Fic info.
Imaginary Grace
Willow settled back against the passenger’s seat of the car, casting a quick glance in Doyle’s direction. He caught her, giving her a grin in return. “I don’t know why I’m smilin’,” he admitted. “I mean, I’m taking you home. To Sunnydale. Which is sort of off limits where the Angel crew is concerned.”

“You could come alone,” she reminded him.

“Yah. And have a screamin’ vision while I visit?” He reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling it on top of his thigh. “I’m the life of the party, Doll.”

Sighing softly, Willow nodded and closed her eyes. “I suppose you’re right. Now we’re moving into the realm of Buffy and Angel. Love without angst? What’s that?”

Doyle looked over at her quickly. “Love?”

Willow bit her lips and smiled. Opening one eye, she met Doyle’s gaze. “You think you’re the only one here? I mean, I don’t normally offer to watch those kinds of films with just anyone.”

“You’ll not be watchin’ porn!” Doyle squeezed her hand, smiling at the memory of her offer and his refusal. “And I can’t believe for the life of me that I’m bein’ a gentleman about this.”

“Neither can I.” Willow pulled her hand away and giggled, watching his face darken as he glared at her.

“It’s not nice to insult a man when he’s bein’ nice.”

“I just thought it wasn’t nice to insult his manhood.”

“You’ve no idea about me manhood…”

“Yes I do,” Willow nodded, her green eyes dancing. “Dennis was nice enough to send you sprawling…remember?”

“I didn’t touch ya!”

Willow sighed sadly, “No. No you didn’t.” Her pout turned into a full-fledged grin. “But when you got…er, up, I sneaked a peek.”

“You’re a cheeky little witch.” He reached out to catch a lock of her hair, which he played with for a few moments, his eyes watching the road with intense concentration. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I could come down to LA.”

He shrugged, hating the inevitable sinking feeling. Pulling the car over to the side of the road, he stopped it and turned to face her. “Willow…”

She unhooked her seatbelt and faced him as well. “Yes?”

“You know this is impossible, don’t ya? Us? I mean, I’m almost a good 10 years older than you, I’m divorced, I’m half-demon, I’m…”

“I’m in love with you Allen Francis Doyle.” Willow’s resolve face was the stuff of legend and Doyle recognized it immediately. “My parents have been pestering me to accept the car they want to give me so that I can have the freedom every young woman needs so that she doesn’t have to become dependent on the oppressive male society.”

“And that’s a good thing for me?”

“Well, I was thinking I could use it from time to time to come down to LA and be…oppressed by you.”

A smile quirked the corner of his lips as he reached out to touch the smooth curve of her cheek before trailing his thumb along her jaw line. “When I made that promise, the blood debt, I thought I was safe. I never thought I’d find someone that I loved. I mean, I was in love once and who has the right to expect anythin’ more than that?”

“I don’t know if we have the right,” she admitted, ducking her head so that she captured his thumb between her teeth. Kissing it softly, she released it, letting his hand fall down to her leg. “But it’s happened…”

“Willow…” he moaned her name and moved his hand again, this time wrapping it around the back of her neck, bringing her in to kiss him.

His lips were a glorious combination of hard and gentle, demanding and giving. Willow opened her mouth eagerly, accepting the warm taste of his tongue as it slipped inside, running along the walls of her mouth, tickling and teasing, tasting and tormenting.

After a breathless time, Doyle pulled away, panting hard. His blue eyes were burning into her green ones, need sharp in them. “Sunnydale is a long way off.”

Willow nodded, not caring that they were a half-hour outside of town. “It is.”

“We should stop, rest over night so that we don’t get tired and fall asleep on the side of the road.”

She reached out and touched his lips with trembling fingers, wondering at the heat that filled her. “Please?”

Doyle closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. Pulling away from her touch, he turned back to the steering wheel and blinked hard to focus his concentration. As soon as he heard the click of her seatbelt, he pulled back onto the road, searching for the nearest hotel sign.

**
Willow bit her lip as she stepped into the darkened room, her hand reaching along the wall, feeling for the light switch. She had just found it when two strong arms slipped around her waist. Doyle’s lips brushed across the hollow beneath her ear. “Don’t.”

“D…don’t?” she breathed.

“No. I want this to be perfect, soft and romantic.” She could feel his grin as he kissed where his words had touched her. “And I’m scared to death that, if you see me in the light, you’re bound to wonder what the hell you’re doin’ in my arms.”

She shook her head and turned in his embrace. “Doyle, I could be making love to you in the sun and I wouldn’t wonder at all.”

