Touch of Evil
Part Two
Author: Amanda Arlequin
E-mail: aca203@is8.nyu.edu
Rating: R/NC-17 overall (some parts are mild)
Summary: This is the story of the cat and mouse game Angelus plays with
Willow, and the romance that follows.
Spoilers: This takes place after Angel loses his soul but before Becoming,
which never happened in my 'verse.
I will keep and discard Buffy lore as I see fit.
Disclaimer: While I have taken the liberty of adding a few characters of
my own creation, all of the original BtVS characters and their world
belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The WB. All are used
without permission and no copyright infringement is intended.
Throughout the remainder of the night and the following day, Willow moved
in and out of consciousness. At times, nonsensical dreams pervaded Willow's
mind. Familiar faces: Xander, Buffy, Oz, Giles, slipped through Willow's
thoughts but she could never hold on to them. It was like trying to grasp
grains of sand from the breeze. However, there was one dominant image that
kept returning. Every time she slipped into deep unconscious sleep Angel
joined her.
Her eyelids weighed heavy against her cheeks, but Willow could see farther
than the boundaries of optical darkness. Foregrounded in her mind and her
sight was Angel. Throughout her sleep, he comforted her. He wrapped
Willow's mind and soul with his essence. She wiped the tears from his eyes
when he cried and apologized for getting her into this situation. Willow
tried to wipe the guilt away along with those bloody tears. She could never
blame him. Not in this place where their souls met, where there could be no
pain. She felt none of the chains of human emotions. Nothing but love
pervaded her soul's existence.
The pain only came when Willow slipped into consciousness and out of the
dream state where love and Angel existed as one. As the dreams faded,
Angel faded along with them, leaving Willow's memories and her thoughts
empty, only to be filled by the painful aching of her sore body.
It wasn't until the next evening that Willow was pulled out of her dreams
for the last time. It took her several minutes before she could open her
eyes and when she did there was a red haze that colored her vision making
it almost impossible to see.
Willow tried to stretch and felt every muscle in her body screaming in
protest.
As Willow's vision cleared, her other senses began to return. Willow's
brain slowly processed the scent of roses. Confused, Willow blinked and
looked around the room, trying to find the source of the wonderful scent.
Pulling herself slowly into a sitting position, Willow realized that she
was lying in a literal bed of roses. Cupping a handful of multi-colored
rose petals, Willow let them slip lazily through her fingers, to mix once
again with the pile around her.
Willow continued to stretch and with surprise she realized she was no
longer handcuffed to the bed. Her arms and legs were free. Of course, her
body still pounded out a steady rhythm of pain and so she doubted she could
even use this advantage farther from relaxing her sore muscles. She was
pretty certain she wouldn't be able to get out of bed anytime soon.
Gazing around the room, Willow saw she was alone. Her eyes fell on to the
dresser next to the bed. A tall, inviting glass of orange juice lay just
out of reach. Willow's mouth began to water. As Willow clucked her tongue,
trying to clear her mouth of the incessant dryness, she carefully rolled
closer to the dresser, her fingers grasping for the cool glass. With great
effort, Willow pulled herself into a semi-sitting position and brought the
glass to her mouth. Each sip revitalized her, spreading like liquid ice
through her veins, chasing away bits and pieces of lethargy. < I never knew
Orange Juice could taste this good. It may be my favorite drink after this
whole experience. >
When the juice was finished, Willow allowed herself to slump down into the
comfortable pillows, her body's movement displacing the roses. Willow could
feel sleepiness lurking at the recesses of her mind, waiting to snatch her
up again, but first, Willow had some things she needed to consider.
Memories of the other night, however long ago that night had been, danced
through her mind. Willow was still very much afraid of Angelus. He may not
have killed her then but she harbored no illusions that she might be saved
or that he'd develop a heart and let her go. His very nature was evil and
so it was only a matter of time before he killed her, or worse.
Willow shuddered at the thought.
Willow jerked her head up, wincing at the pain from her sore muscles, at
the sound of the heavy iron door being pushed open. Spiky brown tufts
followed by a flash of dark, mischievous eyes filled Willow's vision as
Angel stepped into the room, carelessly shoving the door closed behind him
as if it weighed nothing. His eyes smoldered as he stood casually by the
door, taking in Willow's frozen form. "It looks like my little birdie is
finally awake. What say thee raven, was your sleep a peaceful one?"
Willow blinked as she tried to gage his mood. As usual, it was unreadable.
