Title: What Wasted Looks Like -- Willow's story

Author: meagan <nutmeg@serv.net>

Summary: Willow, um, goes into detail.

Spoilers: Season 4 rumors and Oz's side of this story.

Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. If they were mine, things would be different. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB (even though they *really* don't deserve these guys after what they did to us in May), and anyone else I forgot.

Rating: I'm going to guess NC-17.

Distribution: Please ask. If nothing else, it will be at my site. http://www.oocities.org/Area51/Shuttle/9643/

Feedback: Oh, my, yes, please. I'm considering making this into a series, but if there's no interest, I'll focus my energy on something else. Also, this is my first attempt at non-slash smut, and I'm not sure how successful I was.

Notes: You want details? Here are some details. I apologize for the extensive non-slash and non-Spike sections, but it's part of the series, and I *had* to get Willow, ahem, happy. This was a hell of a lot of fun to write. Remember, the title on this means absolutely nothing other than the fact that I was searching for a title, and I happened to be watching _Face/Off_ when that line jumped out at me. And here's the deal. This has morphed into a three-part story. One part each for Oz, Willow, and Spike. And then, depending on feedback, it may continue as a series. If you missed Oz's or Spike's part (and I strongly suggest you read those first, but, hey, you can do whatever you want) the first time, either email me or go to the site above. It's with the Reversal series. Also, in this universe, Willow is on the Pill, Oz's sole previous sexual partner was a virgin, and no cooties can survive in a vampire's body. So pregnancy and disease aren't an issue. Also, this would have gone out Thursday morning, but that virus that flowermouse sent a warning about crippled our network at work (seventy percent of the company *nationwide*. Amazing in a bad way. Many people may have tomorrow off because of this mess, including me. It's the grownups' version of a snowday). So I had lots of extra time to think of more things for these three to do. Sadly, I didn't manage to work them all in, but, hey, feedback would encourage me to do a sequel. It's a heck of a lot longer than I had originally planned, but it was so much fun to write that I didn't mind having all of my time consumed by it. I hope someone enjoys reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Dedicated to Gail because great minds think alike. And to Makeda because I don't want a death on my hands. And to Rachel who gave me feedback even though she was speechless. And to Cinder who made me realize just what I'm doing to these three. It's not just a threesome. See what happens when you give feedback? Your name goes here.

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How did it happen? Or should I even attempt to figure that out? And does it really matter?

One minute, I'm happily cuddled with Oz, watching _Tapeheads_, and eating ice cream. The next -- well, Oz has already told that story, so I guess I need to explain why I did what I did.

Really, I thought that Spike was just joking around. He has an odd sense of humor, so it was possible. And it was also possible that he really didn't know what chocolate chip mint ice cream tasted like. And it was possible that he knew but just wanted a taste rather than a whole bowl. And, knowing Spike, it was always possible that he did want a whole bowl but was too lazy to get up and get one himself. At any rate, when he asked for a taste, I thought my reaction was supposed to be a laugh and cooperation. So I complied.

After he cleaned my spork, Spike smiled and moved his face into our personal space. I could feel Oz tense under me. Pleasepleaseplease, let there be no fighting. Oz is very protective of me -- in a good way -- and will stop at nothing to defend me. Then, as if he changed his mind at the last second, Spike pressed his lips against Oz's. Not mine. And it was one of the most amazing things I had ever seen. Spike parted his lips, gently nudging his tongue into Oz's mouth. Oz's eyes were closed, and he just looked *content*. So *that* is what Oz looks like when we're kissing. I'll have to remember to keep my eyes open more often. I heard my gasp before I realized it was me making that noise. And so the spell was broken.

Oz didn't look at me. He *couldn't* look at me. I could tell he was ashamed. He had kissed Spike, and he had enjoyed it. Even if I hadn't known him well enough to just *sense* it, I would have been able to tell from the growing bulge pressing against my backside. But he didn't seem to realize that *I* enjoyed it. A little too much for comfort. That is, my enjoyment level was causing me physical discomfort. I don't mean that I wanted it to stop. I mean I wanted it to continue and expand -- and involve me. "Do it again?" My plea was ignored. So I did the only thing I could think of. I wiggled. Well, okay, that really wasn't something that *occurred* to me. I was just reacting to the need for friction between my legs. It just so happened that rubbing my thighs together caused the wiggling movement. "Please?" I ran my fingers along Oz's arm, hoping he realized it was okay with me if this wasn't okay with him. I could feel his whole body relax under me. Bingo -- he was okay with it but needed permission. Well, hey, if these guys need approval and direction, I guess I'll have to give it to them. If I have the nerve.

