Whedonland Big Bang Fics Part 3
Fic Collection (Theme - Hands)
Part 3, 20 Points: Candles, Wine, Darkness, Snuggle
Author: LMX
Fandom: Angel the Series
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Wes/Lilah (Wine), Darla/Dru (Snuggle)
Spoilers: All of Angel The Series, up to and including the finale
Warnings: Inaccurate timelines
Edit: Betaed by chokolattejedi, despite other far more important demands on time ;) Thank you hugely.
012. Candles (Faith, 210)
There was a soft, sweet scent rising as the flame started to eat at the wax. Something decidedly feminine that made her wrinkle her nose, but appreciate what was coming next all the more. She waited for the wax to be ready, fluid, and then picked up the candle delicately. Some of the wax escaped and rolled down her fingers, burning deliciously.
His eyes were huge and rolling in his head, making odd broken whimpering sounds behind the gag. They'd graduated past his answering questions and now she was just enjoying herself. She took her time in untying his hands from behind his back and taping them, palms up, on the chair arms.
"I have to say, I'm appreciating the... what is that, lavender?" she chuckled easily. "I'm feeling more relaxed already, what about you?"
A glare answered her question, and she laughed.
"Well you certainly aren't relaxed," she mused. "Maybe if I brought them a bit closer?"
She balanced the candle carefully in the palm of one of his hands and then moved to light the second one and did the same. They both watched, breathless, as the wax started to melt, each new touch of hot wax on sensitive skin bringing jerks and whines of pain.
Faith smiled.
043. Wine (Wes/Lilah, 297)
Her hand rests on the stem of the wine glass delicately, the other sweeping ostentatiously as she tells her story.
He shouldn't be watching. He's not even sharing a table with her, the story isn't for him and she probably isn't even aware he's there. But her hands are entrancing.
The wine sloshes a little and she blushes at her own enthusiasm. He wonders if the blush is part of the act, whether the companion for the night is a client she's there to impress. She doesn't seem like the type to blush off-hand like that. Maybe she's drunk more than half a glass of wine. Maybe he's a boyfriend and she doesn't have to be the cold, hard, strong woman they've come to know when she's with him.
The thought gives him an unexpected surge of jealousy. He doesn't have any right to her. Before tonight he wouldn't have said he even had any interest. But in this moment, with wine swirling ruby red in her glass...
She leaves with the other man, and he lingers so that he doesn't have to see them kiss in the carpark. When he finally emerges she's leaning against the side of his car, smirking broadly.
"Are you stalking me, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?" she asks, only a little gleefully. She hasn't put back on her mask of cold indifference and it's strangely liberating.
"You are leaning against *my* car," he points out blandly.
She steps forwards into his space and trails a delicate hand up his neck, brushing over the scars there. He resists the urge to back away, to make himself look week, but lets himself imagine those hands around a wine glass stem.
"Want to drive me to your house?" she whispers in his ear.
Breathless, he unlocks his car.
062. Darkness (Unidentified, 171)
Stood still in the darkness, breathing lightly and tentatively so that she could hear everything that was going on around her, she still didn't hear his approach.
She shivered from her core when his hand rested lightly on her shoulder and then slid around to the base of her neck, bringing his body tight in behind hers and his cheek onto the opposite shoulder.
He wasn't warm at her back, just as night-chilled as she was, but she could feel his breath on her skin as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.
His hand tightened, tipping her head to one side and exposing her neck, and he pressed his lips to her skin, inhaling deeply.
They froze there for a moment, both breathless, and then a handful of notes was pushed into her hand and he disappeared. She knew that if she turned around she wouldn't see him. She's not meant to see him.
She called out, "See you next time, Angel," but she wasn't sure if he heard.
079. Snuggle (Darla/Dru, 379)
They don't do this often - it's generally Angelus and William who demand their time so aggressively - but from time to time Darla will find a pause where she is with Drusilla, alone, and can enjoy her happily bizarre company.
Tonight - rather this morning - the boys are caught up in some frivolity in town and so they are alone and rather weary after their own night's pleasures. The boy Drusilla had chosen - rather earthy to the tongue if Darla had to comment - had long since stopped moving and was cooling in the corner while Drusilla waltzed to the song in her head. She was humming Ladybug Ladybug to herself, furtling around in the cupboards as if she was expecting to overturn baby Ann.
"Come lay with me," Darla ordered with a languorous yawn. "Dawn's breaking. The boys won't be back today."
Drusilla span on a sixpence, eyes wide and gleeful as she clasped her hands in front of her. "Oh grandma-ma, we could huddle and cuddle together under the blankets!" she exclaimed.
"No more 'grandma-ma'," Darla chided. "You make me feel I have aged a century rather than revelled in it."
Chastised, Druscilla's eyes welled with tears and Darla sighed.
"Come here," she demanded again, and Drusilla scurried to her side, almost tripping over her skirts in her hurry. Slowly, she helped Druscilla slip out of the excessive skirts and corset and allowed her to help with her own disrobing in return. When they were both down to slips and petticoats they collapsed together onto the bed they had taken the boy from.
They settled together, Darla's hand resting on Drusilla's stomach, and Drusilla holding that hand in both of hers, humming snippets of rhymes that made no sense, incomplete. Their hands entangled carefully and then less so as Drusilla tugged sharply.
"Rest now," Darla soothed.
"I can taste the horses on my tongue," Drusilla giggled back. "Oh, she shall have music wherever she goes!"
"I told you the taste would linger," Darla muttered into her hair. "Maybe that will teach you to snack between meals."
"Your skin is fluttery," Drusilla observed quietly, drawing her fingertip over Darla's eyelashes.
"Sleep."
"Goodnight, Grandma-ma."
