Doom, Domesticated, or: Joyful Mysteries. AtS ff, 5/5
JOYFUL MYSTERIES
Fifth Mystery: Finding of the Children at the Temple
Warnings: Tentacle!kink, fluff, children.
This part is ~1500 words of fluff of the Illyria/Faith/Wesley variety, with appearances by the other threesome
Still dedicated to girlupnorth, also known as The Enabler, who thought up the title for this. This is the final part, although a coda of some sort might follow.
Finding of the Children at the Temple
He woke up at eight sharp. The house was quiet apart from two breaths besides his own: that unnerved him.
They were never all still asleep at this hour.
He stepped down from the bed and tip-toed out of the room, closing the door behind himself quietly. Illyria’s blue hair was strewn across the pillows next to Faith’s shorter dark brown; he smiled at the sight of them sleeping so peacefully.
His daughters’ rooms were empty. He felt panic shoot through him momentarily, before he remembered.
Sleepover. They were all away.
He’d been reluctant to let them all spend the night at Slayer Headquarters, but the quadruplets - especially Sophia and Pia - had been relentless, and when Faith took their side, and Illyria expressed her disappointment with Wesley’s smothering parenting technique, he stopped painting doom and gloom scenarios and let the children go.
They were six, looked about twelve and, between three parents, were spoilt to the very bone, if not the marrow that bone contained.
He took the time to walk around Pia’s room slowly. The walls were adorned with assorted weaponry and pictures of Pia and Sophia playing “Slayers and Vamps” with uncle Spike. Ever since they accidentally staked him through the liver, luckily missing the heart by a large margin, they were only allowed to do that with plastic weaponry. Buffy threatened bodily harm should either love of her life be dusted, and if she ever slapped one of their daughters, Illyria just might remember about brimstone and fire being customary signs of God’s wrath in this particular region.
The ringing phone stopped his reverie, sending him running to pick up before it woke up one cranky Slayer and one offended God-King.
He picked up on the third signal.
“Wyndham-Pryce speaking, who is this?” he coughed out.
“Hi daddy.”
“Hello darling.”
Téa’s voice sounded a little sleepy; her and Louise liked to lie in most days, unlike Sophia, who would gladly wake everyone up at the crack of dawn.
“Louise said she sensed your anxiety at our geographical displacement.”
Téa was a bookworm to put Wesley to shame. He was bursting with pride.
“I woke up and got a little bit upset before I remembered where you are.”
“Mums are asleep?”
“Yeah.”
There was noise in the background; he was almost sure he could hear Andrew’s shrieks.
“Are you girls all being good?” he asked, without any actual hope to hear the affirmative.
“Louise is playing at human sacrifice again,” Téa admitted, uncertainly, “but she’s really careful not to draw blood this time.”
“That’s something.”
“Soph and Pia went hunting for demons with a whole squad, but aunt Dawn says there are no scary demons in the area and it’s just going to be some running and maybe they’ll see a deer in the forest.”
“And how are you doing?”
“Uncle Andrew showed me some cool books before Louise requested that he lay down his life for her eternal glory.”
“So you are having fun? We don’t need to come and pick you up early?”
She giggled.
“Mums are right, you’re overprotective and clingy. You’ll tell them I said hi?”
“I will.”
The bed was warm and welcoming, and they had the house to themselves for the first time in a very, very long time. He fell asleep the moment he crawled back under the covers.
*~*~*
His second awakening that day was more pleasant.
Faith’s smell surrounded him; her hair tickled his nose and he sneezed, making her chuckle.
“Morning,” he muttered to her smiling face, as she came closer to him.
“Morning yourself,” she whispered right into his ear.
He kissed her, first tentatively, then more decisively, her tongue and lips almost as familiar to him as his own; she responded by running her hands up and down his arms, pressing herself closer, then raising a hand to stroke his cheek. She moved her head back to look at him.
“Ex-con stubble,” she said, and he smiled before tilting his head to kiss her palm.
