Title: Should Have Stayed in Bed
Author: Jinni (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Genre: BtVS/AB Crossover.
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things AB belong to Laurell K Hamilton, et al.
Distribution: WLS, WLF, NHA, BMP, Aislin, TtH, TQC.
Author’s Note: Pairing #43 at The Quickie Challenge: http://quickie.moonlitpaths.com
Notes2: A present for someone who wrote a TNL Scenario fic.
He should have stayed in bed.
Sure, that wouldn’t have solved much of anything.
And, in the end, his fate might very well have caught up with him.
Who was he kidding, for all he knew what happened was nothing more than a dream anyway.
A really sweet dream.
Right up there with those ones he had about Anita at one point. . the ones were he and she were in bed, naked, touching. . .
Okay, so a wet dream.
Richard groaned, rolling over in bed and trying very hard to forget the woman that was currently responsible for the extremely uncomfortable ache in his nether regions, the one that was demanding his attention.
If only he had never gotten out of bed.
The school halls were dark by the time Richard Zeeman finally stepped from his classroom. Most of the other faculty members had already gone home for the day. Only the die hards, like himself, had stayed until nearly eight o’clock to get their exam grading done. It wasn’t that he was any more or less dedicated than the next teacher, he just didn’t want to have the exams hanging over his head for the next week until the final grades were due into the office in time for report cards.
So he stayed and finished.
Thus the reason why the sky was now dark as he walked out to his car. He wasn’t particularly watchful for anything out of the ordinary. And maybe that’s why he didn’t see the big swirling hole in the ground until it was too late. His left foot hit it first and he fell forward, sinking into the ground without a sound, his mouth opened in a scream that was silent in the void of space the chasm created.
He fell for only God knows how long before the blue-black of the void separated and he was falling to the earth, fully conscious of his rapid descent to the world below. It was only from a height of no more than fifteen feet, and it didn’t really hurt when he landed. He winced as his ankle caught at a bad angle, but when it didn’t break or shatter he knew all was okay. Even a fracture would heal quick enough because of his lycanthropy.
Richard rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky in shocked, silent amazement. What in the name of God had just happened?
“Are you alright?”
That wasn’t a voice he recognized. It was soft, almost timid sounding. He rolled onto his knees, immediately on the defensive. But the woman that was sitting there, no more than ten feet from him, didn’t appear to be in the least shocked to see him there. She met his eyes steadily, an eyebrow arched delicately. Red hair hung past her shoulders, sparkling in the moonlight. It looked like something akin to rubies and blood as she sat there, the shimmering rays of the moon lapping at her body like a scene from a fantastical drawing.
“Where am I?”
She smiled, leaning forward so that her elbows were resting on her knees.
“Well, you see, that’s a complicated question.”
“Try me.” He growled, shooting daggers at her with his eyes without even knowing if his current situation was her fault or not. She seemed to think she had the answers, though; so that was a good enough reason to at least assume that she was to blame.
“Very well,” she shrugged, that same teasing smile on her face. “I did a spell and it brought you here.”
“A spell?” She was a witch? This ethereal looking slip of a woman was a witch? Why couldn’t he feel anything off of her? Not even a slight aura. She was a null to his senses. Nothing there but a warm body.
A very nice-looking warm body, at that.
“Yes,” she nodded, gazing at a spot somewhere over his head, her attention both on him and not on him at the same time. Only when he turned to look around did he realize, for the first time, that they were in a cemetery. “A spell,” she continued on, oblivious to his sudden, shocked flash of insight. “You see. . . I was lonely. So I took my cute little self out here and did a spell to find someone just as lonely as me. Someone that I could have fun with for just one night. And here you are.”
“Fun?” Richard repeated, rising slowly to his feet.
“Yeah, fun,” she agreed, rising to her feet as well. “As in, let’s find an empty crypt and have at it?”
“You want to. . .?” Richard’s eyes went wide, not just from her statement, but from the body presented to him when she was finally in a standing position. She was wearing far too little to be out here, at night. God only knew what was waiting to hurt a pretty little thing like her in a cemetery; and all she was wearing was a wispy sundress that hardly covered her from chest to upper thigh. She had come out here for a purpose, apparently, a purpose he had been summoned to serve. “In a crypt?”
She nodded. “Most definitely. Unless you wanna do it under the stars. . .”
Richard took a step back as she took on forward. Back, forward. Back, forward. Until finally she gave up and put her hands on her hips. The smile on her face was gone now.
“Let me guess – you’re not interested?” She sighed, throwing up her hands in frustration. “See – the spell was supposed to find a “willing” guy. Not one that runs from me. Goddess damnit! I cant even get one little bitty freaking spell right!”
She turned, and Richard heard sniffling. He felt like a heel for backing away from her. Especially when she was so pretty. It wasn’t that he was unwilling. Not in the least. The last time he had been with a woman was. . . Well, it was last summer, when he visited with Verne’s pack. He and Lucy had rehashed old feelings and ended up in bed together. Repeatedly. It had come to nothing in the end, of course. Anything he did with her was just for fun – just to release some tension.
Just like this little red head was offering.
But she was so small. And so undeniably human.
And he wasn’t.
“I’m willing but it wouldn’t work between us. I’d hurt you.”
She turned, her eyes lighting up with hope. “Hurt me? A little rough, are ya?”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m a lycanthrope.”
“Oh! How perfect!” She giggled, clapping her hands together and doing a little dance that he could have sworn he saw once on Charlie Brown. “Did I mention I’m an animal lover?”
“I think you’re missing the point,” he laughed. “With my strength I could crush you without meaning to.”
“No. You couldn’t.” She shrugged. “You see, little old me is hard to hurt. Why else do you think I’m out here in the middle of the night? Spells, my fine man. They do a body good.”
“And you’re not turned off by the whole werewolf thing?”
If it was possible her eyes lit up even more.
“Werewolf, huh? I had a werewolf for a boyfriend once. He was . . . good. Why do I think you’ll be better?”
Richard almost blushed. Her eyes were filled with such intense lust, directed at him.
“If you’re so powerful, why can’t I feel you. . .” He paused, forehead creasing with consternation. “I don’t even known your name and we’re talking about sleeping together.”
She laughed. “There won’t be any sleeping happening, hottie. My name is Willow. And you are?”
“Richard.” He held out his hand to her. The moment their skin touched he was blown away, power coursing through him, teasing and taunting his beast with promises of wild nights under the moon, of dancing naked in each other’s arms with only her power to keep them warm. It was the call of nature that he felt from her aura now that he could feel it. When she pulled her hand free, breaking the contact, he gasped for breath, still awash with the power she had doused him with.
“Can you feel me now?”
He nodded, his body rigidly demanding release. She was a walking aphrodisiac. She had asked a loaded question and he intended to answer her – though not with words.
The space between them was closed with one step. Laying his hands on her back, he pulled her flush against his hard body, his lips crashing into hers with a force that he would have been afraid to use normally. She moaned into his mouth, urging him on with her hands and body. So willing, eager.
He took her there, under the moon and stars. With no one around to see them coupling in the grass or hear their screams as they shouted their release.
And now he was back in his bed. Peering through the curtains he could see his car parked out front. He was home. And there was nothing to make him believe that he hadn’t dreamed the entire thing. It had felt so real, though.
So very real.
If it was real, he would have been better off just staying in bed.
Because how was any woman ever going to compare to that hellcat.
The one named Willow, with hair like spun rubies and a body like a Greek statue.
The one that . . .
Left a scratch mark on his chest?