“There ya go with the magic again,” he brushed a kiss across her slightly parted lips. “Weavin’ a spell all around me.”

She met his eyes in the darkness, touching his forehead with a gentle hand. “Around us both.”

“Will you let me love you, Willow?”

She nodded, breathless. “In the dark or the daylight, Allen Francis Doyle.”

“What about candlelight?”

She grinned. “I can do that too.”

**
How he’d managed to procure candles from the front desk, Willow didn’t ask. She didn’t care. All that mattered was, after sitting her down in the chair across from the bed, he’d set up a vast array of them, in various stages of life, and lit them all.

The room now sparkled like a gem, glowing softly in their light. Casting a nervous smile, which she decided was actually fairly sexy, in her direction, he turned on the radio.

“I doubt there’s any Irish drinking song playing, so I’ll settle for something a bit softer, no?” He found a classical station and stopped the dial. Shrugging off his leather jacket, he set it on the foot of the bed. “It’s not exactly dance material…”

Willow stood smoothly and moved toward him. Her eyes were intent on his, glowing with warmth and desire. “Any excuse to be in your arms.”

“You don’t need excuses, Doll.” He wrapped her up in his embrace, barely moving to the music as they lost themselves in the simple touch. “Hell,” he whispered. “You don’t even need an invitation. Any time you want to be here…”

She looked up at him, smiling. One of her hands rested lightly on his chest; the other reached up to touch his lips. “Francis?”

“Ye…yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

The softly whispered plea caught his heart and he nodded briefly before bending his head. His lips found her eager ones, plying them with teasing kisses, deliberately giving her no satisfaction. She growled quietly, her hand winding through his hair, holding him still above her.

“Don’t tease me. Kiss me.”

“Show me how,” he licked her lips, barely touching the swollen pinkness with his tongue.

Willow moaned and brought his head down to her, her mouth opening, her tongue seeking entrance between his lips. Doyle’s arms constricted around her waist, pulling her against him as he gave her free reign of his mouth, letting her explore the dark cavern with the same quiet intensity she seemed to bring to everything she did.

Shivers of desire worked their way through Willow as Doyle pulled her against him, letting her feel, through their layers of clothes, how much he wanted her. Music washed around them as she took a step forward, throwing him off balance.

They tumbled to the bed, a flurry of arms and legs and kisses, laughter bubbling up between them, drawing them closer, rather than farther apart. Willow propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. A playful smile danced across her face. “Whoops.”

“Was that what you intended to happen?”

She shrugged at his skepticism. “I got you onto the bed, didn’t I?”

“You always this forward?”

This time she laughed. “As the reigning champion of being forward, you should know.”

His smile softened and he brushed her hair away from her face. “I was actually hopin’ to have you undressed before we got here. It makes the next bit a hell of a lot easier.”

“Well, I really didn’t do it deliberately…”

“Now, I’m just gonna have to improvise.”

“Oh.” She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds…nice.”

He nodded, running his fingers over her side, his thumb sweeping over the curve of her breast. “Can be.” When she shivered, he leaned in, kissing her softly. “I promise not to hurt you.”

“Doyle…”

He shook his head and guided her back onto the bed. Making sure she was comfortable, he got off the bed and stood at the end of it, staring down at the pretty mess she was. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, looking like small flames dancing about her face. Her sweater was lifted slightly, showing just a glimpse of creamy pale skin. Her jeans fit her nicely, conforming to her slim figure.

He grabbed her foot and held it against his stomach, untying her red tennis shoe. “You couldn’t have worn a skirt or somethin’?” He winked as he said it, wondering if she could see it in the shadows of the candlelight.

“It means more if you have to work for it.”

“You don’t think slayin’ a demon’s work enough?” He dropped the shoe and sock to the floor then lifted the other leg. Holding her this way, both legs off the floor, sent her sweater a little further up her stomach.

“Since you were nice enough to get me in the position of being the sacrifice? Uhm…no.”

He grinned, his conscience eased by her soothing tone. He removed the other shoe and sock then guided her feet back down so that they dangled over the side of the bed. Kneeling on one knee between her legs, he smoothed his hands up her denim-clad thighs before finding the fastener of her jeans. “Well, this is work I think I can handle.”

The button and zipper were taken care of with no problems and he hooked two fingers under each side of the top of the jeans. His eyes sought hers and found nothing but hunger, longing and love there.

