Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

   "You have no idea." Willow settles back on the blanket, strawberry between her lips. Dead sexy as she stretches, both hands above her head, wanton effect only marginally spoiled by a goofy smile.

   Faith smiles and leans down, elbows on either side boxing her in, one knee slipping between her own. Soft lips linger at the curve of her neck, the edge of her mouth, rounded softness coming together; she smothers a yelp at the unexpected nip, but Faith's already moved in for the kill: Biting down, drawing out contact until the fruit divides, showing off her half before folding it inside her mouth.

   "Whaddya say?"

   "Mmm." Willow licks her lips as she grins up. "Thank you, ma'am...may I have another?"

   Faith reaches over, dangles the morsel just out of reach. Willow's expecting Say please, or What's the magic word?, but the Slayer just bites the stem off, spits it to one side before taking the remaining berry in her mouth, leaning down with a look of intent expectation.

   She takes her sweet time returning the gesture, dainty nibbles that occasionally stray to include lips of Faith, lapping up any juices that dare attempt escape. Teeth sink in her bottom lip, hard enough to hurt before soothing wet covers the bite, sting and zing through her blood; Willow grips the blanket and realizes they're downright writhing: Nothing conspicuous or grindy, slow back-and-forth that makes all the right places fit together just so. Eager mouth pursues the last of the berry inside as her hands rise, ravel through piles of sweet-smelling hair, and she's trying to find the line between feeding frenzy and a real kiss when Faith pulls back with glittering eyes, a knowing smile.

   "Okay down there?"

   Willow sits up on one elbow, striving for composure. "Five by five."

   A chuckle, as Faith produces another strawberry. "You sure?"

   She doesn't react and the Slayer looms overhead, right in her face, forcing her to lean back. The danger smile is at least an eight as Faith holds up the berry.

   "Talk. Or I put this where the sun don't shine."

   Her eyes widen a fraction before she offers a subtle grin. "Actually, there are a lot of amusing ritual uses for menstrual blood, in --"

   "I meant your ass, Red." The dangerous expression grows thoughtful. "Not a bad idea either."

   Willow's not quite sure if the noise she just made qualifies as an eep, but Faith doesn't appear to notice. Or care.

   She lays there, twiddling her fingers. "It's just...I don't want you to be disappoin--"

   "With what?" Another nip at her neck, not as hard. "The part where I screw you into a limp bag of meat?"

   "Um --"

   "Still workin' on that." Hot breath tingles the bitten spot. "Or maybe after...where you follow me around like a happy puppy?"

   "Um." The repetition is even shakier than the original. "More of a, cat person these days. And, the first -- doesn't sound like much fun for the bag."

   "Funny." Faith zeroes in, apparently seeing something more; sits up, looking a good deal less cocky.

   "I just --" Sooner or later, you just have to quit worrying about sounding stupid. "I want you to feel safe with me."

   The Slayer frowns, puzzled. "Okay -- wasn't expectin' that. You mean --"

   Words stop in their tracks at the kiss, turning to silent, hungry response as she climbs into Faith's lap, twines her arms about the Slayer in a grip that could hurt a normal person; doing her utmost to devour the other woman inside out, pulling away with swollen lips and flashing eyes.

   "I mean."

   "Whoa." Faith looks a trifle dazed; definitely pleased. "So...you wanna be on top, sometimes?"

   "It doesn't have to be literal." Willow quashes the shyness with an effort. "I just want to...take a more active role. Do stuff for you, without --"

   "I get it." No lie, from the look of it. "Still hungry?"

   Shy turns sly. "Not for food."

   The warning signs have time to register when she finds herself in the air, hoisted over one shoulder. "Hey!"

   "You sit tight, huh?" Faith stands and steps off the blanket, holding Willow steady as she kneels to repack. "Lemme do the heavy liftin'."

   Willow suppresses a snicker, envisioning her undignified position from an outside perspective. On the other hand, this view has its advantages. She briefly weighs the consequences of giving in to temptation.

   "My god. Did Superwoman just call me fat?"

   The world bobs and rotates as Faith turns, walking uphill toward the house, blanket and basket in her free hand. "Want me to club ya over the head? Drag ya by the hair?"

   "At least let me carry something --"

   "Shush." Faith beats her to it again, releasing her long enough to smack her upturned hindquarters.

   "Big bully! Barbarian! Cave Slayer --" Willow beats a tattoo on her abductor's back with both fists. Another shriek escapes when Faith lets go to open the door, and she ends up with a double handful of hips in her effort to maintain balance.

   "Settle down, chick." Faith sounds more than mildly amused, depositing her human cargo on the counter; handing a flustered witch the basket and cooler. "You wanna put stuff away, be my guest. But if I were you, I'd be takin' advantage of the mush while it lasts."

   "You think it's likely to stop?" That sounded way more taken aback than she wanted. Faith shrugs as she opens the fridge, and Willow reflexively starts handing over various items.

   "Can't live on cloud nine. Might be on vacation, but we're still in the business. And y'know, it's crazy, but -- I hear even normal folks got their ups and downs."

   The Slayer finishes stowing the goods, looks up to a face apparently more worried than she realized.

