A Dish Best Served Cold

By Laure Alexander

Willow sat on her bed, trying to make sense of her poli sci book and just about ready to give up and have another crying fit, when the phone rang. Sniffling, she picked it up. "Hello?"

"Willow. Don't you sound wonderfully miserable."

"What do you want, Angelus?" she asked, her voice harsh at his cheerful tone.

"Buffy's on the rag and even though I have no problem with the blood, she gets all freaky about it." He sighed in disgust and continued, "Dru's been all over Spike for the last week for some baffling reason. And, I'm horny. Want to fuck?"

At the mention of Spike and Drusilla, Willow felt her throat constrict and the tears prickle the corners of her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Willow stared at the phone, then at her poli sci book, then put the phone back to her ear, her heart thudding slowly in her chest and her common sense shutting down. "No killing."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, no killing. Why would I want to kill you?"

"I'll come to the mansion as long as you can guarantee my safety." Her voice was icy and hard as her tears dried up.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. No one will touch you. Well, no one but me. Are you serious, Willow?" Angel seemed a little stunned by her acquiescence.

"Totally. Thirty minutes." Hanging up the phone, Willow strode into her bathroom to wash her face and brush her hair, her mind blanking out all the objections to her rash decision. Meaningless sex with a demon seemed to be the way her life was going these days.

*****

Willow knocked on the front door of the mansion and it immediately was opened by Angel. He stared down at the determined yet strangely empty face of the girl and offered her his hand.

Taking his hand, Willow let him draw her into the house and up the stairs to his suite of rooms. They were decorated in bold colors and a lot of black. Through the sitting room was the bedroom where a huge bed dominated one wall-- black cast-iron, high posted with red satin sheets.

"I can't believe you actually came," Angel admitted his surprise.

Turning, she gave him a cool look and her hands went to the buttons on her shirt. "You're not the only horny one."

Giving her a wicked grin, Angel moved to lounge on the bed and watch her undress. Willow removed each piece of clothing unselfconsciously, not even looking at him. Her mind kept trying to scream at her, but she was becoming quite good at ignoring the logical side of herself.

Going on pure instinct, Willow slipped her panties off and crawled naked onto the bed to kneel next to Angel. He ran his eyes over her appreciatively, then sat up to draw her against his hard body. As his mouth lowered to hers, Willow sharply jerked her head back.

"No kissing. I want you to fuck me and fuck me hard." Reaching into the open neck of his shirt, she grabbed the thin silk and ripped down. Her hands caressed his naked flesh as she stripped him of the rags, then she leaned down and ran her tongue over one of his nipples.

Sliding her hands down, she found his cock thrusting hard against the tight leather of his pants. Cupping him, she urged him onto his back.

Angel's eyes narrowed at this strange mood she was in, but as her hand caressed his dick, all thought began to scatter from his brain and he groaned in pleasure.

Willow's nimble fingers unfastened his pants and pulled them open, freeing his cock. Lowering her head, she sucked the tip into her mouth. Her lips closed around him and slid down until his cock butted the opening to her throat.

"Willow," Angel groaned, his hands tangling in her hair.

Willow began to bob her head up and down, sucking expertly as her fingers rubbed his balls, making him groan again. Finally pulling her mouth free, Willow straddled him and without any other preliminaries lowered herself onto his cock.

Moaning slightly as he filled her tight passage, Willow closed her eyes and splayed her hands on his chest, kneading his muscles. Angel's hands gripped her ass and lifted her, only to drop her again, impaling her. Flinging her head back as a surprising heat flooded her--she hadn't really expected to enjoy it--Willow began to move, rising and falling and twisting on his cock.

Angel's hands moved up her body to cup her breasts, his fingers twisting her nipples until she yelped in pleasure and ground against him, her inner muscles tightening around his throbbing cock.

His eyes nearly crossing as she squeezed him, Angel lifted her off him and flung her onto her back beside him. Rolling onto her, Angel slammed into her. Willow's legs wrapped around his waist, rubbing against the supple leather and his cold flesh, and she thrashed her head on the pillow as his cock churned in her.

As he hit a sensitive spot deep inside her, Willow nearly leapt off the bed, her arms wrapping around his neck and her legs tightening. "Oh shit," she hissed, panting as she ground against him, her clit on fire with need.

The bedsprings began to squeak and the headboard clanged against the wall as Angel thrust faster. Their naked flesh slapped together as they moved.

Groaning, Angel lowered his head and sucked one breast into his mouth, laving the nipple with his tongue.

Willow yelled and arched against him, sweat pouring from her hungry body as the pleasure flew out of control. "Harder, faster, fuck me, you bastard, fuck me." Her nails dug into his back, drawing blood.

At the scent of his own blood, Angel growled and drew out of her again, this time flipping her onto her stomach. "Get onto your hands and knees, bitch," he ordered harshly.