"Well, I think I need more of that stuff." Spike seemed to understand my situation. I needed to give directions, but I'm not the order-giving type. Unless it's necessary or accepted. And he was willing to accept my authority. A thrill ran through me. I had to stop and center myself before I lost control. And my nerve.

This time, Oz was ready for the kiss. Another amazing sight. I could see Spike's tongue stroking the roof of Oz's mouth. More ice cream. And Spike sucked Oz's lower lip.

It was all too much for me. I needed some action. So I did the least logical thing I could think of. I sat up and trailed melted ice cream along Oz's neck and throat. Now, I could have licked it off myself, but for some reason, I decided to tell Spike to do it. Honestly, I thought he would laugh, inform me that was my job, and tell us to get a room. Then I could have my wicked way with my boyfriend. Instead, that silly vampire bowed his head, said, "Yes, mistress," and carefully cleaned Oz's neck.

Suddenly, Oz pushed Spike away from us, scooping me up and carrying me to one of the spare bedrooms Spike kept ready for anyone who needed to crash there. We all do that once in a while. Now that we don't have the library any more, we needed *someplace* to stay when necessary. I landed on the bed, tangling my legs in the blankets. Oz loomed over me, breathing heavily, eyes shining. At first, I was scared. Terrified. After what I had just done, what was he thinking? What was he going to do? Then I looked in his eyes. No rage, no jealousy, no fear, no possessiveness. Just lust.

And trust. That was the amazing thing. Even after what had just transpired on the couch, he trusted me to tell him when to stop and to not be afraid of him. So I did what any horny girlfriend would do. I pulled off my shirt and then unzipped his pants, shoving them to his knees. He pushed my hands away, and I relinquished control of the situation, remembering how I felt being in control just a few minutes earlier. If that was how he felt as well, I was in for one hell of a ride. He removed his pants and stood back, as if contemplating his next move, but his grin told me that he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

My pants went next, tossed casually in the corner. Then my panties. He paused, making me squirm under his eyes. Not out of embarrassment but because I wanted him to hurry up and get this over with. One touch could send me over the edge, and he was denying me even that. That was one drawback to having a partner who knows you as well as he knows me: He knows exactly what to do to draw out the torment. And he's very, very good at it.

So I was left sprawled on the bed, clad in only my bra and my socks. Oz decided I was still not properly dressed and unlatched the front of my bra, gently pushing the cups off my breasts and letting it dangle from my arms by the shoulder straps. He stood back, watching me while he quickly undressed. His next move has to grab me by the waist again and hold me against the wall. My bra fell to the floor. Everything happened so quickly that I'm not exactly sure what the sequence was, but all of a sudden, I found myself wrapping my legs around his waist, pinned to the wall, hoping that his thrusting didn't bruise me too badly. I had a fleeting thought of that scene in _Very Bad Things_ when Jeremy Piven's character and the stripper are in the bathroom, but I pushed it aside because that's *not* exactly a comforting image in that sort of situation.

He sucked my neck, bringing me back to him. Me, pinned to the wall, making sounds that could only be described as keening, legs wrapped around his waist, arms grasping his body, fingernails raking across his back, no longer caring if I ended up bruised. Him, pounding into me against the wall, grunting, hands roughly squeezing my hips and ass. Nothing like our previous sessions of gentle lovemaking. And I loved every second of it. My head fell forward, and I licked his neck. Chocolate chip mint ice cream. The image of the two guys kissing flashed through my mind, and this time, the thought grabbed me at the same time Oz's fingers found my clit. One quick twist, and my entire body spasmed. His orgasm immediately followed, and he carefully pulled us away from the wall and back to the bed.

We laid there for a while, silent. I'm not sure what he was thinking, but I was contemplating exactly why he was pushed to the breaking point. And how I could get him to do it again. "Oz? Can we talk? About tonight?"

