(018) i burned safe and warm in your arms
Title; i burned safe and warm in your arms
Fandom; Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing; Faith/Willow
Rating; NC-17
Word count; ~2400
Short summary; In which Willow is not gay, Faith grins a lot, and a bad thing happens.
Warnings; Sex, cursing.
Disclaimer; I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any related media.
Notes; For my femslash10 recipient aaronlisa.
Willow isn't gay.
Sure, Faith's hand is up her skirt at the moment, and sure, she's enjoying herself, but that doesn't mean anything. Anyone would get all hot and bothered if a hottie like Faith was feeling them up.
(And no, calling Faith a hottie also does not mean she's gay, just for the record.)
Still, it's hard to suppress the small moans and whimpers that keep threatening to escape from her mouth, hard to stop her hands from clenching in Faith's hair, hard to keep from screaming aloud when Faith scoots forward and parts Willow with her tongue.
“Uh-uh-okay, Faith. Faith, Faith, that’s n-that’s nice,” Willow pants, trying to catch her breath and failing miserably. “That’s real nice. Ooh, that’s real nice.”
Faith pauses for a moment to quirk an eyebrow up at Willow. “Not so much for the dirty talk, are we, Red?”
Willow flushes, turning a color that’s roughly a few shades lighter than her hair. “I-I don’t like cursing. It’s-ahh-vulgar,” she moans, squeezing her eyes shut as Faith sucks the tip of Willow’s clit into her mouth.
Faith chuckles against Willow, sending vibrations skittering up her skin. Her words are muffled but still clear enough to be heard: “Good thing me eating you out isn’t vulgar or anything, ‘cause then we’d be in a real pickle.”
Only Faith could talk about pickles during sex and not ruin the moment. The thought is surprisingly clear through the muddled haze that is her brain, and she finds herself laughing, despite the fact that she doesn’t really find any of what’s happening funny. Hot, yes; confusing, maybe; funny, no. But she’s laughing anyway-or she is until Faith slides two fingers inside of her. Then she’s moaning wantonly, bucking her hips, murmuring little noises of affirmation and gratitude, wrapping her legs around Faith’s shoulders, pulling her in closer-
And then Faith bites down-actually bites down--on the inside of Willow’s thigh and holy moly, Willow didn’t even know people did that during sex. She comes with a keening moan.
Faith waits until Willow’s finished to pull her fingers out. Willow’s so sensitive now that it’s almost painful, but it in a nice way, a good way, much in the same vein as the lightly throbbing bite on her thigh.
“So. Red gets off on a little pain, eh? Knew there was a vixen hidden behind that innocent little face.” Faith smirks, then sucks her fingers, slick with Willow’s juices, into her mouth with a loud ‘pop’.
Between the heavy-lidded look on Faith’s face as she licks her fingers clean and the remembrance of the stinging pleasure of Faith’s teeth on her skin, Willow’s so flustered she can barely speak. She finally stammers out, “I-I do not get off on pain! That was a fluke. You have-no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Uh-huh.” Faith grins. “Sure. Anyway, Red, just let me know the next time Wolf Boy isn’t cutting it for you and I’ll be right on over. You know,” she adds as an afterthought, “you’d think he’d be a little wiser about the thin boundary between pleasure and pain. He does have those canines, after all-”
“That is only when he transforms!” Willow squeaks. She jumps up from the bed and bends over to grab her underwear and pants, completely intending to get dressed and run out of here-and then she realizes that, in bending over, she’s given Faith a very nice few of her nether regions. And as for Fait, well, she’s is staring directly at the pink-tinged lips of Willow’s cunt with an absolutely predatory grin on her face.
“Eek!” Willow shrieks, standing up and holding her shirt in front of her waist, at the same time Faith slyly asks, “Up for another round?”
“No! I-no, no, no! I am out of here!” Willow tugs her clothes on haphazardly, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Faith is staring directly at her breasts the whole time (and even more uncomfortably aware of how hot that makes her).
As she finally makes her way out the door, she hears Faith call after her. “Offer’s open anytime you want it, Red! You know where to knock.”
“I-I hate you!” Willow gasps out, slamming the door and running down the steps. Faith waits a moment, then shrugs and grabs the remote.
