StephenT (stormwreath) wrote,

(Fic) South of the Border

So my last fic Insert Tab A into Slot B was described by its readers as "adorable" and "the cutest thing ever". This next one is rather less adorable (arguably, anyway) and rather more smutty. It has a plot, though! Kinda. -Ish. It's a prequel to the fic I wrote last year, In The Night, which discussed one of the lesser-known problems of being Willow and telepathic when you're sharing a house with two single young women.

This new fic South of the Border is in the same continuity but set three years earlier, and deals with a similar problem: the logistics of being Buffy and the Slayer and suddenly acquiring a roommate in your late teens, when you've always been an only child with your own room...

Title: South of the Border
Setting: Early Season 4
Characters: Willow & Buffy (but not together!)
Rating: 18R (that would be NC-17 in American)
Wordcount: 2289
Warnings: ***masturbation, inadvertent voyeurism***

Special thanks to gillo  for the pertinent advice and assistance.

South of the Border

Buffy moved slower than usual as she made her painful way back up the stairs of her dorm. That demon she'd found skulking at the edge of campus had caught her a couple of nasty blows before she'd managed to hack off its limbs (all six of them) and finally its head. Even worse, now she was covered in sticky, stinky purple-coloured gore.

It had been an easy decision then, to cut short her patrol and return back to her room. She needed a shower, badly. Luckily there weren't many people around at this time of the evening to ask awkward questions, like "Are you all right?" or "Eww, what's that purple gunk?", let alone "Wait, is that a battleaxe you've got half-hidden in that bag over your shoulder?" Most were probably out seeing their friends, or at parties, or sitting in their rooms reading, or maybe even studying in the library or writing last-minute assignments.

Buffy kind of assumed Willow would be in the latter group. Her roommate had made a point of asking her where she was going and when she expected to be back, and on being told Buffy planned to patrol most of the night had smiled brightly and said, "Oh! I'll probably be asleep when you get back, then. Nightie-night in advance!" Buffy guessed she'd probably be in the library now; she often spent the evenings there.

But no; as Buffy approached the door of the room they shared and fumbled for her key, she heard a faint noise coming from inside. It was hard to make out, but something about it sounded wrong. Like a sob or a low cry of pain. Buffy's Slayer instincts tingled, and she paused, her hand halfway to the doorknob, and listened.

There! Definitely Willow's voice, and moaning, long and low like she was in agony. Buffy fumbled frantically with the lock, imagining any kind of horrible scenario. The demon she'd killed had a mate, maybe, which was taking revenge by torturing her friend... Willow moaned again, but this time it was muffled, like something was covering her mouth. Buffy burst open the door, her hand grasping for her battleaxe and swinging it free, ready to slay.

As the door crashed back on its hinges Buffy took in the scene in the room beyond... and froze in shock. Willow was there all right, on her bed. She was on her hands and knees, her face buried in her pillow, which explained why her voice had sounded muffled. But she was alone, completely alone....

And she was also completely naked.

Her skin shone pale, almost white in the artificial lighting, with a scattered dusting of freckles sprinkled over it. The position she was in meant that her bottom was pointing straight at the door, straight at Buffy; it was practically the only part of her friend she could see. That and her thighs, forming a triangle of bare flesh, a dark wet-slick patch of reddish-brown hair at their apex, and something... something bright purple.. was... was projecting from...

As Buffy realised what she was actually seeing she flushed hot pink as the heavy axe clanged on the floor. At about the same time - it had only been a second or so, though it felt like forever - Willow realised she had an audience. She squeaked in high-pitched panic and frantically tried to curl herself up into a tight little ball.

But Willow's sudden movement dislodged the purple toy, and it slipped out of her. She reached back her hand desperately to grab it, but instead fumbled and managed to knock it flying onto the floor. It rolled across the carpet and came to a rest almost at Buffy's feet, still buzzing angrily.

