Entry tags:

crossover, fandom: buffy the vampire slayer, fandom: pushing daisies, het, rating: r

Vinegar Pie: Crossover Fic (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Pushing Daisies)
Author: Bitterfig
Title: Vinegar Pie
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Pushing Daisies
Pairing: Faith/Ned
Summary: Faith wanted to purge the taste of sweetness.
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 364
Rating: R
Warnings: Dark Fic from a very light fandom. Dub-con.
Author’s Note: Written for Oxoniensis: Porn Battle VIII for the prompt “sweet”. I’m very ashamed of this story. Writing this was like stomping a big eyed puppy but it just sort of came to me in this form.

Vinegar Pie

She didn’t quite know what to make of the Piemaker. He killed people but he brought them back to life, or rather he killed people if he brought someone else back to life for over a minute… Or something like that. There were a lot of rules she didn’t quite understand.

Basically he was some kind of freak, supernatural but not a vampire or a demon, and Faith would have happily cut his head off or ripped his heart out but it didn’t seem to occur to him to fight her. He gave her pie and started explaining it all and after she’d listened for a while she really believed it wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t cast a spell or done anything wrong. He just had this power and was trying to deal with it.

He told her about his dead dog and his dead girlfriend (neither of whom was really dead but who would be if he touched them). He showed Faith a picture of the girlfriend, a pretty brunette woman in a bright vintage dress. They seemed made for each other.

It was all very sweet. He was sweet; the pecan praline chocolate pie was sweet. Maybe it was too sweet. It made her teeth hurt; it made her sort of angry.

So she fucked him.

He might be pining for the corpse in the thrift store dress, but when Faith got her tongue down his throat and her hand down his pants he reacted like any man would. He might have babbled about the girlfriend and not wanting it but he got hard. He came. As far as Faith was concerned that was equal to consent.

Until she realized he was crying, then she knew she’d gone too far. She took off. She never told anyone about it. She was supposed to be better than that now, she was supposed to have learned, but there was a part of her that remained vicious and dangerous.

She’d hated him for his innocence; she’d wanted to bring him down to her level, to purge the unaccustomed taste of sweetness out of her mouth. She only succeeded in replacing it with a familiar sourness.