Making the Nature Scene
Fandom: Buffy
Canon Compliancy: Set between Seasons 3 and 4.
Rating: R
Word Count: 450
Pairing: Oz/Willow
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
Written for still_grrr's prompt Oz and posted there. This is a companion piece to ' Carpe that Diem' that shows what Oz is really thinking under that cool exterior. Title borrowed from Sonic Youth.
Award winner - details here.
He’s squatting down when she brushes past him micro-minied, bare-legged, and his nostrils flare as her scent hits so strongly he can taste it in the back of his throat.
His hands clutch at the book in his lap, and he avoids looking up at her, burgeoning erection dictating that even a look will prompt more - much more.
And that’s not cool, Oz thinks. I only picked her up half an hour ago.
As she moves farther away, he lets his shoulders relax even as he opens his mouth to pull her lingering essence across his tongue. Willow.
When he opens his eyes again, he stares at the page in front of him, words swimming in and out of focus in time with his increased breathing and pulse. Jimi Hendrix: Electric Gypsy seems a great book, and the five-buck price penciled onto the front flap is a good deal, but right now, even the section on fingering techniques holds minimal attraction. Flipping randomly through, he stops at the midsection of photos, hands playing across the glossy pages.
I gotta wait, he decides. We’re supposed to get something to eat.
More pages turn, and before him, Hendrix plays a guitar with his teeth, the caption reading “'The Star Spangled Banner,' Woodstock, 1969.” Oz is transfixed by the vision of white incisors plucking at strings, and he opens his mouth again to lick his lips, tasting the faintest trace of her hello kiss. His cock twitches.
He’s holding on to holding out until she comes close, and once again, his hands anchor themselves to the book. Squatting at his side, her knees splay slightly, and her already-short skirt rides up. Willow’s smell swirls around him. Looking from the corner of his eye, he sees a small triangle of pale blue hidden within, and all he can imagine is how she’ll look lying in the back of his van as he peels this last layer from her.
Her fingers caressing his ear snaps the thread of control he had, a jolt of intensity seeming to rush straight to his full-fledged erection. He trembles.
Looking up to see her teeth toying with her lower lip, he forgets waiting, he forgets food, and if not for its weight, he’d forget the book too. One last glance down to snap it shut shows Hendrix, guitar raised to mouth.
Buying the books is a blur as he stays near enough to her that her presence presses against his skin even through layers of clothing, even when they don’t touch.
She fills his nose, his mouth.
As they hurry from the store, Oz thinks of stripping the pale blue panties from her with his teeth.
Canon Compliancy: Set between Seasons 3 and 4.
Rating: R
Word Count: 450
Pairing: Oz/Willow
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
Written for still_grrr's prompt Oz and posted there. This is a companion piece to ' Carpe that Diem' that shows what Oz is really thinking under that cool exterior. Title borrowed from Sonic Youth.
Award winner - details here.
He’s squatting down when she brushes past him micro-minied, bare-legged, and his nostrils flare as her scent hits so strongly he can taste it in the back of his throat.
His hands clutch at the book in his lap, and he avoids looking up at her, burgeoning erection dictating that even a look will prompt more - much more.
And that’s not cool, Oz thinks. I only picked her up half an hour ago.
As she moves farther away, he lets his shoulders relax even as he opens his mouth to pull her lingering essence across his tongue. Willow.
When he opens his eyes again, he stares at the page in front of him, words swimming in and out of focus in time with his increased breathing and pulse. Jimi Hendrix: Electric Gypsy seems a great book, and the five-buck price penciled onto the front flap is a good deal, but right now, even the section on fingering techniques holds minimal attraction. Flipping randomly through, he stops at the midsection of photos, hands playing across the glossy pages.
I gotta wait, he decides. We’re supposed to get something to eat.
More pages turn, and before him, Hendrix plays a guitar with his teeth, the caption reading “'The Star Spangled Banner,' Woodstock, 1969.” Oz is transfixed by the vision of white incisors plucking at strings, and he opens his mouth again to lick his lips, tasting the faintest trace of her hello kiss. His cock twitches.
He’s holding on to holding out until she comes close, and once again, his hands anchor themselves to the book. Squatting at his side, her knees splay slightly, and her already-short skirt rides up. Willow’s smell swirls around him. Looking from the corner of his eye, he sees a small triangle of pale blue hidden within, and all he can imagine is how she’ll look lying in the back of his van as he peels this last layer from her.
Her fingers caressing his ear snaps the thread of control he had, a jolt of intensity seeming to rush straight to his full-fledged erection. He trembles.
Looking up to see her teeth toying with her lower lip, he forgets waiting, he forgets food, and if not for its weight, he’d forget the book too. One last glance down to snap it shut shows Hendrix, guitar raised to mouth.
Buying the books is a blur as he stays near enough to her that her presence presses against his skin even through layers of clothing, even when they don’t touch.
She fills his nose, his mouth.
As they hurry from the store, Oz thinks of stripping the pale blue panties from her with his teeth.