Summer Daze
by SwaySlayer
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Joss owns ‘the girls’ but I can make them do things without the
hassle of censors. Who got the better deal?
Author’s Notes: This has not been checked, my favourite colour is orange and
my birthday is in August. Do with this information what you will *grin*.
Dedication: To summer, because I love it and it allows me to run around and
be myself. And to Kit. For the same reason.
Feedback: It’s going to be a long winter people. Give me something to warm
my heart.
Challenge:
Requirements:
1. A femme slash pairing
2. A moonlit walk
3. A mention of the moon and what stage it's in – new, half, full
4. Someone getting hot and sweaty, somehow, which leads to the shedding of clothes
5. The phrase "You're gonna put that where?"
Incorporate at least three of the following:
1. Ice cream
2. A squirt bottle
3. Herbal shampoo
4. An unconventional or unpopular type of music
5. A white tank top
6. A pair of short shorts
***Bonus points for using all six
Here we go……
“Am I dead yet?” Buffy shifted slightly on the couch, extracting a loud squeak as her sweat-encased leg dragged against the material. Faith, the back of her hand resting on her forehead, dug her heel into Buffy’s calf. “Ow!”
“What? You asked me if you were dead.”
“And you digging your heel into me helped how?”
“Dead people don’t yell. You yelled. You’re alive.”
“They teach you that in your Rationale Class?” Faith reached down beside the couch and retrieved a glass of water. She dipped her fingers in slowly, grimacing at the warm liquid before flicking a few drops at Buffy. The blonde was about to squeal, but on recognizing the lukewarm status of the attack, opted for sticking her tongue out at the grinning brunette.
“There will be no talk of classes. That topic is off-limits and if you insist on mentioning how fabulous I am…” Faith paused and Buffy watched as she ran her index finger over her lips. “…at least let me demonstrate my skills.” Buffy was in the scary place between lust and disbelief. Faith tended to have that effect on her, but she was intent on maintaining some modicum of composure.
“This is Hell.”
“Nah. This is just summer.”
“Summer with leather couches? I dare you to disagree with my statement again.” Faith’s mouth curved up into a soft grin and her pupils danced with a heat that rivaled the rays of sunlight pouring into the room. Her hand dropped to her side and she propped herself up against the armrest, allowing her eyes to wander over Buffy’s form.
“I disagree.” Faith cocked an eyebrow and waited for Buffy’s response, anticipating something similar to the time they’d made a hole in the wall. Nothing. The blonde just stared at her, evidently filled with desire, but lacking in the desire to move. Faith expelled a large amount of air and settled down into the couch once more. “Too lazy to move?”
“Give the Slayer a prize.”
“I want ice-cream.” Buffy pointed to the kitchen where a tub of melted double toffee stood pathetically on the counter.
“You want?” Faith nodded vehemently. “Good. Then you can take yourself over there and have it, because if you think I’m moving from this couch, you are sadly mistaken.” Faith mimed a wound to her chest.
“Oh the pain! The humiliation of it all! Wherefore doth your kinky side inhabit?” Buffy stared at her, her face a mask of incomprehension. “Don’t tell me: the sun’s sucked your brain cells too?” Buffy nodded. “I demand you talk to me! Stop answering me with actions!” Buffy grinned and before Faith could respond, the blonde Slayer was straddling her lap, their legs intertwined in a wonderful collaboration of skin and sweat.
“It’s never bothered you before my love.” Buffy’s green eyes flashed in a myriad of humour and desire, while Faith’s chocolate hues sparkled.
“Did you hear me complaining?” Buffy bent down and dipped her tongue into the hollow above Faith’s chest.
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Well colour me apologetic B.” Buffy smirked and slid her hands down the sides of Faith’s tank top, marveling at the muscles that rippled beneath the tight, white material. Faith drew in a sharp breath as Buffy’s nails dragged down to the hem and swallowed loudly, a deep blush adorning her face. Buffy revealed a toothy grin.
“I’m afraid the only colour I do is red.”
“I’ll take one of those please.”
“As you wish.” Buffy tugged on Faith’s shirt, giggling as the material insisted on remaining stuck to Faith’s skin. “I’m not getting much cooperation here.”
“That’s because you’re not trying hard enough.”