“She totally liked it.”
-
"They're gonna kick me out of school," Faith says conversationally on patrol one evening some weeks later. (They've split up for better coverage--Buffy and Xander, Willow and Faith. Unsurprisingly--to Willow, anyway--it was Faith's idea.)
Willow drops her stake in shock.
"They're gonna what!?" she shrieks, not caring, for a moment, that loud noises equal vampires which equal probable bodily injury.
"Shut up; do you want to attract the vamps? And they’re gonna kick me out. Oh, but only if I fail bio," Faith says, eyes trained on the back of Willow's skirt as she bends over to pick the stake up. "Nice ass, ginger."
Willow blushes and pulls her skirt down a little lower as she straightens up. "I'm being serious here, Faith. You can't get kicked out!"
"And why the heck not?" Faith quirks an eyebrow. "It's not like I'm learning anything I'm gonna need in the real world. Not like they teach Slaying 101 or How to Scrub Demon Goop Out of Your Clothes or anything." She snickers at her own joke.
Willow stamps her foot on the ground, suddenly flustered.
"You can't fail because--because--because it's high school, and high school is important. Besides, wouldn't you hate missing out our daily library hangouts? We do very...important...slayer-y type things in there. Like find out how to kill vampires and stuff."
"And stuff," Faith agrees. "Like how last time, Buffy and Xander debated the demeaning status of women in porn while Giles sat there cleaning his glasses over and over and you turned so red you were purple? Wouldn't want to miss that."
They walk along in silence for a while; Willow's sullen, Faith's amused.
And then, out of nowhere--
"I could tutor you, you know. In bio."
Faith stares at Willow for a second, then snorts and whacks her lightly on the shoulder.
"Right. You do that. Not like every time we're alone together we end up fucking or anyth--"
"Faith!" Willow shrieks, looking positively embarrassed out of her mind. "That is not an issue right now! The issue is you flunking out of high school! The issue is that we can't let that happen! The issue is that--"
"Okay, Willow." Faith groans, rolls her eyes. "You go ahead and tutor me. Or try, anyway." The glint in her eyes is almost competitive, and for all of Willow's shyness, she's always been surprisingly up for a challenge.
"You know what, Faith? I will. And I'll have you know that I have very high expectations for the students I tutor. I expect you to be on time, carrying all of your books, having done the reading the night before, and--"
"I'll meet you at my apartment at seven tomorrow, Red." Faith itches her nose absentmindedly. "It's on the corner of 21st and Chestnut."
"I know where your apartment is, Faith," Willow mutters. Her mind immediately flashes back to the last time she was there, back to lying on Faith's bed, spread-eagled, shirt pulled haphazardly over her head, two of Faith's fingers buried inside of her, writhing and moaning.
Apparently, the same image is now in Faith's head, or at least something similar, because she raises an eyebrow and says, "Guess you do."
Willow's about to ask her what that's supposed to mean, even though she quite obviously knows, but suddenly there's one vamp jumping her and another advancing on Faith and there's really no time to talk about their quasi-relationship anymore.
Willow finds out for the first time that night how much fighting vampires sucks when you're horny.
(The first time, but not the last.)
-
Roughly four minutes into their first tutoring session, Willow decides that Faith is a lost cause. An hour later, after Faith's licked her out under the desk, she decides to reconsider.
Midway through the third session, Willow walks out the door, muttering something about not being able to teach people who don't want to learn. Faith drags her back in, tackles her to the ground, and thoroughly ravishes her. Willow decides to give Faith one more try.
After the seventh session, Willow's ready to abandon Faith once and for all. After being brought to orgasm four times in a half-hour, she figures she'll quit soon. Just not now.
Eventually, Willow gives up on giving up.
-
Willow doesn't feel it--not at first, anyway. At first it's just a bright flash behind her eyes, the world going completely white and then completely black in quick succession. There's a sound like spattering and she only dimly realizes it's her own guts sloshing out onto the ground. The pain doesn't even start when she looks down and sees the stake embedded in her abdomen; it's only a dull sort of throbbing. She seems to be aware of every part of her body but the area with the wound; she can feel her jeans getting sticky with the blood trickling out of her stomach, the blisters on her ankles from her brand new sneakers, but the hole in her gut remains mostly painless.