Shaking from unfulfilled lust, Willow scrambled to obey, spreading her legs wide and squeezing her eyes tightly shut as her mind again tried to intrude.

Grabbing her hips, digging his fingers into her soft flesh, Angel thrust hard, burying himself to the hilt. She cried out again and bucked against him.

"Please," she begged, near tears from need. Her fingers clutched spasmodically at the pillow beneath her head as he slammed into her, sending her forward until she banged into the headboard. Moaning in pain, Willow grabbed the bars and thrust backwards.

The bed nearly rocked as they pounded together. Angel was silent, his teeth clenched together. Willow panted harshly, whimpering and moaning as she began to grow sore from his hard use of her.

Suddenly one of his hands delved between her legs into the soaking curls to finger her clit.

"Oh God," she groaned, her body bucking wildly.

Growling fiercely, Angel pulled his hand free and grabbed her hair, yanking her head up. "There's no god here, bitch. No god! You're letting a demon fuck you."

"I'm sorry," Willow pled, wincing at the pain in her scalp.

He flung her head down as he released her and grabbed her hip again, his hand sliding over her slick flesh. Yanking her back against his pelvis, Angel ground into her and howled in lust. Bucking hard, he came, shooting his cold semen into her burning passage. With a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out and collapsed beside her.

Willow toppled onto her side, her breasts heaving as she panted harshly, her body shaking from lack of release.

"Damn, you're a good fuck, girl." Propping himself up on his elbow, Angel grinned lasciviously down at her trembling body. "Wanna come?"

"Damn you," Willow hissed, nearly exhausted, yet craving his touch.

Rolling her onto her back, Angel slid down her slippery body, spreading her legs with his hands. Lowering his head, he inhaled her hot, musky scent, then buried his mouth in her pussy.

"Angelus," Willow screamed as his tongue circled her sore clit. Her hips arched, pressing his face into her wet crevice, and she came, screaming again as pleasure exploded in her, leaving her shaking and throbbing and exhausted.

Grinning, Angel licked her clean for a few seconds, then raised his head and looked over his shoulder. "Well, hello roller boy."

Willow's eyes flew open and she gasped, struggling to make her limp body move. Lifting her head, she saw Spike sitting in his wheelchair in the doorway, looking at them, no expression on his face.

"You're making enough noise to wake the dead...literally," Spike quipped in a hard voice.

"Jealous?" Angel replied, smirking as he rose from the bed and refastened his pants.

Spike's eyes narrowed, but he shook his head. "Me? When Dru's draped across our bed, limp from pleasure?" Angel's smile disappeared and he growled softly. "I just wanted you to shut up so she could sleep...for a bit. I figured you were with the Slayer..."

His eyes went past Angel and found Willow. She had managed to sit up and was trying to wrap herself in a corner of the sheet, her face bright red from humiliation, her eyes full of tears of sorrow.

"I've seen it, girl," Spike snapped. "No need to cover yourself on my account." Spinning his chair around, he wheeled out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Well, that was rather rude," Angel commented, scratching his chest negligently.

Swallowing convulsively as the horror of what she had just done and with whom finally permeated her lust-addled brain, Willow flung herself from the bed and grabbed up her scattered clothes, jerking them on.

"Oh God, what have I done?" she mumbled under her breath, over and over. "I've gone insane."

"Going somewhere babe?" Angel asked casually.

Willow's eyes snapped up to his as she buttoned her shirt wrong. "As far away from you as I can get," she panted and jammed her feet into her shoes.

As she fled out the door, Angel waved cheerfully. "Come again anytime, and I do mean 'come'."

Running down the stairs at full tilt, Willow came to a skidding halt at finding Spike blocking the front door with his wheelchair.

He gave her such a look of disgust and dismay and betrayal, that tears flooded her eyes again. "If you wanted to hurt me, Willow, you couldn't have chosen a better way," he said quietly, the hurt and anger echoing in his voice. "Fucking the man I hate most in the world...Did you enjoy your revenge?"

As he spoke, he turned the wheelchair and began to roll down the hallway.

Tears flowing freely down her cheeks, Willow watched him go, her heart breaking from the pain and loss. "Spike," she whispered. "I didn't mean...I didn't plan...It wasn't...revenge."

If he heard her, he didn't react, just kept moving away from her. Slowly, exhausted, sore and wanting to crumple into a sobbing heap, Willow turned and opened the door, walking into the night, a part of her wondering if maybe it HAD been a way of getting even, of making him hurt, even if he never knew.

But, she'd done it all wrong. Where Spike made love with the woman he'd loved for a century, Willow let a demon she hated fuck her.

There was no comparison.

A dish best served cold...Her revenge had turned her to ice and she knew she would never be warm again.

End