Night School

When Willow gave herself over to Angelus’ ministrations, she felt weightless, as if a huge and intolerable burden she’d never even known she was carrying had been lifted from her shoulders. All her life she had tried to be good so that people would love her. But instead, the harder she tried, the more she was left alone; expected to shoulder responsibility not just for herself, but for everyone else. And in return for her efforts she got…nothing. Nothing but the most hollow pretenses of affection and esteem. Pretenses that even she could no longer force herself to believe in. And she had always believed this reality to be her fault. Because she was somehow deficient, not trying hard enough, or simply unworthy of love at all. But now, here was someone who cared, someone who offered affection and protection as a reward for compliance and surrender. And oh how she longed to give up the reins she had held since the time she was old enough to walk. Whatever price she had to pay for this nurturing and love, at least she would be getting something in return for it. So she lay still and calm and surrendered her body and her self to Angelus’ will.

Angelus allowed his eyes to linger on the supine form of the fragile redhead. She was so lovely, like a piece of exquisite porcelain with her slender limbs and her milk-white skin, its ivory perfection disrupted by a few faint, but adorable freckles. He frowned slightly when his eyes drifted between her legs and he noticed the evidence of his earlier rough treatment. The petals of her sex were red and inflamed and there was blood dried on the smooth skin of her inner thighs. He would have to be exceedingly gentle and limit his attentions to her if he was going to keep from inflicting further pain and scarring her fragile psyche beyond repair. He began to caress her breasts, teasing her nipples with feather-light strokes of his fingertips. “So lovely,” he crooned softly. “You are so lovely, my Willow.”

As he moved to lown own beside Willow, he scented the air. ‘Good,’ he thought to himself. ‘She’s not afraid anymore.’ He decided to go a bit further with his attentions to Willow’s body and moved to softly engulf one of her breasts with his mouth, careful to keep his movements slow and his touch soft. “Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I promise I’ll only give you pleasure.” And with that, Angelus slowly trailed kisses down Willow’s abdomen as he placed himself between her legs.

Willow relaxed and allowed Angelus’ caresses to arouse her body. Somewhere in her mind she wondered why that ‘pleasure’ wasn’t a source of greater enjoyment than it was. But she let the thought pass, content to simply bask in what did bring her pleasure: the fact that someone was attempting to cater to her needs for the first time in her life. If arousal wasn’t all she’d imagined it would be, well, she could live with that. And in time, perhaps, that would change. But for now, this was enough. At least the amount of arousal her body was experiencing would make Angelus happy, so he wouldn’t leave her and take his affection, his soft words, and his soothing actions away forever. And his touch this time was not a source of pain, after all. She could tell he was thinking only of her with each caress. She would revel in that and let it fill her, and show him how much she appreciated his generosity and his love.

Peppering her stomach and thighs with soft kisses, Angelus moved to position his head between Willow’s legs. He began to gently caress her raw, swollen folds with his tongue, reveling in the taste of the traces of her virgin’s blood that remained there. When he went to penetrate her with his tongue, however, he noticed her try, and fail, to keep from stiffening her body in pain. Poor thing, he thought, as he felt a rush of demonly pride at the effects of his rough taking of her earlier that night. He had marked her with his cock as surely as he had with his fangs and he couldn’t help the wave of arousal that surged through him at that realization. But his objective now was to please Willow. And augmenting her suffering was not on his agenda. So he denied himself the rest of her virginal nectar and instead sought out the pearl hidden within the petals of her sex. As he gently coaxed forth her clitoris and began to suckle on it gently, he was gratified by the scent of her arousal. It was different, to a degree, from what it had been when Angel had misinterpreted its cause months ago. But that was to be expected. And it was all the sweeter for being that way, since this scent was for him, and him alone. He happily filled his dead lungs with that scent as he brought Willow closer and closer to release, and closer and closer to being his completely.

When Angelus had responded to her involuntary stiffening at his touch by changing the nature of his attentions, Willow could have cried. No one had ever been so considerate of her before. She had been so frightened that her reaction to his probing tongue would anger him. Instead, he had stopped and shifted his attentions to her clitoris. She had spent her whole life with nobody caring if what they did pleased her or not. From birthday presents that took no account of her taste, size, or interests, to demands on her time made with no thought that she might have something else she’d rather be doing. Willow had lived for 16 years without being shown the most minimal degree of consideration. And now, here was someone who was not only trying to please her, but was paying attention enough to not whether he actually did; and who reacted when he didn’t, not by blaming her, but by changing the nature of his actions.

It was all too much to absorb, and Willow couldn’t help but let a few grateful tears fall from her eyes. It was true, what happened earlier that night had been her fault, the result of a horrible misunderstanding. She was just so grateful that he loved her enough to give her another chance. And she would do anything to make sure that she never made another mistake. So when the tightening of her sore, bruised channel signaling her oncoming orgasm brought her more pain than pleasure, Willow focused instead on the touch of Angelus’ hands on her thighs, on the way that he cared enough to do this for her to try to ease her pain, and on the memory of his honeyed voice crooning gentle words of comfort as he held her moments ago. And when the first orgasm she had ever experienced swept through her, surprisingly devoid of ecstasy, Willow managed to nonetheless bring forth a moan of pure sensual pleasure. It was the least she could do for the only creature who had ever loved her. And if it was like this forever, Willow would have no regrets and no complaints. Compared to the sacrifices she had made for nothing throughout her short, sad life, this was no sacrifice at all.

tbc...