She can dimly hear Xander yelling something, hear Giles choke back a sob, hear Buffy cry out in shock and terror. She doesn't hear Faith, which makes her very sad, but she doesn't know why. She wants to hear Faith. She thinks it'd make her feel nicer. Faith always makes her feel nice.
"F," Willow mutters, and she realizes with sudden clarity that she's lying on the ground. There's a bump forming on the back of her head where she fell and her hair is clotted with mud and there's a stake in her stomach and suddenly she feels horribly, utterly alone.
"F-Faith," she cries, trying to grab at the nothingness in front of her with her hand, as if she could pull Faith out of midair. Her hand doesn't move, though, and she collapses into sobs, pulling herself into a ball--and then, as her stomach twists, suddenly her every nerve ending is on fire, burning her from the inside out, and she can see clear as day the pile of ashes in her casket, the weeds choking her gravestone.
"I'm here, Red," a voice says, and then the face that belongs to the voice is hovering over Willow, dark and blurry. It's a nice face. It's Faith's face. Faith's face. Faith's face is a rhyme.
Bizarrely, Willow giggles, and then a fresh wave of terror has her in its clutches so tightly that she has absolutely no control over the screams of pain that are being wrenched violently from her mouth.
"Babe," Faith's voice is saying. "Babe. I need you to stay with me, okay? Just a little while. You'll be okay, but you gotta stick around a little while longer, okay?" Faith's voice sounds different, somehow, but Willow can't quite place it--a bit more shrill, maybe, frantic. There's an edge that hasn't been there before.
Cold hands brush the hair out of her face. A thumb strokes her cheek. A pinky clasps her own. Willow slides blissfully into darkness.
-
When she wakes up in a white hospital room nineteen days later, she's alone. She has memories, blurry and vague, of Buffy sitting beside her bed, of Oz keeping watch over her, of Xander holding her hand, of Giles reading to her--and lots of Faith; memories of Faith stroking her hair back from her face, yelling angrily at her to wake up, kissing her forehead, kneeling by her bedside and crying.
(Maybe they're not memories. Maybe they're just the creations of a comatose mind.
Or maybe Faith really did cry over her.
The thought simultaneously saddens her and warms her.)
Part of her wants to buzz the nurse, to ask her to let them all know she's awake, but another part of her just wants to lie her, count the cracks on the ceiling, feel how long her fingertips have gotten, be glad she's alive. The second part wins out, of course.
She's honestly not surprised when Faith comes in a few hours later. Her hair's messy and she looks like she hasn't been sleeping well--there are huge bags under her eyes and she's moving slightly sluggishly. Sluggishly for a slayer, that is; she's still incredibly nimble for a normal person. But Willow knows better; knows Faith isn't normal, not in any sense of the word.
Their eyes meet.
It's not like in a romance movie. Things don't start moving in slow-motion; the room still smells like antiseptic, which Willow can testify is definitely not conducive to lovin'; and the patient next door is yelling something about his catheter, which ruins any semblance of a mood there might have been building up.
Still, though. Willow's alive, and Faith is the first one to visit her, and somehow that feels more right than pretty much anything in Willow's life has ever felt up until this point.
"So, Red," Faith mumbles, and her voice is raspy (from crying, Willow realizes) but she's still got that good ol' Faith swagger. "When were you gonna tell me you woke up, huh? I was--"
"Worried?" Willow asks. Her voice is squeaky and high-pitched from lack of use; she almost wants to giggle at how ridiculous it sounds, but refrains. She thinks laughing would probably hurt.
Faith blinks. Realization dawns on her face, seems to hit her hard. A tear runs down her cheek.
"Yeah. I guess I was," she says.
Willow doesn't really know what to say to that. Faith admitting to being emotionally vulnerable is a pretty big thing, after all. So instead, she just scoots over, wincing, and pats the spot on the bed next to her.
"Sit. Tell me--" Willow yawns "--tell me what I missed in bio."
Faith groans.
"Aw, fucketh me."
(She sits anyway. Grasps Willow's hand. Smiles in the sunlight from the window when she thinks Willow isn't looking.)
-
Willow isn't gay.
