Trifling (Darla/Anyanka)
Seems like a good week to celebrate Anyanka, no? Here's a repost from femslash_minis
Title Trifling
Author Brutti ma buoni
Pairing Darla/Anyanka
Rating PG13
Word count 650
Prompt For cmk418, who wanted a wish, velvet curtains and pre-Sunnydale
There’s nothing like a tester bed. The luxury of velvet curtains surrounds Darla, and she stretches gloriously. Are these sheets silken? Perfectly smooth, in any case. Such things are rare in these degenerate modern times. When she can achieve it, though, a four-poster bed remains one of the best ways to wake, of an evening: comfort, richness and (naturally) food on tap. The bed’s previous occupant (deceased) has been thrown out, but some kind minion has delivered her another morsel. A girl is trussed and thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed, her head hidden by curtains. Her body is promisingly slender and nubile, however. Darla slips down the bed to examine her prize.
There is no fear in the girl’s eyes. After Darla removes the gag, she says, “You’re not going to kill me.”
Prey doesn’t often talk back in this way. Begging, pleading, fleeing - these are natural. Argument is wrong. Darla shows her fangs, expecting horror.
But the sleek dark girl in Darla’s hands is laughing. Not a relaxed laugh, but a sneer. “You’re a fool. I’m not human. I’m more than you have ever dreamed.”
Darla shrugs, and bites anyway.
A mistake. The taste is foul, weakening. She can’t drink more than a drop, and can’t get the stench of it out of her mouth.
The girl shrugs, and her bonds slip free. “As I clearly stated, you’re not going to kill me. I haven’t been human for a lot longer than you, Darla. And I wanted to meet you.”
Ah, a fan. This happens occasionally with vampires, but Darla is not aware of having wider fame. She arches a brow. “And now you have, what are you planning to do? Kiss my feet?”
“If you wish it.” The girl gives a half smirk. She’s very uppity, for a fan. “But I hope you’ll have a little more imagination. I hear you’ve been having trouble with men.”
“Angelus?” Has she really become famous only for that souled milksop?
“Hardly.” There’s a welcome note of scorn in the girl’s voice which only intensifies as she explains further. “Your Master. We heard he’d turned you out. After all you’d done for him over the centuries, right?”
It’s still a raw wound for Darla - too much, to be rejected after finally swallowing her pride and seeking him out again. “He said I was tainted by the world. Modern. The fool, hiding underground away from light like a scared little beetle. I wish he’d get stuck underground, forever trying to escape.”
The girl shrugs. “Well, that was unexpectedly simple.” Her face contorts hideously into something other-than-human. “Wish granted.”
Darla recoils a little. “What was that?”
The face is smooth once more. “Mmmm? Oh, vengeance demon power thing. Hello, I’m Anyanka, the patron saint of scorned women. Congratulations! You just hit the mystical wish jackpot.”
Unexpected, but Darla follows her meaning. “You mean the Master’s stuck underground? Because of you, and me and that casual wish?”
“Yep. Luckily, he was trying a whole mystical thing and that’s always good for magical accidents. Easy.” Anyanka stretches, freeing up the knots from her time bound and gagged. Even if she could have got free at any moment, it must have been a trifle uncomfortable.
“So, what with the speedy wish-making and the easy wish-granting, I have a hole in my schedule. This bed is very pleasing, now the corpse has been removed. I could do wonderful things in this bed.” Her dress seems to be slipping away, though the demon hasn’t obviously made any move to dispose of it. She really is very nubile. “So, you want to stay, or shall I find an alternative bed-mate?”
Darla finds herself laughing - and that’s a rarity in these dire days.
Besides, it really is a marvellous bed.
So they stay, and play, while the corpse decomposes beyond the velvet curtains, and the Master screams with rage in the Hellmouth.
Title Trifling
Author Brutti ma buoni
Pairing Darla/Anyanka
Rating PG13
Word count 650
Prompt For cmk418, who wanted a wish, velvet curtains and pre-Sunnydale
There’s nothing like a tester bed. The luxury of velvet curtains surrounds Darla, and she stretches gloriously. Are these sheets silken? Perfectly smooth, in any case. Such things are rare in these degenerate modern times. When she can achieve it, though, a four-poster bed remains one of the best ways to wake, of an evening: comfort, richness and (naturally) food on tap. The bed’s previous occupant (deceased) has been thrown out, but some kind minion has delivered her another morsel. A girl is trussed and thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed, her head hidden by curtains. Her body is promisingly slender and nubile, however. Darla slips down the bed to examine her prize.
There is no fear in the girl’s eyes. After Darla removes the gag, she says, “You’re not going to kill me.”
Prey doesn’t often talk back in this way. Begging, pleading, fleeing - these are natural. Argument is wrong. Darla shows her fangs, expecting horror.
But the sleek dark girl in Darla’s hands is laughing. Not a relaxed laugh, but a sneer. “You’re a fool. I’m not human. I’m more than you have ever dreamed.”
Darla shrugs, and bites anyway.
A mistake. The taste is foul, weakening. She can’t drink more than a drop, and can’t get the stench of it out of her mouth.
The girl shrugs, and her bonds slip free. “As I clearly stated, you’re not going to kill me. I haven’t been human for a lot longer than you, Darla. And I wanted to meet you.”
Ah, a fan. This happens occasionally with vampires, but Darla is not aware of having wider fame. She arches a brow. “And now you have, what are you planning to do? Kiss my feet?”
“If you wish it.” The girl gives a half smirk. She’s very uppity, for a fan. “But I hope you’ll have a little more imagination. I hear you’ve been having trouble with men.”
“Angelus?” Has she really become famous only for that souled milksop?
“Hardly.” There’s a welcome note of scorn in the girl’s voice which only intensifies as she explains further. “Your Master. We heard he’d turned you out. After all you’d done for him over the centuries, right?”
It’s still a raw wound for Darla - too much, to be rejected after finally swallowing her pride and seeking him out again. “He said I was tainted by the world. Modern. The fool, hiding underground away from light like a scared little beetle. I wish he’d get stuck underground, forever trying to escape.”
The girl shrugs. “Well, that was unexpectedly simple.” Her face contorts hideously into something other-than-human. “Wish granted.”
Darla recoils a little. “What was that?”
The face is smooth once more. “Mmmm? Oh, vengeance demon power thing. Hello, I’m Anyanka, the patron saint of scorned women. Congratulations! You just hit the mystical wish jackpot.”
Unexpected, but Darla follows her meaning. “You mean the Master’s stuck underground? Because of you, and me and that casual wish?”
“Yep. Luckily, he was trying a whole mystical thing and that’s always good for magical accidents. Easy.” Anyanka stretches, freeing up the knots from her time bound and gagged. Even if she could have got free at any moment, it must have been a trifle uncomfortable.
“So, what with the speedy wish-making and the easy wish-granting, I have a hole in my schedule. This bed is very pleasing, now the corpse has been removed. I could do wonderful things in this bed.” Her dress seems to be slipping away, though the demon hasn’t obviously made any move to dispose of it. She really is very nubile. “So, you want to stay, or shall I find an alternative bed-mate?”
Darla finds herself laughing - and that’s a rarity in these dire days.
Besides, it really is a marvellous bed.
So they stay, and play, while the corpse decomposes beyond the velvet curtains, and the Master screams with rage in the Hellmouth.