Everyone's Entitled to a Few (1/1)
Title: Everyone's Entitled to a Few
Part: 1 of 1
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word Count: 498
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through Season 4 of BSG, Season 6 of Buffy
Characters: Galen Tyrol/Willow Rosenberg
Excerpt: They were sitting at a table in the light of day, when everything felt less real than it does now, and so he flirted with her as a whim - as a rebellion - and reality reformed itself when she reached to grab his wrist and winked.
Author's Note: Written for bsg-pornbattle (prompts: unlucky in love, cute), originally posted there.
At first he thought it was nonsense; "I'm a witch," she said, all cute red hair and a smile sweet as sunlight. Now that he's felt the burn of her lips on his and seen the smoke in her eyes, he knows better. He believes.
He whispers her name along the curve of her ear, Willow, Willow, and the way she catches his arms is frantic - desperate - and somehow, steadying.
"I lost someone," she tells him hoarsely, and closes her eyes. It's as if she's afraid lasers will shoot from her pupils, magic and electrified by pain. He strokes the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, once, twice, and Willow sighs like her bones are resettling inside of her.
"Me, too," he says. She nods, and her eyes are shut still against her smile.
He licks at her collarbones and the chain of her necklace tastes like blood against his tongue. She takes his hand and presses it to her thigh, hiking up her miniskirt, and he feels the dig of her boots into the ground as she thrusts her hips against his.
"Never done this before," she tells him, gripping his face between her hands and suddenly grinning. "Last time I was with a guy, I was too young to stay out this late. Or wear boots this skanky."
He laughs softly. "It's my lucky day," he murmurs, holding her waist, moving his hand to cup one perky breast in his palm.
"Everyone's entitled to a few," she allows, and it's adorable the way she watches him watching her as she shifts into his touch.
Her deft fingers move to his shoulders, and then down; she's unbuttoning his trousers and he never would have believed, had she not told him, that for her being a witch meant making love with girls.
(They were sitting at a table in the light of day, when everything felt less real than it does now, and so he flirted with her as a whim - as a rebellion - and reality reformed itself when she reached to grab his wrist and winked. Boys don't count.)
He brings his hand back underneath her skirt, smooths his fingers slowly over the fuzz of her hair, and presses his thumb to match the beating pulse below her skin. She lets out tiny, lovely gasps that melt like sugar into his neck, and slides around him like the break of day.
They take their time. It's an impossible evening in a crash of worlds that makes no sense; and Willow the witch is entirely new, sucking the sweat from his body and diluting the bitter tang that grips his heart. When she arches back, he catches a flash of her hair and the line of her neck before he loses it too. Galen bites down so hard on his lip he tastes copper and iron again, but when he comes to she's holding his hands against her sides.
Their fingers twine together, and the stars come out.
Part: 1 of 1
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word Count: 498
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through Season 4 of BSG, Season 6 of Buffy
Characters: Galen Tyrol/Willow Rosenberg
Excerpt: They were sitting at a table in the light of day, when everything felt less real than it does now, and so he flirted with her as a whim - as a rebellion - and reality reformed itself when she reached to grab his wrist and winked.
Author's Note: Written for bsg-pornbattle (prompts: unlucky in love, cute), originally posted there.
At first he thought it was nonsense; "I'm a witch," she said, all cute red hair and a smile sweet as sunlight. Now that he's felt the burn of her lips on his and seen the smoke in her eyes, he knows better. He believes.
He whispers her name along the curve of her ear, Willow, Willow, and the way she catches his arms is frantic - desperate - and somehow, steadying.
"I lost someone," she tells him hoarsely, and closes her eyes. It's as if she's afraid lasers will shoot from her pupils, magic and electrified by pain. He strokes the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, once, twice, and Willow sighs like her bones are resettling inside of her.
"Me, too," he says. She nods, and her eyes are shut still against her smile.
He licks at her collarbones and the chain of her necklace tastes like blood against his tongue. She takes his hand and presses it to her thigh, hiking up her miniskirt, and he feels the dig of her boots into the ground as she thrusts her hips against his.
"Never done this before," she tells him, gripping his face between her hands and suddenly grinning. "Last time I was with a guy, I was too young to stay out this late. Or wear boots this skanky."
He laughs softly. "It's my lucky day," he murmurs, holding her waist, moving his hand to cup one perky breast in his palm.
"Everyone's entitled to a few," she allows, and it's adorable the way she watches him watching her as she shifts into his touch.
Her deft fingers move to his shoulders, and then down; she's unbuttoning his trousers and he never would have believed, had she not told him, that for her being a witch meant making love with girls.
(They were sitting at a table in the light of day, when everything felt less real than it does now, and so he flirted with her as a whim - as a rebellion - and reality reformed itself when she reached to grab his wrist and winked. Boys don't count.)
He brings his hand back underneath her skirt, smooths his fingers slowly over the fuzz of her hair, and presses his thumb to match the beating pulse below her skin. She lets out tiny, lovely gasps that melt like sugar into his neck, and slides around him like the break of day.
They take their time. It's an impossible evening in a crash of worlds that makes no sense; and Willow the witch is entirely new, sucking the sweat from his body and diluting the bitter tang that grips his heart. When she arches back, he catches a flash of her hair and the line of her neck before he loses it too. Galen bites down so hard on his lip he tastes copper and iron again, but when he comes to she's holding his hands against her sides.
Their fingers twine together, and the stars come out.