fic repost: "Then Try Harder" Buffy/Faith/Tara
Fandom: Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Featured Characters: Buffy, Faith, Tara
Do they (want to) have sex (with each other)? Buffy/Tara, Faith --> Buffy, Buffy --> Faith (?)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Joss owns my soul.
Spoilers/Timeline: Sometime in S6 BtVS
Notes: For the fifth porn battle. Originally posted here
Summary: Darkness (shall turn to dawning).
Words: 743
Then Try Harder
One night:
Faith fingerfucks a girl she just met in the back of a darkening bar she's never seen before where half the girls are vampires and all the boys are monsters -- the ordinary kind -- and the girl has this trick of pouting when she wants to go further, wants Faith to cut out the cheesy romantic French kissing crap and get straight to the disrobing -- that reminds Faith of Buffy and makes her fuck the girl harder than she meant to, makes her move her fingers like they're weapons, pinching her clit and scratching a nail over the opening of her cunt before shoving in with two fingers, aiming as deep as she can at an angle that gets the girl's clit at the same time, and the girl fucking howls and Faith is sick of fucking her because she wants:
Buffy's mouth is rounded in surprise; she's all set to say "Sorry but I don't I mean I like you but I mean you're Willow's (or maybe I'm Spike's) but we belong not to each other and besides I don't like girls except I think I love you..." when Tara's mouth surprises hers with another kiss.
"What about...?" she manages to squeak out under Tara's lips, which are full and soft and, with little kissy hints, make Buffy open hers to let Tara tongue her, to let Tara's tongue be her tongue for a moment, soft and slick and heavy on top of hers, pretty and preying and almost seductive, darn Tara and her glittery eyes. Tara, without wearing any makeup (just a hint of lemony lipgloss that's too yummy when Buffy takes an experimental taste) can be sexier than Faith ever was when she tried:
Shoving Buffy back against a headstone and pivoting in one movement to kick the vamp in the crotch; he doubles over and Buffy gets the killing blow. Faith congratulates her with another shove, using her whole body this time, breasts pressed up against Buffy's chest and the knife in her hand too near Buffy's neck; she wants so bad just to nick her vein and let her bleed, let some other chick take care of her because that's not Faith's job, Faith's no one's girlfriend, she's just a dyke who likes the way girls feel when they tremble. Buffy's trembling. Begging, but Faith can't hear the words. Just knows -- kiss me please, take me please, harder please, Faith. Happy to oblige, madame. She cuts Buffy out of her confining top, leaving breasts free in their pink lacy bra to harden with the cold or with desire. Faith throws the knife away, she won't need it where she's going:
Tara's awkwardness falls away when she's with a woman; when Buffy pulls her shirt over her head with a pretty moan, Tara smiles and drops her knees, kisses Buffy's tummy and smiles up at her breasts; the smile is a question and Buffy's hands on her zipper are the answer. Tara's smile breaks into sunrise, and she kisses the lace of Buffy's thong, then kisses around the tiny pink string, then, just with the tip of her tongue, transforms kisses into licks, then into deeper licks then into sucking, through the sheerest cloth, at Buffy's clit, making Buffy tremble, aroused in jerky movements into half-coherent sounds of wanting:
Tara, wide and brimful with love, the opposite of violence, the opposite of fucking: lovemaking, honesty, a woman who left her life's love because she needed freer air, Tara, who moves her tongue with sure strokes deeper into Buffy's wetness, Tara is too bright to see, and Buffy's eyes close hard with a snap like orgasm, and she imagines hands, smaller than Tara's and quicker, twisting in her hair, a vacant smile gleaming with power and a dark, secret alley where she's never fucked before, and grinding against Faith's leg, hard and solid where Tara's mouth yields to her wetness, elicits a shriek:
"B!"
"You -- you came back." Then Buffy's silent, Tara still, smile transformed into a stoic grimace.
"Came for you. You knew I would."
"I'm busy now."
"I can see that. About time you got wise to the girls."
"I wouldn't turn gay for you."
"I know." Faith's smile twists into a cruel snarl, the kind that Buffy wants to kiss, the kind Buffy wants to bite, the kind that's begging to be bled. "I tried."