But just maybe, she's starting to accept that she's not quite straight, either.
Fandom; Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing; Faith/Willow
Rating; NC-17
Word count; ~2400
Short summary; In which Willow is not gay, Faith grins a lot, and a bad thing happens.
Warnings; Sex, cursing.
Disclaimer; I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any related media.
Notes; For my femslash10 recipient aaronlisa.
Willow isn't gay.
Sure, Faith's hand is up her skirt at the moment, and sure, she's enjoying herself, but that doesn't mean anything. Anyone would get all hot and bothered if a hottie like Faith was feeling them up.
(And no, calling Faith a hottie also does not mean she's gay, just for the record.)
Still, it's hard to suppress the small moans and whimpers that keep threatening to escape from her mouth, hard to stop her hands from clenching in Faith's hair, hard to keep from screaming aloud when Faith scoots forward and parts Willow with her tongue.
“Uh-uh-okay, Faith. Faith, Faith, that’s n-that’s nice,” Willow pants, trying to catch her breath and failing miserably. “That’s real nice. Ooh, that’s real nice.”
Faith pauses for a moment to quirk an eyebrow up at Willow. “Not so much for the dirty talk, are we, Red?”
Willow flushes, turning a color that’s roughly a few shades lighter than her hair. “I-I don’t like cursing. It’s-ahh-vulgar,” she moans, squeezing her eyes shut as Faith sucks the tip of Willow’s clit into her mouth.
Faith chuckles against Willow, sending vibrations skittering up her skin. Her words are muffled but still clear enough to be heard: “Good thing me eating you out isn’t vulgar or anything, ‘cause then we’d be in a real pickle.”
Only Faith could talk about pickles during sex and not ruin the moment. The thought is surprisingly clear through the muddled haze that is her brain, and she finds herself laughing, despite the fact that she doesn’t really find any of what’s happening funny. Hot, yes; confusing, maybe; funny, no. But she’s laughing anyway-or she is until Faith slides two fingers inside of her. Then she’s moaning wantonly, bucking her hips, murmuring little noises of affirmation and gratitude, wrapping her legs around Faith’s shoulders, pulling her in closer-
And then Faith bites down-actually bites down--on the inside of Willow’s thigh and holy moly, Willow didn’t even know people did that during sex. She comes with a keening moan.
Faith waits until Willow’s finished to pull her fingers out. Willow’s so sensitive now that it’s almost painful, but it in a nice way, a good way, much in the same vein as the lightly throbbing bite on her thigh.
“So. Red gets off on a little pain, eh? Knew there was a vixen hidden behind that innocent little face.” Faith smirks, then sucks her fingers, slick with Willow’s juices, into her mouth with a loud ‘pop’.
Between the heavy-lidded look on Faith’s face as she licks her fingers clean and the remembrance of the stinging pleasure of Faith’s teeth on her skin, Willow’s so flustered she can barely speak. She finally stammers out, “I-I do not get off on pain! That was a fluke. You have-no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Uh-huh.” Faith grins. “Sure. Anyway, Red, just let me know the next time Wolf Boy isn’t cutting it for you and I’ll be right on over. You know,” she adds as an afterthought, “you’d think he’d be a little wiser about the thin boundary between pleasure and pain. He does have those canines, after all-”
“That is only when he transforms!” Willow squeaks. She jumps up from the bed and bends over to grab her underwear and pants, completely intending to get dressed and run out of here-and then she realizes that, in bending over, she’s given Faith a very nice few of her nether regions. And as for Fait, well, she’s is staring directly at the pink-tinged lips of Willow’s cunt with an absolutely predatory grin on her face.
“Eek!” Willow shrieks, standing up and holding her shirt in front of her waist, at the same time Faith slyly asks, “Up for another round?”
“No! I-no, no, no! I am out of here!” Willow tugs her clothes on haphazardly, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Faith is staring directly at her breasts the whole time (and even more uncomfortably aware of how hot that makes her).
As she finally makes her way out the door, she hears Faith call after her. “Offer’s open anytime you want it, Red! You know where to knock.”
“I-I hate you!” Willow gasps out, slamming the door and running down the steps. Faith waits a moment, then shrugs and grabs the remote.
“She totally liked it.”
