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Master Class

Chapter Text

It started with the most innocuous of comments.

“Everything’s just been going too good, you know?” he heard Willow say to Buffy as they started gathering their books to return to class. “It’s like…I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and smack me across the butt, because real life is just so dependable with the cosmic irony that way.”

Wesley glanced up through his lashes, daring to look away from his translation for the briefest of moments. Both girls stood at the tables, glowing with that verve of youth Americans seemed to have a monopoly on. Willow’s cheeks were stained pink.

“You say it that way, and I start to think you want it to happen,” Buffy said with a smile. She wagged a warning finger at her friend. “Don’t make me pull out the list of Hellmouth no-no’s.”

Willow’s eyes went wide with faux innocence. “You mean, I shouldn’t say things like this?” She affected a breathy pant to her voice as she acted out the next. “Oh, please, spank me, you big bad life, you. I want to be punished. I need to be punished. I’ve been a bad, bad---.” It was cut off with a giggle when Buffy poked her in the side.

Wesley forced his attention back to his scroll, but the words turned to scribbles before his eyes. It was impossible to block out the sounds of the girls laughing and chatting as they walked out of the library, oblivious to his presence. He waited until after they were gone to discreetly adjust his cock from where it had grown hard against his thigh.

* * *

He was about to retire for the night when there came a knock at the front door of his flat. Wesley frowned, stopping in mid-step to stare at it in confusion. Nobody ever called on him at home except for salesmen, and it was too late an hour for this to be one of those. Picking up a cross from a nearby shelf, he approached the door warily, ready to brandish the weapon in the face of whatever might be on its other side.

Willow’s bright face smiled up at him, a book held close to her chest. “Hi,” she said. A long moment passed where he continued to gaze at her in disbelief. She began to fidget before looking pointedly at the cross he still had in his hand and then over his shoulder at his empty flat. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“What?” Flushing with embarrassment, Wesley tucked the cross awkwardly into his trousers pocket. It was unnerving to see one of the Slayer’s friends on his doorstep. They’d made their disdain for him perfectly clear in the short time he had been in Sunnydale. “Oh. No. I’m just…was just…” Clearing his throat, he stepped aside to allow room for her to enter. “Come in.”

She brushed past him, and he caught the faint scent of her shampoo. Coconut. He’d never noticed that detail before. “Giles said you needed this book, but then Principal Snyder showed up and started babbling about the library budget so Giles had to ask if one of us could bring it over instead.” Turning to look at him, the smile on her face was almost apologetic. “Cordelia wasn’t around to jump embarrassingly at the opportunity, so that left me and Oz.”

When Wesley glanced around, making a point of noting that it was only the pair of them in the lounge, Willow laughed and set down the book.

“He’s out in the van,” she explained. “Which is where I should get back to before he starts wondering what’s taking so long. We’re supposed to go see a movie tonight and if we miss the opening credits, he gets cranky.”

His brows shot up. “Somehow, I have difficulty imagining that.”

“Oh, yeah.” Willow began edging back to the door. “He goes from being monosyllabic to being non-syllabic. It’s really not pretty.” At the exit, she waggled her fingers as she returned to the dark shadows outside. “See you tomorrow.”

It seemed too soon to lose the new company, and Wesley followed after her onto his front step. “Thank you,” he said, though it was hardly adequate. When she gave no indication of returning, he resigned himself to the brief respite, grateful at least that it appeared the group was starting to accept him. “Extend my apologies to Oz for keeping you.”

“Oh, no big there. I’ll take my punishment with a smile.” She waved again. “Bye!”

He watched the night swallow her up, listening to the distant sounds of a car door opening and shutting. It wasn’t until after he heard the van drive away that Wesley realized he was hard as a rock.

* * *

He woke the next morning staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Shame turned his body into a living flame.

He’d dreamt of her. Willow. Bent over his knee, her bare bottom red and hot and twitching under his hand as he answered her pleas and gave her the spanking she so wanted. Every once in a while, his fingers slipped and probed at her pussy, then dragged her fluids back to her ass to slick the same entry there.

She came with his name on her lips and her juices dripping onto his thighs. When she sat up, she smiled and thanked Wesley for giving her exactly what she deserved.

What made the entire dream worse was that he had enjoyed it.

