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snoggedI'm feeling the strong desire to post this ahead of schedule, probably because of the blood, sweat, and tears I poured into this during its creation. I hope no one minds. :D
Title: Holding Her Own (7/10)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Angelus, Willow/Tara, Willow/Angel (friendship)
Word Count: 1994
Overall Rating/Highlight for Warnings: FRAO/NC-17; *angst/dark themes, character death, drug use, crude language (including sexual swearing) violence, sex*
Setting: Set Post-Season 5 of BtVS/Season 2 of AtS.
Summary: Still struggling with Buffy's death, Willow gets an unexpected visitor that brings a whole new set of problems to Sunnydale.
Beta(s):![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
velvetwhip and whichclothes . All other mistakes are mine.
A/N: Several years ago, I started a WIP that never went further than the first chapter. This is my attempt to fix that. Enjoy!
A/N 2: This story is completed and chapters will be posted weekly.
Previous Chapters
Featuring artwork byrua1412 any spikesredqueen
Two bodies shrouded in shadows, dark shapes dancing across their glowing, naked flesh.
As her lips moved to capture his, his hand moved between their bodies. Out of her sight, but not out of her mind, his fingers curved and dipped between her folds, sampling her wetness. There was no hesitation, no question about whether or not she was more excited by his action than previous lovers had been.
The woman wriggled and writhed, caught between his body and the rough brick wall. She rocked her hips to meet his shallow thrusts, silently pleading with him to go deeper, to make her truly feel it.
But he resisted, teasing her, making her squirm. He wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to scream for it, wanted her to burn for it.
***
Willow’s legs thrashed, successfully kicking the sheets off of the bed and freeing herself from their uncomfortable confines. When had it become so darn hot? Why did her head hurt so much? And more importantly, why was she…?
The questioning thoughts trailed off as she willed herself to open her eyes. At first, the simple task was immensely difficult because her eyelashes seemed glued to her cheeks. But after forcing herself to blink a few times, she managed to accomplish it. Unfortunately, waking up didn’t change the fact that she was feeling groggy and emotionally hung-over. As she became aware of where she was, a flare of panic momentarily overwhelmed her. Her nightmare wasn’t over yet. She was still somewhere inside Angelus’s house and Dawn and Tara were nowhere in sight, despite the success of last night’s magical rescue.
In an attempt to center herself and figure out what to do next, she focused her attention on the details of her gilded cage. The bed she was still lying in was a wrought-iron four-poster with sharply-pointed bedposts. The ceiling was low and flat, accentuated only by a white dome light casting a fluorescent glow over the room. The walls were painted a pale shade of blue, but were completely barren, with the exception of a D-ring that had been screwed in just above the bed’s headboard. However, there were no chains or other restraints, which meant Rack and Angelus didn’t consider her a flight risk.
Even after her Oscar-award winning special effects performance last night that should have left them quaking in their scuffed-up leather boots of evil.
“Arrggh!” Willow cursed, pulling herself into a seated position and crossing her legs underneath her, Native American-style. The creaking of the bed springs responding to her shifting weight was the only sympathy she received for her current predicament and it did absolutely nothing to soothe her.
She reached behind her to grab one of the feather pillows she’d spent the better part of who-knows-how-long sleeping on. Setting it down in her lap, she balled her hands into fists and started to pound into the cushy padding. She willed the pillow to disintegrate with each strike, but the pillow didn’t surrender. All she managed to accomplish was making it lumpier.
With an exasperated sigh, she chucked the pillow at the wall. It made a soft thumping noise on impact and promptly slid down to the floor. As she watched it fall, she was struck by a sudden mental image of flesh sliding over flesh- two lovers entangled and yet unfettered- spurred by passion and desire. From there, the dream that had efficiently steamed up her subconscious unraveled itself in her conscious. Any normal girl experiencing a recollection quite like this one would be blushing by now, eager to tell her best girl friend about the man with moves to rival Leonardo DiCaprio and John Cusack.
Okay- maybe that last one was just a Willow fantasy…one that still cropped up from time to time despite the fact that she was firmly playing for the pink team now. Besides, who could really blame her for the occasional sexy dream that cropped up after indulging in late night viewings of Say Anything while under the influence of chocolate and alcohol. It didn’t make her any less gay.
