Fic: Living in a Dream (Willow/Angel)
Title: Living in a Dream
Characters/Pairings: Angel/Willow
Rating: Adult
Summary: Willow feels warm, safe, and content.
Word Count: 860
A/N: Bit of darkness for my lovely Gabrielle who has been a supportive presence in my fandom life for over a decade!
velvetwhip’s prompt: living in a dream
The cup of hot chocolate is the perfect temperature and there are even little marshmallows floating on top. When Willow takes a sip, she tastes a hint of cinnamon, which pleases her. She leans against Angel’s chest and sighs, feeling warm, safe, and content. The feel of his lips nuzzling her neck makes her smile, and she tilts her head to give him more access.
They don’t speak, but she doesn’t find it odd. He isn’t exactly a verbal type of guy, and she can enjoy silence sometimes, even if she often babbles and likes to fill the quiet with words. There’s a movie playing on the television with the sound down, something with that actor who was in that other thing she liked, and she watches it for a bit as he licks and kisses her neck. Soon, she forgets about the television. Putting her mug on the table before turning towards him, Willow leans up to kiss him.
Angel returns the kiss, moving his hands along her body, cupping her ass and pulling her close. Willow feels warm, like she’s running fever, only it’s not illness making her body hot. She isn’t used to this, to feeling a hard body press against hers, to feel his erection rubbing against her leg. Yet it feels familiar, and she knows how to kiss him, how to touch him, and maybe she’s more used to it now than she realizes.
When he stands up, she holds on to him, kissing him as he carries her through the apartment to the bedroom. His bed is soft, and she likes the way the sheets feel against her bare skin when she takes off her shirt, lying back and watching him. She isn’t wearing a bra, her nipples already peaking and hard, and she knows his fingers are getting wet when his hand presses against her panties. He tugs her skirt off, tossing it on the floor before he shoves his pants down.
He’s hard, and she shivers when he looks at her, the tender expression flickering for a moment, a wicked smile on his lips before it’s gone, and he’s looking at her with confusion. She blinks and then smiles, raising her arm and beckoning him to her. When he pushes inside her, it makes her whine. He’s thick, and she’s not prepared enough for his size, but he goes slow, and she soon adjusts. They kiss as he fucks her, his hands gently caressing her breasts.
Such a fucking whore. Always knew you would be. Desperate for my cock, aren’t you, slut? Look at how you’re fucking yourself on me. Nothing but my pretty whore now.
The words are a sinister whisper in her ear, and she doesn’t know why she’s imagining them when he’s kissing her and making her feel so good. He kisses his way down her neck, sucking on a spot that feels tender and hurts just a little before he licks at her nipples. They’re sensitive, and she trembles as he fucks into her and sucks on them. She’s soon pushing down to meet his thrusts, lost in the sensations that she’s feeling, wanting so desperately to come. Needing it. Grinding against him, pushing down, rolling her hips, wanting it. She closes her eyes and feels her orgasm wash over her.
When she comes, the world stops.
She opens her eyes, blinking at the darkness lit only by candles and an old lantern. He’s fucking into her brutally, her legs pushed up so he can go deep and fuck her hard. Her breasts are sore, swollen and aching from his attention. Her lips are chapped, her mouth dry, her body hurting in ways she can’t even describe. He’s so rough, thrusting in and out, in an out, in and out. One hand is squeezing her breast and the other is gripping her throat. His thumb is rubbing over the sore spot, the bite mark, she distantly remembers.
When he looks up at her, he grins. Blood on his lips, wickedness in his eyes, evil intent in every move he makes. Reality crashes down on her, once again, and she tries to scream, but his hand is there, covering her mouth. Angelus looks down at her, his words making her fight but it’s futile. She’s too weak. It’s been so long, and he does this to her all the time. Is always inside her, touching her, calling her his whore and telling him about his plans for the others, telling her how they’ll all suffer and how he’s going to kill them then fuck her in their blood.
The hand on her throat tightens as he fucks harder and harder. Her vision is blurring, she can’t breathe, it’s too much. She closes her eyes and the world is dark. When she opens them again, Angel is there, kissing her gentle, whispering to her and holding her close. Willow sighs, leaning into him as she keeps her eyes open, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of her heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. This is real. It has to be real.
