Five Flavors of Sunnydale Sin
Nov. 3rd, 2007 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairings: Multiple slash, femslash, het
Rating: NC-17 like whoa
Warnings: Death, angst, sex, bad language...this is just dark, okay? Also, I'm slapping an AU warning on this, so don't be shocked if some thing are completely out of whack with canon...
Summary: Sin, tasting like candy or bitterest ashes, comes in so many different flavors...
A/N: Originally written forever ago forgirlpire , who likes five things every once in awhile. For those of you on my friend's list, there's a follow-up story to one of these drabbles entitled "Trespass Sweetly Urged". It is my only friends-locked entry, because it deals with some *very* squicky subjects. But, the follow-up story came up in a conversation with clawofcat and I realized I never posted this piece here. Which is why I'm posting it here now...
Sweet
Willow lay in the shadows, a small smile on her face. The smell of lilacs and honey teased her nose, courtesy of the warm bundle in her arms. The scent of her lover floating around her always made Willow’s heart do flip-flops. It had taken her so long to get over Tara. Her family had come and taken her away, without a word. One day, she and Tara were a happy couple, the next Tara was gone. She had packed up and fled, with no note and no explanation.
Willow remembered the ache that followed Tara’s abandonment, a physical sensation that wracked her body. She’d tried to bleed it out, slicing into her flesh in an effort to feel. Luckily, she’d been caught. Dawn had taken to shadowing Willow, refusing to leave her alone for a moment. Willow had been moved into the Summer’s house, Buffy staunchly agreeing with Dawn that Willow need supervisions. It had annoyed her. Her best friend’s little sister treating her like a head case. Twice now, her lovers had abandoned her and she wasn’t entitled to a little grief?
She’d stayed annoyed for a long time. The incident on the Tower had shaken her up. Seeing Dawn up there, helpless, had given Willow the strength to defeat a God. Spike and Buffy had fought their way to Dawn’s side while Willow and her magic threw down Glory. That night, with teary eyes, Dawn had come to Willow’s bedroom. Without a word, Willow opened her arms, enfolding the teen-age girl in a warm embrace. The lovely girl stayed there the whole night, and in the morning, offered Willow a loving kiss from soft lips.
Willow shuddered, the memory of that kiss still powerful enough to rock her. She’d fought against it, this bone-deep attraction she felt for Dawn. Dawn was child and Willow knew she had no right to touch something so pure. Dawn had different ideas. She’d listened patiently to Willow’s explanation, and at the end of a long, babbling rant, had leaned forward and kissed the redhead again.
Willow had managed, with difficulty, to restrain the girl for two whole years. Tonight, Dawn had once again decided their course. After Dawn’s Sweet Sixteen party, which thankfully didn’t include any world saveage or monster smashing, Willow had gone to her bed. She laid there, alone, body throbbing at the memory of the hot, lush kisses Dawn had given her in various dark corners of the house. Willow dropped a hand to her aroused center, sliding through her slick folds, imagining Dawn’s fingers there instead of her own.
Suddenly, there were moist lips against her breasts, eager fingers nudging hers aside. Dawn’s lithe nude form covered Willow, and a soft voice, panting out desperately arousing words of desire. Willow writhed underneath the forceful girl as their hairless mounds ground together, wringing out swift and forceful orgasms from the two lovers.
It had been a wonderful night, Willow thought dreamily as Dawn stirred sleepily next to her. They had made love for hours, breathless gasps and muffled giggles filling the bedroom. Willow licked her lips, still tasting the sugary sweetness of Dawn’s slippery juices. She clutched the slender girl tightly, knowing, as Dawn did not that the consequences for this would be massive.
It was wrong. She knew it. Dawn was a teen-ager and far too young for her. Still, Willow knew she wouldn’t turn the girl away from her bed again. Love did that to you, she guessed. It made even the worst sin seem sweet.
Salty
Buffy stood still as death, waiting for her prey. That’s all she was now. No more little girl, no more vibrant woman, just this. Death incarnate, dressed in black and carrying an arsenal inside her heart. Her breath, smooth and even, barely broke the silence of the cemetery.