He had the come stain on his boxers to prove it.

* * *

“What on earth is wrong with you?” Giles demanded. Wesley was startled from where he’d been working on the same translation as the day previous, dropping his pencil to watch helplessly while it rolled to the floor. “You haven’t heard a single word I’ve said. Are you even listening to me?”

Simultaneously, Buffy and Willow lifted their heads from their books, eyes fixed on the two Watchers. Synchronized staring. Wonderful. Wesley had to turn in his seat in order not to see the soft expanse of skin at the open neck of Willow’s blouse.

“I believe I’m attempting to finish this translation that you so conveniently managed to fob off on me,” he said with as much coldness as he could muster. “After all, one of us should be doing his job around here.”

Giles’ mouth thinned. “If memory serves, my job is that of librarian. As you so frequently remind me, you are the only one actually employed by the Council now.”

Behind him, Wesley heard Buffy snicker. “I love these Watcher smackdowns,” she said. “We really need to start stocking popcorn in here for them.”

Stiffly, Wesley sat up as straight as he could manage. The truth was, he hadn’t even been paying due attention to the scroll. Memories of his dream of Willow had come flooding back the moment she had bounced into the library, and he had spent the past fifteen minutes trying to will away the erection that seemed to be omnipresent whenever she was near. It was the reason he now couldn’t rise to his feet and face Giles eye-to-eye.

“Then I suggest you forego trying to distract me from my work and get on with yours,” he said.

Giles stared at him for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “You’re such a prat,” he muttered, turning on his heel. “Come, Buffy. We’ll look over those documents from the Mayor’s office at my desk.”

Panic rose in Wesley’s throat as Buffy did as she was told, leaving him alone with Willow. When he glanced over at her, it was in time to see her shifting sideways in order to reach for his pencil that had rolled beneath the table. Her new position drew his eyes automatically to the flow of her skirt over her bottom, and he was startled away from the mental images flooding through his mind when she straightened with his pencil in her hand.

“Those crazy kids,” she said, handing over the pencil with a small smile. “But whatcha gonna do?”

His arousal left only one possible answer.

Shag you senseless.

* * *

The dreams grew worse.

Well.

Worse was probably not the most accurate word since Wesley woke up from each with his body humming and his underwear soaked in semen.

Frequent was better.

Intense.

Vivid.

And always about Willow.

He began doing everything in his power to avoid running into her at the high school. Unfortunately, that also meant avoiding Buffy, which countermanded the entire purpose for his presence. Wesley could find no other solution, however. Just seeing a woman with red hair any more was enough to get him hard. Images of that hair splayed over a porcelain back while a bare ass glowed from the heat of his hand always sprang immediately to mind. He took to staying in his flat in order to get anything accomplished.

Cordelia showed up at his door a week after his first dream.

“Hi,” she said with her Miss America smile firmly in place. He wondered why he had never noticed before just how phony it seemed. “A little birdy tells me you’re playing hard to get.”

He visibly started. “Pardon?”

Her smile faded slightly. “Giles? Said you were hiding away.” She rolled her eyes. “Those buffoons think they’ve intimidated you into backing off of Buffy. Like that could happen. Buffy really needs to get over herself. That whole Chosen thing? So last year.”

Though it was reassuring to have someone on his side, he found her condescending attitude a trifle annoying. There was no question as to why. He could never conceive Cordelia submitting to such a passive role in his fantasy, even if he could get her to wear a red wig.

“Yes, well, Giles is mistaken,” Wesley said, pulling himself straighter. “I appreciate your concern, Cordelia, but I’ve merely been busy. I found the library too…distracting to best concentrate on this translation.”

She tried to commiserate, whining about the social ineptitude of her ex-friends, but he brushed her off with polite aloofness until she finally gave up and walked away. It was an odd relief. Though he knew it would only be a matter of time before his excuses would stop satisfying the Council, Wesley hoped that this newfound obsession with Willow would abate before that particular hourglass ran out.

* * *

Wesley had never been lucky.

When the knock came at his door the next night, he rose from his desk with a sigh, prepared to fend Cordelia off yet again. His knuckles went white on the doorknob when he was greeted with Willow’s perky smile instead.

“Hi,” she said, waggling her fingers at him. “Long time, no see.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly unable to breathe properly. “Yes, well, I’ve been…busy.”