Buffy looked down at it, then over to Willow. Her mind trembled on the edge of hysterical laughter. She wondered if she should reach down and turn the vibrator off. Maybe hand it back to Willow with a polite "Hey, you dropped this"? She looked back down at it. It was so, so big and bright and noisy - and it was glistening wet...

Buffy panicked. The hero who could face monsters and vampires and the apocalypse unafraid turned her back and ran in terror, as Willow tried her best to burrow herself bodily through her mattress.

Well, Buffy almost ran in terror. She had enough presence of mind to halt, go back and open the door again just a crack - there was a renewed whimper from the direction of the bed, and Buffy hastily called out "I'm not looking!" before reaching her hand around and grabbing her washbag and towel from the hook. Then she closed the door and made her hasty escape for real.

She didn't stop until she reached the women's room on her floor, walked quickly past the line of toilet stalls and into the shower cubicle at the far end. She closed the door and leaned back against it, breathing heavily.

Oh God, that was so embarrassing. It was horrific. And it was probably even worse for Willow. She couldn't go back there. Buffy wondered how she and her roommate would ever be able to face each other again. Maybe they shouldn't. Maybe Buffy should run away to Mexico, change her identity, so she and Willow would never have to see each other or talk again with this hanging there between them, and...

No. Don't be ridiculous. Buffy told herself firmly to get a grip. She got out her wash things and began mechanically removing her clothes as she processed her racing thoughts. There's nothing wrong with what Willow was doing, nothing to be ashamed of, it's a perfectly normal activity...

That vibrator had looked so huge. How could it fit?

Buffy turned on the water, tested it with her hand until it was warm enough. It wasn't like this should have been a surprise. She already knew Willow masturbated, even that she owned a vibrator. They'd discussed it in a giggly, breathless best-friends way a year or more ago. "Do you do it?" "Yeah. Do you do it too?" That kind of thing. But abstract discussion was so, so different from seeing it in front of her in all its quivering, moaning moist reality.

She let the water run over her, sluicing away the demon blood. It was so unfair. Hey, what? Buffy was startled by her own thoughts, but realised it was true. She was jealous. Jealous that Willow, Willow the shy, quiet one, had had the courage to get brazenly naked in their shared room and get herself off while Buffy - Buffy never had. Buffy had been too embarrassed, felt too awkward, been too keenly conscious of the lack of privacy. The fact that someone might come in at any moment.... just as she herself had.

God, it was frustrating. Buffy squeezed shower gel into her hands and began rubbing it over her body, paying special attention to her breasts. It felt good, and her nipples caught on her hands and thrust against them as she caressed herself. She was always keyed up when she got back from patrol, always horny. Back at home she would sneak through the window into her room late at night, quickly undress, then jump on her bed and bring herself to a quick, intense orgasm, every time. Then often lie back and relax and do the same thing again, only more slowly, then drift off to sleep in a languid warm glow.

But now? Ever since she'd started college she'd been a quivering pool of frustrated sexual tension. She'd sometimes managed to sneak a quick frig right here, late at night in the shower where at least the door locked and there was privacy. Even so, she'd had to bite her lip to keep from making any noise, always worrying that someone might come into the bathroom and hear her. It was inhibiting.

Both hands clasped her bosom, squeezing and kneading as the gel lathered and foamed. Her breath came faster. She let go of her left boob and slid her soapy hand down over her belly and through her sparse, neatly trimmed pubic hair. She leaned back on the wall of the shower cubicle and braced one foot against the opposite wall.

Buffy wondered what Willow was doing now. Had she hastily got dressed, would she pretend nothing had happened? Had she decided she could never face Buffy again, and was halfway to Tijuana herself under an assumed name? Or had she retrieved the vibrator, wiped off the carpet fluff and put it straight back to use? Was she also masturbating right now?

