FIC: Kinds of Blood (VampWillow/Faith) Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Title: Kinds of Blood
Author: rysler
Recipient: taskir, for femslash06.
Fandom: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Vampire Willow / Faith
Rating: Mature (Vampire Sex, Bad Language)
Notes: "The Wish" Universe. 1,500 words.
Summary: She was decked out like sadomasochism's rejected nightmare, and Faith didn't need to smell the decay on her. Vampires couldn't be more obvious.
* * *
"Please," the British voice had said on the phone. "Come to Sunnydale. We need a Slayer."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Faith had said. Only the alluring accent kept her from hanging up the phone. Still, he was selling something. They were always selling something she couldn't afford to buy.
"Only you can stem the tide of dark forces--"
Faith put her head in her hand. "Oh, stop it. I like it here. Sunnydale is on a Hellmouth. No one needs to be down there. Just let them have it. Let the sun never shine again, or whatever will happen in your little world. I have better things to do than save your sorry ass."
"And what do you think will happen when they kill everyone in Sunnydale? The population is barely self-sustaining as it is. The vampires will get hungry. They'll move east."
Faith sighed.
"This is about survival, Faith. Your survival."
She'd hung up on the British guy, but she'd packed her duffel and hitched a ride. Boston was getting old. Boston was getting easy. She needed a challenge. She needed to kill. Her blood coursed with the desire for more blood, and if she stayed, she'd end up killing the wrong person, and then the government would kill her. Time to run.
* * *
Sunnydale was as silent as death two hours after sunset. Her transport, a trucker on his way to Los Angeles, left her at the highway, and she walked the three miles into town. As she reached the edge of town, she picked up a scent, sickly sweet and human; fear.
Pounding bass that she felt first under her feet, and then through her body, and then finally heard, drew her to a bright, cheerful, deadly club. "The Bronze," she read over the doorway. In there, she thought, she would find what she was looking for. A nest of vampires that could smell her kind. No matter. She didn't smell like fear, and she didn't smell like Sunnydale.
Maybe she could pass for a demon from out of town.
This was her big plan -- Let them smell her. Filled with confidence, she entered the tavern. The smell inside was worse. Bodies--alive--hung from the walls, naked and covered with puncture marks, some hooked up to tubes and machines. Incense and candles burned everywhere. Faith stood at the door, letting the noxious smoke wash over her and camouflage her. She tried not to look at the bodies. Even a Southie's stomach had limits.
She settled in at the bar. People played pool and drank and danced. The bartender ignored her, but she hadn't been staring at his horns for longer than ten seconds when a girl slid onto the stool next to her.
"Hi," said the girl.
Faith assumed this girl was the welcome wagon. Not high enough up on the food chain not to be expendable, but someone smart enough to determine friend or foe, threat or playmate. The girl's eyes were wide with mischief and delight, and Faith couldn't quite determine what the girl hoped she'd be.
"Hi," Faith said. "I'm Faith."
The girl laughed. "Are Hope and Charity right outside? Did you ride in on a pink unicorn?"
Pink unicorn? Faith ignored her question. "And you are?"
The girl laughed. She wore black lipstick -- the color of dried blood. Or maybe it was actually dried blood. The rest of her was gothed out in leather and velvet, with a red lace edging around her bust that clashed with her orange hair. Faith wanted to point out the tackiness. The girl was decked out like sadomasochism's rejected nightmare, and Faith didn't need to smell the decay on her. Vampires couldn't be more obvious.
"I'm Willow," the girl said.
Faith raised an eyebrow. "Like the tree?"
"Yes, the tree." Willow waved her hand. "Willow Rosenberg. My parents wanted me to be Jewish. As if they didn't know that it all comes from blood. The body, the sacrifice..." Willow cast a meaningful glance at the humans hanging from wall. "Whatever."
"Deep," Faith ventured.
Willow laughed, cruelly. "You care as much as I do. I can tell. You want something new. Same old vampires and their family histories and their secret cabals. Same old puny humans. Even with their guns. Like bullets hurt. I'm just so... bored."