His reply was a sigh. "Yeah. I feel really bad about what just happened. The Spike thing just got me wound up, and it felt like I was going to explode unless we did something about it." An even bigger sigh. "I'm sorry. But the Spike part was nice." He stroked my hair. "Can we do it again? I mean the Spike part. The other part was good, too, but I don't want to hurt you." He paused, turning my head to look directly into my eyes. "Unless you're okay with the other part. Are you okay with the other part?"

"Oh, yeah. More than okay." I stroked his thigh. The mere *thought* of doing that again made me want to jump him even though I was incredibly sore and sticky. I was also thoroughly exhilarated and exhausted. "But don't you think we should make sure Spike's not upset about his part? Then we can figure out where to go from there."

"Good idea." Naked, he moved to the door to call Spike in. He grabbed his boxers and t-shirt on the way back to the bed, pulling them on, most likely to appear less threatening to Spike. Oz is totally un-self-conscious about being nude in front of me. Not conceited, but comfortable in his skin. And comfortable with me watching him. And I feel the same way in front of him. It had taken quite a few rounds in his van during the day between classes, but we both got each other to that same comfort level. It no longer seemed strange to watch him walk around like that. I was actually kind of sad to see him put on clothing, even if it was just underwear. He returned to the bed and crawled under the covers, pulling my body to his. Warmth. Comfort. Support. Good things.

A slightly sheepish Spike entered the bedroom. He had heard everything. Well, maybe not our quiet discussion that led to him being called into the bedroom, but definitely the cries that led up to it. And the scent hanging heavily in the air wasn't exactly that of fresh clean laundry. He looked around the room nervously, apparently looking for a place to sit. Spike, nervous? Fortunately or unfortunately, the room had no chairs, so it was the floor or the bed. I patted the bed. He relaxed slightly -- *very* slightly -- and sat down. On the very edge of the bed. Facing away from us. With his back as straight as a board. Very much the anti-Spike.

This would not do. "Spike, I think you need to be closer to us. And facing us." He didn't move, so I tried another approach. "Spike, move closer and look at us." That worked. Almost. He moved a little closer and relaxed a bit, but he was still pretty far away, staring at the floor and far too tense. I touched Oz's arm and nodded at Spike's back. Oz understood. He always understands. I can't believe how lucky I am to have him.

He moved closer to Spike. "First of all, if you want to walk out of here and pretend that we never kissed in the living room, this is your chance. I won't like it, but I'll understand." He paused, waiting for a reaction, I guess. When nothing happened, he continued, moving still closer to Spike, stroking Spike's neck. "But we want more. So the next step is picking a safe word."

*That* got a reaction. "So you're not upset?" Spike was afraid *we* were mad at *him*? If he hadn't been as serious as he was, I would have laughed.

"No, we're not." Now I moved to his side, close enough for him to feel my breath on his neck, for Oz to wrap his arm around my waist. "And Oz wants to do it again."

"But what about *you*?" Spike turned to face me, pulling back so he could see and address more than just my eyes. "Do you want to do it again?"

His eyes roamed over my body, his startled face reminding me that my clothing was crumpled in the corner of the room. What a change from last spring. Oz's arm held me in place, just in case I decided I needed to bolt from the room. Not a chance. He did need to hold me back, however, so I wouldn't attack one of them. This discussion was getting to me, and I was not about to leave the room without finding release. "Please?"

"No." Oz's voice startled me. His fingers running up my thigh told me that he wasn't in complete disagreement with me. He just didn't want me left out of the hands-on part of the fun. "Not right now." He pulled his hand away and settled against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. "Tell him what you want, Will."

"But -- safe word?"

"How about... frog. We can always renegotiate later." A look passed between him and Spike. I didn't quite know how to read it, but I knew it was a good thing. And I didn't know what to say. Oz noticed my hesitation. "Come here, baby." I moved to Oz's arms. I felt safe there. Anything I said from there was okay. I still feel that way, but some things have changed. I don't always have to be there to be safe.

Anyway.

Oz's hands gently stroked my breasts, holding me in place and reminding me once again that my clothing was not on my body. Suddenly, I realized I wasn't completely naked. Oddly, it made me feel even more vulnerable. "Spike? My feet are too warm. Remove my socks."

