FIC: (1/4)

["C S Armitage" <soren_nyrond@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

TITLE: No Overall Title (1/4): Breakfast 
AUTHOR: Soren Nyrond
DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I only borrowed them so that they could have a vamp-less week.
SUMMARY: It's got Buffy and Willow in it; what is lacks is any vestige of aplot.
SPOILERS: None since it bears no resembance to aired
WARNING: This hasn't been betaed or properly spell-chekced.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Happy New Year


  
 

Breakfast

 

 

It was a lovely warm morning, and when Willow Rosenberg woke the sun was blazing in through the light lace curtains. It took her a moment to realise where she was: college was in recess for a week, while "certain structural issues" were investigated. Rumour had it that the lab. block had been discovered to be seriously compromised by certain subterranean tunnels. So there was week's recess and she and Buffy had hired a cabin at Grove's Beach, about five miles up the coast, at a development that was trying hard to make itself into a resort, and for whom she had happened to design a computerised booking, billing and reconciliation system.

 

She turned over in bed, and registered that Buffy was nowhere to be seen. Then she heard movement in the kitchen, and turned over again, in time to see the bedroom door open and Buffy come in, wearing the "Django the Gerbil and His Friends" nightshirt that Willow had got for her (but hadn't had time to put on the night before). And with her came a tray piled with with mugs and pots.

"Here we go, Will," Buffy said, lowering to the bed: "Decaff latte, and a tub of organic yoghurt for you; caff latte and hi-energy grain bar for me."

"Oh - you want energy, do you, Summers ?" Willow joshed: "Reckon to beat meon the mini-golf course, today ?"

Buffy smiled and ducked her head and the question.

 

Fed and latteed, Willow lay back, and stretched. Sun, food and Buffy - what more could a girl .

Buffy put the tray on the floor, all but two pots, with lids. One proved to be strawberries, and the other whipped cream.

"Here, for my witch-woman," she said, and dipping a strawberry in the cream, she held it to Willow's lips.

After three berries, Wilow protested, and Buffy agreed to eat one herself. But the inequality went on, and Willow was about to press her protest, when she realised that, in her way, Buffy was expressing her love, by making sure that Willow had more of the succulent fruit and the wonderfully vanilla-tanged cream than she did.

 

Finally, though, the strawberries came to an end. There was still a littlecram left and Buffy scooped up a blob of it onto her finer and mused aloud"I wonder what I should do with this ?"

As if by accident, the blob fell . and landed, slightly chillily, square onWillow's nipple.

"Oops," Buffy said, and, before Willow could say a word, she leaned over and licked the cream off.

"Ooh," Willow said, without really meaning to.

Them, deliberately, Buffy smeared a second blob of cream onto Willow's other nipple and repeated, with slow and sensual care, the cleansing process with her tongue.

Throroughly awake now, Willow moved to respond physically, but Buffy gentlypushed her back: "You're on holiday," she said: "It's my turn to . "

Whatever she had meant to say, she turned it into another cream-and-tongue session, this time half on Willow's breast and half on her stomach, which involved the sheet being whipped back so that it didn't get cream on it.

Willow lay back and let the attention proceed, but after a couple more tries (by which time the sheet was completely gone) it was clear that the creamin the pot had run out.

 

Willow was about to move to get up when Buffy gently pressed her back and, after kissing each nipple gently, moved her lips down, southward. At once Willow's blood heated and those nipples tingled afresh: she knew what was coming next and her nerves became electric at the thought. She could feel her body readying itself, and then Buffy's lips and tongue touched her turgid, heated flesh and the passionate embrace began, with tongue searching outher every crevice and lips toying with her pert and attentive clit, until finally she exploded into a climactic crescendo.

 

Willow was juts coming down, still feeling hyper-sensitive, when Buffy reached down and, with an evilly-loving grin, produced a second container of whipped cream. Willow would have said something, would have moved, but she was still in Recovery Mode, so she perforce lay there as Buffy popped the lid and used her thumb to scoop out a huge white creamy lump, and then deliberately placed it right at the heart of her witch's attention. Right at the paex of her passion-soaked chestnut triangle.

The sensation was unbelievable, as the cool cream soaked in. A second thumbful followed before Buffy lowered her head again and spread the cream right throughout Willow's ache, softly and gently massaging it in with her tongue. Two fingers followed - Willow had no idea whether or not more cream was involved - and then, softly but inexorably, a subtle rhythm was established, generating wave after wave of sensation and setting the colours to dance behind Willow's eyelids again, until the flames swelled up and the stars burst into flame and Willow's body quivered again and again as Buffy loved her in the way she - both of them - liked to best.