His voice was a silky purr that gave the illusion of pleasure, but his eyes
flashed with a fire that took Willow's breath away, chilling her to the
bone. Whatever he was thinking, he definitely had something in mind for her
tonight. She could tell by the way he stalked the perimeter of the bed,
each step purposeful and well timed.
That was something Willow had begun to notice, and even appreciate about
Angelus. He exuded a calculated control and calm, at least when he wasn't
in a rage, that impressed Willow. Angel had always been the strong, silent
type. Angelus, by contrast, was sharp-tongued, and obviously quite clever.
Every movement, every word, every look, seemed to be calculated for
efficiency of motion and of result. It was obvious to Willow that a
brilliant mind lied in the fathomless depths of his eyes. It was a shame,
really, that it was used entirely for evil. Willow couldn't help but wonder
at the accomplishments Angel would have made in the world, for the world,
if it hadn't been for Darla.
Angelus stopped once he reached Willow's side and took a seat at the edge
of the bed, his body angled so that he hovered over her. He didn't say
anything, and Willow realized he was waiting for her to answer his
question. "I'm fine," she croaked, fearful of the predatory glint in his
deep-set eyes.
"My poor Willow, you're throat is all hoarse. Now what on earth could have
caused that?" A slow, deliberate smile complimented the sarcasm in his
voice, and Willow felt her temper flare despite her fear.
Angelus ignored Willow's fuming and placed a hand onto her stomach and, for
the first time, Willow realized that she wasn't wearing any clothes.
Sometime, while she was unconscious, Angelus must have undressed her,
because all she was wearing now was her black lace bra and matching
panties. Willow felt the heat rising in her cheeks as her eyes took in the
bra she had brought on a whim a few weeks ago with Buffy. The only reason
she had put it on was because she had been planning to see Oz the other
night and well, the bra had made her feel beautiful. All it did now was
make her painfully aware of how much skin she was exposing. Her nipples
were readily visible through the lace pattern for anyone to gaze upon, and,
at the moment, anyone counted as Angelus. His gaze was lascivious as his
eyes roamed over her chest. His deft fingers traced circles on her stomach,
making her shiver.
Angelus lowered his head until Willow could feel his cold lips against her
bare skin, grazing the valley between her breasts. "Has anyone ever told
you how much black lace suits you Willow. The contrast with your pale skin
is really quite stunning... enough to take a man's breathe away."
Willow drew in a sharp breath and tried to scamper out from under Angelus,
but she soon found it impossible. His body was now on top of hers, holding
her captive. While Willow struggled futilely against Angelus, he continued
his oral exploration of her breasts. His tongue darted between the lace,
suckling at the warm skin with infantile exuberance. He carefully avoided
her nipples, preferring to tease her through denial of what she wanted.
And she did want it. Without meaning to, Willow's body was responding to
him. Her breathing and heart rate had quickened, and not just from fear,
but becoming an irregular, uncontrollable testament to her desire. When his
tongue danced across one of her nipples on it's way to her other breast,
Willow couldn't stop the moan that escaped from her lips.
Willow knew it was wrong to be feeling this way, especially with Angelus.
Not only did she have a boyfriend, not only was this Buffy's ex-boyfriend,
but this was a demon. The only pleasure he knew was that which he sought
for himself, sadistically stealing it from others, and so she shouldn't be
feeling pleasure from him. Her mind knew this much, but her body responded
to a different sort of logic. The desire that coursed through her veins at
his presence was one as old as man, one as old as animals.
At this moment in time, reason abandoned Willow and she lusted for him.
Before Willow could even finish her
thought, her mind shut down; all rational, comprehensible thought held
ransom by the fire that was flaring throughout her body. His lips had
abandoned her breasts to his hands, moving on to explore the flat contours
of her lower stomach.
Willow began to writhe beneath Angelus, one hand gripping the bed sheets
beneath her, the other hooking itself onto the silky strands of Angelus'
hair. His tongue had sensitized Willow, causing the pads of her palms to
tingle at the feel of his hair beneath them.
Abruptly, Angelus broke all contact with Willow's body, gracefully rising
from the bed in a single movement. A feral light shone in his eyes, his
lips curled in a cruel, self-satisfied smile. "Well, well, well, looks like
Willow the cat is alive. My little alleycat in her black lace bra and
panties." Chuckling, Angelus left, leaving a flushed and panting Willow
alone in her bed of roses.
On to
Part Three
Back to
Part One
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