But the current state of her lesbianism wasn’t the real issue here. The real issue was that she couldn’t pretend that this trek into the world of heterosexual fantasy was just the result of a harmless Cusack binge that didn't mean anything. She couldn’t pretend that this was a time to be happy, go-lucky Willow. She was in the lair of a killer. for crissakes. Now was not the time to ramble herself into distraction.
So instead she focused her attention back on the cinematic smut running on instant replay through her mind to see if she could draw any conclusions from its intentions. That was when she noticed one of the details on the man starring in her vision: a tattoo of a large, ink-black gryphon gripping an “A” in its talons.
Angelus.
She had only seen that tattoo in person once and it had been a night where she had been needed to play nursemaid after a particularly gruesome patrol a few years back. She had been sitting in the library with Giles reading up on C’ulux demons when Angel and Buffy had stumbled in, clutching each other for support. Vampire healing, while able to aid in the process, hadn’t been enough to seal the wounds and gashes that decorated Angel’s back. He’d taken a brutal beating and Giles had assigned her the job of dabbing his wounds with hydrogen peroxide while he took care of his Slayer.
She’d been embarrassed to touch Angel’s bare skin then, but with Angel’s reassurance, she’d been able to do what had been asked of her.
She didn’t have that sense of relief now. Instead she felt violated, knowing that Angelus had gotten Rack to alter her dreams in an attempt to make her feel something for him. To manipulate her into thinking that he wasn't all about rape and torture as if that would make her love him. It made her feel sick.
At that moment, the door to her room burst open and Angelus casually sauntered inside with Rack sliding in behind him. They were still dressed the same as they had been last night, but Angelus seemed to be the only one with a spring in his step. Rack, on the other hand, didn’t look particularly springy. Mostly, he just looked wiped out.
Serves him right for messing with my dreams, Willow thought.
“Oh good, the little witch has woken up. I trust you slept well?” Angelus said, smirking. The cocky curl of his lip and the venom in his tone made her shudder. He was perfectly aware of how she slept last night. In fact, it probably pleased the hell out of him that she wore her emotions as vividly as the cover of a book.
“Slept just fine. Thanks for asking,” Willow retorted, rolling her eyes. She didn’t want to give in to him, didn’t want to admit that he’d gotten under her skin.
Angelus’s eyes shifted towards the crumpled heap of sheets on the side of the bed and a grin split his face. “Any pleasant dreams?”
Willow’s spine stiffened and she sucked in her cheeks, hoping to hide the blush that had unwillingly crept across them.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Oh, I happen to think it is,” Angelus said, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “But if you’d rather, I could tell you about my dream last night. Could tell you all about the pretty redhead who surrendered to me, who got her pretty little throat fucked raw as punishment for the very stupid actions she decided to take last night. Do you know how happy that made me?”
“Not happy enough,” Willow countered.
Angelus nodded, looking extremely disappointed. “I hope you’ve come to your senses, baby, and have reconsidered my offer. If not, I’m sure Rack here will be more than happy to convince you otherwise…”
“He tried that already,” Willow snapped.
Angelus chuckled, glancing over at Rack who was leaning against the wall located closest to the door. There was something in the wizard’s eyes that spoke of the fact that he had found a shared interest with Angelus. They both had a flair for drawn-out dramatics. “And you liked it, I bet. Liked how it made you feel. Liked remembering how it felt to have a throbbing cock pulsating inside of you instead of a battery-operated plastic one.”
“No,” Willow replied, as firmly as possible. There was no way in hell she was going to admit to liking what Rack had done to her, even if there were several grains of truth to it. In fact, as soon as she got out of this she was going to find all the books that contained the Tabula Memoria spell, rip the pages from their bindings, and set fire to them. Normally, she wasn’t a proponent of book burning, but by Jove, in this case it needed to be done.
“Liar,” Angelus hissed, his fists clenching at his sides. A flicker of violent disappointment that his plan to win her over hadn’t worked crossed his face, but he wasn’t going to give up just yet. “I can smell it on you. Can smell how much you liked it, how much you wanted me.”
