Family Values
by Voleuse

i. Anya

Everything on the shelves looks familiar. At least, she thinks they do, as she taps a glass jar filled with...dandelions? Tiny marigolds? Something magical, anyway.

They are her things, and this is her supply room, and her store. Everything should look familiar.

"Find anything useful?"

She spins around, wincing as the jar crashes to the floor. She probably could have sold that.

"Randy! I didn't hear you." She searches for a broom. "You're lucky I didn't cast a magic spell on you."

"So you found something," he says, handing a dustpan to her. His left hand runs down his torso, but she decides not to think about it.

"No. Not yet." She glares at him, then notices the broom propped against the wall. "But there must be something around here. This is a magic store. There are magic supplies in it."

"Good thing. Joan's talking about taking the fight to the vampires now." He shakes his head. "She's going to get us all killed."

"No, she won't." Anya rolls her eyes. "I'm going to cast a spell and fix everything. After I clean up my merchandise. Now, move."

Randy doesn't budge as she reaches around him. At least not until she's a foot away from him, and then he grabs her by the waist, and she remembers that he's ruggedly handsome, and he smells like leather even though he's wearing tweed, like his father, and she can't remember the last time she and Rupertů


"Randy!" She clutches his lapel, in protest. "This isn't right."

"What's not?" he asks her left ear, before pulling her closer. She wonders, for a second, how old he is.

"I'm engaged to your father. We're going to get married, and he'll still be your father, and that would make me--"

"Call me Oedipus, then." His other hand runs down her back, and she decides that she'll call him whatever he wants.

It's just sex, after all.


ii. Rupert

His fiancee has been missing for a while, and he supposes he should go look for her. His son has been gone, too, but he isn't as worried. Any son of his should be able to take care of himself.

Joan is busy whittling chair legs, and everyone else reassuring Alex, so he decides he can slip down to the basement to check on Anya.

The stairs creak rather loudly as he descends, the third to the last emitting a prolonged groan.

Then he turns the corner, and realizes that it wasn't the stair that groaned, and that Anya's skirt is twisted, and Randy's hands are clutching at her hair as her head bobs up and down in his lap.

It takes a moment before his mind puts all these pieces together, and he thinks that he should be offended. Enraged, even, that his betrothed is giving his son some heavenly fellatio, if Randy's exclamations can be taken seriously. He should feel offended, but he's not. He feels surprised. And challenged.

Randy's eyes snap open, meeting his. "Dad."


Anya doesn't even pause.

"I'm sure Mum's up for another round," Randy taunts, and defiance flickers over his face.

Rupert wants to object, but she moans, and he watches, fascinated, as her knees edge apart. He thinks that must be uncomfortable on the cement.

When her left hand snakes down, between, all thoughts of protest die.


iii. Randy

He's trying not to look at his father, so he gazes at Anya instead. She's growling, and he's tempted to join her, especially when she grazes him with her teeth, dragging him over the edge.

She swallows, almost without noticing, then rests her cheek against his thigh with a moan, her body shaking each time Rupert thrusts into her.

Her eyebrows scrunch together, which he thinks is cute, until he looks up and sees his father, pounding into her with gusto.

He doesn't look half bad for a geezer his age. He even speeds up, making Anya wail, over and over.

Randy already knows what her face looks like when she comes, and he catches his dad's expression instead, eyes half-lidded and teeth bared.

When his eyes open, Randy starts. A nasty grin teases the edge of Rupert's mouth.

"Did she scream for you?"


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