She’d refused all offers of help. Giles, Xander, even Spike had offered to come with her. Spike, in a gesture both gallant and morbid, had tried to send her home. I’ll do it Slayer, he told her, save you the pain. She met his concerned gaze with eyes more soulless than his own.
What pain? Her reply, cold as ice and poisonous as mercury, startled all of them. Except Spike, she knew. He wasn’t surprised. If anyone knew the price of love, Spike did. Down to the last penny, the last drop of blood, the last minute increment of pain, Spike knew and now she did too.
The fledge burst through the ground, snarling and yowling ferociously. Buffy took a step back, whirled once quick as lightening, and slammed the stake home. Riley froze, demon receding from his face, and said her name once before exploding in a cloud of dust.
Not my name anymore, she replied as the dust of her lover rained down on her. No more Buffy, she repeated dully as the salty taste of her own tears spattered her lips. There’s only Death now and it’s all your fault. Vamp whores and then you get staked by your own girlfriend. The perils of promiscuous blood sharing, she laughed hollowly, walking away from his grave. No sin in saving the world, even if saving the world means killing the ones you love. No sin, no sin, no sin, the cemetery seemed to repeat. I guess now I need a pale horse, she answered back to the emptiness, wiping away the traitorous tears. No sin in saving the world and she kept walking.
Sour
Being right, Giles reflected, was worse than being wrong. If you were wrong, there was a bit of embarrassment and then relief. What luck! You were wrong. No need to worry, because you were wrong.
But being right, oh being right! That meant that you knew and you let it happen anyways. If you had done something, you would have been right still, but with less mess to clean up afterwards. So, he was right, he had done nothing, and now he had a mess to clean up. With all of that, it was no wonder that being right left a sour taste in his mouth.
Death, where is thy sting? Why, it’s right here. Thank you ever so; I wondered where it had gotten. Giles let loose a bark of laughter, sure now that his mind was going. Well, they do say the mind is the first thing. Of course, in a world turned to Hell, the mind probably didn’t matter much, as the body would soon be destroyed. Mind isn’t much use without a body.
He’d known better than to trust Ethan. Of course he knew better. So many years with the man, and he knew what the devil was capable of. But he foolishly believed he could control Ethan, as if a rope would restrain the wind. The man reveled in chaos, and one aging Watcher to control him? Preposterous. That’s what comes of pride, Giles acknowledged. The gravest of all sins, pride.
Ethan hadn’t helped to take down The First. Oh, he’d rid them of the abominable preacher. That and only that, because he aimed to take the man’s place in The First’s army. He gotten that place, as The First’s vessel, and now he helped to control the Hellmouth. Xander, Anya, and Andrew had fallen the first night. Dawn and Willow had made it a week, with a combination of magic and skill, but in the end, they too had died horribly. None of the potentials had lasted through the fight in the cave, while Robin and Spike had led a diversionary raid, never to return. Buffy sat beside him now, wheezing wetly, the hole in her lung bringing bubbles of blood to her lips. She called fitfully for her mother, for Dawn, for Angel, begging him to bring her loved ones to her. He consoled her with lies, told her they were on their way. She’d be gone soon, and he’d be alone. Alone but not dead, because Ethan had plans for him. Giles trembled, knowing Ethan’s plans would involve pain and humiliation.
As he laid Buffy’s lifeless body in a sheltered cave, he tried with difficulty to bring his mind under control. The sour taste in his mouth wouldn’t go away, and he swallowed thickly. Yes, being right was infinitely worse than being wrong.
Bitter
Xander kicked the wall, frustration and anger roiling in his gut. So what, he yelled, so I loved them both? Why the hell am I being punished? It’s not fair!
He had been cast out. When Cordelia discovered him kissing Spike in the warehouse, she’d rushed from the room, shrieking. She slipped and ended up impaled on a rebar. She lived, luckily, but that was all the luck he’d gotten in this situation.
Buffy, Willow, and Giles refused to talk to him, He had been unfaithful and not just unfaithful, but unfaithful with an undead man. No way out of that one and no forgiveness. Just cold stares and wordless dismissals for Xander now. Spike had left, chasing after Drusilla. He’d had his bit of fun, and he was off. Greedy boy, Spike mocked him. Wanted to have your cake and eat it too. Now you’ve got the bellyache that greedy boys deserve.