Featured Characters: Buffy, Faith, Tara
Do they (want to) have sex (with each other)? Buffy/Tara, Faith --> Buffy, Buffy --> Faith (?)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Joss owns my soul.
Spoilers/Timeline: Sometime in S6 BtVS
Notes: For the fifth porn battle. Originally posted here
Summary: Darkness (shall turn to dawning).
Words: 743
Then Try Harder
One night:
Faith fingerfucks a girl she just met in the back of a darkening bar she's never seen before where half the girls are vampires and all the boys are monsters -- the ordinary kind -- and the girl has this trick of pouting when she wants to go further, wants Faith to cut out the cheesy romantic French kissing crap and get straight to the disrobing -- that reminds Faith of Buffy and makes her fuck the girl harder than she meant to, makes her move her fingers like they're weapons, pinching her clit and scratching a nail over the opening of her cunt before shoving in with two fingers, aiming as deep as she can at an angle that gets the girl's clit at the same time, and the girl fucking howls and Faith is sick of fucking her because she wants:
Buffy's mouth is rounded in surprise; she's all set to say "Sorry but I don't I mean I like you but I mean you're Willow's (or maybe I'm Spike's) but we belong not to each other and besides I don't like girls except I think I love you..." when Tara's mouth surprises hers with another kiss.
"What about...?" she manages to squeak out under Tara's lips, which are full and soft and, with little kissy hints, make Buffy open hers to let Tara tongue her, to let Tara's tongue be her tongue for a moment, soft and slick and heavy on top of hers, pretty and preying and almost seductive, darn Tara and her glittery eyes. Tara, without wearing any makeup (just a hint of lemony lipgloss that's too yummy when Buffy takes an experimental taste) can be sexier than Faith ever was when she tried:
Shoving Buffy back against a headstone and pivoting in one movement to kick the vamp in the crotch; he doubles over and Buffy gets the killing blow. Faith congratulates her with another shove, using her whole body this time, breasts pressed up against Buffy's chest and the knife in her hand too near Buffy's neck; she wants so bad just to nick her vein and let her bleed, let some other chick take care of her because that's not Faith's job, Faith's no one's girlfriend, she's just a dyke who likes the way girls feel when they tremble. Buffy's trembling. Begging, but Faith can't hear the words. Just knows -- kiss me please, take me please, harder please, Faith. Happy to oblige, madame. She cuts Buffy out of her confining top, leaving breasts free in their pink lacy bra to harden with the cold or with desire. Faith throws the knife away, she won't need it where she's going:
Tara's awkwardness falls away when she's with a woman; when Buffy pulls her shirt over her head with a pretty moan, Tara smiles and drops her knees, kisses Buffy's tummy and smiles up at her breasts; the smile is a question and Buffy's hands on her zipper are the answer. Tara's smile breaks into sunrise, and she kisses the lace of Buffy's thong, then kisses around the tiny pink string, then, just with the tip of her tongue, transforms kisses into licks, then into deeper licks then into sucking, through the sheerest cloth, at Buffy's clit, making Buffy tremble, aroused in jerky movements into half-coherent sounds of wanting:
Tara, wide and brimful with love, the opposite of violence, the opposite of fucking: lovemaking, honesty, a woman who left her life's love because she needed freer air, Tara, who moves her tongue with sure strokes deeper into Buffy's wetness, Tara is too bright to see, and Buffy's eyes close hard with a snap like orgasm, and she imagines hands, smaller than Tara's and quicker, twisting in her hair, a vacant smile gleaming with power and a dark, secret alley where she's never fucked before, and grinding against Faith's leg, hard and solid where Tara's mouth yields to her wetness, elicits a shriek:
"B!"
"You -- you came back." Then Buffy's silent, Tara still, smile transformed into a stoic grimace.
"Came for you. You knew I would."
"I'm busy now."
"I can see that. About time you got wise to the girls."
"I wouldn't turn gay for you."
"I know." Faith's smile twists into a cruel snarl, the kind that Buffy wants to kiss, the kind Buffy wants to bite, the kind that's begging to be bled. "I tried."