Illyria was waking up; Faith turned to her other side to greet her properly, trailing small kisses down the side of her jaw, while her hand moved to stroke Illyria’s breasts under the covers.
Illyria’s greeting was halfway between a moan and a “hello”.
Wesley tried to embrace Faith from the behind, his hands stroking her breasts from the sides, but Faith turned back to face him, her expression of decisiveness somewhat disturbed by the yawn that interrupted her.
“Fuck me like this,” she said, spreading her legs wider.
Moving together felt as natural as breathing, but there was never anything natural about the sensation of Illyria’s true form, moving together with them, penetrating both of them from the behind, heightening every sensation. She entered and surrounded them, her tentacles stroking their sides and backs, thrusting, gliding and embracing.
“Oh… yes…” Faith moaned, and he stifled the impulse to worry about the noise, and its potential to lead to another embarrassing conversation about human sexuality and origins of pregnancies (usually, and in their specific case).
All three came seconds apart, and remained embraced for a while before Illyria reverted to human shape, and Faith kicked him out of bed, demanding that breakfast be brought to her, pronto.
Home alone or not, he got dressed right down to socks and a good shirt before he busied himself with tea and scones. By the time he got back, they were going at it again, Illyria on top of Faith, their fingers deep in each others cunt. This time he did feel ever the tiniest bit old, but it didn’t really bother him as much as he would have expected.
*~*~*
That day was marked by four more phone calls from the headquarters; the first one came from Buffy, whose serious voice almost gave him a heart attack before she explained that the reason behind her calling was not that one - or all - of the children participated in some homicidal plan against one of her spouses (he’d explained the idea of the redemptive power of souls to them a thousand times, and they remembered about rubber stakes, but you never knew when uncle Angel would switch these for real wood in a jealous or simply depressed fit): she was just apologizing in advance for any bad influence uncle Spike was exerting over his children. The second one was from Angel, asking permission to keep the girls up past their bedtime to go out to the cinema with them; Wesley was enthusiastic about any and all children-appropriate activities that would result in the girls coming home as exhausted as possible, and neither Illyria nor Faith were fans of sheltered upbringing. The third call was Louise, requesting to be allowed to banish her sisters into oblivion for spilling juice on her holy iPod. Faith promised her that justice would be meted out at home, and warned that banishing would be most severely punished.
“That’s so unfair,” Louise complained. “It’s almost as bad as when you said I can’t alter time when we play tag.”
That last law had been instituted once Sophia and Pia flat-out refused to play anymore, and Téa drafted a letter, explaining in detail how “manipulations of dimensional nature” simply “rendered the playground uneven to the point of making the game nonsensical”.
During dinner - which was, up until a point, a quiet and organized affair, Faith’s talking excluded - Illyria disappeared for a couple of minutes, mid-bite; upon return, she said that she grew uneasy about her ignorance of their progeny’s current state.
“You checked on them,” Faith repeated, adoringly.
“They are all most satisfied with spending time with the vampires and Slayers. They don’t seem to require our assistance at all at this moment.”
“They’ll miss us by tomorrow,” Wesley assured her.
The fourth phone call came late in the evening, when Pia requested that mummies and daddy talk to them before bed. In the end, they took a portal and tucked the girls in; their daughters were kind enough to pretend that it’s for their sake and not the parents’.
They stayed the night at the castle, too, and returned home together, all seven of them. The girls’ goodbyes to the vampire uncles took a long while, and Louise looked a little violet, as though she was blushing under the blue.
“It’s probably too much to hope they’ll all turn out to be lesbians,” Wesley whispered to Faith, who nodded her head in agreement.
“I think adolescent boys loom in the near future,” she agreed, sadly.
Later, they would explain to Illyria about the not killing of little male buggers over her daughters’ potential heartbreaks, and there would be dinner to be had and laundry to be done, but for now, they stepped through the portal to go back home, Illyria leading the way, four blue girls following her, Wesley and Faith guarding the rear.