Willow steeled her nerves. He was trying to break her down, trying to manipulate her by convincing her she was aroused. She had to stay strong, had to delay him from trying to force himself on her. “What I want is to see you become Angel again.”
Unlike the times before, this had the exact opposite effect from what she wanted.
Angelus roared in annoyance and lunged onto the bed. The force with which he landed knocked her out of her sitting position. Her head hit the mattress hard as her legs uncrossed themselves. Before she could catch her breath or cast a spell, he had her wrists pinned, his sharp nails digging into the tender flesh, and his legs were on either side of her waist.
The fear she’d been desperately trying to contain lit up her face as his growing hardness pressed down against her stomach. She didn’t want this.
“Angel. Don’t,” Willow pleaded.
“I’m done playing your games,” Angelus snarled, the face of his demon breaking through his usually flawless features. “I’m done waiting to get what’s rightfully mine.”
“Funis,” Rack muttered before disappearing from the room. His work here was done.
At the wizard’s command, thick black ropes descended from the D-ring and Angelus released her wrists just in time for the magical restraints to take his place. “It’s time to take what I want, baby. Time for me to get happy.”
Willow sucked in a breath as his face dropped closer to hers, his body pressing tighter against her. Sticking out his tongue, Angelus licked a broad, wet stripe over her cheek. Then he pursed his lips and began trailing kisses over the ridge of her cheekbone, around the outer curve of her ear, and down her neck. If Tara had been the one doing this, it would feel different. It would feel lovely, intimate, and special instead of feeling like a cheap, awful mockery of romantic expression.
He paused for a moment at the hollow of her throat, contemplating whether or not he wanted a taste before he kept going.
Willow braced herself, expecting to feel the piercing sting of his fangs sinking into her flesh. But it didn’t happen because in that moment, she noticed a set of pale, slender fingers sliding into Angelus’s gelled locks and wrenching the vampire’s head backwards.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?”
Angelus barely had time to grunt before he was lifted off the bed and flung against the wall and Willow had never been so happy to see that familiar pair of ice-blue eyes.
The cavalry had finally arrived.
Title: Holding Her Own (7/10)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Angelus, Willow/Tara, Willow/Angel (friendship)
Word Count: 1994
Overall Rating/Highlight for Warnings: FRAO/NC-17; *angst/dark themes, character death, drug use, crude language (including sexual swearing) violence, sex*
Setting: Set Post-Season 5 of BtVS/Season 2 of AtS.
Summary: Still struggling with Buffy's death, Willow gets an unexpected visitor that brings a whole new set of problems to Sunnydale.
Beta(s):
velvetwhip and whichclothes . All other mistakes are mine.A/N: Several years ago, I started a WIP that never went further than the first chapter. This is my attempt to fix that. Enjoy!
A/N 2: This story is completed and chapters will be posted weekly.
Previous Chapters
Featuring artwork by
rua1412 any spikesredqueenTwo bodies shrouded in shadows, dark shapes dancing across their glowing, naked flesh.
As her lips moved to capture his, his hand moved between their bodies. Out of her sight, but not out of her mind, his fingers curved and dipped between her folds, sampling her wetness. There was no hesitation, no question about whether or not she was more excited by his action than previous lovers had been.
The woman wriggled and writhed, caught between his body and the rough brick wall. She rocked her hips to meet his shallow thrusts, silently pleading with him to go deeper, to make her truly feel it.
But he resisted, teasing her, making her squirm. He wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to scream for it, wanted her to burn for it.
***
Willow’s legs thrashed, successfully kicking the sheets off of the bed and freeing herself from their uncomfortable confines. When had it become so darn hot? Why did her head hurt so much? And more importantly, why was she…?
The questioning thoughts trailed off as she willed herself to open her eyes. At first, the simple task was immensely difficult because her eyelashes seemed glued to her cheeks. But after forcing herself to blink a few times, she managed to accomplish it. Unfortunately, waking up didn’t change the fact that she was feeling groggy and emotionally hung-over. As she became aware of where she was, a flare of panic momentarily overwhelmed her. Her nightmare wasn’t over yet. She was still somewhere inside Angelus’s house and Dawn and Tara were nowhere in sight, despite the success of last night’s magical rescue.