   "Hey." Faith takes the basket from her lap, sets it to one side. "Chill. I just wanna spoil ya a little longer, okay? It --" Something catches in her voice, and rough fingers cup Willow's cheek. "It's your day."

   The only thing that leaps to mind is stupid words, and Willow isn't sure who moves first. Her hands roam over muscular shoulders, rising to pull Faith's hair back; feeling fingers trailing down her sides, gathering up her dress in a maneuver the still-functioning part of her cerebrum classifies as not quite sneaky.

   She wonders later how they made it upstairs, what with hands everywhere; working soreness from her back, slipping into her dress. They hit the top of the stairs in a liplock, rampant ravaging in both directions as they make their way down the hall, narrowly missing portraits on the wall as the doorway looms. Willow's trying to decide if it's better standing when she's lifted again, into strong arms.

   The urge to kick and flail prettily loses to a giggle. "I can walk too, you know."

   "I know." Faith sounds utterly guilt-free. "Some traditions are kinda cool."

   She leans in for a nuzzle. "Don't suppose you'd be interested in the evil-spirits history behind all that?"

   "Later. Watch your feet --" Faith turns sideways, and Willow hugs tight as they enter.

   "Careful." The Slayer grins, hugging back. "Keep forgettin' ya ain't B--" She stops, forehead against Willow's. "Strong. Tough, I meant, and...you wanna hand me my feet anytime, I think I still got room --"

   "Shush." Willow closes her eyes, snuggling deeper. "This is nice. I feel safe." Her voice grows quiet. "Protected."

   An awkward cough. "Weren't you the one wantin' a modern relationship? With the equality and all?"

   She smiles into Faith's chest. "What's that supposed to mean?"

   "Hm." The pretense is beautifully transparent. "I bring home the bacon -- or whatever -- we take turns cookin', and whoever's less sick or banged up does the comfort?"

   Willow looks up, nervous tinged with mischievous. "You'd like that?"

   "Well, not the sick and banged up part, but -- sounds fair to me." Faith's grip remains solid; feels like they could stand here forever. "It's no big. You don't need to prove anything --"

   "Then kiss me."

   Sunlight filters through gauzey curtains, bathing the room in haze, and another giggle threatens until kissage takes precedence. Languid, unhurried; Willow could pretty much do this all day.

   She pulls away, with sparkling eyes.

   "Put me down."

   Adoration takes on a wicked air. "What do I get?"

   "Hopefully?" She reins in the smile. "A surprise."

   Faith looks puzzled, yet curious, obliging her request. One second, two --

   "Whoa --!" The dramatic pause is superfluous icing on top of sweeping a stunned Slayer literally off her feet; spinning them around in a whirl of laughter and flying hair. Shock and delight register just as Faith is hurled onto the bed with a whoop, bouncing once before Willow lands atop her, wearing an enormous grin.

   "What the hell!" Real surprise in the Slayer's voice; all kinds of curious. "Been eatin' your Wheaties?"

   "Berry magic." Her grin turns mysterious. "Can you feel it?"

   Faith stretches, adds an enticing wriggle. "Feel somethin'. S'like..." She pauses in mid-thought, one hand rising to her chest as the oddest look comes over her face. Willow isn't sure of every ingredient, but a mind at work has a look all its own, adorable and sexy in one package.

   "This is..." Faith's other hand finds hers, but the Slayer seems lost in thought, somewhere far off and away. "Wild. You --" Eyes clear as she returns from where ever. "You got it -- from me?"

   "Head of the class." The smile wavers. "It's not stolen, or anything --"

   "Hey, ease up. It feels -- nice." Faith lowers her voice, like they're sharing a secret. "So what's the one-syllable scoop on this spell?"

   "Not technically a spell. More of a ritual."

   "What's the diff?"

   "Sorry -- more syllables." Willow reflects a moment. "Spells create energy, or harness it, and then apply it. Ritual focuses on what's already there. It doesn't create anything, and it's not like harnessing, or binding -- more like, you tap into the essence of the thing. That's why long spells have so much ritual, to sustain the caster...make it easier to control, and this is probably boring you to tears --"

   A reassuring squeeze. "C'mon, teach. Make with the impartin' while I'm all receptive."

   "You sure?" She cocks one eyebrow, trying for seductive. "You're making it kinda hard."

   Faith's gaze drifts southward. "Not unless there's somethin' else ya been hidin'."

   Willow lands a playful slap, as a hand strays into her waist seam. "So. When I fought Buffy -- that was cheating. In a big way. I was drawing on forces -- well. Long story short --"

   "Cheating."

   "But when she meditated with me, after Gnarl? To heal me? And the other day, with my headache? That was different. For all kinds of reasons, and -- I can't help it, this is gonna sound so cheesy, but -- it's the smoochies, all right?"

   The Slayer's face splits in a grin, and Willow rushes on. "It's attuned to positive emotion, that's all. The smoochies are like, a catalyst. Or a side effect --"

   "Some side effect." Faith pondering is indeed a sight to encourage. "Incredible Hulk in reverse?"