Fifth Mystery: Finding of the Children at the Temple
Warnings: Tentacle!kink, fluff, children.
This part is ~1500 words of fluff of the Illyria/Faith/Wesley variety, with appearances by the other threesome
Still dedicated to girlupnorth, also known as The Enabler, who thought up the title for this. This is the final part, although a coda of some sort might follow.
Finding of the Children at the Temple
He woke up at eight sharp. The house was quiet apart from two breaths besides his own: that unnerved him.
They were never all still asleep at this hour.
He stepped down from the bed and tip-toed out of the room, closing the door behind himself quietly. Illyria’s blue hair was strewn across the pillows next to Faith’s shorter dark brown; he smiled at the sight of them sleeping so peacefully.
His daughters’ rooms were empty. He felt panic shoot through him momentarily, before he remembered.
Sleepover. They were all away.
He’d been reluctant to let them all spend the night at Slayer Headquarters, but the quadruplets - especially Sophia and Pia - had been relentless, and when Faith took their side, and Illyria expressed her disappointment with Wesley’s smothering parenting technique, he stopped painting doom and gloom scenarios and let the children go.
They were six, looked about twelve and, between three parents, were spoilt to the very bone, if not the marrow that bone contained.
He took the time to walk around Pia’s room slowly. The walls were adorned with assorted weaponry and pictures of Pia and Sophia playing “Slayers and Vamps” with uncle Spike. Ever since they accidentally staked him through the liver, luckily missing the heart by a large margin, they were only allowed to do that with plastic weaponry. Buffy threatened bodily harm should either love of her life be dusted, and if she ever slapped one of their daughters, Illyria just might remember about brimstone and fire being customary signs of God’s wrath in this particular region.
The ringing phone stopped his reverie, sending him running to pick up before it woke up one cranky Slayer and one offended God-King.
He picked up on the third signal.
“Wyndham-Pryce speaking, who is this?” he coughed out.
“Hi daddy.”
“Hello darling.”
Téa’s voice sounded a little sleepy; her and Louise liked to lie in most days, unlike Sophia, who would gladly wake everyone up at the crack of dawn.
“Louise said she sensed your anxiety at our geographical displacement.”
Téa was a bookworm to put Wesley to shame. He was bursting with pride.
“I woke up and got a little bit upset before I remembered where you are.”
“Mums are asleep?”
“Yeah.”
There was noise in the background; he was almost sure he could hear Andrew’s shrieks.
“Are you girls all being good?” he asked, without any actual hope to hear the affirmative.
“Louise is playing at human sacrifice again,” Téa admitted, uncertainly, “but she’s really careful not to draw blood this time.”
“That’s something.”
“Soph and Pia went hunting for demons with a whole squad, but aunt Dawn says there are no scary demons in the area and it’s just going to be some running and maybe they’ll see a deer in the forest.”
“And how are you doing?”
“Uncle Andrew showed me some cool books before Louise requested that he lay down his life for her eternal glory.”
“So you are having fun? We don’t need to come and pick you up early?”
She giggled.
“Mums are right, you’re overprotective and clingy. You’ll tell them I said hi?”
“I will.”
The bed was warm and welcoming, and they had the house to themselves for the first time in a very, very long time. He fell asleep the moment he crawled back under the covers.
*~*~*
His second awakening that day was more pleasant.
Faith’s smell surrounded him; her hair tickled his nose and he sneezed, making her chuckle.
“Morning,” he muttered to her smiling face, as she came closer to him.
“Morning yourself,” she whispered right into his ear.
He kissed her, first tentatively, then more decisively, her tongue and lips almost as familiar to him as his own; she responded by running her hands up and down his arms, pressing herself closer, then raising a hand to stroke his cheek. She moved her head back to look at him.
“Ex-con stubble,” she said, and he smiled before tilting his head to kiss her palm.