That stung the worst. Xander had offered himself to Spike because he cared. The bleached blonde hadn’t just aroused his dick; he’d aroused Xander’s mind and heart as well. The vampire’s passion, his humor, his persistence, those traits called to Xander. Those were things he wanted for himself, and having tasted them in Spike, he wanted them even more now.
So, Xander raved and ranted, calling out for justice and understanding. When the heavens refused to answer, Xander packed a bag. The bitterness of his rejection lay like ashes on his tongue, and he knew what he had to do. He was going to find Spike and…what had that fucking bastard said? Oh yeah, torture him until he loves me again. Sound plan, Xander smiled grimly, shouldering his backpack and heading towards the bus station. Eventually, Spike would see things his way.
Bloody
Angel smiled cruelly, his demonic face lighting up with glee. So, the boy had decided to trespass on his territory? Not only that, but to offer himself to another? What fun this would be, reminding these two of their rightful place under his dominion.
He watched Buffy struggle to escape the silken threads of her imprisonment. He’d gotten Wes to enchant the silk scarves, knowing that only magical restraints would hold the Slayer. Still and all, while she had to learn her lesson, he didn’t want to hurt her too much. Just to remind her of who she belonged to.
Spike, on the other hand, knew exactly who he belonged to and had deliberately defied that. Angel watched his beautiful blue-eyed blonde spit and hiss on the St. Andrew’s cross, arching away from the holy water covered steel. Yes, his precious little one certainly needed to suffer for giving his Sire’s property to another.
“You see, Buffy? This is what happens when you forget whose mark you wear,” Angel said conversationally. “You. Are. Mine. And I don’t share what’s mine.”
Buffy’s eye widened, and her struggles ceased as Angel’s fingers grazed the scar on her neck. Her breathing quickened and he could smell the flood of arousal that dampened the satin sheets underneath her. He smiled again, this time pleased at her response to his touch. Her body flushed with desire, and he enjoyed the sight of her pert nipples tightening. He increased the pressure on his mark, sighing in satisfaction as she jerked and spasmed in orgasmic frenzy from that simple touch on her neck.
“Now you know, lover,” he whispered in her ear. “You belong to me and only me. If I say so, you’ll take a dozen men at once. If I command you to sleep alone and untouched, you do as I command. Do you understand now, Buffy?”
She nodded obediently, stretching under his caress like a kitten. He tweaked her still hard nipples, licking and nipping at her neck. She bucked again, and he withdrew. Leaving her wet and wanting, he crossed the room and stood behind Spike.
“The same goes for you, my precious lad. This cock belongs to me,” and Angel took Spike’s thick erection in his hands, stroking it roughly. “You don’t share my property, and you know it. I never gave you permission to fuck the Slayer, but you did it anyways. Now it’s time for Daddy’s bad little boy to take his punishment.”
Angel struck viciously, fangs slicing through the scar on Spike’s neck. He drank from his unruly Childe with long, luxurious sucks. The heady taste of Spike’s blood on his tongue drew a loud moan from Angel. When he pulled back, fangs glistening with Spike’s blood, Angel saw the evidence of Spike’s passion dripping from the plummy head of his Childe’s rapidly softening cock.
“That’s my boy,” Angel crooned. “Daddy’s boy. Now, you won’t ever forget, will you?”
Spike shook his head. His voice, hoarse from pain and lust, croaked, “No, I won’t forget, Angel. You’re a jealous git, and since you can’t be happy, you don’t want anyone else to be happy either.”
Angel nodded judiciously. Spike was right. He was jealous of both of them. Buffy for having Spike, and Spike for having Buffy. The truth didn’t hurt. It liberated. He was jealous and he didn’t care. Buffy’s rich cum scent in the air, and Spike’s blood in his mouth eliminated most of his pain. Too bad it didn’t make him happier. The things he wanted to do were incompatible with the soul. Well, he shrugged, still plenty of time left to get rid of it. He picked up the clamps and lash, walking over to Buffy’s prone form. Plenty of time and enough opportunities in this room to find his perfect happiness again.