Quietly charmed, Darla pulled her closer and fell into sleep.
Part 3, 20 Points: Candles, Wine, Darkness, Snuggle
Author: LMX
Fandom: Angel the Series
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Wes/Lilah (Wine), Darla/Dru (Snuggle)
Spoilers: All of Angel The Series, up to and including the finale
Warnings: Inaccurate timelines
Edit: Betaed by chokolattejedi, despite other far more important demands on time ;) Thank you hugely.
012. Candles (Faith, 210)
There was a soft, sweet scent rising as the flame started to eat at the wax. Something decidedly feminine that made her wrinkle her nose, but appreciate what was coming next all the more. She waited for the wax to be ready, fluid, and then picked up the candle delicately. Some of the wax escaped and rolled down her fingers, burning deliciously.
His eyes were huge and rolling in his head, making odd broken whimpering sounds behind the gag. They'd graduated past his answering questions and now she was just enjoying herself. She took her time in untying his hands from behind his back and taping them, palms up, on the chair arms.
"I have to say, I'm appreciating the... what is that, lavender?" she chuckled easily. "I'm feeling more relaxed already, what about you?"
A glare answered her question, and she laughed.
"Well you certainly aren't relaxed," she mused. "Maybe if I brought them a bit closer?"
She balanced the candle carefully in the palm of one of his hands and then moved to light the second one and did the same. They both watched, breathless, as the wax started to melt, each new touch of hot wax on sensitive skin bringing jerks and whines of pain.
Faith smiled.
043. Wine (Wes/Lilah, 297)
Her hand rests on the stem of the wine glass delicately, the other sweeping ostentatiously as she tells her story.
He shouldn't be watching. He's not even sharing a table with her, the story isn't for him and she probably isn't even aware he's there. But her hands are entrancing.
The wine sloshes a little and she blushes at her own enthusiasm. He wonders if the blush is part of the act, whether the companion for the night is a client she's there to impress. She doesn't seem like the type to blush off-hand like that. Maybe she's drunk more than half a glass of wine. Maybe he's a boyfriend and she doesn't have to be the cold, hard, strong woman they've come to know when she's with him.
The thought gives him an unexpected surge of jealousy. He doesn't have any right to her. Before tonight he wouldn't have said he even had any interest. But in this moment, with wine swirling ruby red in her glass...
She leaves with the other man, and he lingers so that he doesn't have to see them kiss in the carpark. When he finally emerges she's leaning against the side of his car, smirking broadly.
"Are you stalking me, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?" she asks, only a little gleefully. She hasn't put back on her mask of cold indifference and it's strangely liberating.
"You are leaning against *my* car," he points out blandly.
She steps forwards into his space and trails a delicate hand up his neck, brushing over the scars there. He resists the urge to back away, to make himself look week, but lets himself imagine those hands around a wine glass stem.
"Want to drive me to your house?" she whispers in his ear.
Breathless, he unlocks his car.
062. Darkness (Unidentified, 171)
Stood still in the darkness, breathing lightly and tentatively so that she could hear everything that was going on around her, she still didn't hear his approach.
She shivered from her core when his hand rested lightly on her shoulder and then slid around to the base of her neck, bringing his body tight in behind hers and his cheek onto the opposite shoulder.
He wasn't warm at her back, just as night-chilled as she was, but she could feel his breath on her skin as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.
His hand tightened, tipping her head to one side and exposing her neck, and he pressed his lips to her skin, inhaling deeply.
They froze there for a moment, both breathless, and then a handful of notes was pushed into her hand and he disappeared. She knew that if she turned around she wouldn't see him. She's not meant to see him.
She called out, "See you next time, Angel," but she wasn't sure if he heard.
079. Snuggle (Darla/Dru, 379)
They don't do this often - it's generally Angelus and William who demand their time so aggressively - but from time to time Darla will find a pause where she is with Drusilla, alone, and can enjoy her happily bizarre company.
Tonight - rather this morning - the boys are caught up in some frivolity in town and so they are alone and rather weary after their own night's pleasures. The boy Drusilla had chosen - rather earthy to the tongue if Darla had to comment - had long since stopped moving and was cooling in the corner while Drusilla waltzed to the song in her head. She was humming Ladybug Ladybug to herself, furtling around in the cupboards as if she was expecting to overturn baby Ann.
"Come lay with me," Darla ordered with a languorous yawn. "Dawn's breaking. The boys won't be back today."
Drusilla span on a sixpence, eyes wide and gleeful as she clasped her hands in front of her. "Oh grandma-ma, we could huddle and cuddle together under the blankets!" she exclaimed.
"No more 'grandma-ma'," Darla chided. "You make me feel I have aged a century rather than revelled in it."
Chastised, Druscilla's eyes welled with tears and Darla sighed.
"Come here," she demanded again, and Drusilla scurried to her side, almost tripping over her skirts in her hurry. Slowly, she helped Druscilla slip out of the excessive skirts and corset and allowed her to help with her own disrobing in return. When they were both down to slips and petticoats they collapsed together onto the bed they had taken the boy from.
They settled together, Darla's hand resting on Drusilla's stomach, and Drusilla holding that hand in both of hers, humming snippets of rhymes that made no sense, incomplete. Their hands entangled carefully and then less so as Drusilla tugged sharply.
"Rest now," Darla soothed.
"I can taste the horses on my tongue," Drusilla giggled back. "Oh, she shall have music wherever she goes!"
"I told you the taste would linger," Darla muttered into her hair. "Maybe that will teach you to snack between meals."
"Your skin is fluttery," Drusilla observed quietly, drawing her fingertip over Darla's eyelashes.
"Sleep."
"Goodnight, Grandma-ma."
Quietly charmed, Darla pulled her closer and fell into sleep.