Drabbling Christmas
Drabbling Christmas
Disclaimer: A full disclaimer can be found here, but please be assured that none of this is mine.
Rating: R
Summary: An unrelated collection of drables written as Christmas Cards in 2004.
Celebration for Cleez
Pizza, corn chips, chocolate, melted ice cream, empty beer bottles and a single champagne bottle sat in the middle of the table.
Tracks of chips led across the carpet, sharp edges catching along the bottom of his bare feet, causing him to hop across the floor, muttering curses under his breath. He could hear the sounds of his lover’s breath and moved carefully through the living room, progressing steadily toward the sound.
Xander lay underneath the Christmas tree, the colored lights creating patterns of chaos across his skin. Spike smiled and lay down beside him, staring up into the lights.
Coming for Bunnyohare
Their celebratory supper sat heavy in their stomachs as the trio approached the door. Willow’s face was drawn and ashy, the result of revisiting their feast throughout the night.
She knocked, ignoring the pained moans echoing from the two beside her. Buffy glared and Dawn groaned as they waited for the door to open.
“Come in!”
Relieved, they walked in the door, only to stop suddenly. “Yes, Spike! I’m coming!”
The three scampered out the door, hastily returning to their rooms, each carrying a single, perfect picture in her mind. Dark and light, warm and cool, sweat, blood, and beauty.
No Words for Willowschild
Paper flew across the room as squeals and kisses were exchanged. Dawn bounced around the room, lavishing everyone with attention, dropping beads over every color over blond, brunet and red heads.
“I can’t believe this!”
“Wow! I saw one of these last year!”
“You bought this for me?”
“Dawn! I thought I told you that you couldn’t buy that for them!”
And underneath all of this were the sounds of two lovers expressing desire, passion, gratitude and happiness. Expressions made without language, oblivious to the surrounding melee as their lips met gently, tongues twining softly and no words are spoken.
Forbidden Taste for Trauma16
Christmas is over, New Years has come and gone and only two remain.
Spike stretches his body along his partner’s, reveling in the warmth, the cinnamon-salt scent that belongs only to his love. Alone at last, they are free to indulge in pleasures that would not be understood, would not be forgiven.
Turning, fighting for dominance. Blunt teeth scrape across skin, leaving red trails across too pale flesh. Xander laps at the blood the swells from the wounds, finally sinking his all too human teeth into the delicate flesh of Spike’s inner thigh. He drinks deeply, drowning in his love.
The End
Disclaimer: A full disclaimer can be found here, but please be assured that none of this is mine.
Rating: R
Summary: An unrelated collection of drables written as Christmas Cards in 2004.
Celebration for Cleez
Pizza, corn chips, chocolate, melted ice cream, empty beer bottles and a single champagne bottle sat in the middle of the table.
Tracks of chips led across the carpet, sharp edges catching along the bottom of his bare feet, causing him to hop across the floor, muttering curses under his breath. He could hear the sounds of his lover’s breath and moved carefully through the living room, progressing steadily toward the sound.
Xander lay underneath the Christmas tree, the colored lights creating patterns of chaos across his skin. Spike smiled and lay down beside him, staring up into the lights.
Coming for Bunnyohare
Their celebratory supper sat heavy in their stomachs as the trio approached the door. Willow’s face was drawn and ashy, the result of revisiting their feast throughout the night.
She knocked, ignoring the pained moans echoing from the two beside her. Buffy glared and Dawn groaned as they waited for the door to open.
“Come in!”
Relieved, they walked in the door, only to stop suddenly. “Yes, Spike! I’m coming!”
The three scampered out the door, hastily returning to their rooms, each carrying a single, perfect picture in her mind. Dark and light, warm and cool, sweat, blood, and beauty.
No Words for Willowschild
Paper flew across the room as squeals and kisses were exchanged. Dawn bounced around the room, lavishing everyone with attention, dropping beads over every color over blond, brunet and red heads.
“I can’t believe this!”
“Wow! I saw one of these last year!”
“You bought this for me?”
“Dawn! I thought I told you that you couldn’t buy that for them!”
And underneath all of this were the sounds of two lovers expressing desire, passion, gratitude and happiness. Expressions made without language, oblivious to the surrounding melee as their lips met gently, tongues twining softly and no words are spoken.
Forbidden Taste for Trauma16
Christmas is over, New Years has come and gone and only two remain.
Spike stretches his body along his partner’s, reveling in the warmth, the cinnamon-salt scent that belongs only to his love. Alone at last, they are free to indulge in pleasures that would not be understood, would not be forgiven.
Turning, fighting for dominance. Blunt teeth scrape across skin, leaving red trails across too pale flesh. Xander laps at the blood the swells from the wounds, finally sinking his all too human teeth into the delicate flesh of Spike’s inner thigh. He drinks deeply, drowning in his love.
The End