100 words for 1000 word ficlet

Title: Home
Ratings/Category: NC17 Post Chosen
Pairing/Warnings: Willow/Oz - POV, Romance
Summary: Willow missed Oz as much as he missed her.




The first thing I’m aware of is the lack of warmth. After being so long without it, you would think that I’d be used to it by now. With Willow, it’s different. With Willow it’s like no time has passed at all but at the same time, it seems like forever. With Willow, it’s like coming home.

The second thing I’m aware of is the smell of pancakes.

That’s my Will. If she’s not buried in a book, she’s busy in the kitchen. It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since lunch the day before. Dinner was spent talking; unable to bear a single moment away from her. I’ve already spent what seems like a lifetime wandering; a hundred nomadic years and lost each time I left her before. I’ve since decided that I won’t ever leave her again. Even now, I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin, she’s so far away.

Rolling out of bed, I look down at my clothes which are hopelessly wrinkled. Then the ac kicks on and the burst of air that rushes out of the vent above me carries the scent of heat and oil and pancakes and Willow and it drives straight through me to the apex of my thighs and suddenly I no longer care that my pants are crumpled. I need to be near her.

As soon as I walk out of the bedroom, I see her and my legs seem to forget that we were in the process of walking as they stop and I blatantly stare. Her hair is wet; the dampness of it dulling the blazing sunset colour to a rich mahogany. Her face is bare of makeup and I can smell some raspberry-coconut concoction that I’m assuming is her body lotion since I could smell it on her last night when she buried herself in my more than willing arms. The sunlight coming in through the windows seems to make her glow, and she has never looked more beautiful to me than she does in this moment. Standing there at the stove poking at pancakes with a spatula, she is wearing my button-up from last night and not much else from what I can tell as her smooth legs are bare all the way to her toes from the hem of my shirt (which falls mid-thigh on her) and another shock goes through me and my crinkled pants feel a bit tighter than usual.

Then she turns, finding me standing here staring and her beautiful marbled eyes lock with mine and her cheeks stain with the faintest pink blush. Then she looks down noticing that my loose pants aren’t very loose and when she looks back up at me, she smiles, a small, sweet smile as the blush fades from her cheeks; her eyes confident and knowing and the wolf inside me stirs. Reaching out, she shuts off the stove without looking at it, her eyes still locked with mine and the next thing I know she is walking towards me and my legs suddenly seem to remember how to work and I walk a few paces to meet her by a rounded table already set for breakfast and then I can’t think anymore.

All I can see… all I can smell… all I can taste is Willow and she is kissing me, almost desperately and I feel like I’ve just come out of the desert after days without water; her lips are the only thing that can quench my thirst and I’m ravaging her mouth, wanting to drown myself in her kisses.

Willow. My Willow.

Her hands are all over, everywhere at once while mine are content being buried in her hair in either side of her face. Delving under the hem of my t-shirt, her fingertips trace over my ribcage, moving higher until my shirt is crammed beneath my armpits and she lays her palms flat against my pecs, lightly brushing them back and forth over my nipples and still I can’t stop kissing her.

I've missed this; this losing of myself before her only to find myself again inside of her and she has no idea what she does to me.

Her teeth sink into my bottom lip, biting firmly before pulling it into her mouth and sucking on it lightly and another bolt goes through my gut and into my groin and I’m so hard by this time I’m in danger of passing out from such a significant reversal of blood-flow.

She pulls her head back, her breath coming in ragged little pants as she leans forward, pressing kisses all along my jaw up to the sensitive spot just beneath my ear and her tongue flicks out against it before her teeth sink lightly into my earlobe and I’m not close enough; I need more. I need to be closer and I step forward, pressing into her and trapping her between me and the table pressing into the soft globes of her ass.

I can smell her arousal and its all I can do to keep from throwing her on top of the table and taking her like an animal; like the animal I am inside; wanting to just bury myself inside her warmth and drive into her over and over and over until the aching stops.

She pulls back again, wiggling, her hands moving down, unbuttoning my pants as the zipper slides open and her feet come up and I realize she is sitting on the table and she uses them to help shove my pants down around my thighs. Then her hands are reaching again, one grabbing my ass and pulling me closer while the other wraps around me and guides my throbbing hardness to her and she is pulling at me, gliding me into her warmth until I’m buried deep within her body and all I can feel is Willow.

And it feels like coming home.