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Buffverse 1000 Drabbles
by WesleysGirl
Written as my contribution to the LiveJournal community 1000 Buffyverse Pairings.
Varied ratings up to NC-17.
Angel/Cordelia/Doyle
"Shh," Doyle whispered, flapping his hand at Cordelia. "The whole point of sneaking up on someone
is that they aren't supposed to know you're there."
"Not supposed to know who's there?" Angel asked curiously from behind them, and they both whirled
around, Cordelia giving a small shriek of surprise.
Doyle smoothed the front of his shirt with both hands. "Ah. Right. That would be us."
"Uh huh." Angel looked at them both, not seeming to care that he was wearing nothing but black silk boxer shorts
that left way too much to the imagination. He sipped from his mug. "Good job with that."
Tucking her hair back behind her ear, Cordelia frowned. "Well, it's not like it's our fault you're all Mr. Stealthy with
Super Vampire hearing."
Angel blinked. "Did I say it was your fault?" He looked from Cordelia to Doyle again. "What are you doing here?"
Doyle tried to think of how to put it. The plan had seemed so much simpler when they'd been laughing about it on
the way over, a couple of hefty drinks in the both of them and the idea that they'd surprise Angel in his bed.
"We got to thinking..." he started.
"No, thinking is what you do when you're not totally drunk. I'm not. We're... not." Cordelia wasn't making a lick of
sense, and she didn't seem to know it.
"Who isn't drunk?" Angel asked mildly.
"You," Doyle said. "Am I right?"
"Yeah." Angel waited.
"We thought you'd be asleep. In bed." Cordelia eyed Angel, her gaze lingering on his chest and shoulders.
"Preferably naked," Doyle added.
Angel sighed. "I thought we talked about this after what happened last time. We're not doing this again."
"That's what you think," Cordelia said, smirking. She took the mug out of his hand and set it down on the nearest flat surface.
"You see," Doyle said, watching as Cordelia kissed Angel and, after a few seconds, the vampire's arms went around her
waist and pulled her closer. "We were thinking, there's two of us, and only one of you."
Angel ran his hand through Cordelia's hair and murmured, "And?"
"And that means," Cordelia said, "that we win. Two against one."
Stepping sideways, Angel reached out and grabbed onto Doyle's forearm, pulling him in close and kissing him.
Cool, strong lips on his, big hand sliding down to knead his arse... oh yeah, this was what Doyle had been
wanting. "I'm stronger than both of you," Angel said.
"Yeah," Doyle acknowledged, as Cordelia started unbuttoning his shirt and sliding her hand inside. "But we're determined."
Angel/Giles
"I don't want you mucking about with her feelings again!" Giles said, pointing at Angel. "You've
done enough damage. It's not fair."
"I know." Angel's voice was quieter than Giles had anticipated, the vampire's demeanor more subdued. It
was as if he'd shrunk in on himself.
Giles couldn't say that, as a new phase of Angel's personality, he disliked it.
"I'll stay away from her as much as I can," Angel continued, looking down at his hands. "And I..." He glanced
up, his eyes haunted. "I'm sorry."
"Yes, well," Giles said, mollified. "Good. You should be. She's just a young girl, she doesn't -- "
"No," Angel interrupted. "I meant... to you. About..."
He didn't need to say any more, certainly; Giles knew what he was talking about. And didn't particularly
care to discuss it.
There were things he forgot about the time he'd spent as Angelus' prisoner. Things that were lost to him.
And there were things he wished he could forget, like the taste of Angelus' cock as it forced its way past
his split lips, his own blood making it slick. Like the way he'd gagged, choked for air. Like the sound of
Angelus' laughter, and the pleased grunts as he came in Giles' throat, one hand holding Giles' head steady.
"I'm sure you are," Giles said stiffly. Surely Angel didn't expect forgiveness?
But from the way Angel glanced up at him again, it was clear that that was what the vampire was
hoping for. "What if... would you feel better if..." Angel shook his head as if erasing his failed attempts
at the language. "Maybe I could..." His eyes were downcast, his shoulders slumped, and Giles knew
exactly what he was thinking.