   "Oh, no. No hulking out. For the Buffy beatdown, I had the whole package -- strength, speed, skill, toughness...you name it. But I'm not draining your power, or reducing it. I'm just sharing your essence, and the...um..." Her face colors. "Intimacy...not just physical -- it creates this feedback loop. The longer it's sustained, the more I can draw from you without nasty side effects. But it can never be as powerful as the original source. It's like a shadow, but -- from the moon, instead of the sun?"

   She looks down, expecting boredom.

   "Cool! You'll totally be able to save me." Faith pulls her into a hug. "Assumin' the bad guys only try to knock me out while we're mackin'."

   "Usually not that considerate." The train of her mind is threatening derailment again, but the Slayer releases her with a thoughtful look.

   "Think I could learn some of that stuff, too? Or do you have to be born witchy?"

   "Sure!" Willow feels a little thrill, deep inside. "No, Dawn's picked up a lot, and she's not really...um." A slight cough. "Pretend I was never here?"

   "Right there with ya." Faith stretches with both hands, mirroring Willow's earlier pose. "So you share my strength, huh? Anything else?"

   "Just physical attributes. Not that kind," she warns, hastening on. "Muscle, resilience -- those are energy. Reflexes are more subtle, more...complex. I'd need a spell to take out moving targets at a hundred paces. And things like weapon skills, prophetic dreams -- those are strictly part of the Slayer heritage. I'm just not built for it."

   Faith mulls this over. "Why a strawberry?"

   "Every ritual needs a focus." Something isn't right; the Slayer appears lost in contemplation, and not necessarily of the good. "Penny for your thoughts?"

   Faith looks up, clearly apprehensive.

   "This is -- so we don't have to worry? About you?"

   Understanding kicks in, at least in part. "Hey, no. It's not --"

   "One more. For me?"

   Willow silently nods as a strong hand encompasses her own.

   "Xander -- when he saw us that night, and jumped to conclusionville? Felt like he was the only one actually worried about you. Everyone else, it was like -- no big deal. Bad-ass witch can take care of herself." The Slayer's voice is very quiet. "I won't hurt you."

   "I know." Faith still looks like she's gnawing on mental fingernails as Willow continues. "And I trust you. But I don't think you'll ever believe me..." She looks into brown eyes, her own glossy and black, rimmed in green.

   "Unless I show you."

   A tiny poof fills the air, and fades.

   "See? All gone." She leans closer; the merest breath of space between them. "Just you and me..."

   The quiet sigh as their lips meet is unlike anything she's ever heard. Hands slide up her flanks, over her shoulders; Faith's hesitant response is growing bolder, incoherent murmurs that sound vaguely obscene, make Willow want to tear her pretty new outfit to shreds in her haste to feel skin.

   She doesn't let up as she allows herself to be rolled over. "You're shaking."

   "Tryin' not to break your ribs..." Teeth sink in her ear, drawing a gasp. Faith sounds equally tightly wound, body draped across hers, fingers fumbling at the buttons of her blouse. "Please tell me you ain't wearin' a -- oh thank god..."

   "Not a requirement for some of us --" Willow stares down in rapt fascination, watching herself crinkle under the oral assault. "Don't tell me you -- haven't had practice..."

   "Don't want anything in my way..." Faith's right hand finds Willow's unoccupied left, circles her wrist in a gentle vise. She nearly whines in frustration.

   "But --"

   "Ya still got one." A particularly hard suck sends a jolt through her frame, as the other hand disappears under her skirts. "Use it."

   "Not fair..." Her protest turns to a sigh as Faith massages upward. Blunt nails drag across her skin, different kind of tension coiling inside.

   "Know what I want?"

   She trembles at the sound of that voice, at fingertips on cotton; helpless to keep from pushing back at this too-gentle touch.

   "These. Off."

   Willow does too; can't think of a single reason not. Which is odd, because she's sounding downright sassy.

   "What'll you give me for 'em?"

   Faith looks up, releasing her nipple with an audible pop.

   "Give ya?" The Slayer lets go long enough to grab the other hand; presses closer, pinning Willow's arms overhead. Her eyes are bright and wide, reckless smile dripping sweetness, flushed skin beginning to resemble the first strawberry, and Willow thinks her own must also look frighteningly huge. Maybe frightened, in spite of everything.

   "Whatever I want." Lips on her neck, fingers sliding up and over waistband. "And after --" Winding in from offsides, tugging clingy material from dampening flesh. "After..."

   "You said that already --" She lifts in cooperation and Faith gives a yank, pulling her underwear down her legs, twisting round her ankles til they come free, only to be tossed aside. The roaming hand runs up her thigh, sliding her dress along with; detouring to follow the curve of her hip, over her abdomen.

   "If you're real good..." She tenses at the splay of fingers, heavy pressure on her mons that lightens and descends as the mouth grows more demanding, travelling from neck to chest and back again. Her legs part almost on their own, hips angling toward the moving hand that's already retreating, nails raking ticklish ribs. Willow shivers, swallowing a moan of disappointment.

   "If you're good..." The grip on her wrists tightens, Faith's other hand meandering lazily between her breasts, over her shoulder. "I'll let ya get your hands on me..."

