For naotalba: Pirates of the Caribbean/Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Will Turner/Drusilla)
Title: Lullaby
Author: Pouncer
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Will Turner/Drusilla
Written For: naotalba
Wordcount: 300 (French kiss)
Author's Notes: With thanks to kuzibah for looking this over.
Pretty lights, swirly and flickery, and they want Drusilla to join them, so she does. The moon's a thin sliver and she can play hide and seek. Spike calls out, but her body's gone to taffy, pulled soft and sticky just like she did with Nana in the nursery.
Nana's blood tasted like blackberry jam.
Stretch and release and now the air smells of salt and dead fish, full moon glowing off cobbled streets.
"You found me!" she exclaims, delighted.
Her gown wafts around her ankles and her bare arms don't feel cold because the breeze is soft. It's traveled such a long way, and she follows its journey into an alley. Candles and lanterns flicker inside windows, whispering secrets.
They long for gold, and rum, and fine things from home.
"Miss, are you well?"
The boy's voice is soft, pleasant, and his hand blazes down her arm.
"You're like fire," she tells him, and inches closer.
"Were you aboard the Guernsey?" he asks, and cows walk past, clip-clop and bell-jangle.
"Milk sours," Drusilla tells this boy with thin lips and a wisp of a mustache. He's fresh and ripe for plucking. His lips should be swollen, so she leans forward and nibbles at his mouth. He startles, and tries to draw back. She reaches for his shoulders, tilts her head, and licks at his teeth.
Iron and flame and clang clang clang - delicious. His fingers are on her waist now, and her face wants to change but that could scare him away.
"Such a lovely little boy," she murmurs, delving deeper. He's gasping now, pressing close, hardness poking into her side.
She pulls back and shakes a finger at him. "Naughty, naughty. Musn't play those kinds of games."
Then she smiles. His tangled pulse will sing her to sleep.
Author: Pouncer
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Will Turner/Drusilla
Written For: naotalba
Wordcount: 300 (French kiss)
Author's Notes: With thanks to kuzibah for looking this over.
Pretty lights, swirly and flickery, and they want Drusilla to join them, so she does. The moon's a thin sliver and she can play hide and seek. Spike calls out, but her body's gone to taffy, pulled soft and sticky just like she did with Nana in the nursery.
Nana's blood tasted like blackberry jam.
Stretch and release and now the air smells of salt and dead fish, full moon glowing off cobbled streets.
"You found me!" she exclaims, delighted.
Her gown wafts around her ankles and her bare arms don't feel cold because the breeze is soft. It's traveled such a long way, and she follows its journey into an alley. Candles and lanterns flicker inside windows, whispering secrets.
They long for gold, and rum, and fine things from home.
"Miss, are you well?"
The boy's voice is soft, pleasant, and his hand blazes down her arm.
"You're like fire," she tells him, and inches closer.
"Were you aboard the Guernsey?" he asks, and cows walk past, clip-clop and bell-jangle.
"Milk sours," Drusilla tells this boy with thin lips and a wisp of a mustache. He's fresh and ripe for plucking. His lips should be swollen, so she leans forward and nibbles at his mouth. He startles, and tries to draw back. She reaches for his shoulders, tilts her head, and licks at his teeth.
Iron and flame and clang clang clang - delicious. His fingers are on her waist now, and her face wants to change but that could scare him away.
"Such a lovely little boy," she murmurs, delving deeper. He's gasping now, pressing close, hardness poking into her side.
She pulls back and shakes a finger at him. "Naughty, naughty. Musn't play those kinds of games."
Then she smiles. His tangled pulse will sing her to sleep.