FIC :: (2/4)

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

TITLE: No Overall Title (2/4): Lunch
AUTHOR: Soren Nyrond
DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. It 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


   
Lunch

 

 

The sun had blazed down all morning, until even sunbathing had become a total burn-out and Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg had retreated to the shade inside their cabin.

 

Willow had made lunch - a salad, plenty of fruit-juice, and fresh fruit, tokeep their vitamin and electrolyte levels maintained, some ice-cream takenstraight from the freezing compartment and eaten even as it melted, and two tiny, black coffees.

They had eaten it and discussed the afternoon. It was too hot for beach games - even the idea of body-surfing the waves didn't appeal: it meant having to move, having to expend energy. Buffy couldn't be bothered, and Willowwasn't minded to press the point, even if the idea of committing her body to the forces of nature had a certain appeal for her.

Now Willow lay on the couch, reading one of her wiccan books, and wonderingexactly what one did, in the 20th century, with a spell against cattle murrain, whilst Buffy occupied a towel out front, placed deliberately in shadow, so that she could have the heat but not the burning.

The afternoon looked set for total immobility on the Slayer's part: and, asfar as Willow was concerned, she had decided that only one activity interested her.

 

Looking up, she noticed that Buffy had ended up prone on her back. Listening, she could hear the delicate buzz that told of a Slayer deeply asleep. At danger she would wake. Otherwise, as Willow knew, Buffy was capable of total oblivion.

An idea occurred to her. Carefully, moving as silently as she could, she tiptoed out of the cabin's other door and, keeping where possible to the shadows, moved round to the front.

Then she crouched close beside Buffy and summoned her wiccan will.

With infinite care she lifted the zip toggle of Buffy's sport top. The Slayer lay, apparently undisturbed, and Willow began, by the power of her mind, to slide the zipper down. The last bit was the trickiest, opening the little catch at the bottom, but then, before the zipper could fall onto Buffy's tanned-gold skin, Willow lifted both sides and, perspiring slightly withthe effort, slipped them apart. Buffy's breasts, crowned with pink/gold nipples, lay open to the air.

And, as Willow watched, the exposure had its effect: each nipple swelled slightly and crested, before relaxing again slightly.

 

But Willow was not yet done - Buffy's other garment was a bikini triangle, held together by tiny laces at each hip. Gently Willow cast a simple spelland the knots in the laces unfastened of their own accord. Now, cautiously Willow could lift the front triangle of fabric and leave Buffy totally exposed.

For a moment she sat, on her heels, and looked at her lover, lying there inthe shade, naked, defenceless, lovely.

 

Then she moved in. Gently she blew air across Buffy's nipples, watching asthey swelled and rose. From her bag she took a feather, and sensually brushed it across those same nipples. Buffy moaned in her sleep and shifted slightly, but didn't wake. Willow repeated the caress and this time, when she moved, Buffy's legs fell open slightly.

Now Willow moved the feather to Buffy's apex, to the silken soft hair there, and brushed and teased again. Little by little, to the accompaniment of more sleep-noises, the legs parted, and Willow was able to extend her attentions to the inner lips. Buffy's hand trailed down, but Willow deftly dodged it, and played with a nipple again, distracting the hand in that direction.

Clearly there was going to be a limit to Buffy's unconsciousness, and Willow decided not to wait. The feather she set aside, and she moved in with careful finger caresses, followed up with her tongue. Damp met with damp, met and mingled. Buffy began to wake and Willow accelerated her campaign, probing deeper and ranging the entire length of Buffy's heated channel.

Suddenly Buffy's breathing hit a frenzied high, and the moaning became half-formed words, words of passion and words of ecstasy.

Willow did not slacken for one moment however, but pressed her relentless stimulation until the inevitable, and looked-for, consequence occurred. Then she took a deep breath and dived her way right in, making sure that the orgasm lasted and lasted - Slayer strength, Slayer stamina: neither would avail against Wiccan determination to treat her lover to the very best, the very fullest, attention.

 

Buffy came and came, even as she wrestled her way to consciousness. She managed to look up for long enough to reassure herself that it was her Willowwho was responsible and then fell back, in the hot dry air, and luxuriatedin the sensations Willow was provoking in her.

Then, as the sensations began to fade, she wondered about returning the favour. But, even as the idea gelled in her mind, nifty little fingers began toying once more with her, softly but inexorably drawing her towards a second climax. Buffy drew breath to protest, then released the pent breath as Willow's lips closed around her pearl and softly, gently, unrelentingly, tugged at it and then tongue-lashed it until the lightning raged up and down every inch, every millimetre of Buffy Summers' nerves and the lightning storms raged behind her squeezed-closed eyelids and along her synapses and down through her nipples, her stomach, every bit of her.

 

And that was just the start of the afternoon.