Buffy worked two of her fingertips around in a steady circular motion, her clit feeling hard and tingly between them, her own wetness lost in the steadily-falling water of the shower. She shifted her position slightly to take a firmer stance on the slippery floor and pushed the index finger of her other hand inside herself. The sensation made her gasp and whimper, and she hastily clamped her mouth shut, hoping the noise of the shower would cover the sound of her own noises.

She squeezed down on the finger inside her, while her other hand continued its steady insistent motion. Then a second finger joined the first, and she began sliding them in and out, slowly at first then faster. Her jaw began to ache with the strain of keeping her mouth so firmly shut. Her nostrils flared. She suddenly thought of Willow's vibrator, so large and solid and rudely purple. She wondered what that would feel like, instead of her fingers, stretching her and filling her.

Buffy felt hot, even hotter than she should. The tableau was clear in her mind, just as she'd seen it in that frozen moment; Willow, her bed, her vibrator. Her pale thighs, her smooth, curved buttocks. It wasn't even like Buffy hadn't seen her friend undressed before; she had, but never in so obviously sexual a position. Never so exposed. Her treacherous mind started filling in all the little details she'd noticed without really comprehending in that brief glimpse.

Willow's labia had been stretched tight, curving about the round shaft of the vibrator, embracing it. Buffy had seen that. And the darker pink patch above it, the little starred circle in a hollow; that had been Willow's anus. Buffy shivered. Somehow the fact that she'd seen Willow's asshole seemed more intrusive, more an invasion of privacy than seeing her pussy or watching her masturbate. What was that all about?

She felt hot and cold and shivery and dirty, and her hand rubbed faster and she cried out, careless who might hear her, and the dark blackness of an orgasm reached up and dragged her down and claimed her. Her foot slipped on the wet tile, but instinctive, oblivious Slayer grace saved her and let her sink to the wet floor of the cubicle and lie there panting instead of cracking her head. The shower water sluiced around her and down the drain.

Long, long minutes later she dragged herself wincing to her feet. She finished what she needed to do in the shower then turned off the water. She really, really didn't want to go back and face Willow now, but she knew she had to. This was worse than going down into the Hellmouth to confront the Master... no. She told herself firmly to get a grip. No, it's not worse than that. Willow's your best friend, she's perfectly reasonable, you can talk about this like adults. Yes.

Maybe you can even come to an arrangement together, so you don't have to do this again. Buffy towelled herself off, then looked dubiously at her filthy clothes. Instead of getting dressed again, she wrapped the towel around her and knotted it over her breasts. Yes. If Willow's happy to masturbate in your shared room, she really can't object if you do too. We can make a deal...

No we can't. That would mean having to talk to her about all this, tell her... no. No we can't.

She left the cubicle and walked over to the sinks to brush her teeth. She felt a little underdressed, but she'd seen worse from her fellow-students, especially late at night or early in the morning. And nobody was likely to see her...

One of the toilet stall doors opened and Julie from three doors down the corridor walked out, still adjusting her clothing. Buffy froze, her toothbrush in her mouth, then made herself keep on brushing. Julie noticed her too, accidentally caught her eyes for an instant in the mirror - then she blushed and averted her gaze hastily. She couldn't meet Buffy's eyes. Instead she hurried quickly out of the restroom while Buffy turned red in mortification.

Julie had heard her masturbating in the shower. She knew...

Then Buffy realised something. There had been no sound of a flush, and Julie had been kind of out of breath and sweaty... and Buffy buried her head in her hands and laughed helplessly as she realised Julie hadn't been embarrassed because she'd heard Buffy. She'd been worried that Buffy had heard her doing it. Had she been put out when she realised the shower was already in use, forcing her to make do with a stall instead? Or had she gone in straight away and not even realised Buffy was there?

The whole thing was just too ridiculous. Buffy recovered herself and took a deep breath. Yes. She was definitely going to talk to Willow. There had to be a better way than this.

She just had to hope Willow would still be there, and not in Mexico...

Tags: buffy, fic
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