   "Oh --" The Slayer grabs her chin, holding her in place for another kiss; working toward her ear, biting down when Willow tries to turn her head. "Hey!"

   Faith laughs and now she can move, nuzzling warm neck, returning the favor with a nip of her own. Fingers dig in her thigh, just this side of pain.

   "C'mon, Red." The husky voice sounds remarkably peaceful. "Open wide."

   "Oh, god..." Willow's eyes shut in reflex as she obeys, cool air caressing the ache between her thighs; cheeks aflame to envision herself laid out like a sacrifice, hair wild and tousled, breasts exposed and spittle-slick. Fingers come to rest on her quivering center, and she looks up to an unreadable smile.

   "Hey?" That came out more questiony than intended. The grin broadens.

   "Damn. You're --" Faith falls silent, seemingly overcome.

   The grip on her wrists eases as Willow shifts, staring up. "Easy?"

   "Sexy." Faith leans in, unblinking, so close she can't turn away. Willow can feel herself swell, spread further under insistent fingers working in growing juices, fast becoming a swamp. Or maybe jungle is a nicer image, but rational thought is coming undone under this ever more insinuating touch; dig and dip at her edges and deeper, two vaguely becoming three, thumb (feels like) caressing the hardening knot above, all the while pinned just as much by that gaze.

   "Like?"

   "Very..." The anxiety is starting to dissolve as she lies there, held down at both ends, unable to repress a giggle at the notion. No matter what else is in those eyes, Willow would swear there is love; rough and difficult, but love nonetheless she longs to return.

   "Then talk to me." Suddenly she's empty and squirming; Faith never breaking eye contact, hungrily licking her fingers 'til they glisten. Willow's mouth has gone dry, probably because all the moisture in her body seems to be concentrating elsewhere, turning her into one big puddle.

   "Words..." Faith reaches down for fresh plunder, nipping at her neck. "Not so good...right now --" The sentence turns to a stutter as she feels herself filled again, in one smooth stroke.

   "That's cool too..." The strain in Faith's voice is evident, arms tense with the effort of holding back; no in or out, just agonizingly casual rocking that reaches all the softer, deeper spots. Inner muscles pulse and quake, overpacing the slow movement within, subsiding to gentle tremors. "Means you're speechless."

   "Thoughts -- mostly non-verbal..."

   "Want more?"

   For a second she thinks more fingers, caught on a precipice of indecision. Faith is licking her lips, very deliberate, like --

   "Oh god no --" Faith's eyes widen and Willow hurries on, low and desperate. "Too sensitive, just -- just do me like this --"

   One eyebrow rises, grin slowly turning lecherous.

   "Whatever you want. But I gotta get a taste."

   "Wha--"

   "An' so do you." Her body cries out at the shock of absence, at fingers on her lips, her own scent heady and overwhelming through the growing musk in the air. Willow hesitates only a moment before eagerly accepting, weak-kneed to see that determined expression melt as she suckles; all too aware of the obvious symbology and knowing makes her suck harder, until those fingers are brushing her throat.

   Faith growls as she draws back, lapping down to her knuckles and forcing them apart, putting every ounce of longing into an imploring gaze.

   "Damn, woman..." The Slayer pulls loose, silencing any objections with a brutal kiss. Willow's hands are abruptly free, immediately tangling through all that hair as it trails down her body; lips tracing pale freckles along her skin, hands knotting in her dress, pushing it up over her legs, around her waist. One cheek comes to rest on her thigh, and Faith inhales greedily, eyes dragged downward.

   "Always knew you were a natural..." The hot breath is exquisite torture, a spark of embarassment.

   "Natural?"

   "Redhead..." She watches, shallow breathed, as hands travel under her thighs, lifting as Faith bends down, tongue grazing the dividing line of uncharted territory. Willow lets out a squeal, very nearly calls a halt before throwing her head back, pushing thought away; it's getting easier and harder by the second, what with hot velvet snaking along and between, long and slow from top to bottom. Her hips rise to meet that searing wet but it's already gone, fingernails drawing a whimper from deep in her throat.

   She looks down to Faith, cheeks wet and shining.

   "Open wide, Red. Means eyes too."

   "Please..." Willow sounds very small, to herself, and possibly this wasn't the best choice of words. Faith grins, in a way that can only spell trouble.

   "Please what?" The Slayer's voice is raw silk as she crawls back on the bed, dragging her captive to the edge, almost demure as she kneels and settles in to feast. Willow reaches out blindly for the hands on her thighs, desperately wanting to return this touch. Fingers clasp hers in acknowledgment but Faith is intent on her task; pushing her legs back, teasing the taut cluster of nerves beginning to peek out.

   "Was that a...rhetorical...question --" She's being split in a million pieces, thoughts splintering every which way as she unfolds under this loving caress: Wanting to laugh, at how years of fighting vampires haven't made the words eat me into something horrid; unable to speak for the nervy, jangling tightness spreading further, and the dissociative amazement of Faith, doing this, to her. Willow bites her lip in concentration, cramping heat rising in her tummy, a little grunt wrenches from her then Faith's buried between her legs and this is no longer dainty licking, hands hold her thighs apart and she's being eaten alive, tongue burrowing up and inside like a snake as she shakes and spasms.