Rating: NC-17 like whoa
Warnings: Death, angst, sex, bad language...this is just dark, okay? Also, I'm slapping an AU warning on this, so don't be shocked if some thing are completely out of whack with canon...
Summary: Sin, tasting like candy or bitterest ashes, comes in so many different flavors...
A/N: Originally written forever ago for
girlpire , who likes five things every once in awhile. For those of you on my friend's list, there's a follow-up story to one of these drabbles entitled "Trespass Sweetly Urged". It is my only friends-locked entry, because it deals with some *very* squicky subjects. But, the follow-up story came up in a conversation with clawofcat and I realized I never posted this piece here. Which is why I'm posting it here now...Sweet
Willow lay in the shadows, a small smile on her face. The smell of lilacs and honey teased her nose, courtesy of the warm bundle in her arms. The scent of her lover floating around her always made Willow’s heart do flip-flops. It had taken her so long to get over Tara. Her family had come and taken her away, without a word. One day, she and Tara were a happy couple, the next Tara was gone. She had packed up and fled, with no note and no explanation.
Willow remembered the ache that followed Tara’s abandonment, a physical sensation that wracked her body. She’d tried to bleed it out, slicing into her flesh in an effort to feel. Luckily, she’d been caught. Dawn had taken to shadowing Willow, refusing to leave her alone for a moment. Willow had been moved into the Summer’s house, Buffy staunchly agreeing with Dawn that Willow need supervisions. It had annoyed her. Her best friend’s little sister treating her like a head case. Twice now, her lovers had abandoned her and she wasn’t entitled to a little grief?
She’d stayed annoyed for a long time. The incident on the Tower had shaken her up. Seeing Dawn up there, helpless, had given Willow the strength to defeat a God. Spike and Buffy had fought their way to Dawn’s side while Willow and her magic threw down Glory. That night, with teary eyes, Dawn had come to Willow’s bedroom. Without a word, Willow opened her arms, enfolding the teen-age girl in a warm embrace. The lovely girl stayed there the whole night, and in the morning, offered Willow a loving kiss from soft lips.
Willow shuddered, the memory of that kiss still powerful enough to rock her. She’d fought against it, this bone-deep attraction she felt for Dawn. Dawn was child and Willow knew she had no right to touch something so pure. Dawn had different ideas. She’d listened patiently to Willow’s explanation, and at the end of a long, babbling rant, had leaned forward and kissed the redhead again.
Willow had managed, with difficulty, to restrain the girl for two whole years. Tonight, Dawn had once again decided their course. After Dawn’s Sweet Sixteen party, which thankfully didn’t include any world saveage or monster smashing, Willow had gone to her bed. She laid there, alone, body throbbing at the memory of the hot, lush kisses Dawn had given her in various dark corners of the house. Willow dropped a hand to her aroused center, sliding through her slick folds, imagining Dawn’s fingers there instead of her own.
Suddenly, there were moist lips against her breasts, eager fingers nudging hers aside. Dawn’s lithe nude form covered Willow, and a soft voice, panting out desperately arousing words of desire. Willow writhed underneath the forceful girl as their hairless mounds ground together, wringing out swift and forceful orgasms from the two lovers.
It had been a wonderful night, Willow thought dreamily as Dawn stirred sleepily next to her. They had made love for hours, breathless gasps and muffled giggles filling the bedroom. Willow licked her lips, still tasting the sugary sweetness of Dawn’s slippery juices. She clutched the slender girl tightly, knowing, as Dawn did not that the consequences for this would be massive.
It was wrong. She knew it. Dawn was a teen-ager and far too young for her. Still, Willow knew she wouldn’t turn the girl away from her bed again. Love did that to you, she guessed. It made even the worst sin seem sweet.
Salty
Buffy stood still as death, waiting for her prey. That’s all she was now. No more little girl, no more vibrant woman, just this. Death incarnate, dressed in black and carrying an arsenal inside her heart. Her breath, smooth and even, barely broke the silence of the cemetery.