Still, it was several long moments before he answered. "Come over here," Giles said, "and get on your
knees."
Angelus/Connor
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Angelus asked, holding the struggling boy in his arms and biting down into
his throat again, not taking more than a couple of mouthfuls. There were already two other bleeding wounds on
Connor's throat, the blood trailing sluggishly down along his warm, pale skin.
"I never wanted this," Connor spat out. Oh yeah, Angelus liked it when they were all defiant. Really got
him going. "I wanted you dead."
He chuckled and ran a hand down Connor's chest, tearing the thin shirt as he reached the hem and fingering
the fastenings of the boy's trousers. "I'm already dead. That's part of the reason you hate me so much, isn't it."
"I hate you because you killed my father's family!" Connor said. struggling harder as Angelus undid the button and
eased down the zipper. "You're disgusting!"
Tightening the hand he was using to keep Connor's chin pinned against his own shoulder, Angelus pulled the boy's
pants down and then undid his own, letting his heavy, aching cock out, rubbing it against Connor's tight little
ass. "You have no idea what I'm capable of," he said into Connor's ear.
Finally realizing what Angelus had planned, Connor was frozen now, his heart fluttering, his breathing quick and
desperate. "You think I don't?" Connor said, trying to sound tough but succeeding only in sounding terrified.
Angelus drank it up. "I know you don't," he said, bending the boy over at the waist and letting the tip of his cock find the
virgin entrance to Connor's body. As he pushed inside, paying no attention to Connor's struggles, he growled his
satisfaction. "But don't worry. You will."
Dawn/Faith
"Let go," Dawn said, squirming underneath Faith in that way she had, the one that was most likely
to get Faith all hot and bothered.
"You want me to let you go?" Faith crooned. She had Dawn's wrists pinned to the bed, and her mouth was
hovering over Dawn's perky little breast, nipple taut and pink. "If I let you go, I wouldn't be able to do
this..." She scraped her teeth over the sensitive flesh, making Dawn moan.
"Faith..."
"That's it," Faith said, letting go of Dawn's arms now because she knew she could. Knew that Dawn's
slender fingers were tangle in her hair, holding on, stronger than she looked. Faith liked that about her.
"That's my girl," Faith said as she slid lower, licking Dawn's flat stomach, one hand working its
way between warm thighs. "You love it when I do this."
"Oh... Faith..." Dawn was in that good place now, the place where she wasn't going to complain
about anything Faith did. The place where she wouldn't even pretend to put up a fight.
When she cried out, her slick heat contracting around Faith's hand, Faith's tongue on her throbbing
clit, Faith couldn't help but think of Buffy.
Ethan/Vamp!Giles
"Oh, Ripper..." Ethan came very close to purring the words as Ripper's hand slid into the front of his
opened trousers and encircled his slick, wet-tipped cock with cool fingers.
"Like that, do you?" Ripper was behind him, mouthing at his neck, the words slurred against his skin.
"You know I do." He loved Ripper this way, all hot and bothered, control shattered into a million bits, working
under instinct and desire alone. He loved himself this way -- the uncertainty of the situation causing
his erection to harden to the point of pain. Pain was always exciting, wasn't it?
"I'm going to push you down over that table and fuck you," Ripper growled into his ear. "Fuck you until you
scream."
"What are you -- " gasp, "waiting for?" Ethan gasped again as, impossibly quickly, Ripper got them
into position, Ethan's trousers torn and down around his knees, palms braced on the hard wooden
surface of the table in front of him, cool blunt tip of Ripper's cock probing between Ethan's buttocks.
It felt enormous as Ripper shoved it into him, bringing tears to Ethan's eyes and tearing a cry from his
throat, past the point of playful pain and into the realm of genuine. He scrabbled at the tabletop for
support, not in an attempt to get away, but it was clear from the way Ripper grabbed onto his hips
that his movement was misunderstood.