She leaned to the side, looking at the empty flat behind him just as she had the first time she’d visited. When her gaze returned to his face, her brows were lifted in silent questioning.

“A translation,” Wesley elaborated.

“The same one you were working on last week?”

He flushed with embarrassment. “…Yes.”

Willow took advantage of his distraction and slipped inside the flat, heading straight to the scroll on his desk. “Need some help? Sometimes all it takes is a fresh set of eyes, and I can be as fresh as the next girl.”

Her words made his mouth unexpectedly water. Slowly, Wesley closed the door, watching as she slipped her coat off and draped it over the nearby couch. “No offense,” he said, careful with each word, “but what exactly are you doing here?” He paused. “Did Giles send you?”

“No. Well. Kind of.” She sat down in his chair, keeping her attention on the scroll as she spoke. “He was a little surprised you wouldn’t even let Cordy inside, because you didn’t seem to have any issue with me dropping off that book last week.”

“So he sent you instead.”

“No, I volunteered when Buffy started making noises that she might stop by and drag you back to the library by force.” Her nose wrinkled. “I know you two don’t get along, but still, that’s just a little too…too, even for you two.” She paused. “Too.”

He almost wished she would look at him. All he could see was her hair falling over her shoulders, and the coincidence with his fantasies was too close for comfort.

“I don’t understand why Giles is in such a dither about my return to the library,” he said instead. “He’s made it perfectly clear that he finds my presence bothersome.”

Picking up his pencil, Willow scratched out something he had written down on his notepad and wrote something else in its place. “The stuff with the Mayor is starting to get a little heavy,” she explained. “Giles wants all the able bodies he can find for what he thinks is coming up, and your body is as able as the rest of ours. Abler maybe, because you’ve had actual training.” She swiveled and gazed at him directly for the first time since entering. “Did you really not see this was subjunctive?”

It took a moment to realize she was referring to his translation. With a frown, Wesley crossed to the desk, looking over what she’d written. “You’re right,” he said. “That changes things completely.”

“I can stay and help you with this,” Willow offered. “If this is what’s keeping you away from the high school.”

Perhaps it was the innocent expectation in her eyes that made him pause. All Wesley was aware of was agreeing with her before he could think to do otherwise.

* * *

Around three in the morning, she rose from where she’d been sitting on the couch and stretched. The arch of her back thrust out her small breasts, and Wesley hurriedly looked away before she caught him staring, doing his best to ignore the erection that had plagued him since her arrival.

“I think I need to take a little break,” she said, heading straight for the kitchen. He’d already offered her free rein of his flat and listened to her now opening up the refrigerator to go rooting around for something to drink. “How’s your part coming?”

He winced at her unfortunate choice of words. This was absolutely the worst idea he’d ever had; it was time for him to send her away. “I believe I’m done,” Wesley lied. “You can probably go home now.”

She came back in with a can of Coke in her hand. It was her fourth of the night; he was surprised the caffeine wasn’t affecting her that strongly yet. “I still have the last third to do of mine.”

“I’ll finish it. Thank you for your help. It’s been quite…helpful.”

She didn’t move. Her eyes kept flitting between him and the doorway until, finally, he felt he had to say something.

Unfortunately, Willow chose that moment as well.

“Look, I’m---.”

“Did we---?”

Both stopped short. They waited a moment, and then Wesley said with a small nod of his head, “You first.”

Though she seemed unsure, she blurted, “Did we do something to drive you away? Because Cordy said something about you being distracted, but you and I are working fine here. Great, even. I mean, I know Giles and Buffy have been giving you a hard time, but it’s not always them in the library---well, Giles is always there since it’s his job, and I suppose that means Buffy’s there a lot, too, because of the whole slaying thing, so maybe that’s not the best reason, but it’s got to be something because the translation is hard but not that hard---.”

“Willow. Stop.” Her mouth snapped shut in mid-babble. He sighed. There appeared to be no escape to this, though every instinct in him was screaming to get her out of there. “Cordelia was right. I find it very difficult to concentrate when I’m at the high school. This way is better. Trust me.”

She took a step closer. “Is it something we can fix? Maybe if we knew what the problem was---.”