Spike gazed at me for a long time. So long that it made me a bit nervous that I had overstepped some boundary I hadn't learned about yet. But, finally, he turned his attention to my right foot.

I was completely unprepared for his next move. Then again, the whole evening had been one huge shock after another, so I really shouldn't have been too surprised. He gently grasped my ankle, lifting my foot to his shoulder. His fingers danced along the inside of my leg, and my own fingers tried to make their way to my still-slightly-sore center. Oz noticed my movement and moved his own hands from my breasts to my hands, pulling them away, leaving me open for Spike's consideration. And consider me he did. Those fingers -- they just kept touching my calf and ankle until he finally pulled off my sock. Then he gently kissed my instep and placed my foot on the bed beside him before he picked up the other foot and repeated the process, this time placing my foot next to his other hip. And then he waited.

"Tell him what you want." Oz's soft voice reminded me that I was in charge. Well, to a certain extent. He still had control of my hands, I was completely naked, and my feet were on either side of Spike, so there was no way I could shift or touch myself and relieve the tension growing between my legs, but there was still a bleached blond awaiting my next direction.

Only one thing mattered at that particular moment. Considering the creative way he chose to carry out my previous order, I decided the best way to word the directives was as simply as possible. "Make me come."

Again, a look passed between the guys. Did I say something wrong? Did I actually *say* those words rather than just think them? I was completely out of my element. Finally, confused, I looked up at Oz. He nodded to Spike. "She's the boss."

Spike nodded back. So he had been waiting to make sure this was okay with Oz. I would have been irritated, except I remembered Spike was from a different time when women more or less belonged to their husbands, as if a wife was nothing more than livestock. This is not how things work with Oz and me. Have I mentioned how lucky I am to have him? Yes? Well, okay then.

Back to Spike. Those fingers finally stopped stroking my ankles and moved up the insides of my legs, stopping to grasp my knees and lift them up off the bed. Once my legs and feet were positioned to his satisfaction, he resumed making his way up my thighs, gently massaging with his fingers. Very talented fingers. I have high standards for fingers. After all, I'm dating a musician. So, massaging. And licking. And sucking. Oh, my, the man knows how to use his mouth. No wonder Oz looked so content earlier.

Oz. That tongue. The tongue that was wrapping itself around my clit had -- less than one hour earlier -- been stroking my boyfriend's mouth. My boyfriend who was currently holding my hands out of the way of the tongue at my core, allowing the tongue to lap up our combined fluids out of me. Again, the image combined with the pressure sent me over the edge. Will I ever get that image out of my head? Do I *want* to?

Slowly, I realized Oz was still holding my wrists. And since his hands were occupied, there was no way he could deal with his own erection. And I was too drained to do anything about it. But there was one person in the room that could.

"Spike? It's Oz's turn."

Grinning, he lifted his head from the bed between my legs. "I thought you'd never remember." He frowned at me. "You're going to have to move, though. You're blocking the target." I moved out of Oz's arms. This time, he moved so he was leaning against me. I pulled his t-shirt off. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, his back against my breasts. Spike's gaze made me wonder what he saw. Two overly-excited teenagers with no self-control? Two people in love? A couple of new playthings that he will get tired of some day soon? Finally, he reached to Oz's waistband and tugged the boxers off. Oz's erection sprang forth, and Spike just continued to grin.

"Spike? No offense, but could you get on with it?" Oz's voice was slightly strained.

"It's up to the boss." He smiled at me, waiting for approval.

I had to laugh. Nodding, I told Spike to continue. "Just finish the job. It's been a long night."

His smile just kept expanding. He ran his fingers along the underside of Oz's shaft, as if contemplating his next move. Once again, he carefully, deliberately began stroking and licking. Oz moaned, moving his hands to Spike's head. I grabbed his hands. Hey, turnabout's fair play. And Spike knows what to do. Oh, my, does he ever know what to do. He doesn't need to be held in place. Fascinated, I watched as the mouth and hands that had minutes earlier been caressing me focused on Oz. I didn't notice that my hand had taken Oz's on a journey to his chest, gently scraping his nipples with our fingernails, until he hissed and thrust his hips up into Spike's mouth. Spike chuckled and grabbed Oz's hips, holding them to the mattress.