   Somehow she reaches down, seizes a hank of hair in one fist, fighting to keep her eyes open. The Slayer's movements slow to an easy, irregular rhythm; sometimes straining deep, swirling inside; sometimes glued to her center, humming with satisfaction, alternating sucking with insistent nibbles. It's the last time she does it, eyes still fixed on Willow's, that thin heat rolls through like a storm front, seconds later she thinks she must be pulling hair out --

   When everything stops, dissolves into a slow, sobbing kiss that becomes Faith looking down with infinite tenderness.

   "Sshh...s'okay..." Willow dives into strong limbs and warm bosom, torn between reassurance and release. One arm cradles her as the Slayer stretches out alongside. "'S'alright. I gotcha..."

   Near frantic, on the verge of tears; electric thrill at the taste of herself on those lips. "I just --"

   "I know..." She watches, immobile, as Faith suckles at her fingers again; reaching down, slowly working back inside, letting girth do the job instead of length. Willow can feel her hips bearing down, forcing glorious fullness deeper as her hands work through all that hair, trying to encourage more kissing and sucking without actually yanking; nipples and neck under tormenting siege, her breath quickens when Faith pushes just a little harder, whispers Come on, yeah, like that...feels so good, the way you squeeze, come all over me and she loses sight when her eyes roll back, she does that every time and everything

   is fire, and flood

   She comes back to Faith still inside, holding her close, soothing away aftershocks.

   "Don't --" Willow grabs the Slayer by the wrist, buries her face in the other woman's neck. "Don't go..."

   Faith only hugs tighter, producing a solitary sniffle. Willow's lips trace patterns on skin, her voice a whisper.

   "Not gonna cry..."

   "God, I hope not."

   Laughter bubbles inside at this casual humor, a hint of actual trepidation, and the spell is broken.

   "Careful --" She mewls and shudders, tipping her hips up as Faith eases out. Strong arms wrap around her and Willow is free to cling; heart and mind at peace, the very definition of starstruck, sun and moonstruck into the bargain.

   "Oh..." Little shivers run throughout, conditioned air cold on all her wet spots. Faith's breathing is slow and deep, a marathon runner flush with first wind, just hitting stride.

   A light kiss lands on her head. "Wanna buy another vowel?"

   "You..." Aching legs give way, collapsing to the mattress.

   "Wait, I know this. Oh, you, eight --"

   "As in --" Tears blossom as Willow hugs back, so hard one of them must surely break. "Thank you..."

   Another chuckle, more nervous. "First time I heard that one."

   Her own anxiety pales compared to this familiar defensiveness. Willow draws back, holding Faith's gaze.

   "I mean it."

   "Kinda feels like I should be sayin' it." One hand strays lower, stroking her pubic hair; rearranging her dress at a more modest angle.

   "Then say it..." She pulls Faith down, blindly covering her face and neck with kisses. "God, Goddess...you can tell me anything, you hear me? Anything..."

   The Slayer returns her embrace, kissing tears away. A quiet whisper tickles her ear.

   "I'm on the rag."

   She giggles, smacks Faith on the ass, hard. "Big faker."

   "Heh." Lips smile against her cheek. "Guess my poker face ain't what it used to be."

   Willow throws both arms around the Slayer, dress falling to her hip as she slides one foot along that taut, sinuous body. "God, do you have any idea -- how long it's been..."

   "Since --" Faith lifts her head, startled.

   Willow just looks back, watching the play of emotions from disbelief to dawning realization. Faith opens her mouth, shuts it; going lip-bitey as she does the math.

   "A year and a month." She reaches up to caress neck and shoulders, massaging away sudden tension. "Plus a few days."

   "Tara." It's not a question, but Faith appears shaken, if not incredulous. "Jesus, you mean -- not even since we been here? Y'know -- solo?"

   Her only reply is a tighter embrace.

   "Damn." The inevitable joke telegraphs itself a mile away. "You think you got performance anxiety?"

   Willow smiles, with a tinge of sadness. "Wasn't really in the mood."

   Faith raises one eyebrow.

   "Well, until you..." The blush feels stronger than ever. "Said something. And then we were -- busy."

   "I think you were dyin' for it when you popped inside my head." Faith is comfortably stretched out on top, one leg wrapped around Willow's own. "Just didn't know it yet."

   She ducks her head, abruptly shy. "Maybe."

   "No maybes about it. If you were a guy, you'da been backed up to your eyeballs."

   "Ew!"

   A soft laugh, as Faith brushes locks of hair from her forehead. "Not exactly complainin' here."

   The kiss is slow, and Willow responds in kind; fire rising as Faith broadens her coverage from cheeks to jawline, licking like a kitten at the corners of her mouth. Her hands slide down to the hem of the shirt, inside over smooth skin, powerful muscle. Make that a lion cub...

   Faith moans, bites down a little too hard on her earlobe, and Willow squeals, digging her own nails in. Hard cords of back muscle tremble and dip as the Slayer arcs against her, bodies pressing through thin cotton. The jeans aren't exactly painted on but they're too tight to get into, and clothes are an increasingly silly idea.

   "How about you?"

