Fic: Skin (R, Buffy/Illyria)
Title: Skin
Author: twinkledru
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel
Pairing: Buffy/Illyria
Rating: R for some sexual language.
Notes: For crossovers100 ('outsides') and joss100 ('paint'). Crossposted to author's journal and a couple other comms, so apologies if you get it more than once.
Disclaimer: Joss. Duh.
It looked like paint, and she thought if she could just look hard enough, if there were enough showers, if they stood in the rain enough or made love in the bath enough, it would wash away.
Even after so long? Even after the world kinda seemed to be breaking apart and they were drowning in the endless rain that just kept coming?
She still sort of thought that.
Illyria was patient and at the same time she wasn't while Buffy went through all the 'freaking out about sexuality' stages. "Would it make you feel better," she asked at one point, "to consider the fact that I am in fact beyond your human genders?"
"Not really," Buffy said. "No."
"Would it make you feel better," Illyria asked, after a moment of big silent rock-like deliberation, "if I kissed you?"
"Not really," Buffy said, but this time she grinned. "But I wouldn't hate it."
And then Illyria cocked her head and frowned in such a way that Buffy didn't feel so bad about not entirely getting what was going on.
Even with the lights out, in the dim light that still came from the rotting, dying city around them with the rain pouring down all the time, the differences in skin tone, the variations, were still there. When she made Buffy come, there were colors that exploded before Buffy's eyes, and stronger than all of them was the blue which swelled up there.
When they fought, though? She didn't care. When they were side by side and keeping away the things that just kept creeping closer every day, she was frankly just glad that she had a god who was actually, you know, on her side. And one who was actually, you know. Super competent. Like, scary competent, even. 'Cuz that was a pretty nice change from Buffy's previous experience with gods. See: fighting one who's as stupid as she is strong and raging.
Which was weird, kind of.
And once she was a girl. She said she didn't sleep, but once Buffy woke up from one of her own dreams, and there was a girl sitting there, at the edge of the bed, and looking at her.
"Hey, honey," the girl said, and pushed her glasses up and giggled.
"Um," was kind of all Buffy could think of as she squinted. And then, far more insightful, "Huh?"
"Aw, don't worry," the girl said. "I'm Fred, they must've told you about me?"
"... huh?" There was a reason it was a classic.
And then it was different.
Then Buffy was gentle. With Illyria, she could pound and fuck and slam and get slammed right back.
But this was different. This was skin. Skin and soft veins and holy crap, her arms were tiny. She was tiny. Small, soft, pretty breasts, smaller than Buffy's, even, with tiny little tanned nipples that she'd sighgiggle when Buffy's mouth found them. Tiny little girl who giggled and blushed and laughed and came so hard Buffy kind of thought it might break her.
And Buffy fell asleep again, but this time while she was snuggling her. Which was also. Weird.
And the next day there was no snuggling. Illyria was already up for her morning stalk. No words about it at all. No mention of Fred and who the hell she was and what kind of crazy schizo god Buffy might in fact be teamed up with here. No glasses, 'cuz of course Gods had perfect eyesight, owing to that thing where they were, you know, Gods, and once again a dominant color scheme of blue.
And after the fights Illyria would hold Buffy still in the bathroom and tend her wounds.
Fingers would trace across skin, and she was methodical, yeah. She was intent, definitely (although, still, intent in that bored, distant way that she was intent about anything where we humans were concerned).
But there was something else, there was a way that her fingers would just. Sit, for a tiny little fraction of a heartbeat. Just sit. If Buffy didn't have Slayer senses, she didn't think she'd even have noticed it.
She didn't say anything about it.
The blue never washed away, and the touches would linger like that, barely even long enough for it to be called lingering.
Skin, Buffy guessed, was what evened it all out in the end.
Author: twinkledru
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel
Pairing: Buffy/Illyria
Rating: R for some sexual language.
Notes: For crossovers100 ('outsides') and joss100 ('paint'). Crossposted to author's journal and a couple other comms, so apologies if you get it more than once.
Disclaimer: Joss. Duh.
It looked like paint, and she thought if she could just look hard enough, if there were enough showers, if they stood in the rain enough or made love in the bath enough, it would wash away.
Even after so long? Even after the world kinda seemed to be breaking apart and they were drowning in the endless rain that just kept coming?
She still sort of thought that.
Illyria was patient and at the same time she wasn't while Buffy went through all the 'freaking out about sexuality' stages. "Would it make you feel better," she asked at one point, "to consider the fact that I am in fact beyond your human genders?"
"Not really," Buffy said. "No."
"Would it make you feel better," Illyria asked, after a moment of big silent rock-like deliberation, "if I kissed you?"
"Not really," Buffy said, but this time she grinned. "But I wouldn't hate it."
And then Illyria cocked her head and frowned in such a way that Buffy didn't feel so bad about not entirely getting what was going on.
Even with the lights out, in the dim light that still came from the rotting, dying city around them with the rain pouring down all the time, the differences in skin tone, the variations, were still there. When she made Buffy come, there were colors that exploded before Buffy's eyes, and stronger than all of them was the blue which swelled up there.
When they fought, though? She didn't care. When they were side by side and keeping away the things that just kept creeping closer every day, she was frankly just glad that she had a god who was actually, you know, on her side. And one who was actually, you know. Super competent. Like, scary competent, even. 'Cuz that was a pretty nice change from Buffy's previous experience with gods. See: fighting one who's as stupid as she is strong and raging.
Which was weird, kind of.
And once she was a girl. She said she didn't sleep, but once Buffy woke up from one of her own dreams, and there was a girl sitting there, at the edge of the bed, and looking at her.
"Hey, honey," the girl said, and pushed her glasses up and giggled.
"Um," was kind of all Buffy could think of as she squinted. And then, far more insightful, "Huh?"
"Aw, don't worry," the girl said. "I'm Fred, they must've told you about me?"
"... huh?" There was a reason it was a classic.
And then it was different.
Then Buffy was gentle. With Illyria, she could pound and fuck and slam and get slammed right back.
But this was different. This was skin. Skin and soft veins and holy crap, her arms were tiny. She was tiny. Small, soft, pretty breasts, smaller than Buffy's, even, with tiny little tanned nipples that she'd sighgiggle when Buffy's mouth found them. Tiny little girl who giggled and blushed and laughed and came so hard Buffy kind of thought it might break her.
And Buffy fell asleep again, but this time while she was snuggling her. Which was also. Weird.
And the next day there was no snuggling. Illyria was already up for her morning stalk. No words about it at all. No mention of Fred and who the hell she was and what kind of crazy schizo god Buffy might in fact be teamed up with here. No glasses, 'cuz of course Gods had perfect eyesight, owing to that thing where they were, you know, Gods, and once again a dominant color scheme of blue.
And after the fights Illyria would hold Buffy still in the bathroom and tend her wounds.
Fingers would trace across skin, and she was methodical, yeah. She was intent, definitely (although, still, intent in that bored, distant way that she was intent about anything where we humans were concerned).
But there was something else, there was a way that her fingers would just. Sit, for a tiny little fraction of a heartbeat. Just sit. If Buffy didn't have Slayer senses, she didn't think she'd even have noticed it.
She didn't say anything about it.
The blue never washed away, and the touches would linger like that, barely even long enough for it to be called lingering.
Skin, Buffy guessed, was what evened it all out in the end.