-
"They're gonna kick me out of school," Faith says conversationally on patrol one evening some weeks later. (They've split up for better coverage--Buffy and Xander, Willow and Faith. Unsurprisingly--to Willow, anyway--it was Faith's idea.)
Willow drops her stake in shock.
"They're gonna what!?" she shrieks, not caring, for a moment, that loud noises equal vampires which equal probable bodily injury.
"Shut up; do you want to attract the vamps? And they’re gonna kick me out. Oh, but only if I fail bio," Faith says, eyes trained on the back of Willow's skirt as she bends over to pick the stake up. "Nice ass, ginger."
Willow blushes and pulls her skirt down a little lower as she straightens up. "I'm being serious here, Faith. You can't get kicked out!"
"And why the heck not?" Faith quirks an eyebrow. "It's not like I'm learning anything I'm gonna need in the real world. Not like they teach Slaying 101 or How to Scrub Demon Goop Out of Your Clothes or anything." She snickers at her own joke.
Willow stamps her foot on the ground, suddenly flustered.
"You can't fail because--because--because it's high school, and high school is important. Besides, wouldn't you hate missing out our daily library hangouts? We do very...important...slayer-y type things in there. Like find out how to kill vampires and stuff."
"And stuff," Faith agrees. "Like how last time, Buffy and Xander debated the demeaning status of women in porn while Giles sat there cleaning his glasses over and over and you turned so red you were purple? Wouldn't want to miss that."
They walk along in silence for a while; Willow's sullen, Faith's amused.
And then, out of nowhere--
"I could tutor you, you know. In bio."
Faith stares at Willow for a second, then snorts and whacks her lightly on the shoulder.
"Right. You do that. Not like every time we're alone together we end up fucking or anyth--"
"Faith!" Willow shrieks, looking positively embarrassed out of her mind. "That is not an issue right now! The issue is you flunking out of high school! The issue is that we can't let that happen! The issue is that--"
"Okay, Willow." Faith groans, rolls her eyes. "You go ahead and tutor me. Or try, anyway." The glint in her eyes is almost competitive, and for all of Willow's shyness, she's always been surprisingly up for a challenge.
"You know what, Faith? I will. And I'll have you know that I have very high expectations for the students I tutor. I expect you to be on time, carrying all of your books, having done the reading the night before, and--"
"I'll meet you at my apartment at seven tomorrow, Red." Faith itches her nose absentmindedly. "It's on the corner of 21st and Chestnut."
"I know where your apartment is, Faith," Willow mutters. Her mind immediately flashes back to the last time she was there, back to lying on Faith's bed, spread-eagled, shirt pulled haphazardly over her head, two of Faith's fingers buried inside of her, writhing and moaning.
Apparently, the same image is now in Faith's head, or at least something similar, because she raises an eyebrow and says, "Guess you do."
Willow's about to ask her what that's supposed to mean, even though she quite obviously knows, but suddenly there's one vamp jumping her and another advancing on Faith and there's really no time to talk about their quasi-relationship anymore.
Willow finds out for the first time that night how much fighting vampires sucks when you're horny.
(The first time, but not the last.)
-
Roughly four minutes into their first tutoring session, Willow decides that Faith is a lost cause. An hour later, after Faith's licked her out under the desk, she decides to reconsider.
Midway through the third session, Willow walks out the door, muttering something about not being able to teach people who don't want to learn. Faith drags her back in, tackles her to the ground, and thoroughly ravishes her. Willow decides to give Faith one more try.
After the seventh session, Willow's ready to abandon Faith once and for all. After being brought to orgasm four times in a half-hour, she figures she'll quit soon. Just not now.
Eventually, Willow gives up on giving up.
-
Willow doesn't feel it--not at first, anyway. At first it's just a bright flash behind her eyes, the world going completely white and then completely black in quick succession. There's a sound like spattering and she only dimly realizes it's her own guts sloshing out onto the ground. The pain doesn't even start when she looks down and sees the stake embedded in her abdomen; it's only a dull sort of throbbing. She seems to be aware of every part of her body but the area with the wound; she can feel her jeans getting sticky with the blood trickling out of her stomach, the blisters on her ankles from her brand new sneakers, but the hole in her gut remains mostly painless.