She’d refused all offers of help. Giles, Xander, even Spike had offered to come with her. Spike, in a gesture both gallant and morbid, had tried to send her home. I’ll do it Slayer, he told her, save you the pain. She met his concerned gaze with eyes more soulless than his own.
What pain? Her reply, cold as ice and poisonous as mercury, startled all of them. Except Spike, she knew. He wasn’t surprised. If anyone knew the price of love, Spike did. Down to the last penny, the last drop of blood, the last minute increment of pain, Spike knew and now she did too.
The fledge burst through the ground, snarling and yowling ferociously. Buffy took a step back, whirled once quick as lightening, and slammed the stake home. Riley froze, demon receding from his face, and said her name once before exploding in a cloud of dust.
Not my name anymore, she replied as the dust of her lover rained down on her. No more Buffy, she repeated dully as the salty taste of her own tears spattered her lips. There’s only Death now and it’s all your fault. Vamp whores and then you get staked by your own girlfriend. The perils of promiscuous blood sharing, she laughed hollowly, walking away from his grave. No sin in saving the world, even if saving the world means killing the ones you love. No sin, no sin, no sin, the cemetery seemed to repeat. I guess now I need a pale horse, she answered back to the emptiness, wiping away the traitorous tears. No sin in saving the world and she kept walking.
Sour
Being right, Giles reflected, was worse than being wrong. If you were wrong, there was a bit of embarrassment and then relief. What luck! You were wrong. No need to worry, because you were wrong.
But being right, oh being right! That meant that you knew and you let it happen anyways. If you had done something, you would have been right still, but with less mess to clean up afterwards. So, he was right, he had done nothing, and now he had a mess to clean up. With all of that, it was no wonder that being right left a sour taste in his mouth.
Death, where is thy sting? Why, it’s right here. Thank you ever so; I wondered where it had gotten. Giles let loose a bark of laughter, sure now that his mind was going. Well, they do say the mind is the first thing. Of course, in a world turned to Hell, the mind probably didn’t matter much, as the body would soon be destroyed. Mind isn’t much use without a body.
He’d known better than to trust Ethan. Of course he knew better. So many years with the man, and he knew what the devil was capable of. But he foolishly believed he could control Ethan, as if a rope would restrain the wind. The man reveled in chaos, and one aging Watcher to control him? Preposterous. That’s what comes of pride, Giles acknowledged. The gravest of all sins, pride.
Ethan hadn’t helped to take down The First. Oh, he’d rid them of the abominable preacher. That and only that, because he aimed to take the man’s place in The First’s army. He gotten that place, as The First’s vessel, and now he helped to control the Hellmouth. Xander, Anya, and Andrew had fallen the first night. Dawn and Willow had made it a week, with a combination of magic and skill, but in the end, they too had died horribly. None of the potentials had lasted through the fight in the cave, while Robin and Spike had led a diversionary raid, never to return. Buffy sat beside him now, wheezing wetly, the hole in her lung bringing bubbles of blood to her lips. She called fitfully for her mother, for Dawn, for Angel, begging him to bring her loved ones to her. He consoled her with lies, told her they were on their way. She’d be gone soon, and he’d be alone. Alone but not dead, because Ethan had plans for him. Giles trembled, knowing Ethan’s plans would involve pain and humiliation.
As he laid Buffy’s lifeless body in a sheltered cave, he tried with difficulty to bring his mind under control. The sour taste in his mouth wouldn’t go away, and he swallowed thickly. Yes, being right was infinitely worse than being wrong.
Bitter
Xander kicked the wall, frustration and anger roiling in his gut. So what, he yelled, so I loved them both? Why the hell am I being punished? It’s not fair!
He had been cast out. When Cordelia discovered him kissing Spike in the warehouse, she’d rushed from the room, shrieking. She slipped and ended up impaled on a rebar. She lived, luckily, but that was all the luck he’d gotten in this situation.
Buffy, Willow, and Giles refused to talk to him, He had been unfaithful and not just unfaithful, but unfaithful with an undead man. No way out of that one and no forgiveness. Just cold stares and wordless dismissals for Xander now. Spike had left, chasing after Drusilla. He’d had his bit of fun, and he was off. Greedy boy, Spike mocked him. Wanted to have your cake and eat it too. Now you’ve got the bellyache that greedy boys deserve.
