Title: Willow and Drusilla: A Magical Cuddle
Author: Am-Chau Yarkona
E-mail: grant@hagden169.fsnet.co.uk
Summary: Willow and Dru talk, post-patrol. It's naughty talk, in the very mildest way.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Willow/Drusilla
Spoilers: Season 3 Angel, 6 Buffy
Warnings: Mild bondage (implied)
Author Notes: None
Story Notes: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing in Joss's sand pit. With Spike and Giles on the swings, wearing all that hot tweed and wanting to strip… excuse me. No S/G in the show, so it can't be mine. No profit made from this waste of my time.

Drusilla:

"You enjoy the violence nearly as much as Buffy does, don't you, Dru?" she asks me. Her red hair is all crumpled, and the fighting has excited me. I want to see my pretty flowers on her.

"Bang! Thud!" She'll never understand, but I try to explain anyway. "The moon all smiley and the road all slimy."

"Yes, Dru. Are you hungry?" She's cold like Grandmummy, practical.

"Um- tummy growly. I'm all growly too." To maximize the impact of that, I growl, long and low.

"So you are. Here, glass of blood for Dru and glass of juice for Willow."

"Make me happy, pretty one?"

"After pleasures again so soon, Dru? You are a naughty madam." Her smile says she likes it, even if she doesn't understand.

How can she not see that? "Vampire, my Willow. Will you dance with me?"

"Alright. But not for long, my leg's still hurting from where that vampire kicked me."

"Ah, poor Willow. I kiss it better?"

She nods, so I kneel at her feet. This is something I would never have done for my boy- I wanted to hurt him, not comfort him, though at times I would do both- but Willow is my human consort and she deserves all the respect I give to Daddy. Kissing her leg, I smell blood under her skirt. The wound is still bleeding, and it smells like honey.

I pull the hem up, and she sits down on the bed, making my job easier.

"Were you injured in the fight?" she asks. Funny girl- always more worried about me than her.

"They hurt me. It's good," I tell her. I move up to sit beside her on the bed, letting her hold me, running my hand through her hair to see all the poppies. The voices from the wall sing with the silken touch.

"You're a dark girl, you know that?"

I know. "Daddy told me."

She pulls my face close to hers, and kisses me, then leans back to say, "I love you."

"Will you hurt me, like Daddy did? Like my Spike did?"

"Umm…" She likes to hurt- I like it. The moon says she used to hurt bad people. I'm bad.

"Tie me up. Hit me. Hurt me." I'm nearly begging. Her hand on my neck is firm- and suddenly has nails. The pain shocks me. I gasp in pleasure, hoping she can tell.

A apparently she can, and it goes on. My knees bend as they used to do, in church, for Daddy, my hips thrust against this red goddess. "Bite! Hurt!" I whisper.

She's blood, beautiful poetry, hurting and sweet and strong. It's not wise, but I love her. Oh, I do.

My hands seek to give her pleasure like Grandmum taught me- good manners. Flowers explode behind my eyes, and I know they are on her as well.

"Drusilla?" she asks, later, when she's recovered a little. "Did you mean what you said about me hurting you?"

I nod eagerly. Oh, yes. Daddy's girl likes to be hurt.

"Well, I'll think about it, if you'll do something for me. How about it?"

Again, I nod. I don't know how she sees me in the dark, but maybe it's magic.

Willow:

I feel her head nod against my leg, so I go on. "I want you to help me find out just what you can see with those visions of yours, and what the chip does. We do some experiments, yes?"

"Yes," she hisses. "And you hurt me?"

I nod. I don't know how she sees me in the dark, but she must do.

"Good. More flowers now?"

Oh, yes. More flowers, Dru. Always with you.

Drusilla:

While she sleeps, Miss Edith shows me things again. I see the ring of three, hear her singing, "A ring, a ring around the Hellmouth,/ Fight the bad man from the south/ The master, the master,/ We all fall down."

I see them, their faces, and I know their names, but hush, mustn't tell. Be quiet- one of them is all speckled with the dark, he's a naughty boy and he likes the solider man; one is the sparkly girl, who's all green swirls, and the other is hidden, her back to me, but the moon says she's a he, a witch-child.

Shhh! No more moon talk! Let me be sleepy now.