In an attempt to center herself and figure out what to do next, she focused her attention on the details of her gilded cage. The bed she was still lying in was a wrought-iron four-poster with sharply-pointed bedposts. The ceiling was low and flat, accentuated only by a white dome light casting a fluorescent glow over the room. The walls were painted a pale shade of blue, but were completely barren, with the exception of a D-ring that had been screwed in just above the bed’s headboard. However, there were no chains or other restraints, which meant Rack and Angelus didn’t consider her a flight risk.
Even after her Oscar-award winning special effects performance last night that should have left them quaking in their scuffed-up leather boots of evil.
“Arrggh!” Willow cursed, pulling herself into a seated position and crossing her legs underneath her, Native American-style. The creaking of the bed springs responding to her shifting weight was the only sympathy she received for her current predicament and it did absolutely nothing to soothe her.
She reached behind her to grab one of the feather pillows she’d spent the better part of who-knows-how-long sleeping on. Setting it down in her lap, she balled her hands into fists and started to pound into the cushy padding. She willed the pillow to disintegrate with each strike, but the pillow didn’t surrender. All she managed to accomplish was making it lumpier.
With an exasperated sigh, she chucked the pillow at the wall. It made a soft thumping noise on impact and promptly slid down to the floor. As she watched it fall, she was struck by a sudden mental image of flesh sliding over flesh- two lovers entangled and yet unfettered- spurred by passion and desire. From there, the dream that had efficiently steamed up her subconscious unraveled itself in her conscious. Any normal girl experiencing a recollection quite like this one would be blushing by now, eager to tell her best girl friend about the man with moves to rival Leonardo DiCaprio and John Cusack.
Okay- maybe that last one was just a Willow fantasy…one that still cropped up from time to time despite the fact that she was firmly playing for the pink team now. Besides, who could really blame her for the occasional sexy dream that cropped up after indulging in late night viewings of Say Anything while under the influence of chocolate and alcohol. It didn’t make her any less gay.
But the current state of her lesbianism wasn’t the real issue here. The real issue was that she couldn’t pretend that this trek into the world of heterosexual fantasy was just the result of a harmless Cusack binge that didn't mean anything. She couldn’t pretend that this was a time to be happy, go-lucky Willow. She was in the lair of a killer. for crissakes. Now was not the time to ramble herself into distraction.
So instead she focused her attention back on the cinematic smut running on instant replay through her mind to see if she could draw any conclusions from its intentions. That was when she noticed one of the details on the man starring in her vision: a tattoo of a large, ink-black gryphon gripping an “A” in its talons.
Angelus.
She had only seen that tattoo in person once and it had been a night where she had been needed to play nursemaid after a particularly gruesome patrol a few years back. She had been sitting in the library with Giles reading up on C’ulux demons when Angel and Buffy had stumbled in, clutching each other for support. Vampire healing, while able to aid in the process, hadn’t been enough to seal the wounds and gashes that decorated Angel’s back. He’d taken a brutal beating and Giles had assigned her the job of dabbing his wounds with hydrogen peroxide while he took care of his Slayer.
She’d been embarrassed to touch Angel’s bare skin then, but with Angel’s reassurance, she’d been able to do what had been asked of her.
She didn’t have that sense of relief now. Instead she felt violated, knowing that Angelus had gotten Rack to alter her dreams in an attempt to make her feel something for him. To manipulate her into thinking that he wasn't all about rape and torture as if that would make her love him. It made her feel sick.
At that moment, the door to her room burst open and Angelus casually sauntered inside with Rack sliding in behind him. They were still dressed the same as they had been last night, but Angelus seemed to be the only one with a spring in his step. Rack, on the other hand, didn’t look particularly springy. Mostly, he just looked wiped out.
Serves him right for messing with my dreams, Willow thought.
“Oh good, the little witch has woken up. I trust you slept well?” Angelus said, smirking. The cocky curl of his lip and the venom in his tone made her shudder. He was perfectly aware of how she slept last night. In fact, it probably pleased the hell out of him that she wore her emotions as vividly as the cover of a book.
