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Newb Bearing FanFic

Hi everyone.

I've loved Gary Oldman for ages, but I really haven't been compelled to write fanfiction about his character (except Sirius) until watching Red Riding Hood. Go figure, right? I just felt like his character needed more...something. The whole film could have used a good injection of oomph.

Anyway, he was awesome in it, as always. So please enjoy this fic.

Title: The Girl with the Blue Eyes
Rating: R
Characters: Father Solomon and Valerie
Summary: Father Solomon noticed her. How could he not? A missing interrogation scene.

He noticed the girl the moment he stepped from his carriage. How could he not? Wide, guileless blue eyes, the sort of mouth a man could envision even in his deepest dreams. Skin as soft and white as the snow beneath his boots. Sending his children off to safety was the first thing on his mind, and yet he couldn't help but see the beautiful creature out of the corner of his eye.

Ignoring her was difficult, and yet he did not want to raise suspicion. Villages such as this one tended to be full of gossiping women and jealous young lads. A pretty girl like the one in the harlot's hood would not be a maid for long. She would have suitors. Perhaps two or three. And it would not do well for him and his quest to rid them of their wolf should he allow himself to fulfill his own...appetite. A man of God did not see women in their earthly forms, after all.

And so he pretended not to see her. Did not even glance her way. Until the night the wolf came.

She danced with another young girl whose hair was black as the devil's eyes. They danced like wanton Jezebels in front of a fire, heathens in tight bodices. Father Solomon licked his lips, tearing at the succulent spring lamb they had slaughtered for the feast, imagining the sweet, juicy flesh was her flesh.

The girl with the blue eyes fled with some handsome youth. The woodcutter's boy, son of the fool who'd died in pursuit of a common gray wolf. He might have followed them, see if the girl truly was a maid, had the wolf not shown itself.

When the worst had passed and the bodies lay strewn over the village, snow crimson with blood, he found her again. This time, the wolf was with her. This temptress, this pale siren could call even the foulest of beasts to her will. He knew then that it was not merely his own base instincts that drew him to her; she was a witch. She had to be stopped.

One of the girl's friends, sister to the wicked boy with the leaden tongue, entered his quarters later that evening in a bid to bargain for her brother's life. She had three offerings: three measly coins, a body as flat and uninteresting as her eyes – a poor substitute for his true desire - and the proof that the girl with the blue eyes was, indeed, a witch. It was just as he'd hoped.

They claimed the blue-eyed temptress, shackled her wrists and ankles, and brought her before the entire village to be tried. The accuser spoke of witchcraft, of commune with the wolf, and the girl with the blue eyes did not deny it.

"You see," Father Solomon grasped the chain that bound the beautiful young witch, "Even one who appears so chaste and virginal can be a consort of Satan."

The villagers gasped. One of the girl's suitors tried to defend her, but it was too late. She was condemned.

In the cells that evening, he visited her to hear her full confession. The girl was bound to a high-backed wooden chair, eyes wide with fear. She was dressed in a simple dress of pale-blue muslin, and goosebumps lined the milky flesh of her collarbone. He held the red cloak in his hands, silver fingernails stroking the delicate fabric as he spoke, circling her like a hunter at the kill.

"Have you lain with the wolf, child?"

She gazed up at him in confusion, "Father?"

"Have you lain with it. Has the wolf bedded you."

The girl shook her head, blonde curls tumbling from side to side, tears forming in those lovely eyes.

"Do not lie to me, child. I know you consort with the beast. Has his snout found your most secret of places? Even a lick and a nibble during a blood moon can turn you."

Her choked denials excited him. He had to control himself and gain her confession.

"Did you let the beast inside of you?" Father Solomon knelt before her, hands gently placed upon her thighs, parting them, "I must check your body for bite marks."

She turned her head away as he slowly pushed up her skirts, revealing cream-colored stockings and underclothes. He thumbed at her inner thighs, feeling for any imperfection or indentation. There were none; her skin was pure and smooth as a newborn babe's.

He knew he must resist. Knew the temptation, the desire, were workings of the devil upon his mortal soul. And yet, here before the girl, her cheeks flushed with what may have been shame but may also have been desire, he could not stop himself. He heard a gasp, felt her go completely rigid as he lowered his mouth to the inside of her right thigh, felt a chill race through her body as his breath passed over her womanhood. She smelled so sweet.

"Witch," he whispered up at her, "Unbind me from your spell," his lips caressed her skin, her thigh twitched, "Free me from this torment." His hands parted her knees even further as he pressed his face into her soft folds, the hair at her juncture the color of autumn fields.

The girl cried out, and he glanced up to see her sweet lips parted, her breath escaping in small pants as his tongue traced every curve of her damned flesh. "Release me," he commanded once more. She gazed down at him, a mixture of passion and hatred as he probed deeper into her core.

He devoured her.


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