You’re living in a dream, Willow. Wakey wakey.
End
Characters/Pairings: Angel/Willow
Rating: Adult
Summary: Willow feels warm, safe, and content.
Word Count: 860
A/N: Bit of darkness for my lovely Gabrielle who has been a supportive presence in my fandom life for over a decade!
velvetwhip’s prompt: living in a dream
The cup of hot chocolate is the perfect temperature and there are even little marshmallows floating on top. When Willow takes a sip, she tastes a hint of cinnamon, which pleases her. She leans against Angel’s chest and sighs, feeling warm, safe, and content. The feel of his lips nuzzling her neck makes her smile, and she tilts her head to give him more access.
They don’t speak, but she doesn’t find it odd. He isn’t exactly a verbal type of guy, and she can enjoy silence sometimes, even if she often babbles and likes to fill the quiet with words. There’s a movie playing on the television with the sound down, something with that actor who was in that other thing she liked, and she watches it for a bit as he licks and kisses her neck. Soon, she forgets about the television. Putting her mug on the table before turning towards him, Willow leans up to kiss him.
Angel returns the kiss, moving his hands along her body, cupping her ass and pulling her close. Willow feels warm, like she’s running fever, only it’s not illness making her body hot. She isn’t used to this, to feeling a hard body press against hers, to feel his erection rubbing against her leg. Yet it feels familiar, and she knows how to kiss him, how to touch him, and maybe she’s more used to it now than she realizes.
When he stands up, she holds on to him, kissing him as he carries her through the apartment to the bedroom. His bed is soft, and she likes the way the sheets feel against her bare skin when she takes off her shirt, lying back and watching him. She isn’t wearing a bra, her nipples already peaking and hard, and she knows his fingers are getting wet when his hand presses against her panties. He tugs her skirt off, tossing it on the floor before he shoves his pants down.
He’s hard, and she shivers when he looks at her, the tender expression flickering for a moment, a wicked smile on his lips before it’s gone, and he’s looking at her with confusion. She blinks and then smiles, raising her arm and beckoning him to her. When he pushes inside her, it makes her whine. He’s thick, and she’s not prepared enough for his size, but he goes slow, and she soon adjusts. They kiss as he fucks her, his hands gently caressing her breasts.
Such a fucking whore. Always knew you would be. Desperate for my cock, aren’t you, slut? Look at how you’re fucking yourself on me. Nothing but my pretty whore now.
The words are a sinister whisper in her ear, and she doesn’t know why she’s imagining them when he’s kissing her and making her feel so good. He kisses his way down her neck, sucking on a spot that feels tender and hurts just a little before he licks at her nipples. They’re sensitive, and she trembles as he fucks into her and sucks on them. She’s soon pushing down to meet his thrusts, lost in the sensations that she’s feeling, wanting so desperately to come. Needing it. Grinding against him, pushing down, rolling her hips, wanting it. She closes her eyes and feels her orgasm wash over her.
When she comes, the world stops.
She opens her eyes, blinking at the darkness lit only by candles and an old lantern. He’s fucking into her brutally, her legs pushed up so he can go deep and fuck her hard. Her breasts are sore, swollen and aching from his attention. Her lips are chapped, her mouth dry, her body hurting in ways she can’t even describe. He’s so rough, thrusting in and out, in an out, in and out. One hand is squeezing her breast and the other is gripping her throat. His thumb is rubbing over the sore spot, the bite mark, she distantly remembers.
When he looks up at her, he grins. Blood on his lips, wickedness in his eyes, evil intent in every move he makes. Reality crashes down on her, once again, and she tries to scream, but his hand is there, covering her mouth. Angelus looks down at her, his words making her fight but it’s futile. She’s too weak. It’s been so long, and he does this to her all the time. Is always inside her, touching her, calling her his whore and telling him about his plans for the others, telling her how they’ll all suffer and how he’s going to kill them then fuck her in their blood.
The hand on her throat tightens as he fucks harder and harder. Her vision is blurring, she can’t breathe, it’s too much. She closes her eyes and the world is dark. When she opens them again, Angel is there, kissing her gentle, whispering to her and holding her close. Willow sighs, leaning into him as she keeps her eyes open, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of her heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. This is real. It has to be real.
You’re living in a dream, Willow. Wakey wakey.
End