I thought that the image of Oz and Spike kissing would be seared in my memory forever. Well, okay, it is, but so is the image of Spike's bleached hair bobbing against Oz's red-haired groin, tongue wrapping around Oz's cock and sucking the dried fluids off of him just as that tongue had lapped them out of me. Spike's hand moved under Oz. Oz chose that moment to turn his head to mine and kiss me, so I couldn't quite see what Spike was doing, but I had a good idea. Guys have an extra little something girls don't have, and one nice stroke at just the right moment and, well... That's when we discovered that Spike swallows. Finally, he pulled away from Oz's cock, blond head resting on Oz's thigh.

"Okay, it's your turn." Spike and I both looked at Oz, startled. All I wanted to do was take a nice, long shower and wash the sweat off my body. And I was sore. No more touching me that night. And I didn't have the energy to touch anyone else. Oz pulled away from me, crawling down the bed to Spike's legs. "Will, could you take off his shirt for me? It's not fair that he's the only one dressed in here."

Oh. Not something I was to be actively involved with. Okay. This is something I can handle. Spike's shirt joined my clothing in the corner of the room, and I stretched across the bed behind him so I could hold Spike if necessary. Oz went to work removing the rest of Spike's clothes. Yep, definitely not a natural blond, as if that was a surprise to anyone. But much to my surprise, once Spike's pants were tugged off, Oz knew exactly what to do. Spike *whimpered*. I asked Oz about that later -- how he had known what to do. He shrugged and said, "I just thought about everything you do that I like and did it to him." You want an ego-booster? There you go.

As I watched Spike, eyes closed, concentrating on the sensations attacking his erection, an evil idea occurred to me. I grabbed his hands. They weren't holding Oz's head, but I wanted them in mine anyway. "Oh, Spike? Squeeze my right hand if you want to come and my left if you *need* to come." The control he has is amazing. He squeezed my right hand gently, like he was massaging my breast. Oz's eyes met mine as Spike continued to squeeze my right hand. Then those eyes lit with an idea as evil as mine. Oz wriggled his right index finger at me. I smiled and nodded. The finger dragged lightly along Spike's thigh. His right hand gripped mine more tightly. The finger moved out of my sight, presumably to tease Spike's sac. Spike dropped my right hand, moving it to the bed. His left hand clenched mine. "Okay, you can come when Oz does to you what you did to him." The hand tightened its grip. "And let go of my hand." Both of his hands clenched the sheet beneath him, shredding it. Hey, it's his house, and they're his sheets. If he ruins them, he has to replace them himself.

Oz met my gaze. Still sucking Spike's erection, Oz pulled his right hand away and waved it at me. What else could I do? I smiled and nodded. The hand went back under Spike. A few long seconds passed, and then Spike groaned, arching into Oz's mouth.

At that moment, the front door banged open. "Hey, anyone home?" Buffy's voice rang down the hall. Spike began to groan again, and Oz quickly kissed him to keep his mouth occupied. I shivered, remembering the last places those mouths had been. I pulled on my pants and shirt to greet her. If Spike went, there would be too many questions, and if Oz went, she would want to wait for me to come out to see her, so it was just easier if I took care of things.

"Hey, Buff."

She whirled around, clearly surprised at my appearance. "Hi. Um, what have you been doing? You look, uh, disheveled."

"Well, Oz and I..." I shrugged, hoping she would decide that the two lovebirds should be left alone.

"Ah. Understood." She grinned. "Tired of the van?"

"Something like that." I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. "So are you through with patrol for the night?" Please, say no.

She sighed. "I wish. No, I just needed to use the little girls' room, and this place was along the way." Oh, great. She's going to pass the bedroom and see non-red hair in there. She noticed me tense. Thankfully, she misread my tension. "Oz, could you close the door so your girlfriend doesn't freak on me?" She never was the most tactful person, but this time, I silently thanked whatever gods were responsible for this. The door shut, and she made her way to the bathroom.

Finally, she left, and I returned to the bedroom, water bottles in hand. "Well, we found another safe word." Oz was cradling Spike's head in his lap, stroking Spike's hair.

Spike clarified, "Buffy." He grimaced. "She just ruins the mood."

And so that, gentle reader, is how it all started.

~~~ the end ~~~

They don't sell it, though. 'Cause I looked. I looked on the internet.

Hosting a cable-access game show? I could do that.