   "Mmm." The teeth remain firmly attached. "Bit longer. Wasn't keepin' track."

   "Really?" Surprise overwhelms lusty, and Faith relinquishes her prize.

   "With someone else? Yeah."

   "Oh, your torrid prison romance?" Faith just snorts. Willow slides her hands up and over deltoids, subconsciously ticking off lateral, anterior... "What about...solo?"

   An offhand shrug. "Couple days."

   "Really." The hesitation is hardly necessary to put two and two together. "Was it a nice shower?"

   "Hell yeah. 'Course, I was thinkin' about you." Faith's grin grows wicked. "And Xander."

   She feels her eyes widen. "Okay...not quite the response I was looking for --"

   "You do remember I almost hit that again instead, right?"

   The Slayer sounds utterly unselfconscious, and Willow has to smile.

   "I seem to recall that discussion."

   "So, not talkin' fratboy fantasy. Just...y'know." The pink tip of a tongue emerges, running over full lips. "Lotta history there."

   Willow tries not to sound too skeptical. "A history of once?"

   "Hey, for me? Seein' 'em after? That's a lot." Still with the lip-moistening, and something in those eyes reminds her of clothes flukes, hot stolen kisses. For the first time, thinking of Faith and her best friend and not feeling sad; in fact --

   "Sounds like fun. I mean --" No idea, which of them is redder. Maybe her, imagining what can make this woman blush. "Sounds like you had fun."

   "Good times." Faith is swaying gently back and forth; casually lifting Willow's arms, nudging both hands toward her chest. "But I'm thinkin' you could show me a better one."

   She grins as her palms glide over stiffening nipples. "Might be hard to top your fantasies." Hips settle in her lap with a grind, brown eyes flaring at her experimental pinch. "Speaking of being on top..."

   Faith leans down with a look of friendly challenge. Willow steels herself for another nip, but the Slayer merely hovers overhead; lips a tantalizing fraction away, curled in a faint smile.

   "Let's see what you can do from down there."

   She wraps herself completely around the other woman, cutting off any further nonsense with a kiss. Grabs hair, involuntarily pushing up and then there's nothing in- about it, steamy denim rubbing hard against her thigh; free hand exploring sloping curves, over and down, toying with the top button of Faith's jeans.

   The Slayer apparently can't resist providing assistance, and Willow grins. "Eager much?"

   "Ready to pop -- bit of an understatement..." Faith pauses in mid-unbutton, radiating embarrassment before sitting up. "Don't move --"

   It doesn't take a rocket scientist as the Slayer quickly unlaces and removes her boots; tosses them on the floor with a thud, crawling over to recapture waiting lips. The excitement is contagious, kindling desire burning away her carefully constructed plan to hear her girlfriend beg. Fingers intertwine, fumbling with the remaining buttons, and Willow seizes her opportunity, working under the top; taking advantage of the arching back to completely remove it, briefly interrupting the kiss.

   She forces herself to go slow, both hands encompassing the more substantial chest before her. Drinks in the sight, momentarily speechless; thoughtless, even, apart from something like gosh, look at that, and there is so very much nice at which to look, Willow can almost forget she's still hanging out of her own dress. Her eyes focus on a contender for world's cutest navel before sliding down, halting at the fine white line just below.

   The Slayer looks ready to speak, falls silent as fingers come to rest on the faded scar.

   "I never knew this was here." The witch's voice is soft, almost reverent.

   Faith shivers as arms circle her waist, soft kisses ghosting her belly. Hands hover nervously over Willow's shoulders, seemingly unwilling to grab on. Or so it feels, though the link between them is long faded, and Willow has never prided herself on any special insight into the minds of others.

   She tries another nip, rewarded with a satisfying yelp. "Wuss."

   "More --" The words break off in a hiss, curve of stomach rippling under her fingers. Willow looks up with a hesitant smile.

   "More of that?"

   "Whatever you got..." Hands wind in her hair, urging her on, and the pure hunger on that face is almost too much.

   Willow shivers, remains very still.

   "Hey. I just meant --" The Slayer's fingers remain comfortably entwined; lust undiminished, despite the return of the dark and troubled she wears so well. "Whatever you got -- I can take it." Her lips brush Willow's forehead, husky voice thickening further. "I want it."

   "I --" The heat of those words doesn't offset the cold twinge in her belly. For a split second she isn't touching this body but wearing another's skin; looking into loving eyes as the chasm yawns beneath.

   "You want me...to hurt you?"

   Faith looks thrown, then actually laughs, leans in with a smile. Willow feels her embarrassment muted by the thrill of contact, breasts coming together soft and hard.

   "Plenty of time." The Slayer's breath is warm at her throat, one hand stroking the length of her back. "If that's what you're into..."

   "No -- I mean --" Faith isn't stopping; lifting up her skirts, delving from behind into her, still dripping

   (say it, God, say anything)

   "Not so much with the Mistress of Pain?" Faith sounds perfectly at ease, even as the hand at her ass gives an ungentle squeeze that makes Willow moan, push back and wriggle all at once.