She can dimly hear Xander yelling something, hear Giles choke back a sob, hear Buffy cry out in shock and terror. She doesn't hear Faith, which makes her very sad, but she doesn't know why. She wants to hear Faith. She thinks it'd make her feel nicer. Faith always makes her feel nice.
"F," Willow mutters, and she realizes with sudden clarity that she's lying on the ground. There's a bump forming on the back of her head where she fell and her hair is clotted with mud and there's a stake in her stomach and suddenly she feels horribly, utterly alone.
"F-Faith," she cries, trying to grab at the nothingness in front of her with her hand, as if she could pull Faith out of midair. Her hand doesn't move, though, and she collapses into sobs, pulling herself into a ball--and then, as her stomach twists, suddenly her every nerve ending is on fire, burning her from the inside out, and she can see clear as day the pile of ashes in her casket, the weeds choking her gravestone.
"I'm here, Red," a voice says, and then the face that belongs to the voice is hovering over Willow, dark and blurry. It's a nice face. It's Faith's face. Faith's face. Faith's face is a rhyme.
Bizarrely, Willow giggles, and then a fresh wave of terror has her in its clutches so tightly that she has absolutely no control over the screams of pain that are being wrenched violently from her mouth.
"Babe," Faith's voice is saying. "Babe. I need you to stay with me, okay? Just a little while. You'll be okay, but you gotta stick around a little while longer, okay?" Faith's voice sounds different, somehow, but Willow can't quite place it--a bit more shrill, maybe, frantic. There's an edge that hasn't been there before.
Cold hands brush the hair out of her face. A thumb strokes her cheek. A pinky clasps her own. Willow slides blissfully into darkness.
-
When she wakes up in a white hospital room nineteen days later, she's alone. She has memories, blurry and vague, of Buffy sitting beside her bed, of Oz keeping watch over her, of Xander holding her hand, of Giles reading to her--and lots of Faith; memories of Faith stroking her hair back from her face, yelling angrily at her to wake up, kissing her forehead, kneeling by her bedside and crying.
(Maybe they're not memories. Maybe they're just the creations of a comatose mind.
Or maybe Faith really did cry over her.
The thought simultaneously saddens her and warms her.)
Part of her wants to buzz the nurse, to ask her to let them all know she's awake, but another part of her just wants to lie her, count the cracks on the ceiling, feel how long her fingertips have gotten, be glad she's alive. The second part wins out, of course.
She's honestly not surprised when Faith comes in a few hours later. Her hair's messy and she looks like she hasn't been sleeping well--there are huge bags under her eyes and she's moving slightly sluggishly. Sluggishly for a slayer, that is; she's still incredibly nimble for a normal person. But Willow knows better; knows Faith isn't normal, not in any sense of the word.
Their eyes meet.
It's not like in a romance movie. Things don't start moving in slow-motion; the room still smells like antiseptic, which Willow can testify is definitely not conducive to lovin'; and the patient next door is yelling something about his catheter, which ruins any semblance of a mood there might have been building up.
Still, though. Willow's alive, and Faith is the first one to visit her, and somehow that feels more right than pretty much anything in Willow's life has ever felt up until this point.
"So, Red," Faith mumbles, and her voice is raspy (from crying, Willow realizes) but she's still got that good ol' Faith swagger. "When were you gonna tell me you woke up, huh? I was--"
"Worried?" Willow asks. Her voice is squeaky and high-pitched from lack of use; she almost wants to giggle at how ridiculous it sounds, but refrains. She thinks laughing would probably hurt.
Faith blinks. Realization dawns on her face, seems to hit her hard. A tear runs down her cheek.
"Yeah. I guess I was," she says.
Willow doesn't really know what to say to that. Faith admitting to being emotionally vulnerable is a pretty big thing, after all. So instead, she just scoots over, wincing, and pats the spot on the bed next to her.
"Sit. Tell me--" Willow yawns "--tell me what I missed in bio."
Faith groans.
"Aw, fucketh me."
(She sits anyway. Grasps Willow's hand. Smiles in the sunlight from the window when she thinks Willow isn't looking.)
-
Willow isn't gay.
But just maybe, she's starting to accept that she's not quite straight, either.