“Hey!” Buffy’s pout was evident from outer space. “I’m trying very hard! I’m just ensuring that your garments remain intact for the duration of my time with you. It’s not easy being a lustful Slayer you know. I could very easily start ripping, but instead, I choose to be Concerned Buffy and salvage your favourite item of clothing. I’m nice, aren’t I?” Faith shifted beneath her, making sure to bring their legs into contact again and eliciting a small moan from the blonde. Faith threaded fingers through Buffy’s tangled locks and looked at her meaningfully.
“That’s very sweet of you B, but I prefer Sometimes-Sexual-Deviant Buffy. She’s fun and you know what?” Faith pulled Buffy towards her roughly, sliding her tongue into her mouth and kissing her deeply until the blonde pulled away for breath.
“What?” It was barely a word. It was hardly in the word family.
“She doesn’t give a fuck about my shirt.” Lo and behold, Hurricane Buffy. The blonde Slayer was like an octopus on speed, her hands caressing whatever area of skin was nearest to her as she divested Faith of her shirt – which was eventually removed with a well-placed rip and tear. Faith watched with amusement as her garment found peace on the floor and her pleasure was soon multiplied as Buffy’s shirt joined hers on the floor. The blonde pulled Faith up and enveloped her in a tight hug, remaining in that position to feel the rise and fall of each other’s breath. Faith nestled into the crook of Buffy’s collarbone.
“Is it just me or is this really hot?” Buffy flicked her tongue out at Faith’s ear.
“You got that right. I’m burning up.” Faith pulled back and released a husky chuckle.
“Your voice dropped about seven octaves when you said that.”
“So?”
“So nothing. I quite enjoy being in the arms of Darth Vader.”
“And so you should. Now can we get back to the part where I take off the rest of your clothes and make down, deep and dirty love to you?” Faith laughed again and pointed to the ice-cream.
“Only if you get me some of that.” Buffy sighed and dredged out the performance of a lifetime as she lifted herself off the couch, trudged to the kitchen and retrieved the ice-cream. Halfway back, she stopped, tilted her head to the right and hauled ass back to the kitchen. Faith listened as the sounds of drawers being opened and utensils being shifted filtered into the room, and when they had ceased, Buffy’s voice rang out.
“Close your eyes!” Faith snorted and yelled in the direction of the kitchen.
“Fuck that! You’re going to drop ice cubes down my shirt!” A pause.
“Faith?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not wearing a shirt.” The brunette rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation.
“Details details. Just bring me my ice-cream and I won’t have to wander around the neighbourhood half-naked, pleading for someone to have their way with me.”
“You’ll get your ice-cream if you close your eyes and trust me. Is that workable?” Buffy’s voice became soft. “You do trust me, don’t you?” Faith’s reply was steeped in honesty.
“Of course.” Faith closed her eyes. “Ok. I’m ready. Do your worst.” She listened as Buffy approached, acutely aware of every scent that radiated off the blonde’s presence. “I can smell the ice-cream.”
“Ice-cream doesn’t smell!”
“You can only smell it if you’re a Slayer.”
“And pray tell, what am I?”
“The sneak who’s been using my Herbal shampoo again.” Buffy giggled as she resumed her earlier position, straddling Faith and bending down to place a soft kiss on her mouth.
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“I somehow doubt that. You know that stuff is harvested from plants grown in Nepal in the nethermost regions of…” Faith’s rant came to a dazzling halt as a drop of ice-cream landed on her chest. “Well hello.” Faith’s eyes fluttered open, followed by her jaw dropping as she surveyed the scene above her. “You’re using a *squirt* bottle?!” Buffy shrugged and squeezed out another drop that landed just above Faith’s navel.
“It’s more accurate this way. And for the record: 'Two points!'” Faith was about to protest when Buffy’s tongue made short work of the offending drops. “What was that?”
“I said you’re an evil woman and you should be shot.”
“Right.” Buffy elongated the word as she drew patterns on Faith’s chest, covering her breasts with the dessert and blatantly licking her lips. “Any last requests?” Faith trailed a hand between Buffy’s thighs.
“Just one.”
“And what’s that?”
“Don’t hate me.” Buffy’s puzzled expression shifted into one of surprise as Faith ripped off the miniscule pair of shorts that adorned her frame and threw them onto the floor. “Whoops?” Buffy threw back her head and Faith reveled in the sensations of her laughter before placing her arms behind her head. “You hungry?” Buffy raised an eyebrow.