That stung the worst. Xander had offered himself to Spike because he cared. The bleached blonde hadn’t just aroused his dick; he’d aroused Xander’s mind and heart as well. The vampire’s passion, his humor, his persistence, those traits called to Xander. Those were things he wanted for himself, and having tasted them in Spike, he wanted them even more now.
So, Xander raved and ranted, calling out for justice and understanding. When the heavens refused to answer, Xander packed a bag. The bitterness of his rejection lay like ashes on his tongue, and he knew what he had to do. He was going to find Spike and…what had that fucking bastard said? Oh yeah, torture him until he loves me again. Sound plan, Xander smiled grimly, shouldering his backpack and heading towards the bus station. Eventually, Spike would see things his way.
Bloody
Angel smiled cruelly, his demonic face lighting up with glee. So, the boy had decided to trespass on his territory? Not only that, but to offer himself to another? What fun this would be, reminding these two of their rightful place under his dominion.
He watched Buffy struggle to escape the silken threads of her imprisonment. He’d gotten Wes to enchant the silk scarves, knowing that only magical restraints would hold the Slayer. Still and all, while she had to learn her lesson, he didn’t want to hurt her too much. Just to remind her of who she belonged to.
Spike, on the other hand, knew exactly who he belonged to and had deliberately defied that. Angel watched his beautiful blue-eyed blonde spit and hiss on the St. Andrew’s cross, arching away from the holy water covered steel. Yes, his precious little one certainly needed to suffer for giving his Sire’s property to another.
“You see, Buffy? This is what happens when you forget whose mark you wear,” Angel said conversationally. “You. Are. Mine. And I don’t share what’s mine.”
Buffy’s eye widened, and her struggles ceased as Angel’s fingers grazed the scar on her neck. Her breathing quickened and he could smell the flood of arousal that dampened the satin sheets underneath her. He smiled again, this time pleased at her response to his touch. Her body flushed with desire, and he enjoyed the sight of her pert nipples tightening. He increased the pressure on his mark, sighing in satisfaction as she jerked and spasmed in orgasmic frenzy from that simple touch on her neck.
“Now you know, lover,” he whispered in her ear. “You belong to me and only me. If I say so, you’ll take a dozen men at once. If I command you to sleep alone and untouched, you do as I command. Do you understand now, Buffy?”
She nodded obediently, stretching under his caress like a kitten. He tweaked her still hard nipples, licking and nipping at her neck. She bucked again, and he withdrew. Leaving her wet and wanting, he crossed the room and stood behind Spike.
“The same goes for you, my precious lad. This cock belongs to me,” and Angel took Spike’s thick erection in his hands, stroking it roughly. “You don’t share my property, and you know it. I never gave you permission to fuck the Slayer, but you did it anyways. Now it’s time for Daddy’s bad little boy to take his punishment.”
Angel struck viciously, fangs slicing through the scar on Spike’s neck. He drank from his unruly Childe with long, luxurious sucks. The heady taste of Spike’s blood on his tongue drew a loud moan from Angel. When he pulled back, fangs glistening with Spike’s blood, Angel saw the evidence of Spike’s passion dripping from the plummy head of his Childe’s rapidly softening cock.
“That’s my boy,” Angel crooned. “Daddy’s boy. Now, you won’t ever forget, will you?”
Spike shook his head. His voice, hoarse from pain and lust, croaked, “No, I won’t forget, Angel. You’re a jealous git, and since you can’t be happy, you don’t want anyone else to be happy either.”
Angel nodded judiciously. Spike was right. He was jealous of both of them. Buffy for having Spike, and Spike for having Buffy. The truth didn’t hurt. It liberated. He was jealous and he didn’t care. Buffy’s rich cum scent in the air, and Spike’s blood in his mouth eliminated most of his pain. Too bad it didn’t make him happier. The things he wanted to do were incompatible with the soul. Well, he shrugged, still plenty of time left to get rid of it. He picked up the clamps and lash, walking over to Buffy’s prone form. Plenty of time and enough opportunities in this room to find his perfect happiness again.