“Damn it, Willow, you can’t solve everything!” Her persistence had frayed his last nerve, and Wesley shot to his feet, suddenly tired of the whole situation. “Accept the fact that I can’t work there, and move on. Because, while I’d love nothing more than to get you out of my head, I can’t do it with you sitting just a few feet away from me.”

Realization about what he said dawned on them at the same time. Wes took a step away from her, the back of his legs hitting the desk, and watched her eyes grow wide, her mouth form a tiny o that immediately brought to mind images of it wrapped around his thrusting cock.

I am thoroughly evil and going straight to hell.

“You…me…I…” Her voice failed her. Nothing was more startling than seeing Willow Rosenberg at a loss for words.

Anger made him draw up straight. “Is it such a ridiculous notion?” he demanded. “You’re a lovely young girl, and I’m a healthy, albeit slightly older, man. It’s a perfectly natural reaction to entertain fantasies about such a thing.”

He didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to grow even bigger, but they did. “Fantasies?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.

“Yes, fantasies,” he repeated. “You’ve had sexual education in school. I’m certain they taught you that sexual fantasies---.”

“Sexual?”

Oh. Dear. Perhaps she hadn’t understood the full extent of his meaning, after all.

He tried to backpedal. “They’re nothing, really,” he said, skirting the edge of the couch so that it stood between them. “And I’m sure they’ll disappear in due time. In fact, I doubt they would’ve arisen at all if you hadn’t made that comment about spanking the other---.”

Spanking?!?”

He was certain he’d just crossed the line into potential felony charges. If he wished to get out of this with more than his dignity intact, she had to leave now.

“Go. Please.” His voice took on the wheedling tone he’d hated so much when he was at school, the one where he’d begged the headmaster not to report infractions to his father. It hadn’t worked then, either.

“Let me get this straight.” Her eyes had grown contemplative as she set down her soda and approached the couch. “You’ve been avoiding Buffy and all the rest of us, because seeing me makes you want to...what? Bend me over your knee, lift up a tiny Catholic schoolgirl skirt I just happen to be wearing even though I don’t actually go to Catholic school because hello, Jewish here, and paddle my ass for being a very bad girl?”

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut, though it did nothing to block out the images she’d just evoked. “Yes, except…I’ve usually removed the skirt from you by that point,” he said in a small voice.

He held his breath while he waited for the slam of the front door to come. It never did.

When he finally dared to peek again, he saw Willow standing rooted in her spot, completely unmoving. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her breathing had quickened enough to make the rise and fall of her chest much more noticeable. With flushed cheeks, she stared at him, looking for all intents and purposes like she was waiting for him to speak.

“You’re still here,” he said. “Why are you still here?”

Her tongue darted out, licking lips he doubted very much were dry. “I didn’t think…ever since, Oz and I got back together, he’s been…polite. He kisses me, but some of the…touching he used to do isn’t there any more.”

He sincerely did not need to hear about her relationship with her boyfriend and told her so in no uncertain words.

“No, it’s not that,” Willow went on. “It’s just…I’ve wondered, you know? If it was me. I mean, I know he’s still upset about what happened with Xander, and I’m lucky he’s even giving me another chance, but…it’s different now. And I couldn’t help but start to think that maybe I was the one who was different now. That I wasn’t really…desirable like this.”

The uncertainty in her voice made his heart constrict. “Heavens no,” Wesley said, taking a step forward. “You’re very desirable, Willow. The sheer fact that I can’t get through a single night without dreaming of you is proof of that.”

For a moment, her gaze flickered to his hips, and he knew she could see the clear outline of his erection against his trousers. It was too late to try and hide it, however, so Wesley simply waited to see what she would say next.

“I should probably go,” she said haltingly. Her step was just as hesitant, a start and stop as her attention kept drifting back to him. “I hope this helped you. Talking about it. It was…”

But she didn’t finish the sentence. Again, words abandoned her as she stood in the open doorway.

“Thank you for your help with the translation,” he said. He meant it; if nothing else, work had been accomplished tonight, even if it wasn’t by his own hand.

Willow smiled, seemingly grateful for the change of subject. “Any time,” she said automatically, and then stiffened when she realized the implications of her offer. “Bye,” she added with a rush.

She was gone before he could reply.

* * *

In his dreams that night, Willow never took off the little skirt.