“Starving.”
“Good. You get licking and give me the rest of that bottle.”
Early evening, and the Slayers awoke to find themselves sticking to the couch and each other. The remnants of the afternoon sun had only just disappeared and the room was filled with warmth, as well as the unmistakable sound of Country and Western music.
“What *is* that?” Faith stretched languidly and pulled a none-too-attractive face.
“I think that’s my butt sticking to the couch cushions.” Faith laughed and fumbled for the stereo remote.
“I meant the cat being strangled by some dude in a Stetson.” Buffy shrugged.
“I thought I left it on the techno station.”
“That’s not much better.” Buffy picked a piece of fluff off Faith’s shoulder.
“Know what happens when you play a Country and Western song backwards?” Faith knew very well what happened.
“What happens my love?”
“The guy gets his girl back, his dog back, his house back…” The blonde exploded with undiluted giggles and Faith watched with undisguised delight. “I love that joke.”
“I love that joke too.” Buffy punched Faith in the arm. “Ow! What was that for?”
“That was for patronizing me and not laughing at my joke.”
“I did laugh! I was cracking up inside.”
“That’s not good enough.” Buffy’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout. Faith mentally berated herself for being played so easily before enquiring as to how she could redeem herself. At the mention of the word ‘shower’, the brunette was already halfway up the stairs, Buffy biting at her heels while yelling: “Don’t use all the shampoo!” They collided at the bathroom door when Faith stopped suddenly to take off her watch, ending up in a giggling heap on the floor.
“Short people. You have no consideration for others.” Buffy’s eyes went wide.
“Tell me that wasn’t a short joke.”
“I would, but then I’d be lying.”
“I’m warning you for your own safety: take it back.” The shaking of Faith’s head elicited a mighty yell from Buffy and the two of them tickled and romped into the shower. “We’re such boys.”
“I know, but I’m still very glad that you have breasts.”
Night had fallen on the tumultuous town of Sunnydale, its citizens lethargic from the heat as they settled down in front of their televisions or established themselves on sun-beaten porches. History pointed to the stupidity of being outdoors during the night, but it appeared that the heat was even a deterrent for the forced of the underworld. It was thus that the inhabitants rejoiced in the act of freedom that allowed them to enjoy a sky with uncountable stars. Joining the innocents in appreciation, Buffy and Faith strolled through the cemeteries and surrounding areas, their arms linked in unmitigated solidarity as they performed their duties under a moonlit sky. A few vampires made the gross error of rising and if it hadn’t been for the rush of adrenaline that decorated the Slayers’ veneer, they would not have broken a sweat. Three hours later, they were ready to bid farewell to the night, until a voice rang out from behind a collection of shrubs.
“You’re gonna put that *where*?” Willow’s tone was a mixture of fear and disbelief. Faith allowed a small grin to flit over her face before joining Buffy in a quick jog to the suspicious scene. Peering beyond the foliage, Buffy and Faith discovered Willow and Tara in a heated debate. The redhead gesticulated wildly as she rambled on about the correct way of placing a blessed orb in the ground, pausing in her rant only to wave at the Slayers before continuing. Tara rolled her eyes and silently pleaded with either of the Slayers to end her torment. On accepting that she was the only person who could save herself, the blonde witch took a deep breath, placed her hand over Willow’s and in no uncertain terms, opened her lungs and yelled.
“WILLOW! IT’S A FRICKIN’ ORB! IT’S A FULL MOON SO JUST STICK THE FRICKIN’ THING INTO THE GROUND SO WE CAN GET THE HELL HOME!”
The Slayers doubled over in laughter as Willow thrust the spear into the ground and hurried after Tara who was striding out of the cemetery, mumbling something about the heat affecting people’s minds. Faith wiped at her eyes and placed a hand on the small of Buffy’s back.
“We’re definitely in another universe. There are no vamps, everyone in town is smiling at each other and Tara just gave Willow hell.” Buffy leaned into Faith and wrapped her arms around the taller girl’s waist.
“We’re not in another universe.”
“Then how do you explain all of this?” Buffy smiled and instinctively, Faith smiled back. Buffy took this opportunity to trace the dimples that appeared in Faith’s cheeks.
“Easy. It’s summer.”