punch_kicker15

Willow lifted up her pink smiley-face sweater. “This is a definite no.”

“Sounds right,” Oz said. He used to like the sweater, but she’d worn it on the day her vampire double showed up. Her vampire double had, too. It still reeked of death to him.

Willow tossed the sweater into the Not-Bringing-to-College pile on the bed. She reached into her closet, and pulled out a maroon long-sleeved top and a black leather miniskirt. “Oh, hey, my old Halloween costume.”

“I remember that,” he blurted out, before he realized how odd that would sound to her.

She looked at him with a quizzical expression on her face. “You do? We hadn’t even met then.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you,” he replied. “Notice” was a bit of an understatement. He’d already been intrigued by her in her Eskimo costume, and the more revealing Halloween outfit seemed like a fantasy come to life.

“Really?” Willow seemed flabbergasted by this. “I thought it was nerd solidarity that brought us together.”

She couldn’t believe that anyone would notice her for her looks. His heart hurt a little at that revelation. She was beautiful to him; he thought she knew that. But that was the problem with being an emotional iceberg: it meant ninety percent of what he felt was below the surface, invisible. He should say something.

“You haunted my dreams in that costume,” he said. He held her gaze. He wanted to make sure she knew he meant this. “For weeks. It was driving me crazy.”

She smiled, a genuine broad smile that lit up her face. “Aww, not too crazy, I hope.” Then she got a slightly calculating look in her eye. “I know you have a gig tonight, but do you think you could come back tomorrow night? My parents will be in Duluth.”

“Sure,” he said, feeling a little flutter of anticipation in his chest. “I’ll come by after band practice.”

***

The next day, when Oz came to the door, he heard Willow say, “Oz, come on up to my room. There’s something I want to show you. Door’s unlocked.” There was an odd vibration underneath her voice. Maybe she’d amplified it through magic.

He walked up to her room with some trepidation. Sunnydale had taught him to be wary of surprises.

He reached the bedroom, and his breath caught in his throat.

Willow was at the bedroom door, wearing the Halloween costume. Except for her hair—which was shorter now—every little detail was the same, even the makeup.

He’d seen her naked dozens of times by now, but somehow being barely-dressed made her seem even hotter. Naked Willow was open and honest and vulnerable. Half-dressed Willow was tantalizing—like she was holding something back from him.

She did a little spin to show off the outfit to full effect. “Like what you see?”

His cock twitched. “I like,” he murmured, pulling her in for a kiss. He breathed her in as his hand trailed over the bare skin of her back.  The leather and the makeup added some unfamiliar notes to her scent, making her smell exotic and new.

She kissed him hard and deep as she pressed her hips against him, fueling his arousal even further.

He pulled back from the kiss, spun her around so her back faced him. After a small gasp of surprise, she pushed back against him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her neck. Her soft moan encouraged him. He pressed his lips harder against her neck and slid his hands under the short shirt.

Oh, man, she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. Her nipples hardened at his touch, and she ground her hips against him.

His lips moved up her neck, to a spot right behind her ear. All at once, she cried out, shuddered, and wobbled from foot to foot as if she’d lost her balance.

He wrapped an arm around her waist again to steady her. “Did you just—“ he whispered, and then realized what the slight change in her scent meant.

“Uh-huh,” she panted.

After a moment to catch her breath, she said, “I didn’t know that I could, just from neck-kissage. That’s kind of nifty.”

He had a moment to smile at how utterly Willow her reaction was, and then, as if by their own volition, his hands were pulling her skirt up around her waist, and pulling her tights and underwear down. “Oh, god!” she whimpered.

He bent her over the bed, pulled his own clothes off, and pushed inside her. She was hot and wet and still throbbing from her orgasm. Part of him wanted to close his eyes, to just revel in touch. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her the sight of her, bent over the bed, legs spread out for him, still partly clothed. He gripped her hips tighter, slamming into her. “I wanted to do this when I first saw you,” he growled.

She went still for a moment, and then dug her fingers into the bedspread. She started pushing her hips back into him, as hard as she could from her position, and that was enough to make him come harder than he ever had before. It was the most intense sensation of release he’d ever had.

They collapsed on the bed together. She smiled at him, a look of uncomplicated satisfaction on her face. His eyes were drawn to her neck. He suddenly had a feeling he’d narrowly averted a catastrophe.

“What are you looking at? Did you give me a hickey?” She asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rough.”

She sat up and checked her neck in the mirror. “It’s fine. It’s a hickey, not a bite.”

“Gonna be a pretty nasty bruise, though.” Guilt was working its way through him. He couldn’t act like a normal human boyfriend. He had to be careful with her all the time.

She lay back on the bed, cuddling close to him. “Nothing happened, except you making me feel really good. Like really really good. I’m fine. Promise me you won’t keep beating yourself up about this.”

He moved closer and kissed her forehead, hoping she wouldn’t demand a verbal response.

He didn’t want to make a promise that he couldn’t keep.