Illyria was waking up; Faith turned to her other side to greet her properly, trailing small kisses down the side of her jaw, while her hand moved to stroke Illyria’s breasts under the covers.
Illyria’s greeting was halfway between a moan and a “hello”.
Wesley tried to embrace Faith from the behind, his hands stroking her breasts from the sides, but Faith turned back to face him, her expression of decisiveness somewhat disturbed by the yawn that interrupted her.
“Fuck me like this,” she said, spreading her legs wider.
Moving together felt as natural as breathing, but there was never anything natural about the sensation of Illyria’s true form, moving together with them, penetrating both of them from the behind, heightening every sensation. She entered and surrounded them, her tentacles stroking their sides and backs, thrusting, gliding and embracing.
“Oh… yes…” Faith moaned, and he stifled the impulse to worry about the noise, and its potential to lead to another embarrassing conversation about human sexuality and origins of pregnancies (usually, and in their specific case).
All three came seconds apart, and remained embraced for a while before Illyria reverted to human shape, and Faith kicked him out of bed, demanding that breakfast be brought to her, pronto.
Home alone or not, he got dressed right down to socks and a good shirt before he busied himself with tea and scones. By the time he got back, they were going at it again, Illyria on top of Faith, their fingers deep in each others cunt. This time he did feel ever the tiniest bit old, but it didn’t really bother him as much as he would have expected.
*~*~*
That day was marked by four more phone calls from the headquarters; the first one came from Buffy, whose serious voice almost gave him a heart attack before she explained that the reason behind her calling was not that one - or all - of the children participated in some homicidal plan against one of her spouses (he’d explained the idea of the redemptive power of souls to them a thousand times, and they remembered about rubber stakes, but you never knew when uncle Angel would switch these for real wood in a jealous or simply depressed fit): she was just apologizing in advance for any bad influence uncle Spike was exerting over his children. The second one was from Angel, asking permission to keep the girls up past their bedtime to go out to the cinema with them; Wesley was enthusiastic about any and all children-appropriate activities that would result in the girls coming home as exhausted as possible, and neither Illyria nor Faith were fans of sheltered upbringing. The third call was Louise, requesting to be allowed to banish her sisters into oblivion for spilling juice on her holy iPod. Faith promised her that justice would be meted out at home, and warned that banishing would be most severely punished.
“That’s so unfair,” Louise complained. “It’s almost as bad as when you said I can’t alter time when we play tag.”
That last law had been instituted once Sophia and Pia flat-out refused to play anymore, and Téa drafted a letter, explaining in detail how “manipulations of dimensional nature” simply “rendered the playground uneven to the point of making the game nonsensical”.
During dinner - which was, up until a point, a quiet and organized affair, Faith’s talking excluded - Illyria disappeared for a couple of minutes, mid-bite; upon return, she said that she grew uneasy about her ignorance of their progeny’s current state.
“You checked on them,” Faith repeated, adoringly.
“They are all most satisfied with spending time with the vampires and Slayers. They don’t seem to require our assistance at all at this moment.”
“They’ll miss us by tomorrow,” Wesley assured her.
The fourth phone call came late in the evening, when Pia requested that mummies and daddy talk to them before bed. In the end, they took a portal and tucked the girls in; their daughters were kind enough to pretend that it’s for their sake and not the parents’.
They stayed the night at the castle, too, and returned home together, all seven of them. The girls’ goodbyes to the vampire uncles took a long while, and Louise looked a little violet, as though she was blushing under the blue.
“It’s probably too much to hope they’ll all turn out to be lesbians,” Wesley whispered to Faith, who nodded her head in agreement.
“I think adolescent boys loom in the near future,” she agreed, sadly.
Later, they would explain to Illyria about the not killing of little male buggers over her daughters’ potential heartbreaks, and there would be dinner to be had and laundry to be done, but for now, they stepped through the portal to go back home, Illyria leading the way, four blue girls following her, Wesley and Faith guarding the rear.