La Mutant of Repute (mutantenemy) wrote in red_magic, @ 2007-07-05 10:25:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | accomplished |
Entry tags: | drabble, mutantenemy, willow/giles |
Little Girl Gone [Dark Willow / Giles]
Title: Little Girl Gone
Author: Ember
Character(s): Dark Willow / Giles
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 452
Summary: Dark Willow finally indulges a long awaited desire.
Feedback: Please.
Distribution: My IJ mutantenemy only.
Disclaimer: All copyrights of the BtVS universe and its characters are owned by none other than Joss “He’s my Master Now” Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. I own not one bit of this and make no profit whatsoever. I am merely a rockin’ fengurl getting her groove on. Kindly step aside.
Author's Notes: My first dabble into the fanfic drabble. Be gentle or spank me. I can handle both. ;)
Power. I have it. They don’t. This bothers them. Wah.
Willow giggled in spite of herself as she watched with amused detachment, her BFF bolt after her nifty little fireball. “Oh where, oh where will it land?,” she snerked, “hopefully on her ASS.”
Buffy never got it. She was always the strong one. The “special” one. She never understood what it was like to go from a meeping, geeky, awkward string of girl and transform…..no…..EVOLVE into this dark icon rippling with primal forces. Forces so strong to make even the Slayer herself run in fear for her friends. Forces so potent which allowed Willow to finally delve into her wickedest of desires.
What would a nerd know about desires? Willow knew plenty. Late nights in the library, while Xander would be off to fetch supplies at the Magic Box, Buffy would be on patrol and Oz would be caged due to the full moon hunger, Willow sated those urges secretly between the stacks. And the object of her lust was always him.
The smell of the musty tomes and the sound of the crisp pages always made her feel closer to him. As if wafting his unquenched need for her all around her body and whispering his desire to feast within her delicate ears. Hiding from his eyes, Willow always found a spot near enough to hear his deep voice resonating from his office. The man enjoyed talking to himself as he perused his books. Possibly a concentration tactic he learned back in the day. Regardless, Willow would feel the uncontrollable heat grow between her ivory thighs as his lilting voice caressed her skin.
So close. So close. Her breathing had gotten heavier as she fantasized his delicate touch tracing sensual marks about her neck and down her blouse. Pressing herself up against a nearby stack, she would lift her tartan skirt and feverishly rub against it, imagining it was his bulge she was feeling and not the spine of a thick 12th century demonic manuscript.
Almost. Almost there…..
“Willow, what are you doing?,” the Watcher’s voice was gentle and caring, even concerned.
With a sigil hand gesture, Dark Willow forced a magick depleted Giles to fly across to the store’s far wall where he hung suspended. Another flick of her wrist produced green bonds of energy about his hands and feet. She strode over with a purpose towards this mentor, this father-figure, this man who had unknowingly enraptured her desires for so many years. Tilting her head to the side she smiled. “Lesson of the first,” she began and off went his black shirt. “Willow doesn’t live here anymore. Little girl gone.” Off went his belt as his trousers fell loosely about his waist, eagerly exposing a nicely firm abdomen. “Lesson of the second,” she continued, “I want YOU.”