Faith thought of Boston and the straggling demons who couldn't even fight off the street gangs anymore. Show up in town, poof, they're gone. No hunt, no blood. She looked into Willow's beady, yellow eye. "I completely understand."
Willow smiled.
Faith looked into that smile and felt fear. The good fear, the kind that beckoned her toward the evil, because she wanted to see just a little more of it. She smiled back at Willow.
Willow licked her lips. She brushed Faith's shoulder with long-nailed fingers, felt the leather jacket sleeve, and the curve of muscle underneath. "I can see that you do. Would you like to go hunting?"
Faith stood from the barstool, never taking her eyes of Willow. "I'm done hunting."
Willow's nails dug into her arm. Pain shot through Faith's body, touching off sparks in the nerve endings of her fingers and toes and igniting a throbbing between her legs. Lust was always better when there was a chance of dying.
The pain twisted Faith's smile. She reached up with her unmangled arm to touch Willow's neck, where her skin was as white and cold as the bone underneath. Willow's hand slid down her arm, stroking the leather, and then clasped her fingers.
Willow led her out of the bar and into an alleyway. She marveled at how gentle Willow was, leading her, like a spider carrying its incest cocoon over to be tenderly pricked and drained. It made her wonder what Willow had been like before being bitten. Soft? But there was too much makeup, too much vinyl, too much dried blood and cold flesh and cruelty in her demon eyes to even begin to see.
Outside, the warm summer air washed away the incense and death, and Willow sniffed the air. Faith pushed her against a brick wall. Willow didn't even try to resist. "You're human," she purred.
"Yes." Faith squeezed her shoulders, and leaned closer, until she only had to whisper in Willow's ear. "Does that excite you?"
Willow hissed. Faith saw the change in her face, the vampire reacting to the pulsing heart so close to her own. Forehead and fangs protruded, and Willow licked each ivory white point. "Yes."
Faith shoved her leg between Willow's thighs, grinding into her center. Willow threw her head back and howled, an undead, happy sound that filled Faith's ears as she pressed herself against buckles and vinyl and hoped that Willow would use her nails again, so she could feel it in her clit, wear the marks of triumph red and burning on her skin. Doing a vampire, she thought, was the ultimate high.
Willow mauled her breasts, gouged her back, and finally kissed her. Faith greeted Willow's cold, seeking tongue with her own, and then pushed past it, tasting pointed teeth and the old blood on Willow's mouth. She moaned as Willow's hand found her ass, and grunted, shoving Willow against the wall, rubbing harder against her body.
"God, you're so alive," purred Willow through the kiss. "It's so intoxicating... To feel someone who isn't half-dead already. Or wanting to be. Somebody always wanting something. At least I like what you want." She wrapped her free arm around Faith's head, trapping her, and bit.
The pain exploded in Faith's mind and mouth and clit, and she came, sagging against Willow, letting Willow hold her and drink up her orgasm. She tasted her own blood, coursing from her split lip and into Willow's mouth. Willow sucked, and then moaned, and in her own distracted bliss, didn't feel Faith's hands coming up to encircle her neck.
"And now, dessert," said Willow, smiling with carnal satisfaction as fresh blood shined at the corner of her cheek. "You didn't really want to be human anyway, did you? Who would?"
Faith squeezed her neck. "I could snap you right now. Leave you a dangling pile of bones for the time it would take to light you on fire."
"Where would be the fun in that?" Willow pouted.
Faith smiled and let her go.
"Maybe next time."
Willow tilted her head, and when she spoke, her fangs flashed. "I'll be hungry for you." She licked Faith's blood off her lips, shrugged, and walked past her into the Bronze.
Faith rested against the wall, and arched her neck to see the night sky. Her first encounter with a vampire in Sunnydale. It would only get better, when they found out she was the Slayer, when they began their hunt, when the boredom would begin to make them creative. She pushed off the wall. She had all night to see the rest of the town.
She walked down main street. Heat from several buildings on fire washed over her face. The citizens were trying to burn out the demons. The demons were trying to burn the people into the streets. The British guy had mentioned armaments. Machine guns and stakes and holy water and pestilence and famine and war.