“Slept just fine. Thanks for asking,” Willow retorted, rolling her eyes. She didn’t want to give in to him, didn’t want to admit that he’d gotten under her skin.
Angelus’s eyes shifted towards the crumpled heap of sheets on the side of the bed and a grin split his face. “Any pleasant dreams?”
Willow’s spine stiffened and she sucked in her cheeks, hoping to hide the blush that had unwillingly crept across them.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Oh, I happen to think it is,” Angelus said, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “But if you’d rather, I could tell you about my dream last night. Could tell you all about the pretty redhead who surrendered to me, who got her pretty little throat fucked raw as punishment for the very stupid actions she decided to take last night. Do you know how happy that made me?”
“Not happy enough,” Willow countered.
Angelus nodded, looking extremely disappointed. “I hope you’ve come to your senses, baby, and have reconsidered my offer. If not, I’m sure Rack here will be more than happy to convince you otherwise…”
“He tried that already,” Willow snapped.
Angelus chuckled, glancing over at Rack who was leaning against the wall located closest to the door. There was something in the wizard’s eyes that spoke of the fact that he had found a shared interest with Angelus. They both had a flair for drawn-out dramatics. “And you liked it, I bet. Liked how it made you feel. Liked remembering how it felt to have a throbbing cock pulsating inside of you instead of a battery-operated plastic one.”
“No,” Willow replied, as firmly as possible. There was no way in hell she was going to admit to liking what Rack had done to her, even if there were several grains of truth to it. In fact, as soon as she got out of this she was going to find all the books that contained the Tabula Memoria spell, rip the pages from their bindings, and set fire to them. Normally, she wasn’t a proponent of book burning, but by Jove, in this case it needed to be done.
“Liar,” Angelus hissed, his fists clenching at his sides. A flicker of violent disappointment that his plan to win her over hadn’t worked crossed his face, but he wasn’t going to give up just yet. “I can smell it on you. Can smell how much you liked it, how much you wanted me.”
Willow steeled her nerves. He was trying to break her down, trying to manipulate her by convincing her she was aroused. She had to stay strong, had to delay him from trying to force himself on her. “What I want is to see you become Angel again.”
Unlike the times before, this had the exact opposite effect from what she wanted.
Angelus roared in annoyance and lunged onto the bed. The force with which he landed knocked her out of her sitting position. Her head hit the mattress hard as her legs uncrossed themselves. Before she could catch her breath or cast a spell, he had her wrists pinned, his sharp nails digging into the tender flesh, and his legs were on either side of her waist.
The fear she’d been desperately trying to contain lit up her face as his growing hardness pressed down against her stomach. She didn’t want this.
“Angel. Don’t,” Willow pleaded.
“I’m done playing your games,” Angelus snarled, the face of his demon breaking through his usually flawless features. “I’m done waiting to get what’s rightfully mine.”
“Funis,” Rack muttered before disappearing from the room. His work here was done.
At the wizard’s command, thick black ropes descended from the D-ring and Angelus released her wrists just in time for the magical restraints to take his place. “It’s time to take what I want, baby. Time for me to get happy.”
Willow sucked in a breath as his face dropped closer to hers, his body pressing tighter against her. Sticking out his tongue, Angelus licked a broad, wet stripe over her cheek. Then he pursed his lips and began trailing kisses over the ridge of her cheekbone, around the outer curve of her ear, and down her neck. If Tara had been the one doing this, it would feel different. It would feel lovely, intimate, and special instead of feeling like a cheap, awful mockery of romantic expression.
He paused for a moment at the hollow of her throat, contemplating whether or not he wanted a taste before he kept going.
Willow braced herself, expecting to feel the piercing sting of his fangs sinking into her flesh. But it didn’t happen because in that moment, she noticed a set of pale, slender fingers sliding into Angelus’s gelled locks and wrenching the vampire’s head backwards.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?”
Angelus barely had time to grunt before he was lifted off the bed and flung against the wall and Willow had never been so happy to see that familiar pair of ice-blue eyes.
The cavalry had finally arrived.