear. Her hands were fluttering where she struggled to get his shirt off the rest of the way; he could only assume that it was due, at least in small part, to his words. Good. “I can’t sleep without you bedeviling my dreams. I sit at my work, and all I can see before me is a red-haired witch, determined to divert my focus.”

“I…I didn’t…”

“Sssshhh…” He laid a single finger across her lips, meeting her confused eyes with his own clear ones. “We’re not here tonight for apologies or explanations. Tonight is about something else entirely.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Wesley bent forward and brushed a feather kiss across her mouth.

When he pulled back, Willow was staring at him so wide-eyed that he knew she was no longer within the moment of the fantasy. “You kissed me,” she said. “Why…why would you kiss me?”

“Because it pleases me to,” he replied. It was an answer not based within the fantasy, either.

Neither moved. Wesley could see her pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat.

She was the first to speak, but when she did, it was the last thing he expected to hear.

“Llama.”

TBC...