“Lift up,” he breathed, unbelieving that this beautiful woman, knowing everything that he was, still loved him. She did as he asked, without question, lifting her hips off the bed so that he could slide her jeans off of her. His breath caught at the sight of her long legs, free of any covering, glowing golden in the light. “Saints above, you’re beautiful.”

She felt the rush of self-conscienceness start to flood through her, but Doyle’s amazed tone pushed any embarrassment away. He was staring down at her, at her legs and her stomach, the pale pink lace panties, in wonder, as if he’d never seen anything like her. “Thank you.”

He nodded, not looking away from her. “I’ve not even imagined…” he broke off, shaking his head. The temptation to lay over her, cover her, be inside her was overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of her. He held out his hand, offering it to her. “Sit up?”

This time it was a question and Willow needed no time to answer it. She took his hand and let him help her sit up. His hands down her arms until he felt the bottom to the soft material of her sweater. Coaxing her hands into the air, he eased it off of her.

His heart felt as if it might explode as the rest of her exquisite body was revealed to him. Her breasts were small, beautifully enhanced by the matching pink bra. He could see the sharp outline of her nipples, hard with anticipation, beneath the cloth, but couldn’t focus on them. Not yet.

Doyle moved off the bed, taking a step back so that he could take all of her in. She was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. Willow tilted her head, watching his eyes. Reaching behind her, she found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, letting the material fall down her arms to the floor.

He gasped softly, inhaling air as he stared at her, enraptured by the sight he’d only dreamed of before. “I’m going to have to stop calling those damn messages from the Powers That Be visions.”

“Why’s that?” She asked soft, getting off the bed to stand in front of him.

“Because you, my darling, are a vision.”

The soft flush invaded her skin, and she seemed to glow in the hazy light of the candles. She bit her lower lip and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. He watched, enraptured, as she slid them down her legs, stepping out of them when they reached the floor. “Doyle?”

“Yah?” He took a step closer, as if caught in some sort of force. His fingers found the buttons of his shirt and he began undoing them, moving closer to her as every one came free. When he reached her, Willow pressed her hands to the center of his chest and parted the material, her fingers grazing over his warm skin.

His hands trembled as they moved to her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles on her body as she ran her finger through the rough hair that covered him. His body swayed slightly as she found his nipples, her fingertips dancing over them ever so lightly.

“Bloody hell, girl. You’re killin’ me.”

“You’ll die happy,” she said with a giggle, scraping her fingertips over the hardened tips before moving her hands up to his shoulders and pushing the shirt off him completely. Moving down his arms, guiding the shirt to the floor, she reached the smooth leather of his belt.

Swallowing hard, Willow let her eyes trail down his chest, her heart hammering in her chest as she memorized the smooth skin beneath the dark covering of hair, forming a dark triangle disappearing into his jeans.

Her hands were shaking, trembling with excitement and nervousness, as she tugged the strap of leather from his belt loops. His whole body was vibrating with need, waiting for her touch. She unfastened the belt and brushed it aside, her fingers meeting the metal of the first button as her eyes met his.

Closing his eyes, Doyle leaned down and kissed her, his lips moving softly over hers. She opened her mouth, tasting his kiss as she tugged the buttons from their homes, opening his fly. Her hands slipped underneath the material and she found his heated skin. Doyle groaned into her mouth as she worked his jeans and boxers over his hips, carefully guiding them over his aching erection, letting them join their other clothes on the cluttered floor.

Naked, they stood in facing each other, their eyes caught in a heated gaze. Doyle raised his hand, stroking her hair back from her face. He wanted to speak, tell her all the things that seemed to fill his chest as he stared at her, but the words wouldn’t come, getting in the way of the intense emotions he was feeling.

Letting his hand run through the fiery strands of hair, he found her shoulder and smoothed his hand over the soft curve. He touched her shoulders, caressing them with shaking hands, moving down to her arms and her hands, finding her waist without looking away.

Willow was having trouble breathing, his look seemed to take her will away from her, leave her helpless in his sights as he held her eyes. He grasped her hips and lifted her, forcing a gasp of surprise as he raised her up into the air.

Doyle wondered briefly when he had died as Willow’s small, full breasts came into view, the dark nipples etched in high relief. Changing his grip slightly, he stopped lifting and pulled her closer, his tongue wrapping around the hard peak, followed by the damp heat of his mouth.

Willow cried out, her nails digging into Doyle’s shoulders as she struggled for control and balance. He walked forward with her, his mouth not stopping in the soft suckling of her skin. She felt the back of her legs hit the mattress and, bending her knees, let him slide her onto the bed.

