Ducks: Queen of Frickin' Everything

I decided to split this story up so that people can read one without being forced to read the others. PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT THIS IS PORN. My purpose was to write the most inappropriate content I could without tripping over my own Squick lines. Any flames or complaints about content will be ignored. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED -- IF ANY OF THE ABOVE SQUICKS YOU, DO NOT CLICK!

TITLE: Forbidden Fruit 3/5
AUTHOR: Ducks, The Anti-Joss
E-MAIL: ducksfanfic@gmail.com
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
DISCLAIMER: Heh. Yeah, not so much. I'm thinking their corporate owners may not appreciate this kind of story involving their characters.
RATING: Oh, WAY NC-17
WARNINGS: Underage sex, incest, gender-bending, strap-ons, f/f slash, graphic language
PAIRING(S): Buffy/Giles, Faith/Dawn, Connor/Darla, Joyce/Oz, Xander/Cordy
TIMELINE: Various. It's not really important, but it's noted at the beginning of each story.
SYNOPSIS: Naughty, inappropriate sex for no particular reason.
WORD COUNT: ~6650 (total)
DISTRIBUTION: Please ask. Chances are good that I'll say yes. :)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Five REALLY Naughty Pornlets for BRING BACK THE Pr0N DAY 2007! Just to be clear for anybody who doesn't get the line between fiction and reality, by writing these, I am in no way condoning any of this behavior in real life, nor is it meant to offend those who consider themselves survivors or victims of any of these things in real life. I'm very clear that sexual relationships involving an imbalance of power not agreed upon by two consenting adults is BAD. I am also well aware that being gay, cross-dressing and/or teens safely exploring sex with other teens is NOT bad. This is fiction, okay? The point of these is to be as inappropriate as I can be subject-wise in response to the attack on freedom of expression by the small minds of various corporate entities that shall remain nameless.

Plus, they're challenging, because all are out of my "comfort zone", and nobody seems to write PWP anymore. *pout*
FEEDBACK: That would be awesome, thank you!

All mistakes are mine -- my dirty betas are all gone to Dragon*con! *cries*

"Forbidden Fruit”
by Ducks

~

3. Connor/Darla (Incest)


He dreams of his mother at least once a month. Not sweet, nice dreams, either, but the kind that make him wonder if there isn't something wrong with his head.

It started when his memories returned after the fight with Sahjan; when Connor realized that he was not Connor, Average American kid at all, but rather the impossible hellspawn of two dead people. A psychopath raised in a Hell dimension by an old time-traveler driven mad by thoughts of revenge. When the vision of the tiny, ethereally beautiful blonde woman pleading with him not to commit murder had given him a hard-on that wouldn't quit until he jerked off to visions of her closing those fair, rosy lips around it.

It doesn't seem real, that this delicate creature could have been a vicious vampire that dusted herself to give him life. He wishes he could ask his father -- his real father -- about her, but that might lead to questions Connor isn't ready to answer. Even for himself.

Instead he just falls into the dreams, where there is always darkness and a storm raging outside the old warehouse where he knows he made love to Cordelia and conceived Jasmine, but where instead he fucks his mother until she screams and plunges her fangs into his throat and drinks him dry until he's dead, still spasming with the strength of his orgasm. He wakes tangled in sticky sheets, his hand still fisted around his now-soft cock, and wishes he could do it all over again even as he wishes he could die from the shame of it.

His mother. He has wet dreams about fucking his own mother.

But the facts of it don't matter. She never held him in her arms when he was a baby. She never suckled him at her breast or even heard him cry. She never changed a diaper or watched him grow or did anything that a mother was supposed to do except appear that single time, and he's fairly convinced he was batshit then anyway and only imagined her.

Only... how could he imagine someone he had never seen, never even heard of except in nightmarish tales told to frighten him and fill him with rage and the urge to kill...

He shuts it all away, the knowledge, the memories. She comes to him and offers the solace of her body, and having missed it as a child, he refuses to say to no to taking it now, no matter how wrong and twisted the uncaring world outside might see it to be. She whispers his name, calls him her sweet boy, takes him inside her, feeds him her breast, drinks his blood from groin and wrist and throat, and makes everything okay again.

Maybe that makes him twisted. Maybe that makes him insane. But it's the only comfort he's ever been able to find, the only buffer against the ugly, bloodthirsty thing he knows he inherited from her that lurks deep inside of him. She takes it away, she sips it from his veins and leaves his heart clean even as he knows his soul is dirty and long past saving.

She lies waiting for him in the narrow bed of his dorm at UCLA, pale and naked and shining in the moonlight. Her pubic hair is trimmed and such a light blonde it's almost as though she is bare, and he steps into the room stripping, already painfully hard for her. His cock doesn't care who she is. It doesn't care about anything but her hands, her mouth, that soft, tight pussy as he pushes into her, wondering how she can be cool and wet all at once but figures that's a question like how could she carry him for nine months at all and oh, God, how can this be wrong when it feels so. Fucking. Perfectly. Right?

"She was the Devil," his father... no, Holtz... told him, "And your father was her concubine. It is your duty to return some day and rid the world of their evil."

The Devil gets on her hands and knees and shows him her supple backside, and he can't help but put his hands on that flesh, rub the tip of his cock slowly up and down her cleft and get harder still at the deep, throaty moan she gives him. He teases just the first inch inside her, gives a few shallow thrusts, and she rewards him with the words that haunt him in that voice that always pleads in his memory, "Yes. Please. Fuck me, Connor. Fuck me, my sweet boy."

He does. He always does. He doesn't think he could stop himself even if he wanted to. He blankets his body over hers as he drives deep. Pretends for a moment he is really her child in the same way his father is -- God, already so much incest in their family even without this -- and clamps blunt teeth down hard on the back of her neck. She cries out, slams back onto him as she comes, her inner walls squeezing him so hard he could swear she will break his cock off and he doesn't care, he just keeps pounding into her, slamming flesh into flesh like he can go back inside if he just fucks her hard enough. Like he can return to that quiet world of liquid and darkness and utter safety if he could just shoot in the very center of her. Hurt her as much as he hurts just existing.

"Yes! Baby, yes!" she screams. "Give it to me!"

"MOMMY!" he screams back at her and the word loses all meaning in the blinding light of his orgasm.

She never stays after he comes. He opens his eyes again a moment later, the next morning, the next night, and he's alone. The way he's always been. He can call Angel and meet him for coffee and wish for a minute that things were different. But he can still hear Holtz's lies in his head "evil. Devil. Kill," and the echoes of Darla pleading with him. "Don't kill... fuck me. Don't... fuck..." And he finds that sometimes he wants Angel the same way he wants that bizarre dream mother-lover, and so every time he decides never to call him again.

At least when he sleeps, all there is, is pleasure, and he never has to question whether he should exist at all.