"Didn't know what you were getting into, did you?" Ripper asked, squeezing so tightly that Ethan
knew he'd have bruises if he lived that long. He felt Ripper's mouth on his neck and tilted his head
back obligingly -- might as well, after all. If death was in the cards for him, he wouldn't be able to
stop it.
When Ripper's face changed and sharp teeth sunk through his flesh, Ethan came.
Ethan/Wesley
There were thirteen steps at the front of the building, a fact which Ethan found amusing -- at least,
until he found himself distracted by a man with a hard edge to him. He looked the sort who'd honed
himself bloody against sharp objects, possibly just for the fun of it.
He reminded Ethan of Rupert. Not in a physical way; they weren't built the same. Just something about
the way he carried himself. As if, perhaps, the weight of responsibility had bent him until he'd snapped
and then been forced to rebuild himself in someone else's image.
"Hello," Ethan said, once he'd managed to sidle up beside the man, who was gazing at some sort of
model with what seemed little interest.
Blue eyes met his. "You're British."
"Yes. So are you." Ethan attempted to sound less surprised than he was. He really shouldn't have
been, after all.
The man smiled in a polite sort of way. "Yes. Well." He moved on to the next display without another
word, and Ethan followed him, intrigued.
"Do you live nearby?" he asked, not even pretending to look at the odd triangular thing inside the
case, although he did manage to pretend that the question was reasonable. As if anyone would
live in Memphis.
"No."
They moved on again.
"Did you come to see this specially then? Or are you visiting friends in the area?" Ethan knew
that chances were good he'd drive this man away with his annoying questions, but somehow
he couldn't resist.
"Yes," the man said, reaching a hand up in a gesture that Ethan recognized intimately -- it was
the one Rupert had used to push his reading glasses back up along his nose. Only this man wasn't
wearing glasses.
Curiouser and curiouser.
It wasn't until the man turned, his gaze settling on the one thing Ethan had come to see -- the Block
Statue of Nedjem -- and Ethan saw the spark of genuine interest there that he realized they had
even more in common than he'd suspected.
"You know exactly what that does, don't you?" he murmured softly, not far from the man's ear.
"And so do you." The man turned and looked at him properly for the first time, assessing him, and, if
his expression was any indication, finding him acceptable. Dare Ethan even hope, desirable. "I'm
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he said, offering his hand.
Ethan shook it, lingering over the formality a bit longer than was strictly necessary, and smiled.
This was going to be even more fun than he'd hoped.
Ethan/Xander
Xander was watching Ethan warily. "Don't get any ideas," he said.
"I can't imagine why you think I would," Ethan said, sitting back in his chair with a forced kind of casualness and
sipping his tea.
"Well, for starters, because I know you," Xander told him.
Ethan was really good at looking surprised, even when Xander was pretty sure he wasn't. "Do you? What do you think
you know about me?"
"Don't think you can play innocent with me," Xander said, frowning. "Just because you buy a guy a cup of hot chocolate
doesn't mean you can pull the wool over his eyes." He paused briefly to wonder where the hell that phrase had come
from, but forced his mind back to the matter at hand.
Ethan's hand.
Ethan's hand was on his knee underneath the table, petting it gently. It felt nice. Wait!
Xander jerked his chair a couple of inches to the side, glaring at Ethan. "I remember all that stuff you did.
Turning us into our halloween costumes, and putting a spell on those... chocolate bars..." Hot chocolate.
"Oh, crap."
Ethan had moved closer again, and his mouth was right next to Xander's ear as he lifted a thermos up from the floor
and set it on the table in front of Xander. "Bought, brought," he purred. "Only one little letter's difference, when you
think about it." His hand was on Xander's leg again, only this time it was sliding up the inside of Xander's thigh,
stroking his sudden erection through the fabric of his jeans, making him moan softly.
"I... don't..." Xander couldn't say anything else, could only tremble under Ethan's touch and yearn for more.
"Such a lovely boy," Ethan murmured. "We're going to have so much fun, you and I."
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