The only sound in the room was his breath as he pulled away from her, inhaling deeply. In sharp contrast to the silence, the myriad of smells assaulted him, making his heart pound. Willow moved backward on her knees until she was halfway down the bed, then she lay down before him.

Her eyes took him in as the candlelight moved over his skin. His chest was covered with dark hair; his skin pale and smooth as it tapered down from his chest to his hips. His thighs were sprinkled with the same darkness as his chest. She licked her lips as she stared at him, finally looking at his entire body, not letting her eyes shy away from him.

Doyle could feel her eyes when they touched him, could feel the blood rushing south as if it needed to impress her. He grinned just a bit at that thought then looked up to meet her gaze. A smile played at her lips and she dropped her gaze to his waist. “And I just might die a very happy woman.”

He chuckled as he moved onto the bed, making his way easily between her thighs. He lay there, his legs against hers but his lower body not touching her. Bracing himself on his arms, he looked down. “Remind me to thank Dennis when I get back to LA.”

“Doyle?”

His grin told her that she didn’t need to finish the rest of the sentence. His head moved down and he caught her lips with his own, parting them with his tongue as he moved higher on her body, the tip of his erection brushing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

She gasped into his mouth, and he pressed the advantage, deepening the kiss. One hand snaked between them and he found the hard button of her clit with gently eager fingers. Her hips bucked up against him and he pulled back from the kiss in order to find air.

His whole body was rocking with hers, aching to find its way inside her. Her hips moved in rhythm with his hand, teasing the nub with his thumb as a finger slowly caressed the swollen flesh. “Tell me?” he begged quietly as he pulled away, his hand still moving.

She watched him as he leaned back on his knees, resting on his heels, staring down at her. His free hand grabbed his jacket from the end of the bed, digging through the pockets as quickly as he could.

Willow arched up into his touch, her breasts rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for breath. “I…I love you…”

He pulled his hand away, ignoring her cry of protest and fumbled with the packet in his hand. Finally managing to open it, he slid the condom on and moved quickly back between her thighs. “Would that be considered a confession given under duress?”

Her hand found him, guiding him to the warm opening shrouded by soft auburn curls. “Doyle…”

He groaned at her heat as he pressed forward, slipping inside her wet passage easily, whispering her name as he felt her body tighten around his. “Oh Gods, Willow…” He thrust his hips, moving in as deeply as he could, burying himself in the sight and smell and feel of her.

Willow wrapped her legs around his, pulling him closer. She whimpered as he moved within her, wanting him deeper, wanting more. Raising himself up on his arms, Doyle glanced down at her. Her hair was even messier than before as she shook her head from side to side, her body moving in counterpoint, thrusting up against him.

Closing his eyes, taking the sight of her – eyes closed, hair mussed, lower lip caught between her teeth – into his mind, he began moving more rapidly; long smooth strokes that filled her completely before he pulled back, almost separating from her.

She tightened her grip with her legs and he changed his rhythm, shorter strokes at the same speed, never coming close to leaving the warm haven of her thighs. Her hands rested on the curve of his ass, pressing against him with each downward stroke.

Again his thrust changed, slower, harder and deeper. Willow released her lip; licking the marks her teeth had left and raised her head, finding one of his nipples with her eager mouth.

Doyle cried out and thrust hard, grinding his hips against hers as she took him over the edge, her teeth and lips prolonging the sweet torture of his orgasm. Willow bucked up against him and he nodded, slipping his hand between them once again to find her clit.

It was slick and slippery and he ached to move his mouth down to lick it clean. But, not wanting to leave her molten center, he captured it between thumb and forefinger and rolled it gently, still thrusting as he continued to lose himself in her embrace.

Willow caught her breath repeatedly; unable to take in enough air, as Doyle’s hand expertly guided her over the edge. She could feel her muscles clenching around his throbbing arousal as she bathed him in her own warm rush. Her heels dug into the back of his legs as she arched upward, his fingers still working between her thighs until she cried out, begging him to stop.

They collapsed together, Doyle careful not to rest his weight too heavily on her. After a long moment, Willow opened her eyes and looked over at him. The dark blue seemed even more intense by candlelight. “I meant it, you know.”

“I didn’t even say it.”

“You did,” she nodded. “Louder than words.”

He brushed damp hair off of her forehead and leaned it to kiss the glistening skin. The words, whispered against her cooling flesh, sent shivers along her spine. “I love you, my Willow.”

She pulled away and touched his lips with a gentle hand. “But it’s still very nice to hear.”