This was Hell.
Faith knew she'd be happy here.
Author: rysler
Recipient: taskir, for femslash06.
Fandom: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Vampire Willow / Faith
Rating: Mature (Vampire Sex, Bad Language)
Notes: "The Wish" Universe. 1,500 words.
Summary: She was decked out like sadomasochism's rejected nightmare, and Faith didn't need to smell the decay on her. Vampires couldn't be more obvious.
* * *
"Please," the British voice had said on the phone. "Come to Sunnydale. We need a Slayer."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Faith had said. Only the alluring accent kept her from hanging up the phone. Still, he was selling something. They were always selling something she couldn't afford to buy.
"Only you can stem the tide of dark forces--"
Faith put her head in her hand. "Oh, stop it. I like it here. Sunnydale is on a Hellmouth. No one needs to be down there. Just let them have it. Let the sun never shine again, or whatever will happen in your little world. I have better things to do than save your sorry ass."
"And what do you think will happen when they kill everyone in Sunnydale? The population is barely self-sustaining as it is. The vampires will get hungry. They'll move east."
Faith sighed.
"This is about survival, Faith. Your survival."
She'd hung up on the British guy, but she'd packed her duffel and hitched a ride. Boston was getting old. Boston was getting easy. She needed a challenge. She needed to kill. Her blood coursed with the desire for more blood, and if she stayed, she'd end up killing the wrong person, and then the government would kill her. Time to run.
* * *
Sunnydale was as silent as death two hours after sunset. Her transport, a trucker on his way to Los Angeles, left her at the highway, and she walked the three miles into town. As she reached the edge of town, she picked up a scent, sickly sweet and human; fear.
Pounding bass that she felt first under her feet, and then through her body, and then finally heard, drew her to a bright, cheerful, deadly club. "The Bronze," she read over the doorway. In there, she thought, she would find what she was looking for. A nest of vampires that could smell her kind. No matter. She didn't smell like fear, and she didn't smell like Sunnydale.
Maybe she could pass for a demon from out of town.
This was her big plan -- Let them smell her. Filled with confidence, she entered the tavern. The smell inside was worse. Bodies--alive--hung from the walls, naked and covered with puncture marks, some hooked up to tubes and machines. Incense and candles burned everywhere. Faith stood at the door, letting the noxious smoke wash over her and camouflage her. She tried not to look at the bodies. Even a Southie's stomach had limits.
She settled in at the bar. People played pool and drank and danced. The bartender ignored her, but she hadn't been staring at his horns for longer than ten seconds when a girl slid onto the stool next to her.
"Hi," said the girl.
Faith assumed this girl was the welcome wagon. Not high enough up on the food chain not to be expendable, but someone smart enough to determine friend or foe, threat or playmate. The girl's eyes were wide with mischief and delight, and Faith couldn't quite determine what the girl hoped she'd be.
"Hi," Faith said. "I'm Faith."
The girl laughed. "Are Hope and Charity right outside? Did you ride in on a pink unicorn?"
Pink unicorn? Faith ignored her question. "And you are?"
The girl laughed. She wore black lipstick -- the color of dried blood. Or maybe it was actually dried blood. The rest of her was gothed out in leather and velvet, with a red lace edging around her bust that clashed with her orange hair. Faith wanted to point out the tackiness. The girl was decked out like sadomasochism's rejected nightmare, and Faith didn't need to smell the decay on her. Vampires couldn't be more obvious.
"I'm Willow," the girl said.
Faith raised an eyebrow. "Like the tree?"
"Yes, the tree." Willow waved her hand. "Willow Rosenberg. My parents wanted me to be Jewish. As if they didn't know that it all comes from blood. The body, the sacrifice..." Willow cast a meaningful glance at the humans hanging from wall. "Whatever."
"Deep," Faith ventured.
Willow laughed, cruelly. "You care as much as I do. I can tell. You want something new. Same old vampires and their family histories and their secret cabals. Same old puny humans. Even with their guns. Like bullets hurt. I'm just so... bored."