   "Just do what comes natural..." Their breaths are definitely coming harder, awkward hands working together, pushing pulling jeans and underwear down; Faith kicking away clothes without a thought to where they land before crawling back into her lap, straddling her with a look of absolute hunger. "Might not've been waitin' as long as some people --"

   Her mouth goes dry again as the Slayer grabs her hand, raises it to her lips to slather and suckle with something approaching desperation. The air conditioning is starting to become lost in their combined heat; sweat under clothes, on exposed skin.

   She hazards a guess. "Long enough?"

   "Fuckin' A..." The growl of approval and shifting hips as she reaches down leave little doubt she's on the right track. Faith feels just as imagined, wild and untrimmed. Slickened fingers briefly fumble, find their target, gathering wet before responding to unsubtle pressure; pushing deep, curling up.

   The Slayer freezes above, trembling with effort or enjoyment. Willow ignores her aching shoulder, leans up to capture an earlobe.

   "Don't hold back..."

   The gritting of teeth is a tangible thing. "I squeeze the wrong way, you lose an arm --"

   She reaches round back with her free hand, grabs hard. Faith actually moans into her mouth.

   "Then I guess you'll have to be careful." Willow can't help sounding pleased, with herself and the results. "In a...passionate, unrestrained kind of way."

   The Slayer merely twists in her grasp, shimmies 'til another digit slips in, bringing another quiet hiss, and a smile of delight from Willow. Faith's eyes are closed, hips moving in delicate circles; face a study in concentration as a low rumble issues from her throat. "God, that's so fuckin' good..."

   "Yeah?" She reaches up to grab dangling hair; barely has to pull before Faith leans back, arching as her mouth latches on. "Want more?"

   Faith shivers, smiling at the slight mumble. "I ain't too sensitive..."

   "How bad do you want it?"

   The tone is casual but Faith's eyes practically fly open, staring with equal lust and curiosity. She stiffens as Willow eases out; nostrils flaring at the sight of the witch suckling her own fingers, pressing against her in a crush of breasts and lips and all.

   "Enough to let me drive?"

   "Think you can take me?"

   The Slayer's voice is soft despite the trademark cockiness, an unquiet edge. Willow smiles.

   "If you let me." And that's how it appears to be going, or growing harder to deny with each moment, because there's a difference between passive acquiescence and whatever its polar opposite is that involves, not just allowing oneself to be pushed back and down among the pillows, but becoming an active participant. Because Faith is looking more turned on than ready to bolt, if not by the greatest of margins.

   "Why would I wanna do that?"

   "Because I want it." She ignores the subtle remaining challenge; half-kisses, half-crawls her way down the other woman's body as Faith watches in silence. A small sound of protest escapes when Willow's hands abandon her breasts to the chill air.

   "And because we both know..." Gently, oh-so firmly insinuates herself between; shoulders encouraging thighs apart as she nestles in, dips her head for the softest possible kiss.

   "I'll make it worth your while."

   The Slayer's breath is ragged; hands stroking her hair, tugging, letting go. "Wanna keep touchin' you --"

   "And why would I want to let you distract me?" Willow's dulcet tones are without guile or mischief, only a hint of amusement. Still she can't help the smile that's distraction enough, makes lips and cheeks curve in a giggle against this hothouse flower

   (pussy, God, say it)

   "Will --" The strain in Faith's voice is approaching snap, but Willow will have none of it. Not with this moment to have; this woman.

   "I know you wouldn't mind if I made it easy." She bends down for another taste, shivers at the rough drag of linen over her nipples. "Long as you've been waiting...I could do you just the way you like it. The way you know I can. Fast..." She grabs Faith by the hips, watches that expression melt as she pulls up and back.

   "Rough."

   Faith clutches the bedposts, wide-eyed, intent on the sight below; splayed out in her lap, ripe for the taking.

   "But I don't want this to be easy." Dainty nibbles, in between words

   (don't talk with your mouth full)

   clit throbbing in sympathy when she covers Faith's own, scours and sucks until the Slayer's hips are thrusting up. Lets go with a smack, breath harsh in her ears.

   "I want it to be special."

   One of the bedposts emits an ominous creak.

   "God, Red -- quit playin' around --"

   "But that's exactly what I'm doing." Willow doesn't hide the teasing as she continues her explorations. "Come on. You know I have to take time to enjoy this..."

   She sinks deep and sudden, drawing an appreciative groan from them both, along with a fresh fountain of juice. Faith is acrid without being bitter; strong, somehow sweet and familiar.

   "Isn't that what you were thinking when you did this to me? How you wanted to draw it out...make it last?" A strangled keen as she grabs harder, pushes in with a growl. She's growing bolder, duplicating her own glorious torture; diving deep, feeling the squeeze of inner muscle, pulling back to lap and tease. "Fighting not to just shove one hand down your pants and --"

   "Please --"

   The word alone would be sufficient, and Willow looks up, startled. Faith's eyes are huge, her entire body trembling.

   "Please -- just, lemme be on top, I swear I'll be careful, it's not you it's good oh fuck --"

   "Shh..." Her decision is instant, painless. She lays a calming hand on Faith's belly, soothing away blooming embarrassment. "Stay there, okay? I got you..."

