PAIRING: Hyena Xander/Willow
SETTING: Sometime during an alt. version of Season 1, Episode 6, The Pack
EXTRA WARNINGS and or SPOILERS: Violence, Rape, death
Buffy's little talk with him must have worked as he was SO his usual tongue-tied Xander self again when he apologized to her and she accepted. Then later after math class, he'd even asked to carry her books to her locker and that she come over and help him with his homework that night. Everything was back to normal. They'd done this a million times, so she thought nothing of it. He was back to being good 'ol goofy Xander, and she was Willow, girl genius, who'd get him through yet another semester of math with a straight D average.
They studied for a while, and he struggled and fretted through each problem, and she cajoled and reassured, roles that were well rehearsed and comfortable like a muchly washed favorite t-shirt. Everything was as it should be, so it came as a near complete surprise.
He was so cool and suave and sincere, everything she had ever wanted him to be, everything she had ever wanted to hear from him, all flowed freely tonight.
She loved him, always had, and he'd use it to his advantage.
Sweet talk about their past and emotions got her to the bed. Declarations of trust and futures together got her clothes off, and finally, professions of love gained him entrance to what he sought.
He had his way with her hard and fast, all protests cut short by his hand or his lips. Her tears and discomfort were ignored to fulfill his need, and his need was great, the ache knotting the pit of his stomach like hunger. He thrust into her with all his might again and again, as she struggled futilely beneath him, balling up her fists to try to strike him or scratch him until he wrenched her arms feebly behind her, pinning them tight as though it were commonplace to him.
His energy seemed boundless as the night burned away and he used her up, all the while mocking and berating her making sport of her weakness. Near dawn there was no more fight left, or attempts to scream or flee, just soft whimpers and moans caused by his continued frenzied intrusions. Not an inch of her flesh was left untouched or unbruised, and when he finally thought he was sated, he watched her coldly, a cruel grin spread wide across his face at her pain and frailty and pleading for release.
He decided he would give it to her, but not the release she sought, for now the aching knot in his stomach was that of hunger. Manhandling her again, he straddled her once more relating his true feelings, rescinding his false vows of earlier, and revealing the certainty of her future. She didn't have one. He bared his fangs and with an evil frightful laugh fed upon her flesh in every way possible until her body lay stone cold, and he came one last euphoric time, finally satisfied.