Faith thought of Boston and the straggling demons who couldn't even fight off the street gangs anymore. Show up in town, poof, they're gone. No hunt, no blood. She looked into Willow's beady, yellow eye. "I completely understand."
Willow smiled.
Faith looked into that smile and felt fear. The good fear, the kind that beckoned her toward the evil, because she wanted to see just a little more of it. She smiled back at Willow.
Willow licked her lips. She brushed Faith's shoulder with long-nailed fingers, felt the leather jacket sleeve, and the curve of muscle underneath. "I can see that you do. Would you like to go hunting?"
Faith stood from the barstool, never taking her eyes of Willow. "I'm done hunting."
Willow's nails dug into her arm. Pain shot through Faith's body, touching off sparks in the nerve endings of her fingers and toes and igniting a throbbing between her legs. Lust was always better when there was a chance of dying.
The pain twisted Faith's smile. She reached up with her unmangled arm to touch Willow's neck, where her skin was as white and cold as the bone underneath. Willow's hand slid down her arm, stroking the leather, and then clasped her fingers.
Willow led her out of the bar and into an alleyway. She marveled at how gentle Willow was, leading her, like a spider carrying its incest cocoon over to be tenderly pricked and drained. It made her wonder what Willow had been like before being bitten. Soft? But there was too much makeup, too much vinyl, too much dried blood and cold flesh and cruelty in her demon eyes to even begin to see.
Outside, the warm summer air washed away the incense and death, and Willow sniffed the air. Faith pushed her against a brick wall. Willow didn't even try to resist. "You're human," she purred.
"Yes." Faith squeezed her shoulders, and leaned closer, until she only had to whisper in Willow's ear. "Does that excite you?"
Willow hissed. Faith saw the change in her face, the vampire reacting to the pulsing heart so close to her own. Forehead and fangs protruded, and Willow licked each ivory white point. "Yes."
Faith shoved her leg between Willow's thighs, grinding into her center. Willow threw her head back and howled, an undead, happy sound that filled Faith's ears as she pressed herself against buckles and vinyl and hoped that Willow would use her nails again, so she could feel it in her clit, wear the marks of triumph red and burning on her skin. Doing a vampire, she thought, was the ultimate high.
Willow mauled her breasts, gouged her back, and finally kissed her. Faith greeted Willow's cold, seeking tongue with her own, and then pushed past it, tasting pointed teeth and the old blood on Willow's mouth. She moaned as Willow's hand found her ass, and grunted, shoving Willow against the wall, rubbing harder against her body.
"God, you're so alive," purred Willow through the kiss. "It's so intoxicating... To feel someone who isn't half-dead already. Or wanting to be. Somebody always wanting something. At least I like what you want." She wrapped her free arm around Faith's head, trapping her, and bit.
The pain exploded in Faith's mind and mouth and clit, and she came, sagging against Willow, letting Willow hold her and drink up her orgasm. She tasted her own blood, coursing from her split lip and into Willow's mouth. Willow sucked, and then moaned, and in her own distracted bliss, didn't feel Faith's hands coming up to encircle her neck.
"And now, dessert," said Willow, smiling with carnal satisfaction as fresh blood shined at the corner of her cheek. "You didn't really want to be human anyway, did you? Who would?"
Faith squeezed her neck. "I could snap you right now. Leave you a dangling pile of bones for the time it would take to light you on fire."
"Where would be the fun in that?" Willow pouted.
Faith smiled and let her go.
"Maybe next time."
Willow tilted her head, and when she spoke, her fangs flashed. "I'll be hungry for you." She licked Faith's blood off her lips, shrugged, and walked past her into the Bronze.
Faith rested against the wall, and arched her neck to see the night sky. Her first encounter with a vampire in Sunnydale. It would only get better, when they found out she was the Slayer, when they began their hunt, when the boredom would begin to make them creative. She pushed off the wall. She had all night to see the rest of the town.
She walked down main street. Heat from several buildings on fire washed over her face. The citizens were trying to burn out the demons. The demons were trying to burn the people into the streets. The British guy had mentioned armaments. Machine guns and stakes and holy water and pestilence and famine and war.
This was Hell.
Faith knew she'd be happy here.