   She offers her best reassuring smile before turning, leaning over on her hands and knees. The hair tie is still on the table by the bedside, and she indulges in a saucy wiggle; wonders how long it would take to get jumped under these circumstances, if she had to go searching. Settles into a demure sitting position, makes a show of smoothing her dress while checking Faith out from behind lowered eyes, hyperaware of the contrast between her ladylike demeanor and bare breasts still hanging out. Which are very much where the Slayer's gaze is directed as Willow raises her arms, before finally dragging upward; widening as she pulls her hair back in a simple ponytail.

   She leans back on the bed, arms wide; lips slightly parted, watching that stare burn holes in her skin.

   Their hands meet as she helps the other woman slowly climb on, and even with all the care and forethought it's still almost awkward, and a little more, until they find the right angles and then it's so right she cries out; muffled by the weight, drowned out by her lover's voice. The Slayer tightens and squirms, staring down, caressing her hair as one hand strays toward their joining; snarls when Willow slaps it away, gasps when she pulls down harder, straining up, redoubling her efforts. The involuntary noises from her laboring mouth echo Faith's own, except the other woman's voice has dropped to a subsonic hum, a fuzzy stream of F-word mutterings, over and over in various combinations. Hands grab hers, pull them back to breasts, encouraging pinches that quickly become brutal but seem to be exactly what's required; Willow's jaw is beginning to ache, but the sounds when she obeys the urgent command of harder and right there are ample indication the end is imminent and then there are no words, Faith is holding her head in both hands and she forgets all about stopping, only keeping the tongue-lashing going and

   (breathing, that's the ticket)

   hunched over her, shaking in long, drawn-out spasms, yelling loud enough to

   (wake the dead)

   on the verge of hanging on, for dear life

   when Faith rises in a convulsive shudder, falls beyond her reach.

   The first thing she notices, between trying to breathe, is her thighs rubbing together; hips grinding in a frenzy, slowing with the beat of her heart. Willow has no idea how long they lie unmoving, and less reason to care; long enough for pants and groans to slow to near-standstill, to lick her lips nearly numb, juices drying on her cheeks. Enough for her to exert the energy and presence of mind to roll over, crawl up the deliciously naked body underneath and settle in with a sigh; one arm and leg draped over Faith as she nuzzles the back of her neck.

   "You okay?" She feels a momentary urge to curse at her own triteness. "You don't have to --"

   "Good." Her heart flutters and slows as Faith blindly reaches back; finds her hand, gives a squeeze. "I'm good..."

   She stifles a giggle at the near-yawn, runs her other hand down the Slayer's back. Buffy felt the same, all smooth skin and taut muscle, though smaller in every way; feminine curves hardened and ground down, a china doll with a kung-fu punch. Willow has always been amazed at the power in that delicate body, in a way she can't be at the strength in this very different one in her arms.

   "You're sure?"

   "Mmhmm..." Faith eases back into her, falls still again.

   Inside her head everything is silent, all ajumble, and she can't help but compare. Oz had been cool intensity and quiet strength; Tara softness and warmth, a languorous shock. She had known Faith would be different. Scared it would be too different. Happy to respond to that power with equal passion.

   Wondering, which of them has changed the more.

   "I foresee our greatest obstacle to be clashing tastes in entertainment."

   "Hey." She can practically see the smile, for all Faith is facing away. "Tryin' to enjoy my afterglow, here."

   Willow falls silent, abruptly wishing for a full-body hug. The twinge in her stomach says she's being insecure, but insecurity is the least of reasons to lie touching nose to toes, watching every thought and emotion in another's eyes. The slow, smooth strokes of her hand along Faith's back are growing hesitant, a little skittery.

   Faith turns, sees her expression.

   "Sorry -- I'm a dumbass." The Slayer rolls over, propped up on one elbow. "You know you can tell me anything. So -- whaddya want?"

   She tries for romantic over pathetic. But, can't have one without the other.

   "You."

   Arms open, a clear invitation.

   "Ya got me." Willow crawls in, snuggles up hard; feeling and hearing the smile. "For better or worse."

   Dust motes linger in the afternoon sun, indeterminate particles drifting in space. Her shoulder's still sore, she could use another drink; should probably claim the bathroom, before anyone else gets back. Faith lies quiet under her fingers, lazy thump in her chest already lizard-slow, and Willow imagines this demon girl heart beating one atrium, one ventricle at a time. Why not, with so much power to spare?

   She lies there, breathing in the moment. Happy. Content. A little afraid, of the boundless possibilities. Her own heart is tripping, and not for the oxygen.

   She focuses on the beat. Lets it slow, as breath deepens. This is the best moment.

   She's not going anywhere.

   "What am I gonna do with you?"

   Faith chuckles again. "Don't know about you..."

   A soft kiss on her head.

   "...but I can't wait to find out."

I'd love to give myself away
But I find it hard to trust
I've got no map to find my way
Amongst these clouds of dust.
Fear can stop you loving
Love can stop your fear
Fear can stop you loving
But it's not always that clear.

- Morcheeba

-dj

Boomtime, 73rd Bureaucracy, YOLD 3172

the story continues

in

Faith the Vampire Slayer

1x01: "Big Country"

coming this fall.